Theo not","inations. You brought us \n here to scare us. Insomnia, that \n was just a decoy issue. You're \n disgusting.\n\n NELL\n Is this true? I've been \n hypnotized?\n\n MARROW\n I hadn't done a study of how group \n fear affects individual \n performance. Mass hysteria is \n like a story, Nell. A communal \n ","works in a group...\n\n MALCOLM\n Not the way you've constructed \n your group, it's just not ethical!\n\n MARROW\n But if the group knows it's being \n studied as a group, you \n contaminate the results. The \n deception is minor.\n\n Malcolm sees Mary Lambretta.\n\n MALCOLM\n Are you working with her?\n\n MARROW\n Mary, I","Marrow is the cold, analytical tone, his \n garbled jargon.\n\n MARROW (OC)\n One minute!\n\n It's Marrow, for real, about to enter. Nell clicks off the \n recorder, drops it into the briefcase. Marrow is startled, not \n expecting Nell to be sitting right next to his papers and briefcase.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Nell.\n\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead","\n with the stipulation that it never \n be altered or sold. Crain's \n executors made good investments \n and for the last hundred and \n twenty years, Hill House has taken \n care of itself.\n\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\n\n TODD\n So what's this study all about \n anyway? Mary described","have to hear me. Let me \n explain what's happening to you.\n (beat)\n You're participating in a study on \n hysteria.\n\n Everyone but Marrow REACTS.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n I've given you a powerful \n suggestion that you're in a \n haunted house. I picked Hill \n House because it fits the \n expectations. It was my... it was \n my","about this.\n\n MARROW\n Hmm.\n\n NELL\n I'm sorry. I'm messing up the \n study.\n\n MARROW\n No you're not. Something moved \n you. You saw something.\n\n Nell looks to him. He's sincere. He believes her.\n\n NELL\n I don't know. Maybe I...\n\n \"Didn't\" she almost says. ","case.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Nell.\n\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead. Marrow looks from her to the\n briefcase and back.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Were you looking for me?\n\n Nell can't answer. Marrow comes over, unsettled.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n How are the tests going?\n\n Nell rises, staring, emotionless. Betrayal just"," Whatever else she's \n wearing, she wears glasses. Marrow, seeing her, motions for her to \n go away. He doesn't break eye contact with Malcolm. Mary \n hesitates...\n\n MARROW\n Malcolm, this is essential work \n I'm doing. Just think what my \n research can do for education. \n Elementary school classrooms near \n train tracks or airports, where \n loud noise is random; this helps","hostile man \n does not believe in Madame Velka.\n\n This relieves the pressure. Malcolm is not listening anymore and\n storms off.\n\n MARY\n You know what he's really upset \n about?\n\n MARROW\n What?\n\n MARY\n You're going to publish, he's \n going to perish... And why did you \n hire me for this?\n\n Marrow has a sly smile. They go","a.\n\n MALCOLM\n Are you working with her?\n\n MARROW\n Mary, I'll meet you outside.\n\n She understands, and she closes the door.\n\n MALCOLM\n Why are you working with her? \n Mary Lambretta was thrown out of \n the department for trying to get a \n Ph.D. in psychic studies.\n\n MARROW\n And after she was thrown out, she \n needed"," Dr. Marrow, what is this house?\n\n When she says this, we should be seeing her from an odd perspective,\n the house's POV.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n There was once a king who built a \n palace. The King's name was Hugh \n Crain. A hundred and thirty years \n ago, when the Merrimack Valley was \n the center of American industry, \n Hugh Crain made two hundred \n million"," on the stairs. Theo touches her. She starts.\n\n THEO\n Nell, it was an accident.\n\n INT. MARROW'S BEDROOM (PART OF CONFUSING ROOMS) - NIGHT\n\n Marrow, sitting at a desk, speaks into a digital voice recorder. \n His voice is cold, analytical.\n\n MARROW\n Icebreaker exercise conducted over \n dinner. Observed initial bonding \n among subjects and experimenter.","\n\n MARROW\n In a way.\n\n Marrow studies the page. We go into the whiteness of the page to:\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n\n Where we find Theo. The House is beautiful today, it's sunny, there\n are flowers outside, the mood has changed. Theo is now softened, \n she's found something better than what she had. She goes into the \n house.\n\n INT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n"," it again.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Look, look at what it does! The \n subjects on the left, because they \n anticipate the shocks, make the \n adjustment, and lose nothing on \n their scores. The subjects on the \n right, because the shocks are \n random, can't anticipate, and the \n distraction throws them off.\n\n MALCOLM\n Stop defending your science after \n"," to be in a location with a \n definite sense of history, and I \n wanted to make sure that it wasn't \n so pleasant you'd all sleep too \n easily. You'll be taking a \n variety of tests, none of them \n harmful, and you've got the house, \n the grounds, and each other to \n keep you company.\n\n THEO\n When do we take the tests?\n\n MARROW\n ","\n\n MARROW\n Nell, what do we do?\n\n NELL\n He played hide and seek with the \n children. That's how he built the \n house.\n\n Marrow stares at her, trembling. He glances around at the winding\n labyrinth of house. Impossible.\n\n MARROW\n We can't hide in here! We won't \n make it til morning.\n\n Nell looks at him","here with you.\n\n Silence. The others are embarrassed by her sincerity. She's right,\n Nell is not of their world.\n\n MARROW\n We're glad you're here.\n\n He says this with enough sympathy for Theo to see his interest in \n the girl in the thrift shop dress.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Why don't we move to another room?\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - NIGHT\n\n The H","the presence of something.\n\n TODD\n So what's this study all about \n anyway? Mary described the kind \n of tests we'll be doing, but \n didn't fill us in on the big \n picture. She said you needed bad \n sleepers, but this wasn't about \n curing the problem.\n\n MARY\n I can tell you what this is about.\n\n MARROW\n Eat first, questions later"],["> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts, looks at the house with a strange feeling.\n\n NELL\n That's so sad.\n\n This has been tense between them, a gunfight. POP! A LOG in the\n fireplace makes everyone jump. Theo relishes it, but Nell shudders.\n\n MARY\n I think there's more to the story. \n This house","The children Hugh \n Crain built the house for. The \n children he never had.\n\n LUKE\n Come on. These are the typically \n sentimental gestures of a depraved \n industrialist.\n\n He puts his hand on a CHAIR, the back of which is heavily carved in\n the motif he just described.\n\n Nell turns him an appalled look.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n Theo was working in the dining ","ene, and a house \n filled with children.\n\n NELL\n All the carvings.\n\n MARROW\n But there's a sad catch to the \n story.\n\n MARY\n What happened?\n\n MARROW\n There were no children. Rene \n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts"," Dr. Marrow, what is this house?\n\n When she says this, we should be seeing her from an odd perspective,\n the house's POV.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n There was once a king who built a \n palace. The King's name was Hugh \n Crain. A hundred and thirty years \n ago, when the Merrimack Valley was \n the center of American industry, \n Hugh Crain made two hundred \n million","is English Craftsman, \n this is Romanesque. This is... \n insane. Who lives here?\n\n MARROW\n Nobody. A local mill owner, Hugh \n Crain, built it in 1830. He had \n no heirs, but he put the house in \n trust, and the farmland around it, \n with the stipulation that it never \n be altered or sold. Crain's \n executors",". A figure stands and comes over. It's \n Luke, stretching.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n I've been thinking about these \n carvings. Kids. Lots of kids. \n Fat little angel kids. Wild kids. \n Kids with furry animals.\n\n NELL\n The children. The children Hugh \n Crain built the house for. The \n children he never had.\n\n LUKE","Crain \n had children chained to the looms \n in his mill. And listen to this: \n his beautiful Rene killed herself.\n\n THEO\n And why didn't Marrow tell <u>us</u>?\n Doesn't he trust women? That \n fuck.\n\n NELL\n (she's thinking \n about the story, \n not Marrow)\n A monster? But he built this for \n ","the Merrimack Valley was \n the center of American industry, \n Hugh Crain made two hundred \n million dollars. That's forty-\n three billion dollars in today's \n money. He could have anything he \n wanted. And what he wanted, was \n Rene, his banker's beautiful \n daughter. Rene, and a house \n filled with children.\n\n NELL\n All the carvings.\n\n ","\n with the stipulation that it never \n be altered or sold. Crain's \n executors made good investments \n and for the last hundred and \n twenty years, Hill House has taken \n care of itself.\n\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\n\n TODD\n So what's this study all about \n anyway? Mary described","crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \n that we can't see.\n\n MARY\n What's this?\n (has to get his\n attention)\n What's this... this picture?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where"," We can't hide in here! We won't \n make it til morning.\n\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\n\n NELL\n I know.\n\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \n and they all look down in fear toward the great","the \n house, and about Hugh Crain... but \n I'm asking you not to repeat it.\n\n LUKE\n I can keep a secret.\n\n They go in. The house is outlined by the sky and clouds and the \n moon.\n\n INT. MEZZANINE - NIGHT\n\n Luke catches up with Nell and Theo as he reaches the mezzanine. The\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\n behind.\n\n ","the mezzanine. The\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\n behind.\n\n LUKE\n He said that Hugh Crain... Hugh \n Crain was a monster. He said that \n he was a brutal, horrible man. He \n told me that Crain drove his \n workers to early deaths. Crain \n had children chained to the looms \n in his mill. And listen to this: \n "," looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\n\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\n\n NELL\n Finally.\n\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\n\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is",". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'","lullaby I guess. \n My mother used to hum it to me. \n And her mother before that, and so \n on.\n (to the statue)\n Hugh Crain, would you care to \n dance?\n\n She hums another two notes, and BANG! The door behind her SLAMS \n OPEN in a gust of wind, jolting Nell. She stops and stares. \n Outside the window, through the glass, she sees Mr. Dudley,"," Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\n\n NELL\n Hugh Crain. He's in the house. \n He's still here...\n\n Theo pulls back, goes very still. The first hint of fear in her \n eyes.\n\n THEO\n No.\n\n Marrow sees the panic working on her, gives her a stern look:\n\n MARROW\n Theo! You too. Listen to me.\n\n The command der","UDLEY\n The Purple Room. You're going to \n be the first visitors that Hill \n House has had since Mister Crain \n died.\n\n The room is spacious, in a rococo gothic style with low-relief\n woodwork on the walls rising to a dark, coffered, ceiling of carved\n ivory. A king-size bed, furniture, all in blue purple. An open \n door gives a glimpse of a bathroom.\n\n A large fireplace dominates","s face \n is the faintest, most inappropriate SMILE. It sends a chill through \n Nell.\n\n The album begins to slide down the shelf, and as it does, PAGES \n FLIP, Rene's SMILE grows wider, her hair dishevelled, her eyes lit \n with grinning insanity...\n\n Nell grabs the book just as it falls from the shelf.\n\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \n ","the house is carved, \n filigreed, painted or ornamented in wild, ornate fashion. It \n overwhelms the eye.\n\n NELL\n Wow...\n\n She turns around, sets her suitcase on the marble floor. A short\n hallway straight ahead seems to let onto some vast space, dimly \n lit.\n\n And then Nell hears a SOUND. Carrying through the empty halls from\n some distant place: a low, plaintive MOAN.\n\n Nell freezes"],["case.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Nell.\n\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead. Marrow looks from her to the\n briefcase and back.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Were you looking for me?\n\n Nell can't answer. Marrow comes over, unsettled.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n How are the tests going?\n\n Nell rises, staring, emotionless. Betrayal just"," Maybe you did it yourself.\n\n NELL\n Why?\n\n THEO\n I don't know. You've been alone \n for a long time, maybe you want \n attention.\n (pointing to \n Marrow)\n Maybe he did it...\n\n MARROW\n I didn't. You know that, Nell.\n\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \n so ugly if","Marrow is the cold, analytical tone, his \n garbled jargon.\n\n MARROW (OC)\n One minute!\n\n It's Marrow, for real, about to enter. Nell clicks off the \n recorder, drops it into the briefcase. Marrow is startled, not \n expecting Nell to be sitting right next to his papers and briefcase.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Nell.\n\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead","s locked. Her BREATH FOGS THE AIR. She doesn't notice \n it. But then she suddenly GAGS. With a look of horror she recoils \n from the door, choking, covering her face.\n\n Then Theo smells it. The women are both sick from the smell.\n\n THEO (cont'd)\n Oh my God, what is it? Oh, the \n smell... ohhh.\n\n Marrow comes into the hallway. He sees them from","\n\n THEO\n Nell, what happened?\n\n NELL\n Carolyn showed me where she hid \n him, hid him with all the ones he \n killed --\n\n MARROW\n Nell... please, Nell... take a \n deep breath...\n\n NELL\n And they're all locked together in \n here... and he won't let go of \n them!\n\n Marrow grabs her face.\n\n ","ified whimper. \n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \n obvious will make it real:\n\n MARROW\n Luke.\n\n BANG. The blood-splattered LION'S HEAD drops open. Luke's head \n falls out.\n\n Theo SCREAMS and SCREAMS again. Nell backs away with Marrow, almost\n has the presence of mind to drag them away, but --\n\n -- CLANG! The A","him and freedom. It won't break.\n\n MARROW\n They don't open!\n\n Marrow slips on the broken glass and catches hold of the lattice\n LACERATING his ring and little finger. With a cry of pain, he lands \n on the floor.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Oh Jesus my hand.\n\n Nell and Theo fall to the floor to help him. Marrow moans, and Nell\n grips his injured hand in hers","snaps shut again, taking Luke's\n head off his body.\n\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like a puppet \n with its strings cut.\n\n Nell, Marrow and Theo stand there. Not sure of what just happened,\n their minds unable to accept it.\n\n A sound comes up in Theo's throat. A sob. A horrified whimper. \n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \n obvious will make it","MARROW\n We're going down the stairs, Nell, \n I'm taking you down the stairs.\n\n He leads her go down the stairs.\n\n INT. THEO'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Marrow and Theo stand in the doorway to the shared bathroom watching\n Luke finish taping a trash bag over Nell's broken window. Nell lies \n in her bed, asleep or unconscious, it's impossible to say. Luke \n finishes, comes over. Marrow is hushed","that's where he burned \n them up, the child laborers from \n his mills! Because that's where \n their bones are! He killed\n <i>hundreds</i>. He took them here and\n he killed them. Their bones are \n in the fireplace!\n\n Nell sobs. The others exchange looks at this. It sounds so hollow, \n so delusional, it makes Marrow look so right.\n\n MARROW\n ","\n\n INT. NELL'S BATHROOM - NIGHT\n\n Marrow lunges into the bathroom, thrown from sleep as Luke stares in\n impotent shock. Theo is there behind Marrow an instant later.\n\n MARROW\n What is it?\n\n Luke can't make any words come out. Marrow shoves him aside, grabs \n the doorknob and thrashes at it.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Help me!\n\n He br"," Mrs. Dudley\n stares at the ragged duo.\n\n MRS. DUDLEY\n (her final verdict)\n City people.\n\n Mr. Dudley can barely get one side of the gate open with the car\n crushed in it. Theo and Marrow emerge, dazed, into the real world\n again.\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n You find out what you wanted to \n know, mister?\n\n Marrow stares at him, he"," Nell and Theo fall to the floor to help him. Marrow moans, and Nell\n grips his injured hand in hers. Fast, like she was born a trauma\n doctor, Nell clamps off the blood with her fingers.\n\n NELL\n Give me your shoelace.\n\n Marrow tugs at his shoe, in shock, and looks at Nell. She's calm.\n Terrifyingly calm. And in that moment, he realizes she's not out of\n her mind. ","the eyelid, but her eye is intact.\n\n NELL\n Here, cover it. Don't let her \n touch it.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY - NIGHT\n\n Marrow slams the door on the passenger side of Todd's car. Mary \n sits there, moaning, glass covering her eye, blood spilling out \n around the edges. Luke is on her side of the car.\n\n LUKE\n Keep your head back, that's"," sleep.\n\n MARROW\n Go ahead.\n\n Luke leaves the kitchen. Theo and Nell watch him go.\n\n THEO\n If this was some sort of joke, I'm \n going to kill him.\n\n NELL\n You know it wasn't a joke, Theo.\n\n Marrow watches the exchange closely.\n\n MARROW\n The cold sensation. Who felt it \n first?\n\n NELL\n The","\n the extent of her self-delusion \n was inconclusive due to her \n efforts to sexualize encounter \n with experimenter.\n\n Marrow's voice continues on in his assessment, but Nell isn't \n hearing anything anymore.\n\n She dies inside. Her world upside down. She falls into a chair, \n and all we can hear of Marrow is the cold, analytical tone, his \n garbled jargon.\n\n MARROW (OC)\n ","did find his Watts, a horrifying sight.\n\n MARROW\n Oh my God it's Watts.\n\n As at the same time out of the mouth from the sculpture erupts a \n river of blood, scaring the hell out of them. Their clothes \n splattered with blood, Marrow quickly leads them out of there.\n\n INT. LOCKED ROOM - NURSERY - NIGHT\n\n Nell stands there in the darkness, sensing the expanse of the room,\n turning...","Marrow's mouth opens. Luke stands\n speechless. They're stricken by the sight: Nell SCREAMING, held by \n the headboard as the deformed ceiling dips over her, the room \n THRUSTING at her rhythmically. Nell and Theo make EYE CONTACT.\n\n THEO\n Oh, Jesus.\n\n Marrow recovers, reaches out for Nell, and the FACE in the ceiling\n turns on him. The GAZE stops Marrow in his","her, and she lands sitting. Theo and \n Marrow get to her side fast.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n -- he didn't kill her she killed \n him and ran away with her baby --\n\n Marrow grabs her face. It's gray, her eyes glazing over.\n\n MARROW\n Get a blanket!\n\n THEO\n It's okay... we're all here...\n\n Luke races out. Theo, scared, looks"," there a moment. Then looks in.\n\n He squats and tries to open the ash-drop. It doesn't budge; it's\n jammed by the poker Nell dropped in.\n\n Marrow considers, then shakes his head, feels stupid for even coming\n in to check.\n\n Suddenly his CELL PHONE RINGS, startling him.\n\n MARROW\n Shit.\n (answering the\n phone)\n Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Marrow"],["\n\n Nell lies in her bed asleep, the room dark except for the last,\n guttering end of one of the candles. It goes out.\n\n A FAINT SOUND. LONG, LOW, like the inarticulate murmur of a dozen\n madmen. Nell stirs. Her eyes open. She hears the sound.\n\n The wall on the opposite side of the room catches the pale gloom \n from the window. The twisting figures in the plaster, the low-\n relief"," At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\n\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \n if the House itself is breathing.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still ","\n and Nell heard him. She thought \n it was ghosts. Let's go look for \n him again.\n\n MARROW\n No. If he's lost somewhere in the \n house... he'll have to stay lost \n until tomorrow, until the night is \n over. What we have to do now is \n be together, with Nell.\n\n And they go. Three scared people.\n\n INT. NELL'S BATH","\n she does --\n\n -- something MOVES in the fireplace. So fleeting Nell can barely \n see it, and we only catch a frame of it. But the iron MESH CURTAIN \n hanging in front of the hearth is STILL SWAYING.\n\n Nell stands there FROZEN. The massive fireplace LOOMS before her, \n like a monstrous mouth, black as pitch beyond the black metal \n curtains.\n\n The swaying metal scrapes over brick floor.","the house is carved, \n filigreed, painted or ornamented in wild, ornate fashion. It \n overwhelms the eye.\n\n NELL\n Wow...\n\n She turns around, sets her suitcase on the marble floor. A short\n hallway straight ahead seems to let onto some vast space, dimly \n lit.\n\n And then Nell hears a SOUND. Carrying through the empty halls from\n some distant place: a low, plaintive MOAN.\n\n Nell freezes","but Nell shudders.\n\n MARY\n I think there's more to the story. \n This house has its own music, \n Doctor Marrow, I can play it for \n you, I can hear it.\n\n Mary plays, channeling unholy music from the house, from the walls,\n from the curtain, from the air. Her fingers fly down the harp to \n the THICKEST WIRE and --\n\n -- TANG! Like a steel whip the","s seeing.\n Over the sound of the wind outside, there's something at the very\n highest edge of hearing.\n\n She stops five feet from the mantle. The swaying light catches the\n rich tones of wood. Then darkens. Illuminates it again. Darkens. \n The carvings of the playing CHILDREN in the wood SEEM TO MOVE.\n\n Nell stares in drunken fascination. And as the first fear begins to\n rise in her throat, the wind dies down and in","tries to see what else is in here \n in the dark, she begins to make out WHITE SHROUDED SHAPES.\n\n Against the wall. A bed covered in a sheet. A table beside it. A \n HAND BELL. A CANE.\n\n <u>Just like Nell's sick room at home</u>. Nell realizes it, covers her\n mouth.\n\n The furniture is in EXACTLY the same position, though the sheets\n covering the pieces are stained, FAR OLD"," Nell stares in drunken fascination. And as the first fear begins to\n rise in her throat, the wind dies down and in its place there is the\n FAINTEST TRACE OF CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER. Nell's reaction changes... \n to awe.\n\n Tentative, her hand goes out, shaking... and touches the mantle.\n\n It is hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \n FACES engraved in the wood all seem","She passes door after door, shadow after shadow, and as she nears \n the end of the hall... there is no door here. Not within 20 feet \n of, where we thought we just saw it.\n\n A WHISPER. VOICES. Nell backs away. And then LAUGHTER. Behind \n her. It's coming from another stairwell. Very real... and very \n human.\n\n INT. BACK STAIRWAY - DAY\n\n Nell looks down from the",", eight or nine feet, featureless, black, but in the\n proportions of an enormous man with his head bowed, shoulders \n stooped. And just like that, all it is...\n\n ...is a well of darkness and night once again. We don't even know \n for sure what we just saw. But it is still there in that bar of \n shadow.\n\n Nell goes rigid, not breathing, not seeing anything but the awful\n presence. She is spellbound.\n\n BANG. A door","His eyes are closed, unaware\n his breath is fogging too.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Nell lies there afraid to move, afraid to make the faintest sound.\n From the darkness above WOOD CREAKS. At first it seems like someone \n is walking on the floor above. But it is coming from within the \n room.\n\n The CARVINGS on the ceiling, the impossibly elaborate woodwork, ARE\n MOVING. Incredibly slowly, with","SECOND, A SHADOW IN THE CHAIR. Nell steps in front \n of it, blocking our view.\n\n And when she steps past, there is only the dim, flaking image of the\n chair, the natural shadow of the room.\n\n Nell goes around the desk, stands over it. The chair sits silent\n behind her, shrouded.\n\n On the desk sits a set of ledgers marked with mill names -- Lowell,\n Haverhill, Manchester -- and years: 1884, '8"," Bump. Bump. \n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still \n asleep, body moving by reflex.\n\n NELL\n Coming, Mother!\n\n WHUMP. The noise jars her consciousness, lighting up her mind, VERY\n REAL. Nell remembers where she is.\n\n Bump bang. It's coming from somewhere far off in the House. Nell\n listens in cold dread.\n\n ","\n Nell makes her way past clusters of furniture, stops at the center.\n Silence. An ENORMOUS FIREPLACE dominates one wall. Large enough \n to stand in. An iron mesh SCREEN hangs in its mouth. Mantle and \n chimney rise in dark, baroque masonry, becoming lost in the shadows \n above.\n\n The MOANING sound. Nell spins away from the fireplace. The sound \n rises from the door at the very back of the","slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\n\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \n outside, distorted in the old glass.\n\n MARROW\n Someone is playing with you.\n\n NELL\n Why?\n\n MARROW\n I don't know.\n\n NELL\n It doesn't matter. Even if ","ANING sound. Nell spins away from the fireplace. The sound \n rises from the door at the very back of the hall. Nell takes a \n step toward it.\n\n NELL\n Mrs. Dudley?\n\n She moves up to the door, puts a hand out to it. The MOANING \n rises. Nell pushes through --\n\n INT. 1ST FLOOR HALLWAY TOWARDS KITCHEN - DAY (CONTINUOUS)\n\n","--\n\n -- Nell is just vanishing around the corner, her rapid footsteps\n echoing in the vaulted room.\n\n EXT. REAR LAWN - DAY\n\n Nell hurries away from the House, across the rear lawn, ashamed at\n herself as much as she is spooked.\n\n In the distance Mr. Dudley is walking toward the House with cans of\n paint cleaner an a ladder. Nell stops, watching him. He senses \n her, pauses, and smiles.\n\n ","You know that, Nell.\n\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \n so ugly if it were true.\n\n NELL\n I don't know anything. Whoever \n did this, please, just... just say \n so... just... please... this is \n cruel. Don't be cruel to me. I \n can't stand it. You don't know \n me.\n\n And she runs out.\n",", but seeming poised to reach out, \n trip someone, grab a sleeve.\n\n It is a nightmare House. Doing what it was made for.\n\n The BUMPING they've left behind seems to vanish up and into the\n ceiling. It gives chase, on the floor above. Nell keeps looking \n back, and every time she does the BUMPING seems to get more firm, \n MORE LIKE A FOOTSTEP. Calm, Nell urges them on.\n\n NELL\n"],["\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is in Nell's lap.\n Nell sits on the bed in her sleeping tee-shirt and undies. Theo \n looks at the book with her.\n\n THEO\n That's so sad.\n\n NELL\n There's hundreds of them. This \n must be a record of the children \n who died at the mills, like Luke","ene, and a house \n filled with children.\n\n NELL\n All the carvings.\n\n MARROW\n But there's a sad catch to the \n story.\n\n MARY\n What happened?\n\n MARROW\n There were no children. Rene \n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts","bed, furniture, all in blue purple. An open \n door gives a glimpse of a bathroom.\n\n A large fireplace dominates one wall. Its mantle is carved with \n the faces of children, happy, at play, alive. Nell touches the \n wood, loving.\n\n NELL\n They're so beautiful. Aren't \n they?\n\n MRS. DUDLEY\n I've seen 'em. Lot to dust.\n\n NELL\n"," Nell stares in drunken fascination. And as the first fear begins to\n rise in her throat, the wind dies down and in its place there is the\n FAINTEST TRACE OF CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER. Nell's reaction changes... \n to awe.\n\n Tentative, her hand goes out, shaking... and touches the mantle.\n\n It is hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \n FACES engraved in the wood all seem","\n Marrow, Theo and Luke, stricken silent by her entry. Looks of shock \n on their faces. Nell just stands there. A beat. And then it pours \n out of her, hysterical.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n He hunted all those children in \n here. The dead children, Josiah \n and Elizabeth and all of them... \n from the books... he took them up \n here... he played games... the \n ","you think I did that. I \n didn't! Go to the great hall and \n look in the fireplace!\n\n She starts to laugh. Marrow gently presses Nell down, tucking the\n blanket around her.\n\n MARROW\n Why would we want to do that, \n Nell?\n\n NELL\n Because that's where he burned \n them up, the child laborers from \n his mills! Because that's where"," NELL\n After Rene... after she killed \n herself... he turned into a \n monster. He did fill the house \n with children... he did, but... \n they weren't laughing...\n\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \n a padded bench on one side of the room.\n\n THEO\n Nell, what happened?\n\n NELL\n Carolyn showed me where she hid "," died... How did you die?\n\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\n\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \n see the book.\n\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\n\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is","\n day. There's the same symbol on the graves of the children, a \n cherub of death. We've seen this image before. Nell backs out of \n the cemetery, afraid.\n\n INT. MEZZANINE - DAY\n\n Nell hurries down the mezzanine to the doorway which leads to the \n Red Parlor.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n She stands there a beat staring in at the volumes upon volumes of\n books. Nell","tries to see what else is in here \n in the dark, she begins to make out WHITE SHROUDED SHAPES.\n\n Against the wall. A bed covered in a sheet. A table beside it. A \n HAND BELL. A CANE.\n\n <u>Just like Nell's sick room at home</u>. Nell realizes it, covers her\n mouth.\n\n The furniture is in EXACTLY the same position, though the sheets\n covering the pieces are stained, FAR OLD","that's where he burned \n them up, the child laborers from \n his mills! Because that's where \n their bones are! He killed\n <i>hundreds</i>. He took them here and\n he killed them. Their bones are \n in the fireplace!\n\n Nell sobs. The others exchange looks at this. It sounds so hollow, \n so delusional, it makes Marrow look so right.\n\n MARROW\n ","\n and Nell heard him. She thought \n it was ghosts. Let's go look for \n him again.\n\n MARROW\n No. If he's lost somewhere in the \n house... he'll have to stay lost \n until tomorrow, until the night is \n over. What we have to do now is \n be together, with Nell.\n\n And they go. Three scared people.\n\n INT. NELL'S BATH","1, 1880. And its graven commandment, so familiar, so\n comforting, now rings with terrible, malevolent promise:\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n Suffer the little children unto \n me.\n\n There are three more grave stones, and after clearing away the \n brush, they too show that the babies died after a few hours, or a \n day. There's the same symbol on the graves of the children, a \n cherub of death. We'",", bare feet flying, covering her face\n from MIRRORS left and right. She stumbles into --\n\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)\n\n -- the greenhouse where she slips on the marble. She kicks the door\n shut behind her and lunges for the spiral staircase, her horror\n driving her up and up, setting the rickety thing swinging. We HEAR\n what Nell hears, the voices of children.\n\n VOICES OF CHILDRE"," At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\n\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \n if the House itself is breathing.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still ",". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'","LEY\n House is full of stories. If you \n know how to read these things, \n it's an open book. Just a \n different library than the kind \n you're used to.\n\n NELL\n Why?\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n Why'd she kill herself?\n\n NELL\n Yes.\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n (what other reason \n is there?)\n She","\n\n Nell lies in her bed asleep, the room dark except for the last,\n guttering end of one of the candles. It goes out.\n\n A FAINT SOUND. LONG, LOW, like the inarticulate murmur of a dozen\n madmen. Nell stirs. Her eyes open. She hears the sound.\n\n The wall on the opposite side of the room catches the pale gloom \n from the window. The twisting figures in the plaster, the low-\n relief","ANING sound. Nell spins away from the fireplace. The sound \n rises from the door at the very back of the hall. Nell takes a \n step toward it.\n\n NELL\n Mrs. Dudley?\n\n She moves up to the door, puts a hand out to it. The MOANING \n rises. Nell pushes through --\n\n INT. 1ST FLOOR HALLWAY TOWARDS KITCHEN - DAY (CONTINUOUS)\n\n","\n column, more crosses. And more. Her eyes flick back and forth. \n The crosses are paired with entries for CHILD. She looks their \n names...\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n Erin, Peter and Sean and Emily and \n Elizabeth... who are you? And \n you? What happened to you? You \n died... How did you die?\n\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores"],["In the night...\n\n The DOOR BAMS SHUT with a concussion that rocks the entire room,\n sweeping Luke's jacket under it. The HANDLES TURN, LOCK DOWN.\n\n Stunned. All stunned.\n\n A RUSH OF AIR. The House EXHALES. Silence. And then CREEEEAK. \n They cast their eyes back up the stairs.\n\n BUMP BUMP. Far-off sounds, hair-raising, of infinite variety, carry\n down"," At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\n\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \n if the House itself is breathing.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still "," We can't hide in here! We won't \n make it til morning.\n\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\n\n NELL\n I know.\n\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \n and they all look down in fear toward the great","hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \n FACES engraved in the wood all seem to be peering up at her, hands\n outstretched for her, hopeful.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATES - NIGHT\n\n The enormous LOCKED gates are silhouetted against the moonlit sky. \n The chain is dangling in the wind.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the","a door on the right, and then stops dead. Staring.\n\n The shut, dark, door, the one that scared Nell and Theo earlier,\n awaits them at the end. Ominous.\n\n Nell approaches. Closer and closer. The door nears.\n\n Nell wraps her arms tightly about herself and try's to open the \n door. It's locked. Her BREATH FOGS THE AIR. She doesn't notice \n it. But then she suddenly GAG",", eight or nine feet, featureless, black, but in the\n proportions of an enormous man with his head bowed, shoulders \n stooped. And just like that, all it is...\n\n ...is a well of darkness and night once again. We don't even know \n for sure what we just saw. But it is still there in that bar of \n shadow.\n\n Nell goes rigid, not breathing, not seeing anything but the awful\n presence. She is spellbound.\n\n BANG. A door","halfway across the room, looking back to make sure they're \n with him --\n\n -- and Nell digs her heels in, jerking Marrow and Theo to a stop. \n She stares. The others follow her gaze.\n\n She's looking down the connecting hall, out to the entry at the \n front doors. They're open.\n\n NELL\n In the night...\n\n The DOOR BAMS SHUT with a concussion that rocks the entire room,\n sweeping Luke'","\n ever darker. The House's hellish carvings glare as she passes, \n grinning, taunting. She rages on, oblivious until she rounds a \n final corner --\n\n INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE LOCKED ROOM - NIGHT\n\n -- into the long, dark hall leading to the LOCKED ROOM. The \n STATUARY peer down on her. Dead faces. Blind marble eyes. As she \n turns, the heads and eyes turn imperceptibly","door to lock it, too close \n to run.\n\n The doorknob TURNS, but just as the door starts to open NELL FLAILS\n FORWARD AND SHOOTS THE DEADBOLT HOME.\n\n The door jams against it. Nell jumps back. Theo grabs her back \n into --\n\n INT. THEO'S ROOM - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)\n\n -- her bedroom and slams the door. A long, deadly silent moment.\n","His eyes are closed, unaware\n his breath is fogging too.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Nell lies there afraid to move, afraid to make the faintest sound.\n From the darkness above WOOD CREAKS. At first it seems like someone \n is walking on the floor above. But it is coming from within the \n room.\n\n The CARVINGS on the ceiling, the impossibly elaborate woodwork, ARE\n MOVING. Incredibly slowly, with","d)\n No, no, you leave them alone!\n\n And the griffin turns back into brass. Marrow and Theo unaware of \n what happened behind them. They have to get out of there.\n\n INT. SECOND FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT\n\n Nell leads Marrow and Theo down the dark hallway, the twisted \n woodwork along the walls frozen, but seeming poised to reach out, \n trip someone, grab a sleeve.\n\n It is a nightmare House. Doing",". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'","on \n the balusters are all turned UP THE STAIRWAY, eyes starting in fear.\n Waiting for something to walk down out of that blackness.\n\n INT. HALL OUTSIDE LOCKED ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Eyes. Eyes of all the mythological figures. STARING down the long,\n black hallway. Awaiting something. Afraid.\n\n At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.","slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\n\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \n outside, distorted in the old glass.\n\n MARROW\n Someone is playing with you.\n\n NELL\n Why?\n\n MARROW\n I don't know.\n\n NELL\n It doesn't matter. Even if ","of\n immense stone pillars. Between them, a steel GATE as high as the \n wall, chained and padlocked.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATE - DAY\n\n The gate stands immense. Silent. Forbidding. Beyond them a \n gravel drive curves away through the trees. Nell kills her car, \n gets out, instructions in hand. No one in sight. A long beat. \n She reaches in and blows the HORN.\n\n The HORN","HALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\n\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\n\n EXT. GATE - DA","entry as Luke puts his \n jacket over Nell's shoulders. Marrow stops, looks back up the \n stairs.\n\n MARROW\n Wait a second! Wait!\n\n All there is are the sounds of Nell, Luke and Theo making for the \n hall to the entry. The House is silent.\n\n LUKE\n No.\n\n Luke goes out. But Nell pauses, stopping Theo with her.\n\n The House is quiet. Marrow's hand still","collapsing, twisting in a\n deafening hail of steel and glass.\n\n The massive gate has BENT itself AROUND the car, holding it in its\n steel-grip.\n\n EXT. GATE - NIGHT\n\n Nell understands, the house will not let her go. She turns away \n from the gate, faces the House, mesmerized by the beauty in this\n monstrosity. The House is calling her back, and Nell is drawn \n towards it. She starts walking...\n","Nell walks through the row of dark statues. Carved faces watch her\n pass.\n\n INT. HALL OUTSIDE LOCKED ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Nell stands before the threshold of the horrific doors, once locked,\n now inexplicably OPEN. The mythological frieze on the door split in\n half, a world cut in two, a seal broken. Like something has come \n out of its tomb.\n\n Nell steps into the blackness.\n\n INT. THEO'S ROOM","s locked. Her BREATH FOGS THE AIR. She doesn't notice \n it. But then she suddenly GAGS. With a look of horror she recoils \n from the door, choking, covering her face.\n\n Then Theo smells it. The women are both sick from the smell.\n\n THEO (cont'd)\n Oh my God, what is it? Oh, the \n smell... ohhh.\n\n Marrow comes into the hallway. He sees them from"],["snaps shut again, taking Luke's\n head off his body.\n\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like a puppet \n with its strings cut.\n\n Nell, Marrow and Theo stand there. Not sure of what just happened,\n their minds unable to accept it.\n\n A sound comes up in Theo's throat. A sob. A horrified whimper. \n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \n obvious will make it","ified whimper. \n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \n obvious will make it real:\n\n MARROW\n Luke.\n\n BANG. The blood-splattered LION'S HEAD drops open. Luke's head \n falls out.\n\n Theo SCREAMS and SCREAMS again. Nell backs away with Marrow, almost\n has the presence of mind to drag them away, but --\n\n -- CLANG! The A"," Crain)\n No! No! Let them go!\n\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to prevent it. Luke\n stands up, has time to give her a look.\n\n And then the LION'S HEAD FLUE drops open behind him. Luke looks \n back into its iron eyes --\n\n -- and with SHOCKING SPEED the FLUE snaps shut again, taking Luke's\n head off his body.\n\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like","of the room. They stare at him, appalled, afraid. Knowing \n he has done something wrong.\n\n Luke stops. Maybe fifteen feet away. He sees their expressions.\n\n LUKE\n What?\n\n Nell looks over at the burning tapestries. Heat sears the stone,\n blackens the carved figures in the woodwork.\n\n The ruddy light casts deep shadows throughout the room.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n We'll get out after this","of cloth fall to the floor and go out, there is \n utter silence.\n\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\n\n Luke looks at them helplessly. An awful, impending beat. Without\n warning, the huge PERSIAN CARPET he's standing on JERKS out from \n under him. Luke falls on his stomach.\n\n Stunned, Luke looks straight into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth","getting any closer than ten feet, and he's \n looking back at the gas tank.\n\n Luke gets the seatbelt off, tries to open the door but it's warped\n shut. He struggles to get out from behind the wheel. Sparks jump \n from the battery. Gas shoots out of the fuel pump onto the \n shattered window. He knows he's in trouble.\n\n THEO\n Hurry. The gas! Luke... The gas!\n\n Finally Luke gets free of the wheel","crawls out onto the trunk.\n\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\n\n Marrow hurries around the back of the car, staying clear of the lake\n of gas spreading about it. Luke rolls off. Marrow helps him up, \n and gets him away a safe distance.\n\n LUKE\n I'm okay. Okay. Just my chest. \n Just my wind knocked out.\n\n Marrow looks up at the gate. It is even more impassible than before\n with the","\n\n INT. NELL'S BATHROOM - NIGHT\n\n Marrow lunges into the bathroom, thrown from sleep as Luke stares in\n impotent shock. Theo is there behind Marrow an instant later.\n\n MARROW\n What is it?\n\n Luke can't make any words come out. Marrow shoves him aside, grabs \n the doorknob and thrashes at it.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Help me!\n\n He br","her, and she lands sitting. Theo and \n Marrow get to her side fast.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n -- he didn't kill her she killed \n him and ran away with her baby --\n\n Marrow grabs her face. It's gray, her eyes glazing over.\n\n MARROW\n Get a blanket!\n\n THEO\n It's okay... we're all here...\n\n Luke races out. Theo, scared, looks","\n Marrow, Theo and Luke, stricken silent by her entry. Looks of shock \n on their faces. Nell just stands there. A beat. And then it pours \n out of her, hysterical.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n He hunted all those children in \n here. The dead children, Josiah \n and Elizabeth and all of them... \n from the books... he took them up \n here... he played games... the \n ",", he LIGHTS a towering TAPESTRY on fire.\n\n He races from one to the next, lighting them. Theo and Nell help\n Marrow up, back away as Luke shoots by.\n\n All the tapestries are ON FIRE, blazing up like torches.\n\n At last, his rage spent, heaving, he moves to join the others at the\n center of the room. They stare at him, appalled, afraid. Knowing \n he has done something wrong.\n\n Luke stops"," Behind them. \n At the door to the hall.\n\n LUKE (OC)\n Hey! I heard screaming...\n\n THEO\n Luke.\n\n She grabs for the door and lets Luke in.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Nell's room stands silent, dark. The door to the bathroom is shut. \n The lock slides open. The door swings in. Luke stands there, the \n two women behind him.\n\n Luke","runs over \n to help him and shoves the tire iron between the doors and PRIES. \n Marrow throws the useless thing down and stands back.\n\n Luke joins him, and they shoulder block it together. But this door \n is MASSIVE. There's no way.\n\n LUKE\n No you bastard! Break!\n\n He roundhouse kicks it, hurts himself.\n\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \n hand on her","dy light casts deep shadows throughout the room.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n We'll get out after this wing \n burns down. Let's go.\n\n But there's no need. The tapestries are consuming themselves too \n fast to ignite the walls or ceiling. They all realize it. As the \n last flaming scraps of cloth fall to the floor and go out, there is \n utter silence.\n\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\n","\n The lock slides open. The door swings in. Luke stands there, the \n two women behind him.\n\n Luke turns on the lights. The room is perfectly ordinary, no sign \n that anything has been in here. The door to the hall is shut. Nell \n reacts.\n\n INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT\n\n Nell and Theo, wrapped in blankets, sit over mugs of tea at the\n kitchen table. Marrow, across from them, clicks off his digital\n ","kitchen. Big windows all along the \n wall. Huge windows. Marrow follows him in, Luke's fear turning \n into a vicious smile as he sees the towering windows.\n\n Nell and Theo are right behind in time to see Luke and Marrow \n scooping up a table and chair respectively.\n\n LUKE\n Watch out!\n\n The men rush the same window, side-by-side, and let the heavy pieces\n of furniture fly from ten feet.\n\n The WINDOW"," Luke glances over. Theo lies \n on her bed. Marrow is slouched in a chair.\n\n Luke settles back against the wall.\n\n The HOUSE EXHALES, and the breath of the house is like the poppy \n field in the Wizard of OZ; it brings on sleep.\n\n INT. THEO'S ROOM - MUCH LATER THAT NIGHT\n\n Marrow is struggling to stay awake and his eyes finally close. Theo\n breathes hard in the grips of some","\n\n Luke grimaces, shifts into low, pours on the gas.\n\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\n\n The car fishes back and forth against the gate, hurling a shower of\n gravel on the other cars off to the side of the road. Marrow, Nell \n and Theo move back.\n\n One of the Buick's headlights breaks. The grill mashes in. For a \n long moment the car struggles against the Gate. No good. Luke \n eases"," lasts a few heartbeats.\n\n He looks away. A flicker of distress crosses Nell's face. And then \n she realizes Marrow is looking at --\n\n -- Luke.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n You have to see something.\n\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - DAY\n\n Luke, Nell and Marrow mount the stairs, climb up and up. They find\n Theo in the mezzanine staring at the wall at the painting. ","\n\n THEO\n Hurry. The gas! Luke... The gas!\n\n Finally Luke gets free of the wheel. It's agonizing to watch... \n The passenger door is jammed shut too.\n\n He squirms into the back seat. The rear doors are in the same\n condition as the front. But the rear window is blown out. He \n crawls out onto the trunk.\n\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\n\n Marrow hurries around the back of the"],["into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth and sends \n Luke flying through the chain curtains.\n\n The others are speechless. They can do nothing but watch as Luke \n lays there on the ashdrop. A long moment.\n\n NELL\n (to the house, to\n Crain)\n No! No! Let them go!\n\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to"," We can't hide in here! We won't \n make it til morning.\n\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\n\n NELL\n I know.\n\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \n and they all look down in fear toward the great"," looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\n\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\n\n NELL\n Finally.\n\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\n\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is","faces as shattered bits of bone, loose\n teeth pelt them. Nell is immune.\n\n They run up the Grand Staircase toward the top and finally it can't\n reach them anymore.\n\n INT. MEZZANINE - NIGHT\n\n They look out at the full scope of Crain's horror.\n\n THEO\n Oh God, we can't get out!\n\n MARROW\n Nell, what do we do?\n\n NELL\n He played hide and seek","it, hurts himself.\n\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \n hand on her shoulder.\n\n NELL\n It's not safe for you anymore. \n The children need me, and Crain is \n doing everything he can to keep me \n from them.\n\n Theo stares, appalled. Marrow looks around, puts his hand up to \n shush everyone. The HOUSE MOANS, the BUMPING growing, searching.","around \n us. Don't get in the way, please.\n\n Nell cinches the shoelace tight around his wrist.\n\n Luke throws down the chair, giving up on the window.\n\n LUKE\n Shit! All right, you \n sonofabitch...\n\n As he looks up at another one of Crain's painting hanging on the \n wall. Nell Theo with Marrow straggle toward the great hall.\n\n INT. VESTIBULE TO","they come out of Crain's study Theo stops at the top of the \n stairs, Nell behind her.\n\n THEO\n Jeez.\n\n NELL\n I know.\n\n They stare out at Hugh Crain, the cracking and shadowing of the \n swirls of oil that compose his face. The figure is daunting, but \n dead. Just a painting. Four different hallways lead into the \n mezzanine, all dark and endless in the stray light","\n The SHAPE hovers there, silent. Air and shadow distort around it. \n The carved animal heads on the Newell posts and walls loll back and \n forth, alive then not-alive. Pieces of furniture stamp in fury, try \n to animate themselves, but can't find limbs that work.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n Come on, Hugh Crain, you know what \n to do. We've both been here \n before.\n\n The","Hugh Crain. Inside it's ornate golden \n framework, distinctive little cherubs are embedded. Cherubs of \n Death... She runs her fingers over it.\n\n THEO\n Maybe you shouldn't touch --\n\n Theo twirls out of the room, Nell, anxious, behind her.\n\n INT. MEZZANINE - DUSK\n\n As they come out of Crain's study Theo stops at the top of the \n stairs, Nell behind her.\n\n THE",", panting... There \n is nothing in the room. No Theo. She looks at her hand.\n\n The eye on the wall is gone.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n Oh, God. Who was holding my hand?\n\n Nell snaps around. There on the window, SPREADING before her eyes \n the frost on the glass is melting into a HORRIFYING FACE. The face \n of CRAIN.\n\n Nell recoils in prick","paint cleaner an a ladder. Nell stops, watching him. He senses \n her, pauses, and smiles.\n\n Nell reacts. Sees the ladder. Then Mr. Dudley disappears into the\n House.\n\n Nell once again starts to hurry away, but looking back over her\n shoulder, almost impales herself on the rusted iron fence of --\n\n EXT. FAMILY CEMETERY - DAY (CONTINUOUS)\n\n -- the tiny Crain family cemetery. ",". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'","His eyes are closed, unaware\n his breath is fogging too.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Nell lies there afraid to move, afraid to make the faintest sound.\n From the darkness above WOOD CREAKS. At first it seems like someone \n is walking on the floor above. But it is coming from within the \n room.\n\n The CARVINGS on the ceiling, the impossibly elaborate woodwork, ARE\n MOVING. Incredibly slowly, with"," died... How did you die?\n\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\n\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \n see the book.\n\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\n\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is"," Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\n\n NELL\n Hugh Crain. He's in the house. \n He's still here...\n\n Theo pulls back, goes very still. The first hint of fear in her \n eyes.\n\n THEO\n No.\n\n Marrow sees the panic working on her, gives her a stern look:\n\n MARROW\n Theo! You too. Listen to me.\n\n The command der","out in front now, bounding down a \n half flight ahead. Marrow and Theo support Nell between them.\n\n Nell looks up at the hooded painting of Crain, but is spun around \n and taken down the next flight.\n\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\n\n Nell, Marrow and Theo reach the bottom of the stairs and pause. \n Luke is halfway across the room, looking back to make sure they're \n with him --\n\n -- and Nell digs her heels in,","the \n house, and about Hugh Crain... but \n I'm asking you not to repeat it.\n\n LUKE\n I can keep a secret.\n\n They go in. The house is outlined by the sky and clouds and the \n moon.\n\n INT. MEZZANINE - NIGHT\n\n Luke catches up with Nell and Theo as he reaches the mezzanine. The\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\n behind.\n\n ","HALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\n\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\n\n EXT. GATE - DA","with a sheet, only its lion-head arm rests protruding from\n underneath. Nell realizes it's:\n\n NELL\n Crain's study.\n\n She moves for the desk. An ENORMOUS MIRROR, its silver inner \n surface flaking with age, tarnished, reflects the room, the desk, \n and FOR A SPLIT SECOND, A SHADOW IN THE CHAIR. Nell steps in front \n of it, blocking our view.\n\n"," here... and he won't let go of \n them!\n\n Marrow grabs her face.\n\n MARROW\n Nell!\n\n Luke rushes in with a blanket. Theo covers Nell and then holds her,\n gently.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Look at me, Nell. Look at me!\n\n Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\n\n NELL\n Hugh Crain. He's"],["?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where we're going?\n\n MARROW\n Yes. It's perfect, isn't it?\n\n Mary studies the picture, and she can't answer him. In her \n glasses, we get the thinnest reflection of the photograph, a \n glimpse of dark brick and high chimneys.\n\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\n\n Nell,","\n with the stipulation that it never \n be altered or sold. Crain's \n executors made good investments \n and for the last hundred and \n twenty years, Hill House has taken \n care of itself.\n\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\n\n TODD\n So what's this study all about \n anyway? Mary described"," Dr. Marrow, what is this house?\n\n When she says this, we should be seeing her from an odd perspective,\n the house's POV.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n There was once a king who built a \n palace. The King's name was Hugh \n Crain. A hundred and thirty years \n ago, when the Merrimack Valley was \n the center of American industry, \n Hugh Crain made two hundred \n million","\n\n MARROW\n In a way.\n\n Marrow studies the page. We go into the whiteness of the page to:\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n\n Where we find Theo. The House is beautiful today, it's sunny, there\n are flowers outside, the mood has changed. Theo is now softened, \n she's found something better than what she had. She goes into the \n house.\n\n INT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n","slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\n\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \n outside, distorted in the old glass.\n\n MARROW\n Someone is playing with you.\n\n NELL\n Why?\n\n MARROW\n I don't know.\n\n NELL\n It doesn't matter. Even if ","crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \n that we can't see.\n\n MARY\n What's this?\n (has to get his\n attention)\n What's this... this picture?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where","him say this line...\n\n MARROW\n Was it?\n\n But he should just look at her, and say the same thing with his \n eyes.\n\n We pull back.\n\n EXT. BERKSHIRE HILLS - DAY (AERIAL)\n\n The summer hills lie green, passing fast underneath. Clearings loom\n out of the forest ahead. And there, its sprawling stone in the\n sunshine, rises Hill House.\n\n FADE OUT.\n","have to hear me. Let me \n explain what's happening to you.\n (beat)\n You're participating in a study on \n hysteria.\n\n Everyone but Marrow REACTS.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n I've given you a powerful \n suggestion that you're in a \n haunted house. I picked Hill \n House because it fits the \n expectations. It was my... it was \n my","\n\n MARROW\n Nell, what do we do?\n\n NELL\n He played hide and seek with the \n children. That's how he built the \n house.\n\n Marrow stares at her, trembling. He glances around at the winding\n labyrinth of house. Impossible.\n\n MARROW\n We can't hide in here! We won't \n make it til morning.\n\n Nell looks at him","cont'd)\n Well, why don't we get some dinner \n while we're waiting for him?\n (beat, backing \n through the doors \n to the Great Hall)\n Welcome to Hill House, everyone.\n\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\n\n Marrow leads the way across the hall. The others check out the\n furnishings as they pass.\n\n TODD\n These old Victorian houses are \n great, aren't they?","\n Theo shakes her head. They aren't Marrow's. Marrow takes the keys \n from Nell, turns them over.\n\n THEO\n Maybe they're Mary's.\n\n MARROW\n Mary came with me.\n\n NELL\n When I first got here I saw a gray \n car pull up. I thought it was one \n of us.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n\n They stand on the front","ene, and a house \n filled with children.\n\n NELL\n All the carvings.\n\n MARROW\n But there's a sad catch to the \n story.\n\n MARY\n What happened?\n\n MARROW\n There were no children. Rene \n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts","Even now, Marrow can't believe what he just saw, but Theo's voice\n brings him back. He whirls, grabs onto Nell, helps Theo drag her \n out.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY/GATE - NIGHT\n\n Four cars sit behind the massive, locked gate, as far from Hill \n House as possible. Marrow paces past the fence, staring out, the \n road beyond leading out of this place, so close...\n\n Luke digs with a pen knife","about the \n house?\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you.\n\n Grinning, Dudley steps aside and Nell rolls through. And at that \n he just grins wider. Nell pulls away. Disturbed, she watches him \n in the rearview mirror. She turns and in front of her sprawls Hill \n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \n dwarf all others: towering, eye-","UKE\n Greetings.\n\n And Mary enters. Crossing the threshold, she catches her breath, \n and when she comes into the hall and sees everyone, she also sees \n the house in its detail. And she has a bad feeling.\n\n Marrow is still putting everyone at ease.\n\n MARROW\n Eleanor, how was the drive?\n\n NELL\n You can call me Nell, Dr. Marrow.\n\n MARROW\n Nell. ","Hill \n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \n dwarf all others: towering, eye-like windows and the jaws of a \n Grand Entry with carved ebony doors.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY - DAY\n\n The car rumbles up the drive toward the carport.\n\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\n\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \n carport. In the silence all we can hear","here with you.\n\n Silence. The others are embarrassed by her sincerity. She's right,\n Nell is not of their world.\n\n MARROW\n We're glad you're here.\n\n He says this with enough sympathy for Theo to see his interest in \n the girl in the thrift shop dress.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Why don't we move to another room?\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - NIGHT\n\n The H","inations. You brought us \n here to scare us. Insomnia, that \n was just a decoy issue. You're \n disgusting.\n\n NELL\n Is this true? I've been \n hypnotized?\n\n MARROW\n I hadn't done a study of how group \n fear affects individual \n performance. Mass hysteria is \n like a story, Nell. A communal \n ","it, hurts himself.\n\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \n hand on her shoulder.\n\n NELL\n It's not safe for you anymore. \n The children need me, and Crain is \n doing everything he can to keep me \n from them.\n\n Theo stares, appalled. Marrow looks around, puts his hand up to \n shush everyone. The HOUSE MOANS, the BUMPING growing, searching.","Marrow is the cold, analytical tone, his \n garbled jargon.\n\n MARROW (OC)\n One minute!\n\n It's Marrow, for real, about to enter. Nell clicks off the \n recorder, drops it into the briefcase. Marrow is startled, not \n expecting Nell to be sitting right next to his papers and briefcase.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Nell.\n\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead"],[" Maybe you did it yourself.\n\n NELL\n Why?\n\n THEO\n I don't know. You've been alone \n for a long time, maybe you want \n attention.\n (pointing to \n Marrow)\n Maybe he did it...\n\n MARROW\n I didn't. You know that, Nell.\n\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \n so ugly if","You know that, Nell.\n\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \n so ugly if it were true.\n\n NELL\n I don't know anything. Whoever \n did this, please, just... just say \n so... just... please... this is \n cruel. Don't be cruel to me. I \n can't stand it. You don't know \n me.\n\n And she runs out.\n","you think I did that. I \n didn't! Go to the great hall and \n look in the fireplace!\n\n She starts to laugh. Marrow gently presses Nell down, tucking the\n blanket around her.\n\n MARROW\n Why would we want to do that, \n Nell?\n\n NELL\n Because that's where he burned \n them up, the child laborers from \n his mills! Because that's where","elf reflected in its tarnished\n surface. But there is something wrong with it. Nell steps across \n to it.\n\n Her reflected self begins to SMILE. But SHE'S NOT SMILING! Nell\n writhes in horror, but can't pull away from the mirror. In it, her\n GRIN WIDENS, INSANE. <u>The bottom half of her face is someone else's</u>.\n\n BANG! Nell recoils. The sound breaks the"," NELL\n After Rene... after she killed \n herself... he turned into a \n monster. He did fill the house \n with children... he did, but... \n they weren't laughing...\n\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \n a padded bench on one side of the room.\n\n THEO\n Nell, what happened?\n\n NELL\n Carolyn showed me where she hid ","\n He's trying to protect the \n experiment. Personally, I don't \n think he's got a large enough \n sample for valid results, but as \n long as the money's good, and the \n food is good, I'm in.\n\n He heads off. Theo turns to find Nell staring at the animal heads \n on the stairs. Theo touches her. She starts.\n\n THEO\n Nell, it was an accident."," NELL\n Who did this? Why are you doing \n this? I don't know any of you. \n You don't know me. Why are you \n doing this to me?\n\n Luke shakes his head. Theo starts getting pissed. Marrow stands \n there, arms folded, observing.\n\n LUKE\n I didn't do it.\n\n THEO\n You could have.\n\n LUKE\n So","s face \n is the faintest, most inappropriate SMILE. It sends a chill through \n Nell.\n\n The album begins to slide down the shelf, and as it does, PAGES \n FLIP, Rene's SMILE grows wider, her hair dishevelled, her eyes lit \n with grinning insanity...\n\n Nell grabs the book just as it falls from the shelf.\n\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \n ","that's where he burned \n them up, the child laborers from \n his mills! Because that's where \n their bones are! He killed\n <i>hundreds</i>. He took them here and\n he killed them. Their bones are \n in the fireplace!\n\n Nell sobs. The others exchange looks at this. It sounds so hollow, \n so delusional, it makes Marrow look so right.\n\n MARROW\n "," THEO\n Nell, it makes sense. It all \n makes sense. You and I, we were \n scaring each other, working each \n other up.\n\n NELL\n -- but the painting!\n\n Nobody says anythlng. The silence tortures Nell.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n I know you think I did that. I \n didn't! Go to the great hall and \n look in the fireplace","Dead on her. Nell stops. And with sudden\n violence, she's WRENCHED out of the bed by whatever's beside her. \n Nell hits the floor with a scream. She grabs at the table on this \n side of the bed, pulling a lamp down on her, yanking at its chain.\n\n The room FLASHES into brilliance. Nell stands up, panting... There \n is nothing in the room. No Theo. She looks at her hand.\n\n The eye on"," NELL (cont'd)\n No...\n\n But the substance doesn't come from the ceiling.\n\n It is as if the oils on the PAINTING OF HUGH CRAIN have been boiled \n by a heat gun and blasted off, running down from there. Hugh's face \n is gone. In place of the face, the underlying ivory of the canvas \n glares out... like a skull.\n\n Nell SCREAMS and runs away, the others calling out after her in ","sliver of sunlight showing \n through. As her eyes adjust, she makes out the furnishings of a \n late-nineteenth century office, Crain's secret office.\n\n The bookcases filled with business ledgers. The business ledgers \n are stamped with the cherub of death.\n\n At the end is an enormous desk. Behind it a massive, carved chair\n covered with a sheet, only its lion-head arm rests protruding from\n underneath. Nell realizes it's:\n\n ","mouth.\n\n The furniture is in EXACTLY the same position, though the sheets\n covering the pieces are stained, FAR OLDER.\n\n And on the wall, something in a frame is covered with a piece of\n sheet.\n\n Nell approaches it in trepidation and removes the cloth. For a long\n beat, all we see is her face as it goes slack. Understanding.\n\n The framed thing is a stitchery. It says: A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING,\n EVERYTH","The bottom half of her face is someone else's</u>.\n\n BANG! Nell recoils. The sound breaks the spell, knocking Nell back\n from the mirror.\n\n BANG. BANG. BANG. Nell turns and runs.\n\n INT. HALL OF PILLARS - NIGHT\n\n The banging chases Nell into the hall of pillars. Nell turns to \n face whatever it is that's coming after her. The BANGING \n CRESC","-- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is only from up here on the second \n floor with this curtain open that the FACE is visible in the late-\n day sunlight.\n\n Despite the artist's discretion, the lines in the man's skin, his\n eyes, his posture, cry of unspeakable sickness.\n\n Unconsciously, Nell takes a step back. In the far b.g., near the \n ",".\n\n They all react to the sight of Nell at the precarious top -- with \n her insanely happy smile. They think she's there to kill herself. \n Just like Rene Crain.\n\n They all freak out in a chorus of 'Nell! No, Nell!'\n\n MARROW\n Nell! Don't move.\n\n Nell couldn't anyway. She just grins madly, tears running down her\n face. Marrow grabs for the stairs,","Nell stands there with her arms spread. A long moment.\n\n She opens her eyes.\n\n And then the woodwork LASHES OUT, grabs her from behind, slams her\n back against the doors. THE BLOW HAS KILLED HER.\n\n We feel her bones break as she crumples, is drawn into the woodwork.\n\n And for a few seconds Nell's body just hangs there... and then it\n gently falls down.\n\n Theo lets out a horrified cry as she runs toward","'s hundreds of them. This \n must be a record of the children \n who died at the mills, like Luke \n said.\n\n THEO\n Before he painted your name over \n Mister Crain.\n\n Theo hands her the bottle. Nell takes it, tops off her glass,\n spilling. Her face is red. She grimaces as she tosses back a big\n swallow.\n\n NELL\n You really think it was Luke?\n\n ",". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'"],["slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\n\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \n outside, distorted in the old glass.\n\n MARROW\n Someone is playing with you.\n\n NELL\n Why?\n\n MARROW\n I don't know.\n\n NELL\n It doesn't matter. Even if "," At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\n\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \n if the House itself is breathing.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still ","HALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\n\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\n\n EXT. GATE - DA","crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \n that we can't see.\n\n MARY\n What's this?\n (has to get his\n attention)\n What's this... this picture?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where","it, hurts himself.\n\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \n hand on her shoulder.\n\n NELL\n It's not safe for you anymore. \n The children need me, and Crain is \n doing everything he can to keep me \n from them.\n\n Theo stares, appalled. Marrow looks around, puts his hand up to \n shush everyone. The HOUSE MOANS, the BUMPING growing, searching."," with you in person was the night \n we met here.\n\n NELL\n Then who called me?\n\n Hill House looms behind her, windows forming eyes, the carport a\n gaping mouth.\n\n Nell's dismay becomes a cold, terrifying understanding, and she \n turns and stares back up at the House.\n\n Luke comes up with Theo on the other side of the car.\n\n THEO\n Nell --\n\n LUKE\n -- how much",", its handle hitting a spring. Nell recoils as the trapdoors \n SNAP SHUT like a pair of jaws.\n\n INT. GROUND HALLWAY FLOOR - DUSK\n\n Nell stumbles down the hall, weeping in fear.\n\n NELL\n Theo! Jim! Help!\n\n But instead she hears children voices, calling out for her.\n\n INT. CONFUSING SERIES OF ROOMS (THE MAZE) - NIGHT\n\n Nell"," We interpret everything \n through it, make it fit the story. \n I started our story when I gave \n you the history of Hill House. \n You've added to it. That's what \n this experiment has all been \n about. That's what it was about, \n the experiment's over. I'm \n pulling the plug. This is my \n fault.\n\n NELL\n It's not real? Cr","The children Hugh \n Crain built the house for. The \n children he never had.\n\n LUKE\n Come on. These are the typically \n sentimental gestures of a depraved \n industrialist.\n\n He puts his hand on a CHAIR, the back of which is heavily carved in\n the motif he just described.\n\n Nell turns him an appalled look.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n Theo was working in the dining ","o softly moans over Nell.\n\n And as the camera pans up across the entry door, we see a new \n carving in the sculpted doors. It is a woman and as we move in we \n can see that she wears the same necklace as Nell...\n\n INT. HILL HOUSE FRONT DOORS, ENTRY - EARLY MORNING\n\n The HOUSE INHALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT",", bare feet flying, covering her face\n from MIRRORS left and right. She stumbles into --\n\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)\n\n -- the greenhouse where she slips on the marble. She kicks the door\n shut behind her and lunges for the spiral staircase, her horror\n driving her up and up, setting the rickety thing swinging. We HEAR\n what Nell hears, the voices of children.\n\n VOICES OF CHILDRE","\n with the stipulation that it never \n be altered or sold. Crain's \n executors made good investments \n and for the last hundred and \n twenty years, Hill House has taken \n care of itself.\n\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\n\n TODD\n So what's this study all about \n anyway? Mary described","What is \n it about fences? Sometimes a \n locked chain makes people on both \n sides of the fence just a little \n more comfortable. Why would that \n be?\n\n He unwinds the enormous chain, heavy turn after heavy turn. The \n gates swing in, revealing HILL HOUSE.\n\n NELL\n Is there something about the \n house?\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you"," Nell stares in drunken fascination. And as the first fear begins to\n rise in her throat, the wind dies down and in its place there is the\n FAINTEST TRACE OF CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER. Nell's reaction changes... \n to awe.\n\n Tentative, her hand goes out, shaking... and touches the mantle.\n\n It is hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \n FACES engraved in the wood all seem","into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth and sends \n Luke flying through the chain curtains.\n\n The others are speechless. They can do nothing but watch as Luke \n lays there on the ashdrop. A long moment.\n\n NELL\n (to the house, to\n Crain)\n No! No! Let them go!\n\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to","ene, and a house \n filled with children.\n\n NELL\n All the carvings.\n\n MARROW\n But there's a sad catch to the \n story.\n\n MARY\n What happened?\n\n MARROW\n There were no children. Rene \n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts","hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \n FACES engraved in the wood all seem to be peering up at her, hands\n outstretched for her, hopeful.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATES - NIGHT\n\n The enormous LOCKED gates are silhouetted against the moonlit sky. \n The chain is dangling in the wind.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the","?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where we're going?\n\n MARROW\n Yes. It's perfect, isn't it?\n\n Mary studies the picture, and she can't answer him. In her \n glasses, we get the thinnest reflection of the photograph, a \n glimpse of dark brick and high chimneys.\n\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\n\n Nell,",". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'"," We can't hide in here! We won't \n make it til morning.\n\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\n\n NELL\n I know.\n\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \n and they all look down in fear toward the great"],[". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'","slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\n\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \n outside, distorted in the old glass.\n\n MARROW\n Someone is playing with you.\n\n NELL\n Why?\n\n MARROW\n I don't know.\n\n NELL\n It doesn't matter. Even if ","about the \n house?\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you.\n\n Grinning, Dudley steps aside and Nell rolls through. And at that \n he just grins wider. Nell pulls away. Disturbed, she watches him \n in the rearview mirror. She turns and in front of her sprawls Hill \n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \n dwarf all others: towering, eye-"," NELL\n They sent me directions and I've \n got a map, but it's kind of \n confusing. Here... it's a place \n called Hill House?\n\n His helpful attitude changes dramatically.\n\n GAS STATION ATTENDANT\n Hill House.\n\n He takes the map book and tears out the page and crumples it up.\n\n NELL\n What are you doing?\n\n GAS STATION ATTENDANT\n You don","?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where we're going?\n\n MARROW\n Yes. It's perfect, isn't it?\n\n Mary studies the picture, and she can't answer him. In her \n glasses, we get the thinnest reflection of the photograph, a \n glimpse of dark brick and high chimneys.\n\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\n\n Nell,","wouldn't you be \n leaving right this second? Why \n wouldn't you be afraid? Really \n afraid.\n\n NELL\n Because I don't want to ruin \n things. Because home is where the \n heart is.\n\n Theo is chilled by this answer which would only make sense to \n someone out of her mind.\n\n Nell looks up and sees the double staircase at the end of the\n greenhouse... the one where Crain's wife","You know that, Nell.\n\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \n so ugly if it were true.\n\n NELL\n I don't know anything. Whoever \n did this, please, just... just say \n so... just... please... this is \n cruel. Don't be cruel to me. I \n can't stand it. You don't know \n me.\n\n And she runs out.\n","AY\n\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \n carport. In the silence all we can hear is her breathing.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n\n Her car sits in front of the house, tiny, alone. Its brake lights \n go off.\n\n The finger-like pillars of the car port seem like a hand pinning \n the car in place under the House's gaze.\n\n Nell gets out of the car.\n\n Nell stares,","\n and Nell heard him. She thought \n it was ghosts. Let's go look for \n him again.\n\n MARROW\n No. If he's lost somewhere in the \n house... he'll have to stay lost \n until tomorrow, until the night is \n over. What we have to do now is \n be together, with Nell.\n\n And they go. Three scared people.\n\n INT. NELL'S BATH","'s calm.\n Terrifyingly calm. And in that moment, he realizes she's not out of\n her mind. She just understands things beyond what he could possible\n begin to understand.\n\n MARROW\n What'll happen to us, Nell?\n\n NELL\n Nothing, if you leave right now. \n There's a war going on all around \n us. Don't get in the way, please.\n\n Nell cinches the shoelace tight around","FLOOR HALLWAY - DAY\n\n Nell emerges from the study, stands there a beat, lost. Then she\n turns, resolute, and starts moving. Faster.\n\n INT. GREAT HALL - DAY\n\n Nell, blinded by tears, runs across the room toward the grand entry\n and the exit... and stops.\n\n DOWN THE CONNECTING HALL, out in the grand entry, at the front \n doors, are Mr. and Mrs. Dudley. Leaving for the","HALL, out in the grand entry, at the front \n doors, are Mr. and Mrs. Dudley. Leaving for the day. They stop. \n Look at her.\n\n Nell, numb, gazes from the open door to Mrs. Dudley. Mr. Dudley \n holds the door open as if in invitation. Nell could walk out right \n now. This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And","collapsing, twisting in a\n deafening hail of steel and glass.\n\n The massive gate has BENT itself AROUND the car, holding it in its\n steel-grip.\n\n EXT. GATE - NIGHT\n\n Nell understands, the house will not let her go. She turns away \n from the gate, faces the House, mesmerized by the beauty in this\n monstrosity. The House is calling her back, and Nell is drawn \n towards it. She starts walking...\n"," with you in person was the night \n we met here.\n\n NELL\n Then who called me?\n\n Hill House looms behind her, windows forming eyes, the carport a\n gaping mouth.\n\n Nell's dismay becomes a cold, terrifying understanding, and she \n turns and stares back up at the House.\n\n Luke comes up with Theo on the other side of the car.\n\n THEO\n Nell --\n\n LUKE\n -- how much","hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \n FACES engraved in the wood all seem to be peering up at her, hands\n outstretched for her, hopeful.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATES - NIGHT\n\n The enormous LOCKED gates are silhouetted against the moonlit sky. \n The chain is dangling in the wind.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the"," We interpret everything \n through it, make it fit the story. \n I started our story when I gave \n you the history of Hill House. \n You've added to it. That's what \n this experiment has all been \n about. That's what it was about, \n the experiment's over. I'm \n pulling the plug. This is my \n fault.\n\n NELL\n It's not real? Cr","I \n can't stand it. You don't know \n me.\n\n And she runs out.\n\n Nell grabs for the door to leave.\n\n She flings open the door. MONSTROUS arms seem to grab at her. But \n it's only a wild-looking coat rack in the hall.\n\n EXT. 2ND FLOOR BALCONY - DAY\n\n Nell stands at the railing of a stone balcony on the house's second\n floor"," We can't hide in here! We won't \n make it til morning.\n\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\n\n NELL\n I know.\n\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \n and they all look down in fear toward the great","ling in the wind.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the light shining dim through the gauze\n curtain. It goes out. The window stares from an arrangement of \n other windows, stonework and doors... like an eye with a cataract in \n a face howling in horror.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Nell, her breathing heavy, lies tangled in her heavy blankets, \n asleep, but rest","Hill \n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \n dwarf all others: towering, eye-like windows and the jaws of a \n Grand Entry with carved ebony doors.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY - DAY\n\n The car rumbles up the drive toward the carport.\n\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\n\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \n carport. In the silence all we can hear"],[". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'",", panting... There \n is nothing in the room. No Theo. She looks at her hand.\n\n The eye on the wall is gone.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n Oh, God. Who was holding my hand?\n\n Nell snaps around. There on the window, SPREADING before her eyes \n the frost on the glass is melting into a HORRIFYING FACE. The face \n of CRAIN.\n\n Nell recoils in prick","into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth and sends \n Luke flying through the chain curtains.\n\n The others are speechless. They can do nothing but watch as Luke \n lays there on the ashdrop. A long moment.\n\n NELL\n (to the house, to\n Crain)\n No! No! Let them go!\n\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to"," looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\n\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\n\n NELL\n Finally.\n\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\n\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is","s face \n is the faintest, most inappropriate SMILE. It sends a chill through \n Nell.\n\n The album begins to slide down the shelf, and as it does, PAGES \n FLIP, Rene's SMILE grows wider, her hair dishevelled, her eyes lit \n with grinning insanity...\n\n Nell grabs the book just as it falls from the shelf.\n\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \n ","faces as shattered bits of bone, loose\n teeth pelt them. Nell is immune.\n\n They run up the Grand Staircase toward the top and finally it can't\n reach them anymore.\n\n INT. MEZZANINE - NIGHT\n\n They look out at the full scope of Crain's horror.\n\n THEO\n Oh God, we can't get out!\n\n MARROW\n Nell, what do we do?\n\n NELL\n He played hide and seek","> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts, looks at the house with a strange feeling.\n\n NELL\n That's so sad.\n\n This has been tense between them, a gunfight. POP! A LOG in the\n fireplace makes everyone jump. Theo relishes it, but Nell shudders.\n\n MARY\n I think there's more to the story. \n This house"," Crain)\n No! No! Let them go!\n\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to prevent it. Luke\n stands up, has time to give her a look.\n\n And then the LION'S HEAD FLUE drops open behind him. Luke looks \n back into its iron eyes --\n\n -- and with SHOCKING SPEED the FLUE snaps shut again, taking Luke's\n head off his body.\n\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like"," died... How did you die?\n\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\n\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \n see the book.\n\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\n\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is","with grace and power. CAROLYN CRAIN. Posed. On a \n settee before the fireplace. Beautiful beyond words. Smiling. \n Ahead of her time.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n His second wife. There was a \n second wife? Carolyn.\n\n It warms Nell.\n\n She turns the page. Now Crain is there beside Carolyn. But there \n is something different about him. Less frightening.\n\n","ene, and a house \n filled with children.\n\n NELL\n All the carvings.\n\n MARROW\n But there's a sad catch to the \n story.\n\n MARY\n What happened?\n\n MARROW\n There were no children. Rene \n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts","just as it falls from the shelf.\n\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \n the enormous fireplace in the Great Hall. RENE IS GONE. The photo \n is monstrous. Nell, fearful, turns the page --\n\n -- and REACTS to the last thing she expected. A picture of a lovely\n woman filled with grace and power. CAROLYN CRAIN. Posed. On a \n settee before the fireplace. ","into a HORRIFYING FACE. The face \n of CRAIN.\n\n Nell recoils in prickling fear. Living fear. Then her fear turns \n to RAGE. In the blink of an eye there's a heavy ashtray in her \n hand, and it's flying at the window.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n I will not let you hurt a CHILD!\n\n The window BASHES out into the night, the face vanishing with a HOWL\n",".\n\n Nell looks up and sees the double staircase at the end of the\n greenhouse... the one where Crain's wife killed herself.\n\n And for a moment we see Crain's wife hanging there and then the \n image is gone...\n\n INT. DINING ROOM - DAY\n\n Lunch remains are on the table as Nell enters, test papers in hand.\n\n NELL\n Jim? I'm done.\n\n But Marrow isn't there. She's about to","it, hurts himself.\n\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \n hand on her shoulder.\n\n NELL\n It's not safe for you anymore. \n The children need me, and Crain is \n doing everything he can to keep me \n from them.\n\n Theo stares, appalled. Marrow looks around, puts his hand up to \n shush everyone. The HOUSE MOANS, the BUMPING growing, searching."," We interpret everything \n through it, make it fit the story. \n I started our story when I gave \n you the history of Hill House. \n You've added to it. That's what \n this experiment has all been \n about. That's what it was about, \n the experiment's over. I'm \n pulling the plug. This is my \n fault.\n\n NELL\n It's not real? Cr"," We can't hide in here! We won't \n make it til morning.\n\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\n\n NELL\n I know.\n\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \n and they all look down in fear toward the great","lullaby I guess. \n My mother used to hum it to me. \n And her mother before that, and so \n on.\n (to the statue)\n Hugh Crain, would you care to \n dance?\n\n She hums another two notes, and BANG! The door behind her SLAMS \n OPEN in a gust of wind, jolting Nell. She stops and stares. \n Outside the window, through the glass, she sees Mr. Dudley,","the page. Now Crain is there beside Carolyn. But there \n is something different about him. Less frightening.\n\n Nell flips the page again, and now there is an image of Crain and\n Carolyn. Her hair is up in a FRENCH TWIST. Nell smiles more.\n\n Nell turns the page yet again.\n\n <u>But something is wrong</u>. It is another image of Carolyn and the\n kinder, gentler Crain, but now it is Carolyn who","recovers, reaches out for Nell, and the FACE in the ceiling\n turns on him. The GAZE stops Marrow in his tracks. He looks up \n into it and knows it's real. Somehow, it is Crain.\n\n Luke appears from out of nowhere on the other side of the bed and\n SMASHES off one of the wooden hands with a large brass candelabra.\n Nell screams in surprise, but Theo drags her out of the bed.\n\n The head turns to them. "],[". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'","into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth and sends \n Luke flying through the chain curtains.\n\n The others are speechless. They can do nothing but watch as Luke \n lays there on the ashdrop. A long moment.\n\n NELL\n (to the house, to\n Crain)\n No! No! Let them go!\n\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to","Nell stands there with her arms spread. A long moment.\n\n She opens her eyes.\n\n And then the woodwork LASHES OUT, grabs her from behind, slams her\n back against the doors. THE BLOW HAS KILLED HER.\n\n We feel her bones break as she crumples, is drawn into the woodwork.\n\n And for a few seconds Nell's body just hangs there... and then it\n gently falls down.\n\n Theo lets out a horrified cry as she runs toward","o softly moans over Nell.\n\n And as the camera pans up across the entry door, we see a new \n carving in the sculpted doors. It is a woman and as we move in we \n can see that she wears the same necklace as Nell...\n\n INT. HILL HOUSE FRONT DOORS, ENTRY - EARLY MORNING\n\n The HOUSE INHALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT","a door on the right, and then stops dead. Staring.\n\n The shut, dark, door, the one that scared Nell and Theo earlier,\n awaits them at the end. Ominous.\n\n Nell approaches. Closer and closer. The door nears.\n\n Nell wraps her arms tightly about herself and try's to open the \n door. It's locked. Her BREATH FOGS THE AIR. She doesn't notice \n it. But then she suddenly GAG","with a sheet, only its lion-head arm rests protruding from\n underneath. Nell realizes it's:\n\n NELL\n Crain's study.\n\n She moves for the desk. An ENORMOUS MIRROR, its silver inner \n surface flaking with age, tarnished, reflects the room, the desk, \n and FOR A SPLIT SECOND, A SHADOW IN THE CHAIR. Nell steps in front \n of it, blocking our view.\n\n","Nell walks through the row of dark statues. Carved faces watch her\n pass.\n\n INT. HALL OUTSIDE LOCKED ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Nell stands before the threshold of the horrific doors, once locked,\n now inexplicably OPEN. The mythological frieze on the door split in\n half, a world cut in two, a seal broken. Like something has come \n out of its tomb.\n\n Nell steps into the blackness.\n\n INT. THEO'S ROOM",".\n\n Nell looks up and sees the double staircase at the end of the\n greenhouse... the one where Crain's wife killed herself.\n\n And for a moment we see Crain's wife hanging there and then the \n image is gone...\n\n INT. DINING ROOM - DAY\n\n Lunch remains are on the table as Nell enters, test papers in hand.\n\n NELL\n Jim? I'm done.\n\n But Marrow isn't there. She's about to",", panting... There \n is nothing in the room. No Theo. She looks at her hand.\n\n The eye on the wall is gone.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n Oh, God. Who was holding my hand?\n\n Nell snaps around. There on the window, SPREADING before her eyes \n the frost on the glass is melting into a HORRIFYING FACE. The face \n of CRAIN.\n\n Nell recoils in prick","it, hurts himself.\n\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \n hand on her shoulder.\n\n NELL\n It's not safe for you anymore. \n The children need me, and Crain is \n doing everything he can to keep me \n from them.\n\n Theo stares, appalled. Marrow looks around, puts his hand up to \n shush everyone. The HOUSE MOANS, the BUMPING growing, searching."," looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\n\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\n\n NELL\n Finally.\n\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\n\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is",", its handle hitting a spring. Nell recoils as the trapdoors \n SNAP SHUT like a pair of jaws.\n\n INT. GROUND HALLWAY FLOOR - DUSK\n\n Nell stumbles down the hall, weeping in fear.\n\n NELL\n Theo! Jim! Help!\n\n But instead she hears children voices, calling out for her.\n\n INT. CONFUSING SERIES OF ROOMS (THE MAZE) - NIGHT\n\n Nell","around \n us. Don't get in the way, please.\n\n Nell cinches the shoelace tight around his wrist.\n\n Luke throws down the chair, giving up on the window.\n\n LUKE\n Shit! All right, you \n sonofabitch...\n\n As he looks up at another one of Crain's painting hanging on the \n wall. Nell Theo with Marrow straggle toward the great hall.\n\n INT. VESTIBULE TO","breath-stealing horror. Nell recovers.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n No! Go AWAY!\n\n The screen punches out at them, denting. And then all the air in \n the room seems to be SUCKED into the fireplace in one THUMP. The \n door to the bathroom slams.\n\n It's gone. They sit there in the darkness, panting.\n\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NEXT DAY\n\n Nell stares","Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'S SECRET STUDY - DAY\n\n Nell sits in silence, trying to find a feeling, any feeling. A long\n beat. And without warning she leaps to her feet in SHOCKING rage.\n\n NELL\n How can he think I'm doing this!\n\n She has a floor lamp in her hands, and hurls it like a throwing \n hammer at the"," died... How did you die?\n\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\n\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \n see the book.\n\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\n\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is","\n are looking back at them, Nell goes cold. Theo holds herself.\n\n NELL\n We should go back.\n\n Theo nods. They turn around, Theo opening what she thinks was the \n door they came through.\n\n INT. NARROW STAIRCASE - DUSK\n\n They hurry down a narrow staircase, Theo first, Nell right behind.\n\n NELL\n Theo, I'm scared --\n\n They fly down a set of steps, The"," We can't hide in here! We won't \n make it til morning.\n\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\n\n NELL\n I know.\n\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \n and they all look down in fear toward the great"," Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\n\n NELL\n Hugh Crain. He's in the house. \n He's still here...\n\n Theo pulls back, goes very still. The first hint of fear in her \n eyes.\n\n THEO\n No.\n\n Marrow sees the panic working on her, gives her a stern look:\n\n MARROW\n Theo! You too. Listen to me.\n\n The command der","She passes door after door, shadow after shadow, and as she nears \n the end of the hall... there is no door here. Not within 20 feet \n of, where we thought we just saw it.\n\n A WHISPER. VOICES. Nell backs away. And then LAUGHTER. Behind \n her. It's coming from another stairwell. Very real... and very \n human.\n\n INT. BACK STAIRWAY - DAY\n\n Nell looks down from the"],[". And there, its sprawling stone in the\n sunshine, rises Hill House.\n\n FADE OUT.\n\n\n\n ALTERNATE ENDING\n\n EXT. GATE - DAWN\n\n Theo and Marrow stand on the far side of Nell's wrecked car. On the\n other side of the gate Mr. Dudley is undoing the chain. Mrs. Dudley\n stares at the ragged duo.\n\n MRS. DUDLEY\n ("," We interpret everything \n through it, make it fit the story. \n I started our story when I gave \n you the history of Hill House. \n You've added to it. That's what \n this experiment has all been \n about. That's what it was about, \n the experiment's over. I'm \n pulling the plug. This is my \n fault.\n\n NELL\n It's not real? Cr","slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\n\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \n outside, distorted in the old glass.\n\n MARROW\n Someone is playing with you.\n\n NELL\n Why?\n\n MARROW\n I don't know.\n\n NELL\n It doesn't matter. Even if ","HALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\n\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\n\n EXT. GATE - DA"," with you in person was the night \n we met here.\n\n NELL\n Then who called me?\n\n Hill House looms behind her, windows forming eyes, the carport a\n gaping mouth.\n\n Nell's dismay becomes a cold, terrifying understanding, and she \n turns and stares back up at the House.\n\n Luke comes up with Theo on the other side of the car.\n\n THEO\n Nell --\n\n LUKE\n -- how much","him say this line...\n\n MARROW\n Was it?\n\n But he should just look at her, and say the same thing with his \n eyes.\n\n We pull back.\n\n EXT. BERKSHIRE HILLS - DAY (AERIAL)\n\n The summer hills lie green, passing fast underneath. Clearings loom\n out of the forest ahead. And there, its sprawling stone in the\n sunshine, rises Hill House.\n\n FADE OUT.\n","hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \n FACES engraved in the wood all seem to be peering up at her, hands\n outstretched for her, hopeful.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATES - NIGHT\n\n The enormous LOCKED gates are silhouetted against the moonlit sky. \n The chain is dangling in the wind.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the"," At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\n\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \n if the House itself is breathing.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still ","o softly moans over Nell.\n\n And as the camera pans up across the entry door, we see a new \n carving in the sculpted doors. It is a woman and as we move in we \n can see that she wears the same necklace as Nell...\n\n INT. HILL HOUSE FRONT DOORS, ENTRY - EARLY MORNING\n\n The HOUSE INHALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT","Even now, Marrow can't believe what he just saw, but Theo's voice\n brings him back. He whirls, grabs onto Nell, helps Theo drag her \n out.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY/GATE - NIGHT\n\n Four cars sit behind the massive, locked gate, as far from Hill \n House as possible. Marrow paces past the fence, staring out, the \n road beyond leading out of this place, so close...\n\n Luke digs with a pen knife","\n\n MARROW\n In a way.\n\n Marrow studies the page. We go into the whiteness of the page to:\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n\n Where we find Theo. The House is beautiful today, it's sunny, there\n are flowers outside, the mood has changed. Theo is now softened, \n she's found something better than what she had. She goes into the \n house.\n\n INT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n","s found something better than what she had. She goes into the \n house.\n\n INT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n\n Theo is in the House. She looks around, walks up the stairs.\n\n THEO\n Nell?... Nell?\n\n EXT. BERKSHIRE HILLS - DAY (AERIAL)\n\n The summer hills lie green, passing fast underneath. Clearings loom\n out of the forest ahead. And there, its sprawling stone in the\n ",". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'","crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \n that we can't see.\n\n MARY\n What's this?\n (has to get his\n attention)\n What's this... this picture?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where","\n with the stipulation that it never \n be altered or sold. Crain's \n executors made good investments \n and for the last hundred and \n twenty years, Hill House has taken \n care of itself.\n\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\n\n TODD\n So what's this study all about \n anyway? Mary described","?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where we're going?\n\n MARROW\n Yes. It's perfect, isn't it?\n\n Mary studies the picture, and she can't answer him. In her \n glasses, we get the thinnest reflection of the photograph, a \n glimpse of dark brick and high chimneys.\n\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\n\n Nell,","AY\n\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \n carport. In the silence all we can hear is her breathing.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n\n Her car sits in front of the house, tiny, alone. Its brake lights \n go off.\n\n The finger-like pillars of the car port seem like a hand pinning \n the car in place under the House's gaze.\n\n Nell gets out of the car.\n\n Nell stares,","Hill \n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \n dwarf all others: towering, eye-like windows and the jaws of a \n Grand Entry with carved ebony doors.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY - DAY\n\n The car rumbles up the drive toward the carport.\n\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\n\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \n carport. In the silence all we can hear","into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth and sends \n Luke flying through the chain curtains.\n\n The others are speechless. They can do nothing but watch as Luke \n lays there on the ashdrop. A long moment.\n\n NELL\n (to the house, to\n Crain)\n No! No! Let them go!\n\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to","d)\n No, no, you leave them alone!\n\n And the griffin turns back into brass. Marrow and Theo unaware of \n what happened behind them. They have to get out of there.\n\n INT. SECOND FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT\n\n Nell leads Marrow and Theo down the dark hallway, the twisted \n woodwork along the walls frozen, but seeming poised to reach out, \n trip someone, grab a sleeve.\n\n It is a nightmare House. Doing"],[". And there, its sprawling stone in the\n sunshine, rises Hill House.\n\n FADE OUT.\n\n\n\n ALTERNATE ENDING\n\n EXT. GATE - DAWN\n\n Theo and Marrow stand on the far side of Nell's wrecked car. On the\n other side of the gate Mr. Dudley is undoing the chain. Mrs. Dudley\n stares at the ragged duo.\n\n MRS. DUDLEY\n ("," with you in person was the night \n we met here.\n\n NELL\n Then who called me?\n\n Hill House looms behind her, windows forming eyes, the carport a\n gaping mouth.\n\n Nell's dismay becomes a cold, terrifying understanding, and she \n turns and stares back up at the House.\n\n Luke comes up with Theo on the other side of the car.\n\n THEO\n Nell --\n\n LUKE\n -- how much","HALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\n\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\n\n EXT. GATE - DA","Hill \n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \n dwarf all others: towering, eye-like windows and the jaws of a \n Grand Entry with carved ebony doors.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY - DAY\n\n The car rumbles up the drive toward the carport.\n\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\n\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \n carport. In the silence all we can hear","slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\n\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \n outside, distorted in the old glass.\n\n MARROW\n Someone is playing with you.\n\n NELL\n Why?\n\n MARROW\n I don't know.\n\n NELL\n It doesn't matter. Even if ","AY\n\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \n carport. In the silence all we can hear is her breathing.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n\n Her car sits in front of the house, tiny, alone. Its brake lights \n go off.\n\n The finger-like pillars of the car port seem like a hand pinning \n the car in place under the House's gaze.\n\n Nell gets out of the car.\n\n Nell stares,","crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \n that we can't see.\n\n MARY\n What's this?\n (has to get his\n attention)\n What's this... this picture?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where","s found something better than what she had. She goes into the \n house.\n\n INT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n\n Theo is in the House. She looks around, walks up the stairs.\n\n THEO\n Nell?... Nell?\n\n EXT. BERKSHIRE HILLS - DAY (AERIAL)\n\n The summer hills lie green, passing fast underneath. Clearings loom\n out of the forest ahead. And there, its sprawling stone in the\n ","Even now, Marrow can't believe what he just saw, but Theo's voice\n brings him back. He whirls, grabs onto Nell, helps Theo drag her \n out.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY/GATE - NIGHT\n\n Four cars sit behind the massive, locked gate, as far from Hill \n House as possible. Marrow paces past the fence, staring out, the \n road beyond leading out of this place, so close...\n\n Luke digs with a pen knife"," We interpret everything \n through it, make it fit the story. \n I started our story when I gave \n you the history of Hill House. \n You've added to it. That's what \n this experiment has all been \n about. That's what it was about, \n the experiment's over. I'm \n pulling the plug. This is my \n fault.\n\n NELL\n It's not real? Cr","?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where we're going?\n\n MARROW\n Yes. It's perfect, isn't it?\n\n Mary studies the picture, and she can't answer him. In her \n glasses, we get the thinnest reflection of the photograph, a \n glimpse of dark brick and high chimneys.\n\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\n\n Nell,","hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \n FACES engraved in the wood all seem to be peering up at her, hands\n outstretched for her, hopeful.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATES - NIGHT\n\n The enormous LOCKED gates are silhouetted against the moonlit sky. \n The chain is dangling in the wind.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the"," At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\n\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \n if the House itself is breathing.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still ","\n Theo shakes her head. They aren't Marrow's. Marrow takes the keys \n from Nell, turns them over.\n\n THEO\n Maybe they're Mary's.\n\n MARROW\n Mary came with me.\n\n NELL\n When I first got here I saw a gray \n car pull up. I thought it was one \n of us.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\n\n They stand on the front","him say this line...\n\n MARROW\n Was it?\n\n But he should just look at her, and say the same thing with his \n eyes.\n\n We pull back.\n\n EXT. BERKSHIRE HILLS - DAY (AERIAL)\n\n The summer hills lie green, passing fast underneath. Clearings loom\n out of the forest ahead. And there, its sprawling stone in the\n sunshine, rises Hill House.\n\n FADE OUT.\n","o softly moans over Nell.\n\n And as the camera pans up across the entry door, we see a new \n carving in the sculpted doors. It is a woman and as we move in we \n can see that she wears the same necklace as Nell...\n\n INT. HILL HOUSE FRONT DOORS, ENTRY - EARLY MORNING\n\n The HOUSE INHALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT","of\n immense stone pillars. Between them, a steel GATE as high as the \n wall, chained and padlocked.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATE - DAY\n\n The gate stands immense. Silent. Forbidding. Beyond them a \n gravel drive curves away through the trees. Nell kills her car, \n gets out, instructions in hand. No one in sight. A long beat. \n She reaches in and blows the HORN.\n\n The HORN","cont'd)\n Well, why don't we get some dinner \n while we're waiting for him?\n (beat, backing \n through the doors \n to the Great Hall)\n Welcome to Hill House, everyone.\n\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\n\n Marrow leads the way across the hall. The others check out the\n furnishings as they pass.\n\n TODD\n These old Victorian houses are \n great, aren't they?","--\n\n -- Nell is just vanishing around the corner, her rapid footsteps\n echoing in the vaulted room.\n\n EXT. REAR LAWN - DAY\n\n Nell hurries away from the House, across the rear lawn, ashamed at\n herself as much as she is spooked.\n\n In the distance Mr. Dudley is walking toward the House with cans of\n paint cleaner an a ladder. Nell stops, watching him. He senses \n her, pauses, and smiles.\n\n ","about the \n house?\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you.\n\n Grinning, Dudley steps aside and Nell rolls through. And at that \n he just grins wider. Nell pulls away. Disturbed, she watches him \n in the rearview mirror. She turns and in front of her sprawls Hill \n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \n dwarf all others: towering, eye-"],["snaps shut again, taking Luke's\n head off his body.\n\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like a puppet \n with its strings cut.\n\n Nell, Marrow and Theo stand there. Not sure of what just happened,\n their minds unable to accept it.\n\n A sound comes up in Theo's throat. A sob. A horrified whimper. \n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \n obvious will make it","getting any closer than ten feet, and he's \n looking back at the gas tank.\n\n Luke gets the seatbelt off, tries to open the door but it's warped\n shut. He struggles to get out from behind the wheel. Sparks jump \n from the battery. Gas shoots out of the fuel pump onto the \n shattered window. He knows he's in trouble.\n\n THEO\n Hurry. The gas! Luke... The gas!\n\n Finally Luke gets free of the wheel"," Crain)\n No! No! Let them go!\n\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to prevent it. Luke\n stands up, has time to give her a look.\n\n And then the LION'S HEAD FLUE drops open behind him. Luke looks \n back into its iron eyes --\n\n -- and with SHOCKING SPEED the FLUE snaps shut again, taking Luke's\n head off his body.\n\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like","ified whimper. \n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \n obvious will make it real:\n\n MARROW\n Luke.\n\n BANG. The blood-splattered LION'S HEAD drops open. Luke's head \n falls out.\n\n Theo SCREAMS and SCREAMS again. Nell backs away with Marrow, almost\n has the presence of mind to drag them away, but --\n\n -- CLANG! The A","of the room. They stare at him, appalled, afraid. Knowing \n he has done something wrong.\n\n Luke stops. Maybe fifteen feet away. He sees their expressions.\n\n LUKE\n What?\n\n Nell looks over at the burning tapestries. Heat sears the stone,\n blackens the carved figures in the woodwork.\n\n The ruddy light casts deep shadows throughout the room.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n We'll get out after this","crawls out onto the trunk.\n\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\n\n Marrow hurries around the back of the car, staying clear of the lake\n of gas spreading about it. Luke rolls off. Marrow helps him up, \n and gets him away a safe distance.\n\n LUKE\n I'm okay. Okay. Just my chest. \n Just my wind knocked out.\n\n Marrow looks up at the gate. It is even more impassible than before\n with the","\n\n Luke grimaces, shifts into low, pours on the gas.\n\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\n\n The car fishes back and forth against the gate, hurling a shower of\n gravel on the other cars off to the side of the road. Marrow, Nell \n and Theo move back.\n\n One of the Buick's headlights breaks. The grill mashes in. For a \n long moment the car struggles against the Gate. No good. Luke \n eases","of cloth fall to the floor and go out, there is \n utter silence.\n\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\n\n Luke looks at them helplessly. An awful, impending beat. Without\n warning, the huge PERSIAN CARPET he's standing on JERKS out from \n under him. Luke falls on his stomach.\n\n Stunned, Luke looks straight into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth","men watch the car drive away.\n\n LUKE\n That could have been worse.\n\n MARROW\n Yeah.\n\n As they turn back, Marrow taps Luke.\n\n MARROW\n Luke, can I talk to you?\n\n LUKE\n Sure.\n\n MARROW\n Because... well, I know I can \n trust you.\n\n LUKE\n Why?\n\n MARROW\n I'","her, and she lands sitting. Theo and \n Marrow get to her side fast.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n -- he didn't kill her she killed \n him and ran away with her baby --\n\n Marrow grabs her face. It's gray, her eyes glazing over.\n\n MARROW\n Get a blanket!\n\n THEO\n It's okay... we're all here...\n\n Luke races out. Theo, scared, looks","runs over \n to help him and shoves the tire iron between the doors and PRIES. \n Marrow throws the useless thing down and stands back.\n\n Luke joins him, and they shoulder block it together. But this door \n is MASSIVE. There's no way.\n\n LUKE\n No you bastard! Break!\n\n He roundhouse kicks it, hurts himself.\n\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \n hand on her"," lasts a few heartbeats.\n\n He looks away. A flicker of distress crosses Nell's face. And then \n she realizes Marrow is looking at --\n\n -- Luke.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n You have to see something.\n\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - DAY\n\n Luke, Nell and Marrow mount the stairs, climb up and up. They find\n Theo in the mezzanine staring at the wall at the painting. ","\n\n THEO\n Hurry. The gas! Luke... The gas!\n\n Finally Luke gets free of the wheel. It's agonizing to watch... \n The passenger door is jammed shut too.\n\n He squirms into the back seat. The rear doors are in the same\n condition as the front. But the rear window is blown out. He \n crawls out onto the trunk.\n\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\n\n Marrow hurries around the back of the","dy light casts deep shadows throughout the room.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n We'll get out after this wing \n burns down. Let's go.\n\n But there's no need. The tapestries are consuming themselves too \n fast to ignite the walls or ceiling. They all realize it. As the \n last flaming scraps of cloth fall to the floor and go out, there is \n utter silence.\n\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\n",", he LIGHTS a towering TAPESTRY on fire.\n\n He races from one to the next, lighting them. Theo and Nell help\n Marrow up, back away as Luke shoots by.\n\n All the tapestries are ON FIRE, blazing up like torches.\n\n At last, his rage spent, heaving, he moves to join the others at the\n center of the room. They stare at him, appalled, afraid. Knowing \n he has done something wrong.\n\n Luke stops","\n The lock slides open. The door swings in. Luke stands there, the \n two women behind him.\n\n Luke turns on the lights. The room is perfectly ordinary, no sign \n that anything has been in here. The door to the hall is shut. Nell \n reacts.\n\n INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT\n\n Nell and Theo, wrapped in blankets, sit over mugs of tea at the\n kitchen table. Marrow, across from them, clicks off his digital\n "," be together, with Nell.\n\n And they go. Three scared people.\n\n INT. NELL'S BATHROOM - NIGHT\n\n Luke sits on the closed toilet and watches Nell in the adjoining \n room. Light from the bathroom falls across her fetal, curled form \n in the bed.\n\n The door to Theo's room is open too. Luke glances over. Theo lies \n on her bed. Marrow is slouched in a chair.\n\n Luke"," Luke glances over. Theo lies \n on her bed. Marrow is slouched in a chair.\n\n Luke settles back against the wall.\n\n The HOUSE EXHALES, and the breath of the house is like the poppy \n field in the Wizard of OZ; it brings on sleep.\n\n INT. THEO'S ROOM - MUCH LATER THAT NIGHT\n\n Marrow is struggling to stay awake and his eyes finally close. Theo\n breathes hard in the grips of some","\n\n INT. NELL'S BATHROOM - NIGHT\n\n Marrow lunges into the bathroom, thrown from sleep as Luke stares in\n impotent shock. Theo is there behind Marrow an instant later.\n\n MARROW\n What is it?\n\n Luke can't make any words come out. Marrow shoves him aside, grabs \n the doorknob and thrashes at it.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Help me!\n\n He br","around the edges. Luke is on her side of the car.\n\n LUKE\n Keep your head back, that's it.\n\n Todd opens his door. Marrow hands him a key.\n\n MARROW\n Here's my key to the gate. Call \n me the second you know anything.\n\n Todd takes it, jumps in. The two men watch the car drive away.\n\n LUKE\n That could have been worse.\n\n MARROW\n "],[" NELL\n After Rene... after she killed \n herself... he turned into a \n monster. He did fill the house \n with children... he did, but... \n they weren't laughing...\n\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \n a padded bench on one side of the room.\n\n THEO\n Nell, what happened?\n\n NELL\n Carolyn showed me where she hid ","jolting Nell. She stops and stares. \n Outside the window, through the glass, she sees Mr. Dudley, staring \n at her, he's been watching her dance. The spell is broken. Nell, \n embarrassed, can't bear to look at him.\n\n A beat, and then Marrow goes over and shuts the door. When he turns\n back --\n\n -- Nell is just vanishing around the corner, her rapid footsteps\n echoing in the vaulted room.\n\n ",". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'","bed, furniture, all in blue purple. An open \n door gives a glimpse of a bathroom.\n\n A large fireplace dominates one wall. Its mantle is carved with \n the faces of children, happy, at play, alive. Nell touches the \n wood, loving.\n\n NELL\n They're so beautiful. Aren't \n they?\n\n MRS. DUDLEY\n I've seen 'em. Lot to dust.\n\n NELL\n","about the \n house?\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you.\n\n Grinning, Dudley steps aside and Nell rolls through. And at that \n he just grins wider. Nell pulls away. Disturbed, she watches him \n in the rearview mirror. She turns and in front of her sprawls Hill \n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \n dwarf all others: towering, eye-","t notice. But Nell feels it in the soul. \n Richie stops. A long beat. He looks at her, insolent, then plows \n on with his tank.\n\n JANE\n Nell. A job? Two months and\n where is this job? You have no\n degree, you've never worked --\n\n Nell explodes in outraged fury, startling us.\n\n NELL\n -- I've never worked? --\n\n "," NELL\n You can call me Nell, Dr. Marrow.\n\n MARROW\n Nell. Good enough. And I'm Jim.\n\n NELL\n I'm really... honored to be part \n of this study, Jim.\n\n MARROW\n Well... we're glad to have you.\n\n His smile is devastating. Nell reddens, instantly taken by Marrow's\n warmth, observant sensitivity. <u>Theo not"," NELL (cont'd)\n No...\n\n But the substance doesn't come from the ceiling.\n\n It is as if the oils on the PAINTING OF HUGH CRAIN have been boiled \n by a heat gun and blasted off, running down from there. Hugh's face \n is gone. In place of the face, the underlying ivory of the canvas \n glares out... like a skull.\n\n Nell SCREAMS and runs away, the others calling out after her in ","\n\n Nell lies in her bed asleep, the room dark except for the last,\n guttering end of one of the candles. It goes out.\n\n A FAINT SOUND. LONG, LOW, like the inarticulate murmur of a dozen\n madmen. Nell stirs. Her eyes open. She hears the sound.\n\n The wall on the opposite side of the room catches the pale gloom \n from the window. The twisting figures in the plaster, the low-\n relief","that's where he burned \n them up, the child laborers from \n his mills! Because that's where \n their bones are! He killed\n <i>hundreds</i>. He took them here and\n he killed them. Their bones are \n in the fireplace!\n\n Nell sobs. The others exchange looks at this. It sounds so hollow, \n so delusional, it makes Marrow look so right.\n\n MARROW\n ","here:\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n A father's joy unjustly snatch'd \n by a jealous God...\n\n Nell is shaken, and dreading what she will find next, whirls to the\n one behind her: WENDY CRAIN JANUARY 1 , 1880 -- She clears it away \n -- January 1, 1880. And its graven commandment, so familiar, so\n comforting, now rings with terrible, malev","s for \n soldiers, that's for the women \n that the bullfighters fall in love \n with. And here I am, and \n something is happening to me. \n Strange noises in the night. \n Paintings are calling to me. And \n all it cost to get there was five \n gallons of gas. I'm getting my \n adventure.\n\n For the first time since we've seen Nell, there is something to","ists a very heavy bag off on Mrs. Dudley who looks like she's\n been handed a snake. That makes Nell smile. She comes running down \n to help with the bags.\n\n NELL\n I'm Eleanor but everyone calls me \n Nell. Eleanor Vance. Nell. I'm \n really glad you're here. Really.\n\n Theo is a little thrown by Nell's gushing.\n\n NELL (cont'd","tries to see what else is in here \n in the dark, she begins to make out WHITE SHROUDED SHAPES.\n\n Against the wall. A bed covered in a sheet. A table beside it. A \n HAND BELL. A CANE.\n\n <u>Just like Nell's sick room at home</u>. Nell realizes it, covers her\n mouth.\n\n The furniture is in EXACTLY the same position, though the sheets\n covering the pieces are stained, FAR OLD","SECOND, A SHADOW IN THE CHAIR. Nell steps in front \n of it, blocking our view.\n\n And when she steps past, there is only the dim, flaking image of the\n chair, the natural shadow of the room.\n\n Nell goes around the desk, stands over it. The chair sits silent\n behind her, shrouded.\n\n On the desk sits a set of ledgers marked with mill names -- Lowell,\n Haverhill, Manchester -- and years: 1884, '8","you think I did that. I \n didn't! Go to the great hall and \n look in the fireplace!\n\n She starts to laugh. Marrow gently presses Nell down, tucking the\n blanket around her.\n\n MARROW\n Why would we want to do that, \n Nell?\n\n NELL\n Because that's where he burned \n them up, the child laborers from \n his mills! Because that's where","ene, and a house \n filled with children.\n\n NELL\n All the carvings.\n\n MARROW\n But there's a sad catch to the \n story.\n\n MARY\n What happened?\n\n MARROW\n There were no children. Rene \n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts","You know that, Nell.\n\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \n so ugly if it were true.\n\n NELL\n I don't know anything. Whoever \n did this, please, just... just say \n so... just... please... this is \n cruel. Don't be cruel to me. I \n can't stand it. You don't know \n me.\n\n And she runs out.\n","HELIX STAIRCASE which rises from the floor to a platform \n which gives access to the roof. Below the staircase are planters \n filled with violets.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n Violets. Somebody must've died \n here.\n\n And then, out of the corners, comes Mister Dudley.\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n That's where she hanged herself.\n\n NELL\n Who?\n\n "," exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \n and they all look down in fear toward the great hall where a cloud \n of ashes still hangs in the air.\n\n Unseen by them, this rumble start to shake the painting behind them.\n The sound from the great hall makes Marrow and Theo back up more, \n but Nell doesn't move... she senses something is about to happen and \n she will fight it...\n\n She suddenly turns and sees the painting... in a flash she"],["Ph.D. in psychic studies.\n\n MARROW\n And after she was thrown out, she \n needed a job.\n\n MALCOLM\n You don't believe in the \n paranormal.\n\n MARROW\n No, but she does, and that's all \n that matters.\n\n MALCOLM\n Does she know that's why you're \n using her?\n\n MARROW\n No"," NELL\n You can call me Nell, Dr. Marrow.\n\n MARROW\n Nell. Good enough. And I'm Jim.\n\n NELL\n I'm really... honored to be part \n of this study, Jim.\n\n MARROW\n Well... we're glad to have you.\n\n His smile is devastating. Nell reddens, instantly taken by Marrow's\n warmth, observant sensitivity. <u>Theo not","inations. You brought us \n here to scare us. Insomnia, that \n was just a decoy issue. You're \n disgusting.\n\n NELL\n Is this true? I've been \n hypnotized?\n\n MARROW\n I hadn't done a study of how group \n fear affects individual \n performance. Mass hysteria is \n like a story, Nell. A communal \n ","Marrow is the cold, analytical tone, his \n garbled jargon.\n\n MARROW (OC)\n One minute!\n\n It's Marrow, for real, about to enter. Nell clicks off the \n recorder, drops it into the briefcase. Marrow is startled, not \n expecting Nell to be sitting right next to his papers and briefcase.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Nell.\n\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead","about this.\n\n MARROW\n Hmm.\n\n NELL\n I'm sorry. I'm messing up the \n study.\n\n MARROW\n No you're not. Something moved \n you. You saw something.\n\n Nell looks to him. He's sincere. He believes her.\n\n NELL\n I don't know. Maybe I...\n\n \"Didn't\" she almost says. ","works in a group...\n\n MALCOLM\n Not the way you've constructed \n your group, it's just not ethical!\n\n MARROW\n But if the group knows it's being \n studied as a group, you \n contaminate the results. The \n deception is minor.\n\n Malcolm sees Mary Lambretta.\n\n MALCOLM\n Are you working with her?\n\n MARROW\n Mary, I","have to hear me. Let me \n explain what's happening to you.\n (beat)\n You're participating in a study on \n hysteria.\n\n Everyone but Marrow REACTS.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n I've given you a powerful \n suggestion that you're in a \n haunted house. I picked Hill \n House because it fits the \n expectations. It was my... it was \n my","case.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Nell.\n\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead. Marrow looks from her to the\n briefcase and back.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Were you looking for me?\n\n Nell can't answer. Marrow comes over, unsettled.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n How are the tests going?\n\n Nell rises, staring, emotionless. Betrayal just","\n with the stipulation that it never \n be altered or sold. Crain's \n executors made good investments \n and for the last hundred and \n twenty years, Hill House has taken \n care of itself.\n\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\n\n TODD\n So what's this study all about \n anyway? Mary described","a.\n\n MALCOLM\n Are you working with her?\n\n MARROW\n Mary, I'll meet you outside.\n\n She understands, and she closes the door.\n\n MALCOLM\n Why are you working with her? \n Mary Lambretta was thrown out of \n the department for trying to get a \n Ph.D. in psychic studies.\n\n MARROW\n And after she was thrown out, she \n needed","hostile man \n does not believe in Madame Velka.\n\n This relieves the pressure. Malcolm is not listening anymore and\n storms off.\n\n MARY\n You know what he's really upset \n about?\n\n MARROW\n What?\n\n MARY\n You're going to publish, he's \n going to perish... And why did you \n hire me for this?\n\n Marrow has a sly smile. They go"," Whatever else she's \n wearing, she wears glasses. Marrow, seeing her, motions for her to \n go away. He doesn't break eye contact with Malcolm. Mary \n hesitates...\n\n MARROW\n Malcolm, this is essential work \n I'm doing. Just think what my \n research can do for education. \n Elementary school classrooms near \n train tracks or airports, where \n loud noise is random; this helps"," it again.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Look, look at what it does! The \n subjects on the left, because they \n anticipate the shocks, make the \n adjustment, and lose nothing on \n their scores. The subjects on the \n right, because the shocks are \n random, can't anticipate, and the \n distraction throws them off.\n\n MALCOLM\n Stop defending your science after \n","\n the extent of her self-delusion \n was inconclusive due to her \n efforts to sexualize encounter \n with experimenter.\n\n Marrow's voice continues on in his assessment, but Nell isn't \n hearing anything anymore.\n\n She dies inside. Her world upside down. She falls into a chair, \n and all we can hear of Marrow is the cold, analytical tone, his \n garbled jargon.\n\n MARROW (OC)\n "," he says it's about one thing, a \n psychological profile of \n environmental effects on \n insomnia... and that'd be a \n legitimate study, but I think that \n we've been subjected to an \n academic bait and switch; he's \n really looking at something else.\n\n NELL\n No. No... Jim's not doing -- \n these things.\n\n But there's a desperate, rising edge to Nell'"," Maybe you did it yourself.\n\n NELL\n Why?\n\n THEO\n I don't know. You've been alone \n for a long time, maybe you want \n attention.\n (pointing to \n Marrow)\n Maybe he did it...\n\n MARROW\n I didn't. You know that, Nell.\n\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \n so ugly if"," MARROW\n The cold sensation. Who felt it \n first?\n\n NELL\n Theo I think. You've asked us \n that three times, Doctor Marrow. \n What's going on?\n\n MARROW\n How do you feel about Luke's \n suggestion that it was just the \n old plumbing? Water hammer, \n something like that?\n\n Theo and Nell look at each other in frustration. "," on the stairs. Theo touches her. She starts.\n\n THEO\n Nell, it was an accident.\n\n INT. MARROW'S BEDROOM (PART OF CONFUSING ROOMS) - NIGHT\n\n Marrow, sitting at a desk, speaks into a digital voice recorder. \n His voice is cold, analytical.\n\n MARROW\n Icebreaker exercise conducted over \n dinner. Observed initial bonding \n among subjects and experimenter.","the presence of something.\n\n TODD\n So what's this study all about \n anyway? Mary described the kind \n of tests we'll be doing, but \n didn't fill us in on the big \n picture. She said you needed bad \n sleepers, but this wasn't about \n curing the problem.\n\n MARY\n I can tell you what this is about.\n\n MARROW\n Eat first, questions later","M\n Does she know that's why you're \n using her?\n\n MARROW\n No.\n\n MALCOLM\n I, I just can't...\n\n MARROW\n She needed a job, Malcolm. And \n she's smart. And she helps me.\n\n MALCOLM\n I have a bad feeling about what \n you're doing.\n\n MARROW\n This is the last"],["ene, and a house \n filled with children.\n\n NELL\n All the carvings.\n\n MARROW\n But there's a sad catch to the \n story.\n\n MARY\n What happened?\n\n MARROW\n There were no children. Rene \n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts","> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts, looks at the house with a strange feeling.\n\n NELL\n That's so sad.\n\n This has been tense between them, a gunfight. POP! A LOG in the\n fireplace makes everyone jump. Theo relishes it, but Nell shudders.\n\n MARY\n I think there's more to the story. \n This house","s face \n is the faintest, most inappropriate SMILE. It sends a chill through \n Nell.\n\n The album begins to slide down the shelf, and as it does, PAGES \n FLIP, Rene's SMILE grows wider, her hair dishevelled, her eyes lit \n with grinning insanity...\n\n Nell grabs the book just as it falls from the shelf.\n\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \n ","Crain \n had children chained to the looms \n in his mill. And listen to this: \n his beautiful Rene killed herself.\n\n THEO\n And why didn't Marrow tell <u>us</u>?\n Doesn't he trust women? That \n fuck.\n\n NELL\n (she's thinking \n about the story, \n not Marrow)\n A monster? But he built this for \n ","ALBUM of the late\n nineteenth century, bound with ribbons, the aged Daguerreotypes in\n pressed vellum frames.\n\n Nell peers closer. It's open to a faded, gray image taken long \n before it became the convention to smile for a photograph: a woman, \n RENE CRAIN, sitting in a chair.\n\n And standing behind the chair, a fearsome presence in a black coat,\n his face hollow, malevolent. HUGH CRAIN.\n\n Nell","just as it falls from the shelf.\n\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \n the enormous fireplace in the Great Hall. RENE IS GONE. The photo \n is monstrous. Nell, fearful, turns the page --\n\n -- and REACTS to the last thing she expected. A picture of a lovely\n woman filled with grace and power. CAROLYN CRAIN. Posed. On a \n settee before the fireplace. ","the mezzanine. The\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\n behind.\n\n LUKE\n He said that Hugh Crain... Hugh \n Crain was a monster. He said that \n he was a brutal, horrible man. He \n told me that Crain drove his \n workers to early deaths. Crain \n had children chained to the looms \n in his mill. And listen to this: \n "," looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\n\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\n\n NELL\n Finally.\n\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\n\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is","-- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is only from up here on the second \n floor with this curtain open that the FACE is visible in the late-\n day sunlight.\n\n Despite the artist's discretion, the lines in the man's skin, his\n eyes, his posture, cry of unspeakable sickness.\n\n Unconsciously, Nell takes a step back. In the far b.g., near the \n ",". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'","with a sheet, only its lion-head arm rests protruding from\n underneath. Nell realizes it's:\n\n NELL\n Crain's study.\n\n She moves for the desk. An ENORMOUS MIRROR, its silver inner \n surface flaking with age, tarnished, reflects the room, the desk, \n and FOR A SPLIT SECOND, A SHADOW IN THE CHAIR. Nell steps in front \n of it, blocking our view.\n\n"," NELL\n After Rene... after she killed \n herself... he turned into a \n monster. He did fill the house \n with children... he did, but... \n they weren't laughing...\n\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \n a padded bench on one side of the room.\n\n THEO\n Nell, what happened?\n\n NELL\n Carolyn showed me where she hid ","sliver of sunlight showing \n through. As her eyes adjust, she makes out the furnishings of a \n late-nineteenth century office, Crain's secret office.\n\n The bookcases filled with business ledgers. The business ledgers \n are stamped with the cherub of death.\n\n At the end is an enormous desk. Behind it a massive, carved chair\n covered with a sheet, only its lion-head arm rests protruding from\n underneath. Nell realizes it's:\n\n "," died... How did you die?\n\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\n\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \n see the book.\n\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\n\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is",", panting... There \n is nothing in the room. No Theo. She looks at her hand.\n\n The eye on the wall is gone.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n Oh, God. Who was holding my hand?\n\n Nell snaps around. There on the window, SPREADING before her eyes \n the frost on the glass is melting into a HORRIFYING FACE. The face \n of CRAIN.\n\n Nell recoils in prick","crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \n that we can't see.\n\n MARY\n What's this?\n (has to get his\n attention)\n What's this... this picture?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where","Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'S SECRET STUDY - DAY\n\n Nell sits in silence, trying to find a feeling, any feeling. A long\n beat. And without warning she leaps to her feet in SHOCKING rage.\n\n NELL\n How can he think I'm doing this!\n\n She has a floor lamp in her hands, and hurls it like a throwing \n hammer at the","lullaby I guess. \n My mother used to hum it to me. \n And her mother before that, and so \n on.\n (to the statue)\n Hugh Crain, would you care to \n dance?\n\n She hums another two notes, and BANG! The door behind her SLAMS \n OPEN in a gust of wind, jolting Nell. She stops and stares. \n Outside the window, through the glass, she sees Mr. Dudley,","with grace and power. CAROLYN CRAIN. Posed. On a \n settee before the fireplace. Beautiful beyond words. Smiling. \n Ahead of her time.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n His second wife. There was a \n second wife? Carolyn.\n\n It warms Nell.\n\n She turns the page. Now Crain is there beside Carolyn. But there \n is something different about him. Less frightening.\n\n","paint cleaner an a ladder. Nell stops, watching him. He senses \n her, pauses, and smiles.\n\n Nell reacts. Sees the ladder. Then Mr. Dudley disappears into the\n House.\n\n Nell once again starts to hurry away, but looking back over her\n shoulder, almost impales herself on the rusted iron fence of --\n\n EXT. FAMILY CEMETERY - DAY (CONTINUOUS)\n\n -- the tiny Crain family cemetery. "],["of\n immense stone pillars. Between them, a steel GATE as high as the \n wall, chained and padlocked.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATE - DAY\n\n The gate stands immense. Silent. Forbidding. Beyond them a \n gravel drive curves away through the trees. Nell kills her car, \n gets out, instructions in hand. No one in sight. A long beat. \n She reaches in and blows the HORN.\n\n The HORN","Hill \n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \n dwarf all others: towering, eye-like windows and the jaws of a \n Grand Entry with carved ebony doors.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY - DAY\n\n The car rumbles up the drive toward the carport.\n\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\n\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \n carport. In the silence all we can hear","In the night...\n\n The DOOR BAMS SHUT with a concussion that rocks the entire room,\n sweeping Luke's jacket under it. The HANDLES TURN, LOCK DOWN.\n\n Stunned. All stunned.\n\n A RUSH OF AIR. The House EXHALES. Silence. And then CREEEEAK. \n They cast their eyes back up the stairs.\n\n BUMP BUMP. Far-off sounds, hair-raising, of infinite variety, carry\n down","What is \n it about fences? Sometimes a \n locked chain makes people on both \n sides of the fence just a little \n more comfortable. Why would that \n be?\n\n He unwinds the enormous chain, heavy turn after heavy turn. The \n gates swing in, revealing HILL HOUSE.\n\n NELL\n Is there something about the \n house?\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you","hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \n FACES engraved in the wood all seem to be peering up at her, hands\n outstretched for her, hopeful.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATES - NIGHT\n\n The enormous LOCKED gates are silhouetted against the moonlit sky. \n The chain is dangling in the wind.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the","slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\n\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \n outside, distorted in the old glass.\n\n MARROW\n Someone is playing with you.\n\n NELL\n Why?\n\n MARROW\n I don't know.\n\n NELL\n It doesn't matter. Even if ","HALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\n\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\n\n EXT. GATE - DA"," At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\n\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \n if the House itself is breathing.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still ","\n with the stipulation that it never \n be altered or sold. Crain's \n executors made good investments \n and for the last hundred and \n twenty years, Hill House has taken \n care of itself.\n\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\n\n TODD\n So what's this study all about \n anyway? Mary described","UDLEY\n The Purple Room. You're going to \n be the first visitors that Hill \n House has had since Mister Crain \n died.\n\n The room is spacious, in a rococo gothic style with low-relief\n woodwork on the walls rising to a dark, coffered, ceiling of carved\n ivory. A king-size bed, furniture, all in blue purple. An open \n door gives a glimpse of a bathroom.\n\n A large fireplace dominates"," with you in person was the night \n we met here.\n\n NELL\n Then who called me?\n\n Hill House looms behind her, windows forming eyes, the carport a\n gaping mouth.\n\n Nell's dismay becomes a cold, terrifying understanding, and she \n turns and stares back up at the House.\n\n Luke comes up with Theo on the other side of the car.\n\n THEO\n Nell --\n\n LUKE\n -- how much"," We can't hide in here! We won't \n make it til morning.\n\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\n\n NELL\n I know.\n\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \n and they all look down in fear toward the great","o softly moans over Nell.\n\n And as the camera pans up across the entry door, we see a new \n carving in the sculpted doors. It is a woman and as we move in we \n can see that she wears the same necklace as Nell...\n\n INT. HILL HOUSE FRONT DOORS, ENTRY - EARLY MORNING\n\n The HOUSE INHALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT","about the \n house?\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you.\n\n Grinning, Dudley steps aside and Nell rolls through. And at that \n he just grins wider. Nell pulls away. Disturbed, she watches him \n in the rearview mirror. She turns and in front of her sprawls Hill \n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \n dwarf all others: towering, eye-","cont'd)\n Well, why don't we get some dinner \n while we're waiting for him?\n (beat, backing \n through the doors \n to the Great Hall)\n Welcome to Hill House, everyone.\n\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\n\n Marrow leads the way across the hall. The others check out the\n furnishings as they pass.\n\n TODD\n These old Victorian houses are \n great, aren't they?","crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \n that we can't see.\n\n MARY\n What's this?\n (has to get his\n attention)\n What's this... this picture?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where","?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where we're going?\n\n MARROW\n Yes. It's perfect, isn't it?\n\n Mary studies the picture, and she can't answer him. In her \n glasses, we get the thinnest reflection of the photograph, a \n glimpse of dark brick and high chimneys.\n\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\n\n Nell,","Even now, Marrow can't believe what he just saw, but Theo's voice\n brings him back. He whirls, grabs onto Nell, helps Theo drag her \n out.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY/GATE - NIGHT\n\n Four cars sit behind the massive, locked gate, as far from Hill \n House as possible. Marrow paces past the fence, staring out, the \n road beyond leading out of this place, so close...\n\n Luke digs with a pen knife","\n ever darker. The House's hellish carvings glare as she passes, \n grinning, taunting. She rages on, oblivious until she rounds a \n final corner --\n\n INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE LOCKED ROOM - NIGHT\n\n -- into the long, dark hall leading to the LOCKED ROOM. The \n STATUARY peer down on her. Dead faces. Blind marble eyes. As she \n turns, the heads and eyes turn imperceptibly","d)\n No, no, you leave them alone!\n\n And the griffin turns back into brass. Marrow and Theo unaware of \n what happened behind them. They have to get out of there.\n\n INT. SECOND FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT\n\n Nell leads Marrow and Theo down the dark hallway, the twisted \n woodwork along the walls frozen, but seeming poised to reach out, \n trip someone, grab a sleeve.\n\n It is a nightmare House. Doing"],[" looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\n\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\n\n NELL\n Finally.\n\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\n\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is","-- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is only from up here on the second \n floor with this curtain open that the FACE is visible in the late-\n day sunlight.\n\n Despite the artist's discretion, the lines in the man's skin, his\n eyes, his posture, cry of unspeakable sickness.\n\n Unconsciously, Nell takes a step back. In the far b.g., near the \n ","the mezzanine. The\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\n behind.\n\n LUKE\n He said that Hugh Crain... Hugh \n Crain was a monster. He said that \n he was a brutal, horrible man. He \n told me that Crain drove his \n workers to early deaths. Crain \n had children chained to the looms \n in his mill. And listen to this: \n ","the \n house, and about Hugh Crain... but \n I'm asking you not to repeat it.\n\n LUKE\n I can keep a secret.\n\n They go in. The house is outlined by the sky and clouds and the \n moon.\n\n INT. MEZZANINE - NIGHT\n\n Luke catches up with Nell and Theo as he reaches the mezzanine. The\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\n behind.\n\n ","> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts, looks at the house with a strange feeling.\n\n NELL\n That's so sad.\n\n This has been tense between them, a gunfight. POP! A LOG in the\n fireplace makes everyone jump. Theo relishes it, but Nell shudders.\n\n MARY\n I think there's more to the story. \n This house","The children Hugh \n Crain built the house for. The \n children he never had.\n\n LUKE\n Come on. These are the typically \n sentimental gestures of a depraved \n industrialist.\n\n He puts his hand on a CHAIR, the back of which is heavily carved in\n the motif he just described.\n\n Nell turns him an appalled look.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n Theo was working in the dining "," We can't hide in here! We won't \n make it til morning.\n\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\n\n NELL\n I know.\n\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \n and they all look down in fear toward the great","ALBUM of the late\n nineteenth century, bound with ribbons, the aged Daguerreotypes in\n pressed vellum frames.\n\n Nell peers closer. It's open to a faded, gray image taken long \n before it became the convention to smile for a photograph: a woman, \n RENE CRAIN, sitting in a chair.\n\n And standing behind the chair, a fearsome presence in a black coat,\n his face hollow, malevolent. HUGH CRAIN.\n\n Nell","ORMOUS OIL PAINTING. In it stands a man, his features lost in \n the shadows above, only his body visible.\n\n The nameplate reads HUGH CRAIN.\n\n NELL\n Hugh Crain.\n\n Nell looks up: Mrs. Dudley waits coldly at the top of the stairs.\n\n INT. 2ND FLOOR HALLWAY, NORTH WING - DAY\n\n Mrs. Dudley leads Nell down a curved hallway, over aged Persian","LOR - DUSK\n\n Nell and Theo enter a room just off the landing, a lavish parlor \n with the omnipresent panelled walls, lush red carpet, velvet \n curtains sweeping floor to ceiling, heavy pieces of furniture. Nell \n watches Theo explore. As Theo moves through the room, Nell's eye \n lands on another painting of Hugh Crain. Inside it's ornate golden \n framework, distinctive little cherubs are embedded. Cherubs of \n","Hugh Crain. Inside it's ornate golden \n framework, distinctive little cherubs are embedded. Cherubs of \n Death... She runs her fingers over it.\n\n THEO\n Maybe you shouldn't touch --\n\n Theo twirls out of the room, Nell, anxious, behind her.\n\n INT. MEZZANINE - DUSK\n\n As they come out of Crain's study Theo stops at the top of the \n stairs, Nell behind her.\n\n THE","ene, and a house \n filled with children.\n\n NELL\n All the carvings.\n\n MARROW\n But there's a sad catch to the \n story.\n\n MARY\n What happened?\n\n MARROW\n There were no children. Rene \n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts","a fearsome presence in a black coat,\n his face hollow, malevolent. HUGH CRAIN.\n\n Nell shivers, and SLIP, the page turns on its own.\n\n An image of Hugh and Rene, a look of deathly loss on their faces. \n The page flips.\n\n Crain hovers, dark, rage just under the surface, but on Rene's face \n is the faintest, most inappropriate SMILE. It sends a chill through \n Nell.\n"," died... How did you die?\n\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\n\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \n see the book.\n\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\n\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is"," Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\n\n NELL\n Hugh Crain. He's in the house. \n He's still here...\n\n Theo pulls back, goes very still. The first hint of fear in her \n eyes.\n\n THEO\n No.\n\n Marrow sees the panic working on her, gives her a stern look:\n\n MARROW\n Theo! You too. Listen to me.\n\n The command der","s face \n is the faintest, most inappropriate SMILE. It sends a chill through \n Nell.\n\n The album begins to slide down the shelf, and as it does, PAGES \n FLIP, Rene's SMILE grows wider, her hair dishevelled, her eyes lit \n with grinning insanity...\n\n Nell grabs the book just as it falls from the shelf.\n\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \n "," here... and he won't let go of \n them!\n\n Marrow grabs her face.\n\n MARROW\n Nell!\n\n Luke rushes in with a blanket. Theo covers Nell and then holds her,\n gently.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Look at me, Nell. Look at me!\n\n Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\n\n NELL\n Hugh Crain. He's"," They sit there in the darkness, panting.\n\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NEXT DAY\n\n Nell stares at the tableaux of Hugh Crain. In the morning light it\n seems inert, cold, just a statue. Luke and Theo enter. Nell \n doesn't seem to notice them until they're beside her.\n\n THEO\n Marrow said the same thing as last \n night, he <u>says</u> --\n (meaning, this is"," Dr. Marrow, what is this house?\n\n When she says this, we should be seeing her from an odd perspective,\n the house's POV.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n There was once a king who built a \n palace. The King's name was Hugh \n Crain. A hundred and thirty years \n ago, when the Merrimack Valley was \n the center of American industry, \n Hugh Crain made two hundred \n million","crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \n that we can't see.\n\n MARY\n What's this?\n (has to get his\n attention)\n What's this... this picture?\n\n MARROW\n That? That's Hill House.\n\n MARY\n This is where"],["\n Marrow, Theo and Luke, stricken silent by her entry. Looks of shock \n on their faces. Nell just stands there. A beat. And then it pours \n out of her, hysterical.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n He hunted all those children in \n here. The dead children, Josiah \n and Elizabeth and all of them... \n from the books... he took them up \n here... he played games... the \n ","1, 1880. And its graven commandment, so familiar, so\n comforting, now rings with terrible, malevolent promise:\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n Suffer the little children unto \n me.\n\n There are three more grave stones, and after clearing away the \n brush, they too show that the babies died after a few hours, or a \n day. There's the same symbol on the graves of the children, a \n cherub of death. We'"," Nell stares in drunken fascination. And as the first fear begins to\n rise in her throat, the wind dies down and in its place there is the\n FAINTEST TRACE OF CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER. Nell's reaction changes... \n to awe.\n\n Tentative, her hand goes out, shaking... and touches the mantle.\n\n It is hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \n FACES engraved in the wood all seem","you think I did that. I \n didn't! Go to the great hall and \n look in the fireplace!\n\n She starts to laugh. Marrow gently presses Nell down, tucking the\n blanket around her.\n\n MARROW\n Why would we want to do that, \n Nell?\n\n NELL\n Because that's where he burned \n them up, the child laborers from \n his mills! Because that's where",", eight or nine feet, featureless, black, but in the\n proportions of an enormous man with his head bowed, shoulders \n stooped. And just like that, all it is...\n\n ...is a well of darkness and night once again. We don't even know \n for sure what we just saw. But it is still there in that bar of \n shadow.\n\n Nell goes rigid, not breathing, not seeing anything but the awful\n presence. She is spellbound.\n\n BANG. A door","that's where he burned \n them up, the child laborers from \n his mills! Because that's where \n their bones are! He killed\n <i>hundreds</i>. He took them here and\n he killed them. Their bones are \n in the fireplace!\n\n Nell sobs. The others exchange looks at this. It sounds so hollow, \n so delusional, it makes Marrow look so right.\n\n MARROW\n ",", bare feet flying, covering her face\n from MIRRORS left and right. She stumbles into --\n\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)\n\n -- the greenhouse where she slips on the marble. She kicks the door\n shut behind her and lunges for the spiral staircase, her horror\n driving her up and up, setting the rickety thing swinging. We HEAR\n what Nell hears, the voices of children.\n\n VOICES OF CHILDRE","HALL - NIGHT\n\n CLOSE ON THE BRASS GRIFFINS that guard the staircase.\n\n Behind Nell's back they all turn toward her, follow her with their\n eyes as Nell enters the great hall. And they cower in fear for what \n is about to happen. Again Nell call's out for Theo and Marrow.\n\n And Nell doesn't see the scores of TINY ARMS OF CHILDREN that fold \n out from the carvings in the high backed chairs in the",", eyes trying to adjust, afraid. Behind them \n looms the fireplace and in front of it, a metal cage-like fire \n screen. A beat.\n\n BAM! SOMETHING LUNGES out of the fireplace but is caught in the\n screen, hitting Nell and Theo in the back.\n\n Theo's lighter goes flying in that very instant, and we never see\n what's hit the screen. Neither do they. Theo falls SCREAMING. \n Nell manages","the mezzanine. The\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\n behind.\n\n LUKE\n He said that Hugh Crain... Hugh \n Crain was a monster. He said that \n he was a brutal, horrible man. He \n told me that Crain drove his \n workers to early deaths. Crain \n had children chained to the looms \n in his mill. And listen to this: \n ","see the scores of TINY ARMS OF CHILDREN that fold \n out from the carvings in the high backed chairs in the hall as Nell\n carefully avoids stepping on the skulls and bones of the children \n that cover the floor.\n\n Horrifyingly alive are these TINY HANDS as reach out for her hair\n after she passes. We're screaming as they almost have her... and \n Nell steps away.\n\n And then... CREAK... CREAK... CREAK...\n\n ","- NURSERY - NIGHT\n\n Nell stands there in the darkness, sensing the expanse of the room,\n turning... and kicking something on the floor.\n\n It is a wooden toy train. Then she sees a rocking horse by her \n feet. It is a NURSERY. Turn-of-the-century.\n\n And as Nell's eyes adjust, as she tries to see what else is in here \n in the dark, she begins to make out WHITE SHROUDED SHAPES.\n\n","His eyes are closed, unaware\n his breath is fogging too.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Nell lies there afraid to move, afraid to make the faintest sound.\n From the darkness above WOOD CREAKS. At first it seems like someone \n is walking on the floor above. But it is coming from within the \n room.\n\n The CARVINGS on the ceiling, the impossibly elaborate woodwork, ARE\n MOVING. Incredibly slowly, with"," Oh, no... Oh... no... no, no... \n not that... Oh no... Ohhhhhhhhh!\n\n Gaping cold and stench hit her. She gags.\n\n Now the CRY comes from under the door. Present. Real. Right \n there. Nell shudders.\n\n The CRY grows louder, desperate. She shuts her ears to it. The CRY\n rises to fearsome rage, not sounding like a child anymore. Not\n sound","HALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\n\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\n\n EXT. GATE - DA","ene, and a house \n filled with children.\n\n NELL\n All the carvings.\n\n MARROW\n But there's a sad catch to the \n story.\n\n MARY\n What happened?\n\n MARROW\n There were no children. Rene \n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\n all of this, and then he died. \n His heart was broken.\n\n Nell shifts","\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is in Nell's lap.\n Nell sits on the bed in her sleeping tee-shirt and undies. Theo \n looks at the book with her.\n\n THEO\n That's so sad.\n\n NELL\n There's hundreds of them. This \n must be a record of the children \n who died at the mills, like Luke"," At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\n\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \n if the House itself is breathing.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still "," NELL\n After Rene... after she killed \n herself... he turned into a \n monster. He did fill the house \n with children... he did, but... \n they weren't laughing...\n\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \n a padded bench on one side of the room.\n\n THEO\n Nell, what happened?\n\n NELL\n Carolyn showed me where she hid ","red timber or two sticking out. Sick with fear, Nell prods the\n ash. Just charred wood.\n\n She thrusts the poker down deep. It vanishes in the ash up to her\n hand. CLACK. She rakes through the ash. CLACK. And then she \n feels the poker take purchase. She draws it out, and full of dread \n turns it to the light...\n\n Impaled on its hooks are TWO HUMAN SKULLS.\n\n Nell fights back the"],["others stand there speechless.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n I have to stay. You better go. I \n could explain it, but you'd never \n understand.\n\n And that, finally, galvanizes the others into action. Marrow sweeps\n past Theo, grabs Nell hard, and swings her for the door.\n\n MARROW\n Come on.\n\n NELL\n No --\n\n THEO\n Please, N","You know that, Nell.\n\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \n so ugly if it were true.\n\n NELL\n I don't know anything. Whoever \n did this, please, just... just say \n so... just... please... this is \n cruel. Don't be cruel to me. I \n can't stand it. You don't know \n me.\n\n And she runs out.\n",". It goes out of focus and we can't see it as we\n follow --\n\n -- NELL flying away, across the room in headlong terror.\n\n INT. FOYER - DAY\n\n Nell slams out of the room, skidding as the door slams behind her. \n She sways up off the floor to run --\n\n -- right into Marrow and Theo's legs. Nell aborts a scream, \n realizing who it is. Theo stands there in surprise, holding papers \n in","Other doors lead off the room. Nell\n follows.\n\n THEO\n This is a serious question, but do \n you think the Dudleys ever make \n love in this room? They're alone \n in the house, no one watching. No \n one... no one watching. You can \n do what you want.\n\n Theo goes running for another door and is out.\n\n Nell, realizing she's being left behind, springs after her into ","with her into infinity. Theo dances after her. They dance, not \n quite together. Nell stops and pronounces:\n\n NELL\n I love this house. I really love \n this house.\n\n THEO\n (gently, recognizes \n that Nell is \n different)\n You're okay.\n\n Nell blushes... and they burst out laughing. They take off running,\n their reflections with them, stampeding for an","wouldn't you be \n leaving right this second? Why \n wouldn't you be afraid? Really \n afraid.\n\n NELL\n Because I don't want to ruin \n things. Because home is where the \n heart is.\n\n Theo is chilled by this answer which would only make sense to \n someone out of her mind.\n\n Nell looks up and sees the double staircase at the end of the\n greenhouse... the one where Crain's wife","Mrs. Dudley lays Theo's suitcase on a luggage stand.\n\n MRS. DUDLEY\n Breakfast is at nine. I don't \n stay after dinner. Not after it \n begins to get dark.\n\n Theo, back to Mrs. Dudley, rolls her eyes at Nell.\n\n MRS. DUDLEY (cont'd)\n I leave, before dark. So there \n won't be anyone around if you need"," Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\n\n NELL\n Hugh Crain. He's in the house. \n He's still here...\n\n Theo pulls back, goes very still. The first hint of fear in her \n eyes.\n\n THEO\n No.\n\n Marrow sees the panic working on her, gives her a stern look:\n\n MARROW\n Theo! You too. Listen to me.\n\n The command der"," NELL\n After Rene... after she killed \n herself... he turned into a \n monster. He did fill the house \n with children... he did, but... \n they weren't laughing...\n\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \n a padded bench on one side of the room.\n\n THEO\n Nell, what happened?\n\n NELL\n Carolyn showed me where she hid ",". She breaks into a run. The cry \n sounds from farther off. Nell chases after it.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Theo carrying a pot of tea and some cups enters quietly just in case\n Nell is asleep. She stops in surprise. The window is smashed, lamp \n on the floor. Nell is gone.\n\n THEO\n Nell?\n\n INT. NELL'S HALLWAY - NORTH WING - NIGHT\n\n","\n are looking back at them, Nell goes cold. Theo holds herself.\n\n NELL\n We should go back.\n\n Theo nods. They turn around, Theo opening what she thinks was the \n door they came through.\n\n INT. NARROW STAIRCASE - DUSK\n\n They hurry down a narrow staircase, Theo first, Nell right behind.\n\n NELL\n Theo, I'm scared --\n\n They fly down a set of steps, The","to \n anyone. That was the job I had, \n Theo, it's the only job I've ever \n known, and I failed. I'm actually \n a bad person, Theo. The world \n doesn't need me.\n\n Theo shakes her head, brushes at her eyes. The confession, on the \n top of the fright, has moved her deeply.\n\n THEO\n Oh, Nell. Eleven years. With","Luke goes out. But Nell pauses, stopping Theo with her.\n\n The House is quiet. Marrow's hand still outstretched. Nell looks\n around the room. There are heads everywhere, faces: animal heads,\n humans, gods, all staring from the woodwork, the carpets everything.\n All turning to her.\n\n Theo looks around, but can't see what Nell is seeing. Nell's breath\n comes faster, disoriented, yet aware...\n\n NELL\n ","here with you.\n\n Silence. The others are embarrassed by her sincerity. She's right,\n Nell is not of their world.\n\n MARROW\n We're glad you're here.\n\n He says this with enough sympathy for Theo to see his interest in \n the girl in the thrift shop dress.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Why don't we move to another room?\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - NIGHT\n\n The H","another. She doesn't want to. But she \n forces a smile and points to one on the left. They both disappear \n into the dark gothic hallway.\n\n INT. SMALL PARLOR (CONFUSING ROOMS) - DUSK\n\n Theo breezes into a small parlor with heavy green velvet curtains,\n panelled walls, rich settees. Other doors lead off the room. Nell\n follows.\n\n THEO\n This is a serious question, but do ","gaze, looks away. Theo reads Nell's look, and \n releases her foot. She sits back in the chair. For a moment Nell \n doesn't know what to do.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n I better go to bed.\n\n THEO\n Are you sure?\n\n NELL\n I think so.\n\n THEO\n Okay.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Nell closes the door"," be together, with Nell.\n\n And they go. Three scared people.\n\n INT. NELL'S BATHROOM - NIGHT\n\n Luke sits on the closed toilet and watches Nell in the adjoining \n room. Light from the bathroom falls across her fetal, curled form \n in the bed.\n\n The door to Theo's room is open too. Luke glances over. Theo lies \n on her bed. Marrow is slouched in a chair.\n\n Luke","\n\n THEO\n Nell, what happened?\n\n NELL\n Carolyn showed me where she hid \n him, hid him with all the ones he \n killed --\n\n MARROW\n Nell... please, Nell... take a \n deep breath...\n\n NELL\n And they're all locked together in \n here... and he won't let go of \n them!\n\n Marrow grabs her face.\n\n ","\n\n THEO (cont'd)\n Cold. Oh, God. Feel it.\n\n She looks up in horror at Nell. Their breath FOGS in the air. Nell\n holds her hand up in front of her, and as we watch HER HAIR PRICKLES\n UP, GOOSEBUMPS WITH THEM.\n\n Her eyes turn up to the door, and: BAMBABAMBAM BABBA BAM! The DOOR\n JARS in its frame, leaping from the","s moving fast.\n\n She dodges toward the archway where Theo and Marrow went, and STOPS.\n It's a wall. Solid wall. There's no archway here! Nell backs \n away. Alone.\n\n The House has separated them.\n\n Nell tries to open any of the hall doors, but they are all locked.\n There's no other way then going back.\n\n INT. MEZZANINE - DAY\n\n Nell is back in the mezzanine"],["\n and Nell heard him. She thought \n it was ghosts. Let's go look for \n him again.\n\n MARROW\n No. If he's lost somewhere in the \n house... he'll have to stay lost \n until tomorrow, until the night is \n over. What we have to do now is \n be together, with Nell.\n\n And they go. Three scared people.\n\n INT. NELL'S BATH"," died... How did you die?\n\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\n\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \n see the book.\n\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\n\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is","bed, furniture, all in blue purple. An open \n door gives a glimpse of a bathroom.\n\n A large fireplace dominates one wall. Its mantle is carved with \n the faces of children, happy, at play, alive. Nell touches the \n wood, loving.\n\n NELL\n They're so beautiful. Aren't \n they?\n\n MRS. DUDLEY\n I've seen 'em. Lot to dust.\n\n NELL\n","\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is in Nell's lap.\n Nell sits on the bed in her sleeping tee-shirt and undies. Theo \n looks at the book with her.\n\n THEO\n That's so sad.\n\n NELL\n There's hundreds of them. This \n must be a record of the children \n who died at the mills, like Luke","with her into infinity. Theo dances after her. They dance, not \n quite together. Nell stops and pronounces:\n\n NELL\n I love this house. I really love \n this house.\n\n THEO\n (gently, recognizes \n that Nell is \n different)\n You're okay.\n\n Nell blushes... and they burst out laughing. They take off running,\n their reflections with them, stampeding for an"," Nell stares in drunken fascination. And as the first fear begins to\n rise in her throat, the wind dies down and in its place there is the\n FAINTEST TRACE OF CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER. Nell's reaction changes... \n to awe.\n\n Tentative, her hand goes out, shaking... and touches the mantle.\n\n It is hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \n FACES engraved in the wood all seem","s body just hangs there... and then it\n gently falls down.\n\n Theo lets out a horrified cry as she runs toward Nell.\n\n THEO\n NELL!\n\n Marrow gets up off the floor in terror and awe, his life his \n beliefs changed forever. He walks over to Nell and feels her pulse, \n knowing it is a useless gesture as Theo softly moans over Nell.\n\n And as the camera pans up across the entry door, we see a new \n carving","you think I did that. I \n didn't! Go to the great hall and \n look in the fireplace!\n\n She starts to laugh. Marrow gently presses Nell down, tucking the\n blanket around her.\n\n MARROW\n Why would we want to do that, \n Nell?\n\n NELL\n Because that's where he burned \n them up, the child laborers from \n his mills! Because that's where"," top of the fright, has moved her deeply.\n\n THEO\n Oh, Nell. Eleven years. With all \n due respect to your mother who I'm \n sure was a saint, I'd have called \n Doctor Kevorkian, if not for her, \n for me.\n\n It's such a horrible thought it makes Nell smile, and they share a\n tearful laugh.\n\n INT. NELL'S BATHROOM - NIGHT\n\n N","\n\n Nell lies in her bed asleep, the room dark except for the last,\n guttering end of one of the candles. It goes out.\n\n A FAINT SOUND. LONG, LOW, like the inarticulate murmur of a dozen\n madmen. Nell stirs. Her eyes open. She hears the sound.\n\n The wall on the opposite side of the room catches the pale gloom \n from the window. The twisting figures in the plaster, the low-\n relief","\n day. There's the same symbol on the graves of the children, a \n cherub of death. We've seen this image before. Nell backs out of \n the cemetery, afraid.\n\n INT. MEZZANINE - DAY\n\n Nell hurries down the mezzanine to the doorway which leads to the \n Red Parlor.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n She stands there a beat staring in at the volumes upon volumes of\n books. Nell"," NELL\n After Rene... after she killed \n herself... he turned into a \n monster. He did fill the house \n with children... he did, but... \n they weren't laughing...\n\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \n a padded bench on one side of the room.\n\n THEO\n Nell, what happened?\n\n NELL\n Carolyn showed me where she hid ","jolting Nell. She stops and stares. \n Outside the window, through the glass, she sees Mr. Dudley, staring \n at her, he's been watching her dance. The spell is broken. Nell, \n embarrassed, can't bear to look at him.\n\n A beat, and then Marrow goes over and shuts the door. When he turns\n back --\n\n -- Nell is just vanishing around the corner, her rapid footsteps\n echoing in the vaulted room.\n\n ","tries to see what else is in here \n in the dark, she begins to make out WHITE SHROUDED SHAPES.\n\n Against the wall. A bed covered in a sheet. A table beside it. A \n HAND BELL. A CANE.\n\n <u>Just like Nell's sick room at home</u>. Nell realizes it, covers her\n mouth.\n\n The furniture is in EXACTLY the same position, though the sheets\n covering the pieces are stained, FAR OLD",". This is her chance. But...\n\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \n Final. Fate-sealing.\n\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\n\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \n secret study.\n\n INT. CRAIN'","Nell. Luke and Theo look up. Mute dread. No Nell anywhere.\n\n MARROW\n Oh, no.\n\n INT. GRAND ENTRY - NIGHT\n\n The massive black door swings silently into the dark, vaulted entry.\n Marrow pauses there, looks about, and then enters. He holds a tire\n iron.\n\n Luke does too. He and Theo follow Marrow in.\n\n THEO\n I'm sure she went back to her \n","ible voice, like a \n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\n\n EXT. GATE - DAWN\n\n Theo and Marrow stand on the far side of Nell's wrecked car. On the\n other side of the gate Mr. Dudley is undoing the chain. Mrs. Dudley\n stares at the ragged duo.\n\n MRS. DUDLEY\n (her final verdict)\n City people.\n\n Mr. Dudley","\n Marrow, Theo and Luke, stricken silent by her entry. Looks of shock \n on their faces. Nell just stands there. A beat. And then it pours \n out of her, hysterical.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n He hunted all those children in \n here. The dead children, Josiah \n and Elizabeth and all of them... \n from the books... he took them up \n here... he played games... the \n ","ell goes rigid, not breathing, not seeing anything but the awful\n presence. She is spellbound.\n\n BANG. A door in the connecting passage opens, and Theo and Marrow \n come out, between Nell in the entry and the thing in the Great Hall \n beyond.\n\n In a flash the SHAPE is moving at Theo and Marrow. They don't see \n it, have their backs turned.\n\n THEO\n Nell! There you --\n\n But Nell is looking past them","others stand there speechless.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n I have to stay. You better go. I \n could explain it, but you'd never \n understand.\n\n And that, finally, galvanizes the others into action. Marrow sweeps\n past Theo, grabs Nell hard, and swings her for the door.\n\n MARROW\n Come on.\n\n NELL\n No --\n\n THEO\n Please, N"],[" We can't hide in here! We won't \n make it til morning.\n\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\n\n NELL\n I know.\n\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \n and they all look down in fear toward the great","the mezzanine. The\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\n behind.\n\n LUKE\n He said that Hugh Crain... Hugh \n Crain was a monster. He said that \n he was a brutal, horrible man. He \n told me that Crain drove his \n workers to early deaths. Crain \n had children chained to the looms \n in his mill. And listen to this: \n "," looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\n\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\n\n NELL\n Finally.\n\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\n\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is"," Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\n\n NELL\n Hugh Crain. He's in the house. \n He's still here...\n\n Theo pulls back, goes very still. The first hint of fear in her \n eyes.\n\n THEO\n No.\n\n Marrow sees the panic working on her, gives her a stern look:\n\n MARROW\n Theo! You too. Listen to me.\n\n The command der","\n The SHAPE hovers there, silent. Air and shadow distort around it. \n The carved animal heads on the Newell posts and walls loll back and \n forth, alive then not-alive. Pieces of furniture stamp in fury, try \n to animate themselves, but can't find limbs that work.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n Come on, Hugh Crain, you know what \n to do. We've both been here \n before.\n\n The",", eyes trying to adjust, afraid. Behind them \n looms the fireplace and in front of it, a metal cage-like fire \n screen. A beat.\n\n BAM! SOMETHING LUNGES out of the fireplace but is caught in the\n screen, hitting Nell and Theo in the back.\n\n Theo's lighter goes flying in that very instant, and we never see\n what's hit the screen. Neither do they. Theo falls SCREAMING. \n Nell manages","-- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is only from up here on the second \n floor with this curtain open that the FACE is visible in the late-\n day sunlight.\n\n Despite the artist's discretion, the lines in the man's skin, his\n eyes, his posture, cry of unspeakable sickness.\n\n Unconsciously, Nell takes a step back. In the far b.g., near the \n "," here... and he won't let go of \n them!\n\n Marrow grabs her face.\n\n MARROW\n Nell!\n\n Luke rushes in with a blanket. Theo covers Nell and then holds her,\n gently.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Look at me, Nell. Look at me!\n\n Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\n\n NELL\n Hugh Crain. He's","into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth and sends \n Luke flying through the chain curtains.\n\n The others are speechless. They can do nothing but watch as Luke \n lays there on the ashdrop. A long moment.\n\n NELL\n (to the house, to\n Crain)\n No! No! Let them go!\n\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to",", Hugh Crain, you know what \n to do. We've both been here \n before.\n\n The SHAPE HOWLS FORWARD, knocking everyone out of their seats. It\n flies across the floor at Nell.\n\n Marrow and Theo are slammed against the walls out of its way.\n\n Nell OPENS WIDE HER ARMS in an EMBRACE.\n\n It's ON HER, but just as it seems to hit, it SPLITS like she went\n right through","leans up \n against the sink, arms folded. Theo and Nell turn to look at him. \n A beat. And then:\n\n BUMP. Bump bump. It's the sound. Luke goes over to the door, \n pushes it open.\n\n LUKE\n Oh, look! There he goes, ol' Hugh \n Crain!\n\n INT. GROUND FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT\n\n VARIOUS SHOTS as the bumping","His eyes are closed, unaware\n his breath is fogging too.\n\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Nell lies there afraid to move, afraid to make the faintest sound.\n From the darkness above WOOD CREAKS. At first it seems like someone \n is walking on the floor above. But it is coming from within the \n room.\n\n The CARVINGS on the ceiling, the impossibly elaborate woodwork, ARE\n MOVING. Incredibly slowly, with","never see\n what's hit the screen. Neither do they. Theo falls SCREAMING. \n Nell manages to whirl, embrace the cage and slam it with whatever's \n inside back into the fireplace. The screen JOLTS hard enough to \n lift Nell.\n\n NELL\n HELP!\n\n Theo still SCREAMING, lying on her back before the fireplace, rams \n her feet against it. The screen HAMMERS at Nell and The","around \n us. Don't get in the way, please.\n\n Nell cinches the shoelace tight around his wrist.\n\n Luke throws down the chair, giving up on the window.\n\n LUKE\n Shit! All right, you \n sonofabitch...\n\n As he looks up at another one of Crain's painting hanging on the \n wall. Nell Theo with Marrow straggle toward the great hall.\n\n INT. VESTIBULE TO"," They sit there in the darkness, panting.\n\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NEXT DAY\n\n Nell stares at the tableaux of Hugh Crain. In the morning light it\n seems inert, cold, just a statue. Luke and Theo enter. Nell \n doesn't seem to notice them until they're beside her.\n\n THEO\n Marrow said the same thing as last \n night, he <u>says</u> --\n (meaning, this is","'s a wail of \n agony. A wail not of this earth. Nell struggles, racked between \n the pain in her hand and the tortured child's cry.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n A child. No. No! I'm right \n HERE!\n\n The EYE focusses on her. Dead on her. Nell stops. And with sudden\n violence, she's WRENCHED out of the bed by whatever's","\n\n Nell lies in her bed asleep, the room dark except for the last,\n guttering end of one of the candles. It goes out.\n\n A FAINT SOUND. LONG, LOW, like the inarticulate murmur of a dozen\n madmen. Nell stirs. Her eyes open. She hears the sound.\n\n The wall on the opposite side of the room catches the pale gloom \n from the window. The twisting figures in the plaster, the low-\n relief","In the night...\n\n The DOOR BAMS SHUT with a concussion that rocks the entire room,\n sweeping Luke's jacket under it. The HANDLES TURN, LOCK DOWN.\n\n Stunned. All stunned.\n\n A RUSH OF AIR. The House EXHALES. Silence. And then CREEEEAK. \n They cast their eyes back up the stairs.\n\n BUMP BUMP. Far-off sounds, hair-raising, of infinite variety, carry\n down","HALES. And BOOM!\n\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\n\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\n\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\n\n EXT. GATE - DA","s the vast fireplace, its chain curtains hanging like the \n veil to some hellish sanctuary.\n\n Nell stares at it, daunted. What is it that Carolyn is trying to \n show her? The fireplace beckons, and Nell approaches against her \n will.\n\n She finds a steel poker hanging by the fireplace, and takes it down.\n She uses it to slide one of the chain curtains open. She steps into\n its soot-black mouth.\n\n Nell peers up the"],["the mezzanine. The\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\n behind.\n\n LUKE\n He said that Hugh Crain... Hugh \n Crain was a monster. He said that \n he was a brutal, horrible man. He \n told me that Crain drove his \n workers to early deaths. Crain \n had children chained to the looms \n in his mill. And listen to this: \n ","The children Hugh \n Crain built the house for. The \n children he never had.\n\n LUKE\n Come on. These are the typically \n sentimental gestures of a depraved \n industrialist.\n\n He puts his hand on a CHAIR, the back of which is heavily carved in\n the motif he just described.\n\n Nell turns him an appalled look.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n Theo was working in the dining ","snaps shut again, taking Luke's\n head off his body.\n\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like a puppet \n with its strings cut.\n\n Nell, Marrow and Theo stand there. Not sure of what just happened,\n their minds unable to accept it.\n\n A sound comes up in Theo's throat. A sob. A horrified whimper. \n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \n obvious will make it","the \n house, and about Hugh Crain... but \n I'm asking you not to repeat it.\n\n LUKE\n I can keep a secret.\n\n They go in. The house is outlined by the sky and clouds and the \n moon.\n\n INT. MEZZANINE - NIGHT\n\n Luke catches up with Nell and Theo as he reaches the mezzanine. The\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\n behind.\n\n ",", he LIGHTS a towering TAPESTRY on fire.\n\n He races from one to the next, lighting them. Theo and Nell help\n Marrow up, back away as Luke shoots by.\n\n All the tapestries are ON FIRE, blazing up like torches.\n\n At last, his rage spent, heaving, he moves to join the others at the\n center of the room. They stare at him, appalled, afraid. Knowing \n he has done something wrong.\n\n Luke stops","of the room. They stare at him, appalled, afraid. Knowing \n he has done something wrong.\n\n Luke stops. Maybe fifteen feet away. He sees their expressions.\n\n LUKE\n What?\n\n Nell looks over at the burning tapestries. Heat sears the stone,\n blackens the carved figures in the woodwork.\n\n The ruddy light casts deep shadows throughout the room.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n We'll get out after this","-- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is only from up here on the second \n floor with this curtain open that the FACE is visible in the late-\n day sunlight.\n\n Despite the artist's discretion, the lines in the man's skin, his\n eyes, his posture, cry of unspeakable sickness.\n\n Unconsciously, Nell takes a step back. In the far b.g., near the \n "," Crain)\n No! No! Let them go!\n\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to prevent it. Luke\n stands up, has time to give her a look.\n\n And then the LION'S HEAD FLUE drops open behind him. Luke looks \n back into its iron eyes --\n\n -- and with SHOCKING SPEED the FLUE snaps shut again, taking Luke's\n head off his body.\n\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like"," They sit there in the darkness, panting.\n\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NEXT DAY\n\n Nell stares at the tableaux of Hugh Crain. In the morning light it\n seems inert, cold, just a statue. Luke and Theo enter. Nell \n doesn't seem to notice them until they're beside her.\n\n THEO\n Marrow said the same thing as last \n night, he <u>says</u> --\n (meaning, this is"," lasts a few heartbeats.\n\n He looks away. A flicker of distress crosses Nell's face. And then \n she realizes Marrow is looking at --\n\n -- Luke.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n You have to see something.\n\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - DAY\n\n Luke, Nell and Marrow mount the stairs, climb up and up. They find\n Theo in the mezzanine staring at the wall at the painting. "," NELL (cont'd)\n No...\n\n But the substance doesn't come from the ceiling.\n\n It is as if the oils on the PAINTING OF HUGH CRAIN have been boiled \n by a heat gun and blasted off, running down from there. Hugh's face \n is gone. In place of the face, the underlying ivory of the canvas \n glares out... like a skull.\n\n Nell SCREAMS and runs away, the others calling out after her in ","ified whimper. \n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \n obvious will make it real:\n\n MARROW\n Luke.\n\n BANG. The blood-splattered LION'S HEAD drops open. Luke's head \n falls out.\n\n Theo SCREAMS and SCREAMS again. Nell backs away with Marrow, almost\n has the presence of mind to drag them away, but --\n\n -- CLANG! The A","'s hundreds of them. This \n must be a record of the children \n who died at the mills, like Luke \n said.\n\n THEO\n Before he painted your name over \n Mister Crain.\n\n Theo hands her the bottle. Nell takes it, tops off her glass,\n spilling. Her face is red. She grimaces as she tosses back a big\n swallow.\n\n NELL\n You really think it was Luke?\n\n "," looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\n\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\n\n NELL\n Finally.\n\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\n\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\n Crain. It is the painting. It is","runs over \n to help him and shoves the tire iron between the doors and PRIES. \n Marrow throws the useless thing down and stands back.\n\n Luke joins him, and they shoulder block it together. But this door \n is MASSIVE. There's no way.\n\n LUKE\n No you bastard! Break!\n\n He roundhouse kicks it, hurts himself.\n\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \n hand on her","of cloth fall to the floor and go out, there is \n utter silence.\n\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\n\n Luke looks at them helplessly. An awful, impending beat. Without\n warning, the huge PERSIAN CARPET he's standing on JERKS out from \n under him. Luke falls on his stomach.\n\n Stunned, Luke looks straight into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth","him.\n (beat)\n Can you tell me, what sort of car \n does he drive?\n (beat, reacting)\n A Toyota...\n\n INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE KITCHEN - NIGHT\n\n Luke stops Theo, carrying a tray of food and tea, outside the \n kitchen door.\n\n THEO\n We're fucked. We're in a haunted \n house and we can't get out until \n the morning."," Maybe \n they're not even his.\n\n LUKE\n Then he's got to be in the \n house...\n\n As they leave, the CAMERA LINGERS on a covered shape in one of the\n stalls, SMALLER than the other carriages, it could be a car. A \n broken wagon wheel leaning against it.\n\n INT. STATUARY HALL AND SHORT MONTAGE THROUGH HOUSE - DAY\n\n Marrow, Theo and Luke",". A figure stands and comes over. It's \n Luke, stretching.\n\n LUKE (cont'd)\n I've been thinking about these \n carvings. Kids. Lots of kids. \n Fat little angel kids. Wild kids. \n Kids with furry animals.\n\n NELL\n The children. The children Hugh \n Crain built the house for. The \n children he never had.\n\n LUKE","\n\n Luke grimaces, shifts into low, pours on the gas.\n\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\n\n The car fishes back and forth against the gate, hurling a shower of\n gravel on the other cars off to the side of the road. Marrow, Nell \n and Theo move back.\n\n One of the Buick's headlights breaks. The grill mashes in. For a \n long moment the car struggles against the Gate. No good. Luke \n eases"],[" Mrs. Dudley\n stares at the ragged duo.\n\n MRS. DUDLEY\n (her final verdict)\n City people.\n\n Mr. Dudley can barely get one side of the gate open with the car\n crushed in it. Theo and Marrow emerge, dazed, into the real world\n again.\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n You find out what you wanted to \n know, mister?\n\n Marrow stares at him, he","udley, the\n caretaker?\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n Yeah, I'm Mister Dudley, the \n caretaker. What are you doing \n here?\n\n NELL\n I'm with Dr. Marrow's group. I'm \n supposed to check in with Mrs. \n Dudley up at the house. Is she \n here?\n\n She hands him the directions. He glances at them."," MRS. DUDLEY\n (her final verdict)\n City people.\n\n Mr. Dudley can barely get one side of the gate open with the car\n crushed in it. Theo and Marrow emerge, dazed, into the real world\n again.\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n You find out what you wanted to \n know, mister?\n\n Marrow stares at him, he's an exhausted man. He walks away, Theo\n beside him.\n"," NELL\n You can call me Nell, Dr. Marrow.\n\n MARROW\n Nell. Good enough. And I'm Jim.\n\n NELL\n I'm really... honored to be part \n of this study, Jim.\n\n MARROW\n Well... we're glad to have you.\n\n His smile is devastating. Nell reddens, instantly taken by Marrow's\n warmth, observant sensitivity. <u>Theo not"," MARROW\n The cold sensation. Who felt it \n first?\n\n NELL\n Theo I think. You've asked us \n that three times, Doctor Marrow. \n What's going on?\n\n MARROW\n How do you feel about Luke's \n suggestion that it was just the \n old plumbing? Water hammer, \n something like that?\n\n Theo and Nell look at each other in frustration. "," And then Mrs. Dudley\n backs out of the room, shuts the door.\n\n NELL (cont'd)\n My room is right next door. I \n think we share a bathroom.\n\n Theo has an interesting eye on Nell, she's studying her.\n\n THEO\n Don't worry, I probably won't be \n in here much. Light sleeper.\n\n NELL\n That's why we're here.\n\n ","s enough, Mister Dudley.\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n She stepped off the platform.\n (he looks up, with \n a suggestive leer)\n They had long skirts in those \n days.\n\n MARROW\n Thank you, Mister Dudley, \n please...\n\n MR. DUDLEY\n House is full of stories. If you \n know how to read these things, \n it's",".\n\n MARROW\n For an American you do a good \n imitation of the British at their \n most apologetic.\n (Veddy British)\n Pardon me. Excuse me, sorry, \n sorry...\n\n Nell smiles. Theo walks in the door, sees Nell and Marrow, Nell\n squeezed in behind him.\n\n NELL\n Am I that bad?\n\n Theo is aware of Marrow's curiosity and fascination","jolting Nell. She stops and stares. \n Outside the window, through the glass, she sees Mr. Dudley, staring \n at her, he's been watching her dance. The spell is broken. Nell, \n embarrassed, can't bear to look at him.\n\n A beat, and then Marrow goes over and shuts the door. When he turns\n back --\n\n -- Nell is just vanishing around the corner, her rapid footsteps\n echoing in the vaulted room.\n\n "," on the stairs. Theo touches her. She starts.\n\n THEO\n Nell, it was an accident.\n\n INT. MARROW'S BEDROOM (PART OF CONFUSING ROOMS) - NIGHT\n\n Marrow, sitting at a desk, speaks into a digital voice recorder. \n His voice is cold, analytical.\n\n MARROW\n Icebreaker exercise conducted over \n dinner. Observed initial bonding \n among subjects and experimenter.","about this.\n\n MARROW\n Hmm.\n\n NELL\n I'm sorry. I'm messing up the \n study.\n\n MARROW\n No you're not. Something moved \n you. You saw something.\n\n Nell looks to him. He's sincere. He believes her.\n\n NELL\n I don't know. Maybe I...\n\n \"Didn't\" she almost says. ","here with you.\n\n Silence. The others are embarrassed by her sincerity. She's right,\n Nell is not of their world.\n\n MARROW\n We're glad you're here.\n\n He says this with enough sympathy for Theo to see his interest in \n the girl in the thrift shop dress.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n Why don't we move to another room?\n\n INT. RED PARLOR - NIGHT\n\n The H","\n us? David! Daviiiiid!\n\n INT. KITCHEN - DAY\n\n Marrow comes through the kitchen. Mrs. Dudley, chopping carrots,\n stands by the counter. Only the slightest pause in the rhythm of \n her chopping says she's noticed him.\n\n MARROW\n Do you know who these keys belong \n to?\n\n MRS. DUDLEY\n No.\n\n MARROW\n ","ible voice, like a \n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\n\n EXT. GATE - DAWN\n\n Theo and Marrow stand on the far side of Nell's wrecked car. On the\n other side of the gate Mr. Dudley is undoing the chain. Mrs. Dudley\n stares at the ragged duo.\n\n MRS. DUDLEY\n (her final verdict)\n City people.\n\n Mr. Dudley"," Because it's my phone.\n (back to the phone)\n Yes... Mrs. Dudley, just leave the \n boxes inside, thank you. See you \n soon. Thank you.\n\n He hangs up.\n\n Marrow is trying to read the first file as he goes to his desk. \n Mary shows him a huge CORKBOARD covered with photos, articles, and \n various items.\n\n MARY\n Here's how they're organized. \n ","was.\n\n NELL\n (for the absurdity \n of the idea)\n Welcome Home.\n\n MARROW\n You'll never see it again. Mr. \n Dudley's taking care of it.\n (beat)\n I'm sorry, Nell. Can I show you \n something you'd like to see?\n\n NELL\n (still too shaky \n for enthusiasm)\n Sure.\n\n","MARROW\n We're going down the stairs, Nell, \n I'm taking you down the stairs.\n\n He leads her go down the stairs.\n\n INT. THEO'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Marrow and Theo stand in the doorway to the shared bathroom watching\n Luke finish taping a trash bag over Nell's broken window. Nell lies \n in her bed, asleep or unconscious, it's impossible to say. Luke \n finishes, comes over. Marrow is hushed","like \n to --\n\n MRS. DUDLEY\n -- Haven't seen him.\n\n MARROW\n Thank you.\n\n Frustrated, he continues on.\n\n INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE LOCKED ROOM - DAY\n\n Nell and Theo walk down the long hallway behind, opening doors,\n checking rooms.\n\n NELL\n David?\n\n THEO\n Maybe he never came in. If he'd \n","have to hear me. Let me \n explain what's happening to you.\n (beat)\n You're participating in a study on \n hysteria.\n\n Everyone but Marrow REACTS.\n\n MARROW (cont'd)\n I've given you a powerful \n suggestion that you're in a \n haunted house. I picked Hill \n House because it fits the \n expectations. It was my... it was \n my"," to be in a location with a \n definite sense of history, and I \n wanted to make sure that it wasn't \n so pleasant you'd all sleep too \n easily. You'll be taking a \n variety of tests, none of them \n harmful, and you've got the house, \n the grounds, and each other to \n keep you company.\n\n THEO\n When do we take the tests?\n\n MARROW\n "]],"string":"[\n [\n \" he says it's about one thing, a \\n psychological profile of \\n environmental effects on \\n insomnia... and that'd be a \\n legitimate study, but I think that \\n we've been subjected to an \\n academic bait and switch; he's \\n really looking at something else.\\n\\n NELL\\n No. No... Jim's not doing -- \\n these things.\\n\\n But there's a desperate, rising edge to Nell'\",\n \"NELL\\n I'm Eleanor Vance, I'm with --\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n -- Dr. Marrow's group. You're the \\n first.\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley just stares with her sunken face. It unsettles Nell.\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY (cont'd)\\n I'll show you your room.\\n\\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY/MEZZANINE - DAY\\n\",\n \"you should be thanking Lou for\\n getting you these two weeks to get\\n Mother's things packed.\\n\\n At first we can't even see who she's yelling at. At first we don't\\n even notice her. Then we do...\\n\\n Holding herself, in a dim corner away from the light, small, plain,\\n like a part of the faded room is ELEANOR VANCE, 20's -- Nell.\\n She stares at the door. The clothes line raps at the begrim\",\n \"Ph.D. in psychic studies.\\n\\n MARROW\\n And after she was thrown out, she \\n needed a job.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n You don't believe in the \\n paranormal.\\n\\n MARROW\\n No, but she does, and that's all \\n that matters.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Does she know that's why you're \\n using her?\\n\\n MARROW\\n No\",\n \"about \\n last night's fireplace incident \\n concluded at three a.m. Nell \\n continues her alienation of the \\n other subjects and the \\n experimenter. It remains unclear \\n whether she truly believes she did \\n not deface the painting. \\n Interview with the subject in \\n greenhouse yesterday to ascertain \\n the extent of her self-delusion \\n was inconclusive due to her \\n efforts to sexualize encounter \",\n \" Yes.\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n (what other reason \\n is there?)\\n She was unhappy.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n Can't say. Haven't been here that \\n long.\\n (he's off)\\n Well, it's Labor Day, gotta get to \\n work.\\n\\n And off he goes.\\n\\n MARROW\\n That's a\",\n \"REAT HALL - DAY\\n\\n Nell moves down the hall. It's dim, stale, lined with pier tables,\\n candelabra.\\n\\n NELL\\n Hello? Hello? Mrs. Dudley?\\n\\n Her voice echoes from the room beyond. She follows her own voice\\n into --\\n\\n INT. GREAT HALL - DAY (CONTINUOUS)\\n\\n -- A long, oval great hall. Passages and doors lead off in all\\n directions to God-\",\n \"re a teacher. Nursery \\n school.\\n\\n NELL\\n No.\\n\\n MOM\\n You just... you seem like someone \\n who takes care of children, lots \\n of children.\\n\\n NELL\\n Maybe... maybe someday. I'd like \\n that.\\n\\n The woman smiles in something like sympathy, and gets in her car. \\n When she does, we see a friendly GAS STATION ATTENDANT appear \\n behind N\",\n \". \\n Nell, feeling the drug, finds her way to the phone and picks up.\\n\\n NELL\\n Hello? Yes, this is Eleanor.\\n -- Where? Yes, it's right here.\\n\\n Nell listens for a long moment. She picks up the classifieds, \\n flips through. And there it is:\\n\\n TROUBLE SLEEPING?\\n\\n WANTED - RESEARCH SUBJECTS. $900.00/.WEEK +\",\n \"UKE\\n Greetings.\\n\\n And Mary enters. Crossing the threshold, she catches her breath, \\n and when she comes into the hall and sees everyone, she also sees \\n the house in its detail. And she has a bad feeling.\\n\\n Marrow is still putting everyone at ease.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Eleanor, how was the drive?\\n\\n NELL\\n You can call me Nell, Dr. Marrow.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell. \",\n \"an OPEN BOOKCASE BEHIND CRAIN. \\n Intuitively, she turns toward the same bookcase across from her and \\n is able to push it open. Inside a small stairwell...\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'S SECRET STUDY - DAY\\n\\n Down the circular stairs Nell enters a very small dusty room. \\n Velvet curtains drawn shut, only a sliver of sunlight showing \\n through. As her eyes adjust, she makes out the furnishings of a \\n late-nin\",\n \" And then Mrs. Dudley\\n backs out of the room, shuts the door.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n My room is right next door. I \\n think we share a bathroom.\\n\\n Theo has an interesting eye on Nell, she's studying her.\\n\\n THEO\\n Don't worry, I probably won't be \\n in here much. Light sleeper.\\n\\n NELL\\n That's why we're here.\\n\\n \",\n \"unsmiling.\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n It's make the soup or answer the \\n door. Can't do both.\\n\\n NELL\\n Mrs. Dudley.\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n So far.\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley wipes her hands, regards Nell, nods.\\n\\n NELL\\n I'm Eleanor Vance, I'm with --\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n\",\n \" Whatever else she's \\n wearing, she wears glasses. Marrow, seeing her, motions for her to \\n go away. He doesn't break eye contact with Malcolm. Mary \\n hesitates...\\n\\n MARROW\\n Malcolm, this is essential work \\n I'm doing. Just think what my \\n research can do for education. \\n Elementary school classrooms near \\n train tracks or airports, where \\n loud noise is random; this helps\",\n \"\\n with the stipulation that it never \\n be altered or sold. Crain's \\n executors made good investments \\n and for the last hundred and \\n twenty years, Hill House has taken \\n care of itself.\\n\\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\\n\\n TODD\\n So what's this study all about \\n anyway? Mary described\",\n \"t notice. But Nell feels it in the soul. \\n Richie stops. A long beat. He looks at her, insolent, then plows \\n on with his tank.\\n\\n JANE\\n Nell. A job? Two months and\\n where is this job? You have no\\n degree, you've never worked --\\n\\n Nell explodes in outraged fury, startling us.\\n\\n NELL\\n -- I've never worked? --\\n\\n \",\n \"in outraged fury, startling us.\\n\\n NELL\\n -- I've never worked? --\\n\\n JANE\\n You have no experience in the\\n world... the regular world. What \\n would you put on a resume?\\n (beat, softening)\\n Now we all appreciate what you did \\n for Mother. Isn't that right, \\n Lou?\\n\\n LOU\\n Eleven years. Long time.\\n\\n JAN\",\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \"to \\n anyone. That was the job I had, \\n Theo, it's the only job I've ever \\n known, and I failed. I'm actually \\n a bad person, Theo. The world \\n doesn't need me.\\n\\n Theo shakes her head, brushes at her eyes. The confession, on the \\n top of the fright, has moved her deeply.\\n\\n THEO\\n Oh, Nell. Eleven years. With\",\n \"with a sheet, only its lion-head arm rests protruding from\\n underneath. Nell realizes it's:\\n\\n NELL\\n Crain's study.\\n\\n She moves for the desk. An ENORMOUS MIRROR, its silver inner \\n surface flaking with age, tarnished, reflects the room, the desk, \\n and FOR A SPLIT SECOND, A SHADOW IN THE CHAIR. Nell steps in front \\n of it, blocking our view.\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"Ph.D. in psychic studies.\\n\\n MARROW\\n And after she was thrown out, she \\n needed a job.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n You don't believe in the \\n paranormal.\\n\\n MARROW\\n No, but she does, and that's all \\n that matters.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Does she know that's why you're \\n using her?\\n\\n MARROW\\n No\",\n \" NELL\\n You can call me Nell, Dr. Marrow.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell. Good enough. And I'm Jim.\\n\\n NELL\\n I'm really... honored to be part \\n of this study, Jim.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Well... we're glad to have you.\\n\\n His smile is devastating. Nell reddens, instantly taken by Marrow's\\n warmth, observant sensitivity. <u>Theo not\",\n \"inations. You brought us \\n here to scare us. Insomnia, that \\n was just a decoy issue. You're \\n disgusting.\\n\\n NELL\\n Is this true? I've been \\n hypnotized?\\n\\n MARROW\\n I hadn't done a study of how group \\n fear affects individual \\n performance. Mass hysteria is \\n like a story, Nell. A communal \\n \",\n \"works in a group...\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Not the way you've constructed \\n your group, it's just not ethical!\\n\\n MARROW\\n But if the group knows it's being \\n studied as a group, you \\n contaminate the results. The \\n deception is minor.\\n\\n Malcolm sees Mary Lambretta.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Are you working with her?\\n\\n MARROW\\n Mary, I\",\n \"Marrow is the cold, analytical tone, his \\n garbled jargon.\\n\\n MARROW (OC)\\n One minute!\\n\\n It's Marrow, for real, about to enter. Nell clicks off the \\n recorder, drops it into the briefcase. Marrow is startled, not \\n expecting Nell to be sitting right next to his papers and briefcase.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Nell.\\n\\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead\",\n \"\\n with the stipulation that it never \\n be altered or sold. Crain's \\n executors made good investments \\n and for the last hundred and \\n twenty years, Hill House has taken \\n care of itself.\\n\\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\\n\\n TODD\\n So what's this study all about \\n anyway? Mary described\",\n \"have to hear me. Let me \\n explain what's happening to you.\\n (beat)\\n You're participating in a study on \\n hysteria.\\n\\n Everyone but Marrow REACTS.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n I've given you a powerful \\n suggestion that you're in a \\n haunted house. I picked Hill \\n House because it fits the \\n expectations. It was my... it was \\n my\",\n \"about this.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Hmm.\\n\\n NELL\\n I'm sorry. I'm messing up the \\n study.\\n\\n MARROW\\n No you're not. Something moved \\n you. You saw something.\\n\\n Nell looks to him. He's sincere. He believes her.\\n\\n NELL\\n I don't know. Maybe I...\\n\\n \\\"Didn't\\\" she almost says. \",\n \"case.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Nell.\\n\\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead. Marrow looks from her to the\\n briefcase and back.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Were you looking for me?\\n\\n Nell can't answer. Marrow comes over, unsettled.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n How are the tests going?\\n\\n Nell rises, staring, emotionless. Betrayal just\",\n \" Whatever else she's \\n wearing, she wears glasses. Marrow, seeing her, motions for her to \\n go away. He doesn't break eye contact with Malcolm. Mary \\n hesitates...\\n\\n MARROW\\n Malcolm, this is essential work \\n I'm doing. Just think what my \\n research can do for education. \\n Elementary school classrooms near \\n train tracks or airports, where \\n loud noise is random; this helps\",\n \"hostile man \\n does not believe in Madame Velka.\\n\\n This relieves the pressure. Malcolm is not listening anymore and\\n storms off.\\n\\n MARY\\n You know what he's really upset \\n about?\\n\\n MARROW\\n What?\\n\\n MARY\\n You're going to publish, he's \\n going to perish... And why did you \\n hire me for this?\\n\\n Marrow has a sly smile. They go\",\n \"a.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Are you working with her?\\n\\n MARROW\\n Mary, I'll meet you outside.\\n\\n She understands, and she closes the door.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Why are you working with her? \\n Mary Lambretta was thrown out of \\n the department for trying to get a \\n Ph.D. in psychic studies.\\n\\n MARROW\\n And after she was thrown out, she \\n needed\",\n \" Dr. Marrow, what is this house?\\n\\n When she says this, we should be seeing her from an odd perspective,\\n the house's POV.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n There was once a king who built a \\n palace. The King's name was Hugh \\n Crain. A hundred and thirty years \\n ago, when the Merrimack Valley was \\n the center of American industry, \\n Hugh Crain made two hundred \\n million\",\n \" on the stairs. Theo touches her. She starts.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, it was an accident.\\n\\n INT. MARROW'S BEDROOM (PART OF CONFUSING ROOMS) - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow, sitting at a desk, speaks into a digital voice recorder. \\n His voice is cold, analytical.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Icebreaker exercise conducted over \\n dinner. Observed initial bonding \\n among subjects and experimenter.\",\n \"\\n\\n MARROW\\n In a way.\\n\\n Marrow studies the page. We go into the whiteness of the page to:\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Where we find Theo. The House is beautiful today, it's sunny, there\\n are flowers outside, the mood has changed. Theo is now softened, \\n she's found something better than what she had. She goes into the \\n house.\\n\\n INT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\",\n \" it again.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Look, look at what it does! The \\n subjects on the left, because they \\n anticipate the shocks, make the \\n adjustment, and lose nothing on \\n their scores. The subjects on the \\n right, because the shocks are \\n random, can't anticipate, and the \\n distraction throws them off.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Stop defending your science after \\n\",\n \" to be in a location with a \\n definite sense of history, and I \\n wanted to make sure that it wasn't \\n so pleasant you'd all sleep too \\n easily. You'll be taking a \\n variety of tests, none of them \\n harmful, and you've got the house, \\n the grounds, and each other to \\n keep you company.\\n\\n THEO\\n When do we take the tests?\\n\\n MARROW\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell, what do we do?\\n\\n NELL\\n He played hide and seek with the \\n children. That's how he built the \\n house.\\n\\n Marrow stares at her, trembling. He glances around at the winding\\n labyrinth of house. Impossible.\\n\\n MARROW\\n We can't hide in here! We won't \\n make it til morning.\\n\\n Nell looks at him\",\n \"here with you.\\n\\n Silence. The others are embarrassed by her sincerity. She's right,\\n Nell is not of their world.\\n\\n MARROW\\n We're glad you're here.\\n\\n He says this with enough sympathy for Theo to see his interest in \\n the girl in the thrift shop dress.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Why don't we move to another room?\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - NIGHT\\n\\n The H\",\n \"the presence of something.\\n\\n TODD\\n So what's this study all about \\n anyway? Mary described the kind \\n of tests we'll be doing, but \\n didn't fill us in on the big \\n picture. She said you needed bad \\n sleepers, but this wasn't about \\n curing the problem.\\n\\n MARY\\n I can tell you what this is about.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Eat first, questions later\"\n ],\n [\n \"> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts, looks at the house with a strange feeling.\\n\\n NELL\\n That's so sad.\\n\\n This has been tense between them, a gunfight. POP! A LOG in the\\n fireplace makes everyone jump. Theo relishes it, but Nell shudders.\\n\\n MARY\\n I think there's more to the story. \\n This house\",\n \"The children Hugh \\n Crain built the house for. The \\n children he never had.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Come on. These are the typically \\n sentimental gestures of a depraved \\n industrialist.\\n\\n He puts his hand on a CHAIR, the back of which is heavily carved in\\n the motif he just described.\\n\\n Nell turns him an appalled look.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n Theo was working in the dining \",\n \"ene, and a house \\n filled with children.\\n\\n NELL\\n All the carvings.\\n\\n MARROW\\n But there's a sad catch to the \\n story.\\n\\n MARY\\n What happened?\\n\\n MARROW\\n There were no children. Rene \\n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts\",\n \" Dr. Marrow, what is this house?\\n\\n When she says this, we should be seeing her from an odd perspective,\\n the house's POV.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n There was once a king who built a \\n palace. The King's name was Hugh \\n Crain. A hundred and thirty years \\n ago, when the Merrimack Valley was \\n the center of American industry, \\n Hugh Crain made two hundred \\n million\",\n \"is English Craftsman, \\n this is Romanesque. This is... \\n insane. Who lives here?\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nobody. A local mill owner, Hugh \\n Crain, built it in 1830. He had \\n no heirs, but he put the house in \\n trust, and the farmland around it, \\n with the stipulation that it never \\n be altered or sold. Crain's \\n executors\",\n \". A figure stands and comes over. It's \\n Luke, stretching.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n I've been thinking about these \\n carvings. Kids. Lots of kids. \\n Fat little angel kids. Wild kids. \\n Kids with furry animals.\\n\\n NELL\\n The children. The children Hugh \\n Crain built the house for. The \\n children he never had.\\n\\n LUKE\",\n \"Crain \\n had children chained to the looms \\n in his mill. And listen to this: \\n his beautiful Rene killed herself.\\n\\n THEO\\n And why didn't Marrow tell <u>us</u>?\\n Doesn't he trust women? That \\n fuck.\\n\\n NELL\\n (she's thinking \\n about the story, \\n not Marrow)\\n A monster? But he built this for \\n \",\n \"the Merrimack Valley was \\n the center of American industry, \\n Hugh Crain made two hundred \\n million dollars. That's forty-\\n three billion dollars in today's \\n money. He could have anything he \\n wanted. And what he wanted, was \\n Rene, his banker's beautiful \\n daughter. Rene, and a house \\n filled with children.\\n\\n NELL\\n All the carvings.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n with the stipulation that it never \\n be altered or sold. Crain's \\n executors made good investments \\n and for the last hundred and \\n twenty years, Hill House has taken \\n care of itself.\\n\\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\\n\\n TODD\\n So what's this study all about \\n anyway? Mary described\",\n \"crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \\n that we can't see.\\n\\n MARY\\n What's this?\\n (has to get his\\n attention)\\n What's this... this picture?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where\",\n \" We can't hide in here! We won't \\n make it til morning.\\n\\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\\n\\n NELL\\n I know.\\n\\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \\n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \\n and they all look down in fear toward the great\",\n \"the \\n house, and about Hugh Crain... but \\n I'm asking you not to repeat it.\\n\\n LUKE\\n I can keep a secret.\\n\\n They go in. The house is outlined by the sky and clouds and the \\n moon.\\n\\n INT. MEZZANINE - NIGHT\\n\\n Luke catches up with Nell and Theo as he reaches the mezzanine. The\\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\\n behind.\\n\\n \",\n \"the mezzanine. The\\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\\n behind.\\n\\n LUKE\\n He said that Hugh Crain... Hugh \\n Crain was a monster. He said that \\n he was a brutal, horrible man. He \\n told me that Crain drove his \\n workers to early deaths. Crain \\n had children chained to the looms \\n in his mill. And listen to this: \\n \",\n \" looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \\n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\\n\\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \\n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\\n\\n NELL\\n Finally.\\n\\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\\n\\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is\",\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \"lullaby I guess. \\n My mother used to hum it to me. \\n And her mother before that, and so \\n on.\\n (to the statue)\\n Hugh Crain, would you care to \\n dance?\\n\\n She hums another two notes, and BANG! The door behind her SLAMS \\n OPEN in a gust of wind, jolting Nell. She stops and stares. \\n Outside the window, through the glass, she sees Mr. Dudley,\",\n \" Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\\n\\n NELL\\n Hugh Crain. He's in the house. \\n He's still here...\\n\\n Theo pulls back, goes very still. The first hint of fear in her \\n eyes.\\n\\n THEO\\n No.\\n\\n Marrow sees the panic working on her, gives her a stern look:\\n\\n MARROW\\n Theo! You too. Listen to me.\\n\\n The command der\",\n \"UDLEY\\n The Purple Room. You're going to \\n be the first visitors that Hill \\n House has had since Mister Crain \\n died.\\n\\n The room is spacious, in a rococo gothic style with low-relief\\n woodwork on the walls rising to a dark, coffered, ceiling of carved\\n ivory. A king-size bed, furniture, all in blue purple. An open \\n door gives a glimpse of a bathroom.\\n\\n A large fireplace dominates\",\n \"s face \\n is the faintest, most inappropriate SMILE. It sends a chill through \\n Nell.\\n\\n The album begins to slide down the shelf, and as it does, PAGES \\n FLIP, Rene's SMILE grows wider, her hair dishevelled, her eyes lit \\n with grinning insanity...\\n\\n Nell grabs the book just as it falls from the shelf.\\n\\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \\n \",\n \"the house is carved, \\n filigreed, painted or ornamented in wild, ornate fashion. It \\n overwhelms the eye.\\n\\n NELL\\n Wow...\\n\\n She turns around, sets her suitcase on the marble floor. A short\\n hallway straight ahead seems to let onto some vast space, dimly \\n lit.\\n\\n And then Nell hears a SOUND. Carrying through the empty halls from\\n some distant place: a low, plaintive MOAN.\\n\\n Nell freezes\"\n ],\n [\n \"case.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Nell.\\n\\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead. Marrow looks from her to the\\n briefcase and back.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Were you looking for me?\\n\\n Nell can't answer. Marrow comes over, unsettled.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n How are the tests going?\\n\\n Nell rises, staring, emotionless. Betrayal just\",\n \" Maybe you did it yourself.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n THEO\\n I don't know. You've been alone \\n for a long time, maybe you want \\n attention.\\n (pointing to \\n Marrow)\\n Maybe he did it...\\n\\n MARROW\\n I didn't. You know that, Nell.\\n\\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \\n so ugly if\",\n \"Marrow is the cold, analytical tone, his \\n garbled jargon.\\n\\n MARROW (OC)\\n One minute!\\n\\n It's Marrow, for real, about to enter. Nell clicks off the \\n recorder, drops it into the briefcase. Marrow is startled, not \\n expecting Nell to be sitting right next to his papers and briefcase.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Nell.\\n\\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead\",\n \"s locked. Her BREATH FOGS THE AIR. She doesn't notice \\n it. But then she suddenly GAGS. With a look of horror she recoils \\n from the door, choking, covering her face.\\n\\n Then Theo smells it. The women are both sick from the smell.\\n\\n THEO (cont'd)\\n Oh my God, what is it? Oh, the \\n smell... ohhh.\\n\\n Marrow comes into the hallway. He sees them from\",\n \"\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, what happened?\\n\\n NELL\\n Carolyn showed me where she hid \\n him, hid him with all the ones he \\n killed --\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell... please, Nell... take a \\n deep breath...\\n\\n NELL\\n And they're all locked together in \\n here... and he won't let go of \\n them!\\n\\n Marrow grabs her face.\\n\\n \",\n \"ified whimper. \\n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \\n obvious will make it real:\\n\\n MARROW\\n Luke.\\n\\n BANG. The blood-splattered LION'S HEAD drops open. Luke's head \\n falls out.\\n\\n Theo SCREAMS and SCREAMS again. Nell backs away with Marrow, almost\\n has the presence of mind to drag them away, but --\\n\\n -- CLANG! The A\",\n \"him and freedom. It won't break.\\n\\n MARROW\\n They don't open!\\n\\n Marrow slips on the broken glass and catches hold of the lattice\\n LACERATING his ring and little finger. With a cry of pain, he lands \\n on the floor.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Oh Jesus my hand.\\n\\n Nell and Theo fall to the floor to help him. Marrow moans, and Nell\\n grips his injured hand in hers\",\n \"snaps shut again, taking Luke's\\n head off his body.\\n\\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like a puppet \\n with its strings cut.\\n\\n Nell, Marrow and Theo stand there. Not sure of what just happened,\\n their minds unable to accept it.\\n\\n A sound comes up in Theo's throat. A sob. A horrified whimper. \\n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \\n obvious will make it\",\n \"MARROW\\n We're going down the stairs, Nell, \\n I'm taking you down the stairs.\\n\\n He leads her go down the stairs.\\n\\n INT. THEO'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow and Theo stand in the doorway to the shared bathroom watching\\n Luke finish taping a trash bag over Nell's broken window. Nell lies \\n in her bed, asleep or unconscious, it's impossible to say. Luke \\n finishes, comes over. Marrow is hushed\",\n \"that's where he burned \\n them up, the child laborers from \\n his mills! Because that's where \\n their bones are! He killed\\n <i>hundreds</i>. He took them here and\\n he killed them. Their bones are \\n in the fireplace!\\n\\n Nell sobs. The others exchange looks at this. It sounds so hollow, \\n so delusional, it makes Marrow look so right.\\n\\n MARROW\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n INT. NELL'S BATHROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow lunges into the bathroom, thrown from sleep as Luke stares in\\n impotent shock. Theo is there behind Marrow an instant later.\\n\\n MARROW\\n What is it?\\n\\n Luke can't make any words come out. Marrow shoves him aside, grabs \\n the doorknob and thrashes at it.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Help me!\\n\\n He br\",\n \" Mrs. Dudley\\n stares at the ragged duo.\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n (her final verdict)\\n City people.\\n\\n Mr. Dudley can barely get one side of the gate open with the car\\n crushed in it. Theo and Marrow emerge, dazed, into the real world\\n again.\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n You find out what you wanted to \\n know, mister?\\n\\n Marrow stares at him, he\",\n \" Nell and Theo fall to the floor to help him. Marrow moans, and Nell\\n grips his injured hand in hers. Fast, like she was born a trauma\\n doctor, Nell clamps off the blood with her fingers.\\n\\n NELL\\n Give me your shoelace.\\n\\n Marrow tugs at his shoe, in shock, and looks at Nell. She's calm.\\n Terrifyingly calm. And in that moment, he realizes she's not out of\\n her mind. \",\n \"the eyelid, but her eye is intact.\\n\\n NELL\\n Here, cover it. Don't let her \\n touch it.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow slams the door on the passenger side of Todd's car. Mary \\n sits there, moaning, glass covering her eye, blood spilling out \\n around the edges. Luke is on her side of the car.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Keep your head back, that's\",\n \" sleep.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Go ahead.\\n\\n Luke leaves the kitchen. Theo and Nell watch him go.\\n\\n THEO\\n If this was some sort of joke, I'm \\n going to kill him.\\n\\n NELL\\n You know it wasn't a joke, Theo.\\n\\n Marrow watches the exchange closely.\\n\\n MARROW\\n The cold sensation. Who felt it \\n first?\\n\\n NELL\\n The\",\n \"\\n the extent of her self-delusion \\n was inconclusive due to her \\n efforts to sexualize encounter \\n with experimenter.\\n\\n Marrow's voice continues on in his assessment, but Nell isn't \\n hearing anything anymore.\\n\\n She dies inside. Her world upside down. She falls into a chair, \\n and all we can hear of Marrow is the cold, analytical tone, his \\n garbled jargon.\\n\\n MARROW (OC)\\n \",\n \"did find his Watts, a horrifying sight.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Oh my God it's Watts.\\n\\n As at the same time out of the mouth from the sculpture erupts a \\n river of blood, scaring the hell out of them. Their clothes \\n splattered with blood, Marrow quickly leads them out of there.\\n\\n INT. LOCKED ROOM - NURSERY - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell stands there in the darkness, sensing the expanse of the room,\\n turning...\",\n \"Marrow's mouth opens. Luke stands\\n speechless. They're stricken by the sight: Nell SCREAMING, held by \\n the headboard as the deformed ceiling dips over her, the room \\n THRUSTING at her rhythmically. Nell and Theo make EYE CONTACT.\\n\\n THEO\\n Oh, Jesus.\\n\\n Marrow recovers, reaches out for Nell, and the FACE in the ceiling\\n turns on him. The GAZE stops Marrow in his\",\n \"her, and she lands sitting. Theo and \\n Marrow get to her side fast.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n -- he didn't kill her she killed \\n him and ran away with her baby --\\n\\n Marrow grabs her face. It's gray, her eyes glazing over.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Get a blanket!\\n\\n THEO\\n It's okay... we're all here...\\n\\n Luke races out. Theo, scared, looks\",\n \" there a moment. Then looks in.\\n\\n He squats and tries to open the ash-drop. It doesn't budge; it's\\n jammed by the poker Nell dropped in.\\n\\n Marrow considers, then shakes his head, feels stupid for even coming\\n in to check.\\n\\n Suddenly his CELL PHONE RINGS, startling him.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Shit.\\n (answering the\\n phone)\\n Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Marrow\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\n Nell lies in her bed asleep, the room dark except for the last,\\n guttering end of one of the candles. It goes out.\\n\\n A FAINT SOUND. LONG, LOW, like the inarticulate murmur of a dozen\\n madmen. Nell stirs. Her eyes open. She hears the sound.\\n\\n The wall on the opposite side of the room catches the pale gloom \\n from the window. The twisting figures in the plaster, the low-\\n relief\",\n \" At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\\n\\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \\n if the House itself is breathing.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \\n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still \",\n \"\\n and Nell heard him. She thought \\n it was ghosts. Let's go look for \\n him again.\\n\\n MARROW\\n No. If he's lost somewhere in the \\n house... he'll have to stay lost \\n until tomorrow, until the night is \\n over. What we have to do now is \\n be together, with Nell.\\n\\n And they go. Three scared people.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S BATH\",\n \"\\n she does --\\n\\n -- something MOVES in the fireplace. So fleeting Nell can barely \\n see it, and we only catch a frame of it. But the iron MESH CURTAIN \\n hanging in front of the hearth is STILL SWAYING.\\n\\n Nell stands there FROZEN. The massive fireplace LOOMS before her, \\n like a monstrous mouth, black as pitch beyond the black metal \\n curtains.\\n\\n The swaying metal scrapes over brick floor.\",\n \"the house is carved, \\n filigreed, painted or ornamented in wild, ornate fashion. It \\n overwhelms the eye.\\n\\n NELL\\n Wow...\\n\\n She turns around, sets her suitcase on the marble floor. A short\\n hallway straight ahead seems to let onto some vast space, dimly \\n lit.\\n\\n And then Nell hears a SOUND. Carrying through the empty halls from\\n some distant place: a low, plaintive MOAN.\\n\\n Nell freezes\",\n \"but Nell shudders.\\n\\n MARY\\n I think there's more to the story. \\n This house has its own music, \\n Doctor Marrow, I can play it for \\n you, I can hear it.\\n\\n Mary plays, channeling unholy music from the house, from the walls,\\n from the curtain, from the air. Her fingers fly down the harp to \\n the THICKEST WIRE and --\\n\\n -- TANG! Like a steel whip the\",\n \"s seeing.\\n Over the sound of the wind outside, there's something at the very\\n highest edge of hearing.\\n\\n She stops five feet from the mantle. The swaying light catches the\\n rich tones of wood. Then darkens. Illuminates it again. Darkens. \\n The carvings of the playing CHILDREN in the wood SEEM TO MOVE.\\n\\n Nell stares in drunken fascination. And as the first fear begins to\\n rise in her throat, the wind dies down and in\",\n \"tries to see what else is in here \\n in the dark, she begins to make out WHITE SHROUDED SHAPES.\\n\\n Against the wall. A bed covered in a sheet. A table beside it. A \\n HAND BELL. A CANE.\\n\\n <u>Just like Nell's sick room at home</u>. Nell realizes it, covers her\\n mouth.\\n\\n The furniture is in EXACTLY the same position, though the sheets\\n covering the pieces are stained, FAR OLD\",\n \" Nell stares in drunken fascination. And as the first fear begins to\\n rise in her throat, the wind dies down and in its place there is the\\n FAINTEST TRACE OF CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER. Nell's reaction changes... \\n to awe.\\n\\n Tentative, her hand goes out, shaking... and touches the mantle.\\n\\n It is hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \\n FACES engraved in the wood all seem\",\n \"She passes door after door, shadow after shadow, and as she nears \\n the end of the hall... there is no door here. Not within 20 feet \\n of, where we thought we just saw it.\\n\\n A WHISPER. VOICES. Nell backs away. And then LAUGHTER. Behind \\n her. It's coming from another stairwell. Very real... and very \\n human.\\n\\n INT. BACK STAIRWAY - DAY\\n\\n Nell looks down from the\",\n \", eight or nine feet, featureless, black, but in the\\n proportions of an enormous man with his head bowed, shoulders \\n stooped. And just like that, all it is...\\n\\n ...is a well of darkness and night once again. We don't even know \\n for sure what we just saw. But it is still there in that bar of \\n shadow.\\n\\n Nell goes rigid, not breathing, not seeing anything but the awful\\n presence. She is spellbound.\\n\\n BANG. A door\",\n \"His eyes are closed, unaware\\n his breath is fogging too.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell lies there afraid to move, afraid to make the faintest sound.\\n From the darkness above WOOD CREAKS. At first it seems like someone \\n is walking on the floor above. But it is coming from within the \\n room.\\n\\n The CARVINGS on the ceiling, the impossibly elaborate woodwork, ARE\\n MOVING. Incredibly slowly, with\",\n \"SECOND, A SHADOW IN THE CHAIR. Nell steps in front \\n of it, blocking our view.\\n\\n And when she steps past, there is only the dim, flaking image of the\\n chair, the natural shadow of the room.\\n\\n Nell goes around the desk, stands over it. The chair sits silent\\n behind her, shrouded.\\n\\n On the desk sits a set of ledgers marked with mill names -- Lowell,\\n Haverhill, Manchester -- and years: 1884, '8\",\n \" Bump. Bump. \\n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still \\n asleep, body moving by reflex.\\n\\n NELL\\n Coming, Mother!\\n\\n WHUMP. The noise jars her consciousness, lighting up her mind, VERY\\n REAL. Nell remembers where she is.\\n\\n Bump bang. It's coming from somewhere far off in the House. Nell\\n listens in cold dread.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n Nell makes her way past clusters of furniture, stops at the center.\\n Silence. An ENORMOUS FIREPLACE dominates one wall. Large enough \\n to stand in. An iron mesh SCREEN hangs in its mouth. Mantle and \\n chimney rise in dark, baroque masonry, becoming lost in the shadows \\n above.\\n\\n The MOANING sound. Nell spins away from the fireplace. The sound \\n rises from the door at the very back of the\",\n \"slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \\n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\\n\\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \\n outside, distorted in the old glass.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Someone is playing with you.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n MARROW\\n I don't know.\\n\\n NELL\\n It doesn't matter. Even if \",\n \"ANING sound. Nell spins away from the fireplace. The sound \\n rises from the door at the very back of the hall. Nell takes a \\n step toward it.\\n\\n NELL\\n Mrs. Dudley?\\n\\n She moves up to the door, puts a hand out to it. The MOANING \\n rises. Nell pushes through --\\n\\n INT. 1ST FLOOR HALLWAY TOWARDS KITCHEN - DAY (CONTINUOUS)\\n\\n\",\n \"--\\n\\n -- Nell is just vanishing around the corner, her rapid footsteps\\n echoing in the vaulted room.\\n\\n EXT. REAR LAWN - DAY\\n\\n Nell hurries away from the House, across the rear lawn, ashamed at\\n herself as much as she is spooked.\\n\\n In the distance Mr. Dudley is walking toward the House with cans of\\n paint cleaner an a ladder. Nell stops, watching him. He senses \\n her, pauses, and smiles.\\n\\n \",\n \"You know that, Nell.\\n\\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \\n so ugly if it were true.\\n\\n NELL\\n I don't know anything. Whoever \\n did this, please, just... just say \\n so... just... please... this is \\n cruel. Don't be cruel to me. I \\n can't stand it. You don't know \\n me.\\n\\n And she runs out.\\n\",\n \", but seeming poised to reach out, \\n trip someone, grab a sleeve.\\n\\n It is a nightmare House. Doing what it was made for.\\n\\n The BUMPING they've left behind seems to vanish up and into the\\n ceiling. It gives chase, on the floor above. Nell keeps looking \\n back, and every time she does the BUMPING seems to get more firm, \\n MORE LIKE A FOOTSTEP. Calm, Nell urges them on.\\n\\n NELL\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is in Nell's lap.\\n Nell sits on the bed in her sleeping tee-shirt and undies. Theo \\n looks at the book with her.\\n\\n THEO\\n That's so sad.\\n\\n NELL\\n There's hundreds of them. This \\n must be a record of the children \\n who died at the mills, like Luke\",\n \"ene, and a house \\n filled with children.\\n\\n NELL\\n All the carvings.\\n\\n MARROW\\n But there's a sad catch to the \\n story.\\n\\n MARY\\n What happened?\\n\\n MARROW\\n There were no children. Rene \\n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts\",\n \"bed, furniture, all in blue purple. An open \\n door gives a glimpse of a bathroom.\\n\\n A large fireplace dominates one wall. Its mantle is carved with \\n the faces of children, happy, at play, alive. Nell touches the \\n wood, loving.\\n\\n NELL\\n They're so beautiful. Aren't \\n they?\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n I've seen 'em. Lot to dust.\\n\\n NELL\\n\",\n \" Nell stares in drunken fascination. And as the first fear begins to\\n rise in her throat, the wind dies down and in its place there is the\\n FAINTEST TRACE OF CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER. Nell's reaction changes... \\n to awe.\\n\\n Tentative, her hand goes out, shaking... and touches the mantle.\\n\\n It is hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \\n FACES engraved in the wood all seem\",\n \"\\n Marrow, Theo and Luke, stricken silent by her entry. Looks of shock \\n on their faces. Nell just stands there. A beat. And then it pours \\n out of her, hysterical.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n He hunted all those children in \\n here. The dead children, Josiah \\n and Elizabeth and all of them... \\n from the books... he took them up \\n here... he played games... the \\n \",\n \"you think I did that. I \\n didn't! Go to the great hall and \\n look in the fireplace!\\n\\n She starts to laugh. Marrow gently presses Nell down, tucking the\\n blanket around her.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Why would we want to do that, \\n Nell?\\n\\n NELL\\n Because that's where he burned \\n them up, the child laborers from \\n his mills! Because that's where\",\n \" NELL\\n After Rene... after she killed \\n herself... he turned into a \\n monster. He did fill the house \\n with children... he did, but... \\n they weren't laughing...\\n\\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \\n a padded bench on one side of the room.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, what happened?\\n\\n NELL\\n Carolyn showed me where she hid \",\n \" died... How did you die?\\n\\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\\n\\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \\n see the book.\\n\\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\\n\\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is\",\n \"\\n day. There's the same symbol on the graves of the children, a \\n cherub of death. We've seen this image before. Nell backs out of \\n the cemetery, afraid.\\n\\n INT. MEZZANINE - DAY\\n\\n Nell hurries down the mezzanine to the doorway which leads to the \\n Red Parlor.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n She stands there a beat staring in at the volumes upon volumes of\\n books. Nell\",\n \"tries to see what else is in here \\n in the dark, she begins to make out WHITE SHROUDED SHAPES.\\n\\n Against the wall. A bed covered in a sheet. A table beside it. A \\n HAND BELL. A CANE.\\n\\n <u>Just like Nell's sick room at home</u>. Nell realizes it, covers her\\n mouth.\\n\\n The furniture is in EXACTLY the same position, though the sheets\\n covering the pieces are stained, FAR OLD\",\n \"that's where he burned \\n them up, the child laborers from \\n his mills! Because that's where \\n their bones are! He killed\\n <i>hundreds</i>. He took them here and\\n he killed them. Their bones are \\n in the fireplace!\\n\\n Nell sobs. The others exchange looks at this. It sounds so hollow, \\n so delusional, it makes Marrow look so right.\\n\\n MARROW\\n \",\n \"\\n and Nell heard him. She thought \\n it was ghosts. Let's go look for \\n him again.\\n\\n MARROW\\n No. If he's lost somewhere in the \\n house... he'll have to stay lost \\n until tomorrow, until the night is \\n over. What we have to do now is \\n be together, with Nell.\\n\\n And they go. Three scared people.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S BATH\",\n \"1, 1880. And its graven commandment, so familiar, so\\n comforting, now rings with terrible, malevolent promise:\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n Suffer the little children unto \\n me.\\n\\n There are three more grave stones, and after clearing away the \\n brush, they too show that the babies died after a few hours, or a \\n day. There's the same symbol on the graves of the children, a \\n cherub of death. We'\",\n \", bare feet flying, covering her face\\n from MIRRORS left and right. She stumbles into --\\n\\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)\\n\\n -- the greenhouse where she slips on the marble. She kicks the door\\n shut behind her and lunges for the spiral staircase, her horror\\n driving her up and up, setting the rickety thing swinging. We HEAR\\n what Nell hears, the voices of children.\\n\\n VOICES OF CHILDRE\",\n \" At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\\n\\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \\n if the House itself is breathing.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \\n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still \",\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \"LEY\\n House is full of stories. If you \\n know how to read these things, \\n it's an open book. Just a \\n different library than the kind \\n you're used to.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n Why'd she kill herself?\\n\\n NELL\\n Yes.\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n (what other reason \\n is there?)\\n She\",\n \"\\n\\n Nell lies in her bed asleep, the room dark except for the last,\\n guttering end of one of the candles. It goes out.\\n\\n A FAINT SOUND. LONG, LOW, like the inarticulate murmur of a dozen\\n madmen. Nell stirs. Her eyes open. She hears the sound.\\n\\n The wall on the opposite side of the room catches the pale gloom \\n from the window. The twisting figures in the plaster, the low-\\n relief\",\n \"ANING sound. Nell spins away from the fireplace. The sound \\n rises from the door at the very back of the hall. Nell takes a \\n step toward it.\\n\\n NELL\\n Mrs. Dudley?\\n\\n She moves up to the door, puts a hand out to it. The MOANING \\n rises. Nell pushes through --\\n\\n INT. 1ST FLOOR HALLWAY TOWARDS KITCHEN - DAY (CONTINUOUS)\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n column, more crosses. And more. Her eyes flick back and forth. \\n The crosses are paired with entries for CHILD. She looks their \\n names...\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n Erin, Peter and Sean and Emily and \\n Elizabeth... who are you? And \\n you? What happened to you? You \\n died... How did you die?\\n\\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores\"\n ],\n [\n \"In the night...\\n\\n The DOOR BAMS SHUT with a concussion that rocks the entire room,\\n sweeping Luke's jacket under it. The HANDLES TURN, LOCK DOWN.\\n\\n Stunned. All stunned.\\n\\n A RUSH OF AIR. The House EXHALES. Silence. And then CREEEEAK. \\n They cast their eyes back up the stairs.\\n\\n BUMP BUMP. Far-off sounds, hair-raising, of infinite variety, carry\\n down\",\n \" At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\\n\\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \\n if the House itself is breathing.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \\n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still \",\n \" We can't hide in here! We won't \\n make it til morning.\\n\\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\\n\\n NELL\\n I know.\\n\\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \\n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \\n and they all look down in fear toward the great\",\n \"hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \\n FACES engraved in the wood all seem to be peering up at her, hands\\n outstretched for her, hopeful.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATES - NIGHT\\n\\n The enormous LOCKED gates are silhouetted against the moonlit sky. \\n The chain is dangling in the wind.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the\",\n \"a door on the right, and then stops dead. Staring.\\n\\n The shut, dark, door, the one that scared Nell and Theo earlier,\\n awaits them at the end. Ominous.\\n\\n Nell approaches. Closer and closer. The door nears.\\n\\n Nell wraps her arms tightly about herself and try's to open the \\n door. It's locked. Her BREATH FOGS THE AIR. She doesn't notice \\n it. But then she suddenly GAG\",\n \", eight or nine feet, featureless, black, but in the\\n proportions of an enormous man with his head bowed, shoulders \\n stooped. And just like that, all it is...\\n\\n ...is a well of darkness and night once again. We don't even know \\n for sure what we just saw. But it is still there in that bar of \\n shadow.\\n\\n Nell goes rigid, not breathing, not seeing anything but the awful\\n presence. She is spellbound.\\n\\n BANG. A door\",\n \"halfway across the room, looking back to make sure they're \\n with him --\\n\\n -- and Nell digs her heels in, jerking Marrow and Theo to a stop. \\n She stares. The others follow her gaze.\\n\\n She's looking down the connecting hall, out to the entry at the \\n front doors. They're open.\\n\\n NELL\\n In the night...\\n\\n The DOOR BAMS SHUT with a concussion that rocks the entire room,\\n sweeping Luke'\",\n \"\\n ever darker. The House's hellish carvings glare as she passes, \\n grinning, taunting. She rages on, oblivious until she rounds a \\n final corner --\\n\\n INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE LOCKED ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n -- into the long, dark hall leading to the LOCKED ROOM. The \\n STATUARY peer down on her. Dead faces. Blind marble eyes. As she \\n turns, the heads and eyes turn imperceptibly\",\n \"door to lock it, too close \\n to run.\\n\\n The doorknob TURNS, but just as the door starts to open NELL FLAILS\\n FORWARD AND SHOOTS THE DEADBOLT HOME.\\n\\n The door jams against it. Nell jumps back. Theo grabs her back \\n into --\\n\\n INT. THEO'S ROOM - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)\\n\\n -- her bedroom and slams the door. A long, deadly silent moment.\\n\",\n \"His eyes are closed, unaware\\n his breath is fogging too.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell lies there afraid to move, afraid to make the faintest sound.\\n From the darkness above WOOD CREAKS. At first it seems like someone \\n is walking on the floor above. But it is coming from within the \\n room.\\n\\n The CARVINGS on the ceiling, the impossibly elaborate woodwork, ARE\\n MOVING. Incredibly slowly, with\",\n \"d)\\n No, no, you leave them alone!\\n\\n And the griffin turns back into brass. Marrow and Theo unaware of \\n what happened behind them. They have to get out of there.\\n\\n INT. SECOND FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell leads Marrow and Theo down the dark hallway, the twisted \\n woodwork along the walls frozen, but seeming poised to reach out, \\n trip someone, grab a sleeve.\\n\\n It is a nightmare House. Doing\",\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \"on \\n the balusters are all turned UP THE STAIRWAY, eyes starting in fear.\\n Waiting for something to walk down out of that blackness.\\n\\n INT. HALL OUTSIDE LOCKED ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Eyes. Eyes of all the mythological figures. STARING down the long,\\n black hallway. Awaiting something. Afraid.\\n\\n At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\",\n \"slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \\n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\\n\\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \\n outside, distorted in the old glass.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Someone is playing with you.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n MARROW\\n I don't know.\\n\\n NELL\\n It doesn't matter. Even if \",\n \"of\\n immense stone pillars. Between them, a steel GATE as high as the \\n wall, chained and padlocked.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATE - DAY\\n\\n The gate stands immense. Silent. Forbidding. Beyond them a \\n gravel drive curves away through the trees. Nell kills her car, \\n gets out, instructions in hand. No one in sight. A long beat. \\n She reaches in and blows the HORN.\\n\\n The HORN\",\n \"HALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \\n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \\n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \\n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\\n\\n EXT. GATE - DA\",\n \"entry as Luke puts his \\n jacket over Nell's shoulders. Marrow stops, looks back up the \\n stairs.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Wait a second! Wait!\\n\\n All there is are the sounds of Nell, Luke and Theo making for the \\n hall to the entry. The House is silent.\\n\\n LUKE\\n No.\\n\\n Luke goes out. But Nell pauses, stopping Theo with her.\\n\\n The House is quiet. Marrow's hand still\",\n \"collapsing, twisting in a\\n deafening hail of steel and glass.\\n\\n The massive gate has BENT itself AROUND the car, holding it in its\\n steel-grip.\\n\\n EXT. GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell understands, the house will not let her go. She turns away \\n from the gate, faces the House, mesmerized by the beauty in this\\n monstrosity. The House is calling her back, and Nell is drawn \\n towards it. She starts walking...\\n\",\n \"Nell walks through the row of dark statues. Carved faces watch her\\n pass.\\n\\n INT. HALL OUTSIDE LOCKED ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell stands before the threshold of the horrific doors, once locked,\\n now inexplicably OPEN. The mythological frieze on the door split in\\n half, a world cut in two, a seal broken. Like something has come \\n out of its tomb.\\n\\n Nell steps into the blackness.\\n\\n INT. THEO'S ROOM\",\n \"s locked. Her BREATH FOGS THE AIR. She doesn't notice \\n it. But then she suddenly GAGS. With a look of horror she recoils \\n from the door, choking, covering her face.\\n\\n Then Theo smells it. The women are both sick from the smell.\\n\\n THEO (cont'd)\\n Oh my God, what is it? Oh, the \\n smell... ohhh.\\n\\n Marrow comes into the hallway. He sees them from\"\n ],\n [\n \"snaps shut again, taking Luke's\\n head off his body.\\n\\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like a puppet \\n with its strings cut.\\n\\n Nell, Marrow and Theo stand there. Not sure of what just happened,\\n their minds unable to accept it.\\n\\n A sound comes up in Theo's throat. A sob. A horrified whimper. \\n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \\n obvious will make it\",\n \"ified whimper. \\n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \\n obvious will make it real:\\n\\n MARROW\\n Luke.\\n\\n BANG. The blood-splattered LION'S HEAD drops open. Luke's head \\n falls out.\\n\\n Theo SCREAMS and SCREAMS again. Nell backs away with Marrow, almost\\n has the presence of mind to drag them away, but --\\n\\n -- CLANG! The A\",\n \" Crain)\\n No! No! Let them go!\\n\\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to prevent it. Luke\\n stands up, has time to give her a look.\\n\\n And then the LION'S HEAD FLUE drops open behind him. Luke looks \\n back into its iron eyes --\\n\\n -- and with SHOCKING SPEED the FLUE snaps shut again, taking Luke's\\n head off his body.\\n\\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like\",\n \"of the room. They stare at him, appalled, afraid. Knowing \\n he has done something wrong.\\n\\n Luke stops. Maybe fifteen feet away. He sees their expressions.\\n\\n LUKE\\n What?\\n\\n Nell looks over at the burning tapestries. Heat sears the stone,\\n blackens the carved figures in the woodwork.\\n\\n The ruddy light casts deep shadows throughout the room.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n We'll get out after this\",\n \"of cloth fall to the floor and go out, there is \\n utter silence.\\n\\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n Luke looks at them helplessly. An awful, impending beat. Without\\n warning, the huge PERSIAN CARPET he's standing on JERKS out from \\n under him. Luke falls on his stomach.\\n\\n Stunned, Luke looks straight into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \\n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth\",\n \"getting any closer than ten feet, and he's \\n looking back at the gas tank.\\n\\n Luke gets the seatbelt off, tries to open the door but it's warped\\n shut. He struggles to get out from behind the wheel. Sparks jump \\n from the battery. Gas shoots out of the fuel pump onto the \\n shattered window. He knows he's in trouble.\\n\\n THEO\\n Hurry. The gas! Luke... The gas!\\n\\n Finally Luke gets free of the wheel\",\n \"crawls out onto the trunk.\\n\\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow hurries around the back of the car, staying clear of the lake\\n of gas spreading about it. Luke rolls off. Marrow helps him up, \\n and gets him away a safe distance.\\n\\n LUKE\\n I'm okay. Okay. Just my chest. \\n Just my wind knocked out.\\n\\n Marrow looks up at the gate. It is even more impassible than before\\n with the\",\n \"\\n\\n INT. NELL'S BATHROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow lunges into the bathroom, thrown from sleep as Luke stares in\\n impotent shock. Theo is there behind Marrow an instant later.\\n\\n MARROW\\n What is it?\\n\\n Luke can't make any words come out. Marrow shoves him aside, grabs \\n the doorknob and thrashes at it.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Help me!\\n\\n He br\",\n \"her, and she lands sitting. Theo and \\n Marrow get to her side fast.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n -- he didn't kill her she killed \\n him and ran away with her baby --\\n\\n Marrow grabs her face. It's gray, her eyes glazing over.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Get a blanket!\\n\\n THEO\\n It's okay... we're all here...\\n\\n Luke races out. Theo, scared, looks\",\n \"\\n Marrow, Theo and Luke, stricken silent by her entry. Looks of shock \\n on their faces. Nell just stands there. A beat. And then it pours \\n out of her, hysterical.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n He hunted all those children in \\n here. The dead children, Josiah \\n and Elizabeth and all of them... \\n from the books... he took them up \\n here... he played games... the \\n \",\n \", he LIGHTS a towering TAPESTRY on fire.\\n\\n He races from one to the next, lighting them. Theo and Nell help\\n Marrow up, back away as Luke shoots by.\\n\\n All the tapestries are ON FIRE, blazing up like torches.\\n\\n At last, his rage spent, heaving, he moves to join the others at the\\n center of the room. They stare at him, appalled, afraid. Knowing \\n he has done something wrong.\\n\\n Luke stops\",\n \" Behind them. \\n At the door to the hall.\\n\\n LUKE (OC)\\n Hey! I heard screaming...\\n\\n THEO\\n Luke.\\n\\n She grabs for the door and lets Luke in.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell's room stands silent, dark. The door to the bathroom is shut. \\n The lock slides open. The door swings in. Luke stands there, the \\n two women behind him.\\n\\n Luke\",\n \"runs over \\n to help him and shoves the tire iron between the doors and PRIES. \\n Marrow throws the useless thing down and stands back.\\n\\n Luke joins him, and they shoulder block it together. But this door \\n is MASSIVE. There's no way.\\n\\n LUKE\\n No you bastard! Break!\\n\\n He roundhouse kicks it, hurts himself.\\n\\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \\n hand on her\",\n \"dy light casts deep shadows throughout the room.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n We'll get out after this wing \\n burns down. Let's go.\\n\\n But there's no need. The tapestries are consuming themselves too \\n fast to ignite the walls or ceiling. They all realize it. As the \\n last flaming scraps of cloth fall to the floor and go out, there is \\n utter silence.\\n\\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\\n\",\n \"\\n The lock slides open. The door swings in. Luke stands there, the \\n two women behind him.\\n\\n Luke turns on the lights. The room is perfectly ordinary, no sign \\n that anything has been in here. The door to the hall is shut. Nell \\n reacts.\\n\\n INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell and Theo, wrapped in blankets, sit over mugs of tea at the\\n kitchen table. Marrow, across from them, clicks off his digital\\n \",\n \"kitchen. Big windows all along the \\n wall. Huge windows. Marrow follows him in, Luke's fear turning \\n into a vicious smile as he sees the towering windows.\\n\\n Nell and Theo are right behind in time to see Luke and Marrow \\n scooping up a table and chair respectively.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Watch out!\\n\\n The men rush the same window, side-by-side, and let the heavy pieces\\n of furniture fly from ten feet.\\n\\n The WINDOW\",\n \" Luke glances over. Theo lies \\n on her bed. Marrow is slouched in a chair.\\n\\n Luke settles back against the wall.\\n\\n The HOUSE EXHALES, and the breath of the house is like the poppy \\n field in the Wizard of OZ; it brings on sleep.\\n\\n INT. THEO'S ROOM - MUCH LATER THAT NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow is struggling to stay awake and his eyes finally close. Theo\\n breathes hard in the grips of some\",\n \"\\n\\n Luke grimaces, shifts into low, pours on the gas.\\n\\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n The car fishes back and forth against the gate, hurling a shower of\\n gravel on the other cars off to the side of the road. Marrow, Nell \\n and Theo move back.\\n\\n One of the Buick's headlights breaks. The grill mashes in. For a \\n long moment the car struggles against the Gate. No good. Luke \\n eases\",\n \" lasts a few heartbeats.\\n\\n He looks away. A flicker of distress crosses Nell's face. And then \\n she realizes Marrow is looking at --\\n\\n -- Luke.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n You have to see something.\\n\\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - DAY\\n\\n Luke, Nell and Marrow mount the stairs, climb up and up. They find\\n Theo in the mezzanine staring at the wall at the painting. \",\n \"\\n\\n THEO\\n Hurry. The gas! Luke... The gas!\\n\\n Finally Luke gets free of the wheel. It's agonizing to watch... \\n The passenger door is jammed shut too.\\n\\n He squirms into the back seat. The rear doors are in the same\\n condition as the front. But the rear window is blown out. He \\n crawls out onto the trunk.\\n\\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow hurries around the back of the\"\n ],\n [\n \"into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \\n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth and sends \\n Luke flying through the chain curtains.\\n\\n The others are speechless. They can do nothing but watch as Luke \\n lays there on the ashdrop. A long moment.\\n\\n NELL\\n (to the house, to\\n Crain)\\n No! No! Let them go!\\n\\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to\",\n \" We can't hide in here! We won't \\n make it til morning.\\n\\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\\n\\n NELL\\n I know.\\n\\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \\n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \\n and they all look down in fear toward the great\",\n \" looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \\n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\\n\\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \\n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\\n\\n NELL\\n Finally.\\n\\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\\n\\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is\",\n \"faces as shattered bits of bone, loose\\n teeth pelt them. Nell is immune.\\n\\n They run up the Grand Staircase toward the top and finally it can't\\n reach them anymore.\\n\\n INT. MEZZANINE - NIGHT\\n\\n They look out at the full scope of Crain's horror.\\n\\n THEO\\n Oh God, we can't get out!\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell, what do we do?\\n\\n NELL\\n He played hide and seek\",\n \"it, hurts himself.\\n\\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \\n hand on her shoulder.\\n\\n NELL\\n It's not safe for you anymore. \\n The children need me, and Crain is \\n doing everything he can to keep me \\n from them.\\n\\n Theo stares, appalled. Marrow looks around, puts his hand up to \\n shush everyone. The HOUSE MOANS, the BUMPING growing, searching.\",\n \"around \\n us. Don't get in the way, please.\\n\\n Nell cinches the shoelace tight around his wrist.\\n\\n Luke throws down the chair, giving up on the window.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Shit! All right, you \\n sonofabitch...\\n\\n As he looks up at another one of Crain's painting hanging on the \\n wall. Nell Theo with Marrow straggle toward the great hall.\\n\\n INT. VESTIBULE TO\",\n \"they come out of Crain's study Theo stops at the top of the \\n stairs, Nell behind her.\\n\\n THEO\\n Jeez.\\n\\n NELL\\n I know.\\n\\n They stare out at Hugh Crain, the cracking and shadowing of the \\n swirls of oil that compose his face. The figure is daunting, but \\n dead. Just a painting. Four different hallways lead into the \\n mezzanine, all dark and endless in the stray light\",\n \"\\n The SHAPE hovers there, silent. Air and shadow distort around it. \\n The carved animal heads on the Newell posts and walls loll back and \\n forth, alive then not-alive. Pieces of furniture stamp in fury, try \\n to animate themselves, but can't find limbs that work.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n Come on, Hugh Crain, you know what \\n to do. We've both been here \\n before.\\n\\n The\",\n \"Hugh Crain. Inside it's ornate golden \\n framework, distinctive little cherubs are embedded. Cherubs of \\n Death... She runs her fingers over it.\\n\\n THEO\\n Maybe you shouldn't touch --\\n\\n Theo twirls out of the room, Nell, anxious, behind her.\\n\\n INT. MEZZANINE - DUSK\\n\\n As they come out of Crain's study Theo stops at the top of the \\n stairs, Nell behind her.\\n\\n THE\",\n \", panting... There \\n is nothing in the room. No Theo. She looks at her hand.\\n\\n The eye on the wall is gone.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n Oh, God. Who was holding my hand?\\n\\n Nell snaps around. There on the window, SPREADING before her eyes \\n the frost on the glass is melting into a HORRIFYING FACE. The face \\n of CRAIN.\\n\\n Nell recoils in prick\",\n \"paint cleaner an a ladder. Nell stops, watching him. He senses \\n her, pauses, and smiles.\\n\\n Nell reacts. Sees the ladder. Then Mr. Dudley disappears into the\\n House.\\n\\n Nell once again starts to hurry away, but looking back over her\\n shoulder, almost impales herself on the rusted iron fence of --\\n\\n EXT. FAMILY CEMETERY - DAY (CONTINUOUS)\\n\\n -- the tiny Crain family cemetery. \",\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \"His eyes are closed, unaware\\n his breath is fogging too.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell lies there afraid to move, afraid to make the faintest sound.\\n From the darkness above WOOD CREAKS. At first it seems like someone \\n is walking on the floor above. But it is coming from within the \\n room.\\n\\n The CARVINGS on the ceiling, the impossibly elaborate woodwork, ARE\\n MOVING. Incredibly slowly, with\",\n \" died... How did you die?\\n\\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\\n\\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \\n see the book.\\n\\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\\n\\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is\",\n \" Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\\n\\n NELL\\n Hugh Crain. He's in the house. \\n He's still here...\\n\\n Theo pulls back, goes very still. The first hint of fear in her \\n eyes.\\n\\n THEO\\n No.\\n\\n Marrow sees the panic working on her, gives her a stern look:\\n\\n MARROW\\n Theo! You too. Listen to me.\\n\\n The command der\",\n \"out in front now, bounding down a \\n half flight ahead. Marrow and Theo support Nell between them.\\n\\n Nell looks up at the hooded painting of Crain, but is spun around \\n and taken down the next flight.\\n\\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell, Marrow and Theo reach the bottom of the stairs and pause. \\n Luke is halfway across the room, looking back to make sure they're \\n with him --\\n\\n -- and Nell digs her heels in,\",\n \"the \\n house, and about Hugh Crain... but \\n I'm asking you not to repeat it.\\n\\n LUKE\\n I can keep a secret.\\n\\n They go in. The house is outlined by the sky and clouds and the \\n moon.\\n\\n INT. MEZZANINE - NIGHT\\n\\n Luke catches up with Nell and Theo as he reaches the mezzanine. The\\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\\n behind.\\n\\n \",\n \"HALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \\n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \\n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \\n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\\n\\n EXT. GATE - DA\",\n \"with a sheet, only its lion-head arm rests protruding from\\n underneath. Nell realizes it's:\\n\\n NELL\\n Crain's study.\\n\\n She moves for the desk. An ENORMOUS MIRROR, its silver inner \\n surface flaking with age, tarnished, reflects the room, the desk, \\n and FOR A SPLIT SECOND, A SHADOW IN THE CHAIR. Nell steps in front \\n of it, blocking our view.\\n\\n\",\n \" here... and he won't let go of \\n them!\\n\\n Marrow grabs her face.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell!\\n\\n Luke rushes in with a blanket. Theo covers Nell and then holds her,\\n gently.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Look at me, Nell. Look at me!\\n\\n Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\\n\\n NELL\\n Hugh Crain. He's\"\n ],\n [\n \"?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where we're going?\\n\\n MARROW\\n Yes. It's perfect, isn't it?\\n\\n Mary studies the picture, and she can't answer him. In her \\n glasses, we get the thinnest reflection of the photograph, a \\n glimpse of dark brick and high chimneys.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\\n\\n Nell,\",\n \"\\n with the stipulation that it never \\n be altered or sold. Crain's \\n executors made good investments \\n and for the last hundred and \\n twenty years, Hill House has taken \\n care of itself.\\n\\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\\n\\n TODD\\n So what's this study all about \\n anyway? Mary described\",\n \" Dr. Marrow, what is this house?\\n\\n When she says this, we should be seeing her from an odd perspective,\\n the house's POV.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n There was once a king who built a \\n palace. The King's name was Hugh \\n Crain. A hundred and thirty years \\n ago, when the Merrimack Valley was \\n the center of American industry, \\n Hugh Crain made two hundred \\n million\",\n \"\\n\\n MARROW\\n In a way.\\n\\n Marrow studies the page. We go into the whiteness of the page to:\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Where we find Theo. The House is beautiful today, it's sunny, there\\n are flowers outside, the mood has changed. Theo is now softened, \\n she's found something better than what she had. She goes into the \\n house.\\n\\n INT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\",\n \"slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \\n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\\n\\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \\n outside, distorted in the old glass.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Someone is playing with you.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n MARROW\\n I don't know.\\n\\n NELL\\n It doesn't matter. Even if \",\n \"crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \\n that we can't see.\\n\\n MARY\\n What's this?\\n (has to get his\\n attention)\\n What's this... this picture?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where\",\n \"him say this line...\\n\\n MARROW\\n Was it?\\n\\n But he should just look at her, and say the same thing with his \\n eyes.\\n\\n We pull back.\\n\\n EXT. BERKSHIRE HILLS - DAY (AERIAL)\\n\\n The summer hills lie green, passing fast underneath. Clearings loom\\n out of the forest ahead. And there, its sprawling stone in the\\n sunshine, rises Hill House.\\n\\n FADE OUT.\\n\",\n \"have to hear me. Let me \\n explain what's happening to you.\\n (beat)\\n You're participating in a study on \\n hysteria.\\n\\n Everyone but Marrow REACTS.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n I've given you a powerful \\n suggestion that you're in a \\n haunted house. I picked Hill \\n House because it fits the \\n expectations. It was my... it was \\n my\",\n \"\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell, what do we do?\\n\\n NELL\\n He played hide and seek with the \\n children. That's how he built the \\n house.\\n\\n Marrow stares at her, trembling. He glances around at the winding\\n labyrinth of house. Impossible.\\n\\n MARROW\\n We can't hide in here! We won't \\n make it til morning.\\n\\n Nell looks at him\",\n \"cont'd)\\n Well, why don't we get some dinner \\n while we're waiting for him?\\n (beat, backing \\n through the doors \\n to the Great Hall)\\n Welcome to Hill House, everyone.\\n\\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow leads the way across the hall. The others check out the\\n furnishings as they pass.\\n\\n TODD\\n These old Victorian houses are \\n great, aren't they?\",\n \"\\n Theo shakes her head. They aren't Marrow's. Marrow takes the keys \\n from Nell, turns them over.\\n\\n THEO\\n Maybe they're Mary's.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Mary came with me.\\n\\n NELL\\n When I first got here I saw a gray \\n car pull up. I thought it was one \\n of us.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\\n They stand on the front\",\n \"ene, and a house \\n filled with children.\\n\\n NELL\\n All the carvings.\\n\\n MARROW\\n But there's a sad catch to the \\n story.\\n\\n MARY\\n What happened?\\n\\n MARROW\\n There were no children. Rene \\n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts\",\n \"Even now, Marrow can't believe what he just saw, but Theo's voice\\n brings him back. He whirls, grabs onto Nell, helps Theo drag her \\n out.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY/GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n Four cars sit behind the massive, locked gate, as far from Hill \\n House as possible. Marrow paces past the fence, staring out, the \\n road beyond leading out of this place, so close...\\n\\n Luke digs with a pen knife\",\n \"about the \\n house?\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you.\\n\\n Grinning, Dudley steps aside and Nell rolls through. And at that \\n he just grins wider. Nell pulls away. Disturbed, she watches him \\n in the rearview mirror. She turns and in front of her sprawls Hill \\n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \\n dwarf all others: towering, eye-\",\n \"UKE\\n Greetings.\\n\\n And Mary enters. Crossing the threshold, she catches her breath, \\n and when she comes into the hall and sees everyone, she also sees \\n the house in its detail. And she has a bad feeling.\\n\\n Marrow is still putting everyone at ease.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Eleanor, how was the drive?\\n\\n NELL\\n You can call me Nell, Dr. Marrow.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell. \",\n \"Hill \\n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \\n dwarf all others: towering, eye-like windows and the jaws of a \\n Grand Entry with carved ebony doors.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY - DAY\\n\\n The car rumbles up the drive toward the carport.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\\n\\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \\n carport. In the silence all we can hear\",\n \"here with you.\\n\\n Silence. The others are embarrassed by her sincerity. She's right,\\n Nell is not of their world.\\n\\n MARROW\\n We're glad you're here.\\n\\n He says this with enough sympathy for Theo to see his interest in \\n the girl in the thrift shop dress.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Why don't we move to another room?\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - NIGHT\\n\\n The H\",\n \"inations. You brought us \\n here to scare us. Insomnia, that \\n was just a decoy issue. You're \\n disgusting.\\n\\n NELL\\n Is this true? I've been \\n hypnotized?\\n\\n MARROW\\n I hadn't done a study of how group \\n fear affects individual \\n performance. Mass hysteria is \\n like a story, Nell. A communal \\n \",\n \"it, hurts himself.\\n\\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \\n hand on her shoulder.\\n\\n NELL\\n It's not safe for you anymore. \\n The children need me, and Crain is \\n doing everything he can to keep me \\n from them.\\n\\n Theo stares, appalled. Marrow looks around, puts his hand up to \\n shush everyone. The HOUSE MOANS, the BUMPING growing, searching.\",\n \"Marrow is the cold, analytical tone, his \\n garbled jargon.\\n\\n MARROW (OC)\\n One minute!\\n\\n It's Marrow, for real, about to enter. Nell clicks off the \\n recorder, drops it into the briefcase. Marrow is startled, not \\n expecting Nell to be sitting right next to his papers and briefcase.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Nell.\\n\\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead\"\n ],\n [\n \" Maybe you did it yourself.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n THEO\\n I don't know. You've been alone \\n for a long time, maybe you want \\n attention.\\n (pointing to \\n Marrow)\\n Maybe he did it...\\n\\n MARROW\\n I didn't. You know that, Nell.\\n\\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \\n so ugly if\",\n \"You know that, Nell.\\n\\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \\n so ugly if it were true.\\n\\n NELL\\n I don't know anything. Whoever \\n did this, please, just... just say \\n so... just... please... this is \\n cruel. Don't be cruel to me. I \\n can't stand it. You don't know \\n me.\\n\\n And she runs out.\\n\",\n \"you think I did that. I \\n didn't! Go to the great hall and \\n look in the fireplace!\\n\\n She starts to laugh. Marrow gently presses Nell down, tucking the\\n blanket around her.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Why would we want to do that, \\n Nell?\\n\\n NELL\\n Because that's where he burned \\n them up, the child laborers from \\n his mills! Because that's where\",\n \"elf reflected in its tarnished\\n surface. But there is something wrong with it. Nell steps across \\n to it.\\n\\n Her reflected self begins to SMILE. But SHE'S NOT SMILING! Nell\\n writhes in horror, but can't pull away from the mirror. In it, her\\n GRIN WIDENS, INSANE. <u>The bottom half of her face is someone else's</u>.\\n\\n BANG! Nell recoils. The sound breaks the\",\n \" NELL\\n After Rene... after she killed \\n herself... he turned into a \\n monster. He did fill the house \\n with children... he did, but... \\n they weren't laughing...\\n\\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \\n a padded bench on one side of the room.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, what happened?\\n\\n NELL\\n Carolyn showed me where she hid \",\n \"\\n He's trying to protect the \\n experiment. Personally, I don't \\n think he's got a large enough \\n sample for valid results, but as \\n long as the money's good, and the \\n food is good, I'm in.\\n\\n He heads off. Theo turns to find Nell staring at the animal heads \\n on the stairs. Theo touches her. She starts.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, it was an accident.\",\n \" NELL\\n Who did this? Why are you doing \\n this? I don't know any of you. \\n You don't know me. Why are you \\n doing this to me?\\n\\n Luke shakes his head. Theo starts getting pissed. Marrow stands \\n there, arms folded, observing.\\n\\n LUKE\\n I didn't do it.\\n\\n THEO\\n You could have.\\n\\n LUKE\\n So\",\n \"s face \\n is the faintest, most inappropriate SMILE. It sends a chill through \\n Nell.\\n\\n The album begins to slide down the shelf, and as it does, PAGES \\n FLIP, Rene's SMILE grows wider, her hair dishevelled, her eyes lit \\n with grinning insanity...\\n\\n Nell grabs the book just as it falls from the shelf.\\n\\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \\n \",\n \"that's where he burned \\n them up, the child laborers from \\n his mills! Because that's where \\n their bones are! He killed\\n <i>hundreds</i>. He took them here and\\n he killed them. Their bones are \\n in the fireplace!\\n\\n Nell sobs. The others exchange looks at this. It sounds so hollow, \\n so delusional, it makes Marrow look so right.\\n\\n MARROW\\n \",\n \" THEO\\n Nell, it makes sense. It all \\n makes sense. You and I, we were \\n scaring each other, working each \\n other up.\\n\\n NELL\\n -- but the painting!\\n\\n Nobody says anythlng. The silence tortures Nell.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n I know you think I did that. I \\n didn't! Go to the great hall and \\n look in the fireplace\",\n \"Dead on her. Nell stops. And with sudden\\n violence, she's WRENCHED out of the bed by whatever's beside her. \\n Nell hits the floor with a scream. She grabs at the table on this \\n side of the bed, pulling a lamp down on her, yanking at its chain.\\n\\n The room FLASHES into brilliance. Nell stands up, panting... There \\n is nothing in the room. No Theo. She looks at her hand.\\n\\n The eye on\",\n \" NELL (cont'd)\\n No...\\n\\n But the substance doesn't come from the ceiling.\\n\\n It is as if the oils on the PAINTING OF HUGH CRAIN have been boiled \\n by a heat gun and blasted off, running down from there. Hugh's face \\n is gone. In place of the face, the underlying ivory of the canvas \\n glares out... like a skull.\\n\\n Nell SCREAMS and runs away, the others calling out after her in \",\n \"sliver of sunlight showing \\n through. As her eyes adjust, she makes out the furnishings of a \\n late-nineteenth century office, Crain's secret office.\\n\\n The bookcases filled with business ledgers. The business ledgers \\n are stamped with the cherub of death.\\n\\n At the end is an enormous desk. Behind it a massive, carved chair\\n covered with a sheet, only its lion-head arm rests protruding from\\n underneath. Nell realizes it's:\\n\\n \",\n \"mouth.\\n\\n The furniture is in EXACTLY the same position, though the sheets\\n covering the pieces are stained, FAR OLDER.\\n\\n And on the wall, something in a frame is covered with a piece of\\n sheet.\\n\\n Nell approaches it in trepidation and removes the cloth. For a long\\n beat, all we see is her face as it goes slack. Understanding.\\n\\n The framed thing is a stitchery. It says: A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING,\\n EVERYTH\",\n \"The bottom half of her face is someone else's</u>.\\n\\n BANG! Nell recoils. The sound breaks the spell, knocking Nell back\\n from the mirror.\\n\\n BANG. BANG. BANG. Nell turns and runs.\\n\\n INT. HALL OF PILLARS - NIGHT\\n\\n The banging chases Nell into the hall of pillars. Nell turns to \\n face whatever it is that's coming after her. The BANGING \\n CRESC\",\n \"-- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is only from up here on the second \\n floor with this curtain open that the FACE is visible in the late-\\n day sunlight.\\n\\n Despite the artist's discretion, the lines in the man's skin, his\\n eyes, his posture, cry of unspeakable sickness.\\n\\n Unconsciously, Nell takes a step back. In the far b.g., near the \\n \",\n \".\\n\\n They all react to the sight of Nell at the precarious top -- with \\n her insanely happy smile. They think she's there to kill herself. \\n Just like Rene Crain.\\n\\n They all freak out in a chorus of 'Nell! No, Nell!'\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell! Don't move.\\n\\n Nell couldn't anyway. She just grins madly, tears running down her\\n face. Marrow grabs for the stairs,\",\n \"Nell stands there with her arms spread. A long moment.\\n\\n She opens her eyes.\\n\\n And then the woodwork LASHES OUT, grabs her from behind, slams her\\n back against the doors. THE BLOW HAS KILLED HER.\\n\\n We feel her bones break as she crumples, is drawn into the woodwork.\\n\\n And for a few seconds Nell's body just hangs there... and then it\\n gently falls down.\\n\\n Theo lets out a horrified cry as she runs toward\",\n \"'s hundreds of them. This \\n must be a record of the children \\n who died at the mills, like Luke \\n said.\\n\\n THEO\\n Before he painted your name over \\n Mister Crain.\\n\\n Theo hands her the bottle. Nell takes it, tops off her glass,\\n spilling. Her face is red. She grimaces as she tosses back a big\\n swallow.\\n\\n NELL\\n You really think it was Luke?\\n\\n \",\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\"\n ],\n [\n \"slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \\n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\\n\\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \\n outside, distorted in the old glass.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Someone is playing with you.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n MARROW\\n I don't know.\\n\\n NELL\\n It doesn't matter. Even if \",\n \" At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\\n\\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \\n if the House itself is breathing.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \\n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still \",\n \"HALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \\n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \\n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \\n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\\n\\n EXT. GATE - DA\",\n \"crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \\n that we can't see.\\n\\n MARY\\n What's this?\\n (has to get his\\n attention)\\n What's this... this picture?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where\",\n \"it, hurts himself.\\n\\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \\n hand on her shoulder.\\n\\n NELL\\n It's not safe for you anymore. \\n The children need me, and Crain is \\n doing everything he can to keep me \\n from them.\\n\\n Theo stares, appalled. Marrow looks around, puts his hand up to \\n shush everyone. The HOUSE MOANS, the BUMPING growing, searching.\",\n \" with you in person was the night \\n we met here.\\n\\n NELL\\n Then who called me?\\n\\n Hill House looms behind her, windows forming eyes, the carport a\\n gaping mouth.\\n\\n Nell's dismay becomes a cold, terrifying understanding, and she \\n turns and stares back up at the House.\\n\\n Luke comes up with Theo on the other side of the car.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell --\\n\\n LUKE\\n -- how much\",\n \", its handle hitting a spring. Nell recoils as the trapdoors \\n SNAP SHUT like a pair of jaws.\\n\\n INT. GROUND HALLWAY FLOOR - DUSK\\n\\n Nell stumbles down the hall, weeping in fear.\\n\\n NELL\\n Theo! Jim! Help!\\n\\n But instead she hears children voices, calling out for her.\\n\\n INT. CONFUSING SERIES OF ROOMS (THE MAZE) - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell\",\n \" We interpret everything \\n through it, make it fit the story. \\n I started our story when I gave \\n you the history of Hill House. \\n You've added to it. That's what \\n this experiment has all been \\n about. That's what it was about, \\n the experiment's over. I'm \\n pulling the plug. This is my \\n fault.\\n\\n NELL\\n It's not real? Cr\",\n \"The children Hugh \\n Crain built the house for. The \\n children he never had.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Come on. These are the typically \\n sentimental gestures of a depraved \\n industrialist.\\n\\n He puts his hand on a CHAIR, the back of which is heavily carved in\\n the motif he just described.\\n\\n Nell turns him an appalled look.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n Theo was working in the dining \",\n \"o softly moans over Nell.\\n\\n And as the camera pans up across the entry door, we see a new \\n carving in the sculpted doors. It is a woman and as we move in we \\n can see that she wears the same necklace as Nell...\\n\\n INT. HILL HOUSE FRONT DOORS, ENTRY - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n The HOUSE INHALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT\",\n \", bare feet flying, covering her face\\n from MIRRORS left and right. She stumbles into --\\n\\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)\\n\\n -- the greenhouse where she slips on the marble. She kicks the door\\n shut behind her and lunges for the spiral staircase, her horror\\n driving her up and up, setting the rickety thing swinging. We HEAR\\n what Nell hears, the voices of children.\\n\\n VOICES OF CHILDRE\",\n \"\\n with the stipulation that it never \\n be altered or sold. Crain's \\n executors made good investments \\n and for the last hundred and \\n twenty years, Hill House has taken \\n care of itself.\\n\\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\\n\\n TODD\\n So what's this study all about \\n anyway? Mary described\",\n \"What is \\n it about fences? Sometimes a \\n locked chain makes people on both \\n sides of the fence just a little \\n more comfortable. Why would that \\n be?\\n\\n He unwinds the enormous chain, heavy turn after heavy turn. The \\n gates swing in, revealing HILL HOUSE.\\n\\n NELL\\n Is there something about the \\n house?\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you\",\n \" Nell stares in drunken fascination. And as the first fear begins to\\n rise in her throat, the wind dies down and in its place there is the\\n FAINTEST TRACE OF CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER. Nell's reaction changes... \\n to awe.\\n\\n Tentative, her hand goes out, shaking... and touches the mantle.\\n\\n It is hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \\n FACES engraved in the wood all seem\",\n \"into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \\n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth and sends \\n Luke flying through the chain curtains.\\n\\n The others are speechless. They can do nothing but watch as Luke \\n lays there on the ashdrop. A long moment.\\n\\n NELL\\n (to the house, to\\n Crain)\\n No! No! Let them go!\\n\\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to\",\n \"ene, and a house \\n filled with children.\\n\\n NELL\\n All the carvings.\\n\\n MARROW\\n But there's a sad catch to the \\n story.\\n\\n MARY\\n What happened?\\n\\n MARROW\\n There were no children. Rene \\n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts\",\n \"hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \\n FACES engraved in the wood all seem to be peering up at her, hands\\n outstretched for her, hopeful.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATES - NIGHT\\n\\n The enormous LOCKED gates are silhouetted against the moonlit sky. \\n The chain is dangling in the wind.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the\",\n \"?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where we're going?\\n\\n MARROW\\n Yes. It's perfect, isn't it?\\n\\n Mary studies the picture, and she can't answer him. In her \\n glasses, we get the thinnest reflection of the photograph, a \\n glimpse of dark brick and high chimneys.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\\n\\n Nell,\",\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \" We can't hide in here! We won't \\n make it til morning.\\n\\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\\n\\n NELL\\n I know.\\n\\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \\n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \\n and they all look down in fear toward the great\"\n ],\n [\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \"slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \\n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\\n\\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \\n outside, distorted in the old glass.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Someone is playing with you.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n MARROW\\n I don't know.\\n\\n NELL\\n It doesn't matter. Even if \",\n \"about the \\n house?\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you.\\n\\n Grinning, Dudley steps aside and Nell rolls through. And at that \\n he just grins wider. Nell pulls away. Disturbed, she watches him \\n in the rearview mirror. She turns and in front of her sprawls Hill \\n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \\n dwarf all others: towering, eye-\",\n \" NELL\\n They sent me directions and I've \\n got a map, but it's kind of \\n confusing. Here... it's a place \\n called Hill House?\\n\\n His helpful attitude changes dramatically.\\n\\n GAS STATION ATTENDANT\\n Hill House.\\n\\n He takes the map book and tears out the page and crumples it up.\\n\\n NELL\\n What are you doing?\\n\\n GAS STATION ATTENDANT\\n You don\",\n \"?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where we're going?\\n\\n MARROW\\n Yes. It's perfect, isn't it?\\n\\n Mary studies the picture, and she can't answer him. In her \\n glasses, we get the thinnest reflection of the photograph, a \\n glimpse of dark brick and high chimneys.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\\n\\n Nell,\",\n \"wouldn't you be \\n leaving right this second? Why \\n wouldn't you be afraid? Really \\n afraid.\\n\\n NELL\\n Because I don't want to ruin \\n things. Because home is where the \\n heart is.\\n\\n Theo is chilled by this answer which would only make sense to \\n someone out of her mind.\\n\\n Nell looks up and sees the double staircase at the end of the\\n greenhouse... the one where Crain's wife\",\n \"You know that, Nell.\\n\\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \\n so ugly if it were true.\\n\\n NELL\\n I don't know anything. Whoever \\n did this, please, just... just say \\n so... just... please... this is \\n cruel. Don't be cruel to me. I \\n can't stand it. You don't know \\n me.\\n\\n And she runs out.\\n\",\n \"AY\\n\\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \\n carport. In the silence all we can hear is her breathing.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Her car sits in front of the house, tiny, alone. Its brake lights \\n go off.\\n\\n The finger-like pillars of the car port seem like a hand pinning \\n the car in place under the House's gaze.\\n\\n Nell gets out of the car.\\n\\n Nell stares,\",\n \"\\n and Nell heard him. She thought \\n it was ghosts. Let's go look for \\n him again.\\n\\n MARROW\\n No. If he's lost somewhere in the \\n house... he'll have to stay lost \\n until tomorrow, until the night is \\n over. What we have to do now is \\n be together, with Nell.\\n\\n And they go. Three scared people.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S BATH\",\n \"'s calm.\\n Terrifyingly calm. And in that moment, he realizes she's not out of\\n her mind. She just understands things beyond what he could possible\\n begin to understand.\\n\\n MARROW\\n What'll happen to us, Nell?\\n\\n NELL\\n Nothing, if you leave right now. \\n There's a war going on all around \\n us. Don't get in the way, please.\\n\\n Nell cinches the shoelace tight around\",\n \"FLOOR HALLWAY - DAY\\n\\n Nell emerges from the study, stands there a beat, lost. Then she\\n turns, resolute, and starts moving. Faster.\\n\\n INT. GREAT HALL - DAY\\n\\n Nell, blinded by tears, runs across the room toward the grand entry\\n and the exit... and stops.\\n\\n DOWN THE CONNECTING HALL, out in the grand entry, at the front \\n doors, are Mr. and Mrs. Dudley. Leaving for the\",\n \"HALL, out in the grand entry, at the front \\n doors, are Mr. and Mrs. Dudley. Leaving for the day. They stop. \\n Look at her.\\n\\n Nell, numb, gazes from the open door to Mrs. Dudley. Mr. Dudley \\n holds the door open as if in invitation. Nell could walk out right \\n now. This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\",\n \"collapsing, twisting in a\\n deafening hail of steel and glass.\\n\\n The massive gate has BENT itself AROUND the car, holding it in its\\n steel-grip.\\n\\n EXT. GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell understands, the house will not let her go. She turns away \\n from the gate, faces the House, mesmerized by the beauty in this\\n monstrosity. The House is calling her back, and Nell is drawn \\n towards it. She starts walking...\\n\",\n \" with you in person was the night \\n we met here.\\n\\n NELL\\n Then who called me?\\n\\n Hill House looms behind her, windows forming eyes, the carport a\\n gaping mouth.\\n\\n Nell's dismay becomes a cold, terrifying understanding, and she \\n turns and stares back up at the House.\\n\\n Luke comes up with Theo on the other side of the car.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell --\\n\\n LUKE\\n -- how much\",\n \"hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \\n FACES engraved in the wood all seem to be peering up at her, hands\\n outstretched for her, hopeful.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATES - NIGHT\\n\\n The enormous LOCKED gates are silhouetted against the moonlit sky. \\n The chain is dangling in the wind.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the\",\n \" We interpret everything \\n through it, make it fit the story. \\n I started our story when I gave \\n you the history of Hill House. \\n You've added to it. That's what \\n this experiment has all been \\n about. That's what it was about, \\n the experiment's over. I'm \\n pulling the plug. This is my \\n fault.\\n\\n NELL\\n It's not real? Cr\",\n \"I \\n can't stand it. You don't know \\n me.\\n\\n And she runs out.\\n\\n Nell grabs for the door to leave.\\n\\n She flings open the door. MONSTROUS arms seem to grab at her. But \\n it's only a wild-looking coat rack in the hall.\\n\\n EXT. 2ND FLOOR BALCONY - DAY\\n\\n Nell stands at the railing of a stone balcony on the house's second\\n floor\",\n \" We can't hide in here! We won't \\n make it til morning.\\n\\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\\n\\n NELL\\n I know.\\n\\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \\n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \\n and they all look down in fear toward the great\",\n \"ling in the wind.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the light shining dim through the gauze\\n curtain. It goes out. The window stares from an arrangement of \\n other windows, stonework and doors... like an eye with a cataract in \\n a face howling in horror.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell, her breathing heavy, lies tangled in her heavy blankets, \\n asleep, but rest\",\n \"Hill \\n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \\n dwarf all others: towering, eye-like windows and the jaws of a \\n Grand Entry with carved ebony doors.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY - DAY\\n\\n The car rumbles up the drive toward the carport.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\\n\\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \\n carport. In the silence all we can hear\"\n ],\n [\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \", panting... There \\n is nothing in the room. No Theo. She looks at her hand.\\n\\n The eye on the wall is gone.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n Oh, God. Who was holding my hand?\\n\\n Nell snaps around. There on the window, SPREADING before her eyes \\n the frost on the glass is melting into a HORRIFYING FACE. The face \\n of CRAIN.\\n\\n Nell recoils in prick\",\n \"into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \\n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth and sends \\n Luke flying through the chain curtains.\\n\\n The others are speechless. They can do nothing but watch as Luke \\n lays there on the ashdrop. A long moment.\\n\\n NELL\\n (to the house, to\\n Crain)\\n No! No! Let them go!\\n\\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to\",\n \" looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \\n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\\n\\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \\n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\\n\\n NELL\\n Finally.\\n\\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\\n\\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is\",\n \"s face \\n is the faintest, most inappropriate SMILE. It sends a chill through \\n Nell.\\n\\n The album begins to slide down the shelf, and as it does, PAGES \\n FLIP, Rene's SMILE grows wider, her hair dishevelled, her eyes lit \\n with grinning insanity...\\n\\n Nell grabs the book just as it falls from the shelf.\\n\\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \\n \",\n \"faces as shattered bits of bone, loose\\n teeth pelt them. Nell is immune.\\n\\n They run up the Grand Staircase toward the top and finally it can't\\n reach them anymore.\\n\\n INT. MEZZANINE - NIGHT\\n\\n They look out at the full scope of Crain's horror.\\n\\n THEO\\n Oh God, we can't get out!\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell, what do we do?\\n\\n NELL\\n He played hide and seek\",\n \"> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts, looks at the house with a strange feeling.\\n\\n NELL\\n That's so sad.\\n\\n This has been tense between them, a gunfight. POP! A LOG in the\\n fireplace makes everyone jump. Theo relishes it, but Nell shudders.\\n\\n MARY\\n I think there's more to the story. \\n This house\",\n \" Crain)\\n No! No! Let them go!\\n\\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to prevent it. Luke\\n stands up, has time to give her a look.\\n\\n And then the LION'S HEAD FLUE drops open behind him. Luke looks \\n back into its iron eyes --\\n\\n -- and with SHOCKING SPEED the FLUE snaps shut again, taking Luke's\\n head off his body.\\n\\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like\",\n \" died... How did you die?\\n\\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\\n\\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \\n see the book.\\n\\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\\n\\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is\",\n \"with grace and power. CAROLYN CRAIN. Posed. On a \\n settee before the fireplace. Beautiful beyond words. Smiling. \\n Ahead of her time.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n His second wife. There was a \\n second wife? Carolyn.\\n\\n It warms Nell.\\n\\n She turns the page. Now Crain is there beside Carolyn. But there \\n is something different about him. Less frightening.\\n\\n\",\n \"ene, and a house \\n filled with children.\\n\\n NELL\\n All the carvings.\\n\\n MARROW\\n But there's a sad catch to the \\n story.\\n\\n MARY\\n What happened?\\n\\n MARROW\\n There were no children. Rene \\n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts\",\n \"just as it falls from the shelf.\\n\\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \\n the enormous fireplace in the Great Hall. RENE IS GONE. The photo \\n is monstrous. Nell, fearful, turns the page --\\n\\n -- and REACTS to the last thing she expected. A picture of a lovely\\n woman filled with grace and power. CAROLYN CRAIN. Posed. On a \\n settee before the fireplace. \",\n \"into a HORRIFYING FACE. The face \\n of CRAIN.\\n\\n Nell recoils in prickling fear. Living fear. Then her fear turns \\n to RAGE. In the blink of an eye there's a heavy ashtray in her \\n hand, and it's flying at the window.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n I will not let you hurt a CHILD!\\n\\n The window BASHES out into the night, the face vanishing with a HOWL\\n\",\n \".\\n\\n Nell looks up and sees the double staircase at the end of the\\n greenhouse... the one where Crain's wife killed herself.\\n\\n And for a moment we see Crain's wife hanging there and then the \\n image is gone...\\n\\n INT. DINING ROOM - DAY\\n\\n Lunch remains are on the table as Nell enters, test papers in hand.\\n\\n NELL\\n Jim? I'm done.\\n\\n But Marrow isn't there. She's about to\",\n \"it, hurts himself.\\n\\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \\n hand on her shoulder.\\n\\n NELL\\n It's not safe for you anymore. \\n The children need me, and Crain is \\n doing everything he can to keep me \\n from them.\\n\\n Theo stares, appalled. Marrow looks around, puts his hand up to \\n shush everyone. The HOUSE MOANS, the BUMPING growing, searching.\",\n \" We interpret everything \\n through it, make it fit the story. \\n I started our story when I gave \\n you the history of Hill House. \\n You've added to it. That's what \\n this experiment has all been \\n about. That's what it was about, \\n the experiment's over. I'm \\n pulling the plug. This is my \\n fault.\\n\\n NELL\\n It's not real? Cr\",\n \" We can't hide in here! We won't \\n make it til morning.\\n\\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\\n\\n NELL\\n I know.\\n\\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \\n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \\n and they all look down in fear toward the great\",\n \"lullaby I guess. \\n My mother used to hum it to me. \\n And her mother before that, and so \\n on.\\n (to the statue)\\n Hugh Crain, would you care to \\n dance?\\n\\n She hums another two notes, and BANG! The door behind her SLAMS \\n OPEN in a gust of wind, jolting Nell. She stops and stares. \\n Outside the window, through the glass, she sees Mr. Dudley,\",\n \"the page. Now Crain is there beside Carolyn. But there \\n is something different about him. Less frightening.\\n\\n Nell flips the page again, and now there is an image of Crain and\\n Carolyn. Her hair is up in a FRENCH TWIST. Nell smiles more.\\n\\n Nell turns the page yet again.\\n\\n <u>But something is wrong</u>. It is another image of Carolyn and the\\n kinder, gentler Crain, but now it is Carolyn who\",\n \"recovers, reaches out for Nell, and the FACE in the ceiling\\n turns on him. The GAZE stops Marrow in his tracks. He looks up \\n into it and knows it's real. Somehow, it is Crain.\\n\\n Luke appears from out of nowhere on the other side of the bed and\\n SMASHES off one of the wooden hands with a large brass candelabra.\\n Nell screams in surprise, but Theo drags her out of the bed.\\n\\n The head turns to them. \"\n ],\n [\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \"into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \\n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth and sends \\n Luke flying through the chain curtains.\\n\\n The others are speechless. They can do nothing but watch as Luke \\n lays there on the ashdrop. A long moment.\\n\\n NELL\\n (to the house, to\\n Crain)\\n No! No! Let them go!\\n\\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to\",\n \"Nell stands there with her arms spread. A long moment.\\n\\n She opens her eyes.\\n\\n And then the woodwork LASHES OUT, grabs her from behind, slams her\\n back against the doors. THE BLOW HAS KILLED HER.\\n\\n We feel her bones break as she crumples, is drawn into the woodwork.\\n\\n And for a few seconds Nell's body just hangs there... and then it\\n gently falls down.\\n\\n Theo lets out a horrified cry as she runs toward\",\n \"o softly moans over Nell.\\n\\n And as the camera pans up across the entry door, we see a new \\n carving in the sculpted doors. It is a woman and as we move in we \\n can see that she wears the same necklace as Nell...\\n\\n INT. HILL HOUSE FRONT DOORS, ENTRY - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n The HOUSE INHALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT\",\n \"a door on the right, and then stops dead. Staring.\\n\\n The shut, dark, door, the one that scared Nell and Theo earlier,\\n awaits them at the end. Ominous.\\n\\n Nell approaches. Closer and closer. The door nears.\\n\\n Nell wraps her arms tightly about herself and try's to open the \\n door. It's locked. Her BREATH FOGS THE AIR. She doesn't notice \\n it. But then she suddenly GAG\",\n \"with a sheet, only its lion-head arm rests protruding from\\n underneath. Nell realizes it's:\\n\\n NELL\\n Crain's study.\\n\\n She moves for the desk. An ENORMOUS MIRROR, its silver inner \\n surface flaking with age, tarnished, reflects the room, the desk, \\n and FOR A SPLIT SECOND, A SHADOW IN THE CHAIR. Nell steps in front \\n of it, blocking our view.\\n\\n\",\n \"Nell walks through the row of dark statues. Carved faces watch her\\n pass.\\n\\n INT. HALL OUTSIDE LOCKED ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell stands before the threshold of the horrific doors, once locked,\\n now inexplicably OPEN. The mythological frieze on the door split in\\n half, a world cut in two, a seal broken. Like something has come \\n out of its tomb.\\n\\n Nell steps into the blackness.\\n\\n INT. THEO'S ROOM\",\n \".\\n\\n Nell looks up and sees the double staircase at the end of the\\n greenhouse... the one where Crain's wife killed herself.\\n\\n And for a moment we see Crain's wife hanging there and then the \\n image is gone...\\n\\n INT. DINING ROOM - DAY\\n\\n Lunch remains are on the table as Nell enters, test papers in hand.\\n\\n NELL\\n Jim? I'm done.\\n\\n But Marrow isn't there. She's about to\",\n \", panting... There \\n is nothing in the room. No Theo. She looks at her hand.\\n\\n The eye on the wall is gone.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n Oh, God. Who was holding my hand?\\n\\n Nell snaps around. There on the window, SPREADING before her eyes \\n the frost on the glass is melting into a HORRIFYING FACE. The face \\n of CRAIN.\\n\\n Nell recoils in prick\",\n \"it, hurts himself.\\n\\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \\n hand on her shoulder.\\n\\n NELL\\n It's not safe for you anymore. \\n The children need me, and Crain is \\n doing everything he can to keep me \\n from them.\\n\\n Theo stares, appalled. Marrow looks around, puts his hand up to \\n shush everyone. The HOUSE MOANS, the BUMPING growing, searching.\",\n \" looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \\n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\\n\\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \\n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\\n\\n NELL\\n Finally.\\n\\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\\n\\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is\",\n \", its handle hitting a spring. Nell recoils as the trapdoors \\n SNAP SHUT like a pair of jaws.\\n\\n INT. GROUND HALLWAY FLOOR - DUSK\\n\\n Nell stumbles down the hall, weeping in fear.\\n\\n NELL\\n Theo! Jim! Help!\\n\\n But instead she hears children voices, calling out for her.\\n\\n INT. CONFUSING SERIES OF ROOMS (THE MAZE) - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell\",\n \"around \\n us. Don't get in the way, please.\\n\\n Nell cinches the shoelace tight around his wrist.\\n\\n Luke throws down the chair, giving up on the window.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Shit! All right, you \\n sonofabitch...\\n\\n As he looks up at another one of Crain's painting hanging on the \\n wall. Nell Theo with Marrow straggle toward the great hall.\\n\\n INT. VESTIBULE TO\",\n \"breath-stealing horror. Nell recovers.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n No! Go AWAY!\\n\\n The screen punches out at them, denting. And then all the air in \\n the room seems to be SUCKED into the fireplace in one THUMP. The \\n door to the bathroom slams.\\n\\n It's gone. They sit there in the darkness, panting.\\n\\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NEXT DAY\\n\\n Nell stares\",\n \"Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'S SECRET STUDY - DAY\\n\\n Nell sits in silence, trying to find a feeling, any feeling. A long\\n beat. And without warning she leaps to her feet in SHOCKING rage.\\n\\n NELL\\n How can he think I'm doing this!\\n\\n She has a floor lamp in her hands, and hurls it like a throwing \\n hammer at the\",\n \" died... How did you die?\\n\\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\\n\\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \\n see the book.\\n\\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\\n\\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is\",\n \"\\n are looking back at them, Nell goes cold. Theo holds herself.\\n\\n NELL\\n We should go back.\\n\\n Theo nods. They turn around, Theo opening what she thinks was the \\n door they came through.\\n\\n INT. NARROW STAIRCASE - DUSK\\n\\n They hurry down a narrow staircase, Theo first, Nell right behind.\\n\\n NELL\\n Theo, I'm scared --\\n\\n They fly down a set of steps, The\",\n \" We can't hide in here! We won't \\n make it til morning.\\n\\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\\n\\n NELL\\n I know.\\n\\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \\n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \\n and they all look down in fear toward the great\",\n \" Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\\n\\n NELL\\n Hugh Crain. He's in the house. \\n He's still here...\\n\\n Theo pulls back, goes very still. The first hint of fear in her \\n eyes.\\n\\n THEO\\n No.\\n\\n Marrow sees the panic working on her, gives her a stern look:\\n\\n MARROW\\n Theo! You too. Listen to me.\\n\\n The command der\",\n \"She passes door after door, shadow after shadow, and as she nears \\n the end of the hall... there is no door here. Not within 20 feet \\n of, where we thought we just saw it.\\n\\n A WHISPER. VOICES. Nell backs away. And then LAUGHTER. Behind \\n her. It's coming from another stairwell. Very real... and very \\n human.\\n\\n INT. BACK STAIRWAY - DAY\\n\\n Nell looks down from the\"\n ],\n [\n \". And there, its sprawling stone in the\\n sunshine, rises Hill House.\\n\\n FADE OUT.\\n\\n\\n\\n ALTERNATE ENDING\\n\\n EXT. GATE - DAWN\\n\\n Theo and Marrow stand on the far side of Nell's wrecked car. On the\\n other side of the gate Mr. Dudley is undoing the chain. Mrs. Dudley\\n stares at the ragged duo.\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n (\",\n \" We interpret everything \\n through it, make it fit the story. \\n I started our story when I gave \\n you the history of Hill House. \\n You've added to it. That's what \\n this experiment has all been \\n about. That's what it was about, \\n the experiment's over. I'm \\n pulling the plug. This is my \\n fault.\\n\\n NELL\\n It's not real? Cr\",\n \"slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \\n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\\n\\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \\n outside, distorted in the old glass.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Someone is playing with you.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n MARROW\\n I don't know.\\n\\n NELL\\n It doesn't matter. Even if \",\n \"HALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \\n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \\n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \\n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\\n\\n EXT. GATE - DA\",\n \" with you in person was the night \\n we met here.\\n\\n NELL\\n Then who called me?\\n\\n Hill House looms behind her, windows forming eyes, the carport a\\n gaping mouth.\\n\\n Nell's dismay becomes a cold, terrifying understanding, and she \\n turns and stares back up at the House.\\n\\n Luke comes up with Theo on the other side of the car.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell --\\n\\n LUKE\\n -- how much\",\n \"him say this line...\\n\\n MARROW\\n Was it?\\n\\n But he should just look at her, and say the same thing with his \\n eyes.\\n\\n We pull back.\\n\\n EXT. BERKSHIRE HILLS - DAY (AERIAL)\\n\\n The summer hills lie green, passing fast underneath. Clearings loom\\n out of the forest ahead. And there, its sprawling stone in the\\n sunshine, rises Hill House.\\n\\n FADE OUT.\\n\",\n \"hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \\n FACES engraved in the wood all seem to be peering up at her, hands\\n outstretched for her, hopeful.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATES - NIGHT\\n\\n The enormous LOCKED gates are silhouetted against the moonlit sky. \\n The chain is dangling in the wind.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the\",\n \" At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\\n\\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \\n if the House itself is breathing.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \\n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still \",\n \"o softly moans over Nell.\\n\\n And as the camera pans up across the entry door, we see a new \\n carving in the sculpted doors. It is a woman and as we move in we \\n can see that she wears the same necklace as Nell...\\n\\n INT. HILL HOUSE FRONT DOORS, ENTRY - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n The HOUSE INHALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT\",\n \"Even now, Marrow can't believe what he just saw, but Theo's voice\\n brings him back. He whirls, grabs onto Nell, helps Theo drag her \\n out.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY/GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n Four cars sit behind the massive, locked gate, as far from Hill \\n House as possible. Marrow paces past the fence, staring out, the \\n road beyond leading out of this place, so close...\\n\\n Luke digs with a pen knife\",\n \"\\n\\n MARROW\\n In a way.\\n\\n Marrow studies the page. We go into the whiteness of the page to:\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Where we find Theo. The House is beautiful today, it's sunny, there\\n are flowers outside, the mood has changed. Theo is now softened, \\n she's found something better than what she had. She goes into the \\n house.\\n\\n INT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\",\n \"s found something better than what she had. She goes into the \\n house.\\n\\n INT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Theo is in the House. She looks around, walks up the stairs.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell?... Nell?\\n\\n EXT. BERKSHIRE HILLS - DAY (AERIAL)\\n\\n The summer hills lie green, passing fast underneath. Clearings loom\\n out of the forest ahead. And there, its sprawling stone in the\\n \",\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \"crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \\n that we can't see.\\n\\n MARY\\n What's this?\\n (has to get his\\n attention)\\n What's this... this picture?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where\",\n \"\\n with the stipulation that it never \\n be altered or sold. Crain's \\n executors made good investments \\n and for the last hundred and \\n twenty years, Hill House has taken \\n care of itself.\\n\\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\\n\\n TODD\\n So what's this study all about \\n anyway? Mary described\",\n \"?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where we're going?\\n\\n MARROW\\n Yes. It's perfect, isn't it?\\n\\n Mary studies the picture, and she can't answer him. In her \\n glasses, we get the thinnest reflection of the photograph, a \\n glimpse of dark brick and high chimneys.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\\n\\n Nell,\",\n \"AY\\n\\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \\n carport. In the silence all we can hear is her breathing.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Her car sits in front of the house, tiny, alone. Its brake lights \\n go off.\\n\\n The finger-like pillars of the car port seem like a hand pinning \\n the car in place under the House's gaze.\\n\\n Nell gets out of the car.\\n\\n Nell stares,\",\n \"Hill \\n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \\n dwarf all others: towering, eye-like windows and the jaws of a \\n Grand Entry with carved ebony doors.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY - DAY\\n\\n The car rumbles up the drive toward the carport.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\\n\\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \\n carport. In the silence all we can hear\",\n \"into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \\n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth and sends \\n Luke flying through the chain curtains.\\n\\n The others are speechless. They can do nothing but watch as Luke \\n lays there on the ashdrop. A long moment.\\n\\n NELL\\n (to the house, to\\n Crain)\\n No! No! Let them go!\\n\\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to\",\n \"d)\\n No, no, you leave them alone!\\n\\n And the griffin turns back into brass. Marrow and Theo unaware of \\n what happened behind them. They have to get out of there.\\n\\n INT. SECOND FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell leads Marrow and Theo down the dark hallway, the twisted \\n woodwork along the walls frozen, but seeming poised to reach out, \\n trip someone, grab a sleeve.\\n\\n It is a nightmare House. Doing\"\n ],\n [\n \". And there, its sprawling stone in the\\n sunshine, rises Hill House.\\n\\n FADE OUT.\\n\\n\\n\\n ALTERNATE ENDING\\n\\n EXT. GATE - DAWN\\n\\n Theo and Marrow stand on the far side of Nell's wrecked car. On the\\n other side of the gate Mr. Dudley is undoing the chain. Mrs. Dudley\\n stares at the ragged duo.\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n (\",\n \" with you in person was the night \\n we met here.\\n\\n NELL\\n Then who called me?\\n\\n Hill House looms behind her, windows forming eyes, the carport a\\n gaping mouth.\\n\\n Nell's dismay becomes a cold, terrifying understanding, and she \\n turns and stares back up at the House.\\n\\n Luke comes up with Theo on the other side of the car.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell --\\n\\n LUKE\\n -- how much\",\n \"HALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \\n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \\n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \\n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\\n\\n EXT. GATE - DA\",\n \"Hill \\n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \\n dwarf all others: towering, eye-like windows and the jaws of a \\n Grand Entry with carved ebony doors.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY - DAY\\n\\n The car rumbles up the drive toward the carport.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\\n\\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \\n carport. In the silence all we can hear\",\n \"slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \\n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\\n\\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \\n outside, distorted in the old glass.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Someone is playing with you.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n MARROW\\n I don't know.\\n\\n NELL\\n It doesn't matter. Even if \",\n \"AY\\n\\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \\n carport. In the silence all we can hear is her breathing.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Her car sits in front of the house, tiny, alone. Its brake lights \\n go off.\\n\\n The finger-like pillars of the car port seem like a hand pinning \\n the car in place under the House's gaze.\\n\\n Nell gets out of the car.\\n\\n Nell stares,\",\n \"crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \\n that we can't see.\\n\\n MARY\\n What's this?\\n (has to get his\\n attention)\\n What's this... this picture?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where\",\n \"s found something better than what she had. She goes into the \\n house.\\n\\n INT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Theo is in the House. She looks around, walks up the stairs.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell?... Nell?\\n\\n EXT. BERKSHIRE HILLS - DAY (AERIAL)\\n\\n The summer hills lie green, passing fast underneath. Clearings loom\\n out of the forest ahead. And there, its sprawling stone in the\\n \",\n \"Even now, Marrow can't believe what he just saw, but Theo's voice\\n brings him back. He whirls, grabs onto Nell, helps Theo drag her \\n out.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY/GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n Four cars sit behind the massive, locked gate, as far from Hill \\n House as possible. Marrow paces past the fence, staring out, the \\n road beyond leading out of this place, so close...\\n\\n Luke digs with a pen knife\",\n \" We interpret everything \\n through it, make it fit the story. \\n I started our story when I gave \\n you the history of Hill House. \\n You've added to it. That's what \\n this experiment has all been \\n about. That's what it was about, \\n the experiment's over. I'm \\n pulling the plug. This is my \\n fault.\\n\\n NELL\\n It's not real? Cr\",\n \"?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where we're going?\\n\\n MARROW\\n Yes. It's perfect, isn't it?\\n\\n Mary studies the picture, and she can't answer him. In her \\n glasses, we get the thinnest reflection of the photograph, a \\n glimpse of dark brick and high chimneys.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\\n\\n Nell,\",\n \"hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \\n FACES engraved in the wood all seem to be peering up at her, hands\\n outstretched for her, hopeful.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATES - NIGHT\\n\\n The enormous LOCKED gates are silhouetted against the moonlit sky. \\n The chain is dangling in the wind.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the\",\n \" At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\\n\\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \\n if the House itself is breathing.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \\n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still \",\n \"\\n Theo shakes her head. They aren't Marrow's. Marrow takes the keys \\n from Nell, turns them over.\\n\\n THEO\\n Maybe they're Mary's.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Mary came with me.\\n\\n NELL\\n When I first got here I saw a gray \\n car pull up. I thought it was one \\n of us.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - DAY\\n\\n They stand on the front\",\n \"him say this line...\\n\\n MARROW\\n Was it?\\n\\n But he should just look at her, and say the same thing with his \\n eyes.\\n\\n We pull back.\\n\\n EXT. BERKSHIRE HILLS - DAY (AERIAL)\\n\\n The summer hills lie green, passing fast underneath. Clearings loom\\n out of the forest ahead. And there, its sprawling stone in the\\n sunshine, rises Hill House.\\n\\n FADE OUT.\\n\",\n \"o softly moans over Nell.\\n\\n And as the camera pans up across the entry door, we see a new \\n carving in the sculpted doors. It is a woman and as we move in we \\n can see that she wears the same necklace as Nell...\\n\\n INT. HILL HOUSE FRONT DOORS, ENTRY - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n The HOUSE INHALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT\",\n \"of\\n immense stone pillars. Between them, a steel GATE as high as the \\n wall, chained and padlocked.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATE - DAY\\n\\n The gate stands immense. Silent. Forbidding. Beyond them a \\n gravel drive curves away through the trees. Nell kills her car, \\n gets out, instructions in hand. No one in sight. A long beat. \\n She reaches in and blows the HORN.\\n\\n The HORN\",\n \"cont'd)\\n Well, why don't we get some dinner \\n while we're waiting for him?\\n (beat, backing \\n through the doors \\n to the Great Hall)\\n Welcome to Hill House, everyone.\\n\\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow leads the way across the hall. The others check out the\\n furnishings as they pass.\\n\\n TODD\\n These old Victorian houses are \\n great, aren't they?\",\n \"--\\n\\n -- Nell is just vanishing around the corner, her rapid footsteps\\n echoing in the vaulted room.\\n\\n EXT. REAR LAWN - DAY\\n\\n Nell hurries away from the House, across the rear lawn, ashamed at\\n herself as much as she is spooked.\\n\\n In the distance Mr. Dudley is walking toward the House with cans of\\n paint cleaner an a ladder. Nell stops, watching him. He senses \\n her, pauses, and smiles.\\n\\n \",\n \"about the \\n house?\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you.\\n\\n Grinning, Dudley steps aside and Nell rolls through. And at that \\n he just grins wider. Nell pulls away. Disturbed, she watches him \\n in the rearview mirror. She turns and in front of her sprawls Hill \\n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \\n dwarf all others: towering, eye-\"\n ],\n [\n \"snaps shut again, taking Luke's\\n head off his body.\\n\\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like a puppet \\n with its strings cut.\\n\\n Nell, Marrow and Theo stand there. Not sure of what just happened,\\n their minds unable to accept it.\\n\\n A sound comes up in Theo's throat. A sob. A horrified whimper. \\n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \\n obvious will make it\",\n \"getting any closer than ten feet, and he's \\n looking back at the gas tank.\\n\\n Luke gets the seatbelt off, tries to open the door but it's warped\\n shut. He struggles to get out from behind the wheel. Sparks jump \\n from the battery. Gas shoots out of the fuel pump onto the \\n shattered window. He knows he's in trouble.\\n\\n THEO\\n Hurry. The gas! Luke... The gas!\\n\\n Finally Luke gets free of the wheel\",\n \" Crain)\\n No! No! Let them go!\\n\\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to prevent it. Luke\\n stands up, has time to give her a look.\\n\\n And then the LION'S HEAD FLUE drops open behind him. Luke looks \\n back into its iron eyes --\\n\\n -- and with SHOCKING SPEED the FLUE snaps shut again, taking Luke's\\n head off his body.\\n\\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like\",\n \"ified whimper. \\n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \\n obvious will make it real:\\n\\n MARROW\\n Luke.\\n\\n BANG. The blood-splattered LION'S HEAD drops open. Luke's head \\n falls out.\\n\\n Theo SCREAMS and SCREAMS again. Nell backs away with Marrow, almost\\n has the presence of mind to drag them away, but --\\n\\n -- CLANG! The A\",\n \"of the room. They stare at him, appalled, afraid. Knowing \\n he has done something wrong.\\n\\n Luke stops. Maybe fifteen feet away. He sees their expressions.\\n\\n LUKE\\n What?\\n\\n Nell looks over at the burning tapestries. Heat sears the stone,\\n blackens the carved figures in the woodwork.\\n\\n The ruddy light casts deep shadows throughout the room.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n We'll get out after this\",\n \"crawls out onto the trunk.\\n\\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow hurries around the back of the car, staying clear of the lake\\n of gas spreading about it. Luke rolls off. Marrow helps him up, \\n and gets him away a safe distance.\\n\\n LUKE\\n I'm okay. Okay. Just my chest. \\n Just my wind knocked out.\\n\\n Marrow looks up at the gate. It is even more impassible than before\\n with the\",\n \"\\n\\n Luke grimaces, shifts into low, pours on the gas.\\n\\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n The car fishes back and forth against the gate, hurling a shower of\\n gravel on the other cars off to the side of the road. Marrow, Nell \\n and Theo move back.\\n\\n One of the Buick's headlights breaks. The grill mashes in. For a \\n long moment the car struggles against the Gate. No good. Luke \\n eases\",\n \"of cloth fall to the floor and go out, there is \\n utter silence.\\n\\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n Luke looks at them helplessly. An awful, impending beat. Without\\n warning, the huge PERSIAN CARPET he's standing on JERKS out from \\n under him. Luke falls on his stomach.\\n\\n Stunned, Luke looks straight into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \\n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth\",\n \"men watch the car drive away.\\n\\n LUKE\\n That could have been worse.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Yeah.\\n\\n As they turn back, Marrow taps Luke.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Luke, can I talk to you?\\n\\n LUKE\\n Sure.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Because... well, I know I can \\n trust you.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Why?\\n\\n MARROW\\n I'\",\n \"her, and she lands sitting. Theo and \\n Marrow get to her side fast.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n -- he didn't kill her she killed \\n him and ran away with her baby --\\n\\n Marrow grabs her face. It's gray, her eyes glazing over.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Get a blanket!\\n\\n THEO\\n It's okay... we're all here...\\n\\n Luke races out. Theo, scared, looks\",\n \"runs over \\n to help him and shoves the tire iron between the doors and PRIES. \\n Marrow throws the useless thing down and stands back.\\n\\n Luke joins him, and they shoulder block it together. But this door \\n is MASSIVE. There's no way.\\n\\n LUKE\\n No you bastard! Break!\\n\\n He roundhouse kicks it, hurts himself.\\n\\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \\n hand on her\",\n \" lasts a few heartbeats.\\n\\n He looks away. A flicker of distress crosses Nell's face. And then \\n she realizes Marrow is looking at --\\n\\n -- Luke.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n You have to see something.\\n\\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - DAY\\n\\n Luke, Nell and Marrow mount the stairs, climb up and up. They find\\n Theo in the mezzanine staring at the wall at the painting. \",\n \"\\n\\n THEO\\n Hurry. The gas! Luke... The gas!\\n\\n Finally Luke gets free of the wheel. It's agonizing to watch... \\n The passenger door is jammed shut too.\\n\\n He squirms into the back seat. The rear doors are in the same\\n condition as the front. But the rear window is blown out. He \\n crawls out onto the trunk.\\n\\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow hurries around the back of the\",\n \"dy light casts deep shadows throughout the room.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n We'll get out after this wing \\n burns down. Let's go.\\n\\n But there's no need. The tapestries are consuming themselves too \\n fast to ignite the walls or ceiling. They all realize it. As the \\n last flaming scraps of cloth fall to the floor and go out, there is \\n utter silence.\\n\\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\\n\",\n \", he LIGHTS a towering TAPESTRY on fire.\\n\\n He races from one to the next, lighting them. Theo and Nell help\\n Marrow up, back away as Luke shoots by.\\n\\n All the tapestries are ON FIRE, blazing up like torches.\\n\\n At last, his rage spent, heaving, he moves to join the others at the\\n center of the room. They stare at him, appalled, afraid. Knowing \\n he has done something wrong.\\n\\n Luke stops\",\n \"\\n The lock slides open. The door swings in. Luke stands there, the \\n two women behind him.\\n\\n Luke turns on the lights. The room is perfectly ordinary, no sign \\n that anything has been in here. The door to the hall is shut. Nell \\n reacts.\\n\\n INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell and Theo, wrapped in blankets, sit over mugs of tea at the\\n kitchen table. Marrow, across from them, clicks off his digital\\n \",\n \" be together, with Nell.\\n\\n And they go. Three scared people.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S BATHROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Luke sits on the closed toilet and watches Nell in the adjoining \\n room. Light from the bathroom falls across her fetal, curled form \\n in the bed.\\n\\n The door to Theo's room is open too. Luke glances over. Theo lies \\n on her bed. Marrow is slouched in a chair.\\n\\n Luke\",\n \" Luke glances over. Theo lies \\n on her bed. Marrow is slouched in a chair.\\n\\n Luke settles back against the wall.\\n\\n The HOUSE EXHALES, and the breath of the house is like the poppy \\n field in the Wizard of OZ; it brings on sleep.\\n\\n INT. THEO'S ROOM - MUCH LATER THAT NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow is struggling to stay awake and his eyes finally close. Theo\\n breathes hard in the grips of some\",\n \"\\n\\n INT. NELL'S BATHROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow lunges into the bathroom, thrown from sleep as Luke stares in\\n impotent shock. Theo is there behind Marrow an instant later.\\n\\n MARROW\\n What is it?\\n\\n Luke can't make any words come out. Marrow shoves him aside, grabs \\n the doorknob and thrashes at it.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Help me!\\n\\n He br\",\n \"around the edges. Luke is on her side of the car.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Keep your head back, that's it.\\n\\n Todd opens his door. Marrow hands him a key.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Here's my key to the gate. Call \\n me the second you know anything.\\n\\n Todd takes it, jumps in. The two men watch the car drive away.\\n\\n LUKE\\n That could have been worse.\\n\\n MARROW\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \" NELL\\n After Rene... after she killed \\n herself... he turned into a \\n monster. He did fill the house \\n with children... he did, but... \\n they weren't laughing...\\n\\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \\n a padded bench on one side of the room.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, what happened?\\n\\n NELL\\n Carolyn showed me where she hid \",\n \"jolting Nell. She stops and stares. \\n Outside the window, through the glass, she sees Mr. Dudley, staring \\n at her, he's been watching her dance. The spell is broken. Nell, \\n embarrassed, can't bear to look at him.\\n\\n A beat, and then Marrow goes over and shuts the door. When he turns\\n back --\\n\\n -- Nell is just vanishing around the corner, her rapid footsteps\\n echoing in the vaulted room.\\n\\n \",\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \"bed, furniture, all in blue purple. An open \\n door gives a glimpse of a bathroom.\\n\\n A large fireplace dominates one wall. Its mantle is carved with \\n the faces of children, happy, at play, alive. Nell touches the \\n wood, loving.\\n\\n NELL\\n They're so beautiful. Aren't \\n they?\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n I've seen 'em. Lot to dust.\\n\\n NELL\\n\",\n \"about the \\n house?\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you.\\n\\n Grinning, Dudley steps aside and Nell rolls through. And at that \\n he just grins wider. Nell pulls away. Disturbed, she watches him \\n in the rearview mirror. She turns and in front of her sprawls Hill \\n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \\n dwarf all others: towering, eye-\",\n \"t notice. But Nell feels it in the soul. \\n Richie stops. A long beat. He looks at her, insolent, then plows \\n on with his tank.\\n\\n JANE\\n Nell. A job? Two months and\\n where is this job? You have no\\n degree, you've never worked --\\n\\n Nell explodes in outraged fury, startling us.\\n\\n NELL\\n -- I've never worked? --\\n\\n \",\n \" NELL\\n You can call me Nell, Dr. Marrow.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell. Good enough. And I'm Jim.\\n\\n NELL\\n I'm really... honored to be part \\n of this study, Jim.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Well... we're glad to have you.\\n\\n His smile is devastating. Nell reddens, instantly taken by Marrow's\\n warmth, observant sensitivity. <u>Theo not\",\n \" NELL (cont'd)\\n No...\\n\\n But the substance doesn't come from the ceiling.\\n\\n It is as if the oils on the PAINTING OF HUGH CRAIN have been boiled \\n by a heat gun and blasted off, running down from there. Hugh's face \\n is gone. In place of the face, the underlying ivory of the canvas \\n glares out... like a skull.\\n\\n Nell SCREAMS and runs away, the others calling out after her in \",\n \"\\n\\n Nell lies in her bed asleep, the room dark except for the last,\\n guttering end of one of the candles. It goes out.\\n\\n A FAINT SOUND. LONG, LOW, like the inarticulate murmur of a dozen\\n madmen. Nell stirs. Her eyes open. She hears the sound.\\n\\n The wall on the opposite side of the room catches the pale gloom \\n from the window. The twisting figures in the plaster, the low-\\n relief\",\n \"that's where he burned \\n them up, the child laborers from \\n his mills! Because that's where \\n their bones are! He killed\\n <i>hundreds</i>. He took them here and\\n he killed them. Their bones are \\n in the fireplace!\\n\\n Nell sobs. The others exchange looks at this. It sounds so hollow, \\n so delusional, it makes Marrow look so right.\\n\\n MARROW\\n \",\n \"here:\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n A father's joy unjustly snatch'd \\n by a jealous God...\\n\\n Nell is shaken, and dreading what she will find next, whirls to the\\n one behind her: WENDY CRAIN JANUARY 1 , 1880 -- She clears it away \\n -- January 1, 1880. And its graven commandment, so familiar, so\\n comforting, now rings with terrible, malev\",\n \"s for \\n soldiers, that's for the women \\n that the bullfighters fall in love \\n with. And here I am, and \\n something is happening to me. \\n Strange noises in the night. \\n Paintings are calling to me. And \\n all it cost to get there was five \\n gallons of gas. I'm getting my \\n adventure.\\n\\n For the first time since we've seen Nell, there is something to\",\n \"ists a very heavy bag off on Mrs. Dudley who looks like she's\\n been handed a snake. That makes Nell smile. She comes running down \\n to help with the bags.\\n\\n NELL\\n I'm Eleanor but everyone calls me \\n Nell. Eleanor Vance. Nell. I'm \\n really glad you're here. Really.\\n\\n Theo is a little thrown by Nell's gushing.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd\",\n \"tries to see what else is in here \\n in the dark, she begins to make out WHITE SHROUDED SHAPES.\\n\\n Against the wall. A bed covered in a sheet. A table beside it. A \\n HAND BELL. A CANE.\\n\\n <u>Just like Nell's sick room at home</u>. Nell realizes it, covers her\\n mouth.\\n\\n The furniture is in EXACTLY the same position, though the sheets\\n covering the pieces are stained, FAR OLD\",\n \"SECOND, A SHADOW IN THE CHAIR. Nell steps in front \\n of it, blocking our view.\\n\\n And when she steps past, there is only the dim, flaking image of the\\n chair, the natural shadow of the room.\\n\\n Nell goes around the desk, stands over it. The chair sits silent\\n behind her, shrouded.\\n\\n On the desk sits a set of ledgers marked with mill names -- Lowell,\\n Haverhill, Manchester -- and years: 1884, '8\",\n \"you think I did that. I \\n didn't! Go to the great hall and \\n look in the fireplace!\\n\\n She starts to laugh. Marrow gently presses Nell down, tucking the\\n blanket around her.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Why would we want to do that, \\n Nell?\\n\\n NELL\\n Because that's where he burned \\n them up, the child laborers from \\n his mills! Because that's where\",\n \"ene, and a house \\n filled with children.\\n\\n NELL\\n All the carvings.\\n\\n MARROW\\n But there's a sad catch to the \\n story.\\n\\n MARY\\n What happened?\\n\\n MARROW\\n There were no children. Rene \\n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts\",\n \"You know that, Nell.\\n\\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \\n so ugly if it were true.\\n\\n NELL\\n I don't know anything. Whoever \\n did this, please, just... just say \\n so... just... please... this is \\n cruel. Don't be cruel to me. I \\n can't stand it. You don't know \\n me.\\n\\n And she runs out.\\n\",\n \"HELIX STAIRCASE which rises from the floor to a platform \\n which gives access to the roof. Below the staircase are planters \\n filled with violets.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n Violets. Somebody must've died \\n here.\\n\\n And then, out of the corners, comes Mister Dudley.\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n That's where she hanged herself.\\n\\n NELL\\n Who?\\n\\n \",\n \" exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \\n and they all look down in fear toward the great hall where a cloud \\n of ashes still hangs in the air.\\n\\n Unseen by them, this rumble start to shake the painting behind them.\\n The sound from the great hall makes Marrow and Theo back up more, \\n but Nell doesn't move... she senses something is about to happen and \\n she will fight it...\\n\\n She suddenly turns and sees the painting... in a flash she\"\n ],\n [\n \"Ph.D. in psychic studies.\\n\\n MARROW\\n And after she was thrown out, she \\n needed a job.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n You don't believe in the \\n paranormal.\\n\\n MARROW\\n No, but she does, and that's all \\n that matters.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Does she know that's why you're \\n using her?\\n\\n MARROW\\n No\",\n \" NELL\\n You can call me Nell, Dr. Marrow.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell. Good enough. And I'm Jim.\\n\\n NELL\\n I'm really... honored to be part \\n of this study, Jim.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Well... we're glad to have you.\\n\\n His smile is devastating. Nell reddens, instantly taken by Marrow's\\n warmth, observant sensitivity. <u>Theo not\",\n \"inations. You brought us \\n here to scare us. Insomnia, that \\n was just a decoy issue. You're \\n disgusting.\\n\\n NELL\\n Is this true? I've been \\n hypnotized?\\n\\n MARROW\\n I hadn't done a study of how group \\n fear affects individual \\n performance. Mass hysteria is \\n like a story, Nell. A communal \\n \",\n \"Marrow is the cold, analytical tone, his \\n garbled jargon.\\n\\n MARROW (OC)\\n One minute!\\n\\n It's Marrow, for real, about to enter. Nell clicks off the \\n recorder, drops it into the briefcase. Marrow is startled, not \\n expecting Nell to be sitting right next to his papers and briefcase.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Nell.\\n\\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead\",\n \"about this.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Hmm.\\n\\n NELL\\n I'm sorry. I'm messing up the \\n study.\\n\\n MARROW\\n No you're not. Something moved \\n you. You saw something.\\n\\n Nell looks to him. He's sincere. He believes her.\\n\\n NELL\\n I don't know. Maybe I...\\n\\n \\\"Didn't\\\" she almost says. \",\n \"works in a group...\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Not the way you've constructed \\n your group, it's just not ethical!\\n\\n MARROW\\n But if the group knows it's being \\n studied as a group, you \\n contaminate the results. The \\n deception is minor.\\n\\n Malcolm sees Mary Lambretta.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Are you working with her?\\n\\n MARROW\\n Mary, I\",\n \"have to hear me. Let me \\n explain what's happening to you.\\n (beat)\\n You're participating in a study on \\n hysteria.\\n\\n Everyone but Marrow REACTS.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n I've given you a powerful \\n suggestion that you're in a \\n haunted house. I picked Hill \\n House because it fits the \\n expectations. It was my... it was \\n my\",\n \"case.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Nell.\\n\\n She can only stare at him, eyes dead. Marrow looks from her to the\\n briefcase and back.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Were you looking for me?\\n\\n Nell can't answer. Marrow comes over, unsettled.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n How are the tests going?\\n\\n Nell rises, staring, emotionless. Betrayal just\",\n \"\\n with the stipulation that it never \\n be altered or sold. Crain's \\n executors made good investments \\n and for the last hundred and \\n twenty years, Hill House has taken \\n care of itself.\\n\\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\\n\\n TODD\\n So what's this study all about \\n anyway? Mary described\",\n \"a.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Are you working with her?\\n\\n MARROW\\n Mary, I'll meet you outside.\\n\\n She understands, and she closes the door.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Why are you working with her? \\n Mary Lambretta was thrown out of \\n the department for trying to get a \\n Ph.D. in psychic studies.\\n\\n MARROW\\n And after she was thrown out, she \\n needed\",\n \"hostile man \\n does not believe in Madame Velka.\\n\\n This relieves the pressure. Malcolm is not listening anymore and\\n storms off.\\n\\n MARY\\n You know what he's really upset \\n about?\\n\\n MARROW\\n What?\\n\\n MARY\\n You're going to publish, he's \\n going to perish... And why did you \\n hire me for this?\\n\\n Marrow has a sly smile. They go\",\n \" Whatever else she's \\n wearing, she wears glasses. Marrow, seeing her, motions for her to \\n go away. He doesn't break eye contact with Malcolm. Mary \\n hesitates...\\n\\n MARROW\\n Malcolm, this is essential work \\n I'm doing. Just think what my \\n research can do for education. \\n Elementary school classrooms near \\n train tracks or airports, where \\n loud noise is random; this helps\",\n \" it again.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Look, look at what it does! The \\n subjects on the left, because they \\n anticipate the shocks, make the \\n adjustment, and lose nothing on \\n their scores. The subjects on the \\n right, because the shocks are \\n random, can't anticipate, and the \\n distraction throws them off.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n Stop defending your science after \\n\",\n \"\\n the extent of her self-delusion \\n was inconclusive due to her \\n efforts to sexualize encounter \\n with experimenter.\\n\\n Marrow's voice continues on in his assessment, but Nell isn't \\n hearing anything anymore.\\n\\n She dies inside. Her world upside down. She falls into a chair, \\n and all we can hear of Marrow is the cold, analytical tone, his \\n garbled jargon.\\n\\n MARROW (OC)\\n \",\n \" he says it's about one thing, a \\n psychological profile of \\n environmental effects on \\n insomnia... and that'd be a \\n legitimate study, but I think that \\n we've been subjected to an \\n academic bait and switch; he's \\n really looking at something else.\\n\\n NELL\\n No. No... Jim's not doing -- \\n these things.\\n\\n But there's a desperate, rising edge to Nell'\",\n \" Maybe you did it yourself.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n THEO\\n I don't know. You've been alone \\n for a long time, maybe you want \\n attention.\\n (pointing to \\n Marrow)\\n Maybe he did it...\\n\\n MARROW\\n I didn't. You know that, Nell.\\n\\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \\n so ugly if\",\n \" MARROW\\n The cold sensation. Who felt it \\n first?\\n\\n NELL\\n Theo I think. You've asked us \\n that three times, Doctor Marrow. \\n What's going on?\\n\\n MARROW\\n How do you feel about Luke's \\n suggestion that it was just the \\n old plumbing? Water hammer, \\n something like that?\\n\\n Theo and Nell look at each other in frustration. \",\n \" on the stairs. Theo touches her. She starts.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, it was an accident.\\n\\n INT. MARROW'S BEDROOM (PART OF CONFUSING ROOMS) - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow, sitting at a desk, speaks into a digital voice recorder. \\n His voice is cold, analytical.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Icebreaker exercise conducted over \\n dinner. Observed initial bonding \\n among subjects and experimenter.\",\n \"the presence of something.\\n\\n TODD\\n So what's this study all about \\n anyway? Mary described the kind \\n of tests we'll be doing, but \\n didn't fill us in on the big \\n picture. She said you needed bad \\n sleepers, but this wasn't about \\n curing the problem.\\n\\n MARY\\n I can tell you what this is about.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Eat first, questions later\",\n \"M\\n Does she know that's why you're \\n using her?\\n\\n MARROW\\n No.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n I, I just can't...\\n\\n MARROW\\n She needed a job, Malcolm. And \\n she's smart. And she helps me.\\n\\n MALCOLM\\n I have a bad feeling about what \\n you're doing.\\n\\n MARROW\\n This is the last\"\n ],\n [\n \"ene, and a house \\n filled with children.\\n\\n NELL\\n All the carvings.\\n\\n MARROW\\n But there's a sad catch to the \\n story.\\n\\n MARY\\n What happened?\\n\\n MARROW\\n There were no children. Rene \\n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts\",\n \"> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts, looks at the house with a strange feeling.\\n\\n NELL\\n That's so sad.\\n\\n This has been tense between them, a gunfight. POP! A LOG in the\\n fireplace makes everyone jump. Theo relishes it, but Nell shudders.\\n\\n MARY\\n I think there's more to the story. \\n This house\",\n \"s face \\n is the faintest, most inappropriate SMILE. It sends a chill through \\n Nell.\\n\\n The album begins to slide down the shelf, and as it does, PAGES \\n FLIP, Rene's SMILE grows wider, her hair dishevelled, her eyes lit \\n with grinning insanity...\\n\\n Nell grabs the book just as it falls from the shelf.\\n\\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \\n \",\n \"Crain \\n had children chained to the looms \\n in his mill. And listen to this: \\n his beautiful Rene killed herself.\\n\\n THEO\\n And why didn't Marrow tell <u>us</u>?\\n Doesn't he trust women? That \\n fuck.\\n\\n NELL\\n (she's thinking \\n about the story, \\n not Marrow)\\n A monster? But he built this for \\n \",\n \"ALBUM of the late\\n nineteenth century, bound with ribbons, the aged Daguerreotypes in\\n pressed vellum frames.\\n\\n Nell peers closer. It's open to a faded, gray image taken long \\n before it became the convention to smile for a photograph: a woman, \\n RENE CRAIN, sitting in a chair.\\n\\n And standing behind the chair, a fearsome presence in a black coat,\\n his face hollow, malevolent. HUGH CRAIN.\\n\\n Nell\",\n \"just as it falls from the shelf.\\n\\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \\n the enormous fireplace in the Great Hall. RENE IS GONE. The photo \\n is monstrous. Nell, fearful, turns the page --\\n\\n -- and REACTS to the last thing she expected. A picture of a lovely\\n woman filled with grace and power. CAROLYN CRAIN. Posed. On a \\n settee before the fireplace. \",\n \"the mezzanine. The\\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\\n behind.\\n\\n LUKE\\n He said that Hugh Crain... Hugh \\n Crain was a monster. He said that \\n he was a brutal, horrible man. He \\n told me that Crain drove his \\n workers to early deaths. Crain \\n had children chained to the looms \\n in his mill. And listen to this: \\n \",\n \" looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \\n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\\n\\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \\n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\\n\\n NELL\\n Finally.\\n\\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\\n\\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is\",\n \"-- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is only from up here on the second \\n floor with this curtain open that the FACE is visible in the late-\\n day sunlight.\\n\\n Despite the artist's discretion, the lines in the man's skin, his\\n eyes, his posture, cry of unspeakable sickness.\\n\\n Unconsciously, Nell takes a step back. In the far b.g., near the \\n \",\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \"with a sheet, only its lion-head arm rests protruding from\\n underneath. Nell realizes it's:\\n\\n NELL\\n Crain's study.\\n\\n She moves for the desk. An ENORMOUS MIRROR, its silver inner \\n surface flaking with age, tarnished, reflects the room, the desk, \\n and FOR A SPLIT SECOND, A SHADOW IN THE CHAIR. Nell steps in front \\n of it, blocking our view.\\n\\n\",\n \" NELL\\n After Rene... after she killed \\n herself... he turned into a \\n monster. He did fill the house \\n with children... he did, but... \\n they weren't laughing...\\n\\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \\n a padded bench on one side of the room.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, what happened?\\n\\n NELL\\n Carolyn showed me where she hid \",\n \"sliver of sunlight showing \\n through. As her eyes adjust, she makes out the furnishings of a \\n late-nineteenth century office, Crain's secret office.\\n\\n The bookcases filled with business ledgers. The business ledgers \\n are stamped with the cherub of death.\\n\\n At the end is an enormous desk. Behind it a massive, carved chair\\n covered with a sheet, only its lion-head arm rests protruding from\\n underneath. Nell realizes it's:\\n\\n \",\n \" died... How did you die?\\n\\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\\n\\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \\n see the book.\\n\\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\\n\\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is\",\n \", panting... There \\n is nothing in the room. No Theo. She looks at her hand.\\n\\n The eye on the wall is gone.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n Oh, God. Who was holding my hand?\\n\\n Nell snaps around. There on the window, SPREADING before her eyes \\n the frost on the glass is melting into a HORRIFYING FACE. The face \\n of CRAIN.\\n\\n Nell recoils in prick\",\n \"crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \\n that we can't see.\\n\\n MARY\\n What's this?\\n (has to get his\\n attention)\\n What's this... this picture?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where\",\n \"Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'S SECRET STUDY - DAY\\n\\n Nell sits in silence, trying to find a feeling, any feeling. A long\\n beat. And without warning she leaps to her feet in SHOCKING rage.\\n\\n NELL\\n How can he think I'm doing this!\\n\\n She has a floor lamp in her hands, and hurls it like a throwing \\n hammer at the\",\n \"lullaby I guess. \\n My mother used to hum it to me. \\n And her mother before that, and so \\n on.\\n (to the statue)\\n Hugh Crain, would you care to \\n dance?\\n\\n She hums another two notes, and BANG! The door behind her SLAMS \\n OPEN in a gust of wind, jolting Nell. She stops and stares. \\n Outside the window, through the glass, she sees Mr. Dudley,\",\n \"with grace and power. CAROLYN CRAIN. Posed. On a \\n settee before the fireplace. Beautiful beyond words. Smiling. \\n Ahead of her time.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n His second wife. There was a \\n second wife? Carolyn.\\n\\n It warms Nell.\\n\\n She turns the page. Now Crain is there beside Carolyn. But there \\n is something different about him. Less frightening.\\n\\n\",\n \"paint cleaner an a ladder. Nell stops, watching him. He senses \\n her, pauses, and smiles.\\n\\n Nell reacts. Sees the ladder. Then Mr. Dudley disappears into the\\n House.\\n\\n Nell once again starts to hurry away, but looking back over her\\n shoulder, almost impales herself on the rusted iron fence of --\\n\\n EXT. FAMILY CEMETERY - DAY (CONTINUOUS)\\n\\n -- the tiny Crain family cemetery. \"\n ],\n [\n \"of\\n immense stone pillars. Between them, a steel GATE as high as the \\n wall, chained and padlocked.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATE - DAY\\n\\n The gate stands immense. Silent. Forbidding. Beyond them a \\n gravel drive curves away through the trees. Nell kills her car, \\n gets out, instructions in hand. No one in sight. A long beat. \\n She reaches in and blows the HORN.\\n\\n The HORN\",\n \"Hill \\n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \\n dwarf all others: towering, eye-like windows and the jaws of a \\n Grand Entry with carved ebony doors.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY - DAY\\n\\n The car rumbles up the drive toward the carport.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\\n\\n Nell stops the car in front of the entrance, right inside the \\n carport. In the silence all we can hear\",\n \"In the night...\\n\\n The DOOR BAMS SHUT with a concussion that rocks the entire room,\\n sweeping Luke's jacket under it. The HANDLES TURN, LOCK DOWN.\\n\\n Stunned. All stunned.\\n\\n A RUSH OF AIR. The House EXHALES. Silence. And then CREEEEAK. \\n They cast their eyes back up the stairs.\\n\\n BUMP BUMP. Far-off sounds, hair-raising, of infinite variety, carry\\n down\",\n \"What is \\n it about fences? Sometimes a \\n locked chain makes people on both \\n sides of the fence just a little \\n more comfortable. Why would that \\n be?\\n\\n He unwinds the enormous chain, heavy turn after heavy turn. The \\n gates swing in, revealing HILL HOUSE.\\n\\n NELL\\n Is there something about the \\n house?\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you\",\n \"hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \\n FACES engraved in the wood all seem to be peering up at her, hands\\n outstretched for her, hopeful.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE GATES - NIGHT\\n\\n The enormous LOCKED gates are silhouetted against the moonlit sky. \\n The chain is dangling in the wind.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Hold on Nell's WINDOW, the\",\n \"slightest sway to her gait. Marrow follows her around the corner \\n into the transept. At the far end the wall is completely overgrown.\\n\\n Nell looks up through the ceiling at Hill House looming grim \\n outside, distorted in the old glass.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Someone is playing with you.\\n\\n NELL\\n Why?\\n\\n MARROW\\n I don't know.\\n\\n NELL\\n It doesn't matter. Even if \",\n \"HALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \\n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \\n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \\n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\\n\\n EXT. GATE - DA\",\n \" At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\\n\\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \\n if the House itself is breathing.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \\n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still \",\n \"\\n with the stipulation that it never \\n be altered or sold. Crain's \\n executors made good investments \\n and for the last hundred and \\n twenty years, Hill House has taken \\n care of itself.\\n\\n Mary is shaken by the house, but she's honoring Marrow's request.\\n Everywhere she looks, she feels the presence of something.\\n\\n TODD\\n So what's this study all about \\n anyway? Mary described\",\n \"UDLEY\\n The Purple Room. You're going to \\n be the first visitors that Hill \\n House has had since Mister Crain \\n died.\\n\\n The room is spacious, in a rococo gothic style with low-relief\\n woodwork on the walls rising to a dark, coffered, ceiling of carved\\n ivory. A king-size bed, furniture, all in blue purple. An open \\n door gives a glimpse of a bathroom.\\n\\n A large fireplace dominates\",\n \" with you in person was the night \\n we met here.\\n\\n NELL\\n Then who called me?\\n\\n Hill House looms behind her, windows forming eyes, the carport a\\n gaping mouth.\\n\\n Nell's dismay becomes a cold, terrifying understanding, and she \\n turns and stares back up at the House.\\n\\n Luke comes up with Theo on the other side of the car.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell --\\n\\n LUKE\\n -- how much\",\n \" We can't hide in here! We won't \\n make it til morning.\\n\\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\\n\\n NELL\\n I know.\\n\\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \\n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \\n and they all look down in fear toward the great\",\n \"o softly moans over Nell.\\n\\n And as the camera pans up across the entry door, we see a new \\n carving in the sculpted doors. It is a woman and as we move in we \\n can see that she wears the same necklace as Nell...\\n\\n INT. HILL HOUSE FRONT DOORS, ENTRY - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n The HOUSE INHALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT\",\n \"about the \\n house?\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n Mrs. Dudley'll be waiting for you.\\n\\n Grinning, Dudley steps aside and Nell rolls through. And at that \\n he just grins wider. Nell pulls away. Disturbed, she watches him \\n in the rearview mirror. She turns and in front of her sprawls Hill \\n House. At center, the features of the oldest part of the House \\n dwarf all others: towering, eye-\",\n \"cont'd)\\n Well, why don't we get some dinner \\n while we're waiting for him?\\n (beat, backing \\n through the doors \\n to the Great Hall)\\n Welcome to Hill House, everyone.\\n\\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow leads the way across the hall. The others check out the\\n furnishings as they pass.\\n\\n TODD\\n These old Victorian houses are \\n great, aren't they?\",\n \"crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \\n that we can't see.\\n\\n MARY\\n What's this?\\n (has to get his\\n attention)\\n What's this... this picture?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where\",\n \"?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where we're going?\\n\\n MARROW\\n Yes. It's perfect, isn't it?\\n\\n Mary studies the picture, and she can't answer him. In her \\n glasses, we get the thinnest reflection of the photograph, a \\n glimpse of dark brick and high chimneys.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S CAR - DAY\\n\\n Nell,\",\n \"Even now, Marrow can't believe what he just saw, but Theo's voice\\n brings him back. He whirls, grabs onto Nell, helps Theo drag her \\n out.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE DRIVEWAY/GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n Four cars sit behind the massive, locked gate, as far from Hill \\n House as possible. Marrow paces past the fence, staring out, the \\n road beyond leading out of this place, so close...\\n\\n Luke digs with a pen knife\",\n \"\\n ever darker. The House's hellish carvings glare as she passes, \\n grinning, taunting. She rages on, oblivious until she rounds a \\n final corner --\\n\\n INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE LOCKED ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n -- into the long, dark hall leading to the LOCKED ROOM. The \\n STATUARY peer down on her. Dead faces. Blind marble eyes. As she \\n turns, the heads and eyes turn imperceptibly\",\n \"d)\\n No, no, you leave them alone!\\n\\n And the griffin turns back into brass. Marrow and Theo unaware of \\n what happened behind them. They have to get out of there.\\n\\n INT. SECOND FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell leads Marrow and Theo down the dark hallway, the twisted \\n woodwork along the walls frozen, but seeming poised to reach out, \\n trip someone, grab a sleeve.\\n\\n It is a nightmare House. Doing\"\n ],\n [\n \" looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \\n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\\n\\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \\n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\\n\\n NELL\\n Finally.\\n\\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\\n\\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is\",\n \"-- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is only from up here on the second \\n floor with this curtain open that the FACE is visible in the late-\\n day sunlight.\\n\\n Despite the artist's discretion, the lines in the man's skin, his\\n eyes, his posture, cry of unspeakable sickness.\\n\\n Unconsciously, Nell takes a step back. In the far b.g., near the \\n \",\n \"the mezzanine. The\\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\\n behind.\\n\\n LUKE\\n He said that Hugh Crain... Hugh \\n Crain was a monster. He said that \\n he was a brutal, horrible man. He \\n told me that Crain drove his \\n workers to early deaths. Crain \\n had children chained to the looms \\n in his mill. And listen to this: \\n \",\n \"the \\n house, and about Hugh Crain... but \\n I'm asking you not to repeat it.\\n\\n LUKE\\n I can keep a secret.\\n\\n They go in. The house is outlined by the sky and clouds and the \\n moon.\\n\\n INT. MEZZANINE - NIGHT\\n\\n Luke catches up with Nell and Theo as he reaches the mezzanine. The\\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\\n behind.\\n\\n \",\n \"> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts, looks at the house with a strange feeling.\\n\\n NELL\\n That's so sad.\\n\\n This has been tense between them, a gunfight. POP! A LOG in the\\n fireplace makes everyone jump. Theo relishes it, but Nell shudders.\\n\\n MARY\\n I think there's more to the story. \\n This house\",\n \"The children Hugh \\n Crain built the house for. The \\n children he never had.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Come on. These are the typically \\n sentimental gestures of a depraved \\n industrialist.\\n\\n He puts his hand on a CHAIR, the back of which is heavily carved in\\n the motif he just described.\\n\\n Nell turns him an appalled look.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n Theo was working in the dining \",\n \" We can't hide in here! We won't \\n make it til morning.\\n\\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\\n\\n NELL\\n I know.\\n\\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \\n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \\n and they all look down in fear toward the great\",\n \"ALBUM of the late\\n nineteenth century, bound with ribbons, the aged Daguerreotypes in\\n pressed vellum frames.\\n\\n Nell peers closer. It's open to a faded, gray image taken long \\n before it became the convention to smile for a photograph: a woman, \\n RENE CRAIN, sitting in a chair.\\n\\n And standing behind the chair, a fearsome presence in a black coat,\\n his face hollow, malevolent. HUGH CRAIN.\\n\\n Nell\",\n \"ORMOUS OIL PAINTING. In it stands a man, his features lost in \\n the shadows above, only his body visible.\\n\\n The nameplate reads HUGH CRAIN.\\n\\n NELL\\n Hugh Crain.\\n\\n Nell looks up: Mrs. Dudley waits coldly at the top of the stairs.\\n\\n INT. 2ND FLOOR HALLWAY, NORTH WING - DAY\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley leads Nell down a curved hallway, over aged Persian\",\n \"LOR - DUSK\\n\\n Nell and Theo enter a room just off the landing, a lavish parlor \\n with the omnipresent panelled walls, lush red carpet, velvet \\n curtains sweeping floor to ceiling, heavy pieces of furniture. Nell \\n watches Theo explore. As Theo moves through the room, Nell's eye \\n lands on another painting of Hugh Crain. Inside it's ornate golden \\n framework, distinctive little cherubs are embedded. Cherubs of \\n\",\n \"Hugh Crain. Inside it's ornate golden \\n framework, distinctive little cherubs are embedded. Cherubs of \\n Death... She runs her fingers over it.\\n\\n THEO\\n Maybe you shouldn't touch --\\n\\n Theo twirls out of the room, Nell, anxious, behind her.\\n\\n INT. MEZZANINE - DUSK\\n\\n As they come out of Crain's study Theo stops at the top of the \\n stairs, Nell behind her.\\n\\n THE\",\n \"ene, and a house \\n filled with children.\\n\\n NELL\\n All the carvings.\\n\\n MARROW\\n But there's a sad catch to the \\n story.\\n\\n MARY\\n What happened?\\n\\n MARROW\\n There were no children. Rene \\n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts\",\n \"a fearsome presence in a black coat,\\n his face hollow, malevolent. HUGH CRAIN.\\n\\n Nell shivers, and SLIP, the page turns on its own.\\n\\n An image of Hugh and Rene, a look of deathly loss on their faces. \\n The page flips.\\n\\n Crain hovers, dark, rage just under the surface, but on Rene's face \\n is the faintest, most inappropriate SMILE. It sends a chill through \\n Nell.\\n\",\n \" died... How did you die?\\n\\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\\n\\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \\n see the book.\\n\\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\\n\\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is\",\n \" Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\\n\\n NELL\\n Hugh Crain. He's in the house. \\n He's still here...\\n\\n Theo pulls back, goes very still. The first hint of fear in her \\n eyes.\\n\\n THEO\\n No.\\n\\n Marrow sees the panic working on her, gives her a stern look:\\n\\n MARROW\\n Theo! You too. Listen to me.\\n\\n The command der\",\n \"s face \\n is the faintest, most inappropriate SMILE. It sends a chill through \\n Nell.\\n\\n The album begins to slide down the shelf, and as it does, PAGES \\n FLIP, Rene's SMILE grows wider, her hair dishevelled, her eyes lit \\n with grinning insanity...\\n\\n Nell grabs the book just as it falls from the shelf.\\n\\n It is open in her hands to a picture of Crain, alone, in front of \\n \",\n \" here... and he won't let go of \\n them!\\n\\n Marrow grabs her face.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell!\\n\\n Luke rushes in with a blanket. Theo covers Nell and then holds her,\\n gently.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Look at me, Nell. Look at me!\\n\\n Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\\n\\n NELL\\n Hugh Crain. He's\",\n \" They sit there in the darkness, panting.\\n\\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NEXT DAY\\n\\n Nell stares at the tableaux of Hugh Crain. In the morning light it\\n seems inert, cold, just a statue. Luke and Theo enter. Nell \\n doesn't seem to notice them until they're beside her.\\n\\n THEO\\n Marrow said the same thing as last \\n night, he <u>says</u> --\\n (meaning, this is\",\n \" Dr. Marrow, what is this house?\\n\\n When she says this, we should be seeing her from an odd perspective,\\n the house's POV.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n There was once a king who built a \\n palace. The King's name was Hugh \\n Crain. A hundred and thirty years \\n ago, when the Merrimack Valley was \\n the center of American industry, \\n Hugh Crain made two hundred \\n million\",\n \"crushed under the stands of a soccer stadium, the\\n aftermath of a riot. A picture of the Fuhrer before his mesmerized\\n masses. Mary opens a large envelope. She takes out a photograph \\n that we can't see.\\n\\n MARY\\n What's this?\\n (has to get his\\n attention)\\n What's this... this picture?\\n\\n MARROW\\n That? That's Hill House.\\n\\n MARY\\n This is where\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n Marrow, Theo and Luke, stricken silent by her entry. Looks of shock \\n on their faces. Nell just stands there. A beat. And then it pours \\n out of her, hysterical.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n He hunted all those children in \\n here. The dead children, Josiah \\n and Elizabeth and all of them... \\n from the books... he took them up \\n here... he played games... the \\n \",\n \"1, 1880. And its graven commandment, so familiar, so\\n comforting, now rings with terrible, malevolent promise:\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n Suffer the little children unto \\n me.\\n\\n There are three more grave stones, and after clearing away the \\n brush, they too show that the babies died after a few hours, or a \\n day. There's the same symbol on the graves of the children, a \\n cherub of death. We'\",\n \" Nell stares in drunken fascination. And as the first fear begins to\\n rise in her throat, the wind dies down and in its place there is the\\n FAINTEST TRACE OF CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER. Nell's reaction changes... \\n to awe.\\n\\n Tentative, her hand goes out, shaking... and touches the mantle.\\n\\n It is hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \\n FACES engraved in the wood all seem\",\n \"you think I did that. I \\n didn't! Go to the great hall and \\n look in the fireplace!\\n\\n She starts to laugh. Marrow gently presses Nell down, tucking the\\n blanket around her.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Why would we want to do that, \\n Nell?\\n\\n NELL\\n Because that's where he burned \\n them up, the child laborers from \\n his mills! Because that's where\",\n \", eight or nine feet, featureless, black, but in the\\n proportions of an enormous man with his head bowed, shoulders \\n stooped. And just like that, all it is...\\n\\n ...is a well of darkness and night once again. We don't even know \\n for sure what we just saw. But it is still there in that bar of \\n shadow.\\n\\n Nell goes rigid, not breathing, not seeing anything but the awful\\n presence. She is spellbound.\\n\\n BANG. A door\",\n \"that's where he burned \\n them up, the child laborers from \\n his mills! Because that's where \\n their bones are! He killed\\n <i>hundreds</i>. He took them here and\\n he killed them. Their bones are \\n in the fireplace!\\n\\n Nell sobs. The others exchange looks at this. It sounds so hollow, \\n so delusional, it makes Marrow look so right.\\n\\n MARROW\\n \",\n \", bare feet flying, covering her face\\n from MIRRORS left and right. She stumbles into --\\n\\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)\\n\\n -- the greenhouse where she slips on the marble. She kicks the door\\n shut behind her and lunges for the spiral staircase, her horror\\n driving her up and up, setting the rickety thing swinging. We HEAR\\n what Nell hears, the voices of children.\\n\\n VOICES OF CHILDRE\",\n \"HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n CLOSE ON THE BRASS GRIFFINS that guard the staircase.\\n\\n Behind Nell's back they all turn toward her, follow her with their\\n eyes as Nell enters the great hall. And they cower in fear for what \\n is about to happen. Again Nell call's out for Theo and Marrow.\\n\\n And Nell doesn't see the scores of TINY ARMS OF CHILDREN that fold \\n out from the carvings in the high backed chairs in the\",\n \", eyes trying to adjust, afraid. Behind them \\n looms the fireplace and in front of it, a metal cage-like fire \\n screen. A beat.\\n\\n BAM! SOMETHING LUNGES out of the fireplace but is caught in the\\n screen, hitting Nell and Theo in the back.\\n\\n Theo's lighter goes flying in that very instant, and we never see\\n what's hit the screen. Neither do they. Theo falls SCREAMING. \\n Nell manages\",\n \"the mezzanine. The\\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\\n behind.\\n\\n LUKE\\n He said that Hugh Crain... Hugh \\n Crain was a monster. He said that \\n he was a brutal, horrible man. He \\n told me that Crain drove his \\n workers to early deaths. Crain \\n had children chained to the looms \\n in his mill. And listen to this: \\n \",\n \"see the scores of TINY ARMS OF CHILDREN that fold \\n out from the carvings in the high backed chairs in the hall as Nell\\n carefully avoids stepping on the skulls and bones of the children \\n that cover the floor.\\n\\n Horrifyingly alive are these TINY HANDS as reach out for her hair\\n after she passes. We're screaming as they almost have her... and \\n Nell steps away.\\n\\n And then... CREAK... CREAK... CREAK...\\n\\n \",\n \"- NURSERY - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell stands there in the darkness, sensing the expanse of the room,\\n turning... and kicking something on the floor.\\n\\n It is a wooden toy train. Then she sees a rocking horse by her \\n feet. It is a NURSERY. Turn-of-the-century.\\n\\n And as Nell's eyes adjust, as she tries to see what else is in here \\n in the dark, she begins to make out WHITE SHROUDED SHAPES.\\n\\n\",\n \"His eyes are closed, unaware\\n his breath is fogging too.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell lies there afraid to move, afraid to make the faintest sound.\\n From the darkness above WOOD CREAKS. At first it seems like someone \\n is walking on the floor above. But it is coming from within the \\n room.\\n\\n The CARVINGS on the ceiling, the impossibly elaborate woodwork, ARE\\n MOVING. Incredibly slowly, with\",\n \" Oh, no... Oh... no... no, no... \\n not that... Oh no... Ohhhhhhhhh!\\n\\n Gaping cold and stench hit her. She gags.\\n\\n Now the CRY comes from under the door. Present. Real. Right \\n there. Nell shudders.\\n\\n The CRY grows louder, desperate. She shuts her ears to it. The CRY\\n rises to fearsome rage, not sounding like a child anymore. Not\\n sound\",\n \"HALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \\n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \\n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \\n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\\n\\n EXT. GATE - DA\",\n \"ene, and a house \\n filled with children.\\n\\n NELL\\n All the carvings.\\n\\n MARROW\\n But there's a sad catch to the \\n story.\\n\\n MARY\\n What happened?\\n\\n MARROW\\n There were no children. Rene \\n died, and <u>then</u> Hugh Crain built\\n all of this, and then he died. \\n His heart was broken.\\n\\n Nell shifts\",\n \"\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is in Nell's lap.\\n Nell sits on the bed in her sleeping tee-shirt and undies. Theo \\n looks at the book with her.\\n\\n THEO\\n That's so sad.\\n\\n NELL\\n There's hundreds of them. This \\n must be a record of the children \\n who died at the mills, like Luke\",\n \" At the end of the hallway, where all eyes are staring, the double\\n doors, the ones that scared Nell and Theo stand shut.\\n\\n That something gathering at the edge of our hearing RISES. Rises as \\n if the House itself is breathing.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n BUMP. The sound thuds the stillness of the House. Bump. Bump. \\n Bump. Deep, hollow, distant like a dream. Nell sits up, still \",\n \" NELL\\n After Rene... after she killed \\n herself... he turned into a \\n monster. He did fill the house \\n with children... he did, but... \\n they weren't laughing...\\n\\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \\n a padded bench on one side of the room.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, what happened?\\n\\n NELL\\n Carolyn showed me where she hid \",\n \"red timber or two sticking out. Sick with fear, Nell prods the\\n ash. Just charred wood.\\n\\n She thrusts the poker down deep. It vanishes in the ash up to her\\n hand. CLACK. She rakes through the ash. CLACK. And then she \\n feels the poker take purchase. She draws it out, and full of dread \\n turns it to the light...\\n\\n Impaled on its hooks are TWO HUMAN SKULLS.\\n\\n Nell fights back the\"\n ],\n [\n \"others stand there speechless.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n I have to stay. You better go. I \\n could explain it, but you'd never \\n understand.\\n\\n And that, finally, galvanizes the others into action. Marrow sweeps\\n past Theo, grabs Nell hard, and swings her for the door.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Come on.\\n\\n NELL\\n No --\\n\\n THEO\\n Please, N\",\n \"You know that, Nell.\\n\\n This is horrifying to Nell, being doubted and accused of something \\n so ugly if it were true.\\n\\n NELL\\n I don't know anything. Whoever \\n did this, please, just... just say \\n so... just... please... this is \\n cruel. Don't be cruel to me. I \\n can't stand it. You don't know \\n me.\\n\\n And she runs out.\\n\",\n \". It goes out of focus and we can't see it as we\\n follow --\\n\\n -- NELL flying away, across the room in headlong terror.\\n\\n INT. FOYER - DAY\\n\\n Nell slams out of the room, skidding as the door slams behind her. \\n She sways up off the floor to run --\\n\\n -- right into Marrow and Theo's legs. Nell aborts a scream, \\n realizing who it is. Theo stands there in surprise, holding papers \\n in\",\n \"Other doors lead off the room. Nell\\n follows.\\n\\n THEO\\n This is a serious question, but do \\n you think the Dudleys ever make \\n love in this room? They're alone \\n in the house, no one watching. No \\n one... no one watching. You can \\n do what you want.\\n\\n Theo goes running for another door and is out.\\n\\n Nell, realizing she's being left behind, springs after her into \",\n \"with her into infinity. Theo dances after her. They dance, not \\n quite together. Nell stops and pronounces:\\n\\n NELL\\n I love this house. I really love \\n this house.\\n\\n THEO\\n (gently, recognizes \\n that Nell is \\n different)\\n You're okay.\\n\\n Nell blushes... and they burst out laughing. They take off running,\\n their reflections with them, stampeding for an\",\n \"wouldn't you be \\n leaving right this second? Why \\n wouldn't you be afraid? Really \\n afraid.\\n\\n NELL\\n Because I don't want to ruin \\n things. Because home is where the \\n heart is.\\n\\n Theo is chilled by this answer which would only make sense to \\n someone out of her mind.\\n\\n Nell looks up and sees the double staircase at the end of the\\n greenhouse... the one where Crain's wife\",\n \"Mrs. Dudley lays Theo's suitcase on a luggage stand.\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n Breakfast is at nine. I don't \\n stay after dinner. Not after it \\n begins to get dark.\\n\\n Theo, back to Mrs. Dudley, rolls her eyes at Nell.\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY (cont'd)\\n I leave, before dark. So there \\n won't be anyone around if you need\",\n \" Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\\n\\n NELL\\n Hugh Crain. He's in the house. \\n He's still here...\\n\\n Theo pulls back, goes very still. The first hint of fear in her \\n eyes.\\n\\n THEO\\n No.\\n\\n Marrow sees the panic working on her, gives her a stern look:\\n\\n MARROW\\n Theo! You too. Listen to me.\\n\\n The command der\",\n \" NELL\\n After Rene... after she killed \\n herself... he turned into a \\n monster. He did fill the house \\n with children... he did, but... \\n they weren't laughing...\\n\\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \\n a padded bench on one side of the room.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, what happened?\\n\\n NELL\\n Carolyn showed me where she hid \",\n \". She breaks into a run. The cry \\n sounds from farther off. Nell chases after it.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Theo carrying a pot of tea and some cups enters quietly just in case\\n Nell is asleep. She stops in surprise. The window is smashed, lamp \\n on the floor. Nell is gone.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell?\\n\\n INT. NELL'S HALLWAY - NORTH WING - NIGHT\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n are looking back at them, Nell goes cold. Theo holds herself.\\n\\n NELL\\n We should go back.\\n\\n Theo nods. They turn around, Theo opening what she thinks was the \\n door they came through.\\n\\n INT. NARROW STAIRCASE - DUSK\\n\\n They hurry down a narrow staircase, Theo first, Nell right behind.\\n\\n NELL\\n Theo, I'm scared --\\n\\n They fly down a set of steps, The\",\n \"to \\n anyone. That was the job I had, \\n Theo, it's the only job I've ever \\n known, and I failed. I'm actually \\n a bad person, Theo. The world \\n doesn't need me.\\n\\n Theo shakes her head, brushes at her eyes. The confession, on the \\n top of the fright, has moved her deeply.\\n\\n THEO\\n Oh, Nell. Eleven years. With\",\n \"Luke goes out. But Nell pauses, stopping Theo with her.\\n\\n The House is quiet. Marrow's hand still outstretched. Nell looks\\n around the room. There are heads everywhere, faces: animal heads,\\n humans, gods, all staring from the woodwork, the carpets everything.\\n All turning to her.\\n\\n Theo looks around, but can't see what Nell is seeing. Nell's breath\\n comes faster, disoriented, yet aware...\\n\\n NELL\\n \",\n \"here with you.\\n\\n Silence. The others are embarrassed by her sincerity. She's right,\\n Nell is not of their world.\\n\\n MARROW\\n We're glad you're here.\\n\\n He says this with enough sympathy for Theo to see his interest in \\n the girl in the thrift shop dress.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Why don't we move to another room?\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - NIGHT\\n\\n The H\",\n \"another. She doesn't want to. But she \\n forces a smile and points to one on the left. They both disappear \\n into the dark gothic hallway.\\n\\n INT. SMALL PARLOR (CONFUSING ROOMS) - DUSK\\n\\n Theo breezes into a small parlor with heavy green velvet curtains,\\n panelled walls, rich settees. Other doors lead off the room. Nell\\n follows.\\n\\n THEO\\n This is a serious question, but do \",\n \"gaze, looks away. Theo reads Nell's look, and \\n releases her foot. She sits back in the chair. For a moment Nell \\n doesn't know what to do.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n I better go to bed.\\n\\n THEO\\n Are you sure?\\n\\n NELL\\n I think so.\\n\\n THEO\\n Okay.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell closes the door\",\n \" be together, with Nell.\\n\\n And they go. Three scared people.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S BATHROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Luke sits on the closed toilet and watches Nell in the adjoining \\n room. Light from the bathroom falls across her fetal, curled form \\n in the bed.\\n\\n The door to Theo's room is open too. Luke glances over. Theo lies \\n on her bed. Marrow is slouched in a chair.\\n\\n Luke\",\n \"\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, what happened?\\n\\n NELL\\n Carolyn showed me where she hid \\n him, hid him with all the ones he \\n killed --\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell... please, Nell... take a \\n deep breath...\\n\\n NELL\\n And they're all locked together in \\n here... and he won't let go of \\n them!\\n\\n Marrow grabs her face.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n THEO (cont'd)\\n Cold. Oh, God. Feel it.\\n\\n She looks up in horror at Nell. Their breath FOGS in the air. Nell\\n holds her hand up in front of her, and as we watch HER HAIR PRICKLES\\n UP, GOOSEBUMPS WITH THEM.\\n\\n Her eyes turn up to the door, and: BAMBABAMBAM BABBA BAM! The DOOR\\n JARS in its frame, leaping from the\",\n \"s moving fast.\\n\\n She dodges toward the archway where Theo and Marrow went, and STOPS.\\n It's a wall. Solid wall. There's no archway here! Nell backs \\n away. Alone.\\n\\n The House has separated them.\\n\\n Nell tries to open any of the hall doors, but they are all locked.\\n There's no other way then going back.\\n\\n INT. MEZZANINE - DAY\\n\\n Nell is back in the mezzanine\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n and Nell heard him. She thought \\n it was ghosts. Let's go look for \\n him again.\\n\\n MARROW\\n No. If he's lost somewhere in the \\n house... he'll have to stay lost \\n until tomorrow, until the night is \\n over. What we have to do now is \\n be together, with Nell.\\n\\n And they go. Three scared people.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S BATH\",\n \" died... How did you die?\\n\\n Nell turns the pages. More and more crosses. Dozens. Scores.\\n\\n Nell sinks down into Crain's chair and tears come to her eyes. We \\n see the book.\\n\\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - NIGHT\\n\\n The painting is right there now. The letters have been erased.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is\",\n \"bed, furniture, all in blue purple. An open \\n door gives a glimpse of a bathroom.\\n\\n A large fireplace dominates one wall. Its mantle is carved with \\n the faces of children, happy, at play, alive. Nell touches the \\n wood, loving.\\n\\n NELL\\n They're so beautiful. Aren't \\n they?\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n I've seen 'em. Lot to dust.\\n\\n NELL\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n We see the ledger, and pull back, and the ledger is in Nell's lap.\\n Nell sits on the bed in her sleeping tee-shirt and undies. Theo \\n looks at the book with her.\\n\\n THEO\\n That's so sad.\\n\\n NELL\\n There's hundreds of them. This \\n must be a record of the children \\n who died at the mills, like Luke\",\n \"with her into infinity. Theo dances after her. They dance, not \\n quite together. Nell stops and pronounces:\\n\\n NELL\\n I love this house. I really love \\n this house.\\n\\n THEO\\n (gently, recognizes \\n that Nell is \\n different)\\n You're okay.\\n\\n Nell blushes... and they burst out laughing. They take off running,\\n their reflections with them, stampeding for an\",\n \" Nell stares in drunken fascination. And as the first fear begins to\\n rise in her throat, the wind dies down and in its place there is the\\n FAINTEST TRACE OF CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER. Nell's reaction changes... \\n to awe.\\n\\n Tentative, her hand goes out, shaking... and touches the mantle.\\n\\n It is hard and still. No movement whatsoever. Silence. But the \\n FACES engraved in the wood all seem\",\n \"s body just hangs there... and then it\\n gently falls down.\\n\\n Theo lets out a horrified cry as she runs toward Nell.\\n\\n THEO\\n NELL!\\n\\n Marrow gets up off the floor in terror and awe, his life his \\n beliefs changed forever. He walks over to Nell and feels her pulse, \\n knowing it is a useless gesture as Theo softly moans over Nell.\\n\\n And as the camera pans up across the entry door, we see a new \\n carving\",\n \"you think I did that. I \\n didn't! Go to the great hall and \\n look in the fireplace!\\n\\n She starts to laugh. Marrow gently presses Nell down, tucking the\\n blanket around her.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Why would we want to do that, \\n Nell?\\n\\n NELL\\n Because that's where he burned \\n them up, the child laborers from \\n his mills! Because that's where\",\n \" top of the fright, has moved her deeply.\\n\\n THEO\\n Oh, Nell. Eleven years. With all \\n due respect to your mother who I'm \\n sure was a saint, I'd have called \\n Doctor Kevorkian, if not for her, \\n for me.\\n\\n It's such a horrible thought it makes Nell smile, and they share a\\n tearful laugh.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S BATHROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n N\",\n \"\\n\\n Nell lies in her bed asleep, the room dark except for the last,\\n guttering end of one of the candles. It goes out.\\n\\n A FAINT SOUND. LONG, LOW, like the inarticulate murmur of a dozen\\n madmen. Nell stirs. Her eyes open. She hears the sound.\\n\\n The wall on the opposite side of the room catches the pale gloom \\n from the window. The twisting figures in the plaster, the low-\\n relief\",\n \"\\n day. There's the same symbol on the graves of the children, a \\n cherub of death. We've seen this image before. Nell backs out of \\n the cemetery, afraid.\\n\\n INT. MEZZANINE - DAY\\n\\n Nell hurries down the mezzanine to the doorway which leads to the \\n Red Parlor.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n She stands there a beat staring in at the volumes upon volumes of\\n books. Nell\",\n \" NELL\\n After Rene... after she killed \\n herself... he turned into a \\n monster. He did fill the house \\n with children... he did, but... \\n they weren't laughing...\\n\\n Nell is ugly, sprawling, in shock, as Theo and Marrow shuffle her to \\n a padded bench on one side of the room.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, what happened?\\n\\n NELL\\n Carolyn showed me where she hid \",\n \"jolting Nell. She stops and stares. \\n Outside the window, through the glass, she sees Mr. Dudley, staring \\n at her, he's been watching her dance. The spell is broken. Nell, \\n embarrassed, can't bear to look at him.\\n\\n A beat, and then Marrow goes over and shuts the door. When he turns\\n back --\\n\\n -- Nell is just vanishing around the corner, her rapid footsteps\\n echoing in the vaulted room.\\n\\n \",\n \"tries to see what else is in here \\n in the dark, she begins to make out WHITE SHROUDED SHAPES.\\n\\n Against the wall. A bed covered in a sheet. A table beside it. A \\n HAND BELL. A CANE.\\n\\n <u>Just like Nell's sick room at home</u>. Nell realizes it, covers her\\n mouth.\\n\\n The furniture is in EXACTLY the same position, though the sheets\\n covering the pieces are stained, FAR OLD\",\n \". This is her chance. But...\\n\\n Mrs. Dudley smiles a knowing smile. An all too knowing smile. And\\n seeing Nell's decision, gently shuts the door. The LOCK CLICKS. \\n Final. Fate-sealing.\\n\\n Nell turns back to the House, lost.\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - DAY\\n\\n Nell walks right up to the moveable bookcase and enters Crain's \\n secret study.\\n\\n INT. CRAIN'\",\n \"Nell. Luke and Theo look up. Mute dread. No Nell anywhere.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Oh, no.\\n\\n INT. GRAND ENTRY - NIGHT\\n\\n The massive black door swings silently into the dark, vaulted entry.\\n Marrow pauses there, looks about, and then enters. He holds a tire\\n iron.\\n\\n Luke does too. He and Theo follow Marrow in.\\n\\n THEO\\n I'm sure she went back to her \\n\",\n \"ible voice, like a \\n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\\n\\n EXT. GATE - DAWN\\n\\n Theo and Marrow stand on the far side of Nell's wrecked car. On the\\n other side of the gate Mr. Dudley is undoing the chain. Mrs. Dudley\\n stares at the ragged duo.\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n (her final verdict)\\n City people.\\n\\n Mr. Dudley\",\n \"\\n Marrow, Theo and Luke, stricken silent by her entry. Looks of shock \\n on their faces. Nell just stands there. A beat. And then it pours \\n out of her, hysterical.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n He hunted all those children in \\n here. The dead children, Josiah \\n and Elizabeth and all of them... \\n from the books... he took them up \\n here... he played games... the \\n \",\n \"ell goes rigid, not breathing, not seeing anything but the awful\\n presence. She is spellbound.\\n\\n BANG. A door in the connecting passage opens, and Theo and Marrow \\n come out, between Nell in the entry and the thing in the Great Hall \\n beyond.\\n\\n In a flash the SHAPE is moving at Theo and Marrow. They don't see \\n it, have their backs turned.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell! There you --\\n\\n But Nell is looking past them\",\n \"others stand there speechless.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n I have to stay. You better go. I \\n could explain it, but you'd never \\n understand.\\n\\n And that, finally, galvanizes the others into action. Marrow sweeps\\n past Theo, grabs Nell hard, and swings her for the door.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Come on.\\n\\n NELL\\n No --\\n\\n THEO\\n Please, N\"\n ],\n [\n \" We can't hide in here! We won't \\n make it til morning.\\n\\n Nell looks at him, pitying. Infinitely sad, but guarding them.\\n\\n NELL\\n I know.\\n\\n Behind them the huge painting of Hugh Crain in a golden frame with\\n sharp metal spikes, looks down at them. The room inhales and \\n exhales, the bumping sound resumes. A rumble runs through the house \\n and they all look down in fear toward the great\",\n \"the mezzanine. The\\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\\n behind.\\n\\n LUKE\\n He said that Hugh Crain... Hugh \\n Crain was a monster. He said that \\n he was a brutal, horrible man. He \\n told me that Crain drove his \\n workers to early deaths. Crain \\n had children chained to the looms \\n in his mill. And listen to this: \\n \",\n \" looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \\n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\\n\\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \\n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\\n\\n NELL\\n Finally.\\n\\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\\n\\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is\",\n \" Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\\n\\n NELL\\n Hugh Crain. He's in the house. \\n He's still here...\\n\\n Theo pulls back, goes very still. The first hint of fear in her \\n eyes.\\n\\n THEO\\n No.\\n\\n Marrow sees the panic working on her, gives her a stern look:\\n\\n MARROW\\n Theo! You too. Listen to me.\\n\\n The command der\",\n \"\\n The SHAPE hovers there, silent. Air and shadow distort around it. \\n The carved animal heads on the Newell posts and walls loll back and \\n forth, alive then not-alive. Pieces of furniture stamp in fury, try \\n to animate themselves, but can't find limbs that work.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n Come on, Hugh Crain, you know what \\n to do. We've both been here \\n before.\\n\\n The\",\n \", eyes trying to adjust, afraid. Behind them \\n looms the fireplace and in front of it, a metal cage-like fire \\n screen. A beat.\\n\\n BAM! SOMETHING LUNGES out of the fireplace but is caught in the\\n screen, hitting Nell and Theo in the back.\\n\\n Theo's lighter goes flying in that very instant, and we never see\\n what's hit the screen. Neither do they. Theo falls SCREAMING. \\n Nell manages\",\n \"-- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is only from up here on the second \\n floor with this curtain open that the FACE is visible in the late-\\n day sunlight.\\n\\n Despite the artist's discretion, the lines in the man's skin, his\\n eyes, his posture, cry of unspeakable sickness.\\n\\n Unconsciously, Nell takes a step back. In the far b.g., near the \\n \",\n \" here... and he won't let go of \\n them!\\n\\n Marrow grabs her face.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell!\\n\\n Luke rushes in with a blanket. Theo covers Nell and then holds her,\\n gently.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Look at me, Nell. Look at me!\\n\\n Nell manages to focus on him, her breath laboring.\\n\\n NELL\\n Hugh Crain. He's\",\n \"into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \\n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth and sends \\n Luke flying through the chain curtains.\\n\\n The others are speechless. They can do nothing but watch as Luke \\n lays there on the ashdrop. A long moment.\\n\\n NELL\\n (to the house, to\\n Crain)\\n No! No! Let them go!\\n\\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to\",\n \", Hugh Crain, you know what \\n to do. We've both been here \\n before.\\n\\n The SHAPE HOWLS FORWARD, knocking everyone out of their seats. It\\n flies across the floor at Nell.\\n\\n Marrow and Theo are slammed against the walls out of its way.\\n\\n Nell OPENS WIDE HER ARMS in an EMBRACE.\\n\\n It's ON HER, but just as it seems to hit, it SPLITS like she went\\n right through\",\n \"leans up \\n against the sink, arms folded. Theo and Nell turn to look at him. \\n A beat. And then:\\n\\n BUMP. Bump bump. It's the sound. Luke goes over to the door, \\n pushes it open.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Oh, look! There he goes, ol' Hugh \\n Crain!\\n\\n INT. GROUND FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT\\n\\n VARIOUS SHOTS as the bumping\",\n \"His eyes are closed, unaware\\n his breath is fogging too.\\n\\n INT. NELL'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Nell lies there afraid to move, afraid to make the faintest sound.\\n From the darkness above WOOD CREAKS. At first it seems like someone \\n is walking on the floor above. But it is coming from within the \\n room.\\n\\n The CARVINGS on the ceiling, the impossibly elaborate woodwork, ARE\\n MOVING. Incredibly slowly, with\",\n \"never see\\n what's hit the screen. Neither do they. Theo falls SCREAMING. \\n Nell manages to whirl, embrace the cage and slam it with whatever's \\n inside back into the fireplace. The screen JOLTS hard enough to \\n lift Nell.\\n\\n NELL\\n HELP!\\n\\n Theo still SCREAMING, lying on her back before the fireplace, rams \\n her feet against it. The screen HAMMERS at Nell and The\",\n \"around \\n us. Don't get in the way, please.\\n\\n Nell cinches the shoelace tight around his wrist.\\n\\n Luke throws down the chair, giving up on the window.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Shit! All right, you \\n sonofabitch...\\n\\n As he looks up at another one of Crain's painting hanging on the \\n wall. Nell Theo with Marrow straggle toward the great hall.\\n\\n INT. VESTIBULE TO\",\n \" They sit there in the darkness, panting.\\n\\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NEXT DAY\\n\\n Nell stares at the tableaux of Hugh Crain. In the morning light it\\n seems inert, cold, just a statue. Luke and Theo enter. Nell \\n doesn't seem to notice them until they're beside her.\\n\\n THEO\\n Marrow said the same thing as last \\n night, he <u>says</u> --\\n (meaning, this is\",\n \"'s a wail of \\n agony. A wail not of this earth. Nell struggles, racked between \\n the pain in her hand and the tortured child's cry.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n A child. No. No! I'm right \\n HERE!\\n\\n The EYE focusses on her. Dead on her. Nell stops. And with sudden\\n violence, she's WRENCHED out of the bed by whatever's\",\n \"\\n\\n Nell lies in her bed asleep, the room dark except for the last,\\n guttering end of one of the candles. It goes out.\\n\\n A FAINT SOUND. LONG, LOW, like the inarticulate murmur of a dozen\\n madmen. Nell stirs. Her eyes open. She hears the sound.\\n\\n The wall on the opposite side of the room catches the pale gloom \\n from the window. The twisting figures in the plaster, the low-\\n relief\",\n \"In the night...\\n\\n The DOOR BAMS SHUT with a concussion that rocks the entire room,\\n sweeping Luke's jacket under it. The HANDLES TURN, LOCK DOWN.\\n\\n Stunned. All stunned.\\n\\n A RUSH OF AIR. The House EXHALES. Silence. And then CREEEEAK. \\n They cast their eyes back up the stairs.\\n\\n BUMP BUMP. Far-off sounds, hair-raising, of infinite variety, carry\\n down\",\n \"HALES. And BOOM!\\n\\n The front doors blast wide. Every door in the entry slams open.\\n\\n EXT. HILL HOUSE - EARLY MORNING\\n\\n Against the early light of a rising sun, the silhouette of Hill \\n House. Every window and every door in the House is open, each and \\n every one CRYING OUT with a different, unintelligible voice, like a \\n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\\n\\n EXT. GATE - DA\",\n \"s the vast fireplace, its chain curtains hanging like the \\n veil to some hellish sanctuary.\\n\\n Nell stares at it, daunted. What is it that Carolyn is trying to \\n show her? The fireplace beckons, and Nell approaches against her \\n will.\\n\\n She finds a steel poker hanging by the fireplace, and takes it down.\\n She uses it to slide one of the chain curtains open. She steps into\\n its soot-black mouth.\\n\\n Nell peers up the\"\n ],\n [\n \"the mezzanine. The\\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\\n behind.\\n\\n LUKE\\n He said that Hugh Crain... Hugh \\n Crain was a monster. He said that \\n he was a brutal, horrible man. He \\n told me that Crain drove his \\n workers to early deaths. Crain \\n had children chained to the looms \\n in his mill. And listen to this: \\n \",\n \"The children Hugh \\n Crain built the house for. The \\n children he never had.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Come on. These are the typically \\n sentimental gestures of a depraved \\n industrialist.\\n\\n He puts his hand on a CHAIR, the back of which is heavily carved in\\n the motif he just described.\\n\\n Nell turns him an appalled look.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n Theo was working in the dining \",\n \"snaps shut again, taking Luke's\\n head off his body.\\n\\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like a puppet \\n with its strings cut.\\n\\n Nell, Marrow and Theo stand there. Not sure of what just happened,\\n their minds unable to accept it.\\n\\n A sound comes up in Theo's throat. A sob. A horrified whimper. \\n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \\n obvious will make it\",\n \"the \\n house, and about Hugh Crain... but \\n I'm asking you not to repeat it.\\n\\n LUKE\\n I can keep a secret.\\n\\n They go in. The house is outlined by the sky and clouds and the \\n moon.\\n\\n INT. MEZZANINE - NIGHT\\n\\n Luke catches up with Nell and Theo as he reaches the mezzanine. The\\n painting of Hugh Crain, barely visible in the shadows, looms right\\n behind.\\n\\n \",\n \", he LIGHTS a towering TAPESTRY on fire.\\n\\n He races from one to the next, lighting them. Theo and Nell help\\n Marrow up, back away as Luke shoots by.\\n\\n All the tapestries are ON FIRE, blazing up like torches.\\n\\n At last, his rage spent, heaving, he moves to join the others at the\\n center of the room. They stare at him, appalled, afraid. Knowing \\n he has done something wrong.\\n\\n Luke stops\",\n \"of the room. They stare at him, appalled, afraid. Knowing \\n he has done something wrong.\\n\\n Luke stops. Maybe fifteen feet away. He sees their expressions.\\n\\n LUKE\\n What?\\n\\n Nell looks over at the burning tapestries. Heat sears the stone,\\n blackens the carved figures in the woodwork.\\n\\n The ruddy light casts deep shadows throughout the room.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n We'll get out after this\",\n \"-- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is only from up here on the second \\n floor with this curtain open that the FACE is visible in the late-\\n day sunlight.\\n\\n Despite the artist's discretion, the lines in the man's skin, his\\n eyes, his posture, cry of unspeakable sickness.\\n\\n Unconsciously, Nell takes a step back. In the far b.g., near the \\n \",\n \" Crain)\\n No! No! Let them go!\\n\\n She knows what is going to happen, is powerless to prevent it. Luke\\n stands up, has time to give her a look.\\n\\n And then the LION'S HEAD FLUE drops open behind him. Luke looks \\n back into its iron eyes --\\n\\n -- and with SHOCKING SPEED the FLUE snaps shut again, taking Luke's\\n head off his body.\\n\\n The decapitated corpse falls back in the fireplace like\",\n \" They sit there in the darkness, panting.\\n\\n INT. GREENHOUSE - NEXT DAY\\n\\n Nell stares at the tableaux of Hugh Crain. In the morning light it\\n seems inert, cold, just a statue. Luke and Theo enter. Nell \\n doesn't seem to notice them until they're beside her.\\n\\n THEO\\n Marrow said the same thing as last \\n night, he <u>says</u> --\\n (meaning, this is\",\n \" lasts a few heartbeats.\\n\\n He looks away. A flicker of distress crosses Nell's face. And then \\n she realizes Marrow is looking at --\\n\\n -- Luke.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n You have to see something.\\n\\n INT. GRAND STAIRWAY - DAY\\n\\n Luke, Nell and Marrow mount the stairs, climb up and up. They find\\n Theo in the mezzanine staring at the wall at the painting. \",\n \" NELL (cont'd)\\n No...\\n\\n But the substance doesn't come from the ceiling.\\n\\n It is as if the oils on the PAINTING OF HUGH CRAIN have been boiled \\n by a heat gun and blasted off, running down from there. Hugh's face \\n is gone. In place of the face, the underlying ivory of the canvas \\n glares out... like a skull.\\n\\n Nell SCREAMS and runs away, the others calling out after her in \",\n \"ified whimper. \\n Marrow and Nell stand there speechless. It's as if saying the \\n obvious will make it real:\\n\\n MARROW\\n Luke.\\n\\n BANG. The blood-splattered LION'S HEAD drops open. Luke's head \\n falls out.\\n\\n Theo SCREAMS and SCREAMS again. Nell backs away with Marrow, almost\\n has the presence of mind to drag them away, but --\\n\\n -- CLANG! The A\",\n \"'s hundreds of them. This \\n must be a record of the children \\n who died at the mills, like Luke \\n said.\\n\\n THEO\\n Before he painted your name over \\n Mister Crain.\\n\\n Theo hands her the bottle. Nell takes it, tops off her glass,\\n spilling. Her face is red. She grimaces as she tosses back a big\\n swallow.\\n\\n NELL\\n You really think it was Luke?\\n\\n \",\n \" looks down on the driveway. Outside a BEIGE CAR crunches over the \\n gravel. Somebody else has arrived.\\n\\n Nell watches the car move past, trying to get a glimpse of the \\n driver, but from up here, all she can see is roof.\\n\\n NELL\\n Finally.\\n\\n She backs away from the window, spins around --\\n\\n -- and out of the darkness, powerful, mad, looms the visage of Hugh\\n Crain. It is the painting. It is\",\n \"runs over \\n to help him and shoves the tire iron between the doors and PRIES. \\n Marrow throws the useless thing down and stands back.\\n\\n Luke joins him, and they shoulder block it together. But this door \\n is MASSIVE. There's no way.\\n\\n LUKE\\n No you bastard! Break!\\n\\n He roundhouse kicks it, hurts himself.\\n\\n Theo, afraid, watches the Great Hall behind them. Nell puts her \\n hand on her\",\n \"of cloth fall to the floor and go out, there is \\n utter silence.\\n\\n INT. GREAT HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n Luke looks at them helplessly. An awful, impending beat. Without\\n warning, the huge PERSIAN CARPET he's standing on JERKS out from \\n under him. Luke falls on his stomach.\\n\\n Stunned, Luke looks straight into Nell's eyes. Then the carpet \\n slides fast for the FIREPLACE. It whips up to the hearth\",\n \"him.\\n (beat)\\n Can you tell me, what sort of car \\n does he drive?\\n (beat, reacting)\\n A Toyota...\\n\\n INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE KITCHEN - NIGHT\\n\\n Luke stops Theo, carrying a tray of food and tea, outside the \\n kitchen door.\\n\\n THEO\\n We're fucked. We're in a haunted \\n house and we can't get out until \\n the morning.\",\n \" Maybe \\n they're not even his.\\n\\n LUKE\\n Then he's got to be in the \\n house...\\n\\n As they leave, the CAMERA LINGERS on a covered shape in one of the\\n stalls, SMALLER than the other carriages, it could be a car. A \\n broken wagon wheel leaning against it.\\n\\n INT. STATUARY HALL AND SHORT MONTAGE THROUGH HOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Marrow, Theo and Luke\",\n \". A figure stands and comes over. It's \\n Luke, stretching.\\n\\n LUKE (cont'd)\\n I've been thinking about these \\n carvings. Kids. Lots of kids. \\n Fat little angel kids. Wild kids. \\n Kids with furry animals.\\n\\n NELL\\n The children. The children Hugh \\n Crain built the house for. The \\n children he never had.\\n\\n LUKE\",\n \"\\n\\n Luke grimaces, shifts into low, pours on the gas.\\n\\n EXT. MAIN GATE - NIGHT\\n\\n The car fishes back and forth against the gate, hurling a shower of\\n gravel on the other cars off to the side of the road. Marrow, Nell \\n and Theo move back.\\n\\n One of the Buick's headlights breaks. The grill mashes in. For a \\n long moment the car struggles against the Gate. No good. Luke \\n eases\"\n ],\n [\n \" Mrs. Dudley\\n stares at the ragged duo.\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n (her final verdict)\\n City people.\\n\\n Mr. Dudley can barely get one side of the gate open with the car\\n crushed in it. Theo and Marrow emerge, dazed, into the real world\\n again.\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n You find out what you wanted to \\n know, mister?\\n\\n Marrow stares at him, he\",\n \"udley, the\\n caretaker?\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n Yeah, I'm Mister Dudley, the \\n caretaker. What are you doing \\n here?\\n\\n NELL\\n I'm with Dr. Marrow's group. I'm \\n supposed to check in with Mrs. \\n Dudley up at the house. Is she \\n here?\\n\\n She hands him the directions. He glances at them.\",\n \" MRS. DUDLEY\\n (her final verdict)\\n City people.\\n\\n Mr. Dudley can barely get one side of the gate open with the car\\n crushed in it. Theo and Marrow emerge, dazed, into the real world\\n again.\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n You find out what you wanted to \\n know, mister?\\n\\n Marrow stares at him, he's an exhausted man. He walks away, Theo\\n beside him.\\n\",\n \" NELL\\n You can call me Nell, Dr. Marrow.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Nell. Good enough. And I'm Jim.\\n\\n NELL\\n I'm really... honored to be part \\n of this study, Jim.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Well... we're glad to have you.\\n\\n His smile is devastating. Nell reddens, instantly taken by Marrow's\\n warmth, observant sensitivity. <u>Theo not\",\n \" MARROW\\n The cold sensation. Who felt it \\n first?\\n\\n NELL\\n Theo I think. You've asked us \\n that three times, Doctor Marrow. \\n What's going on?\\n\\n MARROW\\n How do you feel about Luke's \\n suggestion that it was just the \\n old plumbing? Water hammer, \\n something like that?\\n\\n Theo and Nell look at each other in frustration. \",\n \" And then Mrs. Dudley\\n backs out of the room, shuts the door.\\n\\n NELL (cont'd)\\n My room is right next door. I \\n think we share a bathroom.\\n\\n Theo has an interesting eye on Nell, she's studying her.\\n\\n THEO\\n Don't worry, I probably won't be \\n in here much. Light sleeper.\\n\\n NELL\\n That's why we're here.\\n\\n \",\n \"s enough, Mister Dudley.\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n She stepped off the platform.\\n (he looks up, with \\n a suggestive leer)\\n They had long skirts in those \\n days.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Thank you, Mister Dudley, \\n please...\\n\\n MR. DUDLEY\\n House is full of stories. If you \\n know how to read these things, \\n it's\",\n \".\\n\\n MARROW\\n For an American you do a good \\n imitation of the British at their \\n most apologetic.\\n (Veddy British)\\n Pardon me. Excuse me, sorry, \\n sorry...\\n\\n Nell smiles. Theo walks in the door, sees Nell and Marrow, Nell\\n squeezed in behind him.\\n\\n NELL\\n Am I that bad?\\n\\n Theo is aware of Marrow's curiosity and fascination\",\n \"jolting Nell. She stops and stares. \\n Outside the window, through the glass, she sees Mr. Dudley, staring \\n at her, he's been watching her dance. The spell is broken. Nell, \\n embarrassed, can't bear to look at him.\\n\\n A beat, and then Marrow goes over and shuts the door. When he turns\\n back --\\n\\n -- Nell is just vanishing around the corner, her rapid footsteps\\n echoing in the vaulted room.\\n\\n \",\n \" on the stairs. Theo touches her. She starts.\\n\\n THEO\\n Nell, it was an accident.\\n\\n INT. MARROW'S BEDROOM (PART OF CONFUSING ROOMS) - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow, sitting at a desk, speaks into a digital voice recorder. \\n His voice is cold, analytical.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Icebreaker exercise conducted over \\n dinner. Observed initial bonding \\n among subjects and experimenter.\",\n \"about this.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Hmm.\\n\\n NELL\\n I'm sorry. I'm messing up the \\n study.\\n\\n MARROW\\n No you're not. Something moved \\n you. You saw something.\\n\\n Nell looks to him. He's sincere. He believes her.\\n\\n NELL\\n I don't know. Maybe I...\\n\\n \\\"Didn't\\\" she almost says. \",\n \"here with you.\\n\\n Silence. The others are embarrassed by her sincerity. She's right,\\n Nell is not of their world.\\n\\n MARROW\\n We're glad you're here.\\n\\n He says this with enough sympathy for Theo to see his interest in \\n the girl in the thrift shop dress.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n Why don't we move to another room?\\n\\n INT. RED PARLOR - NIGHT\\n\\n The H\",\n \"\\n us? David! Daviiiiid!\\n\\n INT. KITCHEN - DAY\\n\\n Marrow comes through the kitchen. Mrs. Dudley, chopping carrots,\\n stands by the counter. Only the slightest pause in the rhythm of \\n her chopping says she's noticed him.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Do you know who these keys belong \\n to?\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n No.\\n\\n MARROW\\n \",\n \"ible voice, like a \\n soul, the soul of a child, escaping from each one.\\n\\n EXT. GATE - DAWN\\n\\n Theo and Marrow stand on the far side of Nell's wrecked car. On the\\n other side of the gate Mr. Dudley is undoing the chain. Mrs. Dudley\\n stares at the ragged duo.\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n (her final verdict)\\n City people.\\n\\n Mr. Dudley\",\n \" Because it's my phone.\\n (back to the phone)\\n Yes... Mrs. Dudley, just leave the \\n boxes inside, thank you. See you \\n soon. Thank you.\\n\\n He hangs up.\\n\\n Marrow is trying to read the first file as he goes to his desk. \\n Mary shows him a huge CORKBOARD covered with photos, articles, and \\n various items.\\n\\n MARY\\n Here's how they're organized. \\n \",\n \"was.\\n\\n NELL\\n (for the absurdity \\n of the idea)\\n Welcome Home.\\n\\n MARROW\\n You'll never see it again. Mr. \\n Dudley's taking care of it.\\n (beat)\\n I'm sorry, Nell. Can I show you \\n something you'd like to see?\\n\\n NELL\\n (still too shaky \\n for enthusiasm)\\n Sure.\\n\\n\",\n \"MARROW\\n We're going down the stairs, Nell, \\n I'm taking you down the stairs.\\n\\n He leads her go down the stairs.\\n\\n INT. THEO'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Marrow and Theo stand in the doorway to the shared bathroom watching\\n Luke finish taping a trash bag over Nell's broken window. Nell lies \\n in her bed, asleep or unconscious, it's impossible to say. Luke \\n finishes, comes over. Marrow is hushed\",\n \"like \\n to --\\n\\n MRS. DUDLEY\\n -- Haven't seen him.\\n\\n MARROW\\n Thank you.\\n\\n Frustrated, he continues on.\\n\\n INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE LOCKED ROOM - DAY\\n\\n Nell and Theo walk down the long hallway behind, opening doors,\\n checking rooms.\\n\\n NELL\\n David?\\n\\n THEO\\n Maybe he never came in. If he'd \\n\",\n \"have to hear me. Let me \\n explain what's happening to you.\\n (beat)\\n You're participating in a study on \\n hysteria.\\n\\n Everyone but Marrow REACTS.\\n\\n MARROW (cont'd)\\n I've given you a powerful \\n suggestion that you're in a \\n haunted house. I picked Hill \\n House because it fits the \\n expectations. It was my... it was \\n my\",\n \" to be in a location with a \\n definite sense of history, and I \\n wanted to make sure that it wasn't \\n so pleasant you'd all sleep too \\n easily. You'll be taking a \\n variety of tests, none of them \\n harmful, and you've got the house, \\n the grounds, and each other to \\n keep you company.\\n\\n THEO\\n When do we take the tests?\\n\\n MARROW\\n \"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["What kind of study does Eleanor apply for?","What is Dr. Marrow's true purpose in arranging the study?","What was Crain's hope when he built his house?","How was Marrow's assistant's face slashed?","Who does Nell think is haunting the house?","What does Nell learn about the children who died in the house?","What force seals up the house?","How is Luke killed?","Where do the spirits take Crain?","What is the Dr. Marrow's purpose behind HIll House?","Why does Nell think the assistant's face being slashed wasn't an accident?","Who is trapping the ghost children in Hill House?","Why does Nell refuse to leave Hill House?","What happens to Crain at the end of the story?","What happens to Nell after she is pulled into the door with Crain?","Who is able to leave Hill House alive at the end of the story?","Who comes to pick up the survivors of Hill House at the end of the story?","What happens to Luke?","Who is Nell descended from?","What was Dr. Marrow's real purpose for the study?","What event caused Crain to become a recluse?","How did the caretakers make sure that nobody escaped Hill House? ","What phrase was written in blood on Hugh Crain's portrait?","Who terrorized and killed the ghostly children?","Why did Nell tell Theo that she couldn't leave the house with them?","After Nell's death, who else went to heaven with her?","Where did the spirits drag Hugh Cain?","What happened to Luke when he defaced the portrait of Hugh Cain?","What answer did Dr.Marrow and Theo give to Mr. Dudley when he asked about the study?"],"string":"[\n \"What kind of study does Eleanor apply for?\",\n \"What is Dr. Marrow's true purpose in arranging the study?\",\n \"What was Crain's hope when he built his house?\",\n \"How was Marrow's assistant's face slashed?\",\n \"Who does Nell think is haunting the house?\",\n \"What does Nell learn about the children who died in the house?\",\n \"What force seals up the house?\",\n \"How is Luke killed?\",\n \"Where do the spirits take Crain?\",\n \"What is the Dr. Marrow's purpose behind HIll House?\",\n \"Why does Nell think the assistant's face being slashed wasn't an accident?\",\n \"Who is trapping the ghost children in Hill House?\",\n \"Why does Nell refuse to leave Hill House?\",\n \"What happens to Crain at the end of the story?\",\n \"What happens to Nell after she is pulled into the door with Crain?\",\n \"Who is able to leave Hill House alive at the end of the story?\",\n \"Who comes to pick up the survivors of Hill House at the end of the story?\",\n \"What happens to Luke?\",\n \"Who is Nell descended from?\",\n \"What was Dr. Marrow's real purpose for the study?\",\n \"What event caused Crain to become a recluse?\",\n \"How did the caretakers make sure that nobody escaped Hill House? \",\n \"What phrase was written in blood on Hugh Crain's portrait?\",\n \"Who terrorized and killed the ghostly children?\",\n \"Why did Nell tell Theo that she couldn't leave the house with them?\",\n \"After Nell's death, who else went to heaven with her?\",\n \"Where did the spirits drag Hugh Cain?\",\n \"What happened to Luke when he defaced the portrait of Hugh Cain?\",\n \"What answer did Dr.Marrow and Theo give to Mr. Dudley when he asked about the study?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["The study is on insomnia.","Sleep study"],["He is studying the psychological response to fear.","steady the psych response to fear"],["He wanted to fill it with children with his wife.","To have a house full of his children."],["It was slashed through a freak accident involving a clavichord wire. ","A clavichord wire that snapped."],["She thinks it is the ghosts of children. ","Ghostly children"],["She learns that they were kidnapped by Crain and slaughtered in the house. ","They were her ancestors."],["Hugh Crain's ghost seals the house. ","Hugh Crain's ghost."],["Crain's spirit drags him to the fireplace where he is decpitated. ","Decapitated by the ghost of Crain"],["They drag him to hell. ","Hell"],["He wants to study subject's reactions to fear.","Study the psychological response of fear"],["She notices the wire was unwound.","She see that the wire had been unwound"],["Hugh Crain's ghost.","crain"],["She refuses to let the ghost children suffer for eternity.","She wants to help the ghost children go to the afterlife."],["He is dragged down to Hell by the other spirits.","dragged to hell"],["She goes to Heaven with the ghost children.","She is killed and her ghost goes up to Heaven."],["Theo and Dr. Marrow.","Dr. Marrow and Theo"],["The Dudleys.","Dudleys"],["His head is cut off after being dragged to the fireplace by Crain,","Crain's ghost decapitates him."],["Crain's second wife, Carolyn.","Cain's wife Carolyn"],["To study the psychological response to fear","study the response to fear"],["His wife Renee committed suicide.","His wife Renee killed herself"],["They chained the gate.","Chain the gate"],["Welcome Home Eleanor","Welcome Home Eleanor."],["Crain","Hugh Crain"],["Nell wanted to help the children move on in the afterlife","She can't leave the ghosts of the children to suffer"],["The ghosts of the children","The ghost children."],["To hell","Hell"],["Crain's spirit dragged him to the fireplace and decapitated him","He gets decapitated "],["They did not give an answer","They do not answer"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"The study is on insomnia.\",\n \"Sleep study\"\n ],\n [\n \"He is studying the psychological response to fear.\",\n \"steady the psych response to fear\"\n ],\n [\n \"He wanted to fill it with children with his wife.\",\n \"To have a house full of his children.\"\n ],\n [\n \"It was slashed through a freak accident involving a clavichord wire. \",\n \"A clavichord wire that snapped.\"\n ],\n [\n \"She thinks it is the ghosts of children. \",\n \"Ghostly children\"\n ],\n [\n \"She learns that they were kidnapped by Crain and slaughtered in the house. \",\n \"They were her ancestors.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Hugh Crain's ghost seals the house. \",\n \"Hugh Crain's ghost.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Crain's spirit drags him to the fireplace where he is decpitated. \",\n \"Decapitated by the ghost of Crain\"\n ],\n [\n \"They drag him to hell. \",\n \"Hell\"\n ],\n [\n \"He wants to study subject's reactions to fear.\",\n \"Study the psychological response of fear\"\n ],\n [\n \"She notices the wire was unwound.\",\n \"She see that the wire had been unwound\"\n ],\n [\n \"Hugh Crain's ghost.\",\n \"crain\"\n ],\n [\n \"She refuses to let the ghost children suffer for eternity.\",\n \"She wants to help the ghost children go to the afterlife.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He is dragged down to Hell by the other spirits.\",\n \"dragged to hell\"\n ],\n [\n \"She goes to Heaven with the ghost children.\",\n \"She is killed and her ghost goes up to Heaven.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Theo and Dr. Marrow.\",\n \"Dr. Marrow and Theo\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Dudleys.\",\n \"Dudleys\"\n ],\n [\n \"His head is cut off after being dragged to the fireplace by Crain,\",\n \"Crain's ghost decapitates him.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Crain's second wife, Carolyn.\",\n \"Cain's wife Carolyn\"\n ],\n [\n \"To study the psychological response to fear\",\n \"study the response to fear\"\n ],\n [\n \"His wife Renee committed suicide.\",\n \"His wife Renee killed herself\"\n ],\n [\n \"They chained the gate.\",\n \"Chain the gate\"\n ],\n [\n \"Welcome Home Eleanor\",\n \"Welcome Home Eleanor.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Crain\",\n \"Hugh Crain\"\n ],\n [\n \"Nell wanted to help the children move on in the afterlife\",\n \"She can't leave the ghosts of the children to suffer\"\n ],\n [\n \"The ghosts of the children\",\n \"The ghost children.\"\n ],\n [\n \"To hell\",\n \"Hell\"\n ],\n [\n \"Crain's spirit dragged him to the fireplace and decapitated him\",\n \"He gets decapitated \"\n ],\n [\n \"They did not give an answer\",\n \"They do not answer\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"91075ab5383e8113d86b17536c6918bfbbd6af20"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":21,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["omkvist.\n\n FRODE\n Do you want to stop?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I have police reports, photos,\n Henrik's notes, my own notes, and\n Lisbeth's research. What I don't\n have are Vanger Industries records.\n That's what I want.\n\n FRODE\n Why?\n\nBlomkvist doesn't say. Only -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Will you authorize it?\n","an investment in\n the magazine.\n BLOMKVIST\n I gather. Why would you want to do\n that?\n\n MARTIN\n Not for the return, that's for sure.\n\n VANGER\n (to Erika)\n I feel bad that I've take Mikael\n away from you at the worst possible\n time. This is the right thing to do.\n The moral thing. That's one reason.\n\n ERIKA\n And.\n ",".\n\n VANGER\n - studying their reports and\n interviews, all the information there\n was, and it's a lot. I've spent half\n my life examining the events of a\n single day.\n And for all that, he's no closer to the truth.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I understand your frustration.\n But what you're asking me to do is\n a waste of money.\n VANGER\n We haven't discussed your fee.\n BLOM","/S\n Mr. Blomkvist?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Yes.\n\n FRODE O/S\n Forgive me for intruding on your\n Christmas. My name is Dirch Frode.\n I'm an attorney. I represent Henrik\n Vanger. Perhaps you've heard of\n (him) -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Of course.\n FRODE O/S\n He'd like to speak to you about a\n private matter.","to do is\n a waste of money.\n VANGER\n We haven't discussed your fee.\n BLOMKVIST\n We don't need to. I can't find\n something you haven't been able to\n in forty years.\n\n VANGER\n You don't know that. You have a\n very keen investigative mind.\n\n Blomkvist wonders why he ever agreed to come here as\n Vanger refills his wine glass.\n VANGER\n Here","MKVIST\n You want me to set aside my life\n and career for something that's a\n complete waste of time.\n\n VANGER\n Think of it as a well deserved\n vacation. A way of avoiding all the\n people you want to avoid right now.\n (nothing from Blomkvist)\n As for compensation, I'll pay you\n twice your salary for as many months\n as it takes. I'll quadruple it if\n you solve the mystery.\n 26.","\n FRODE\n A Scotch.\nBlomkvist pours him one, and another for himself.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I don't want to be indelicate. But\n Henrik promised me something when I\n agreed to do this.\n FRODE\n Wennerstrom.\n BLOMKVIST\n (nods)\n I need to know what he has on him.\n Now. In case.\n\n FRODE\n In case he","ANGER\n I'm not obsessed with the declining\n health of the company, but I am with\n the settling of accounts - and the\n clock is ticking. I need your help.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Doing.\n\n VANGER\n Officially, assisting me with my\n memoirs. But what you'd really be\n doing is solving a mystery. And\n you'd do that by doing what you do so\n well - this recent legal mishap of\n yours","omkvist wonders why he ever agreed to come here as\n Vanger refills his wine glass.\n VANGER\n Here's what I propose: You come\n stay on the island. I have a nice\n little cottage by the water you can\n use. You study the material I give\n you. You find something I've missed\n - or you don't.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n You want me to set aside my life\n and career for something that's a\n complete waste of time.\n","my partner, Henrik. She should\n stay.\n A tiny, tiny, tiny smile finds its way to her face at the\n mention of the word `partner.'\n\n VANGER\n What have you found?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm not sure.\n\n VANGER\n Don't treat me like a child. Tell\n me.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I can't. I don't know. ","If I had, I never\n would have let him bring you up here.\n But he wasn't trying to deceive you.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Come on, he knows you can't try\n somebody for this 35 years later. I\n like Henrik, but he knows that.\n Frode disagrees -\n\n FRODE\n A man's reputation used to mean\n something - he still believes that.\n I'm sure he thought you could destroy\n Wennerstrom with this","\n\n\n ISABELLA\n No, you can't check. You can\n instruct him to pack his things and\n leave.\n MARTIN\n Mother -\n ISABELLA\n Don't use that tone with me.\n (to Blomkvist)\n This family's had enough tragedy\n without you dredging it all up again.\n\n FRODE\n Actually, Isabella, Mr. Blomkvist\n works for Henrik.\n ISABELLA\n","\n VANGER\n She was bright and curious, a\n winning combination in any person.\n BLOMKVIST\n And beautiful.\n Vanger nods as he regards the photo ...\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Something happened to her?\n\n Vanger nods again; is silent for several moments ...\n VANGER\n Someone in the family murdered\n Harriet and for the last forty years\n has been trying to drive me insane.\n33 OMIT:","family.\n 45.\n 45.\n \n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's not about the family. It's\n about Henrik and the company.\n\n CECILIA\n Like I said.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's not my intention to present a\n malicious portrait of anyone.\n\n CECILIA\n Unlike the one that landed you in\n court.\n BLOMKVIST\n Unlike","up in the yard by the water, interviewing\n Henrik and Martin. Under his suit jacket Henrik wears a\n cheerful yellow shirt. Birger unhappily looks on.\n\n MARTIN\n Millennium is an excellent magazine.\n We also think it's undervalued right\n now, which is good business for us.\n\n REPORTER 3\n Is any magazine really undervalued\n today. How many will be around\n tomorrow?\n\n VANGER\n"," interested.\n\n He is.\n108 INT. VANGER MANOR - EVENING 108\n\n Vanger and Martin all but ignore Blomkvist as they chat\n with Erika over dinner. They seem charmed by her.\n\n VANGER\n I apologize if you're having\n financial problems at the magazine\n in Mikael's absence.\n ERIKA\n We'll work through them.\n VANGER\n Are you"," The island is owned by my family.\n Your closest neighbor is my brother\n Harald, another Nazi if you can\n believe. Two in the family. He's\n detestable to put it nicely, but\n you'll probably never see him. He's\n a recluse.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n He was there that day?\n\n VANGER\n Indeed he was.\n\n Vanger's look to Blomkvist adds, `so consider him a\n suspect.' He indicates another"," 109.\n 109.\n \n\n FRODE\n He's not well enough to ask.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'd be happy to sign a nondisclosure\n statement, if that helps you.\n\n FRODE\n Excuse us a moment.\n\n Frode and Martin step away to confer in private.\n\n MARTIN\n I think Henrik would say yes.\n FRODE","kvist gathers, to be considered a\nsuspect. Vanger points off -\n VANGER\n He lives over there.\n\nShivering in the cold, Blomkvist turns.\n BLOMKVIST\n And you live here.\n\n VANGER\n Sorry?\n BLOMKVIST\n Your house.\n\nFor a moment, Vanger isn't sure what Blomkvist means.\nThen he is, and is pleased by it.\n 33.\n","wants,\n and we know what he wants.\n ISABELLA\n Henrik - is in there fighting for\n his life. This -\n (points to Blomkvist like\n he's an object)\n - is the last thing he needs.\n\nA nurse chooses this - the absolute worst time - to\napproach Isabella.\n 87.\n 87.\n \n\n NURSE O/S\n Excuse me, Mrs. Vanger, you"],["'t be her, but it is a teenage girl who\n resembles the old pictures of her. Seeing him, she\n waves. It's his daughter.\n\n PERNILLA\n Hi.\n BLOMKVIST\n Hi. What are you doing here?\n\n PERNILLA\n On my way to Skelleftea. I can only\n stay a couple hours.\n He arrives and gives her a hug.\n 71.\n ",".\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Light of - what?\n (she doesn't repeat it)\n What is that?\n\n PERNILLA\n You think it's all senseless but it\n isn't. It's more natural to believe\n in something than not to.\n\nShe begins eating. Blomkvist stares at her, feeling a\nlittle sick. A cell phone rings. No one can tell - as\nyou never can - whose it is, and so all pull them out.\nIt's","you\n want to do is fine. Everybody needs\n something.\n\n PERNILLA\n Just so long as it's not God.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I didn't say that.\n\n As they eat in silence, Blomkvist can't help but think\n about Harriet and what Vanger said about not giving her\n his attention when she needed it.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm not around enough to know\n everything that's going on with you,"," INT. COTTAGE - DAY 129B\n\n He's made them some coffee, and, of course, sandwiches.\n Patiently waits for her to finish her silent prayer, and\n smiles bravely.\n PERNILLA\n They're not dangerous.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's fine, Nilla. Whatever you\n want to do is fine. Everybody needs\n something.\n\n PERNILLA\n Just so long as it'","ILLA\n Don't go too hard on the Catholics.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What?\n PERNILLA\n The article you're writing.\n BLOMKVIST\n What are you talking (about) -\n\n PERNILLA\n The Bible quotes on your desk.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What?\n\n The train clears the platform. He watches after it.\n What was she talking about? He glances",", passing platters\n around. Blomkvist notices his daughter's head is bowed\n in silent prayer.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Nilla? What are you doing?\n PERNILLA\n Nothing.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n (pause)\n You're not serious.\n 13.\n 13.\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\n\n PERNIL","\n 72.\n 72.\n \n\n He nods but doesn't believe it any more than she believes\n he's okay with Bible Camp. She climbs aboard. Waves.\n\n PERNILLA\n Bye.\n BLOMKVIST\n Bye.\n The train begins to move.\n\n PERNILLA\n Don't go too hard on the Catholics.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What?"," PERNILLA\n About all that money.\n 12.\n 12.\n \n\n20 INT. SODER HOSPITAL - STOCKHOLM - NIGHT 20\n\n Outside the ICU, Salander sits on the floor like a dog\n who won't leave the spot its master told it to wait. For\n the first time since we've met her, she looks vulnerable.\n The doors swing open. A doctor steps out. Salander gets\n up","\n 13.\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\n\n PERNILLA\n I don't want to talk about it since\n I know you won't approve.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Of -\n (she doesn't say)\n Nilla.\n PERNILLA\n Light of Life.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Light of - what?\n (she doesn't repeat it)\n What is"," It is. She lives with me.\n MORELL\n Are her parents alive?\n VANGER\n Her mother is.\n\n Vanger points Isabella out. Slender, overdressed and\n smoking a Sobranie, she immediately strikes Morell as a\n woman as venomous as she is beautiful.\n VANGER\n This way.\n Morell follows Vanger down a hall -\n\n INTERCUT: Blomkvist reads, \"Approx. 12:05,"," Indeed he was.\n\n Vanger's look to Blomkvist adds, `so consider him a\n suspect.' He indicates another house on the grounds -\n VANGER\n That's his daughter Cecilia's house.\n They don't speak.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Does anyone speak to anyone on this\n island?\n\n VANGER\n Actually, Isabella - Harriet's mother\n - who lives there -\n (points)\n - she speaks to Harald","I can only\n stay a couple hours.\n He arrives and gives her a hug.\n 71.\n 71.\n \n\n BLOMKVIST\n What's in Skelleftea?\n\n PERNILLA\n Light of Life Bible Camp.\n Blomkvist tries to hide his dismay.\n129B INT. COTTAGE - DAY 129B\n\n He's made them some coffee, and, of course","doing.\n\n129C EXT. TRAIN STATION - HEDESTAD - DAY 129C\n The afternoon train is boarding. It's not crowded.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It should have been me visiting you.\n I'm sorry.\n\n PERNILLA\n It's okay. Everything's good.\n 72.\n 72.\n \n\n He nods but doesn't believe it any more",".\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm not around enough to know\n everything that's going on with you,\n and I apologize for that. But I'd\n never want you to not tell me\n something, even if you think I might\n not want to hear it.\n\n PERNILLA\n (smiles)\n That's what I'm doing.\n\n129C EXT. TRAIN STATION - HEDESTAD - DAY 129C\n"," She wants to look at everything. I\n don't like her and I don't trust her.\n There's something wrong with her.\n FRODE\n Hang on a second -\n (to Martin)\n I'm going to let you decide. It's\n Ms. Lindgren again.\n\n MARTIN\n (takes the phone)\n Yes, Ingrid, what's the problem?\n LINDGREN V/O\n This",". Leviticus 4:32 -\n\n HARRIET/PERNILLA\n If a man's offering is a lamb, it\n shall be a female without blemish. He\n shall lay his hand upon it's head\n ...slaughter it... empty it's blood\n on the base of the altar ... and he\n shall be forgiven.\n\n162 EXT. UDDEVALLA- DAY 162\n\n Another police station.\n\n162A ","\n Blomkvist knocks on the door. Anita pulls it open.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's me. Sorry to bother you.\n\n She doesn't invite him in, but doesn't shut the door in\n his face either.\n ANITA\n What do you want?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n No one's called you?\n\n ANITA\n About.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n ","\n\n\n ISABELLA\n No, you can't check. You can\n instruct him to pack his things and\n leave.\n MARTIN\n Mother -\n ISABELLA\n Don't use that tone with me.\n (to Blomkvist)\n This family's had enough tragedy\n without you dredging it all up again.\n\n FRODE\n Actually, Isabella, Mr. Blomkvist\n works for Henrik.\n ISABELLA\n"," It's doubtful there's a stranger Christmas gathering\n going on anywhere in the world. Standing around with\n eggnog are:\n 11.\n 11.\n \n\nBlomkvist; his teenage daughter Pernilla; his sister\nAnnika and her Italian husband; Erika and her weirdly\nunderstanding artist husband Greger, whose arm is around\nher waist; a few other friends (and perhaps lovers).\n GREGER\n You needed a better attorney. You\n needed your sister.","BLOMKVIST\n He was my age then, and so couldn't\n know what was really going on with a\n teenager any more than I can with my\n own daughter. You were her age.\n 46.\n 46.\n \n\n CECILIA\n Actually, my sister Anita was closer\n to her in age.\n\nINSERT of the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\nwas about 17 years old.\n\n CECILIA\n She"],["omkvist.\n\n FRODE\n Do you want to stop?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I have police reports, photos,\n Henrik's notes, my own notes, and\n Lisbeth's research. What I don't\n have are Vanger Industries records.\n That's what I want.\n\n FRODE\n Why?\n\nBlomkvist doesn't say. Only -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Will you authorize it?\n","\n FRODE\n A Scotch.\nBlomkvist pours him one, and another for himself.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I don't want to be indelicate. But\n Henrik promised me something when I\n agreed to do this.\n FRODE\n Wennerstrom.\n BLOMKVIST\n (nods)\n I need to know what he has on him.\n Now. In case.\n\n FRODE\n In case he","an investment in\n the magazine.\n BLOMKVIST\n I gather. Why would you want to do\n that?\n\n MARTIN\n Not for the return, that's for sure.\n\n VANGER\n (to Erika)\n I feel bad that I've take Mikael\n away from you at the worst possible\n time. This is the right thing to do.\n The moral thing. That's one reason.\n\n ERIKA\n And.\n ","/S\n Mr. Blomkvist?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Yes.\n\n FRODE O/S\n Forgive me for intruding on your\n Christmas. My name is Dirch Frode.\n I'm an attorney. I represent Henrik\n Vanger. Perhaps you've heard of\n (him) -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Of course.\n FRODE O/S\n He'd like to speak to you about a\n private matter.","MKVIST\n You want me to set aside my life\n and career for something that's a\n complete waste of time.\n\n VANGER\n Think of it as a well deserved\n vacation. A way of avoiding all the\n people you want to avoid right now.\n (nothing from Blomkvist)\n As for compensation, I'll pay you\n twice your salary for as many months\n as it takes. I'll quadruple it if\n you solve the mystery.\n 26.",".\n\n VANGER\n - studying their reports and\n interviews, all the information there\n was, and it's a lot. I've spent half\n my life examining the events of a\n single day.\n And for all that, he's no closer to the truth.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I understand your frustration.\n But what you're asking me to do is\n a waste of money.\n VANGER\n We haven't discussed your fee.\n BLOM","to do is\n a waste of money.\n VANGER\n We haven't discussed your fee.\n BLOMKVIST\n We don't need to. I can't find\n something you haven't been able to\n in forty years.\n\n VANGER\n You don't know that. You have a\n very keen investigative mind.\n\n Blomkvist wonders why he ever agreed to come here as\n Vanger refills his wine glass.\n VANGER\n Here","\n\n\n ISABELLA\n No, you can't check. You can\n instruct him to pack his things and\n leave.\n MARTIN\n Mother -\n ISABELLA\n Don't use that tone with me.\n (to Blomkvist)\n This family's had enough tragedy\n without you dredging it all up again.\n\n FRODE\n Actually, Isabella, Mr. Blomkvist\n works for Henrik.\n ISABELLA\n","If I had, I never\n would have let him bring you up here.\n But he wasn't trying to deceive you.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Come on, he knows you can't try\n somebody for this 35 years later. I\n like Henrik, but he knows that.\n Frode disagrees -\n\n FRODE\n A man's reputation used to mean\n something - he still believes that.\n I'm sure he thought you could destroy\n Wennerstrom with this","ANGER\n I'm not obsessed with the declining\n health of the company, but I am with\n the settling of accounts - and the\n clock is ticking. I need your help.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Doing.\n\n VANGER\n Officially, assisting me with my\n memoirs. But what you'd really be\n doing is solving a mystery. And\n you'd do that by doing what you do so\n well - this recent legal mishap of\n yours","family.\n 45.\n 45.\n \n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's not about the family. It's\n about Henrik and the company.\n\n CECILIA\n Like I said.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's not my intention to present a\n malicious portrait of anyone.\n\n CECILIA\n Unlike the one that landed you in\n court.\n BLOMKVIST\n Unlike"," 109.\n 109.\n \n\n FRODE\n He's not well enough to ask.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'd be happy to sign a nondisclosure\n statement, if that helps you.\n\n FRODE\n Excuse us a moment.\n\n Frode and Martin step away to confer in private.\n\n MARTIN\n I think Henrik would say yes.\n FRODE","wants,\n and we know what he wants.\n ISABELLA\n Henrik - is in there fighting for\n his life. This -\n (points to Blomkvist like\n he's an object)\n - is the last thing he needs.\n\nA nurse chooses this - the absolute worst time - to\napproach Isabella.\n 87.\n 87.\n \n\n NURSE O/S\n Excuse me, Mrs. Vanger, you","re looking for investment\n counseling, Mikael?\n BLOMKVIST\n I would if had any money to invest.\n\n ANITA\n Excuse me?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm writing a biography of your\n uncle Henrik. That's why I'm here.\n She stares at him. He waits for the response Cecilia\n predicted, but it doesn't come.\n95 EXT. CAFE - LONDON - DAY "," interested.\n\n He is.\n108 INT. VANGER MANOR - EVENING 108\n\n Vanger and Martin all but ignore Blomkvist as they chat\n with Erika over dinner. They seem charmed by her.\n\n VANGER\n I apologize if you're having\n financial problems at the magazine\n in Mikael's absence.\n ERIKA\n We'll work through them.\n VANGER\n Are you","my partner, Henrik. She should\n stay.\n A tiny, tiny, tiny smile finds its way to her face at the\n mention of the word `partner.'\n\n VANGER\n What have you found?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm not sure.\n\n VANGER\n Don't treat me like a child. Tell\n me.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I can't. I don't know. ","\n VANGER\n She was bright and curious, a\n winning combination in any person.\n BLOMKVIST\n And beautiful.\n Vanger nods as he regards the photo ...\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Something happened to her?\n\n Vanger nods again; is silent for several moments ...\n VANGER\n Someone in the family murdered\n Harriet and for the last forty years\n has been trying to drive me insane.\n33 OMIT:","\n\n BLOMKVIST\n All the way.\n\nFrode exchanges a look with Martin.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Henrik said I have access to\n everything I need. This is what I\n need.\n\n FRODE\n That's not what he meant.\n BLOMKVIST\n Let's ask him.\n 109.\n 109.\n \n\n FRODE\n He's",")\n I need to know what he has on him.\n Now. In case.\n\n FRODE\n In case he dies? That is indelicate.\n BLOMKVIST\n And I apologize.\n\n FRODE\n I don't know what he has on him, if\n you're asking me. And he can't tell\n you in the condition he's in. So ...\n is that it then?\nSilence. Blomkvist drinks. Eventually -\n\n ","ERIKA\n This time I do want to know.\n BLOMKVIST\n I have access to his computer, and\n his accountants' and lawyers'.\n\n She isn't happy to hear that explanation.\n\n ERIKA\n And how do you have that?\n BLOMKVIST\n I could have gotten it from a source\n inside the company.\n ERIKA\n But you didn't.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n But that's"],["SALANDER\n I've been on my own since I was\n twelve.\n BJURMAN\n No. You've been a persistent burden\n to the State since you were twelve.\n\n She won't look at him any more - not that there's\n anything even remotely interesting to see if she did.\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\n Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\n Because this is important.\n She does ... in a way that says, I","watching him. Is she actually there, or\n part of a dream? He looks at her a long moment, then\n tries out his voice -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n How is it someone who's 23 is a ward\n of the state?\n\n SALANDER\n I'm mentally incompetent and can't\n manage daily life.\n\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\n\n BLOMKV","MAN\n Do you think that ring in your eyelid\n makes you attractive?\n\nSalander, who's had to suffer insufferable officials all\nher life, doesn't dignify the question with an answer.\n BJURMAN\n Here's the problem. There a\n discrepancy between the obligation of\n Mr. Palmgren's guardianship and the\n management of your finances.\n\n SALANDER\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\n It was clear to him I","ances.\n\n SALANDER\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\n It was clear to him I could manage my\n own finances.\n BJURMAN\n But that's not clear to me.\n SALANDER\n I'm not a child.\n\n BJURMAN\n No. You're not.\n (looks at her too long)\n But you were. And between then and\n now -\n (indicating the files)\n","- DAY 66A\n\n\n67 INT. PALMGREN'S APARTMENT - DAY 67\n\n A nurse takes a tray away, leaving Salander alone with\n Palmgren, separated by the chess table they won't playing\n a game on. She wipes his mouth with her sleeve.\n\n SALANDER\n I got a call from social welfare.\n I've been assigned a new guardian.\n\n It's unlikely he understands what she has said."," Silence. Armansky tries not to look sick. Then -\n 78.\n 78.\n \n\n ARMANSKY\n The reason you can find no record of\n her is because her records have been\n sealed. She's a ward of the State.\n BLOMKVIST\n What does that have to do with\n anything.\n ARMANSKY\n She's had a rough life. Can we not\n ",". Leave\n the keys with the guard.\n\n The woman leaves. Her footsteps echo and fade. Salander\n reads a yellowed clipping from a Landskrona newspaper:\n 116.\n 116.\n \n\n It's about Vanger Industries hiring a local contractor,\n Carlen Construction, to build a plant. Gottfried Vanger -\n here to sign the contract.\n\n But all that really interests Salander is the date. The\n article was published one day"," BJURMAN\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\n (nothing from Salander)\n Terrible.\n\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\n through her file -\n BJURMAN\n What exactly do you do at this\n security company?\n\n SALANDER\n Make coffee and sort mail.\n\n BJURMAN\n But not full-time. Not even part",".\n And that troubles him still, that he never solved it.\n\n SALANDER\n How exactly was she killed?\n\n DET. ISAKSSON\n Miss - I'm sorry -\n\n SALANDER\n Salander.\n DET. ISAKSSON\n Miss Salander, if you don't mind my\n asking, when's the last time you ate?\n 85.\n 85.\n \n\n SALAND","a\n fool did he make of himself\n financially?\n\n SALANDER\n The judgement will just about empty\n his savings.\nThis seems to please Frode more than anything else that\nhas been said, and Salander sees it.\n SALANDER\n May I go?\n\n FRODE\n Your report is light in another\n area. His personal life. Anything\n you chose not to include?\n SALANDER\n Nothing that warranted inclusion.\n\n FRODE\n ","\n\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Since when have they said that.\n SALANDER\n Since I was twelve.\n BLOMKVIST\n Something happened when you were\n twelve?\n\n She doesn't say. Just studies him ...\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's all right, you don't have to\n tell me anything","was stupid. I got something from\n an anonymous source, who I'm sure now\n worked for him. It was fake. Which\n he easily proved in court.\n Not a good day, that. Then -\n SALANDER\n You were emphatic that the way I\n looked into your life was illegal and\n immoral. Would you feel the same\n about Wennerstrom?\n\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\n SALANDER\n I","Salander. Bjurman seems a\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\n\n BJURMAN\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\n 66.\n 66.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I need more money. I need to pay my\n rent.\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\n\n BJURMAN\n Come on in."," Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\n Because this is important.\n She does ... in a way that says, I'd like to kill you.\n\n BJURMAN\n This behavior you're displaying\n right now is elaborately documented\n here -\n (in the file)\n - so it would come as a shock to no\n one if I chose an alternative to the\n lenient arrangement I just outlined.\n Is that what you're saying with your\n ","SALANDER\n I will kill you.\nAnd he knows she means it.\n\n SALANDER\n Do you doubt anything I've said?\n (he shakes his head no)\n Do you doubt what's in the reports\n about me? What do they say when\n you sum them up? They say I'm\n insane.\n (he shakes his head no)\n No, it okay. You can nod because\n it's true. I am insane.\n\nShe gets up off him, rummages",".\n SALANDER\n She was raped and stabbed, but the\n cause of death was suffocation with a\n sanitary napkin. R.L. Rakel Lunde,\n 1957 -\nSalander brings up more crime photos -\n\n SALANDER\n Cleaning woman and part-time palm\n reader, tied up with a clothesline,\n gagged, raped, head crushed with a\n rock. Leviticus 20:27.\n\n BLOMKV","\n you chose not to include?\n SALANDER\n Nothing that warranted inclusion.\n\n FRODE\n I'm not sure if that means yes or no.\n\n ARMANSKY\n I think what Ms. Salander means, and\n I agree, is that everyone has a right\n to a certain amount of privacy, even\n when they're being investigated.\n\n FRODE\n Not in this case. I have to know\n if there's anything about him I might\n find unsav","ander\n brought from Martin's chamber of horrors late last night:\n\n A scrapbook of murder. A death book. Photos of women\n cowering in his cage, tied to the bed, dead on the table -\n along with souvenirs of painted fingernails and locks of\n hair - all carefully taped into the `album.' The older\n photographs are Polaroids; the newer ones digital prints.\n With little to no discernible emotion, Salander watches\n Frode wince as he turns the pages.\n\n Frode can","the first time since we've met her, she looks vulnerable.\n The doors swing open. A doctor steps out. Salander gets\n up to hear his report -\n\n DOCTOR\n You're Mr. Palmgren's daughter?\n SALANDER\n His ward. He doesn't have a\n daughter.\n\n The doctor isn't sure then if he should talk to her.\n SALANDER\n Please.\n21 INT. ICU - SODER HOSPITAL","-\n SALANDER\n (again on his last word)\n Lea Persson, 1962 -\n\n A photo of a pretty girl in riding jodhpurs, petting a\n horse, and several more of her dead naked body on a wet\n cement floor surrounded by tropical fish.\n\n SALANDER\n Found by her sister in their pet\n shop - raped, beaten. The killer\n uncaged the animals, smashed the\n aquariums. There was a parake"],["omkvist who only witnessed part\nof the spectacle before losing consciousness -\n\nShe saws through the leather strap around his neck.\nUnlocks the chain. As he sinks to his knees on the\nfloor, blood rushes to his head, bringing him back to\nlife just enough to see what she can't behind her -\n\nMartin, blood streaming from the gash in his head,\ngetting to his feet. But he's not coming at them; he's\ntrying to get out -\n\nBlomkvist tries to say her name to get her","\n\n LIV\n I found him at death's door halfway\n up the hill.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm afraid I'm a bit out of shape.\n\n MARTIN\n No, it's a climb for anyone. I\n should've warned you. Come on in.\n\n Blomkvist puts a bottle of aquavit in Martin's hand.\n82 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 82\n\n The place is far","have a flashlight? I'll\n give you one.\n BLOMKVIST\n I just wasn't being careful.\n\n Martin smiles, but Blomkvist isn't sure what he said\n warrants one. Martin begins rummaging through a drawer\n for a flashlight. The knife block - with one missing -\n is right there.\n\n MARTIN\n How's the investigation?\n BLOMKVIST\n Nothing new to report.\n\n Blom"," moment later, Blomkvist hears a sound of tires on gravel.\n Martin is back, and Blomkvist is in his house.\n\n We rush back down the hall with Blomkvist. Hopefully\n Martin will enter through the front door because we're\n going to try to get out the back one -\n\n Blomkvist trips over something in the dark and we go down\n with him. Then up again - through the kitchen - past the\n basement door - grabs a knife from a drawer - shoves it\n in a","him. Then up again - through the kitchen - past the\n basement door - grabs a knife from a drawer - shoves it\n in a back pocket - hurries out the rear door -\n\n219 EXT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS 219\n Blomkvist tries to steady his breathing as he slinks\n around the side of the house. As he passes a window, it\n lights up - and we again hit the ground with him.\n He hurries across the yard, trips over something in","go hunting.\n\nMartin pulls open a bar drawer and takes from it a\nhandgun.\n\n MARTIN\n A gun. Rather than a knife.\n\nHe gives a little gesture with it to the handle of the\nknife protruding from a back pocket of Blomkvist's jeans.\nThere are fresh drops of blood on the floor next to his\nshoes.\n\n MARTIN\n You just couldn't stay away, could\n you.\n\nBlomkvist doesn't know what to say. Martin's",".\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I suppose I am.\n\n MARTIN\n To have dinner. With your\n girlfriend.\n BLOMKVIST\n My assistant. Yes.\n MARTIN\n We'll have better luck with a gun.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Sorry?\n MARTIN\n When we go hunting.\n\nMartin pulls open a bar drawer and takes from it a\nhandgun.\n\n MARTIN\n A gun","KVIST\n What's happened?\n MARTIN\n We were talking. He started\n rubbing at his arm. Then collapsed.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Is he (conscious) -\n MARTIN\n I can't talk, Mikael, I have to (go) -\n BLOMKVIST\n Go.\n\n Martin pulls out to follow the ambulance to the hospital.\n Blomkvist watches after them.\n\n134 ","lifts him\n onto his tiptoes.\n\n MARTIN\n What happened to her.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n You're choking me -\n MARTIN\n You found her?\n BLOMKVIST\n You killed her.\n\n Martin just stares at him confused. Then -\n\n MARTIN\n You useless fuckin detective.\n 132.\n 132.\n \n\nHe","218E\n\n The headlights come up the road leading to the point.\n218F INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 218F\n\n Blomkvist approaches a gun case in the study. Hunting\n rifles. Three of them - and an empty space for a fourth\n one.\n\n The trees outside the study window flare with light. A\n moment later, Blomkvist hears a sound of tires on gravel.\n Martin is back, and Blomkvist is in his",". Salander climbs off it and\nshoulders a duffel bag. Blomkvist seems surprised to see\nher.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Lisbeth, this is Martin Vanger.\n\n MARTIN\n How do you do.\n SALANDER\n Fine.\nShe comes past them without another word. Martin can't\nhelp noticing her wasp and handcuff tattoos. Looks after\nher as she disappears into the cottage. It's hard to\nbelieve, but he has to ask","omkvist from behind back to the kitchen,\n switching off lights as they go.\n\n MARTIN\n You know what's harder than\n shooting someone? Just missing\n them. That was a very good shot\n up at the cabin.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It didn't work. I'm here.\n\n MARTIN\n Mikael, it did work. You're here.\n They come through a pantry, at the end of which is a\n ","poncho. A painter's mask.\nPlastic goggles. Surgeons gloves. Picks up a hunting\nknife. Steps up to Blomkvist. Looks at his eyes.\nBrings his own head close to his victim's -\n MARTIN\n Goodbye, Mikael.\nHe pulls the strap, lifting Blomkvist's toes off the\nfloor, closing off his air again ... and is about to gut\nhim like a wild boar ... when he hears a sound like some\nkind of animal behind him ...\n\nHe","IN\n How's the investigation?\n BLOMKVIST\n Nothing new to report.\n\n Blomkvist notices a drop of blood from his pantleg on\n the stone floor and covers it up with his shoe. Martin,\n not seeming to notice, finds a mini-Maglite in the\n drawer.\n\n MARTIN\n Dirch says Ms. Salander is clever.\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Maybe.\n"," Trying to look like he's just out for a stroll,\n Blomkvist walks past Martin's dark house, then turns\n around, walks up the front path to the porch and makes a\n show of knocking on the door, just in case anyone on the\n island can see him, which is doubtful in this darkness.\n He tries the door. Locked. Comes down off the porch as\n if leaving, but then veers off the path and walks around\n to the side of the house.\n\n He peers through a floor-","Hi. How are you?\n\n Martin pulls a golf bag from his trunk and shoulders it.\n\n MARTIN\n I stopped at the hospital on my way\n home. Henrik asked me to ask you\n something.\n BLOMKVIST\n What.\n\n MARTIN\n Come on in, I'll make you a drink.\n\n Naturally, this is the last thing Blomkvist wants to do,\n but it would be more suspicious if he refuses. He heads\n","he goes.\n 120.\n 120.\n \n\n MARTIN O/S\n Hello? Mikael?\n\n Blomkvist stops. His heart pounds. Martin comes down\n his porch and walks toward his car.\n MARTIN\n Your evening stroll?\n BLOMKVIST\n Hi. How are you?\n\n Martin pulls a golf bag from his trunk and shoulders it.\n\n MARTIN\n ","gs `okay,' gets up,\ngoes to his workbench and takes a plastic shower curtain\nfrom it. As he's laying it on the floor around his\nvictim, Blomkvist changes his mind -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I found a picture no one had seen\n before.\n MARTIN\n Of.\n BLOMKVIST\n You. In your Uppsala prep school\n blazer.\n\nMartin doesn't see the significance, but is pleased\nBlom","for the kill, but she veers\n hard to one side, leaving him headed straight for the gas\n station Blomkvist makes his pay phone calls from - and\n the tanker truck parked there -\n\n Martin hits the brakes - hydroplanes into the truck - and\n its, or his own tank, or both, explode -\n Salander circles back. Regards the fire engulfing the\n car. The rain does nothing to dampen it. She could\n probably brave it to pull Martin out - but doesn't.\n As the flames burn","KVIST\n Harriet?\n\n SALANDER\n I think so.\n\n Blomkvist can't look at the photos long. Sets them\n down. Something's troubling him -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Martin didn't deny killing anyone.\n But when I mentioned Harriet, he was\n confused. He was angry - at me - for\n not being able to tell him what\n happened to her.\n (pause)\n He"],["he died.\n\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\n BLOMKVIST\n Why didn't you tell someone?\n HARRIET\n I did. My mother.\n\n Blomkvist stares. Finally -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Henrik would have done something.\n\n HARRIET\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\n told him. But I was afraid because",".\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What did he think about that?\n HARRIET\n Nothing. Only that he loved her.\n She said, If you love me, you'll do\n this and not ask why. He never did.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n They both died twenty years ago.\n\n HARRIET\n A car accident. You found that, too.\n\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\n pocket -","KVIST\n Harriet?\n\n SALANDER\n I think so.\n\n Blomkvist can't look at the photos long. Sets them\n down. Something's troubling him -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Martin didn't deny killing anyone.\n But when I mentioned Harriet, he was\n confused. He was angry - at me - for\n not being able to tell him what\n happened to her.\n (pause)\n He","She moves off. Her friends look after\n her confused. And then she's gone.\n Blomkvist backs up to the frame of Harriet looking off\n with fear in her eyes, and for the first time believes\n without a doubt what Vanger has believed for 40 years:\n\n She was murdered. Whoever she saw across the street\n followed her and killed her. The cat watches him.\n126 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\n\n Bjurman slowly comes to."," MORELL O/S\n Of course I do, but what would it\n have to do with anything?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Nothing probably.\n\n As Blomkvist glances to the last page in Harriet's\n address book, to R.J. 30114 -\n\n MORELL O/S\n Jacobsson. Rebecka Jacobsson.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n How was she killed?\n MORELL O","\npoliceman - when it happened.\n BLOMKVIST\nMorell.\n\n ANITA\nMy recollections then were a lot\nbetter than they are now.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nI'm not speaking of the crime itself.\nI'm trying to get a clearer sense of\nwhat Harriet was like. Particularly,\ntoward the end.\n\n ANITA\nShe was messed up. Like all us\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\nfather. At least hers","t\n because Harriet is indeed dead.\n247 INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - LATER - NIGHT 247\n\n It's strange perhaps, but he does some of his best\n thinking during sex -\n BLOMKVIST\n I was just thinking. What if -\n\n SALANDER\n Ten more seconds.\n That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\n\n SALANDER\n Okay, what",". Which\n I'd very much like to see if by some\n miracle you still have them.\n MILDRED\n It wouldn't be a miracle. We were on\n our honeymoon. But why?\n\n Blomkvist thinks about making something up. Decides not\n to. Indicates Harriet in the photo -\n BLOMKVIST\n This girl was killed that day, soon\n after seeing something across the\n street that frightened her.\n\n MILDRED\n How awful.","she was very unhappy.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n She never confided in you what about,\n specifically?\n ANITA\n There was no specifically. It was\n everything. It was being part of\n that family. Henrik's the only\n decent person in it.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What do you think happened to her?\n\n ANITA\n Everyone knows what.\n BLOMKVIST\n But you have no ... thoughts about\n why, or","\n VANGER\n She was bright and curious, a\n winning combination in any person.\n BLOMKVIST\n And beautiful.\n Vanger nods as he regards the photo ...\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Something happened to her?\n\n Vanger nods again; is silent for several moments ...\n VANGER\n Someone in the family murdered\n Harriet and for the last forty years\n has been trying to drive me insane.\n33 OMIT:","\nI wouldn't know where to start, if\nthat was a question.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nI can narrow it. I've gotten up to\nthe 1960s. To the event that altered\neverything in Henrik's life.\n ANITA\nHarriet.\n (he nods)\nEverything I knew about that I told\nto - whatever his name was - that\npoliceman - when it happened.\n BLOMKVIST\nMorell.\n\n ANITA\nMy recollections"," The Rebecka Case is something that\n happened before Harriet was born.\n I'm talking about the soul of a\n policeman. Poor Torstensson could\n never solve it, and could never let\n it go.\n And neither can poor Morell with his Harriet case.\n78 EXT. STOCKHOLM - DAY 78\n\n An unexciting social welfare building.\n\n79 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - DAY 79\n\n As"," Indeed he was.\n\n Vanger's look to Blomkvist adds, `so consider him a\n suspect.' He indicates another house on the grounds -\n VANGER\n That's his daughter Cecilia's house.\n They don't speak.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Does anyone speak to anyone on this\n island?\n\n VANGER\n Actually, Isabella - Harriet's mother\n - who lives there -\n (points)\n - she speaks to Harald","this.\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm not so sure.\n\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\n FRODE\n What do you mean?\n 76.\n 76.\n\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I may have found something.\n\n FRODE\n (pause)\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's","\n CECILIA\n Unlike the one that landed you in\n court.\n BLOMKVIST\n Unlike that one. Correct.\n CECILIA\n So, what you're saying is, you're\n not really here to look into what\n happened to Harriet.\n\nSilence. Then -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I can't ignore such a dramatic event,\n but no, that's not by any means my\n focus.\n CECIL"," well. She left early. But they also\n said she kept secrets from them, too.\n The main thing I learned talking to\n them for hours is that teenage girls\n are complicated.\n BLOMKVIST\n I have one.\n\n MORELL\n So you know.\n (Blomkvist does indeed)\n Did you bring the last gift Henrik\n received?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's at the National Forensic Lab.\n\n MORELL\n",".\n 143.\n \n\n BLOMKVIST\n I was so she'd lead us to her.\n\n SALANDER\n Put your hand back on my shoulder.\n He does. They watch the solitaire game together ...\n SALANDER\n There's only one reason she\n wouldn't call Harriet. She can't\n because Harriet is indeed dead.\n247 INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - LATER -"," MORELL\n And very bright. Henrik told me he\n could easily imagine her running the\n business someday, which would mean\n someone else wouldn't.\n\n\n BLOMKVIST\n She was with some friends that day.\n At a parade. You must have talked to\n them.\n\n MORELL\n She told them she wasn't feeling\n well. She left early. But they also\n said she kept secrets from them, too.\n The main thing I learned talking to\n ","biography.\n LIV\n I love Henrik. He's fascinating.\n Martin, too. Together they're the\n Old Sweden and the New.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n They are.\n LIV\n You know about Harriet, right?\n\nBlomkvist doesn't say. The sound of the wind stops.\n LIV\n You don't?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I do.\n\nMartin emerges from the cellar with a bottle"," Rebecka Jacobsson.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n How was she killed?\n MORELL O/S\n Decapitated. Arms cut off. Burned.\n\n Like the Leviticus dove. A siren. Ambulance coming\n past, headed for the bridge.\n\n MORELL O/S\n But this happened in the 1940's -\n BLOMKVIST\n Hang on a second.\n\n He"],["\n Blomkvist knocks on the door. Anita pulls it open.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's me. Sorry to bother you.\n\n She doesn't invite him in, but doesn't shut the door in\n his face either.\n ANITA\n What do you want?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n No one's called you?\n\n ANITA\n About.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n ","one's called you?\n\n ANITA\n About.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Your cousin.\n\n She has two, but doesn't ask which -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Martin.\n\n ANITA\n What about him?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n He died last Thursday. A car\n accident. I'm sorry.\n (nothing from her)\n There's going to be","the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\nwas about 17 years old.\n\n CECILIA\n She knew Harriet better than anyone -\n certainly better than I did. You\n should talk to her.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'd love to, where is she.\n CECILIA\n If I had to guess - London.\n BLOMKVIST\n You don't know where your own sister\n lives?\n\n CECILIA\n ","\n\n ANITA\n I never saw it myself, but you could\n tell something was going on. One day\n she'd be withdrawn. The next she'd\n be putting on makeup and wearing the\n tightest sweater she had to school.\n The next she'd be studying a Bible\n like a nun - no Vanger was ever\n religious - can you imagine?\n Obviously, she was very unhappy.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n She never confided in you what about,\n specifically?\n ",".\n\n ANITA\n What do you understand?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n That you don't really care for any of\n your relatives. Still, I thought you\n should know.\n\n ANITA\n Now I know.\n\n And now, she closes the door.\n 142.\n 142.\n \n\n244 OMIT: INT. ANITA'S HOUSE - LOND","Thursday. A car\n accident. I'm sorry.\n (nothing from her)\n There's going to be a memorial in\n Hedestad. I know you haven't been\n back there in a long time, but -\n ANITA\n I'm not interested in any memorial.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I understand.\n\n ANITA\n What do you understand?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n That you don","she was very unhappy.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n She never confided in you what about,\n specifically?\n ANITA\n There was no specifically. It was\n everything. It was being part of\n that family. Henrik's the only\n decent person in it.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What do you think happened to her?\n\n ANITA\n Everyone knows what.\n BLOMKVIST\n But you have no ... thoughts about\n why, or","The accent is all British. She's been here much longer\n than her home country. No trace of Swedish anymore. He\n offers his hand -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm Mikael.\n\n ANITA\n Mikael. How do you do.\n\n As he sits, she regards him a little more carefully ...\n\n ANITA\n You're looking for investment\n counseling, Mikael?\n BLOMKVIST\n I would if had any money to invest.","That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\n\n SALANDER\n Okay, what.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I was just thinking, there could be\n one other possibility.\n\n248 OMIT: INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - NIGHT 248\n249 INT. INVESTMENT BANK - LONDON - DAY 249\n\n Blomkvist taps on Anita'"," ANITA\nShe was messed up. Like all us\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\nfather. At least hers wasn't a Nazi\nlike mine.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nWas he abusive?\n\n ANITA\nMine?\n BLOMKVIST\nHers.\n 52.\n 52.\n \n\n ANITA\n I never saw it myself, but you could\n tell something was going on. One day\n she'","\npoliceman - when it happened.\n BLOMKVIST\nMorell.\n\n ANITA\nMy recollections then were a lot\nbetter than they are now.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nI'm not speaking of the crime itself.\nI'm trying to get a clearer sense of\nwhat Harriet was like. Particularly,\ntoward the end.\n\n ANITA\nShe was messed up. Like all us\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\nfather. At least hers","Behind her, Harriet packs a few items of clothing.\n\n ANITA\n Don't take anything.\n Harriet puts the clothes back. Picks up her purse.\n\n ANITA\n Leave that, too.\n\n256 INT. VANGER MANOR - NIGHT - 1966 256\n\n The dinner that night. Vanger noticing Harriet's empty\n chair. And Anita saying nothing, taking a bite of food.\n\n257 EXT","ANITA\n Everyone knows what.\n BLOMKVIST\n But you have no ... thoughts about\n why, or who.\n ANITA\n All I know is I always felt sorry\n for her. Even more than for myself.\n I got out of there when I was 18 and\n never went back. She would have done\n the same but didn't make it to 18.\n96 EXT. STOCKHOLM - DAY 96\n\n Salander, on","\nI wouldn't know where to start, if\nthat was a question.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nI can narrow it. I've gotten up to\nthe 1960s. To the event that altered\neverything in Henrik's life.\n ANITA\nHarriet.\n (he nods)\nEverything I knew about that I told\nto - whatever his name was - that\npoliceman - when it happened.\n BLOMKVIST\nMorell.\n\n ANITA\nMy recollections","s.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Is she's alive, there's only one\n person in this family who would know\n where she is.\n\n He takes the photo of Anita down from the wall.\n\n239 INT. HOSPITAL - DAY 239\n Henrik sits in one of the chairs. Blomkvist in another.\n Salander prefers to stand. Eventually -\n VANGER\n Poor Martin.\n\n Clearly, he hasn","car outside her father Harald's\n house. Drives down the road toward the bridge.\n ANITA\n Stay absolutely still.\n\n The blanket covering Harriet on the backseat floorboard\n moves slightly, then is still.\n A policeman on the island side of the bridge waves the\n car across it. As it heads along the mainland service\n road toward the highway -\n HARRIET V/O\n She saved me.\n\n258 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY","hung me\n from a hook ... Harriet.\n250 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 250\n They sit together on a park bench.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Anita married in Stockholm in 1967.\n It's recorded in the Swedish General\n Register. But the family never knew,\n did they.\n (she confirms that with a\n shake of her head)\n I'm guessing she then","BLOMKVIST\n He was my age then, and so couldn't\n know what was really going on with a\n teenager any more than I can with my\n own daughter. You were her age.\n 46.\n 46.\n \n\n CECILIA\n Actually, my sister Anita was closer\n to her in age.\n\nINSERT of the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\nwas about 17 years old.\n\n CECILIA\n She","as\n they tether cables to computers in the van. Blomkvist\n just watches. Finally, to him -\n\n SALANDER\n It's your turn.\n 141.\n 141.\n \n\n243 EXT. ANITA'S HOUSE - LONDON - NIGHT 243\n\n Blomkvist knocks on the door. Anita pulls it open.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n ","response Cecilia\n predicted, but it doesn't come.\n95 EXT. CAFE - LONDON - DAY 95\n\n They sit together at a little table on the sidewalk.\n ANITA\n How is Henrik?\n BLOMKVIST\n Good. Engaging. I like him.\n\n She does, too.\n 51.\n 51.\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\n\n ANITA"],["\n ... I don't even remember\n Wennerstrom working here, much less\n being fired ...\n BLOMKVIST\n Why would you. It was a long time\n ago. Which is more to the point than\n the money he embezzled.\n\n FRODE\n I don't think I'm seeing the point.\n BLOMKVIST\n Yes, you are.\n FRODE\n (another look at the\n paperwork)\n It",")\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's Blomkvist who studies Frode. He's not sure he\nwants to tell him. And even less so the longer he looks.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n The last time I reported something\n before I was sure of it, it cost me\n my savings.\n\nFrode studies him again - wondering perhaps if Blomkvist\nsuspects him.\n BLOMK","this.\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm not so sure.\n\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\n FRODE\n What do you mean?\n 76.\n 76.\n\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I may have found something.\n\n FRODE\n (pause)\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's","\n FRODE\n A Scotch.\nBlomkvist pours him one, and another for himself.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I don't want to be indelicate. But\n Henrik promised me something when I\n agreed to do this.\n FRODE\n Wennerstrom.\n BLOMKVIST\n (nods)\n I need to know what he has on him.\n Now. In case.\n\n FRODE\n In case he","ERIKA\n This time I do want to know.\n BLOMKVIST\n I have access to his computer, and\n his accountants' and lawyers'.\n\n She isn't happy to hear that explanation.\n\n ERIKA\n And how do you have that?\n BLOMKVIST\n I could have gotten it from a source\n inside the company.\n ERIKA\n But you didn't.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n But that's","If I had, I never\n would have let him bring you up here.\n But he wasn't trying to deceive you.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Come on, he knows you can't try\n somebody for this 35 years later. I\n like Henrik, but he knows that.\n Frode disagrees -\n\n FRODE\n A man's reputation used to mean\n something - he still believes that.\n I'm sure he thought you could destroy\n Wennerstrom with this"," BLOMKVIST\n And I still would have lost.\n\n GREGOR\n Did you have ... anything on him.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I had a lot. It just wasn't any\n good.\n\n ERIKA\n It wasn't even about Mikael. It\n was Wennerstrom sending a message to\n the press as a whole - and the FSA:\n Don't ask questions.\n\nBlomkvist's daughter seems concerned for him"," well. She left early. But they also\n said she kept secrets from them, too.\n The main thing I learned talking to\n them for hours is that teenage girls\n are complicated.\n BLOMKVIST\n I have one.\n\n MORELL\n So you know.\n (Blomkvist does indeed)\n Did you bring the last gift Henrik\n received?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's at the National Forensic Lab.\n\n MORELL\n"," 295A\n The same cafe Blomkvist retreated to after his libel\n conviction.\n REPORTER O/S\n A man who police in Marbella, Spain,\n have confirmed is fugitive Hans-Erik\n Wennerstrom -\n 163.\n 163.\n \n\n295B INT. CAFE - STOCKHOLM - DAY 295B\n\n Blomkvist is at the counter, across"," about Wennerstrom?\n\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\n SALANDER\n I started investigating him on my\n own. Then you showed up and hired\n me. I haven't had a chance to look\n at it all - you and Harriet-fucking-\n Vanger have kept me busy ... but I\n may have something.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n (pause)\n On Wennerstrom.\n\n ","was stupid. I got something from\n an anonymous source, who I'm sure now\n worked for him. It was fake. Which\n he easily proved in court.\n Not a good day, that. Then -\n SALANDER\n You were emphatic that the way I\n looked into your life was illegal and\n immoral. Would you feel the same\n about Wennerstrom?\n\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\n SALANDER\n I","LOMKVIST\n How are you feeling?\n\n VANGER\n I'm fine. Thank you, Anna.\n Anna leaves. Closes the doors. Before Blomkvist can say\n anything else -\n\n VANGER\n I made you a promise. Whether you\n found out anything or not.\n\n He holds out the file. Blomkvist takes it and sees:\n INSERT: Wennerstorm's name typed on it, and a fairly\n recent photo of him clipped","IN\n How's the investigation?\n BLOMKVIST\n Nothing new to report.\n\n Blomkvist notices a drop of blood from his pantleg on\n the stone floor and covers it up with his shoe. Martin,\n not seeming to notice, finds a mini-Maglite in the\n drawer.\n\n MARTIN\n Dirch says Ms. Salander is clever.\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Maybe.\n","\n\n SALANDER\n I know.\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\n list of names and initials he gave her -\n\n SALANDER\n The five cases from Harriet's\n list. And five more she missed -\n three I'm sure about.\n\n Five more? Blomkvist stares at her but she's turned back\n to her laptop, bringing up police reports and crime scene\n photos.\n SALANDER\n Rebecka","of 12 billion dollars (80 billion kronor)\n ... 82-foot yacht, villa on the island of Varmdo ...\n\n She does a third search, types:\n Wennerstrom+Vanger Industries - and hits the `cached'\n option -\n\n There are only a couple of results that include both\n terms. She goes to one of them, a body of text of some\n old page with the cached terms highlighted in yellow and\n blue, and reads -\n\n ... Hans-Erik Wen","sued him -\n The Wennerstrom Group - of criminal\n activities on a global scale -\n backing it up with internal financial\n reports, bank records and emails -\n annotations almost as long as the\n article itself.\n\nThe cover of the magazine features a head shot of\nWennerstrom, and, rare for the magazine, a tabloid-style\ntitle: GANGLAND. Salander leafs through the article as\nBlomkvist brushes his teeth in the bathroom.\n\n\n\n\n BLOMK","\nI wouldn't know where to start, if\nthat was a question.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nI can narrow it. I've gotten up to\nthe 1960s. To the event that altered\neverything in Henrik's life.\n ANITA\nHarriet.\n (he nods)\nEverything I knew about that I told\nto - whatever his name was - that\npoliceman - when it happened.\n BLOMKVIST\nMorell.\n\n ANITA\nMy recollections"," MORELL\n And very bright. Henrik told me he\n could easily imagine her running the\n business someday, which would mean\n someone else wouldn't.\n\n\n BLOMKVIST\n She was with some friends that day.\n At a parade. You must have talked to\n them.\n\n MORELL\n She told them she wasn't feeling\n well. She left early. But they also\n said she kept secrets from them, too.\n The main thing I learned talking to\n "," Yes, it was quite thorough.\n BLOMKVIST\n I want to read it.\n FRODE\n That I couldn't authorize.\n 77.\n 77.\n \n\n Blomkvist isn't sure how to play this. Then he is.\n Sets his napkin down, gets up and begins taking things\n down from the wall. Frode watches. Then sighs.\n135 EXT. STOCKHOLM - DUSK ","She moves off. Her friends look after\n her confused. And then she's gone.\n Blomkvist backs up to the frame of Harriet looking off\n with fear in her eyes, and for the first time believes\n without a doubt what Vanger has believed for 40 years:\n\n She was murdered. Whoever she saw across the street\n followed her and killed her. The cat watches him.\n126 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\n\n Bjurman slowly comes to."],["\n FRODE\n A Scotch.\nBlomkvist pours him one, and another for himself.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I don't want to be indelicate. But\n Henrik promised me something when I\n agreed to do this.\n FRODE\n Wennerstrom.\n BLOMKVIST\n (nods)\n I need to know what he has on him.\n Now. In case.\n\n FRODE\n In case he","ERIKA\n This time I do want to know.\n BLOMKVIST\n I have access to his computer, and\n his accountants' and lawyers'.\n\n She isn't happy to hear that explanation.\n\n ERIKA\n And how do you have that?\n BLOMKVIST\n I could have gotten it from a source\n inside the company.\n ERIKA\n But you didn't.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n But that's","an investment in\n the magazine.\n BLOMKVIST\n I gather. Why would you want to do\n that?\n\n MARTIN\n Not for the return, that's for sure.\n\n VANGER\n (to Erika)\n I feel bad that I've take Mikael\n away from you at the worst possible\n time. This is the right thing to do.\n The moral thing. That's one reason.\n\n ERIKA\n And.\n "," BLOMKVIST\n And I still would have lost.\n\n GREGOR\n Did you have ... anything on him.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I had a lot. It just wasn't any\n good.\n\n ERIKA\n It wasn't even about Mikael. It\n was Wennerstrom sending a message to\n the press as a whole - and the FSA:\n Don't ask questions.\n\nBlomkvist's daughter seems concerned for him","If I had, I never\n would have let him bring you up here.\n But he wasn't trying to deceive you.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Come on, he knows you can't try\n somebody for this 35 years later. I\n like Henrik, but he knows that.\n Frode disagrees -\n\n FRODE\n A man's reputation used to mean\n something - he still believes that.\n I'm sure he thought you could destroy\n Wennerstrom with this","A\n What are you doing?\n 10.\n 10.\n \n\n BLOMKVIST\n Writing the press release.\n\n ERIKA\n Saying -\n BLOMKVIST\n You're taking over as publisher.\n You're sorry for any nuisance\n Wennerstrom was caused. I can't be\n reached for comment.\n\n ERIKA\n You're giving up.\n B","sorry. I'm about to sit down to\n Christmas dinner myself.\n BLOMKVIST\n That's not what I mean.\n\n FRODE O/S\n You're referring to your recent\n legal trouble. That has provided Mr.\n Vanger with some entertainment.\n BLOMKVIST\n Excuse me?\n\n FRODE O/S\n He doesn't care for Wennerstrom\n either.\n\n Frode",")\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's Blomkvist who studies Frode. He's not sure he\nwants to tell him. And even less so the longer he looks.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n The last time I reported something\n before I was sure of it, it cost me\n my savings.\n\nFrode studies him again - wondering perhaps if Blomkvist\nsuspects him.\n BLOMK"," about Wennerstrom?\n\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\n SALANDER\n I started investigating him on my\n own. Then you showed up and hired\n me. I haven't had a chance to look\n at it all - you and Harriet-fucking-\n Vanger have kept me busy ... but I\n may have something.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n (pause)\n On Wennerstrom.\n\n ","\n ... I don't even remember\n Wennerstrom working here, much less\n being fired ...\n BLOMKVIST\n Why would you. It was a long time\n ago. Which is more to the point than\n the money he embezzled.\n\n FRODE\n I don't think I'm seeing the point.\n BLOMKVIST\n Yes, you are.\n FRODE\n (another look at the\n paperwork)\n It","this.\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm not so sure.\n\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\n FRODE\n What do you mean?\n 76.\n 76.\n\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I may have found something.\n\n FRODE\n (pause)\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's","Millennium magazine which\n according to analysts has been in\n financial trouble since last December\n when its cofounder Mikael Blomkvist\n was found guilty of libel against\n Hans-Erik Wennerstrom -\n111 INT. MILLENNIUM'S OFFICES - DAY 111\n\n A news crew has crammed itself inside Erika's office,\n where a reporter interviews her -\n\n ERIKA\n We made a serious mistake last year,","\n terrible negotiator. It's what you\n want more than anything else and it\n can't be bought at any price. I'll\n give it to you ... Hans-Erik\n Wennerstrom.\n\n He pushes toward Blomkvist a plate: the carcass of the\n fresh-killed and cooked duck they've been eating. It and\n the mention of Wennerstrom's name clouds, at least for a\n moment, Blomkvist's memory of the train",")\n I need to know what he has on him.\n Now. In case.\n\n FRODE\n In case he dies? That is indelicate.\n BLOMKVIST\n And I apologize.\n\n FRODE\n I don't know what he has on him, if\n you're asking me. And he can't tell\n you in the condition he's in. So ...\n is that it then?\nSilence. Blomkvist drinks. Eventually -\n\n ","RIKA\n Smoking?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Just one.\nHe sits, exhausted and depressed, in a cheap Poang chair.\n ERIKA\n TV4 called. I told them no\n statement until we've read the\n judgment in its entirety.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I have. Who else?\n ERIKA\n Everyone who's ever wanted to see\n you humiliated.\n BLOMKVIST\n You'","was stupid. I got something from\n an anonymous source, who I'm sure now\n worked for him. It was fake. Which\n he easily proved in court.\n Not a good day, that. Then -\n SALANDER\n You were emphatic that the way I\n looked into your life was illegal and\n immoral. Would you feel the same\n about Wennerstrom?\n\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\n SALANDER\n I","\n \n\n BLOMKVIST\n Wennerstrom wants to see me waving\n a white flag, not a red one. And the\n more it looks like there's a problem\n between you and me, the more it'll\n satisfy him.\n\n ERIKA\n There is a problem between us. He\n won't be satisfied until he shuts us\n down, and you're leaving me to fight\n him alone.\n\n He kisses her but gets back no more than he would","omkvist.\n\n FRODE\n Do you want to stop?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I have police reports, photos,\n Henrik's notes, my own notes, and\n Lisbeth's research. What I don't\n have are Vanger Industries records.\n That's what I want.\n\n FRODE\n Why?\n\nBlomkvist doesn't say. Only -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Will you authorize it?\n","family.\n 45.\n 45.\n \n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's not about the family. It's\n about Henrik and the company.\n\n CECILIA\n Like I said.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's not my intention to present a\n malicious portrait of anyone.\n\n CECILIA\n Unlike the one that landed you in\n court.\n BLOMKVIST\n Unlike"," 80.\n 80.\n \n\n BLOMKVIST\n Your report on me was quite detailed\n but for me not very entertaining.\n\n A copy of it sits next to his plate.\n SALANDER\n It wasn't meant to be.\n BLOMKVIST\n When I write about people, I try to\n entertain the reader.\n\n SALANDER\n Wennerstrom wasn't entertained.\n "],["Millennium magazine which\n according to analysts has been in\n financial trouble since last December\n when its cofounder Mikael Blomkvist\n was found guilty of libel against\n Hans-Erik Wennerstrom -\n111 INT. MILLENNIUM'S OFFICES - DAY 111\n\n A news crew has crammed itself inside Erika's office,\n where a reporter interviews her -\n\n ERIKA\n We made a serious mistake last year,","an investment in\n the magazine.\n BLOMKVIST\n I gather. Why would you want to do\n that?\n\n MARTIN\n Not for the return, that's for sure.\n\n VANGER\n (to Erika)\n I feel bad that I've take Mikael\n away from you at the worst possible\n time. This is the right thing to do.\n The moral thing. That's one reason.\n\n ERIKA\n And.\n "," Your independence is dependant on\n advertisers - if we're being honest.\n However much you think that is, you'd\n retain. We don't care about content.\n\nBlomkvist suddenly feels like someone coming late to a\nparty.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Excuse me. Did I miss something?\n VANGER\n We're talking about an investment in\n the magazine.\n BLOMKVIST\n I gather. Why would you want to do\n that","IN\n How's the investigation?\n BLOMKVIST\n Nothing new to report.\n\n Blomkvist notices a drop of blood from his pantleg on\n the stone floor and covers it up with his shoe. Martin,\n not seeming to notice, finds a mini-Maglite in the\n drawer.\n\n MARTIN\n Dirch says Ms. Salander is clever.\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Maybe.\n","ERIKA\n This time I do want to know.\n BLOMKVIST\n I have access to his computer, and\n his accountants' and lawyers'.\n\n She isn't happy to hear that explanation.\n\n ERIKA\n And how do you have that?\n BLOMKVIST\n I could have gotten it from a source\n inside the company.\n ERIKA\n But you didn't.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n But that's"," 4.\n 4.\n \n\n ERIKA\n Where you been?\n\nErika Berger is about Blomkvist's age, and - like the\nIKEA furniture - sends a mixed message: a feminist in a\nmini-skirt.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Walking. Thinking.\n\n ERIKA\n Smoking?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Just one.\nHe sits, exhausted and depressed, in","sued him -\n The Wennerstrom Group - of criminal\n activities on a global scale -\n backing it up with internal financial\n reports, bank records and emails -\n annotations almost as long as the\n article itself.\n\nThe cover of the magazine features a head shot of\nWennerstrom, and, rare for the magazine, a tabloid-style\ntitle: GANGLAND. Salander leafs through the article as\nBlomkvist brushes his teeth in the bathroom.\n\n\n\n\n BLOMK"," SALANDER\n Who is it?\n BLOMKVIST O/S\n Mikael Blomkvist.\n Her mind races, as Blomkvist's did to the news someone\n had invaded his privacy. She unlocks the door. Cracks\n it enough to see him. He smiles, but it's disconcerting.\n She's not sure it's a harmless one.\n BLOMKVIST\n May I come in?\n SALANDER\n"," interested.\n\n He is.\n108 INT. VANGER MANOR - EVENING 108\n\n Vanger and Martin all but ignore Blomkvist as they chat\n with Erika over dinner. They seem charmed by her.\n\n VANGER\n I apologize if you're having\n financial problems at the magazine\n in Mikael's absence.\n ERIKA\n We'll work through them.\n VANGER\n Are you",",\n using more pages torn from one of his books, Erika wraps\n herself in a blanket. The cat, who has no trouble with\n the cold, naps on the paperwork on the desk.\n BLOMKVIST\n What have I missed besides you?\n ERIKA\n The steady exodus of two-thirds of\n our advertisers.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Seriously?\n\n ERIKA\n Is that hard to"," SALANDER\n How much do one of those cost?\n\n TELEVISION IMAGE:\n\n A bland financial announcer reading the news. The\n graphic to the side of him is the distinctive V.I. logo\n of Vanger Industries.\n ANNOUNCER\n Petrochemical manufacturer Vanger\n Industries has acquired a controlling\n interest in Millennium magazine which\n according to analysts has been in\n financial trouble since last December\n when its cofounder Mik","this.\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm not so sure.\n\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\n FRODE\n What do you mean?\n 76.\n 76.\n\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I may have found something.\n\n FRODE\n (pause)\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's","BLOMKVIST\n That's comforting. Are you hungry?\n Want a sandwich?\n\n SALANDER\n No.\n Busy setting up her laptop on his desk, starting it up,\n sitting down at it, she's all but ignoring him.\n BLOMKVIST\n I used to have a motorcycle. When I\n was 19.\n\n SALANDER\n I know.\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\n ","FRODE\n Actually, Isabella, Mr. Blomkvist\n works for Henrik.\n ISABELLA\n And who do you work for, Dirch?\n Remind me who pays your salary?\n\n BIRGER\n We should put this to a vote.\n\n MARTIN\n Don't be an idiot, Birger.\n\n BIRGER\n It's a family decision like any\n other. Cecilia?\n\n CECILIA\n What.\n ","toward them, microphones and cameras swing\n in his direction. Without stopping -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What is this, the media event of the\n year?\n REPORTER 1\n Don't try to play it down, Mikael, it\n won't work.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Don't try to play it up, that won't\n either.\n4A EXT. COURTHOUSE - STOCKHOLM - DAY - CONTINU","A\n What are you doing?\n 10.\n 10.\n \n\n BLOMKVIST\n Writing the press release.\n\n ERIKA\n Saying -\n BLOMKVIST\n You're taking over as publisher.\n You're sorry for any nuisance\n Wennerstrom was caused. I can't be\n reached for comment.\n\n ERIKA\n You're giving up.\n B",")\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's Blomkvist who studies Frode. He's not sure he\nwants to tell him. And even less so the longer he looks.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n The last time I reported something\n before I was sure of it, it cost me\n my savings.\n\nFrode studies him again - wondering perhaps if Blomkvist\nsuspects him.\n BLOMK","She pours milk in her coffee from the carton she just\n bought. Pushes over two faded Polaroid photos. He picks\n them up:\n One shows a young girl about 14, naked from the waist up,\n head turned half-away from the camera. The second shows\n her on her stomach on a bed, completely naked, face\n turned to the photographer, frightened.\n BLOMKVIST\n Harriet?\n\n SALANDER\n I think so.\n\n Blomkvist",". Then -\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm pretty sure this isn't a good\n idea.\n SALANDER\n Why.\n\n He extracts his head from the cocoon and looks at her.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Apart from the fact that I'm old, we\n work together.\n SALANDER\n You work with what's-her-name.\n That's worked out for you.\n\n","good one. She did the\n background check on you.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n The.\n\n FRODE\n Do you think we'd hire anyone for\n something like this without doing\n one?\nBlomkvist's brain tries to quickly inventory his life,\npausing at its darker recesses. Frode nods.\n\n FRODE\n Yes, it was quite thorough.\n BLOMKVIST\n I want to read it.\n FRODE\n"],["lining the\n street. Harriet isn't in it.\n\n But in the next she appears at the edge of the frame\n with her school friends. In the next, she's further into\n frame. And the next, standing in the same spot he stood\n earlier today.\n\n124 OMIT - INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT 124\n 67.\n 67.\n \n\n125 INT. COTTAGE -"," Indeed he was.\n\n Vanger's look to Blomkvist adds, `so consider him a\n suspect.' He indicates another house on the grounds -\n VANGER\n That's his daughter Cecilia's house.\n They don't speak.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Does anyone speak to anyone on this\n island?\n\n VANGER\n Actually, Isabella - Harriet's mother\n - who lives there -\n (points)\n - she speaks to Harald","the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\nwas about 17 years old.\n\n CECILIA\n She knew Harriet better than anyone -\n certainly better than I did. You\n should talk to her.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'd love to, where is she.\n CECILIA\n If I had to guess - London.\n BLOMKVIST\n You don't know where your own sister\n lives?\n\n CECILIA\n ","\n HARRIET\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\n told him. But I was afraid because\n of what I did.\n (pause)\n You still don't understand?\n\n He doesn't. She studies him, and perhaps sees in him\n what Salander did long ago - that he can be trusted.\n HARRIET\n A year after the first time -\n after many times during that year -\n my father got drunker than usual one\n ","KVIST\n Harriet?\n\n SALANDER\n I think so.\n\n Blomkvist can't look at the photos long. Sets them\n down. Something's troubling him -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Martin didn't deny killing anyone.\n But when I mentioned Harriet, he was\n confused. He was angry - at me - for\n not being able to tell him what\n happened to her.\n (pause)\n He","did they.\n (she confirms that with a\n shake of her head)\n I'm guessing she then came here on a\n passport in her married name, and you\n followed on her maiden name passport.\n HARRIET\n Actually, it was the other way\n around. She thought it safer for me\n to travel with Spencer myself.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What did he think about that?\n HARRIET\n Nothing","Actually, Isabella - Harriet's mother\n - who lives there -\n (points)\n - she speaks to Harald - which is one\n of reasons I don't speak to her.\n (points)\n Cecilia's brother Birger lives there.\n BLOMKVIST\n Who doesn't he speak to?\n VANGER\n You, probably. Not that you'd want\n him to. He can be as unpleasant as\n Harald.\n 32.","of the oar down, burying it in his head\n like an axe.\n\n He stares up her, uncomprehending. His fingers slide\n away from the dock. His body goes limp and sinks out of\n sight beneath the water.\n HARRIET V/O\n When it was finally over I looked\n up, and Martin was standing there -\n\n She sees her brother up by the cabin looking down at her.\n HARRIET V/O\n With a little smile.\n","across the street\n from where Harriet was standing:\n\n INSERT: Couples, kids, a clown.\n INSERT: The watch repair shop clock that reads, 2:00.\n\n INSERT: A figure standing slightly apart from the other\n people.\n It's too blurry to make out his face or age, but he has\n light brown hair, dark slacks, and a dark blazer with\n some kind of patch on the pocket.\n\n184 EXT. STOCK","She sees her brother up by the cabin looking down at her.\n HARRIET V/O\n With a little smile.\n252 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 252\n\n HARRIET\n He dragged me back to the cabin ...\n All I'd accomplished was substitute\n one rapist for another.\n\n253 EXT. HEDESTAD - DAY - 1966 253\n\n Young Harriet and her school","HARRIET V/O\n She saved me.\n\n258 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 258\n Silence. Then she gestures to Blomkvist's neck.\n\n HARRIET\n How did you get away?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Someone saved me, too.\n 148.\n 148.\n \n\n He gestures off to the thin, strange girl sitting on","Harriet most of all.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Excuse me?\n\n SALANDER\n If she'd done anything but run,\n Martin wouldn't have been able to\n kill all those women.\n BLOMKVIST\n She had no idea he was doing it.\n\n SALANDER\n She should have killed her father and\n him.\n BLOMKVIST\n That's what you would've done","She pours milk in her coffee from the carton she just\n bought. Pushes over two faded Polaroid photos. He picks\n them up:\n One shows a young girl about 14, naked from the waist up,\n head turned half-away from the camera. The second shows\n her on her stomach on a bed, completely naked, face\n turned to the photographer, frightened.\n BLOMKVIST\n Harriet?\n\n SALANDER\n I think so.\n\n Blomkvist","he died.\n\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\n BLOMKVIST\n Why didn't you tell someone?\n HARRIET\n I did. My mother.\n\n Blomkvist stares. Finally -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Henrik would have done something.\n\n HARRIET\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\n told him. But I was afraid because","The children of the \"thieves, misers, bullies and\n incompetents\" play on a beach. A shutter blinks freezing\n a 12-year-old girl in foreground in black and white -\n\n VANGER V/O\n This is Harriet. The granddaughter\n of my brother Richard.\n\n32 INT. VANGER'S STUDY - DAY 32\n The same photograph of Harriet in a photo album Vanger\n shows Blomkvist.\n ","hung me\n from a hook ... Harriet.\n250 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 250\n They sit together on a park bench.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Anita married in Stockholm in 1967.\n It's recorded in the Swedish General\n Register. But the family never knew,\n did they.\n (she confirms that with a\n shake of her head)\n I'm guessing she then","car outside her father Harald's\n house. Drives down the road toward the bridge.\n ANITA\n Stay absolutely still.\n\n The blanket covering Harriet on the backseat floorboard\n moves slightly, then is still.\n A policeman on the island side of the bridge waves the\n car across it. As it heads along the mainland service\n road toward the highway -\n HARRIET V/O\n She saved me.\n\n258 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY",". He checks a scribbled floor plan of\n the manor and sees that it's Harriet's bedroom.\n\n But he's not sure if it's Harriet. The figure is too\n soft to identify - even with a magnifying glass - but is\n wearing a light-colored dress and has light hair.\n He glances to the family tree on the wall - the teenage\n Vanger girls' photos -\n\n Three INSERTS: Harriet ... Cecelia ... Anita ...\n\n They all have light hair, and","\n VANGER\n She was bright and curious, a\n winning combination in any person.\n BLOMKVIST\n And beautiful.\n Vanger nods as he regards the photo ...\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Something happened to her?\n\n Vanger nods again; is silent for several moments ...\n VANGER\n Someone in the family murdered\n Harriet and for the last forty years\n has been trying to drive me insane.\n33 OMIT:",", Minuet\n in G, dissolve at two-second intervals. Too long. Too\n distracting with the music. And too wide.\n He adjusts the size function - closer on Harriet gets\n rid of the dissolve effect and music and reduces the time-\n interval to make the transitions as quick as possible.\n\n He hits `play' again and watches a short jerky `silent\n film'- a kind of electronic flip-book:\n\n Harriet arrives with her friends. Moves along the\n street. Stops and faces the"],["\n Shall we start with me?\n (pause)\n Shall we start now?\n\nAs he comes around the desk, she eyes a sharp letter\nopener sticking out above some pens in a coffee mug a\nchild has painted with the word, `daddy.'\n BJURMAN\n If you're nice to me, I'll be nice to\n you. That's how normal people are.\n\nHe stands in front of her, his crotch at her eye level.\n BJURMAN\n You've done",".\n\nHe stands in front of her, his crotch at her eye level.\n BJURMAN\n You've done this before. You know\n what to do.\n (MORE)\n 49.\n 49.\n \n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\n (she doesn't do anything)\n Do you want this computer or not?\n\n He takes her hand and places it on the crotch of his\n trousers.\n ","the elevator without really looking at the\n figure already in it.\n\n BJURMAN\n Ground, please.\n A finger presses it. The doors close and the elevator\n starts down.\n\n SALANDER\n How's your sex life?\n\n Bjurman, terrified, backs into a corner. She presses a\n button and the elevator jerks to a stop between floors.\n\n SALANDER\n I didn't care much for your last\n report.\n ","he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\n\n SALANDER\n Wait.\n\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on a chair.\n Sits on the edge of the bed. He stands over her. She\n knows what she's supposed to do, but seems unable to.\n BJURMAN\n Is there a problem?\n\n SALANDER\n I just want to know, am I going to\n have to do this every time I need\n money to eat?\n BJURMAN\n It","her struggle. But she's not going anywhere.\n He tears open a condom package with his teeth.\n 55.\n 55.\n \n\n BJURMAN\n I forget - did I ask you before if\n you liked anal sex?\n\n He crams a pillow under her stomach and climbs on top\n of her. She keeps fighting but there's not much she can\n do handcuffed. Eventually, she retreats to another place\n inside herself. She's had to go","Salander. Bjurman seems a\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\n\n BJURMAN\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\n 66.\n 66.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I need more money. I need to pay my\n rent.\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\n\n BJURMAN\n Come on in.","6 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\n\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\n SALANDER\n Good. You're alive.\n\n It takes him a moment to realize it's true. Another to\n realize it might be better if he wasn't since he's naked\n on the floor, face-up, wrists and ankles bound. He tries\n to cry out and realizes he's also gagged.\n\n She emerges from the","out.\n He gets her in a strangle hold and chokes her into\n unconsciousness.\n100A INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT 100A\n\n She comes to, on her stomach, sees her wrists cuffed to\n the headboard posts, her ankles secured to the foot posts\n with silk ties, and scissors slicing her jeans off. She\n starts to scream and he stuffs her mouth with her\n underwear.\n BJUR","her little backpack over\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\n\n BJURMAN\n Come on in.\n\n She steps inside. He takes her hand and leads her\n toward the bedroom. Her other hand slips into her jacket\n pocket.\n\n BJURMAN\n Since we're still figuring out what\n you like, I went shopping for some\n new toys.\n\n SALANDER\n Me, too.\n\n BJURMAN\n ","me.\n\n The door buzzes. She pushes it open.\n99 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 99\n She moves along a hallway with both purpose and dread.\n Knocks on his door ... It opens, revealing him in a robe.\n BJURMAN\n Come on in.\n\n100 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS 100\n\n She takes in the layout quickly: living room","on my own.\n\n BJURMAN\n Are you sure?\n\n It's bizarre: his manner seems to be one of genuine\n concern. She nods. He hands her the check. Then opens\n the door for her like a perfect gentleman.\n\n BJURMAN\n So, next Saturday, here?\n 56.\n 56.\n \n\n She nods. Leaves. The door closes.\n\n102 EXT. STOCK","ner expertly builds a fire in the fireplace for\n him, Blomkvist works at unpacking the boxes - documents,\n fat police reports, notebooks, folders, photo albums.\n\n NILSSON\n You're an author.\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm writing a biography of Mr.\n Vanger, yes.\n\n Nilsson nods, but isn't sure he believes it. Maybe he\n took a look inside the boxes before he brought them down.\n NILSS","slicing her jeans off. She\n starts to scream and he stuffs her mouth with her\n underwear.\n BJURMAN\n Please. I have neighbors.\n\n He lights a couple candles. Switches on some New Age\n music.\n\n BJURMAN\n What we're going to do now is teach\n you the value of money.\n\n He watches her struggle. But she's not going anywhere.\n He tears open a condom package with his teeth.\n 55","want this computer or not?\n\n He takes her hand and places it on the crotch of his\n trousers.\n BJURMAN\n You feel that? That's gaberdine.\n Unzip them.\n (she does)\n And ...\n (she tugs at his underwear)\n And ...\n (she doesn't move; he smiles)\n I like the reticence. I prefer a\n whore who pretends she isn't. It's\n almost convincing.","\n\n BJURMAN\n Making coffee and sorting mail.\n\n SALANDER\n I shouldn't even have to ask. I\n should have control of my money like\n before.\n\n BJURMAN\n And you will. Once you show me you\n can be sociable and get along with\n people. Can you do that?\n (nothing from her)\n Shall we start with me?\n (pause)\n Shall we start now?\n\nAs he comes around the desk, she","She moves off. Her friends look after\n her confused. And then she's gone.\n Blomkvist backs up to the frame of Harriet looking off\n with fear in her eyes, and for the first time believes\n without a doubt what Vanger has believed for 40 years:\n\n She was murdered. Whoever she saw across the street\n followed her and killed her. The cat watches him.\n126 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\n\n Bjurman slowly comes to.","returns to the office, she finds him\n calmly writing a check.\n BJURMAN\n Here you go. As promised.\n\n He holds it out to her, but when she reaches for it,\n pulls it back a little.\n\n BJURMAN\n I know you're not thinking about\n telling anyone about our date. Enjoy\n your computer games.\n She takes the check and leaves.\n\n91 INT. SALANDER'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT 91\n"," BJURMAN\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\n (nothing from Salander)\n Terrible.\n\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\n through her file -\n BJURMAN\n What exactly do you do at this\n security company?\n\n SALANDER\n Make coffee and sort mail.\n\n BJURMAN\n But not full-time. Not even part"," that the world was created by the\n word of God - and that what is seen\n was not made of things that are\n visible ...\n\n He sets it down. Rubs his eyes. Everything - his\n daughter, his life, this cabin, the word of God - is\n depressing.\n101A INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - DAWN 101A\n Dawn light outside the living room window.\n\n Bjurman, at his dining table with a glass of orange\n juice, writing","Vanger?\n BLOMKVIST\n You're too young to know about that.\n PHOTO EDITOR\n Everyone here grows up knowing about\n her. It's how we're taught about\n strangers.\n\n121 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - STOCKHOLM - NIGHT 121\n\n The door opens revealing Salander. Bjurman seems a\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\n\n BJURMAN\n My"],["this.\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm not so sure.\n\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\n FRODE\n What do you mean?\n 76.\n 76.\n\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I may have found something.\n\n FRODE\n (pause)\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's","Then something, K, something, R, I,\n F, something, I -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Carpentry.\n (points below the letters)\n Is that a phone number?\n SALANDER\n Too small to read.\n\n He gets up. Heads for the front door to smoke his\n cigarette outside -\n\n BLOMKVIST (ADR)\n I'm going to have to go to Norsjo.\n\n He","VIST\n Because no photographer at any\n newspaper in the world takes just two\n photos of anything - especially after\n having to climb a flight of stairs.\n\n VANGER V/O\n The bridge accident happened during\n the parade. He rushed over.\n BLOMKVIST\n Maybe.\n\n Silence. Then -\n\n VANGER V/O\n Mikael, what have you found?\n 65.\n 65.\n \n\n B","\n\n SALANDER\n I know.\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\n list of names and initials he gave her -\n\n SALANDER\n The five cases from Harriet's\n list. And five more she missed -\n three I'm sure about.\n\n Five more? Blomkvist stares at her but she's turned back\n to her laptop, bringing up police reports and crime scene\n photos.\n SALANDER\n Rebecka","Henrik the\n Christmas before. I studied it more\n times than I can say. I know every\n page of it.\n BLOMKVIST\n It's the last page I'm curious about.\n MORELL\n As was I.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n The only names not alphabetized.\nMorell nods that he knows that only too well as he turns\nto that last page. On it, in neat handwriting:\nMagda 32016 Sara 3210","MKVIST\n We need to somehow figure out who\n they are, what happened to them, what\n the Leviticus verses have to do with\n (anything) -\n\n She gets up, goes to her desk, begins jotting something\n down, ignoring him.\n BLOMKVIST\n What are you doing?\n\n SALANDER\n Getting started. You can keep\n talking if you want.\n Blomkvist, slightly taken aback, picks up the",")\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's Blomkvist who studies Frode. He's not sure he\nwants to tell him. And even less so the longer he looks.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n The last time I reported something\n before I was sure of it, it cost me\n my savings.\n\nFrode studies him again - wondering perhaps if Blomkvist\nsuspects him.\n BLOMK","\n Getting started. You can keep\n talking if you want.\n Blomkvist, slightly taken aback, picks up the Leviticus\n Xerox from the floor.\n BLOMKVIST\n Would you like this?\n\n SALANDER\n Got it.\n\n That's what she's jotting down, from memory: the names,\n initials and Leviticus numbers. She wakes her laptop -\n\n141 EXT. THE BRIDGE - NIGHT"," 19.\n \n\nA page in the album turns to reveal a photo of a young\nman in a uniform with a Nazi pin.\n\n VANGER\n Isn't it interesting how fascists\n always steal the word freedom.\n (Blomkvist checks his watch)\n The 4:30. Yes. Okay. Anyway,\n Richard died a martyr to the Nazi\n cause in 1940 - missed all the real\n excitement - but not the opportunity\n to regularly beat his wife Margareta\n ","14.\n \n\n HARALD\n Two point eight.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Pardon me?\n HARALD\n The Zeiss Tessar on my Hasselblad.\n Excellent lens.\n\n Blomkvist tries to nod appreciatively, but the bridge\n photos don't tell him anything he doesn't already know.\n\n He finds several more that appear to be a hunting\n expedition - men and blood hounds - but then sees Morell\n",".\n\n BLOMKVIST\n The family.\n HARALD\n Sweden.\n\n Blomkvist opens another shoebox. Lying on top is a\n photograph of the bridge accident, and, under it, a few\n more. He takes them out and angles them toward a lamp.\n 114.\n 114.\n \n\n HARALD\n Two point eight.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n ","ple of lamps throw\n shadows on the walls which display hunting and military\n trophies - wild game heads, sabers and vintage firearms -\n some of Harald's dearer photographs - some photographs in\n dusty frames.\n\n Blomkvist, alone in the room, looks at them: Swedish\n Nazi leader in the 1930's.\n\n HARALD\n Sven Olof Lindholm.\n\n The 92-year-old comes into the room from the kitchen,\n followed","BLOMKVIST\n That's comforting. Are you hungry?\n Want a sandwich?\n\n SALANDER\n No.\n Busy setting up her laptop on his desk, starting it up,\n sitting down at it, she's all but ignoring him.\n BLOMKVIST\n I used to have a motorcycle. When I\n was 19.\n\n SALANDER\n I know.\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\n ",".\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What did he think about that?\n HARRIET\n Nothing. Only that he loved her.\n She said, If you love me, you'll do\n this and not ask why. He never did.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n They both died twenty years ago.\n\n HARRIET\n A car accident. You found that, too.\n\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\n pocket -","s turned back\n to her laptop, bringing up police reports and crime scene\n photos.\n SALANDER\n Rebecka was the first, like you\n thought ... M.H., is Mari Holmberg\n - a prostitute in Kalmar - murdered\n in 1954. Leviticus verse 20, line\n 18.\n 91.\n 91.\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\n\n BLOMK","IN\n How's the investigation?\n BLOMKVIST\n Nothing new to report.\n\n Blomkvist notices a drop of blood from his pantleg on\n the stone floor and covers it up with his shoe. Martin,\n not seeming to notice, finds a mini-Maglite in the\n drawer.\n\n MARTIN\n Dirch says Ms. Salander is clever.\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Maybe.\n","with purpose, goes into another room,\n returns with a photo album. Leafs past wedding photos,\n to honeymoon photos and stops on the only one she took\n of the parade. She hands the album to Blomkvist.\n\n The snapshot shows the float with the harem girls in\n foreground, and - in the background, across the street -\n several out of focus figures -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Would you mind if I made a copy of\n this?\n181 EXT"," MORELL O/S\n Of course I do, but what would it\n have to do with anything?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Nothing probably.\n\n As Blomkvist glances to the last page in Harriet's\n address book, to R.J. 30114 -\n\n MORELL O/S\n Jacobsson. Rebecka Jacobsson.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n How was she killed?\n MORELL O","half-away from the camera ...\n HARRIET\n I was 14 the first time he raped me.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Martin.\n 145.\n 145.\n \n\n HARRIET\n No, my father. He took this picture.\n Martin didn't start until he died.\n\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\n BLOMKV"," 80.\n 80.\n \n\n BLOMKVIST\n Your report on me was quite detailed\n but for me not very entertaining.\n\n A copy of it sits next to his plate.\n SALANDER\n It wasn't meant to be.\n BLOMKVIST\n When I write about people, I try to\n entertain the reader.\n\n SALANDER\n Wennerstrom wasn't entertained.\n "],["reveal a cluster of nine dusty framed dried flowers on a\n wall.\n 24.\n 24.\n \n\n VANGER\n These were from her.\n\n And, on another wall, forty similarly-framed flowers -\n VANGER\n These, from her killer.\n Blomkvist regards the forty ...\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Who knows about these?\n\n VANGER\n Me, the police, the murderer ...\n and now","to have a\n look at the problem she leaves: the victims list - now\n with \"Gottfried\" jotted down next to all but one name:\n 1967 - Lena Andersson - Uppsala\n\n Next to it, the newspaper article about the murdered\n girl, with a school photo. And, next to that, the reason\n there's no \"Gottfried\" notation: his obituary in a\n Hedestad Courier clipping: 1965.\n We listen to the fading echo of Sal"," Rebecka Jacobsson.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n How was she killed?\n MORELL O/S\n Decapitated. Arms cut off. Burned.\n\n Like the Leviticus dove. A siren. Ambulance coming\n past, headed for the bridge.\n\n MORELL O/S\n But this happened in the 1940's -\n BLOMKVIST\n Hang on a second.\n\n He","fills in the year field with - 1947-1966 - and\n continues to types quickly. When we see what that is,\n she's in the middle of typing this filters list -\n Homicide\n Female\n Rape\n Decapitation\n Dismemberment\n Fire\n Altar\n Priest\n Prostitute\n Unsolved\n Mari\n Magda\n Sara\n R.L.\n\n The search produces a screen showing matches to some of\n the filter words","one she\n made earlier where the nine women were murdered. Dots\n appear at the same locations on both.\n\n On a handwritten list of the victims, she puts a check\n next to Rebecka Jacobsson, 1949, Hedestad - moves on to\n Mari Holmberg, 1954, Kalmar - begins sifting through the\n mountain of Vanger Industries clippings from that year -\n 113.\n 113.\n \n\n206","- at me - for\n not being able to tell him what\n happened to her.\n (pause)\n He didn't kill her. And his father\n was dead the year before.\n (pause)\n What if she did somehow get away?\n Could she have done that? Could she\n have done it alone?\n He goes up to his wall of suspects.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Is she's alive, there's only one\n person in this","as he turns\nto that last page. On it, in neat handwriting:\nMagda 32016 Sara 32109 R.J. 30114 R.L. 32027 Mari 32018\n\n MORELL\n They're local Hedestad phone numbers.\n The first belonged to a woman named\n Margot, whose mother was Magda, who\n claimed she didn't know Harriet. The\n fourth, R.L., belonged to Rosemarie\n","this time. We moved on to a\n neighbor. Then a vagrant -\n\n He pulls a thick, yellowed folder out and sits with it\n and her at a table.\n DET. ISAKSSON\n Once you get to strangers, it's only\n a matter of time before you get to\n gypsies, and you know you're never\n going to solve it.\n And that troubles him still, that he never solved it.\n\n SALANDER\n How exactly was she killed?\n","She moves off. Her friends look after\n her confused. And then she's gone.\n Blomkvist backs up to the frame of Harriet looking off\n with fear in her eyes, and for the first time believes\n without a doubt what Vanger has believed for 40 years:\n\n She was murdered. Whoever she saw across the street\n followed her and killed her. The cat watches him.\n126 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\n\n Bjurman slowly comes to.","\n VANGER\n She was bright and curious, a\n winning combination in any person.\n BLOMKVIST\n And beautiful.\n Vanger nods as he regards the photo ...\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Something happened to her?\n\n Vanger nods again; is silent for several moments ...\n VANGER\n Someone in the family murdered\n Harriet and for the last forty years\n has been trying to drive me insane.\n33 OMIT:","already know.\n\n He finds several more that appear to be a hunting\n expedition - men and blood hounds - but then sees Morell\n in one, more policemen, and a stricken Henrik in boots\n and raincoat, and realizes this is the search party. Off\n to the side, a young man, head turned half away, wearing\n a dark blazer with a gold patch, which that 2.8 Zeiss\n lens makes clear is a prep school insignia. A lion.\n HARALD\n Land","lifts him\n onto his tiptoes.\n\n MARTIN\n What happened to her.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n You're choking me -\n MARTIN\n You found her?\n BLOMKVIST\n You killed her.\n\n Martin just stares at him confused. Then -\n\n MARTIN\n You useless fuckin detective.\n 132.\n 132.\n \n\nHe"," well. She left early. But they also\n said she kept secrets from them, too.\n The main thing I learned talking to\n them for hours is that teenage girls\n are complicated.\n BLOMKVIST\n I have one.\n\n MORELL\n So you know.\n (Blomkvist does indeed)\n Did you bring the last gift Henrik\n received?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's at the National Forensic Lab.\n\n MORELL\n"," MORELL O/S\n Of course I do, but what would it\n have to do with anything?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Nothing probably.\n\n As Blomkvist glances to the last page in Harriet's\n address book, to R.J. 30114 -\n\n MORELL O/S\n Jacobsson. Rebecka Jacobsson.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n How was she killed?\n MORELL O",", 1960. A runaway.\n Raped, strangled, a burnt pigeon\n tied around her neck. Lena\n Andersson, 1967, a student. Raped,\n stabbed, decapitated -\n BLOMKVIST\n Okay -\n\n SALANDER\n I'm not done -\n BLOMKVIST\n It's all right, we're looking for a\n serial murderer ... But what","you.\n\nThey hear a distant rifle crack and echo. It startles\nBlomkvist a bit, but not Vanger.\n\n VANGER\n Someone shooting their dinner.\n Gunner probably. The caretaker.\n BLOMKVIST\n I just met him.\n VANGER\n He was 19 when Harriet disappeared.\n\nOld enough, Blomkvist gathers, to be considered a\nsuspect. Vanger points off -\n VANGER\n He lives over there.",". He checks a scribbled floor plan of\n the manor and sees that it's Harriet's bedroom.\n\n But he's not sure if it's Harriet. The figure is too\n soft to identify - even with a magnifying glass - but is\n wearing a light-colored dress and has light hair.\n He glances to the family tree on the wall - the teenage\n Vanger girls' photos -\n\n Three INSERTS: Harriet ... Cecelia ... Anita ...\n\n They all have light hair, and","was killed that day, soon\n after seeing something across the\n street that frightened her.\n\n MILDRED\n How awful.\n 101.\n 101.\n \n\n Blomkvist nods; Mildred takes a closer look at the photo.\n\n MILDRED\n She does look terrified.\n Mildred gets up with purpose, goes into another room,\n returns with a photo album. Leafs past wedding photos,\n to honeymoon photos and","door. Hears classical music playing\n softly inside, but no one answers. She tries the door.\n It's unlocked. The gift in hand, she pushes it open.\n\n She comes into an apartment which looks like it could\n belong to a professor. Sees a chess piece on the floor.\n Then a trail of them that lead her to an overturned chess\n table and, next to it, a body.\n The gash on the old man's head could have been caused\n by a fall into the corner of the table,","'s pauses at a landing to steady himself and his\n labored breathing.\n\n VANGER\n No. Someone killed her, Mr.\n Blomkvist. Someone on the island\n that day. Someone close enough to\n know what she used to give me each\n year on my birthday.\n He unlocks the door of the attic and pushes it open to\n reveal a cluster of nine dusty framed dried flowers on a\n wall.\n 24.\n 24"],["\n Blomkvist knocks on the door. Anita pulls it open.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's me. Sorry to bother you.\n\n She doesn't invite him in, but doesn't shut the door in\n his face either.\n ANITA\n What do you want?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n No one's called you?\n\n ANITA\n About.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n ","\n\n ANITA\n I never saw it myself, but you could\n tell something was going on. One day\n she'd be withdrawn. The next she'd\n be putting on makeup and wearing the\n tightest sweater she had to school.\n The next she'd be studying a Bible\n like a nun - no Vanger was ever\n religious - can you imagine?\n Obviously, she was very unhappy.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n She never confided in you what about,\n specifically?\n ","she was very unhappy.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n She never confided in you what about,\n specifically?\n ANITA\n There was no specifically. It was\n everything. It was being part of\n that family. Henrik's the only\n decent person in it.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What do you think happened to her?\n\n ANITA\n Everyone knows what.\n BLOMKVIST\n But you have no ... thoughts about\n why, or","the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\nwas about 17 years old.\n\n CECILIA\n She knew Harriet better than anyone -\n certainly better than I did. You\n should talk to her.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'd love to, where is she.\n CECILIA\n If I had to guess - London.\n BLOMKVIST\n You don't know where your own sister\n lives?\n\n CECILIA\n ","one's called you?\n\n ANITA\n About.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Your cousin.\n\n She has two, but doesn't ask which -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Martin.\n\n ANITA\n What about him?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n He died last Thursday. A car\n accident. I'm sorry.\n (nothing from her)\n There's going to be",".\n\n ANITA\n What do you understand?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n That you don't really care for any of\n your relatives. Still, I thought you\n should know.\n\n ANITA\n Now I know.\n\n And now, she closes the door.\n 142.\n 142.\n \n\n244 OMIT: INT. ANITA'S HOUSE - LOND","That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\n\n SALANDER\n Okay, what.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I was just thinking, there could be\n one other possibility.\n\n248 OMIT: INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - NIGHT 248\n249 INT. INVESTMENT BANK - LONDON - DAY 249\n\n Blomkvist taps on Anita'","Thursday. A car\n accident. I'm sorry.\n (nothing from her)\n There's going to be a memorial in\n Hedestad. I know you haven't been\n back there in a long time, but -\n ANITA\n I'm not interested in any memorial.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I understand.\n\n ANITA\n What do you understand?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n That you don","The accent is all British. She's been here much longer\n than her home country. No trace of Swedish anymore. He\n offers his hand -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm Mikael.\n\n ANITA\n Mikael. How do you do.\n\n As he sits, she regards him a little more carefully ...\n\n ANITA\n You're looking for investment\n counseling, Mikael?\n BLOMKVIST\n I would if had any money to invest."," ANITA\nShe was messed up. Like all us\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\nfather. At least hers wasn't a Nazi\nlike mine.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nWas he abusive?\n\n ANITA\nMine?\n BLOMKVIST\nHers.\n 52.\n 52.\n \n\n ANITA\n I never saw it myself, but you could\n tell something was going on. One day\n she'","\npoliceman - when it happened.\n BLOMKVIST\nMorell.\n\n ANITA\nMy recollections then were a lot\nbetter than they are now.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nI'm not speaking of the crime itself.\nI'm trying to get a clearer sense of\nwhat Harriet was like. Particularly,\ntoward the end.\n\n ANITA\nShe was messed up. Like all us\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\nfather. At least hers","hung me\n from a hook ... Harriet.\n250 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 250\n They sit together on a park bench.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Anita married in Stockholm in 1967.\n It's recorded in the Swedish General\n Register. But the family never knew,\n did they.\n (she confirms that with a\n shake of her head)\n I'm guessing she then","car outside her father Harald's\n house. Drives down the road toward the bridge.\n ANITA\n Stay absolutely still.\n\n The blanket covering Harriet on the backseat floorboard\n moves slightly, then is still.\n A policeman on the island side of the bridge waves the\n car across it. As it heads along the mainland service\n road toward the highway -\n HARRIET V/O\n She saved me.\n\n258 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY","it really matter what her name\n is?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It would if I wanted to speak to her,\n which I do.\n ARMANSKY\n Against policy.\n BLOMKVIST\n You sure?\n\n ARMANSKY\n Just like your sources. You\n understand.\n BLOMKVIST\n Let me give you a name then.\n\n He jots \"Annika Giannini\" on one of Armansky's Post-I","\nI wouldn't know where to start, if\nthat was a question.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nI can narrow it. I've gotten up to\nthe 1960s. To the event that altered\neverything in Henrik's life.\n ANITA\nHarriet.\n (he nods)\nEverything I knew about that I told\nto - whatever his name was - that\npoliceman - when it happened.\n BLOMKVIST\nMorell.\n\n ANITA\nMy recollections","ANITA\n Everyone knows what.\n BLOMKVIST\n But you have no ... thoughts about\n why, or who.\n ANITA\n All I know is I always felt sorry\n for her. Even more than for myself.\n I got out of there when I was 18 and\n never went back. She would have done\n the same but didn't make it to 18.\n96 EXT. STOCKHOLM - DAY 96\n\n Salander, on","s.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Is she's alive, there's only one\n person in this family who would know\n where she is.\n\n He takes the photo of Anita down from the wall.\n\n239 INT. HOSPITAL - DAY 239\n Henrik sits in one of the chairs. Blomkvist in another.\n Salander prefers to stand. Eventually -\n VANGER\n Poor Martin.\n\n Clearly, he hasn","BLOMKVIST\n He was my age then, and so couldn't\n know what was really going on with a\n teenager any more than I can with my\n own daughter. You were her age.\n 46.\n 46.\n \n\n CECILIA\n Actually, my sister Anita was closer\n to her in age.\n\nINSERT of the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\nwas about 17 years old.\n\n CECILIA\n She","He tugs his shirt collar low enough to reveal the black\n and blue \"tattoo\" around his neck. Anita is taken aback\n by the sight. It's hard to imagine how anyone would end\n up with a mark like that.\n 144.\n 144.\n \n\n BLOMKVIST\n Before he died, your brother hung me\n from a hook ... Harriet.\n250 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY ","Behind her, Harriet packs a few items of clothing.\n\n ANITA\n Don't take anything.\n Harriet puts the clothes back. Picks up her purse.\n\n ANITA\n Leave that, too.\n\n256 INT. VANGER MANOR - NIGHT - 1966 256\n\n The dinner that night. Vanger noticing Harriet's empty\n chair. And Anita saying nothing, taking a bite of food.\n\n257 EXT"],["of the oar down, burying it in his head\n like an axe.\n\n He stares up her, uncomprehending. His fingers slide\n away from the dock. His body goes limp and sinks out of\n sight beneath the water.\n HARRIET V/O\n When it was finally over I looked\n up, and Martin was standing there -\n\n She sees her brother up by the cabin looking down at her.\n HARRIET V/O\n With a little smile.\n","The rain does nothing to dampen it. She could\n probably brave it to pull Martin out - but doesn't.\n As the flames burn his clothes, he manages to get his\n hands on the rifle he took from the den, turns its barrel\n to his bloody head - but before he can pull the trigger,\n she hurries over, yanks it from his grasp and stands back\n again. It's much more cathartic to watch him burn ...\n 135.\n 135.\n \n\n","for the kill, but she veers\n hard to one side, leaving him headed straight for the gas\n station Blomkvist makes his pay phone calls from - and\n the tanker truck parked there -\n\n Martin hits the brakes - hydroplanes into the truck - and\n its, or his own tank, or both, explode -\n Salander circles back. Regards the fire engulfing the\n car. The rain does nothing to dampen it. She could\n probably brave it to pull Martin out - but doesn't.\n As the flames burn","a roll of\ncellophane, pulls on the strap again until Blomkvist is\nbalancing on his tiptoes, and ties it off.\n\n MARTIN\n Too tight to talk?\nIt is. Blomkvist can utter no sound but a gag.\n\n MARTIN\n Good. I'm tired of talking to you.\n\nHe wraps Blomkvist's head in cellophane, completely\ncutting off his ability to breathe, and calmly watches\nhim struggle. ...\n MART","lifts him\n onto his tiptoes.\n\n MARTIN\n What happened to her.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n You're choking me -\n MARTIN\n You found her?\n BLOMKVIST\n You killed her.\n\n Martin just stares at him confused. Then -\n\n MARTIN\n You useless fuckin detective.\n 132.\n 132.\n \n\nHe",".\n \"Maybe if I say the right thing - if\n I'm polite - or I cry and beg - maybe\n I'll survive.\"\n (regards Blomkvist)\n And then the moment comes when they\n realize ... no, all hope is gone.\n (MORE)\n 130.\n 130.\n \n MARTIN (CONT'D)\n And when that happens - when I see\n the hope draining from their face\n like it","\n\n LIV\n I found him at death's door halfway\n up the hill.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm afraid I'm a bit out of shape.\n\n MARTIN\n No, it's a climb for anyone. I\n should've warned you. Come on in.\n\n Blomkvist puts a bottle of aquavit in Martin's hand.\n82 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 82\n\n The place is far","'s head in cellophane, completely\ncutting off his ability to breathe, and calmly watches\nhim struggle. ...\n MARTIN\n Would you like me to do something\n about that?\n\nBlomkvist desperately nods as he's about to suffocate.\nMartin watches another several moments ... then pokes a\nfinger through the cellophane into Blomkvist's gasping\nmouth.\n MARTIN\n See? I'm not a monster.\nHe frames a wide shot of his naked prey. Turns","school in Uppsala. And I\n thought maybe - maybe - the nightmare\n was over. Until that day.\n The float with the harem girls comes past, and we watch\n the smile on young Harriet's face change to fear as she\n notices something off to the left.\n HARRIET V/O\n There he was - across the street -\n looking at me with that same little\n smile on his face.\n\n A clear shot of young Martin in his Uppsala blazer","room, and down the hall to the study. She\n eases around the doorway - the room is empty - looks to\n the gun case - sees there are only two rifles there now.\n She hears an engine start outside. Hurries back through\n the house. Sees out the picture window the taillights of\n Martin's car receding fast down the road as clouds burst.\n\n She bangs out the front door. Runs halfway down the\n hill in the rain to where she left her motorcycle, jumps\n on and kick-starts","go hunting.\n\nMartin pulls open a bar drawer and takes from it a\nhandgun.\n\n MARTIN\n A gun. Rather than a knife.\n\nHe gives a little gesture with it to the handle of the\nknife protruding from a back pocket of Blomkvist's jeans.\nThere are fresh drops of blood on the floor next to his\nshoes.\n\n MARTIN\n You just couldn't stay away, could\n you.\n\nBlomkvist doesn't know what to say. Martin's","'t get a grip. Martin watches the struggle\ncalmly, and just as calmly offers:\n\n MARTIN\n It's time. I don't want to be late\n for my date with our girlfriend.\n 133.\n 133.\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\n\nHe puts on a plastic rain poncho. A painter's mask.\nPlastic goggles. Surgeons gloves. Picks up a hunting\nknife. Steps","omkvist who only witnessed part\nof the spectacle before losing consciousness -\n\nShe saws through the leather strap around his neck.\nUnlocks the chain. As he sinks to his knees on the\nfloor, blood rushes to his head, bringing him back to\nlife just enough to see what she can't behind her -\n\nMartin, blood streaming from the gash in his head,\ngetting to his feet. But he's not coming at them; he's\ntrying to get out -\n\nBlomkvist tries to say her name to get her"," You'd never think the fear of\n offending could be stronger than the\n fear of pain - but you know what? It\n is. They always come willingly.\n\nIt amazes him. It always amazes him. He keeps working.\n MARTIN\n And then they're here. They know\n it's over like you do - and still\n somehow think they have a chance.\n \"Maybe if I say the right thing - if\n I'm polite - or I cry and beg - maybe\n I'll","ael?\n (he manages a nod)\n We're going to the same place.\n Hop in.\n\n81 EXT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - EVENING 81\n\n Martin, wearing an apron, opens the door to find both his\n dinner guests on the porch.\n 41.\n 41.\n \n\n LIV\n I found him at death's door halfway\n up the hill.\n\n BLOMKV","poncho. A painter's mask.\nPlastic goggles. Surgeons gloves. Picks up a hunting\nknife. Steps up to Blomkvist. Looks at his eyes.\nBrings his own head close to his victim's -\n MARTIN\n Goodbye, Mikael.\nHe pulls the strap, lifting Blomkvist's toes off the\nfloor, closing off his air again ... and is about to gut\nhim like a wild boar ... when he hears a sound like some\nkind of animal behind him ...\n\nHe",".\n Another immigrant whore. Who misses\n them?\n\n He returns to his work bench to lay out various tools\n next to his gun and a desk phone.\n BLOMKVIST\n Your sister wasn't just another girl.\n Martin comes back quickly and yanks a strap that cinches\n the noose tighter around Blomkvist's neck as it lifts him\n onto his tiptoes.\n\n MARTIN\n What happened to her.\n\n BLO","he died.\n\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\n BLOMKVIST\n Why didn't you tell someone?\n HARRIET\n I did. My mother.\n\n Blomkvist stares. Finally -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Henrik would have done something.\n\n HARRIET\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\n told him. But I was afraid because"," company in the country. At the\n height, we had 40,000 employees. We\n have about half that now, and that\n downward slide - anyone can tell you -\n began after my sister's death. It\n broke Henrik's entrepreneurial\n spirit, and his heart.\n\nAnd Martin's, too, clearly. Blomkvist dares to ask, as\ninnocently as possible -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n You were here that day?\n\n MARTIN\n","passes a window, it\n lights up - and we again hit the ground with him.\n He hurries across the yard, trips over something in the\n dark - a sprinkler? - and goes down again into wet muck.\n\n He gets up and starts down the road as if returning from\n a leisurely evening walk - which would be more convincing\n without the limp - not daring to look back as he goes.\n 120.\n 120.\n \n\n MARTIN O"],[" We can talk about it now.\n (Blomkvist glances to Liv)\n Liv knows everything about my crazy\n family. Which is why she'll never\n marry me.\n\n LIV\n That's one reason.\n\nShe holds up her left hand. A wedding ring is on it.\nThe couple seems very comfortable with each other, not\nunlike Blomkvist and Erika.\n MARTIN\n Don't put that in your book.\n Anything else is fine. Harriet\n certainly. Everything changed","262\n\n Blomkvist and Salander sit out by the water, sharing\n the last cigarette in his pack. Her arm is draped over\n his shoulder, which strikes him as the most tender of\n gestures, coming from her.\n\n SALANDER\n Fuck these people ...\n BLOMKVIST\n Yeah ...\n SALANDER\n Harriet most of all.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Excuse me?\n\n SALANDER","t\n because Harriet is indeed dead.\n247 INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - LATER - NIGHT 247\n\n It's strange perhaps, but he does some of his best\n thinking during sex -\n BLOMKVIST\n I was just thinking. What if -\n\n SALANDER\n Ten more seconds.\n That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\n\n SALANDER\n Okay, what","HARRIET V/O\n She saved me.\n\n258 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 258\n Silence. Then she gestures to Blomkvist's neck.\n\n HARRIET\n How did you get away?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Someone saved me, too.\n 148.\n 148.\n \n\n He gestures off to the thin, strange girl sitting on","KVIST\n So can I.\n\n She takes the blanket from him and sits with it on the\n couch. He watches her a moment.\n 94.\n 94.\n \n\n BLOMKVIST\n Okay.\n (heads off to the bedroom)\n Good night.\n SALANDER\n Night.\n She switches off the lamp. Then, in a moment, in the\n dark -\n\n SALANDER\n Har","He nods. She nods.\n SALANDER\n What are you doing later?\n BLOMKVIST\n Seeing my daughter.\n\n SALANDER\n Okay.\n\n She nods. He nods.\n BLOMKVIST\n You look nice.\n SALANDER\n Thanks.\n\n He nods. She nods. Erika regards them from inside the\n conference room. Salander climbs back on her motor","he died.\n\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\n BLOMKVIST\n Why didn't you tell someone?\n HARRIET\n I did. My mother.\n\n Blomkvist stares. Finally -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Henrik would have done something.\n\n HARRIET\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\n told him. But I was afraid because","'s last chance at some\n kind of resolution. Put this to rest\n for him one way of the other, and\n I'll try to keep my mother away.\n But, please, do it as quickly as you\n can.\n BLOMKVIST\n I'll (try) -\n\nThey glance off to the sound of a motorcycle. It\nappears, roars up, parks. Salander climbs off it and\nshoulders a duffel bag. Blomkvist seems surprised to see\nher.\n\n ","That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\n\n SALANDER\n Okay, what.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I was just thinking, there could be\n one other possibility.\n\n248 OMIT: INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - NIGHT 248\n249 INT. INVESTMENT BANK - LONDON - DAY 249\n\n Blomkvist taps on Anita'","ansky values you so\n highly. Your work is very good.\n SALANDER\n It interests me.\n\n He takes a blanket from the back of a chair.\n BLOMKVIST\n I'll take the couch. You can have\n the bed.\n\n SALANDER\n I can sleep on a couch.\n BLOMKVIST\n So can I.\n\n She takes the blanket from him and sits with it on the\n couch. He watches her","Salander?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n She said yes.\n\n Isabella gets up to come over -\n BLOMVIST\n (to Frode)\n Can I see Henrik?\n\n FRODE\n He was asleep when I last looked in.\n We can check.\n 86.\n 86.\n\n\n ISABELLA\n No, you can't check. You can\n instruct him to pack his things and\n ",". Then -\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm pretty sure this isn't a good\n idea.\n SALANDER\n Why.\n\n He extracts his head from the cocoon and looks at her.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Apart from the fact that I'm old, we\n work together.\n SALANDER\n You work with what's-her-name.\n That's worked out for you.\n\n","BLOMKVIST\n That's comforting. Are you hungry?\n Want a sandwich?\n\n SALANDER\n No.\n Busy setting up her laptop on his desk, starting it up,\n sitting down at it, she's all but ignoring him.\n BLOMKVIST\n I used to have a motorcycle. When I\n was 19.\n\n SALANDER\n I know.\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\n "," 4.\n 4.\n \n\n ERIKA\n Where you been?\n\nErika Berger is about Blomkvist's age, and - like the\nIKEA furniture - sends a mixed message: a feminist in a\nmini-skirt.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Walking. Thinking.\n\n ERIKA\n Smoking?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Just one.\nHe sits, exhausted and depressed, in"," she's feeling as she turns onto Blomkvist's street.\n\n She parks. Gathers the garment bag and card, walks under\n construction scaffolding toward his apartment building.\n\n From around the corner ahead, Blomkvist and Erika appear.\n He says something and she laughs, puts her arm around his\n waist and lays her head against his neck scarf.\n\n Salander stops mid-stride, ducks into an alcove under the\n scaffolding, waits as long as it should take them to get\n","Finally they separate, but only to allow Blomkvist to\n unlock the door. Erika takes his hand then, and they\n disappear inside.\n 165.\n 165.\n\n\nSalander can't move. Waits for the pain to subside -\nwhich it eventually does - but only to be replaced with a\nsense of helplessness. Then that subsides, replaced with\na facade of insouciance.\n\nThe richest girl in Sweden emerges from the alcove and\n","does the\n girl know?\n\n Blomkvist isn't sure how to play that question ...\n MARTIN\n Let's hope it's as much as you.\n That'll make it more fun. Where is\n she?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Stockholm. She went there this\n morning.\n MARTIN\n And that's a lie. She's sitting in\n our offices looking at more old crap.\n Our archives manager called me - very\n perturbed","'s done.\n225 EXT. VANGER ARCHIVES BUILDING - NIGHT 225\n\n Crossing the empty parking lot, she tries Blomkvist on\n her cell. Gets his voice mail. Kick-starts her bike.\n226 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 226\n\n Martin \"leads\" Blomkvist from behind back to the kitchen,\n switching off lights as they go.\n\n MARTIN\n You know what","watching him. Is she actually there, or\n part of a dream? He looks at her a long moment, then\n tries out his voice -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n How is it someone who's 23 is a ward\n of the state?\n\n SALANDER\n I'm mentally incompetent and can't\n manage daily life.\n\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\n\n BLOMKV","ander and the girl from the club, asleep in bed,\n entwined like snakes.\n\n Salander wakes, disentangles herself, and is padding to\n the bathroom when there's a knock on her door.\n She stares it. No one ever knocks on her door. But\n someone knocks on it again. She crosses to it, wrapping\n herself in a blanket.\n\n SALANDER\n Who is it?\n BLOMKVIST O/S\n Mikael Blomkv"],["?\n (no indication that he can)\n I miss our meetings.\n (pause)\n I'm sure you don't. Why would you?\n I was always such a headache for you.\n Never showing up with good news.\n Only problems.\n (pause)\n I have some good news now. I've made\n a friend. I mean one that you'd\n approve of.\n (pause)\n I'm happy.\n\n One of Palmgren's hands manages","\n approve of.\n (pause)\n I'm happy.\n\n One of Palmgren's hands manages to pull slightly away\n from the other, tries to reach for her, perhaps, but only\n makes it about an inch. She reaches over and holds it.\n\n295 EXT. SPAIN - DAY 295\n A reporter bundled-up outside a low-rent building\n cordoned off with police tape -\n\n REPORTER\n Behind the walls of this dingy","iting social welfare building.\n\n79 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - DAY 79\n\n As a man behind a desk reviews a thick file, Salander\n reviews him: About 50; spends money on suits, thinking\n that might disguise his public servant status; no wedding\n ring; typical creep, as far as she's concerned.\n\n BJURMAN\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\n "," Sven Olof Lindholm.\n\n The 92-year-old comes into the room from the kitchen,\n followed by a housekeeper with a tea tray. Indicates the\n younger man in the photo, also in a Nazi uniform, that\n Blomkvist is looking at.\n HARALD\n Me.\n\n Blomkvist nods. Has no idea what to say. But Harald\n waits for more of a response. Finally -\n BLOMKVIST\n "," BJURMAN\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\n (nothing from Salander)\n Terrible.\n\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\n through her file -\n BJURMAN\n What exactly do you do at this\n security company?\n\n SALANDER\n Make coffee and sort mail.\n\n BJURMAN\n But not full-time. Not even part","talk to her.\n SALANDER\n Please.\n21 INT. ICU - SODER HOSPITAL - LATER - NIGHT 21\n Not allowed to go inside, she peers through glass at\n Palmgren, who is unaware of her, or the nurse attending\n him, or even himself. A spiderweb of tubes emerge from\n his neck and wrists; oxygen tubes from his nostrils.\n\n DOCTOR V/O\n He's had severe cerebral\n","to say. But Harald\n waits for more of a response. Finally -\n BLOMKVIST\n Handsome.\n\n HARALD\n (taps another)\n Birger Furugard. Me.\n (and another)\n Per Engdahl.\n (and another)\n Me.\n\n Blomkvist's eyes shift to a bolt-action Mauser infantry\n rifle displayed on a shelf ...\n\n HARALD\n ","ple of lamps throw\n shadows on the walls which display hunting and military\n trophies - wild game heads, sabers and vintage firearms -\n some of Harald's dearer photographs - some photographs in\n dusty frames.\n\n Blomkvist, alone in the room, looks at them: Swedish\n Nazi leader in the 1930's.\n\n HARALD\n Sven Olof Lindholm.\n\n The 92-year-old comes into the room from the kitchen,\n followed","isn't sure what Blomkvist means.\nThen he is, and is pleased by it.\n 33.\n 33.\n \n\n VANGER\n Yes, you're right. The man who\n hires the detective should always be\n kept on the suspects list.\n66A OMIT - INT. COTTAGE - DAY 66A\n\n\n67 INT. PALMGREN'S APARTMENT - DAY ","on it. Peels it off. Dials a call on her\n cell. Hangs up when it goes to voice mail.\n\nA18 EXT. PALMGREN'S APARTMENT - ESTABLISHING A18\n18 INT. PALMGREN'S APARTMENT - STOCKHOLM - DAY 18\n\n She knocks on a door. Hears classical music playing\n softly inside, but no one answers. She tries the door.\n It's unlocked. The gift","MAN\n Do you think that ring in your eyelid\n makes you attractive?\n\nSalander, who's had to suffer insufferable officials all\nher life, doesn't dignify the question with an answer.\n BJURMAN\n Here's the problem. There a\n discrepancy between the obligation of\n Mr. Palmgren's guardianship and the\n management of your finances.\n\n SALANDER\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\n It was clear to him I","the first time since we've met her, she looks vulnerable.\n The doors swing open. A doctor steps out. Salander gets\n up to hear his report -\n\n DOCTOR\n You're Mr. Palmgren's daughter?\n SALANDER\n His ward. He doesn't have a\n daughter.\n\n The doctor isn't sure then if he should talk to her.\n SALANDER\n Please.\n21 INT. ICU - SODER HOSPITAL","in Goteborg.\n When it was sold, I went with it.\n MARTIN\n A dark day.\n\n LIV\n I live in Hong Kong now, but come\n back to Stockholm for family events,\n and when I do, I drive up to spend a\n couple days with Martin.\n MARTIN\n She comes for the moose steak.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Is that what this is?\n\n They all glance away to a sound: A soft, strange,\n ","biography.\n LIV\n I love Henrik. He's fascinating.\n Martin, too. Together they're the\n Old Sweden and the New.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n They are.\n LIV\n You know about Harriet, right?\n\nBlomkvist doesn't say. The sound of the wind stops.\n LIV\n You don't?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I do.\n\nMartin emerges from the cellar with a bottle","Henrik the\n Christmas before. I studied it more\n times than I can say. I know every\n page of it.\n BLOMKVIST\n It's the last page I'm curious about.\n MORELL\n As was I.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n The only names not alphabetized.\nMorell nods that he knows that only too well as he turns\nto that last page. On it, in neat handwriting:\nMagda 32016 Sara 3210","i\n Holmberg and the 1954 Vanger files.\n\n210 INT. COTTAGE - EVENING 210\n Blomkvist flips through one of Morell's reports stating\n everyone's whereabouts on the day Harriet's disappeared.\n\n INSERT: Across from Martin Vanger's name it reads:\n \"Arrived on 4:30 train.\"\n\n He brings up the Photoshop-enhanced Brannlund parade\n photo on","school in Uppsala. And I\n thought maybe - maybe - the nightmare\n was over. Until that day.\n The float with the harem girls comes past, and we watch\n the smile on young Harriet's face change to fear as she\n notices something off to the left.\n HARRIET V/O\n There he was - across the street -\n looking at me with that same little\n smile on his face.\n\n A clear shot of young Martin in his Uppsala blazer","to have a\n look at the problem she leaves: the victims list - now\n with \"Gottfried\" jotted down next to all but one name:\n 1967 - Lena Andersson - Uppsala\n\n Next to it, the newspaper article about the murdered\n girl, with a school photo. And, next to that, the reason\n there's no \"Gottfried\" notation: his obituary in a\n Hedestad Courier clipping: 1965.\n We listen to the fading echo of Sal"," Indeed he was.\n\n Vanger's look to Blomkvist adds, `so consider him a\n suspect.' He indicates another house on the grounds -\n VANGER\n That's his daughter Cecilia's house.\n They don't speak.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Does anyone speak to anyone on this\n island?\n\n VANGER\n Actually, Isabella - Harriet's mother\n - who lives there -\n (points)\n - she speaks to Harald","sorry. I'm about to sit down to\n Christmas dinner myself.\n BLOMKVIST\n That's not what I mean.\n\n FRODE O/S\n You're referring to your recent\n legal trouble. That has provided Mr.\n Vanger with some entertainment.\n BLOMKVIST\n Excuse me?\n\n FRODE O/S\n He doesn't care for Wennerstrom\n either.\n\n Frode"],["SALANDER\n I've been on my own since I was\n twelve.\n BJURMAN\n No. You've been a persistent burden\n to the State since you were twelve.\n\n She won't look at him any more - not that there's\n anything even remotely interesting to see if she did.\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\n Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\n Because this is important.\n She does ... in a way that says, I","watching him. Is she actually there, or\n part of a dream? He looks at her a long moment, then\n tries out his voice -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n How is it someone who's 23 is a ward\n of the state?\n\n SALANDER\n I'm mentally incompetent and can't\n manage daily life.\n\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\n\n BLOMKV","MAN\n Do you think that ring in your eyelid\n makes you attractive?\n\nSalander, who's had to suffer insufferable officials all\nher life, doesn't dignify the question with an answer.\n BJURMAN\n Here's the problem. There a\n discrepancy between the obligation of\n Mr. Palmgren's guardianship and the\n management of your finances.\n\n SALANDER\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\n It was clear to him I","ances.\n\n SALANDER\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\n It was clear to him I could manage my\n own finances.\n BJURMAN\n But that's not clear to me.\n SALANDER\n I'm not a child.\n\n BJURMAN\n No. You're not.\n (looks at her too long)\n But you were. And between then and\n now -\n (indicating the files)\n","- DAY 66A\n\n\n67 INT. PALMGREN'S APARTMENT - DAY 67\n\n A nurse takes a tray away, leaving Salander alone with\n Palmgren, separated by the chess table they won't playing\n a game on. She wipes his mouth with her sleeve.\n\n SALANDER\n I got a call from social welfare.\n I've been assigned a new guardian.\n\n It's unlikely he understands what she has said."," Silence. Armansky tries not to look sick. Then -\n 78.\n 78.\n \n\n ARMANSKY\n The reason you can find no record of\n her is because her records have been\n sealed. She's a ward of the State.\n BLOMKVIST\n What does that have to do with\n anything.\n ARMANSKY\n She's had a rough life. Can we not\n ",". Leave\n the keys with the guard.\n\n The woman leaves. Her footsteps echo and fade. Salander\n reads a yellowed clipping from a Landskrona newspaper:\n 116.\n 116.\n \n\n It's about Vanger Industries hiring a local contractor,\n Carlen Construction, to build a plant. Gottfried Vanger -\n here to sign the contract.\n\n But all that really interests Salander is the date. The\n article was published one day"," BJURMAN\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\n (nothing from Salander)\n Terrible.\n\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\n through her file -\n BJURMAN\n What exactly do you do at this\n security company?\n\n SALANDER\n Make coffee and sort mail.\n\n BJURMAN\n But not full-time. Not even part",".\n And that troubles him still, that he never solved it.\n\n SALANDER\n How exactly was she killed?\n\n DET. ISAKSSON\n Miss - I'm sorry -\n\n SALANDER\n Salander.\n DET. ISAKSSON\n Miss Salander, if you don't mind my\n asking, when's the last time you ate?\n 85.\n 85.\n \n\n SALAND","a\n fool did he make of himself\n financially?\n\n SALANDER\n The judgement will just about empty\n his savings.\nThis seems to please Frode more than anything else that\nhas been said, and Salander sees it.\n SALANDER\n May I go?\n\n FRODE\n Your report is light in another\n area. His personal life. Anything\n you chose not to include?\n SALANDER\n Nothing that warranted inclusion.\n\n FRODE\n ","\n\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Since when have they said that.\n SALANDER\n Since I was twelve.\n BLOMKVIST\n Something happened when you were\n twelve?\n\n She doesn't say. Just studies him ...\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's all right, you don't have to\n tell me anything","was stupid. I got something from\n an anonymous source, who I'm sure now\n worked for him. It was fake. Which\n he easily proved in court.\n Not a good day, that. Then -\n SALANDER\n You were emphatic that the way I\n looked into your life was illegal and\n immoral. Would you feel the same\n about Wennerstrom?\n\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\n SALANDER\n I","Salander. Bjurman seems a\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\n\n BJURMAN\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\n 66.\n 66.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I need more money. I need to pay my\n rent.\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\n\n BJURMAN\n Come on in."," Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\n Because this is important.\n She does ... in a way that says, I'd like to kill you.\n\n BJURMAN\n This behavior you're displaying\n right now is elaborately documented\n here -\n (in the file)\n - so it would come as a shock to no\n one if I chose an alternative to the\n lenient arrangement I just outlined.\n Is that what you're saying with your\n ","SALANDER\n I will kill you.\nAnd he knows she means it.\n\n SALANDER\n Do you doubt anything I've said?\n (he shakes his head no)\n Do you doubt what's in the reports\n about me? What do they say when\n you sum them up? They say I'm\n insane.\n (he shakes his head no)\n No, it okay. You can nod because\n it's true. I am insane.\n\nShe gets up off him, rummages",".\n SALANDER\n She was raped and stabbed, but the\n cause of death was suffocation with a\n sanitary napkin. R.L. Rakel Lunde,\n 1957 -\nSalander brings up more crime photos -\n\n SALANDER\n Cleaning woman and part-time palm\n reader, tied up with a clothesline,\n gagged, raped, head crushed with a\n rock. Leviticus 20:27.\n\n BLOMKV","\n you chose not to include?\n SALANDER\n Nothing that warranted inclusion.\n\n FRODE\n I'm not sure if that means yes or no.\n\n ARMANSKY\n I think what Ms. Salander means, and\n I agree, is that everyone has a right\n to a certain amount of privacy, even\n when they're being investigated.\n\n FRODE\n Not in this case. I have to know\n if there's anything about him I might\n find unsav","ander\n brought from Martin's chamber of horrors late last night:\n\n A scrapbook of murder. A death book. Photos of women\n cowering in his cage, tied to the bed, dead on the table -\n along with souvenirs of painted fingernails and locks of\n hair - all carefully taped into the `album.' The older\n photographs are Polaroids; the newer ones digital prints.\n With little to no discernible emotion, Salander watches\n Frode wince as he turns the pages.\n\n Frode can","the first time since we've met her, she looks vulnerable.\n The doors swing open. A doctor steps out. Salander gets\n up to hear his report -\n\n DOCTOR\n You're Mr. Palmgren's daughter?\n SALANDER\n His ward. He doesn't have a\n daughter.\n\n The doctor isn't sure then if he should talk to her.\n SALANDER\n Please.\n21 INT. ICU - SODER HOSPITAL","-\n SALANDER\n (again on his last word)\n Lea Persson, 1962 -\n\n A photo of a pretty girl in riding jodhpurs, petting a\n horse, and several more of her dead naked body on a wet\n cement floor surrounded by tropical fish.\n\n SALANDER\n Found by her sister in their pet\n shop - raped, beaten. The killer\n uncaged the animals, smashed the\n aquariums. There was a parake"],["\n VANGER\n She was bright and curious, a\n winning combination in any person.\n BLOMKVIST\n And beautiful.\n Vanger nods as he regards the photo ...\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Something happened to her?\n\n Vanger nods again; is silent for several moments ...\n VANGER\n Someone in the family murdered\n Harriet and for the last forty years\n has been trying to drive me insane.\n33 OMIT:","an investment in\n the magazine.\n BLOMKVIST\n I gather. Why would you want to do\n that?\n\n MARTIN\n Not for the return, that's for sure.\n\n VANGER\n (to Erika)\n I feel bad that I've take Mikael\n away from you at the worst possible\n time. This is the right thing to do.\n The moral thing. That's one reason.\n\n ERIKA\n And.\n ","KVIST\n Harriet?\n\n SALANDER\n I think so.\n\n Blomkvist can't look at the photos long. Sets them\n down. Something's troubling him -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Martin didn't deny killing anyone.\n But when I mentioned Harriet, he was\n confused. He was angry - at me - for\n not being able to tell him what\n happened to her.\n (pause)\n He",".\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What did he think about that?\n HARRIET\n Nothing. Only that he loved her.\n She said, If you love me, you'll do\n this and not ask why. He never did.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n They both died twenty years ago.\n\n HARRIET\n A car accident. You found that, too.\n\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\n pocket -","he died.\n\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\n BLOMKVIST\n Why didn't you tell someone?\n HARRIET\n I did. My mother.\n\n Blomkvist stares. Finally -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Henrik would have done something.\n\n HARRIET\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\n told him. But I was afraid because","to do is\n a waste of money.\n VANGER\n We haven't discussed your fee.\n BLOMKVIST\n We don't need to. I can't find\n something you haven't been able to\n in forty years.\n\n VANGER\n You don't know that. You have a\n very keen investigative mind.\n\n Blomkvist wonders why he ever agreed to come here as\n Vanger refills his wine glass.\n VANGER\n Here",".\n\n VANGER\n - studying their reports and\n interviews, all the information there\n was, and it's a lot. I've spent half\n my life examining the events of a\n single day.\n And for all that, he's no closer to the truth.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I understand your frustration.\n But what you're asking me to do is\n a waste of money.\n VANGER\n We haven't discussed your fee.\n BLOM"," BLOMKVIST\n It's all right, we're looking for a\n serial murderer ... But what does it\n have to do with a 16-year-old girl\n on an island?\n\n Salander, as we know, is not paid to give her opinion.\n She's a hunter/gatherer, not an analyst. But Blomkvist\n asked, so she gives it -\n\n SALANDER\n She was looking for him, too.\n\n16","\n CECILIA\n Unlike the one that landed you in\n court.\n BLOMKVIST\n Unlike that one. Correct.\n CECILIA\n So, what you're saying is, you're\n not really here to look into what\n happened to Harriet.\n\nSilence. Then -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I can't ignore such a dramatic event,\n but no, that's not by any means my\n focus.\n CECIL","\npoliceman - when it happened.\n BLOMKVIST\nMorell.\n\n ANITA\nMy recollections then were a lot\nbetter than they are now.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nI'm not speaking of the crime itself.\nI'm trying to get a clearer sense of\nwhat Harriet was like. Particularly,\ntoward the end.\n\n ANITA\nShe was messed up. Like all us\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\nfather. At least hers","Harriet most of all.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Excuse me?\n\n SALANDER\n If she'd done anything but run,\n Martin wouldn't have been able to\n kill all those women.\n BLOMKVIST\n She had no idea he was doing it.\n\n SALANDER\n She should have killed her father and\n him.\n BLOMKVIST\n That's what you would've done","MKVIST\n You want me to set aside my life\n and career for something that's a\n complete waste of time.\n\n VANGER\n Think of it as a well deserved\n vacation. A way of avoiding all the\n people you want to avoid right now.\n (nothing from Blomkvist)\n As for compensation, I'll pay you\n twice your salary for as many months\n as it takes. I'll quadruple it if\n you solve the mystery.\n 26.","ANGER\n I'm not obsessed with the declining\n health of the company, but I am with\n the settling of accounts - and the\n clock is ticking. I need your help.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Doing.\n\n VANGER\n Officially, assisting me with my\n memoirs. But what you'd really be\n doing is solving a mystery. And\n you'd do that by doing what you do so\n well - this recent legal mishap of\n yours","t\n because Harriet is indeed dead.\n247 INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - LATER - NIGHT 247\n\n It's strange perhaps, but he does some of his best\n thinking during sex -\n BLOMKVIST\n I was just thinking. What if -\n\n SALANDER\n Ten more seconds.\n That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\n\n SALANDER\n Okay, what","this.\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm not so sure.\n\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\n FRODE\n What do you mean?\n 76.\n 76.\n\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I may have found something.\n\n FRODE\n (pause)\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's","you\n want to do is fine. Everybody needs\n something.\n\n PERNILLA\n Just so long as it's not God.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I didn't say that.\n\n As they eat in silence, Blomkvist can't help but think\n about Harriet and what Vanger said about not giving her\n his attention when she needed it.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm not around enough to know\n everything that's going on with you,","She moves off. Her friends look after\n her confused. And then she's gone.\n Blomkvist backs up to the frame of Harriet looking off\n with fear in her eyes, and for the first time believes\n without a doubt what Vanger has believed for 40 years:\n\n She was murdered. Whoever she saw across the street\n followed her and killed her. The cat watches him.\n126 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\n\n Bjurman slowly comes to."," The island is owned by my family.\n Your closest neighbor is my brother\n Harald, another Nazi if you can\n believe. Two in the family. He's\n detestable to put it nicely, but\n you'll probably never see him. He's\n a recluse.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n He was there that day?\n\n VANGER\n Indeed he was.\n\n Vanger's look to Blomkvist adds, `so consider him a\n suspect.' He indicates another",")\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's Blomkvist who studies Frode. He's not sure he\nwants to tell him. And even less so the longer he looks.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n The last time I reported something\n before I was sure of it, it cost me\n my savings.\n\nFrode studies him again - wondering perhaps if Blomkvist\nsuspects him.\n BLOMK",". Which\n I'd very much like to see if by some\n miracle you still have them.\n MILDRED\n It wouldn't be a miracle. We were on\n our honeymoon. But why?\n\n Blomkvist thinks about making something up. Decides not\n to. Indicates Harriet in the photo -\n BLOMKVIST\n This girl was killed that day, soon\n after seeing something across the\n street that frightened her.\n\n MILDRED\n How awful."],["- DAY 66A\n\n\n67 INT. PALMGREN'S APARTMENT - DAY 67\n\n A nurse takes a tray away, leaving Salander alone with\n Palmgren, separated by the chess table they won't playing\n a game on. She wipes his mouth with her sleeve.\n\n SALANDER\n I got a call from social welfare.\n I've been assigned a new guardian.\n\n It's unlikely he understands what she has said.",". Leave\n the keys with the guard.\n\n The woman leaves. Her footsteps echo and fade. Salander\n reads a yellowed clipping from a Landskrona newspaper:\n 116.\n 116.\n \n\n It's about Vanger Industries hiring a local contractor,\n Carlen Construction, to build a plant. Gottfried Vanger -\n here to sign the contract.\n\n But all that really interests Salander is the date. The\n article was published one day","MAN\n Do you think that ring in your eyelid\n makes you attractive?\n\nSalander, who's had to suffer insufferable officials all\nher life, doesn't dignify the question with an answer.\n BJURMAN\n Here's the problem. There a\n discrepancy between the obligation of\n Mr. Palmgren's guardianship and the\n management of your finances.\n\n SALANDER\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\n It was clear to him I","SALANDER\n I've been on my own since I was\n twelve.\n BJURMAN\n No. You've been a persistent burden\n to the State since you were twelve.\n\n She won't look at him any more - not that there's\n anything even remotely interesting to see if she did.\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\n Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\n Because this is important.\n She does ... in a way that says, I","watching him. Is she actually there, or\n part of a dream? He looks at her a long moment, then\n tries out his voice -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n How is it someone who's 23 is a ward\n of the state?\n\n SALANDER\n I'm mentally incompetent and can't\n manage daily life.\n\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\n\n BLOMKV","call from social welfare.\n I've been assigned a new guardian.\n\n It's unlikely he understands what she has said. It's\n unlikely he even knows she's there.\n\n68 INT. COTTAGE - NIGHT 68\n Tacked to a wall, a map of the island on which Blomkvist\n has written the names of the living Vanger family members\n and staff in the approximate locations of their houses.\n Next to it - 3x5 cards and photos - a Vanger family","262\n\n Blomkvist and Salander sit out by the water, sharing\n the last cigarette in his pack. Her arm is draped over\n his shoulder, which strikes him as the most tender of\n gestures, coming from her.\n\n SALANDER\n Fuck these people ...\n BLOMKVIST\n Yeah ...\n SALANDER\n Harriet most of all.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Excuse me?\n\n SALANDER","Salander. Bjurman seems a\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\n\n BJURMAN\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\n 66.\n 66.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I need more money. I need to pay my\n rent.\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\n\n BJURMAN\n Come on in.",".\n\n88 INT. OFFICE BUILDING - STOCKHOLM - NIGHT 88\n\n Salander comes past a janitor waxing a long, otherwise\n empty corridor. At the far end, she opens her new\n guardian's office door.\n\n89 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - NIGHT 89\n As Bjurman reviews a McJesus invoice, Salander waits.\n The thick atmosphere reminds her of all the others she\n has sat in with","a\n fool did he make of himself\n financially?\n\n SALANDER\n The judgement will just about empty\n his savings.\nThis seems to please Frode more than anything else that\nhas been said, and Salander sees it.\n SALANDER\n May I go?\n\n FRODE\n Your report is light in another\n area. His personal life. Anything\n you chose not to include?\n SALANDER\n Nothing that warranted inclusion.\n\n FRODE\n ","the first time since we've met her, she looks vulnerable.\n The doors swing open. A doctor steps out. Salander gets\n up to hear his report -\n\n DOCTOR\n You're Mr. Palmgren's daughter?\n SALANDER\n His ward. He doesn't have a\n daughter.\n\n The doctor isn't sure then if he should talk to her.\n SALANDER\n Please.\n21 INT. ICU - SODER HOSPITAL","He nods. She nods.\n SALANDER\n What are you doing later?\n BLOMKVIST\n Seeing my daughter.\n\n SALANDER\n Okay.\n\n She nods. He nods.\n BLOMKVIST\n You look nice.\n SALANDER\n Thanks.\n\n He nods. She nods. Erika regards them from inside the\n conference room. Salander climbs back on her motor","Salander leafs through the article as\nBlomkvist brushes his teeth in the bathroom.\n\n\n\n\n BLOMKVIST\n He'll call it a personal vendetta\n but it won't work. FI can't ignore\n banking and securities fraud like\n this. The police can't ignore the\n organized crime stuff. They'll both\n have to investigate.\n\n SALANDER\n Then.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n We'll be back in court, but this","s.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Is she's alive, there's only one\n person in this family who would know\n where she is.\n\n He takes the photo of Anita down from the wall.\n\n239 INT. HOSPITAL - DAY 239\n Henrik sits in one of the chairs. Blomkvist in another.\n Salander prefers to stand. Eventually -\n VANGER\n Poor Martin.\n\n Clearly, he hasn","was stupid. I got something from\n an anonymous source, who I'm sure now\n worked for him. It was fake. Which\n he easily proved in court.\n Not a good day, that. Then -\n SALANDER\n You were emphatic that the way I\n looked into your life was illegal and\n immoral. Would you feel the same\n about Wennerstrom?\n\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\n SALANDER\n I","de takes Blomkvist aside.\n\n FRODE\n He needs surgery and there's no DNR.\n So it's up to the family to decide to\n resuscitate or not, and they're not\n good at decisions.\n\n He glances over to them. Isabella's staring back.\n\n FRODE\n How'd it go with Ms. Salander?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n She said yes.\n\n Isabella gets up to come over -","ances.\n\n SALANDER\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\n It was clear to him I could manage my\n own finances.\n BJURMAN\n But that's not clear to me.\n SALANDER\n I'm not a child.\n\n BJURMAN\n No. You're not.\n (looks at her too long)\n But you were. And between then and\n now -\n (indicating the files)\n","Salander?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n She said yes.\n\n Isabella gets up to come over -\n BLOMVIST\n (to Frode)\n Can I see Henrik?\n\n FRODE\n He was asleep when I last looked in.\n We can check.\n 86.\n 86.\n\n\n ISABELLA\n No, you can't check. You can\n instruct him to pack his things and\n ",". Salander climbs off it and\nshoulders a duffel bag. Blomkvist seems surprised to see\nher.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Lisbeth, this is Martin Vanger.\n\n MARTIN\n How do you do.\n SALANDER\n Fine.\nShe comes past them without another word. Martin can't\nhelp noticing her wasp and handcuff tattoos. Looks after\nher as she disappears into the cottage. It's hard to\nbelieve, but he has to ask","'s last chance at some\n kind of resolution. Put this to rest\n for him one way of the other, and\n I'll try to keep my mother away.\n But, please, do it as quickly as you\n can.\n BLOMKVIST\n I'll (try) -\n\nThey glance off to the sound of a motorcycle. It\nappears, roars up, parks. Salander climbs off it and\nshoulders a duffel bag. Blomkvist seems surprised to see\nher.\n\n "],["he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\n\n SALANDER\n Wait.\n\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on a chair.\n Sits on the edge of the bed. He stands over her. She\n knows what she's supposed to do, but seems unable to.\n BJURMAN\n Is there a problem?\n\n SALANDER\n I just want to know, am I going to\n have to do this every time I need\n money to eat?\n BJURMAN\n It","the elevator without really looking at the\n figure already in it.\n\n BJURMAN\n Ground, please.\n A finger presses it. The doors close and the elevator\n starts down.\n\n SALANDER\n How's your sex life?\n\n Bjurman, terrified, backs into a corner. She presses a\n button and the elevator jerks to a stop between floors.\n\n SALANDER\n I didn't care much for your last\n report.\n ","6 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\n\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\n SALANDER\n Good. You're alive.\n\n It takes him a moment to realize it's true. Another to\n realize it might be better if he wasn't since he's naked\n on the floor, face-up, wrists and ankles bound. He tries\n to cry out and realizes he's also gagged.\n\n She emerges from the","Salander. Bjurman seems a\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\n\n BJURMAN\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\n 66.\n 66.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I need more money. I need to pay my\n rent.\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\n\n BJURMAN\n Come on in.",".\n\nHe stands in front of her, his crotch at her eye level.\n BJURMAN\n You've done this before. You know\n what to do.\n (MORE)\n 49.\n 49.\n \n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\n (she doesn't do anything)\n Do you want this computer or not?\n\n He takes her hand and places it on the crotch of his\n trousers.\n "," BJURMAN\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\n (nothing from Salander)\n Terrible.\n\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\n through her file -\n BJURMAN\n What exactly do you do at this\n security company?\n\n SALANDER\n Make coffee and sort mail.\n\n BJURMAN\n But not full-time. Not even part","her struggle. But she's not going anywhere.\n He tears open a condom package with his teeth.\n 55.\n 55.\n \n\n BJURMAN\n I forget - did I ask you before if\n you liked anal sex?\n\n He crams a pillow under her stomach and climbs on top\n of her. She keeps fighting but there's not much she can\n do handcuffed. Eventually, she retreats to another place\n inside herself. She's had to go"," 54.\n 54.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I just want my money.\n\n BJURMAN\n Well, let's see if I can help you out\n with that.\n\n He walks to the hallway. She doesn't. He holds out\n his hand. She finally joins him. As they step into the\n bedroom, he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\n\n SALANDER\n Wait.\n\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on","her little backpack over\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\n\n BJURMAN\n Come on in.\n\n She steps inside. He takes her hand and leads her\n toward the bedroom. Her other hand slips into her jacket\n pocket.\n\n BJURMAN\n Since we're still figuring out what\n you like, I went shopping for some\n new toys.\n\n SALANDER\n Me, too.\n\n BJURMAN\n "," Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\n Because this is important.\n She does ... in a way that says, I'd like to kill you.\n\n BJURMAN\n This behavior you're displaying\n right now is elaborately documented\n here -\n (in the file)\n - so it would come as a shock to no\n one if I chose an alternative to the\n lenient arrangement I just outlined.\n Is that what you're saying with your\n "," I like the reticence. I prefer a\n whore who pretends she isn't. It's\n almost convincing.\n He grabs her hair and roughly pulls her head toward him.\n90 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - LATER - NIGHT 90\n Salander eats some toothpaste in Bjurman's private\n bathroom. When she returns to the office, she finds him\n calmly writing a check.\n BJURMAN\n Here you go. As promised","out.\n He gets her in a strangle hold and chokes her into\n unconsciousness.\n100A INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT 100A\n\n She comes to, on her stomach, sees her wrists cuffed to\n the headboard posts, her ankles secured to the foot posts\n with silk ties, and scissors slicing her jeans off. She\n starts to scream and he stuffs her mouth with her\n underwear.\n BJUR","(pause)\n So, what do you need money for this\n time? Grand Theft Auto 5?\n\n SALANDER\n Food.\n He smiles. Steps toward her. Lifts her chin.\n BJURMAN\n How are you? Been thinking about\n last time? Decided you wanted to see\n me again?\n 54.\n 54.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I just want my money."," A car accident. You found that, too.\n\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\n pocket - changes his mind - changes it again and pulls it\n out.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Is this you?\n He hands her the less graphic of the two Polaroids\n Salander found in Martin's basement - the young girl,\n face turned half-away from the camera ...\n HARRIET\n I was 14 the first time he raped me.\n\n","\n Shall we start with me?\n (pause)\n Shall we start now?\n\nAs he comes around the desk, she eyes a sharp letter\nopener sticking out above some pens in a coffee mug a\nchild has painted with the word, `daddy.'\n BJURMAN\n If you're nice to me, I'll be nice to\n you. That's how normal people are.\n\nHe stands in front of her, his crotch at her eye level.\n BJURMAN\n You've done","s ever seen\n outside this room, who'll be\n institutionalized then?\n\nHe starts to whimper.\n SALANDER\n Here's what's going to happen.\n Pay attention.\n\nHe can't. He can't even look at her. His life is over. He\nweeps into the gag.\n SALANDER\n Look at me.\n\nHe won't. She strides to her backpack. Takes out a\nlarge dildo. Gets on her knees, and works it into his","48.\n 48.\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\n (nothing)\n How many partners have you had in the\n last month?\n (nothing)\n How many were men?\nThat last one seems to amuse him; none amuse her.\n BJURMAN\n I'm required to ask you these things.\n It's a matter of health.\n\n SALANDER\n ","He won't. She strides to her backpack. Takes out a\nlarge dildo. Gets on her knees, and works it into his\nass. She can only get it about halfway up. She has to\nstand up and kick it the rest of the way with her boot.\nHe howls into the gag.\n\n SALANDER\n Do I have your attention now?\n\nShe does indeed. He vigorously nods his head, now, and\nafter everything she says -\n\n SALANDER\n When you can walk again,","Vanger?\n BLOMKVIST\n You're too young to know about that.\n PHOTO EDITOR\n Everyone here grows up knowing about\n her. It's how we're taught about\n strangers.\n\n121 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - STOCKHOLM - NIGHT 121\n\n The door opens revealing Salander. Bjurman seems a\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\n\n BJURMAN\n My","slicing her jeans off. She\n starts to scream and he stuffs her mouth with her\n underwear.\n BJURMAN\n Please. I have neighbors.\n\n He lights a couple candles. Switches on some New Age\n music.\n\n BJURMAN\n What we're going to do now is teach\n you the value of money.\n\n He watches her struggle. But she's not going anywhere.\n He tears open a condom package with his teeth.\n 55"],["he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\n\n SALANDER\n Wait.\n\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on a chair.\n Sits on the edge of the bed. He stands over her. She\n knows what she's supposed to do, but seems unable to.\n BJURMAN\n Is there a problem?\n\n SALANDER\n I just want to know, am I going to\n have to do this every time I need\n money to eat?\n BJURMAN\n It","6 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\n\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\n SALANDER\n Good. You're alive.\n\n It takes him a moment to realize it's true. Another to\n realize it might be better if he wasn't since he's naked\n on the floor, face-up, wrists and ankles bound. He tries\n to cry out and realizes he's also gagged.\n\n She emerges from the","the elevator without really looking at the\n figure already in it.\n\n BJURMAN\n Ground, please.\n A finger presses it. The doors close and the elevator\n starts down.\n\n SALANDER\n How's your sex life?\n\n Bjurman, terrified, backs into a corner. She presses a\n button and the elevator jerks to a stop between floors.\n\n SALANDER\n I didn't care much for your last\n report.\n ","Salander. Bjurman seems a\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\n\n BJURMAN\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\n 66.\n 66.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I need more money. I need to pay my\n rent.\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\n\n BJURMAN\n Come on in.",".\n SALANDER\n She was raped and stabbed, but the\n cause of death was suffocation with a\n sanitary napkin. R.L. Rakel Lunde,\n 1957 -\nSalander brings up more crime photos -\n\n SALANDER\n Cleaning woman and part-time palm\n reader, tied up with a clothesline,\n gagged, raped, head crushed with a\n rock. Leviticus 20:27.\n\n BLOMKV"," BJURMAN\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\n (nothing from Salander)\n Terrible.\n\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\n through her file -\n BJURMAN\n What exactly do you do at this\n security company?\n\n SALANDER\n Make coffee and sort mail.\n\n BJURMAN\n But not full-time. Not even part","her little backpack over\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\n\n BJURMAN\n Come on in.\n\n She steps inside. He takes her hand and leads her\n toward the bedroom. Her other hand slips into her jacket\n pocket.\n\n BJURMAN\n Since we're still figuring out what\n you like, I went shopping for some\n new toys.\n\n SALANDER\n Me, too.\n\n BJURMAN\n ","He won't. She strides to her backpack. Takes out a\nlarge dildo. Gets on her knees, and works it into his\nass. She can only get it about halfway up. She has to\nstand up and kick it the rest of the way with her boot.\nHe howls into the gag.\n\n SALANDER\n Do I have your attention now?\n\nShe does indeed. He vigorously nods his head, now, and\nafter everything she says -\n\n SALANDER\n When you can walk again,","her struggle. But she's not going anywhere.\n He tears open a condom package with his teeth.\n 55.\n 55.\n \n\n BJURMAN\n I forget - did I ask you before if\n you liked anal sex?\n\n He crams a pillow under her stomach and climbs on top\n of her. She keeps fighting but there's not much she can\n do handcuffed. Eventually, she retreats to another place\n inside herself. She's had to go","? It's not a snap.\n It's a wide-angle micro-lens.\n\nShe takes a DVD-R from the backpack, puts it in his\nplayer, flips his plasma TV on with a remote. She got it\nall - what he did to her - the rape - in HD.\n\n SALANDER\n This shows you sodomizing a mentally\n impaired girl. If it's ever seen\n outside this room, who'll be\n institutionalized then?\n\nHe starts to whimper.\n SAL"," Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\n Because this is important.\n She does ... in a way that says, I'd like to kill you.\n\n BJURMAN\n This behavior you're displaying\n right now is elaborately documented\n here -\n (in the file)\n - so it would come as a shock to no\n one if I chose an alternative to the\n lenient arrangement I just outlined.\n Is that what you're saying with your\n ","\nthing he'll see is a pair of scissors in her hand, but it\nisn't. It's something else he doesn't recognize. She\nstraddles him again. He squirms under her weight.\n\n SALANDER\n Lie still. I've never done this\n before.\n 70.\n 70.\n \n\n He sees that the thing in her hand is some kind of\n surgical device, a shiny stripped-down gun with a sharp\n point and"," 54.\n 54.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I just want my money.\n\n BJURMAN\n Well, let's see if I can help you out\n with that.\n\n He walks to the hallway. She doesn't. He holds out\n his hand. She finally joins him. As they step into the\n bedroom, he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\n\n SALANDER\n Wait.\n\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on"," A car accident. You found that, too.\n\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\n pocket - changes his mind - changes it again and pulls it\n out.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Is this you?\n He hands her the less graphic of the two Polaroids\n Salander found in Martin's basement - the young girl,\n face turned half-away from the camera ...\n HARRIET\n I was 14 the first time he raped me.\n\n","nothing wrong with me.\n He nods. She gets the elevator going again and steps\n closer to him. He tries bowing his head like a dog being\n scolded. She lifts his chin like he did to her before he\n raped her.\n\n SALANDER\n And stop visiting tattoo removal\n websites or I'll do it again - right\n here.\n\n She touches his forehead. He backs away. The doors\n open and she steps out, leaving him in there, looking too\n frightened to move. The doors close","returns to the office, she finds him\n calmly writing a check.\n BJURMAN\n Here you go. As promised.\n\n He holds it out to her, but when she reaches for it,\n pulls it back a little.\n\n BJURMAN\n I know you're not thinking about\n telling anyone about our date. Enjoy\n your computer games.\n She takes the check and leaves.\n\n91 INT. SALANDER'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT 91\n"," I like the reticence. I prefer a\n whore who pretends she isn't. It's\n almost convincing.\n He grabs her hair and roughly pulls her head toward him.\n90 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - LATER - NIGHT 90\n Salander eats some toothpaste in Bjurman's private\n bathroom. When she returns to the office, she finds him\n calmly writing a check.\n BJURMAN\n Here you go. As promised","(pause)\n So, what do you need money for this\n time? Grand Theft Auto 5?\n\n SALANDER\n Food.\n He smiles. Steps toward her. Lifts her chin.\n BJURMAN\n How are you? Been thinking about\n last time? Decided you wanted to see\n me again?\n 54.\n 54.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I just want my money."," No, it okay. You can nod because\n it's true. I am insane.\n\nShe gets up off him, rummages through her backpack again.\n SALANDER\n I know it'll be hard for you to abide\n by my rules. Especially no more sex.\n I'm going to make it easier for you.\nShe puts on a plastic surgical mask. He fears the next\nthing he'll see is a pair of scissors in her hand, but it\nisn't. It's something else he doesn","s ever seen\n outside this room, who'll be\n institutionalized then?\n\nHe starts to whimper.\n SALANDER\n Here's what's going to happen.\n Pay attention.\n\nHe can't. He can't even look at her. His life is over. He\nweeps into the gag.\n SALANDER\n Look at me.\n\nHe won't. She strides to her backpack. Takes out a\nlarge dildo. Gets on her knees, and works it into his"],["he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\n\n SALANDER\n Wait.\n\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on a chair.\n Sits on the edge of the bed. He stands over her. She\n knows what she's supposed to do, but seems unable to.\n BJURMAN\n Is there a problem?\n\n SALANDER\n I just want to know, am I going to\n have to do this every time I need\n money to eat?\n BJURMAN\n It","Salander. Bjurman seems a\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\n\n BJURMAN\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\n 66.\n 66.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I need more money. I need to pay my\n rent.\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\n\n BJURMAN\n Come on in.","the elevator without really looking at the\n figure already in it.\n\n BJURMAN\n Ground, please.\n A finger presses it. The doors close and the elevator\n starts down.\n\n SALANDER\n How's your sex life?\n\n Bjurman, terrified, backs into a corner. She presses a\n button and the elevator jerks to a stop between floors.\n\n SALANDER\n I didn't care much for your last\n report.\n "," 54.\n 54.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I just want my money.\n\n BJURMAN\n Well, let's see if I can help you out\n with that.\n\n He walks to the hallway. She doesn't. He holds out\n his hand. She finally joins him. As they step into the\n bedroom, he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\n\n SALANDER\n Wait.\n\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on"," BJURMAN\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\n (nothing from Salander)\n Terrible.\n\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\n through her file -\n BJURMAN\n What exactly do you do at this\n security company?\n\n SALANDER\n Make coffee and sort mail.\n\n BJURMAN\n But not full-time. Not even part","6 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\n\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\n SALANDER\n Good. You're alive.\n\n It takes him a moment to realize it's true. Another to\n realize it might be better if he wasn't since he's naked\n on the floor, face-up, wrists and ankles bound. He tries\n to cry out and realizes he's also gagged.\n\n She emerges from the"," Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\n Because this is important.\n She does ... in a way that says, I'd like to kill you.\n\n BJURMAN\n This behavior you're displaying\n right now is elaborately documented\n here -\n (in the file)\n - so it would come as a shock to no\n one if I chose an alternative to the\n lenient arrangement I just outlined.\n Is that what you're saying with your\n ","(pause)\n So, what do you need money for this\n time? Grand Theft Auto 5?\n\n SALANDER\n Food.\n He smiles. Steps toward her. Lifts her chin.\n BJURMAN\n How are you? Been thinking about\n last time? Decided you wanted to see\n me again?\n 54.\n 54.\n \n\n SALANDER\n I just want my money."," I like the reticence. I prefer a\n whore who pretends she isn't. It's\n almost convincing.\n He grabs her hair and roughly pulls her head toward him.\n90 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - LATER - NIGHT 90\n Salander eats some toothpaste in Bjurman's private\n bathroom. When she returns to the office, she finds him\n calmly writing a check.\n BJURMAN\n Here you go. As promised","returns to the office, she finds him\n calmly writing a check.\n BJURMAN\n Here you go. As promised.\n\n He holds it out to her, but when she reaches for it,\n pulls it back a little.\n\n BJURMAN\n I know you're not thinking about\n telling anyone about our date. Enjoy\n your computer games.\n She takes the check and leaves.\n\n91 INT. SALANDER'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT 91\n","\n I'm required to ask you these things.\n It's a matter of health.\n\n SALANDER\n Write down anything you want.\nBjurman sighs. Sets the form aside and looks at the\nMcJesus invoice again.\n BJURMAN\n Why do you need such an expensive\n computer?\n\n SALANDER\n For work.\n\n BJURMAN\n Making coffee and sorting mail.\n\n SALANDER\n I shouldn't even","her little backpack over\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\n\n BJURMAN\n Come on in.\n\n She steps inside. He takes her hand and leads her\n toward the bedroom. Her other hand slips into her jacket\n pocket.\n\n BJURMAN\n Since we're still figuring out what\n you like, I went shopping for some\n new toys.\n\n SALANDER\n Me, too.\n\n BJURMAN\n ",".\n\n88 INT. OFFICE BUILDING - STOCKHOLM - NIGHT 88\n\n Salander comes past a janitor waxing a long, otherwise\n empty corridor. At the far end, she opens her new\n guardian's office door.\n\n89 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - NIGHT 89\n As Bjurman reviews a McJesus invoice, Salander waits.\n The thick atmosphere reminds her of all the others she\n has sat in with","EXT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 98\n\n Outside the building's entrance with a backpack slung\n over her shoulder, Salander presses an apartment button.\n As she waits, she notes there's no security camera.\n\n BJURMAN O/S\n Yes?\n\n SALANDER\n It's me.\n\n The door buzzes. She pushes it open.\n99 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT","? It's not a snap.\n It's a wide-angle micro-lens.\n\nShe takes a DVD-R from the backpack, puts it in his\nplayer, flips his plasma TV on with a remote. She got it\nall - what he did to her - the rape - in HD.\n\n SALANDER\n This shows you sodomizing a mentally\n impaired girl. If it's ever seen\n outside this room, who'll be\n institutionalized then?\n\nHe starts to whimper.\n SAL","Vanger?\n BLOMKVIST\n You're too young to know about that.\n PHOTO EDITOR\n Everyone here grows up knowing about\n her. It's how we're taught about\n strangers.\n\n121 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - STOCKHOLM - NIGHT 121\n\n The door opens revealing Salander. Bjurman seems a\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\n\n BJURMAN\n My",".\n\nHe stands in front of her, his crotch at her eye level.\n BJURMAN\n You've done this before. You know\n what to do.\n (MORE)\n 49.\n 49.\n \n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\n (she doesn't do anything)\n Do you want this computer or not?\n\n He takes her hand and places it on the crotch of his\n trousers.\n "," A car accident. You found that, too.\n\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\n pocket - changes his mind - changes it again and pulls it\n out.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Is this you?\n He hands her the less graphic of the two Polaroids\n Salander found in Martin's basement - the young girl,\n face turned half-away from the camera ...\n HARRIET\n I was 14 the first time he raped me.\n\n","SALANDER\n I've been on my own since I was\n twelve.\n BJURMAN\n No. You've been a persistent burden\n to the State since you were twelve.\n\n She won't look at him any more - not that there's\n anything even remotely interesting to see if she did.\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\n Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\n Because this is important.\n She does ... in a way that says, I","s ever seen\n outside this room, who'll be\n institutionalized then?\n\nHe starts to whimper.\n SALANDER\n Here's what's going to happen.\n Pay attention.\n\nHe can't. He can't even look at her. His life is over. He\nweeps into the gag.\n SALANDER\n Look at me.\n\nHe won't. She strides to her backpack. Takes out a\nlarge dildo. Gets on her knees, and works it into his"],["BLOMKVIST\n That's comforting. Are you hungry?\n Want a sandwich?\n\n SALANDER\n No.\n Busy setting up her laptop on his desk, starting it up,\n sitting down at it, she's all but ignoring him.\n BLOMKVIST\n I used to have a motorcycle. When I\n was 19.\n\n SALANDER\n I know.\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\n ","this.\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm not so sure.\n\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\n FRODE\n What do you mean?\n 76.\n 76.\n\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I may have found something.\n\n FRODE\n (pause)\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's","\n\n SALANDER\n I know.\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\n list of names and initials he gave her -\n\n SALANDER\n The five cases from Harriet's\n list. And five more she missed -\n three I'm sure about.\n\n Five more? Blomkvist stares at her but she's turned back\n to her laptop, bringing up police reports and crime scene\n photos.\n SALANDER\n Rebecka","Salander is clever.\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Maybe.\n 122.\n 122.\n \n\n Martin hands Blomkvist the mini-Maglite.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Thanks.\n222 INT. ARCHIVES - NIGHT 222\n\n Salander scrolls through laptop photos to the one at the\n parade taken by the Brann","She pours milk in her coffee from the carton she just\n bought. Pushes over two faded Polaroid photos. He picks\n them up:\n One shows a young girl about 14, naked from the waist up,\n head turned half-away from the camera. The second shows\n her on her stomach on a bed, completely naked, face\n turned to the photographer, frightened.\n BLOMKVIST\n Harriet?\n\n SALANDER\n I think so.\n\n Blomkvist","IN\n How's the investigation?\n BLOMKVIST\n Nothing new to report.\n\n Blomkvist notices a drop of blood from his pantleg on\n the stone floor and covers it up with his shoe. Martin,\n not seeming to notice, finds a mini-Maglite in the\n drawer.\n\n MARTIN\n Dirch says Ms. Salander is clever.\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Maybe.\n","\n\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Since when have they said that.\n SALANDER\n Since I was twelve.\n BLOMKVIST\n Something happened when you were\n twelve?\n\n She doesn't say. Just studies him ...\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's all right, you don't have to\n tell me anything","MKVIST\n We need to somehow figure out who\n they are, what happened to them, what\n the Leviticus verses have to do with\n (anything) -\n\n She gets up, goes to her desk, begins jotting something\n down, ignoring him.\n BLOMKVIST\n What are you doing?\n\n SALANDER\n Getting started. You can keep\n talking if you want.\n Blomkvist, slightly taken aback, picks up the"," A car accident. You found that, too.\n\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\n pocket - changes his mind - changes it again and pulls it\n out.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Is this you?\n He hands her the less graphic of the two Polaroids\n Salander found in Martin's basement - the young girl,\n face turned half-away from the camera ...\n HARRIET\n I was 14 the first time he raped me.\n\n","Naturally, this is the last thing Blomkvist wants to do,\n but it would be more suspicious if he refuses. He heads\n back to Martin's house, trying not to limp.\n220 INT. ARCHIVES - NIGHT 220\n\n Finished with her candy bar and coffee, Salander opens\n the 1967 files, looks through the clippings for anything\n of note in Uppsala, where Lena was killed.\n\n She finds no news of factories opening there that"," BLOMKVIST\n It's all right, we're looking for a\n serial murderer ... But what does it\n have to do with a 16-year-old girl\n on an island?\n\n Salander, as we know, is not paid to give her opinion.\n She's a hunter/gatherer, not an analyst. But Blomkvist\n asked, so she gives it -\n\n SALANDER\n She was looking for him, too.\n\n16",")\n You're joking.\n (Blomkvist isn't)\n What did you find?\nNow it's Blomkvist who studies Frode. He's not sure he\nwants to tell him. And even less so the longer he looks.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n The last time I reported something\n before I was sure of it, it cost me\n my savings.\n\nFrode studies him again - wondering perhaps if Blomkvist\nsuspects him.\n BLOMK","ander\n brought from Martin's chamber of horrors late last night:\n\n A scrapbook of murder. A death book. Photos of women\n cowering in his cage, tied to the bed, dead on the table -\n along with souvenirs of painted fingernails and locks of\n hair - all carefully taped into the `album.' The older\n photographs are Polaroids; the newer ones digital prints.\n With little to no discernible emotion, Salander watches\n Frode wince as he turns the pages.\n\n Frode can","does the\n girl know?\n\n Blomkvist isn't sure how to play that question ...\n MARTIN\n Let's hope it's as much as you.\n That'll make it more fun. Where is\n she?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Stockholm. She went there this\n morning.\n MARTIN\n And that's a lie. She's sitting in\n our offices looking at more old crap.\n Our archives manager called me - very\n perturbed","KVIST O/S\n What are you doing?\n\n He's just woken up in a tangle of blankets on the couch\n to see her at his laptop. She closes the album, leaving\n on the screen what she was looking at before: his iMovie\n of the parade and some annotated police files.\n SALANDER\n Going over your notes.\n BLOMKVIST\n They're encrypted.\n\n She gives him a don't-be-a-child look.","LATER - DAY 197\n\n Blomkvist and Salander walk down the road from Martin's\n house.\n\n SALANDER\n What am I looking for?\n BLOMKVIST\n Any connections between the\n company's holdings and the towns\n where the women were killed ... and\n everything about Frode.\n\n198 EXT. HEDESTAD - DAY 198\n\n Vanger Industries' corporate archives",".\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What did he think about that?\n HARRIET\n Nothing. Only that he loved her.\n She said, If you love me, you'll do\n this and not ask why. He never did.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n They both died twenty years ago.\n\n HARRIET\n A car accident. You found that, too.\n\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\n pocket -","KVIST\n Harriet?\n\n SALANDER\n I think so.\n\n Blomkvist can't look at the photos long. Sets them\n down. Something's troubling him -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Martin didn't deny killing anyone.\n But when I mentioned Harriet, he was\n confused. He was angry - at me - for\n not being able to tell him what\n happened to her.\n (pause)\n He","scrolls through photos\n on his laptop, leaving on the screen for Salander to see\n when she returns: Martin's recent Vanger Industries PR\n portrait ...\n 118.\n 118.\n \n\n215 INT. ARCHIVES - NIGHT 215\n\n Salander has hit a snag. Gets up. We stay to have a\n look at the problem she leaves: the victims list - now\n with \"Gottfried\" jotted down next to all but"," Yes, it was quite thorough.\n BLOMKVIST\n I want to read it.\n FRODE\n That I couldn't authorize.\n 77.\n 77.\n \n\n Blomkvist isn't sure how to play this. Then he is.\n Sets his napkin down, gets up and begins taking things\n down from the wall. Frode watches. Then sighs.\n135 EXT. STOCKHOLM - DUSK "],["\n\n SALANDER\n I know.\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\n list of names and initials he gave her -\n\n SALANDER\n The five cases from Harriet's\n list. And five more she missed -\n three I'm sure about.\n\n Five more? Blomkvist stares at her but she's turned back\n to her laptop, bringing up police reports and crime scene\n photos.\n SALANDER\n Rebecka","ander\n brought from Martin's chamber of horrors late last night:\n\n A scrapbook of murder. A death book. Photos of women\n cowering in his cage, tied to the bed, dead on the table -\n along with souvenirs of painted fingernails and locks of\n hair - all carefully taped into the `album.' The older\n photographs are Polaroids; the newer ones digital prints.\n With little to no discernible emotion, Salander watches\n Frode wince as he turns the pages.\n\n Frode can","this time. We moved on to a\n neighbor. Then a vagrant -\n\n He pulls a thick, yellowed folder out and sits with it\n and her at a table.\n DET. ISAKSSON\n Once you get to strangers, it's only\n a matter of time before you get to\n gypsies, and you know you're never\n going to solve it.\n And that troubles him still, that he never solved it.\n\n SALANDER\n How exactly was she killed?\n","-\n SALANDER\n (again on his last word)\n Lea Persson, 1962 -\n\n A photo of a pretty girl in riding jodhpurs, petting a\n horse, and several more of her dead naked body on a wet\n cement floor surrounded by tropical fish.\n\n SALANDER\n Found by her sister in their pet\n shop - raped, beaten. The killer\n uncaged the animals, smashed the\n aquariums. There was a parake"," BLOMKVIST\n It's all right, we're looking for a\n serial murderer ... But what does it\n have to do with a 16-year-old girl\n on an island?\n\n Salander, as we know, is not paid to give her opinion.\n She's a hunter/gatherer, not an analyst. But Blomkvist\n asked, so she gives it -\n\n SALANDER\n She was looking for him, too.\n\n16","She moves off. Her friends look after\n her confused. And then she's gone.\n Blomkvist backs up to the frame of Harriet looking off\n with fear in her eyes, and for the first time believes\n without a doubt what Vanger has believed for 40 years:\n\n She was murdered. Whoever she saw across the street\n followed her and killed her. The cat watches him.\n126 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\n\n Bjurman slowly comes to.",".\n SALANDER\n She was raped and stabbed, but the\n cause of death was suffocation with a\n sanitary napkin. R.L. Rakel Lunde,\n 1957 -\nSalander brings up more crime photos -\n\n SALANDER\n Cleaning woman and part-time palm\n reader, tied up with a clothesline,\n gagged, raped, head crushed with a\n rock. Leviticus 20:27.\n\n BLOMKV","Harriet most of all.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Excuse me?\n\n SALANDER\n If she'd done anything but run,\n Martin wouldn't have been able to\n kill all those women.\n BLOMKVIST\n She had no idea he was doing it.\n\n SALANDER\n She should have killed her father and\n him.\n BLOMKVIST\n That's what you would've done",".\n And that troubles him still, that he never solved it.\n\n SALANDER\n How exactly was she killed?\n\n DET. ISAKSSON\n Miss - I'm sorry -\n\n SALANDER\n Salander.\n DET. ISAKSSON\n Miss Salander, if you don't mind my\n asking, when's the last time you ate?\n 85.\n 85.\n \n\n SALAND","262\n\n Blomkvist and Salander sit out by the water, sharing\n the last cigarette in his pack. Her arm is draped over\n his shoulder, which strikes him as the most tender of\n gestures, coming from her.\n\n SALANDER\n Fuck these people ...\n BLOMKVIST\n Yeah ...\n SALANDER\n Harriet most of all.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Excuse me?\n\n SALANDER","one she\n made earlier where the nine women were murdered. Dots\n appear at the same locations on both.\n\n On a handwritten list of the victims, she puts a check\n next to Rebecka Jacobsson, 1949, Hedestad - moves on to\n Mari Holmberg, 1954, Kalmar - begins sifting through the\n mountain of Vanger Industries clippings from that year -\n 113.\n 113.\n \n\n206","don't have hers.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Whose.\n\nShe doesn't say. He comes over. She plays the iMovie,\nstops on a frame before Harriet turns her head. Points\nto a young couple standing among the people behind her.\nThe woman has an Instamatic camera in her hand.\n SALANDER\n Her.\n\nShe advances to the next frame: The woman has raised\nthe camera to her eye.\n\nAnd the next: Harriet turning her head in foreground\nwhile in"," SALANDER\n May I kill him?\n\nNothing in his life would allow him to agree to such a\nthing - until now. Now it's as if her years of violence\nand degradation have been passed to him.\n\nHe nods.\n 134.\n 134.\n \n\n She puts the hunting knife in his hand. Pulls the gun\n from her back pocket, checks the clip, flicks off the\n safety, and turns to leave -\n\n BLOM"," MORELL O/S\n Of course I do, but what would it\n have to do with anything?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Nothing probably.\n\n As Blomkvist glances to the last page in Harriet's\n address book, to R.J. 30114 -\n\n MORELL O/S\n Jacobsson. Rebecka Jacobsson.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n How was she killed?\n MORELL O",", 1960. A runaway.\n Raped, strangled, a burnt pigeon\n tied around her neck. Lena\n Andersson, 1967, a student. Raped,\n stabbed, decapitated -\n BLOMKVIST\n Okay -\n\n SALANDER\n I'm not done -\n BLOMKVIST\n It's all right, we're looking for a\n serial murderer ... But what","the family murdered\n Harriet and for the last forty years\n has been trying to drive me insane.\n33 OMIT: INT. SALANDER'S APARTMENT - STOCKHOLM - DAY 33\n34 EXT. TRAIN STATION - HEDESTAD - DUSK 34\n\n The 4:30 train leaves the station without Blomkvist.\n35 INT. VANGER'S STUDY - DUSK 35\n\n Anna g","KVIST\n Harriet?\n\n SALANDER\n I think so.\n\n Blomkvist can't look at the photos long. Sets them\n down. Something's troubling him -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Martin didn't deny killing anyone.\n But when I mentioned Harriet, he was\n confused. He was angry - at me - for\n not being able to tell him what\n happened to her.\n (pause)\n He","scrolls through photos\n on his laptop, leaving on the screen for Salander to see\n when she returns: Martin's recent Vanger Industries PR\n portrait ...\n 118.\n 118.\n \n\n215 INT. ARCHIVES - NIGHT 215\n\n Salander has hit a snag. Gets up. We stay to have a\n look at the problem she leaves: the victims list - now\n with \"Gottfried\" jotted down next to all but","s turned back\n to her laptop, bringing up police reports and crime scene\n photos.\n SALANDER\n Rebecka was the first, like you\n thought ... M.H., is Mari Holmberg\n - a prostitute in Kalmar - murdered\n in 1954. Leviticus verse 20, line\n 18.\n 91.\n 91.\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\n\n BLOMK","She pours milk in her coffee from the carton she just\n bought. Pushes over two faded Polaroid photos. He picks\n them up:\n One shows a young girl about 14, naked from the waist up,\n head turned half-away from the camera. The second shows\n her on her stomach on a bed, completely naked, face\n turned to the photographer, frightened.\n BLOMKVIST\n Harriet?\n\n SALANDER\n I think so.\n\n Blomkvist"],[" Trying to look like he's just out for a stroll,\n Blomkvist walks past Martin's dark house, then turns\n around, walks up the front path to the porch and makes a\n show of knocking on the door, just in case anyone on the\n island can see him, which is doubtful in this darkness.\n He tries the door. Locked. Comes down off the porch as\n if leaving, but then veers off the path and walks around\n to the side of the house.\n\n He peers through a floor-"," moment later, Blomkvist hears a sound of tires on gravel.\n Martin is back, and Blomkvist is in his house.\n\n We rush back down the hall with Blomkvist. Hopefully\n Martin will enter through the front door because we're\n going to try to get out the back one -\n\n Blomkvist trips over something in the dark and we go down\n with him. Then up again - through the kitchen - past the\n basement door - grabs a knife from a drawer - shoves it\n in a","\n\n LIV\n I found him at death's door halfway\n up the hill.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm afraid I'm a bit out of shape.\n\n MARTIN\n No, it's a climb for anyone. I\n should've warned you. Come on in.\n\n Blomkvist puts a bottle of aquavit in Martin's hand.\n82 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 82\n\n The place is far","Blomkvist's cottage. The\n headlights blink off. Someone climbs out.\n\n218D INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 218D\n\n Blomkvist comes into a study. Lots of books and framed\n photographs. He begins looking around.\n\n218E EXT. HEDEBY ISLAND - NIGHT 218E\n\n The headlights come up the road leading to the point.\n218F INT. MARTIN'S","218E\n\n The headlights come up the road leading to the point.\n218F INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 218F\n\n Blomkvist approaches a gun case in the study. Hunting\n rifles. Three of them - and an empty space for a fourth\n one.\n\n The trees outside the study window flare with light. A\n moment later, Blomkvist hears a sound of tires on gravel.\n Martin is back, and Blomkvist is in his","him. Then up again - through the kitchen - past the\n basement door - grabs a knife from a drawer - shoves it\n in a back pocket - hurries out the rear door -\n\n219 EXT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS 219\n Blomkvist tries to steady his breathing as he slinks\n around the side of the house. As he passes a window, it\n lights up - and we again hit the ground with him.\n He hurries across the yard, trips over something in"," Mikael, it did work. You're here.\n They come through a pantry, at the end of which is a\n door.\n\n MARTIN\n Open it.\n Blomkvist does. Sees steps leading into darkness. As\n they descend Martin flicks a switch and bare fluorescent\n tubes flicker on to reveal: A furnace. Washer. Dryer.\n Old discarded furniture. And another door. A steel one.\n As they approach it, Martin presses a little remote and","228A\n\n Blomkvist comes to on the floor, handcuffed to a chain\n that runs through a metal eyelet. He sees Martin behind\n a video camera on a tripod, focusing it - a shelf full of\n Betamax tapes - and a TV monitor on which his own image\n then appears.\n Note: the steel door if we were close enough to it to\n notice - which we aren't - is not locked. It's not even\n completely shut.\n\n Satisfied with the framing of the shot","have a flashlight? I'll\n give you one.\n BLOMKVIST\n I just wasn't being careful.\n\n Martin smiles, but Blomkvist isn't sure what he said\n warrants one. Martin begins rummaging through a drawer\n for a flashlight. The knife block - with one missing -\n is right there.\n\n MARTIN\n How's the investigation?\n BLOMKVIST\n Nothing new to report.\n\n Blom","IN\n How's the investigation?\n BLOMKVIST\n Nothing new to report.\n\n Blomkvist notices a drop of blood from his pantleg on\n the stone floor and covers it up with his shoe. Martin,\n not seeming to notice, finds a mini-Maglite in the\n drawer.\n\n MARTIN\n Dirch says Ms. Salander is clever.\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Maybe.\n","bag in the kitchen.\n\n MARTIN\n What happened to you?\n BLOMKVIST\n When.\n\n MARTIN\n Now.\n\n Blomkvist's clothes. The fresh mud stains.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I fell in the dark.\n MARTIN\n You don't have a flashlight? I'll\n give you one.\n BLOMKVIST\n I just wasn'","wandering through it looking for vending machines.\n\n She finds some. Drops coins in one. A cup fills with\n coffee. She gets a candy bar from another. The coffee\n machine finishes. The place again plunges into silence.\n She starts back with her snack down a hallway -\n\n217 EXT. HEDEBY ISLAND - NIGHT 217\n\n Trying to look like he's just out for a stroll,\n Blomkvist walks past Martin's dark house, then turns","Hi. How are you?\n\n Martin pulls a golf bag from his trunk and shoulders it.\n\n MARTIN\n I stopped at the hospital on my way\n home. Henrik asked me to ask you\n something.\n BLOMKVIST\n What.\n\n MARTIN\n Come on in, I'll make you a drink.\n\n Naturally, this is the last thing Blomkvist wants to do,\n but it would be more suspicious if he refuses. He heads\n"," What have you (found) -\n Blomkvist hangs up and takes off at a trot toward the\n bridge -\n133 EXT. VANGER MANOR - LATER 133\n\n He reaches the manor just as the ambulance is leaving\n and Martin is climbing into his Range Rover. He looks\n undone.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What's happened?\n MARTIN\n We were talking. He started\n rubbing at","'s done.\n225 EXT. VANGER ARCHIVES BUILDING - NIGHT 225\n\n Crossing the empty parking lot, she tries Blomkvist on\n her cell. Gets his voice mail. Kick-starts her bike.\n226 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 226\n\n Martin \"leads\" Blomkvist from behind back to the kitchen,\n switching off lights as they go.\n\n MARTIN\n You know what","and floor - table with leather straps - bed with leather\n straps - steel-mesh cage - work bench with handsaws and\n other tools -\n\n Blomkvist takes it in with one glance and immediately\n turns to try to smash the glass in his hand into Martin's\n face - which is covered now with a plastic oxygen mask he\n holds to it. Gas plumes down on Blomkvist from above;\n the glass comes out of his hand, shattering on the cement\n floor -\n\n228 EXT. HEDEBY",". In your Uppsala prep school\n blazer.\n\nMartin doesn't see the significance, but is pleased\nBlomkvist has decided to \"participate.\" He rewards him by\nsuspending his shower curtain work to return to the\nchair. It squeaks again.\n MARTIN\n What does that say?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n That you lied about where you were\n that day. Or rather when.\n\n MARTIN\n Did I? If I did, so what. ","Blomkvist's pocket when\n he was out cold.\n\n MARTIN\n I can't thank you enough for bringing\n her to me.\n228B INT. COTTAGE - NIGHT 228B\n\n As Salander gets the door open with her key and comes in -\n SALANDER\n Mikael - ?\n\n He's clearly not here. She goes to the closet. Takes\n out the surveillance PC. Puts it on the desk - next to\n Bl","go hunting.\n\nMartin pulls open a bar drawer and takes from it a\nhandgun.\n\n MARTIN\n A gun. Rather than a knife.\n\nHe gives a little gesture with it to the handle of the\nknife protruding from a back pocket of Blomkvist's jeans.\nThere are fresh drops of blood on the floor next to his\nshoes.\n\n MARTIN\n You just couldn't stay away, could\n you.\n\nBlomkvist doesn't know what to say. Martin's","its pocket - the same as on\n Lena Andersson's sweater in the photo of her in the\n article about her murder.\n221 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 221\n\n It's not as eerie with the lights on - except for the\n fact there's a killer in it. Martin sets the golf clubs\n down and begins emptying a grocery bag in the kitchen.\n\n MARTIN\n What happened to you?\n BLOMKVIST\n "],["of the oar down, burying it in his head\n like an axe.\n\n He stares up her, uncomprehending. His fingers slide\n away from the dock. His body goes limp and sinks out of\n sight beneath the water.\n HARRIET V/O\n When it was finally over I looked\n up, and Martin was standing there -\n\n She sees her brother up by the cabin looking down at her.\n HARRIET V/O\n With a little smile.\n","The rain does nothing to dampen it. She could\n probably brave it to pull Martin out - but doesn't.\n As the flames burn his clothes, he manages to get his\n hands on the rifle he took from the den, turns its barrel\n to his bloody head - but before he can pull the trigger,\n she hurries over, yanks it from his grasp and stands back\n again. It's much more cathartic to watch him burn ...\n 135.\n 135.\n \n\n","for the kill, but she veers\n hard to one side, leaving him headed straight for the gas\n station Blomkvist makes his pay phone calls from - and\n the tanker truck parked there -\n\n Martin hits the brakes - hydroplanes into the truck - and\n its, or his own tank, or both, explode -\n Salander circles back. Regards the fire engulfing the\n car. The rain does nothing to dampen it. She could\n probably brave it to pull Martin out - but doesn't.\n As the flames burn","a roll of\ncellophane, pulls on the strap again until Blomkvist is\nbalancing on his tiptoes, and ties it off.\n\n MARTIN\n Too tight to talk?\nIt is. Blomkvist can utter no sound but a gag.\n\n MARTIN\n Good. I'm tired of talking to you.\n\nHe wraps Blomkvist's head in cellophane, completely\ncutting off his ability to breathe, and calmly watches\nhim struggle. ...\n MART","lifts him\n onto his tiptoes.\n\n MARTIN\n What happened to her.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n You're choking me -\n MARTIN\n You found her?\n BLOMKVIST\n You killed her.\n\n Martin just stares at him confused. Then -\n\n MARTIN\n You useless fuckin detective.\n 132.\n 132.\n \n\nHe",".\n \"Maybe if I say the right thing - if\n I'm polite - or I cry and beg - maybe\n I'll survive.\"\n (regards Blomkvist)\n And then the moment comes when they\n realize ... no, all hope is gone.\n (MORE)\n 130.\n 130.\n \n MARTIN (CONT'D)\n And when that happens - when I see\n the hope draining from their face\n like it","\n\n LIV\n I found him at death's door halfway\n up the hill.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm afraid I'm a bit out of shape.\n\n MARTIN\n No, it's a climb for anyone. I\n should've warned you. Come on in.\n\n Blomkvist puts a bottle of aquavit in Martin's hand.\n82 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 82\n\n The place is far","'s head in cellophane, completely\ncutting off his ability to breathe, and calmly watches\nhim struggle. ...\n MARTIN\n Would you like me to do something\n about that?\n\nBlomkvist desperately nods as he's about to suffocate.\nMartin watches another several moments ... then pokes a\nfinger through the cellophane into Blomkvist's gasping\nmouth.\n MARTIN\n See? I'm not a monster.\nHe frames a wide shot of his naked prey. Turns","school in Uppsala. And I\n thought maybe - maybe - the nightmare\n was over. Until that day.\n The float with the harem girls comes past, and we watch\n the smile on young Harriet's face change to fear as she\n notices something off to the left.\n HARRIET V/O\n There he was - across the street -\n looking at me with that same little\n smile on his face.\n\n A clear shot of young Martin in his Uppsala blazer","room, and down the hall to the study. She\n eases around the doorway - the room is empty - looks to\n the gun case - sees there are only two rifles there now.\n She hears an engine start outside. Hurries back through\n the house. Sees out the picture window the taillights of\n Martin's car receding fast down the road as clouds burst.\n\n She bangs out the front door. Runs halfway down the\n hill in the rain to where she left her motorcycle, jumps\n on and kick-starts","go hunting.\n\nMartin pulls open a bar drawer and takes from it a\nhandgun.\n\n MARTIN\n A gun. Rather than a knife.\n\nHe gives a little gesture with it to the handle of the\nknife protruding from a back pocket of Blomkvist's jeans.\nThere are fresh drops of blood on the floor next to his\nshoes.\n\n MARTIN\n You just couldn't stay away, could\n you.\n\nBlomkvist doesn't know what to say. Martin's","'t get a grip. Martin watches the struggle\ncalmly, and just as calmly offers:\n\n MARTIN\n It's time. I don't want to be late\n for my date with our girlfriend.\n 133.\n 133.\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\n\nHe puts on a plastic rain poncho. A painter's mask.\nPlastic goggles. Surgeons gloves. Picks up a hunting\nknife. Steps","omkvist who only witnessed part\nof the spectacle before losing consciousness -\n\nShe saws through the leather strap around his neck.\nUnlocks the chain. As he sinks to his knees on the\nfloor, blood rushes to his head, bringing him back to\nlife just enough to see what she can't behind her -\n\nMartin, blood streaming from the gash in his head,\ngetting to his feet. But he's not coming at them; he's\ntrying to get out -\n\nBlomkvist tries to say her name to get her"," You'd never think the fear of\n offending could be stronger than the\n fear of pain - but you know what? It\n is. They always come willingly.\n\nIt amazes him. It always amazes him. He keeps working.\n MARTIN\n And then they're here. They know\n it's over like you do - and still\n somehow think they have a chance.\n \"Maybe if I say the right thing - if\n I'm polite - or I cry and beg - maybe\n I'll","ael?\n (he manages a nod)\n We're going to the same place.\n Hop in.\n\n81 EXT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - EVENING 81\n\n Martin, wearing an apron, opens the door to find both his\n dinner guests on the porch.\n 41.\n 41.\n \n\n LIV\n I found him at death's door halfway\n up the hill.\n\n BLOMKV","poncho. A painter's mask.\nPlastic goggles. Surgeons gloves. Picks up a hunting\nknife. Steps up to Blomkvist. Looks at his eyes.\nBrings his own head close to his victim's -\n MARTIN\n Goodbye, Mikael.\nHe pulls the strap, lifting Blomkvist's toes off the\nfloor, closing off his air again ... and is about to gut\nhim like a wild boar ... when he hears a sound like some\nkind of animal behind him ...\n\nHe",".\n Another immigrant whore. Who misses\n them?\n\n He returns to his work bench to lay out various tools\n next to his gun and a desk phone.\n BLOMKVIST\n Your sister wasn't just another girl.\n Martin comes back quickly and yanks a strap that cinches\n the noose tighter around Blomkvist's neck as it lifts him\n onto his tiptoes.\n\n MARTIN\n What happened to her.\n\n BLO","he died.\n\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\n BLOMKVIST\n Why didn't you tell someone?\n HARRIET\n I did. My mother.\n\n Blomkvist stares. Finally -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Henrik would have done something.\n\n HARRIET\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\n told him. But I was afraid because"," company in the country. At the\n height, we had 40,000 employees. We\n have about half that now, and that\n downward slide - anyone can tell you -\n began after my sister's death. It\n broke Henrik's entrepreneurial\n spirit, and his heart.\n\nAnd Martin's, too, clearly. Blomkvist dares to ask, as\ninnocently as possible -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n You were here that day?\n\n MARTIN\n","passes a window, it\n lights up - and we again hit the ground with him.\n He hurries across the yard, trips over something in the\n dark - a sprinkler? - and goes down again into wet muck.\n\n He gets up and starts down the road as if returning from\n a leisurely evening walk - which would be more convincing\n without the limp - not daring to look back as he goes.\n 120.\n 120.\n \n\n MARTIN O"],["\n Blomkvist knocks on the door. Anita pulls it open.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It's me. Sorry to bother you.\n\n She doesn't invite him in, but doesn't shut the door in\n his face either.\n ANITA\n What do you want?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n No one's called you?\n\n ANITA\n About.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n ","she was very unhappy.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n She never confided in you what about,\n specifically?\n ANITA\n There was no specifically. It was\n everything. It was being part of\n that family. Henrik's the only\n decent person in it.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n What do you think happened to her?\n\n ANITA\n Everyone knows what.\n BLOMKVIST\n But you have no ... thoughts about\n why, or","\n\n ANITA\n I never saw it myself, but you could\n tell something was going on. One day\n she'd be withdrawn. The next she'd\n be putting on makeup and wearing the\n tightest sweater she had to school.\n The next she'd be studying a Bible\n like a nun - no Vanger was ever\n religious - can you imagine?\n Obviously, she was very unhappy.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n She never confided in you what about,\n specifically?\n ","the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\nwas about 17 years old.\n\n CECILIA\n She knew Harriet better than anyone -\n certainly better than I did. You\n should talk to her.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'd love to, where is she.\n CECILIA\n If I had to guess - London.\n BLOMKVIST\n You don't know where your own sister\n lives?\n\n CECILIA\n ","one's called you?\n\n ANITA\n About.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Your cousin.\n\n She has two, but doesn't ask which -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Martin.\n\n ANITA\n What about him?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n He died last Thursday. A car\n accident. I'm sorry.\n (nothing from her)\n There's going to be","That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\n\n SALANDER\n Okay, what.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I was just thinking, there could be\n one other possibility.\n\n248 OMIT: INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - NIGHT 248\n249 INT. INVESTMENT BANK - LONDON - DAY 249\n\n Blomkvist taps on Anita'",".\n\n ANITA\n What do you understand?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n That you don't really care for any of\n your relatives. Still, I thought you\n should know.\n\n ANITA\n Now I know.\n\n And now, she closes the door.\n 142.\n 142.\n \n\n244 OMIT: INT. ANITA'S HOUSE - LOND","Thursday. A car\n accident. I'm sorry.\n (nothing from her)\n There's going to be a memorial in\n Hedestad. I know you haven't been\n back there in a long time, but -\n ANITA\n I'm not interested in any memorial.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I understand.\n\n ANITA\n What do you understand?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n That you don"," ANITA\nShe was messed up. Like all us\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\nfather. At least hers wasn't a Nazi\nlike mine.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nWas he abusive?\n\n ANITA\nMine?\n BLOMKVIST\nHers.\n 52.\n 52.\n \n\n ANITA\n I never saw it myself, but you could\n tell something was going on. One day\n she'","The accent is all British. She's been here much longer\n than her home country. No trace of Swedish anymore. He\n offers his hand -\n\n BLOMKVIST\n I'm Mikael.\n\n ANITA\n Mikael. How do you do.\n\n As he sits, she regards him a little more carefully ...\n\n ANITA\n You're looking for investment\n counseling, Mikael?\n BLOMKVIST\n I would if had any money to invest.","\npoliceman - when it happened.\n BLOMKVIST\nMorell.\n\n ANITA\nMy recollections then were a lot\nbetter than they are now.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nI'm not speaking of the crime itself.\nI'm trying to get a clearer sense of\nwhat Harriet was like. Particularly,\ntoward the end.\n\n ANITA\nShe was messed up. Like all us\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\nfather. At least hers","it really matter what her name\n is?\n\n BLOMKVIST\n It would if I wanted to speak to her,\n which I do.\n ARMANSKY\n Against policy.\n BLOMKVIST\n You sure?\n\n ARMANSKY\n Just like your sources. You\n understand.\n BLOMKVIST\n Let me give you a name then.\n\n He jots \"Annika Giannini\" on one of Armansky's Post-I","BLOMKVIST\n He was my age then, and so couldn't\n know what was really going on with a\n teenager any more than I can with my\n own daughter. You were her age.\n 46.\n 46.\n \n\n CECILIA\n Actually, my sister Anita was closer\n to her in age.\n\nINSERT of the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\nwas about 17 years old.\n\n CECILIA\n She","ANITA\n Everyone knows what.\n BLOMKVIST\n But you have no ... thoughts about\n why, or who.\n ANITA\n All I know is I always felt sorry\n for her. Even more than for myself.\n I got out of there when I was 18 and\n never went back. She would have done\n the same but didn't make it to 18.\n96 EXT. STOCKHOLM - DAY 96\n\n Salander, on","\nI wouldn't know where to start, if\nthat was a question.\n\n BLOMKVIST\nI can narrow it. I've gotten up to\nthe 1960s. To the event that altered\neverything in Henrik's life.\n ANITA\nHarriet.\n (he nods)\nEverything I knew about that I told\nto - whatever his name was - that\npoliceman - when it happened.\n BLOMKVIST\nMorell.\n\n ANITA\nMy recollections","Behind her, Harriet packs a few items of clothing.\n\n ANITA\n Don't take anything.\n Harriet puts the clothes back. Picks up her purse.\n\n ANITA\n Leave that, too.\n\n256 INT. VANGER MANOR - NIGHT - 1966 256\n\n The dinner that night. Vanger noticing Harriet's empty\n chair. And Anita saying nothing, taking a bite of food.\n\n257 EXT","s.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Is she's alive, there's only one\n person in this family who would know\n where she is.\n\n He takes the photo of Anita down from the wall.\n\n239 INT. HOSPITAL - DAY 239\n Henrik sits in one of the chairs. Blomkvist in another.\n Salander prefers to stand. Eventually -\n VANGER\n Poor Martin.\n\n Clearly, he hasn",". He checks a scribbled floor plan of\n the manor and sees that it's Harriet's bedroom.\n\n But he's not sure if it's Harriet. The figure is too\n soft to identify - even with a magnifying glass - but is\n wearing a light-colored dress and has light hair.\n He glances to the family tree on the wall - the teenage\n Vanger girls' photos -\n\n Three INSERTS: Harriet ... Cecelia ... Anita ...\n\n They all have light hair, and","hung me\n from a hook ... Harriet.\n250 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 250\n They sit together on a park bench.\n\n BLOMKVIST\n Anita married in Stockholm in 1967.\n It's recorded in the Swedish General\n Register. But the family never knew,\n did they.\n (she confirms that with a\n shake of her head)\n I'm guessing she then","car outside her father Harald's\n house. Drives down the road toward the bridge.\n ANITA\n Stay absolutely still.\n\n The blanket covering Harriet on the backseat floorboard\n moves slightly, then is still.\n A policeman on the island side of the bridge waves the\n car across it. As it heads along the mainland service\n road toward the highway -\n HARRIET V/O\n She saved me.\n\n258 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"omkvist.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Do you want to stop?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I have police reports, photos,\\n Henrik's notes, my own notes, and\\n Lisbeth's research. What I don't\\n have are Vanger Industries records.\\n That's what I want.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Why?\\n\\nBlomkvist doesn't say. Only -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Will you authorize it?\\n\",\n \"an investment in\\n the magazine.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I gather. Why would you want to do\\n that?\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Not for the return, that's for sure.\\n\\n VANGER\\n (to Erika)\\n I feel bad that I've take Mikael\\n away from you at the worst possible\\n time. This is the right thing to do.\\n The moral thing. That's one reason.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n And.\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n VANGER\\n - studying their reports and\\n interviews, all the information there\\n was, and it's a lot. I've spent half\\n my life examining the events of a\\n single day.\\n And for all that, he's no closer to the truth.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I understand your frustration.\\n But what you're asking me to do is\\n a waste of money.\\n VANGER\\n We haven't discussed your fee.\\n BLOM\",\n \"/S\\n Mr. Blomkvist?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Yes.\\n\\n FRODE O/S\\n Forgive me for intruding on your\\n Christmas. My name is Dirch Frode.\\n I'm an attorney. I represent Henrik\\n Vanger. Perhaps you've heard of\\n (him) -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Of course.\\n FRODE O/S\\n He'd like to speak to you about a\\n private matter.\",\n \"to do is\\n a waste of money.\\n VANGER\\n We haven't discussed your fee.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n We don't need to. I can't find\\n something you haven't been able to\\n in forty years.\\n\\n VANGER\\n You don't know that. You have a\\n very keen investigative mind.\\n\\n Blomkvist wonders why he ever agreed to come here as\\n Vanger refills his wine glass.\\n VANGER\\n Here\",\n \"MKVIST\\n You want me to set aside my life\\n and career for something that's a\\n complete waste of time.\\n\\n VANGER\\n Think of it as a well deserved\\n vacation. A way of avoiding all the\\n people you want to avoid right now.\\n (nothing from Blomkvist)\\n As for compensation, I'll pay you\\n twice your salary for as many months\\n as it takes. I'll quadruple it if\\n you solve the mystery.\\n 26.\",\n \"\\n FRODE\\n A Scotch.\\nBlomkvist pours him one, and another for himself.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I don't want to be indelicate. But\\n Henrik promised me something when I\\n agreed to do this.\\n FRODE\\n Wennerstrom.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n (nods)\\n I need to know what he has on him.\\n Now. In case.\\n\\n FRODE\\n In case he\",\n \"ANGER\\n I'm not obsessed with the declining\\n health of the company, but I am with\\n the settling of accounts - and the\\n clock is ticking. I need your help.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Doing.\\n\\n VANGER\\n Officially, assisting me with my\\n memoirs. But what you'd really be\\n doing is solving a mystery. And\\n you'd do that by doing what you do so\\n well - this recent legal mishap of\\n yours\",\n \"omkvist wonders why he ever agreed to come here as\\n Vanger refills his wine glass.\\n VANGER\\n Here's what I propose: You come\\n stay on the island. I have a nice\\n little cottage by the water you can\\n use. You study the material I give\\n you. You find something I've missed\\n - or you don't.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You want me to set aside my life\\n and career for something that's a\\n complete waste of time.\\n\",\n \"my partner, Henrik. She should\\n stay.\\n A tiny, tiny, tiny smile finds its way to her face at the\\n mention of the word `partner.'\\n\\n VANGER\\n What have you found?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm not sure.\\n\\n VANGER\\n Don't treat me like a child. Tell\\n me.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I can't. I don't know. \",\n \"If I had, I never\\n would have let him bring you up here.\\n But he wasn't trying to deceive you.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Come on, he knows you can't try\\n somebody for this 35 years later. I\\n like Henrik, but he knows that.\\n Frode disagrees -\\n\\n FRODE\\n A man's reputation used to mean\\n something - he still believes that.\\n I'm sure he thought you could destroy\\n Wennerstrom with this\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n ISABELLA\\n No, you can't check. You can\\n instruct him to pack his things and\\n leave.\\n MARTIN\\n Mother -\\n ISABELLA\\n Don't use that tone with me.\\n (to Blomkvist)\\n This family's had enough tragedy\\n without you dredging it all up again.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Actually, Isabella, Mr. Blomkvist\\n works for Henrik.\\n ISABELLA\\n\",\n \"\\n VANGER\\n She was bright and curious, a\\n winning combination in any person.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n And beautiful.\\n Vanger nods as he regards the photo ...\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Something happened to her?\\n\\n Vanger nods again; is silent for several moments ...\\n VANGER\\n Someone in the family murdered\\n Harriet and for the last forty years\\n has been trying to drive me insane.\\n33 OMIT:\",\n \"family.\\n 45.\\n 45.\\n \\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's not about the family. It's\\n about Henrik and the company.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n Like I said.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's not my intention to present a\\n malicious portrait of anyone.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n Unlike the one that landed you in\\n court.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Unlike\",\n \"up in the yard by the water, interviewing\\n Henrik and Martin. Under his suit jacket Henrik wears a\\n cheerful yellow shirt. Birger unhappily looks on.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Millennium is an excellent magazine.\\n We also think it's undervalued right\\n now, which is good business for us.\\n\\n REPORTER 3\\n Is any magazine really undervalued\\n today. How many will be around\\n tomorrow?\\n\\n VANGER\\n\",\n \" interested.\\n\\n He is.\\n108 INT. VANGER MANOR - EVENING 108\\n\\n Vanger and Martin all but ignore Blomkvist as they chat\\n with Erika over dinner. They seem charmed by her.\\n\\n VANGER\\n I apologize if you're having\\n financial problems at the magazine\\n in Mikael's absence.\\n ERIKA\\n We'll work through them.\\n VANGER\\n Are you\",\n \" The island is owned by my family.\\n Your closest neighbor is my brother\\n Harald, another Nazi if you can\\n believe. Two in the family. He's\\n detestable to put it nicely, but\\n you'll probably never see him. He's\\n a recluse.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n He was there that day?\\n\\n VANGER\\n Indeed he was.\\n\\n Vanger's look to Blomkvist adds, `so consider him a\\n suspect.' He indicates another\",\n \" 109.\\n 109.\\n \\n\\n FRODE\\n He's not well enough to ask.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'd be happy to sign a nondisclosure\\n statement, if that helps you.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Excuse us a moment.\\n\\n Frode and Martin step away to confer in private.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n I think Henrik would say yes.\\n FRODE\",\n \"kvist gathers, to be considered a\\nsuspect. Vanger points off -\\n VANGER\\n He lives over there.\\n\\nShivering in the cold, Blomkvist turns.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n And you live here.\\n\\n VANGER\\n Sorry?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Your house.\\n\\nFor a moment, Vanger isn't sure what Blomkvist means.\\nThen he is, and is pleased by it.\\n 33.\\n\",\n \"wants,\\n and we know what he wants.\\n ISABELLA\\n Henrik - is in there fighting for\\n his life. This -\\n (points to Blomkvist like\\n he's an object)\\n - is the last thing he needs.\\n\\nA nurse chooses this - the absolute worst time - to\\napproach Isabella.\\n 87.\\n 87.\\n \\n\\n NURSE O/S\\n Excuse me, Mrs. Vanger, you\"\n ],\n [\n \"'t be her, but it is a teenage girl who\\n resembles the old pictures of her. Seeing him, she\\n waves. It's his daughter.\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n Hi.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Hi. What are you doing here?\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n On my way to Skelleftea. I can only\\n stay a couple hours.\\n He arrives and gives her a hug.\\n 71.\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Light of - what?\\n (she doesn't repeat it)\\n What is that?\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n You think it's all senseless but it\\n isn't. It's more natural to believe\\n in something than not to.\\n\\nShe begins eating. Blomkvist stares at her, feeling a\\nlittle sick. A cell phone rings. No one can tell - as\\nyou never can - whose it is, and so all pull them out.\\nIt's\",\n \"you\\n want to do is fine. Everybody needs\\n something.\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n Just so long as it's not God.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I didn't say that.\\n\\n As they eat in silence, Blomkvist can't help but think\\n about Harriet and what Vanger said about not giving her\\n his attention when she needed it.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm not around enough to know\\n everything that's going on with you,\",\n \" INT. COTTAGE - DAY 129B\\n\\n He's made them some coffee, and, of course, sandwiches.\\n Patiently waits for her to finish her silent prayer, and\\n smiles bravely.\\n PERNILLA\\n They're not dangerous.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's fine, Nilla. Whatever you\\n want to do is fine. Everybody needs\\n something.\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n Just so long as it'\",\n \"ILLA\\n Don't go too hard on the Catholics.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What?\\n PERNILLA\\n The article you're writing.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What are you talking (about) -\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n The Bible quotes on your desk.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What?\\n\\n The train clears the platform. He watches after it.\\n What was she talking about? He glances\",\n \", passing platters\\n around. Blomkvist notices his daughter's head is bowed\\n in silent prayer.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nilla? What are you doing?\\n PERNILLA\\n Nothing.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n (pause)\\n You're not serious.\\n 13.\\n 13.\\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\\n\\n PERNIL\",\n \"\\n 72.\\n 72.\\n \\n\\n He nods but doesn't believe it any more than she believes\\n he's okay with Bible Camp. She climbs aboard. Waves.\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n Bye.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Bye.\\n The train begins to move.\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n Don't go too hard on the Catholics.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What?\",\n \" PERNILLA\\n About all that money.\\n 12.\\n 12.\\n \\n\\n20 INT. SODER HOSPITAL - STOCKHOLM - NIGHT 20\\n\\n Outside the ICU, Salander sits on the floor like a dog\\n who won't leave the spot its master told it to wait. For\\n the first time since we've met her, she looks vulnerable.\\n The doors swing open. A doctor steps out. Salander gets\\n up\",\n \"\\n 13.\\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n I don't want to talk about it since\\n I know you won't approve.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Of -\\n (she doesn't say)\\n Nilla.\\n PERNILLA\\n Light of Life.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Light of - what?\\n (she doesn't repeat it)\\n What is\",\n \" It is. She lives with me.\\n MORELL\\n Are her parents alive?\\n VANGER\\n Her mother is.\\n\\n Vanger points Isabella out. Slender, overdressed and\\n smoking a Sobranie, she immediately strikes Morell as a\\n woman as venomous as she is beautiful.\\n VANGER\\n This way.\\n Morell follows Vanger down a hall -\\n\\n INTERCUT: Blomkvist reads, \\\"Approx. 12:05,\",\n \" Indeed he was.\\n\\n Vanger's look to Blomkvist adds, `so consider him a\\n suspect.' He indicates another house on the grounds -\\n VANGER\\n That's his daughter Cecilia's house.\\n They don't speak.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Does anyone speak to anyone on this\\n island?\\n\\n VANGER\\n Actually, Isabella - Harriet's mother\\n - who lives there -\\n (points)\\n - she speaks to Harald\",\n \"I can only\\n stay a couple hours.\\n He arrives and gives her a hug.\\n 71.\\n 71.\\n \\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What's in Skelleftea?\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n Light of Life Bible Camp.\\n Blomkvist tries to hide his dismay.\\n129B INT. COTTAGE - DAY 129B\\n\\n He's made them some coffee, and, of course\",\n \"doing.\\n\\n129C EXT. TRAIN STATION - HEDESTAD - DAY 129C\\n The afternoon train is boarding. It's not crowded.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It should have been me visiting you.\\n I'm sorry.\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n It's okay. Everything's good.\\n 72.\\n 72.\\n \\n\\n He nods but doesn't believe it any more\",\n \".\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm not around enough to know\\n everything that's going on with you,\\n and I apologize for that. But I'd\\n never want you to not tell me\\n something, even if you think I might\\n not want to hear it.\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n (smiles)\\n That's what I'm doing.\\n\\n129C EXT. TRAIN STATION - HEDESTAD - DAY 129C\\n\",\n \" She wants to look at everything. I\\n don't like her and I don't trust her.\\n There's something wrong with her.\\n FRODE\\n Hang on a second -\\n (to Martin)\\n I'm going to let you decide. It's\\n Ms. Lindgren again.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n (takes the phone)\\n Yes, Ingrid, what's the problem?\\n LINDGREN V/O\\n This\",\n \". Leviticus 4:32 -\\n\\n HARRIET/PERNILLA\\n If a man's offering is a lamb, it\\n shall be a female without blemish. He\\n shall lay his hand upon it's head\\n ...slaughter it... empty it's blood\\n on the base of the altar ... and he\\n shall be forgiven.\\n\\n162 EXT. UDDEVALLA- DAY 162\\n\\n Another police station.\\n\\n162A \",\n \"\\n Blomkvist knocks on the door. Anita pulls it open.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's me. Sorry to bother you.\\n\\n She doesn't invite him in, but doesn't shut the door in\\n his face either.\\n ANITA\\n What do you want?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n No one's called you?\\n\\n ANITA\\n About.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n\\n ISABELLA\\n No, you can't check. You can\\n instruct him to pack his things and\\n leave.\\n MARTIN\\n Mother -\\n ISABELLA\\n Don't use that tone with me.\\n (to Blomkvist)\\n This family's had enough tragedy\\n without you dredging it all up again.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Actually, Isabella, Mr. Blomkvist\\n works for Henrik.\\n ISABELLA\\n\",\n \" It's doubtful there's a stranger Christmas gathering\\n going on anywhere in the world. Standing around with\\n eggnog are:\\n 11.\\n 11.\\n \\n\\nBlomkvist; his teenage daughter Pernilla; his sister\\nAnnika and her Italian husband; Erika and her weirdly\\nunderstanding artist husband Greger, whose arm is around\\nher waist; a few other friends (and perhaps lovers).\\n GREGER\\n You needed a better attorney. You\\n needed your sister.\",\n \"BLOMKVIST\\n He was my age then, and so couldn't\\n know what was really going on with a\\n teenager any more than I can with my\\n own daughter. You were her age.\\n 46.\\n 46.\\n \\n\\n CECILIA\\n Actually, my sister Anita was closer\\n to her in age.\\n\\nINSERT of the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\\nwas about 17 years old.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n She\"\n ],\n [\n \"omkvist.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Do you want to stop?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I have police reports, photos,\\n Henrik's notes, my own notes, and\\n Lisbeth's research. What I don't\\n have are Vanger Industries records.\\n That's what I want.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Why?\\n\\nBlomkvist doesn't say. Only -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Will you authorize it?\\n\",\n \"\\n FRODE\\n A Scotch.\\nBlomkvist pours him one, and another for himself.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I don't want to be indelicate. But\\n Henrik promised me something when I\\n agreed to do this.\\n FRODE\\n Wennerstrom.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n (nods)\\n I need to know what he has on him.\\n Now. In case.\\n\\n FRODE\\n In case he\",\n \"an investment in\\n the magazine.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I gather. Why would you want to do\\n that?\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Not for the return, that's for sure.\\n\\n VANGER\\n (to Erika)\\n I feel bad that I've take Mikael\\n away from you at the worst possible\\n time. This is the right thing to do.\\n The moral thing. That's one reason.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n And.\\n \",\n \"/S\\n Mr. Blomkvist?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Yes.\\n\\n FRODE O/S\\n Forgive me for intruding on your\\n Christmas. My name is Dirch Frode.\\n I'm an attorney. I represent Henrik\\n Vanger. Perhaps you've heard of\\n (him) -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Of course.\\n FRODE O/S\\n He'd like to speak to you about a\\n private matter.\",\n \"MKVIST\\n You want me to set aside my life\\n and career for something that's a\\n complete waste of time.\\n\\n VANGER\\n Think of it as a well deserved\\n vacation. A way of avoiding all the\\n people you want to avoid right now.\\n (nothing from Blomkvist)\\n As for compensation, I'll pay you\\n twice your salary for as many months\\n as it takes. I'll quadruple it if\\n you solve the mystery.\\n 26.\",\n \".\\n\\n VANGER\\n - studying their reports and\\n interviews, all the information there\\n was, and it's a lot. I've spent half\\n my life examining the events of a\\n single day.\\n And for all that, he's no closer to the truth.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I understand your frustration.\\n But what you're asking me to do is\\n a waste of money.\\n VANGER\\n We haven't discussed your fee.\\n BLOM\",\n \"to do is\\n a waste of money.\\n VANGER\\n We haven't discussed your fee.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n We don't need to. I can't find\\n something you haven't been able to\\n in forty years.\\n\\n VANGER\\n You don't know that. You have a\\n very keen investigative mind.\\n\\n Blomkvist wonders why he ever agreed to come here as\\n Vanger refills his wine glass.\\n VANGER\\n Here\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n ISABELLA\\n No, you can't check. You can\\n instruct him to pack his things and\\n leave.\\n MARTIN\\n Mother -\\n ISABELLA\\n Don't use that tone with me.\\n (to Blomkvist)\\n This family's had enough tragedy\\n without you dredging it all up again.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Actually, Isabella, Mr. Blomkvist\\n works for Henrik.\\n ISABELLA\\n\",\n \"If I had, I never\\n would have let him bring you up here.\\n But he wasn't trying to deceive you.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Come on, he knows you can't try\\n somebody for this 35 years later. I\\n like Henrik, but he knows that.\\n Frode disagrees -\\n\\n FRODE\\n A man's reputation used to mean\\n something - he still believes that.\\n I'm sure he thought you could destroy\\n Wennerstrom with this\",\n \"ANGER\\n I'm not obsessed with the declining\\n health of the company, but I am with\\n the settling of accounts - and the\\n clock is ticking. I need your help.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Doing.\\n\\n VANGER\\n Officially, assisting me with my\\n memoirs. But what you'd really be\\n doing is solving a mystery. And\\n you'd do that by doing what you do so\\n well - this recent legal mishap of\\n yours\",\n \"family.\\n 45.\\n 45.\\n \\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's not about the family. It's\\n about Henrik and the company.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n Like I said.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's not my intention to present a\\n malicious portrait of anyone.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n Unlike the one that landed you in\\n court.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Unlike\",\n \" 109.\\n 109.\\n \\n\\n FRODE\\n He's not well enough to ask.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'd be happy to sign a nondisclosure\\n statement, if that helps you.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Excuse us a moment.\\n\\n Frode and Martin step away to confer in private.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n I think Henrik would say yes.\\n FRODE\",\n \"wants,\\n and we know what he wants.\\n ISABELLA\\n Henrik - is in there fighting for\\n his life. This -\\n (points to Blomkvist like\\n he's an object)\\n - is the last thing he needs.\\n\\nA nurse chooses this - the absolute worst time - to\\napproach Isabella.\\n 87.\\n 87.\\n \\n\\n NURSE O/S\\n Excuse me, Mrs. Vanger, you\",\n \"re looking for investment\\n counseling, Mikael?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I would if had any money to invest.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Excuse me?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm writing a biography of your\\n uncle Henrik. That's why I'm here.\\n She stares at him. He waits for the response Cecilia\\n predicted, but it doesn't come.\\n95 EXT. CAFE - LONDON - DAY \",\n \" interested.\\n\\n He is.\\n108 INT. VANGER MANOR - EVENING 108\\n\\n Vanger and Martin all but ignore Blomkvist as they chat\\n with Erika over dinner. They seem charmed by her.\\n\\n VANGER\\n I apologize if you're having\\n financial problems at the magazine\\n in Mikael's absence.\\n ERIKA\\n We'll work through them.\\n VANGER\\n Are you\",\n \"my partner, Henrik. She should\\n stay.\\n A tiny, tiny, tiny smile finds its way to her face at the\\n mention of the word `partner.'\\n\\n VANGER\\n What have you found?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm not sure.\\n\\n VANGER\\n Don't treat me like a child. Tell\\n me.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I can't. I don't know. \",\n \"\\n VANGER\\n She was bright and curious, a\\n winning combination in any person.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n And beautiful.\\n Vanger nods as he regards the photo ...\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Something happened to her?\\n\\n Vanger nods again; is silent for several moments ...\\n VANGER\\n Someone in the family murdered\\n Harriet and for the last forty years\\n has been trying to drive me insane.\\n33 OMIT:\",\n \"\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n All the way.\\n\\nFrode exchanges a look with Martin.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Henrik said I have access to\\n everything I need. This is what I\\n need.\\n\\n FRODE\\n That's not what he meant.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Let's ask him.\\n 109.\\n 109.\\n \\n\\n FRODE\\n He's\",\n \")\\n I need to know what he has on him.\\n Now. In case.\\n\\n FRODE\\n In case he dies? That is indelicate.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n And I apologize.\\n\\n FRODE\\n I don't know what he has on him, if\\n you're asking me. And he can't tell\\n you in the condition he's in. So ...\\n is that it then?\\nSilence. Blomkvist drinks. Eventually -\\n\\n \",\n \"ERIKA\\n This time I do want to know.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I have access to his computer, and\\n his accountants' and lawyers'.\\n\\n She isn't happy to hear that explanation.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n And how do you have that?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I could have gotten it from a source\\n inside the company.\\n ERIKA\\n But you didn't.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n But that's\"\n ],\n [\n \"SALANDER\\n I've been on my own since I was\\n twelve.\\n BJURMAN\\n No. You've been a persistent burden\\n to the State since you were twelve.\\n\\n She won't look at him any more - not that there's\\n anything even remotely interesting to see if she did.\\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\\n Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\\n Because this is important.\\n She does ... in a way that says, I\",\n \"watching him. Is she actually there, or\\n part of a dream? He looks at her a long moment, then\\n tries out his voice -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n How is it someone who's 23 is a ward\\n of the state?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I'm mentally incompetent and can't\\n manage daily life.\\n\\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\\n\\n BLOMKV\",\n \"MAN\\n Do you think that ring in your eyelid\\n makes you attractive?\\n\\nSalander, who's had to suffer insufferable officials all\\nher life, doesn't dignify the question with an answer.\\n BJURMAN\\n Here's the problem. There a\\n discrepancy between the obligation of\\n Mr. Palmgren's guardianship and the\\n management of your finances.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\\n It was clear to him I\",\n \"ances.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\\n It was clear to him I could manage my\\n own finances.\\n BJURMAN\\n But that's not clear to me.\\n SALANDER\\n I'm not a child.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n No. You're not.\\n (looks at her too long)\\n But you were. And between then and\\n now -\\n (indicating the files)\\n\",\n \"- DAY 66A\\n\\n\\n67 INT. PALMGREN'S APARTMENT - DAY 67\\n\\n A nurse takes a tray away, leaving Salander alone with\\n Palmgren, separated by the chess table they won't playing\\n a game on. She wipes his mouth with her sleeve.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I got a call from social welfare.\\n I've been assigned a new guardian.\\n\\n It's unlikely he understands what she has said.\",\n \" Silence. Armansky tries not to look sick. Then -\\n 78.\\n 78.\\n \\n\\n ARMANSKY\\n The reason you can find no record of\\n her is because her records have been\\n sealed. She's a ward of the State.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What does that have to do with\\n anything.\\n ARMANSKY\\n She's had a rough life. Can we not\\n \",\n \". Leave\\n the keys with the guard.\\n\\n The woman leaves. Her footsteps echo and fade. Salander\\n reads a yellowed clipping from a Landskrona newspaper:\\n 116.\\n 116.\\n \\n\\n It's about Vanger Industries hiring a local contractor,\\n Carlen Construction, to build a plant. Gottfried Vanger -\\n here to sign the contract.\\n\\n But all that really interests Salander is the date. The\\n article was published one day\",\n \" BJURMAN\\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\\n (nothing from Salander)\\n Terrible.\\n\\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\\n through her file -\\n BJURMAN\\n What exactly do you do at this\\n security company?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Make coffee and sort mail.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n But not full-time. Not even part\",\n \".\\n And that troubles him still, that he never solved it.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n How exactly was she killed?\\n\\n DET. ISAKSSON\\n Miss - I'm sorry -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Salander.\\n DET. ISAKSSON\\n Miss Salander, if you don't mind my\\n asking, when's the last time you ate?\\n 85.\\n 85.\\n \\n\\n SALAND\",\n \"a\\n fool did he make of himself\\n financially?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n The judgement will just about empty\\n his savings.\\nThis seems to please Frode more than anything else that\\nhas been said, and Salander sees it.\\n SALANDER\\n May I go?\\n\\n FRODE\\n Your report is light in another\\n area. His personal life. Anything\\n you chose not to include?\\n SALANDER\\n Nothing that warranted inclusion.\\n\\n FRODE\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Since when have they said that.\\n SALANDER\\n Since I was twelve.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Something happened when you were\\n twelve?\\n\\n She doesn't say. Just studies him ...\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's all right, you don't have to\\n tell me anything\",\n \"was stupid. I got something from\\n an anonymous source, who I'm sure now\\n worked for him. It was fake. Which\\n he easily proved in court.\\n Not a good day, that. Then -\\n SALANDER\\n You were emphatic that the way I\\n looked into your life was illegal and\\n immoral. Would you feel the same\\n about Wennerstrom?\\n\\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\\n SALANDER\\n I\",\n \"Salander. Bjurman seems a\\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\\n 66.\\n 66.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I need more money. I need to pay my\\n rent.\\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Come on in.\",\n \" Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\\n Because this is important.\\n She does ... in a way that says, I'd like to kill you.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n This behavior you're displaying\\n right now is elaborately documented\\n here -\\n (in the file)\\n - so it would come as a shock to no\\n one if I chose an alternative to the\\n lenient arrangement I just outlined.\\n Is that what you're saying with your\\n \",\n \"SALANDER\\n I will kill you.\\nAnd he knows she means it.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Do you doubt anything I've said?\\n (he shakes his head no)\\n Do you doubt what's in the reports\\n about me? What do they say when\\n you sum them up? They say I'm\\n insane.\\n (he shakes his head no)\\n No, it okay. You can nod because\\n it's true. I am insane.\\n\\nShe gets up off him, rummages\",\n \".\\n SALANDER\\n She was raped and stabbed, but the\\n cause of death was suffocation with a\\n sanitary napkin. R.L. Rakel Lunde,\\n 1957 -\\nSalander brings up more crime photos -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Cleaning woman and part-time palm\\n reader, tied up with a clothesline,\\n gagged, raped, head crushed with a\\n rock. Leviticus 20:27.\\n\\n BLOMKV\",\n \"\\n you chose not to include?\\n SALANDER\\n Nothing that warranted inclusion.\\n\\n FRODE\\n I'm not sure if that means yes or no.\\n\\n ARMANSKY\\n I think what Ms. Salander means, and\\n I agree, is that everyone has a right\\n to a certain amount of privacy, even\\n when they're being investigated.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Not in this case. I have to know\\n if there's anything about him I might\\n find unsav\",\n \"ander\\n brought from Martin's chamber of horrors late last night:\\n\\n A scrapbook of murder. A death book. Photos of women\\n cowering in his cage, tied to the bed, dead on the table -\\n along with souvenirs of painted fingernails and locks of\\n hair - all carefully taped into the `album.' The older\\n photographs are Polaroids; the newer ones digital prints.\\n With little to no discernible emotion, Salander watches\\n Frode wince as he turns the pages.\\n\\n Frode can\",\n \"the first time since we've met her, she looks vulnerable.\\n The doors swing open. A doctor steps out. Salander gets\\n up to hear his report -\\n\\n DOCTOR\\n You're Mr. Palmgren's daughter?\\n SALANDER\\n His ward. He doesn't have a\\n daughter.\\n\\n The doctor isn't sure then if he should talk to her.\\n SALANDER\\n Please.\\n21 INT. ICU - SODER HOSPITAL\",\n \"-\\n SALANDER\\n (again on his last word)\\n Lea Persson, 1962 -\\n\\n A photo of a pretty girl in riding jodhpurs, petting a\\n horse, and several more of her dead naked body on a wet\\n cement floor surrounded by tropical fish.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Found by her sister in their pet\\n shop - raped, beaten. The killer\\n uncaged the animals, smashed the\\n aquariums. There was a parake\"\n ],\n [\n \"omkvist who only witnessed part\\nof the spectacle before losing consciousness -\\n\\nShe saws through the leather strap around his neck.\\nUnlocks the chain. As he sinks to his knees on the\\nfloor, blood rushes to his head, bringing him back to\\nlife just enough to see what she can't behind her -\\n\\nMartin, blood streaming from the gash in his head,\\ngetting to his feet. But he's not coming at them; he's\\ntrying to get out -\\n\\nBlomkvist tries to say her name to get her\",\n \"\\n\\n LIV\\n I found him at death's door halfway\\n up the hill.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm afraid I'm a bit out of shape.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n No, it's a climb for anyone. I\\n should've warned you. Come on in.\\n\\n Blomkvist puts a bottle of aquavit in Martin's hand.\\n82 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 82\\n\\n The place is far\",\n \"have a flashlight? I'll\\n give you one.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I just wasn't being careful.\\n\\n Martin smiles, but Blomkvist isn't sure what he said\\n warrants one. Martin begins rummaging through a drawer\\n for a flashlight. The knife block - with one missing -\\n is right there.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n How's the investigation?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nothing new to report.\\n\\n Blom\",\n \" moment later, Blomkvist hears a sound of tires on gravel.\\n Martin is back, and Blomkvist is in his house.\\n\\n We rush back down the hall with Blomkvist. Hopefully\\n Martin will enter through the front door because we're\\n going to try to get out the back one -\\n\\n Blomkvist trips over something in the dark and we go down\\n with him. Then up again - through the kitchen - past the\\n basement door - grabs a knife from a drawer - shoves it\\n in a\",\n \"him. Then up again - through the kitchen - past the\\n basement door - grabs a knife from a drawer - shoves it\\n in a back pocket - hurries out the rear door -\\n\\n219 EXT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS 219\\n Blomkvist tries to steady his breathing as he slinks\\n around the side of the house. As he passes a window, it\\n lights up - and we again hit the ground with him.\\n He hurries across the yard, trips over something in\",\n \"go hunting.\\n\\nMartin pulls open a bar drawer and takes from it a\\nhandgun.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n A gun. Rather than a knife.\\n\\nHe gives a little gesture with it to the handle of the\\nknife protruding from a back pocket of Blomkvist's jeans.\\nThere are fresh drops of blood on the floor next to his\\nshoes.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n You just couldn't stay away, could\\n you.\\n\\nBlomkvist doesn't know what to say. Martin's\",\n \".\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I suppose I am.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n To have dinner. With your\\n girlfriend.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n My assistant. Yes.\\n MARTIN\\n We'll have better luck with a gun.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Sorry?\\n MARTIN\\n When we go hunting.\\n\\nMartin pulls open a bar drawer and takes from it a\\nhandgun.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n A gun\",\n \"KVIST\\n What's happened?\\n MARTIN\\n We were talking. He started\\n rubbing at his arm. Then collapsed.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Is he (conscious) -\\n MARTIN\\n I can't talk, Mikael, I have to (go) -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Go.\\n\\n Martin pulls out to follow the ambulance to the hospital.\\n Blomkvist watches after them.\\n\\n134 \",\n \"lifts him\\n onto his tiptoes.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n What happened to her.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You're choking me -\\n MARTIN\\n You found her?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You killed her.\\n\\n Martin just stares at him confused. Then -\\n\\n MARTIN\\n You useless fuckin detective.\\n 132.\\n 132.\\n \\n\\nHe\",\n \"218E\\n\\n The headlights come up the road leading to the point.\\n218F INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 218F\\n\\n Blomkvist approaches a gun case in the study. Hunting\\n rifles. Three of them - and an empty space for a fourth\\n one.\\n\\n The trees outside the study window flare with light. A\\n moment later, Blomkvist hears a sound of tires on gravel.\\n Martin is back, and Blomkvist is in his\",\n \". Salander climbs off it and\\nshoulders a duffel bag. Blomkvist seems surprised to see\\nher.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Lisbeth, this is Martin Vanger.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n How do you do.\\n SALANDER\\n Fine.\\nShe comes past them without another word. Martin can't\\nhelp noticing her wasp and handcuff tattoos. Looks after\\nher as she disappears into the cottage. It's hard to\\nbelieve, but he has to ask\",\n \"omkvist from behind back to the kitchen,\\n switching off lights as they go.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n You know what's harder than\\n shooting someone? Just missing\\n them. That was a very good shot\\n up at the cabin.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It didn't work. I'm here.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Mikael, it did work. You're here.\\n They come through a pantry, at the end of which is a\\n \",\n \"poncho. A painter's mask.\\nPlastic goggles. Surgeons gloves. Picks up a hunting\\nknife. Steps up to Blomkvist. Looks at his eyes.\\nBrings his own head close to his victim's -\\n MARTIN\\n Goodbye, Mikael.\\nHe pulls the strap, lifting Blomkvist's toes off the\\nfloor, closing off his air again ... and is about to gut\\nhim like a wild boar ... when he hears a sound like some\\nkind of animal behind him ...\\n\\nHe\",\n \"IN\\n How's the investigation?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nothing new to report.\\n\\n Blomkvist notices a drop of blood from his pantleg on\\n the stone floor and covers it up with his shoe. Martin,\\n not seeming to notice, finds a mini-Maglite in the\\n drawer.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Dirch says Ms. Salander is clever.\\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Maybe.\\n\",\n \" Trying to look like he's just out for a stroll,\\n Blomkvist walks past Martin's dark house, then turns\\n around, walks up the front path to the porch and makes a\\n show of knocking on the door, just in case anyone on the\\n island can see him, which is doubtful in this darkness.\\n He tries the door. Locked. Comes down off the porch as\\n if leaving, but then veers off the path and walks around\\n to the side of the house.\\n\\n He peers through a floor-\",\n \"Hi. How are you?\\n\\n Martin pulls a golf bag from his trunk and shoulders it.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n I stopped at the hospital on my way\\n home. Henrik asked me to ask you\\n something.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Come on in, I'll make you a drink.\\n\\n Naturally, this is the last thing Blomkvist wants to do,\\n but it would be more suspicious if he refuses. He heads\\n\",\n \"he goes.\\n 120.\\n 120.\\n \\n\\n MARTIN O/S\\n Hello? Mikael?\\n\\n Blomkvist stops. His heart pounds. Martin comes down\\n his porch and walks toward his car.\\n MARTIN\\n Your evening stroll?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Hi. How are you?\\n\\n Martin pulls a golf bag from his trunk and shoulders it.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n \",\n \"gs `okay,' gets up,\\ngoes to his workbench and takes a plastic shower curtain\\nfrom it. As he's laying it on the floor around his\\nvictim, Blomkvist changes his mind -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I found a picture no one had seen\\n before.\\n MARTIN\\n Of.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You. In your Uppsala prep school\\n blazer.\\n\\nMartin doesn't see the significance, but is pleased\\nBlom\",\n \"for the kill, but she veers\\n hard to one side, leaving him headed straight for the gas\\n station Blomkvist makes his pay phone calls from - and\\n the tanker truck parked there -\\n\\n Martin hits the brakes - hydroplanes into the truck - and\\n its, or his own tank, or both, explode -\\n Salander circles back. Regards the fire engulfing the\\n car. The rain does nothing to dampen it. She could\\n probably brave it to pull Martin out - but doesn't.\\n As the flames burn\",\n \"KVIST\\n Harriet?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I think so.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't look at the photos long. Sets them\\n down. Something's troubling him -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Martin didn't deny killing anyone.\\n But when I mentioned Harriet, he was\\n confused. He was angry - at me - for\\n not being able to tell him what\\n happened to her.\\n (pause)\\n He\"\n ],\n [\n \"he died.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Why didn't you tell someone?\\n HARRIET\\n I did. My mother.\\n\\n Blomkvist stares. Finally -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Henrik would have done something.\\n\\n HARRIET\\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\\n told him. But I was afraid because\",\n \".\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What did he think about that?\\n HARRIET\\n Nothing. Only that he loved her.\\n She said, If you love me, you'll do\\n this and not ask why. He never did.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n They both died twenty years ago.\\n\\n HARRIET\\n A car accident. You found that, too.\\n\\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\\n pocket -\",\n \"KVIST\\n Harriet?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I think so.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't look at the photos long. Sets them\\n down. Something's troubling him -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Martin didn't deny killing anyone.\\n But when I mentioned Harriet, he was\\n confused. He was angry - at me - for\\n not being able to tell him what\\n happened to her.\\n (pause)\\n He\",\n \"She moves off. Her friends look after\\n her confused. And then she's gone.\\n Blomkvist backs up to the frame of Harriet looking off\\n with fear in her eyes, and for the first time believes\\n without a doubt what Vanger has believed for 40 years:\\n\\n She was murdered. Whoever she saw across the street\\n followed her and killed her. The cat watches him.\\n126 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\\n\\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\",\n \" MORELL O/S\\n Of course I do, but what would it\\n have to do with anything?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nothing probably.\\n\\n As Blomkvist glances to the last page in Harriet's\\n address book, to R.J. 30114 -\\n\\n MORELL O/S\\n Jacobsson. Rebecka Jacobsson.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n How was she killed?\\n MORELL O\",\n \"\\npoliceman - when it happened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\nMorell.\\n\\n ANITA\\nMy recollections then were a lot\\nbetter than they are now.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nI'm not speaking of the crime itself.\\nI'm trying to get a clearer sense of\\nwhat Harriet was like. Particularly,\\ntoward the end.\\n\\n ANITA\\nShe was messed up. Like all us\\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\\nfather. At least hers\",\n \"t\\n because Harriet is indeed dead.\\n247 INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - LATER - NIGHT 247\\n\\n It's strange perhaps, but he does some of his best\\n thinking during sex -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I was just thinking. What if -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Ten more seconds.\\n That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Okay, what\",\n \". Which\\n I'd very much like to see if by some\\n miracle you still have them.\\n MILDRED\\n It wouldn't be a miracle. We were on\\n our honeymoon. But why?\\n\\n Blomkvist thinks about making something up. Decides not\\n to. Indicates Harriet in the photo -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n This girl was killed that day, soon\\n after seeing something across the\\n street that frightened her.\\n\\n MILDRED\\n How awful.\",\n \"she was very unhappy.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She never confided in you what about,\\n specifically?\\n ANITA\\n There was no specifically. It was\\n everything. It was being part of\\n that family. Henrik's the only\\n decent person in it.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What do you think happened to her?\\n\\n ANITA\\n Everyone knows what.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n But you have no ... thoughts about\\n why, or\",\n \"\\n VANGER\\n She was bright and curious, a\\n winning combination in any person.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n And beautiful.\\n Vanger nods as he regards the photo ...\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Something happened to her?\\n\\n Vanger nods again; is silent for several moments ...\\n VANGER\\n Someone in the family murdered\\n Harriet and for the last forty years\\n has been trying to drive me insane.\\n33 OMIT:\",\n \"\\nI wouldn't know where to start, if\\nthat was a question.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nI can narrow it. I've gotten up to\\nthe 1960s. To the event that altered\\neverything in Henrik's life.\\n ANITA\\nHarriet.\\n (he nods)\\nEverything I knew about that I told\\nto - whatever his name was - that\\npoliceman - when it happened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\nMorell.\\n\\n ANITA\\nMy recollections\",\n \" The Rebecka Case is something that\\n happened before Harriet was born.\\n I'm talking about the soul of a\\n policeman. Poor Torstensson could\\n never solve it, and could never let\\n it go.\\n And neither can poor Morell with his Harriet case.\\n78 EXT. STOCKHOLM - DAY 78\\n\\n An unexciting social welfare building.\\n\\n79 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - DAY 79\\n\\n As\",\n \" Indeed he was.\\n\\n Vanger's look to Blomkvist adds, `so consider him a\\n suspect.' He indicates another house on the grounds -\\n VANGER\\n That's his daughter Cecilia's house.\\n They don't speak.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Does anyone speak to anyone on this\\n island?\\n\\n VANGER\\n Actually, Isabella - Harriet's mother\\n - who lives there -\\n (points)\\n - she speaks to Harald\",\n \"this.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm not so sure.\\n\\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\\n FRODE\\n What do you mean?\\n 76.\\n 76.\\n\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I may have found something.\\n\\n FRODE\\n (pause)\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's\",\n \"\\n CECILIA\\n Unlike the one that landed you in\\n court.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Unlike that one. Correct.\\n CECILIA\\n So, what you're saying is, you're\\n not really here to look into what\\n happened to Harriet.\\n\\nSilence. Then -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I can't ignore such a dramatic event,\\n but no, that's not by any means my\\n focus.\\n CECIL\",\n \" well. She left early. But they also\\n said she kept secrets from them, too.\\n The main thing I learned talking to\\n them for hours is that teenage girls\\n are complicated.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I have one.\\n\\n MORELL\\n So you know.\\n (Blomkvist does indeed)\\n Did you bring the last gift Henrik\\n received?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's at the National Forensic Lab.\\n\\n MORELL\\n\",\n \".\\n 143.\\n \\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I was so she'd lead us to her.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Put your hand back on my shoulder.\\n He does. They watch the solitaire game together ...\\n SALANDER\\n There's only one reason she\\n wouldn't call Harriet. She can't\\n because Harriet is indeed dead.\\n247 INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - LATER -\",\n \" MORELL\\n And very bright. Henrik told me he\\n could easily imagine her running the\\n business someday, which would mean\\n someone else wouldn't.\\n\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She was with some friends that day.\\n At a parade. You must have talked to\\n them.\\n\\n MORELL\\n She told them she wasn't feeling\\n well. She left early. But they also\\n said she kept secrets from them, too.\\n The main thing I learned talking to\\n \",\n \"biography.\\n LIV\\n I love Henrik. He's fascinating.\\n Martin, too. Together they're the\\n Old Sweden and the New.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n They are.\\n LIV\\n You know about Harriet, right?\\n\\nBlomkvist doesn't say. The sound of the wind stops.\\n LIV\\n You don't?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I do.\\n\\nMartin emerges from the cellar with a bottle\",\n \" Rebecka Jacobsson.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n How was she killed?\\n MORELL O/S\\n Decapitated. Arms cut off. Burned.\\n\\n Like the Leviticus dove. A siren. Ambulance coming\\n past, headed for the bridge.\\n\\n MORELL O/S\\n But this happened in the 1940's -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Hang on a second.\\n\\n He\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n Blomkvist knocks on the door. Anita pulls it open.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's me. Sorry to bother you.\\n\\n She doesn't invite him in, but doesn't shut the door in\\n his face either.\\n ANITA\\n What do you want?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n No one's called you?\\n\\n ANITA\\n About.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n \",\n \"one's called you?\\n\\n ANITA\\n About.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Your cousin.\\n\\n She has two, but doesn't ask which -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Martin.\\n\\n ANITA\\n What about him?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n He died last Thursday. A car\\n accident. I'm sorry.\\n (nothing from her)\\n There's going to be\",\n \"the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\\nwas about 17 years old.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n She knew Harriet better than anyone -\\n certainly better than I did. You\\n should talk to her.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'd love to, where is she.\\n CECILIA\\n If I had to guess - London.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You don't know where your own sister\\n lives?\\n\\n CECILIA\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n ANITA\\n I never saw it myself, but you could\\n tell something was going on. One day\\n she'd be withdrawn. The next she'd\\n be putting on makeup and wearing the\\n tightest sweater she had to school.\\n The next she'd be studying a Bible\\n like a nun - no Vanger was ever\\n religious - can you imagine?\\n Obviously, she was very unhappy.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She never confided in you what about,\\n specifically?\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n ANITA\\n What do you understand?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n That you don't really care for any of\\n your relatives. Still, I thought you\\n should know.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Now I know.\\n\\n And now, she closes the door.\\n 142.\\n 142.\\n \\n\\n244 OMIT: INT. ANITA'S HOUSE - LOND\",\n \"Thursday. A car\\n accident. I'm sorry.\\n (nothing from her)\\n There's going to be a memorial in\\n Hedestad. I know you haven't been\\n back there in a long time, but -\\n ANITA\\n I'm not interested in any memorial.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I understand.\\n\\n ANITA\\n What do you understand?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n That you don\",\n \"she was very unhappy.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She never confided in you what about,\\n specifically?\\n ANITA\\n There was no specifically. It was\\n everything. It was being part of\\n that family. Henrik's the only\\n decent person in it.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What do you think happened to her?\\n\\n ANITA\\n Everyone knows what.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n But you have no ... thoughts about\\n why, or\",\n \"The accent is all British. She's been here much longer\\n than her home country. No trace of Swedish anymore. He\\n offers his hand -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm Mikael.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Mikael. How do you do.\\n\\n As he sits, she regards him a little more carefully ...\\n\\n ANITA\\n You're looking for investment\\n counseling, Mikael?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I would if had any money to invest.\",\n \"That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Okay, what.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I was just thinking, there could be\\n one other possibility.\\n\\n248 OMIT: INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - NIGHT 248\\n249 INT. INVESTMENT BANK - LONDON - DAY 249\\n\\n Blomkvist taps on Anita'\",\n \" ANITA\\nShe was messed up. Like all us\\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\\nfather. At least hers wasn't a Nazi\\nlike mine.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nWas he abusive?\\n\\n ANITA\\nMine?\\n BLOMKVIST\\nHers.\\n 52.\\n 52.\\n \\n\\n ANITA\\n I never saw it myself, but you could\\n tell something was going on. One day\\n she'\",\n \"\\npoliceman - when it happened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\nMorell.\\n\\n ANITA\\nMy recollections then were a lot\\nbetter than they are now.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nI'm not speaking of the crime itself.\\nI'm trying to get a clearer sense of\\nwhat Harriet was like. Particularly,\\ntoward the end.\\n\\n ANITA\\nShe was messed up. Like all us\\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\\nfather. At least hers\",\n \"Behind her, Harriet packs a few items of clothing.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Don't take anything.\\n Harriet puts the clothes back. Picks up her purse.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Leave that, too.\\n\\n256 INT. VANGER MANOR - NIGHT - 1966 256\\n\\n The dinner that night. Vanger noticing Harriet's empty\\n chair. And Anita saying nothing, taking a bite of food.\\n\\n257 EXT\",\n \"ANITA\\n Everyone knows what.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n But you have no ... thoughts about\\n why, or who.\\n ANITA\\n All I know is I always felt sorry\\n for her. Even more than for myself.\\n I got out of there when I was 18 and\\n never went back. She would have done\\n the same but didn't make it to 18.\\n96 EXT. STOCKHOLM - DAY 96\\n\\n Salander, on\",\n \"\\nI wouldn't know where to start, if\\nthat was a question.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nI can narrow it. I've gotten up to\\nthe 1960s. To the event that altered\\neverything in Henrik's life.\\n ANITA\\nHarriet.\\n (he nods)\\nEverything I knew about that I told\\nto - whatever his name was - that\\npoliceman - when it happened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\nMorell.\\n\\n ANITA\\nMy recollections\",\n \"s.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Is she's alive, there's only one\\n person in this family who would know\\n where she is.\\n\\n He takes the photo of Anita down from the wall.\\n\\n239 INT. HOSPITAL - DAY 239\\n Henrik sits in one of the chairs. Blomkvist in another.\\n Salander prefers to stand. Eventually -\\n VANGER\\n Poor Martin.\\n\\n Clearly, he hasn\",\n \"car outside her father Harald's\\n house. Drives down the road toward the bridge.\\n ANITA\\n Stay absolutely still.\\n\\n The blanket covering Harriet on the backseat floorboard\\n moves slightly, then is still.\\n A policeman on the island side of the bridge waves the\\n car across it. As it heads along the mainland service\\n road toward the highway -\\n HARRIET V/O\\n She saved me.\\n\\n258 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY\",\n \"hung me\\n from a hook ... Harriet.\\n250 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 250\\n They sit together on a park bench.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Anita married in Stockholm in 1967.\\n It's recorded in the Swedish General\\n Register. But the family never knew,\\n did they.\\n (she confirms that with a\\n shake of her head)\\n I'm guessing she then\",\n \"BLOMKVIST\\n He was my age then, and so couldn't\\n know what was really going on with a\\n teenager any more than I can with my\\n own daughter. You were her age.\\n 46.\\n 46.\\n \\n\\n CECILIA\\n Actually, my sister Anita was closer\\n to her in age.\\n\\nINSERT of the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\\nwas about 17 years old.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n She\",\n \"as\\n they tether cables to computers in the van. Blomkvist\\n just watches. Finally, to him -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n It's your turn.\\n 141.\\n 141.\\n \\n\\n243 EXT. ANITA'S HOUSE - LONDON - NIGHT 243\\n\\n Blomkvist knocks on the door. Anita pulls it open.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n \",\n \"response Cecilia\\n predicted, but it doesn't come.\\n95 EXT. CAFE - LONDON - DAY 95\\n\\n They sit together at a little table on the sidewalk.\\n ANITA\\n How is Henrik?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Good. Engaging. I like him.\\n\\n She does, too.\\n 51.\\n 51.\\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\\n\\n ANITA\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n ... I don't even remember\\n Wennerstrom working here, much less\\n being fired ...\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Why would you. It was a long time\\n ago. Which is more to the point than\\n the money he embezzled.\\n\\n FRODE\\n I don't think I'm seeing the point.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Yes, you are.\\n FRODE\\n (another look at the\\n paperwork)\\n It\",\n \")\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's Blomkvist who studies Frode. He's not sure he\\nwants to tell him. And even less so the longer he looks.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n The last time I reported something\\n before I was sure of it, it cost me\\n my savings.\\n\\nFrode studies him again - wondering perhaps if Blomkvist\\nsuspects him.\\n BLOMK\",\n \"this.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm not so sure.\\n\\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\\n FRODE\\n What do you mean?\\n 76.\\n 76.\\n\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I may have found something.\\n\\n FRODE\\n (pause)\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's\",\n \"\\n FRODE\\n A Scotch.\\nBlomkvist pours him one, and another for himself.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I don't want to be indelicate. But\\n Henrik promised me something when I\\n agreed to do this.\\n FRODE\\n Wennerstrom.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n (nods)\\n I need to know what he has on him.\\n Now. In case.\\n\\n FRODE\\n In case he\",\n \"ERIKA\\n This time I do want to know.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I have access to his computer, and\\n his accountants' and lawyers'.\\n\\n She isn't happy to hear that explanation.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n And how do you have that?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I could have gotten it from a source\\n inside the company.\\n ERIKA\\n But you didn't.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n But that's\",\n \"If I had, I never\\n would have let him bring you up here.\\n But he wasn't trying to deceive you.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Come on, he knows you can't try\\n somebody for this 35 years later. I\\n like Henrik, but he knows that.\\n Frode disagrees -\\n\\n FRODE\\n A man's reputation used to mean\\n something - he still believes that.\\n I'm sure he thought you could destroy\\n Wennerstrom with this\",\n \" BLOMKVIST\\n And I still would have lost.\\n\\n GREGOR\\n Did you have ... anything on him.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I had a lot. It just wasn't any\\n good.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n It wasn't even about Mikael. It\\n was Wennerstrom sending a message to\\n the press as a whole - and the FSA:\\n Don't ask questions.\\n\\nBlomkvist's daughter seems concerned for him\",\n \" well. She left early. But they also\\n said she kept secrets from them, too.\\n The main thing I learned talking to\\n them for hours is that teenage girls\\n are complicated.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I have one.\\n\\n MORELL\\n So you know.\\n (Blomkvist does indeed)\\n Did you bring the last gift Henrik\\n received?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's at the National Forensic Lab.\\n\\n MORELL\\n\",\n \" 295A\\n The same cafe Blomkvist retreated to after his libel\\n conviction.\\n REPORTER O/S\\n A man who police in Marbella, Spain,\\n have confirmed is fugitive Hans-Erik\\n Wennerstrom -\\n 163.\\n 163.\\n \\n\\n295B INT. CAFE - STOCKHOLM - DAY 295B\\n\\n Blomkvist is at the counter, across\",\n \" about Wennerstrom?\\n\\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\\n SALANDER\\n I started investigating him on my\\n own. Then you showed up and hired\\n me. I haven't had a chance to look\\n at it all - you and Harriet-fucking-\\n Vanger have kept me busy ... but I\\n may have something.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n (pause)\\n On Wennerstrom.\\n\\n \",\n \"was stupid. I got something from\\n an anonymous source, who I'm sure now\\n worked for him. It was fake. Which\\n he easily proved in court.\\n Not a good day, that. Then -\\n SALANDER\\n You were emphatic that the way I\\n looked into your life was illegal and\\n immoral. Would you feel the same\\n about Wennerstrom?\\n\\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\\n SALANDER\\n I\",\n \"LOMKVIST\\n How are you feeling?\\n\\n VANGER\\n I'm fine. Thank you, Anna.\\n Anna leaves. Closes the doors. Before Blomkvist can say\\n anything else -\\n\\n VANGER\\n I made you a promise. Whether you\\n found out anything or not.\\n\\n He holds out the file. Blomkvist takes it and sees:\\n INSERT: Wennerstorm's name typed on it, and a fairly\\n recent photo of him clipped\",\n \"IN\\n How's the investigation?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nothing new to report.\\n\\n Blomkvist notices a drop of blood from his pantleg on\\n the stone floor and covers it up with his shoe. Martin,\\n not seeming to notice, finds a mini-Maglite in the\\n drawer.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Dirch says Ms. Salander is clever.\\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Maybe.\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I know.\\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\\n list of names and initials he gave her -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n The five cases from Harriet's\\n list. And five more she missed -\\n three I'm sure about.\\n\\n Five more? Blomkvist stares at her but she's turned back\\n to her laptop, bringing up police reports and crime scene\\n photos.\\n SALANDER\\n Rebecka\",\n \"of 12 billion dollars (80 billion kronor)\\n ... 82-foot yacht, villa on the island of Varmdo ...\\n\\n She does a third search, types:\\n Wennerstrom+Vanger Industries - and hits the `cached'\\n option -\\n\\n There are only a couple of results that include both\\n terms. She goes to one of them, a body of text of some\\n old page with the cached terms highlighted in yellow and\\n blue, and reads -\\n\\n ... Hans-Erik Wen\",\n \"sued him -\\n The Wennerstrom Group - of criminal\\n activities on a global scale -\\n backing it up with internal financial\\n reports, bank records and emails -\\n annotations almost as long as the\\n article itself.\\n\\nThe cover of the magazine features a head shot of\\nWennerstrom, and, rare for the magazine, a tabloid-style\\ntitle: GANGLAND. Salander leafs through the article as\\nBlomkvist brushes his teeth in the bathroom.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BLOMK\",\n \"\\nI wouldn't know where to start, if\\nthat was a question.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nI can narrow it. I've gotten up to\\nthe 1960s. To the event that altered\\neverything in Henrik's life.\\n ANITA\\nHarriet.\\n (he nods)\\nEverything I knew about that I told\\nto - whatever his name was - that\\npoliceman - when it happened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\nMorell.\\n\\n ANITA\\nMy recollections\",\n \" MORELL\\n And very bright. Henrik told me he\\n could easily imagine her running the\\n business someday, which would mean\\n someone else wouldn't.\\n\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She was with some friends that day.\\n At a parade. You must have talked to\\n them.\\n\\n MORELL\\n She told them she wasn't feeling\\n well. She left early. But they also\\n said she kept secrets from them, too.\\n The main thing I learned talking to\\n \",\n \" Yes, it was quite thorough.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I want to read it.\\n FRODE\\n That I couldn't authorize.\\n 77.\\n 77.\\n \\n\\n Blomkvist isn't sure how to play this. Then he is.\\n Sets his napkin down, gets up and begins taking things\\n down from the wall. Frode watches. Then sighs.\\n135 EXT. STOCKHOLM - DUSK \",\n \"She moves off. Her friends look after\\n her confused. And then she's gone.\\n Blomkvist backs up to the frame of Harriet looking off\\n with fear in her eyes, and for the first time believes\\n without a doubt what Vanger has believed for 40 years:\\n\\n She was murdered. Whoever she saw across the street\\n followed her and killed her. The cat watches him.\\n126 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\\n\\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n FRODE\\n A Scotch.\\nBlomkvist pours him one, and another for himself.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I don't want to be indelicate. But\\n Henrik promised me something when I\\n agreed to do this.\\n FRODE\\n Wennerstrom.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n (nods)\\n I need to know what he has on him.\\n Now. In case.\\n\\n FRODE\\n In case he\",\n \"ERIKA\\n This time I do want to know.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I have access to his computer, and\\n his accountants' and lawyers'.\\n\\n She isn't happy to hear that explanation.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n And how do you have that?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I could have gotten it from a source\\n inside the company.\\n ERIKA\\n But you didn't.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n But that's\",\n \"an investment in\\n the magazine.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I gather. Why would you want to do\\n that?\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Not for the return, that's for sure.\\n\\n VANGER\\n (to Erika)\\n I feel bad that I've take Mikael\\n away from you at the worst possible\\n time. This is the right thing to do.\\n The moral thing. That's one reason.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n And.\\n \",\n \" BLOMKVIST\\n And I still would have lost.\\n\\n GREGOR\\n Did you have ... anything on him.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I had a lot. It just wasn't any\\n good.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n It wasn't even about Mikael. It\\n was Wennerstrom sending a message to\\n the press as a whole - and the FSA:\\n Don't ask questions.\\n\\nBlomkvist's daughter seems concerned for him\",\n \"If I had, I never\\n would have let him bring you up here.\\n But he wasn't trying to deceive you.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Come on, he knows you can't try\\n somebody for this 35 years later. I\\n like Henrik, but he knows that.\\n Frode disagrees -\\n\\n FRODE\\n A man's reputation used to mean\\n something - he still believes that.\\n I'm sure he thought you could destroy\\n Wennerstrom with this\",\n \"A\\n What are you doing?\\n 10.\\n 10.\\n \\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Writing the press release.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n Saying -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You're taking over as publisher.\\n You're sorry for any nuisance\\n Wennerstrom was caused. I can't be\\n reached for comment.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n You're giving up.\\n B\",\n \"sorry. I'm about to sit down to\\n Christmas dinner myself.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n That's not what I mean.\\n\\n FRODE O/S\\n You're referring to your recent\\n legal trouble. That has provided Mr.\\n Vanger with some entertainment.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Excuse me?\\n\\n FRODE O/S\\n He doesn't care for Wennerstrom\\n either.\\n\\n Frode\",\n \")\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's Blomkvist who studies Frode. He's not sure he\\nwants to tell him. And even less so the longer he looks.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n The last time I reported something\\n before I was sure of it, it cost me\\n my savings.\\n\\nFrode studies him again - wondering perhaps if Blomkvist\\nsuspects him.\\n BLOMK\",\n \" about Wennerstrom?\\n\\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\\n SALANDER\\n I started investigating him on my\\n own. Then you showed up and hired\\n me. I haven't had a chance to look\\n at it all - you and Harriet-fucking-\\n Vanger have kept me busy ... but I\\n may have something.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n (pause)\\n On Wennerstrom.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n ... I don't even remember\\n Wennerstrom working here, much less\\n being fired ...\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Why would you. It was a long time\\n ago. Which is more to the point than\\n the money he embezzled.\\n\\n FRODE\\n I don't think I'm seeing the point.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Yes, you are.\\n FRODE\\n (another look at the\\n paperwork)\\n It\",\n \"this.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm not so sure.\\n\\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\\n FRODE\\n What do you mean?\\n 76.\\n 76.\\n\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I may have found something.\\n\\n FRODE\\n (pause)\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's\",\n \"Millennium magazine which\\n according to analysts has been in\\n financial trouble since last December\\n when its cofounder Mikael Blomkvist\\n was found guilty of libel against\\n Hans-Erik Wennerstrom -\\n111 INT. MILLENNIUM'S OFFICES - DAY 111\\n\\n A news crew has crammed itself inside Erika's office,\\n where a reporter interviews her -\\n\\n ERIKA\\n We made a serious mistake last year,\",\n \"\\n terrible negotiator. It's what you\\n want more than anything else and it\\n can't be bought at any price. I'll\\n give it to you ... Hans-Erik\\n Wennerstrom.\\n\\n He pushes toward Blomkvist a plate: the carcass of the\\n fresh-killed and cooked duck they've been eating. It and\\n the mention of Wennerstrom's name clouds, at least for a\\n moment, Blomkvist's memory of the train\",\n \")\\n I need to know what he has on him.\\n Now. In case.\\n\\n FRODE\\n In case he dies? That is indelicate.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n And I apologize.\\n\\n FRODE\\n I don't know what he has on him, if\\n you're asking me. And he can't tell\\n you in the condition he's in. So ...\\n is that it then?\\nSilence. Blomkvist drinks. Eventually -\\n\\n \",\n \"RIKA\\n Smoking?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Just one.\\nHe sits, exhausted and depressed, in a cheap Poang chair.\\n ERIKA\\n TV4 called. I told them no\\n statement until we've read the\\n judgment in its entirety.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I have. Who else?\\n ERIKA\\n Everyone who's ever wanted to see\\n you humiliated.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You'\",\n \"was stupid. I got something from\\n an anonymous source, who I'm sure now\\n worked for him. It was fake. Which\\n he easily proved in court.\\n Not a good day, that. Then -\\n SALANDER\\n You were emphatic that the way I\\n looked into your life was illegal and\\n immoral. Would you feel the same\\n about Wennerstrom?\\n\\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\\n SALANDER\\n I\",\n \"\\n \\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Wennerstrom wants to see me waving\\n a white flag, not a red one. And the\\n more it looks like there's a problem\\n between you and me, the more it'll\\n satisfy him.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n There is a problem between us. He\\n won't be satisfied until he shuts us\\n down, and you're leaving me to fight\\n him alone.\\n\\n He kisses her but gets back no more than he would\",\n \"omkvist.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Do you want to stop?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I have police reports, photos,\\n Henrik's notes, my own notes, and\\n Lisbeth's research. What I don't\\n have are Vanger Industries records.\\n That's what I want.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Why?\\n\\nBlomkvist doesn't say. Only -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Will you authorize it?\\n\",\n \"family.\\n 45.\\n 45.\\n \\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's not about the family. It's\\n about Henrik and the company.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n Like I said.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's not my intention to present a\\n malicious portrait of anyone.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n Unlike the one that landed you in\\n court.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Unlike\",\n \" 80.\\n 80.\\n \\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Your report on me was quite detailed\\n but for me not very entertaining.\\n\\n A copy of it sits next to his plate.\\n SALANDER\\n It wasn't meant to be.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n When I write about people, I try to\\n entertain the reader.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Wennerstrom wasn't entertained.\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"Millennium magazine which\\n according to analysts has been in\\n financial trouble since last December\\n when its cofounder Mikael Blomkvist\\n was found guilty of libel against\\n Hans-Erik Wennerstrom -\\n111 INT. MILLENNIUM'S OFFICES - DAY 111\\n\\n A news crew has crammed itself inside Erika's office,\\n where a reporter interviews her -\\n\\n ERIKA\\n We made a serious mistake last year,\",\n \"an investment in\\n the magazine.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I gather. Why would you want to do\\n that?\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Not for the return, that's for sure.\\n\\n VANGER\\n (to Erika)\\n I feel bad that I've take Mikael\\n away from you at the worst possible\\n time. This is the right thing to do.\\n The moral thing. That's one reason.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n And.\\n \",\n \" Your independence is dependant on\\n advertisers - if we're being honest.\\n However much you think that is, you'd\\n retain. We don't care about content.\\n\\nBlomkvist suddenly feels like someone coming late to a\\nparty.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Excuse me. Did I miss something?\\n VANGER\\n We're talking about an investment in\\n the magazine.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I gather. Why would you want to do\\n that\",\n \"IN\\n How's the investigation?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nothing new to report.\\n\\n Blomkvist notices a drop of blood from his pantleg on\\n the stone floor and covers it up with his shoe. Martin,\\n not seeming to notice, finds a mini-Maglite in the\\n drawer.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Dirch says Ms. Salander is clever.\\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Maybe.\\n\",\n \"ERIKA\\n This time I do want to know.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I have access to his computer, and\\n his accountants' and lawyers'.\\n\\n She isn't happy to hear that explanation.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n And how do you have that?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I could have gotten it from a source\\n inside the company.\\n ERIKA\\n But you didn't.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n But that's\",\n \" 4.\\n 4.\\n \\n\\n ERIKA\\n Where you been?\\n\\nErika Berger is about Blomkvist's age, and - like the\\nIKEA furniture - sends a mixed message: a feminist in a\\nmini-skirt.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Walking. Thinking.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n Smoking?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Just one.\\nHe sits, exhausted and depressed, in\",\n \"sued him -\\n The Wennerstrom Group - of criminal\\n activities on a global scale -\\n backing it up with internal financial\\n reports, bank records and emails -\\n annotations almost as long as the\\n article itself.\\n\\nThe cover of the magazine features a head shot of\\nWennerstrom, and, rare for the magazine, a tabloid-style\\ntitle: GANGLAND. Salander leafs through the article as\\nBlomkvist brushes his teeth in the bathroom.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BLOMK\",\n \" SALANDER\\n Who is it?\\n BLOMKVIST O/S\\n Mikael Blomkvist.\\n Her mind races, as Blomkvist's did to the news someone\\n had invaded his privacy. She unlocks the door. Cracks\\n it enough to see him. He smiles, but it's disconcerting.\\n She's not sure it's a harmless one.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n May I come in?\\n SALANDER\\n\",\n \" interested.\\n\\n He is.\\n108 INT. VANGER MANOR - EVENING 108\\n\\n Vanger and Martin all but ignore Blomkvist as they chat\\n with Erika over dinner. They seem charmed by her.\\n\\n VANGER\\n I apologize if you're having\\n financial problems at the magazine\\n in Mikael's absence.\\n ERIKA\\n We'll work through them.\\n VANGER\\n Are you\",\n \",\\n using more pages torn from one of his books, Erika wraps\\n herself in a blanket. The cat, who has no trouble with\\n the cold, naps on the paperwork on the desk.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What have I missed besides you?\\n ERIKA\\n The steady exodus of two-thirds of\\n our advertisers.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Seriously?\\n\\n ERIKA\\n Is that hard to\",\n \" SALANDER\\n How much do one of those cost?\\n\\n TELEVISION IMAGE:\\n\\n A bland financial announcer reading the news. The\\n graphic to the side of him is the distinctive V.I. logo\\n of Vanger Industries.\\n ANNOUNCER\\n Petrochemical manufacturer Vanger\\n Industries has acquired a controlling\\n interest in Millennium magazine which\\n according to analysts has been in\\n financial trouble since last December\\n when its cofounder Mik\",\n \"this.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm not so sure.\\n\\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\\n FRODE\\n What do you mean?\\n 76.\\n 76.\\n\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I may have found something.\\n\\n FRODE\\n (pause)\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's\",\n \"BLOMKVIST\\n That's comforting. Are you hungry?\\n Want a sandwich?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n No.\\n Busy setting up her laptop on his desk, starting it up,\\n sitting down at it, she's all but ignoring him.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I used to have a motorcycle. When I\\n was 19.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I know.\\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\\n \",\n \"FRODE\\n Actually, Isabella, Mr. Blomkvist\\n works for Henrik.\\n ISABELLA\\n And who do you work for, Dirch?\\n Remind me who pays your salary?\\n\\n BIRGER\\n We should put this to a vote.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Don't be an idiot, Birger.\\n\\n BIRGER\\n It's a family decision like any\\n other. Cecilia?\\n\\n CECILIA\\n What.\\n \",\n \"toward them, microphones and cameras swing\\n in his direction. Without stopping -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What is this, the media event of the\\n year?\\n REPORTER 1\\n Don't try to play it down, Mikael, it\\n won't work.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Don't try to play it up, that won't\\n either.\\n4A EXT. COURTHOUSE - STOCKHOLM - DAY - CONTINU\",\n \"A\\n What are you doing?\\n 10.\\n 10.\\n \\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Writing the press release.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n Saying -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You're taking over as publisher.\\n You're sorry for any nuisance\\n Wennerstrom was caused. I can't be\\n reached for comment.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n You're giving up.\\n B\",\n \")\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's Blomkvist who studies Frode. He's not sure he\\nwants to tell him. And even less so the longer he looks.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n The last time I reported something\\n before I was sure of it, it cost me\\n my savings.\\n\\nFrode studies him again - wondering perhaps if Blomkvist\\nsuspects him.\\n BLOMK\",\n \"She pours milk in her coffee from the carton she just\\n bought. Pushes over two faded Polaroid photos. He picks\\n them up:\\n One shows a young girl about 14, naked from the waist up,\\n head turned half-away from the camera. The second shows\\n her on her stomach on a bed, completely naked, face\\n turned to the photographer, frightened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Harriet?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I think so.\\n\\n Blomkvist\",\n \". Then -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm pretty sure this isn't a good\\n idea.\\n SALANDER\\n Why.\\n\\n He extracts his head from the cocoon and looks at her.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Apart from the fact that I'm old, we\\n work together.\\n SALANDER\\n You work with what's-her-name.\\n That's worked out for you.\\n\\n\",\n \"good one. She did the\\n background check on you.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n The.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Do you think we'd hire anyone for\\n something like this without doing\\n one?\\nBlomkvist's brain tries to quickly inventory his life,\\npausing at its darker recesses. Frode nods.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Yes, it was quite thorough.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I want to read it.\\n FRODE\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"lining the\\n street. Harriet isn't in it.\\n\\n But in the next she appears at the edge of the frame\\n with her school friends. In the next, she's further into\\n frame. And the next, standing in the same spot he stood\\n earlier today.\\n\\n124 OMIT - INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT 124\\n 67.\\n 67.\\n \\n\\n125 INT. COTTAGE -\",\n \" Indeed he was.\\n\\n Vanger's look to Blomkvist adds, `so consider him a\\n suspect.' He indicates another house on the grounds -\\n VANGER\\n That's his daughter Cecilia's house.\\n They don't speak.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Does anyone speak to anyone on this\\n island?\\n\\n VANGER\\n Actually, Isabella - Harriet's mother\\n - who lives there -\\n (points)\\n - she speaks to Harald\",\n \"the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\\nwas about 17 years old.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n She knew Harriet better than anyone -\\n certainly better than I did. You\\n should talk to her.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'd love to, where is she.\\n CECILIA\\n If I had to guess - London.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You don't know where your own sister\\n lives?\\n\\n CECILIA\\n \",\n \"\\n HARRIET\\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\\n told him. But I was afraid because\\n of what I did.\\n (pause)\\n You still don't understand?\\n\\n He doesn't. She studies him, and perhaps sees in him\\n what Salander did long ago - that he can be trusted.\\n HARRIET\\n A year after the first time -\\n after many times during that year -\\n my father got drunker than usual one\\n \",\n \"KVIST\\n Harriet?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I think so.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't look at the photos long. Sets them\\n down. Something's troubling him -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Martin didn't deny killing anyone.\\n But when I mentioned Harriet, he was\\n confused. He was angry - at me - for\\n not being able to tell him what\\n happened to her.\\n (pause)\\n He\",\n \"did they.\\n (she confirms that with a\\n shake of her head)\\n I'm guessing she then came here on a\\n passport in her married name, and you\\n followed on her maiden name passport.\\n HARRIET\\n Actually, it was the other way\\n around. She thought it safer for me\\n to travel with Spencer myself.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What did he think about that?\\n HARRIET\\n Nothing\",\n \"Actually, Isabella - Harriet's mother\\n - who lives there -\\n (points)\\n - she speaks to Harald - which is one\\n of reasons I don't speak to her.\\n (points)\\n Cecilia's brother Birger lives there.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Who doesn't he speak to?\\n VANGER\\n You, probably. Not that you'd want\\n him to. He can be as unpleasant as\\n Harald.\\n 32.\",\n \"of the oar down, burying it in his head\\n like an axe.\\n\\n He stares up her, uncomprehending. His fingers slide\\n away from the dock. His body goes limp and sinks out of\\n sight beneath the water.\\n HARRIET V/O\\n When it was finally over I looked\\n up, and Martin was standing there -\\n\\n She sees her brother up by the cabin looking down at her.\\n HARRIET V/O\\n With a little smile.\\n\",\n \"across the street\\n from where Harriet was standing:\\n\\n INSERT: Couples, kids, a clown.\\n INSERT: The watch repair shop clock that reads, 2:00.\\n\\n INSERT: A figure standing slightly apart from the other\\n people.\\n It's too blurry to make out his face or age, but he has\\n light brown hair, dark slacks, and a dark blazer with\\n some kind of patch on the pocket.\\n\\n184 EXT. STOCK\",\n \"She sees her brother up by the cabin looking down at her.\\n HARRIET V/O\\n With a little smile.\\n252 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 252\\n\\n HARRIET\\n He dragged me back to the cabin ...\\n All I'd accomplished was substitute\\n one rapist for another.\\n\\n253 EXT. HEDESTAD - DAY - 1966 253\\n\\n Young Harriet and her school\",\n \"HARRIET V/O\\n She saved me.\\n\\n258 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 258\\n Silence. Then she gestures to Blomkvist's neck.\\n\\n HARRIET\\n How did you get away?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Someone saved me, too.\\n 148.\\n 148.\\n \\n\\n He gestures off to the thin, strange girl sitting on\",\n \"Harriet most of all.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Excuse me?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n If she'd done anything but run,\\n Martin wouldn't have been able to\\n kill all those women.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She had no idea he was doing it.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n She should have killed her father and\\n him.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n That's what you would've done\",\n \"She pours milk in her coffee from the carton she just\\n bought. Pushes over two faded Polaroid photos. He picks\\n them up:\\n One shows a young girl about 14, naked from the waist up,\\n head turned half-away from the camera. The second shows\\n her on her stomach on a bed, completely naked, face\\n turned to the photographer, frightened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Harriet?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I think so.\\n\\n Blomkvist\",\n \"he died.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Why didn't you tell someone?\\n HARRIET\\n I did. My mother.\\n\\n Blomkvist stares. Finally -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Henrik would have done something.\\n\\n HARRIET\\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\\n told him. But I was afraid because\",\n \"The children of the \\\"thieves, misers, bullies and\\n incompetents\\\" play on a beach. A shutter blinks freezing\\n a 12-year-old girl in foreground in black and white -\\n\\n VANGER V/O\\n This is Harriet. The granddaughter\\n of my brother Richard.\\n\\n32 INT. VANGER'S STUDY - DAY 32\\n The same photograph of Harriet in a photo album Vanger\\n shows Blomkvist.\\n \",\n \"hung me\\n from a hook ... Harriet.\\n250 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 250\\n They sit together on a park bench.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Anita married in Stockholm in 1967.\\n It's recorded in the Swedish General\\n Register. But the family never knew,\\n did they.\\n (she confirms that with a\\n shake of her head)\\n I'm guessing she then\",\n \"car outside her father Harald's\\n house. Drives down the road toward the bridge.\\n ANITA\\n Stay absolutely still.\\n\\n The blanket covering Harriet on the backseat floorboard\\n moves slightly, then is still.\\n A policeman on the island side of the bridge waves the\\n car across it. As it heads along the mainland service\\n road toward the highway -\\n HARRIET V/O\\n She saved me.\\n\\n258 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY\",\n \". He checks a scribbled floor plan of\\n the manor and sees that it's Harriet's bedroom.\\n\\n But he's not sure if it's Harriet. The figure is too\\n soft to identify - even with a magnifying glass - but is\\n wearing a light-colored dress and has light hair.\\n He glances to the family tree on the wall - the teenage\\n Vanger girls' photos -\\n\\n Three INSERTS: Harriet ... Cecelia ... Anita ...\\n\\n They all have light hair, and\",\n \"\\n VANGER\\n She was bright and curious, a\\n winning combination in any person.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n And beautiful.\\n Vanger nods as he regards the photo ...\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Something happened to her?\\n\\n Vanger nods again; is silent for several moments ...\\n VANGER\\n Someone in the family murdered\\n Harriet and for the last forty years\\n has been trying to drive me insane.\\n33 OMIT:\",\n \", Minuet\\n in G, dissolve at two-second intervals. Too long. Too\\n distracting with the music. And too wide.\\n He adjusts the size function - closer on Harriet gets\\n rid of the dissolve effect and music and reduces the time-\\n interval to make the transitions as quick as possible.\\n\\n He hits `play' again and watches a short jerky `silent\\n film'- a kind of electronic flip-book:\\n\\n Harriet arrives with her friends. Moves along the\\n street. Stops and faces the\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n Shall we start with me?\\n (pause)\\n Shall we start now?\\n\\nAs he comes around the desk, she eyes a sharp letter\\nopener sticking out above some pens in a coffee mug a\\nchild has painted with the word, `daddy.'\\n BJURMAN\\n If you're nice to me, I'll be nice to\\n you. That's how normal people are.\\n\\nHe stands in front of her, his crotch at her eye level.\\n BJURMAN\\n You've done\",\n \".\\n\\nHe stands in front of her, his crotch at her eye level.\\n BJURMAN\\n You've done this before. You know\\n what to do.\\n (MORE)\\n 49.\\n 49.\\n \\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\\n (she doesn't do anything)\\n Do you want this computer or not?\\n\\n He takes her hand and places it on the crotch of his\\n trousers.\\n \",\n \"the elevator without really looking at the\\n figure already in it.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Ground, please.\\n A finger presses it. The doors close and the elevator\\n starts down.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n How's your sex life?\\n\\n Bjurman, terrified, backs into a corner. She presses a\\n button and the elevator jerks to a stop between floors.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I didn't care much for your last\\n report.\\n \",\n \"he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Wait.\\n\\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on a chair.\\n Sits on the edge of the bed. He stands over her. She\\n knows what she's supposed to do, but seems unable to.\\n BJURMAN\\n Is there a problem?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I just want to know, am I going to\\n have to do this every time I need\\n money to eat?\\n BJURMAN\\n It\",\n \"her struggle. But she's not going anywhere.\\n He tears open a condom package with his teeth.\\n 55.\\n 55.\\n \\n\\n BJURMAN\\n I forget - did I ask you before if\\n you liked anal sex?\\n\\n He crams a pillow under her stomach and climbs on top\\n of her. She keeps fighting but there's not much she can\\n do handcuffed. Eventually, she retreats to another place\\n inside herself. She's had to go\",\n \"Salander. Bjurman seems a\\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\\n 66.\\n 66.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I need more money. I need to pay my\\n rent.\\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Come on in.\",\n \"6 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\\n\\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\\n SALANDER\\n Good. You're alive.\\n\\n It takes him a moment to realize it's true. Another to\\n realize it might be better if he wasn't since he's naked\\n on the floor, face-up, wrists and ankles bound. He tries\\n to cry out and realizes he's also gagged.\\n\\n She emerges from the\",\n \"out.\\n He gets her in a strangle hold and chokes her into\\n unconsciousness.\\n100A INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT 100A\\n\\n She comes to, on her stomach, sees her wrists cuffed to\\n the headboard posts, her ankles secured to the foot posts\\n with silk ties, and scissors slicing her jeans off. She\\n starts to scream and he stuffs her mouth with her\\n underwear.\\n BJUR\",\n \"her little backpack over\\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Come on in.\\n\\n She steps inside. He takes her hand and leads her\\n toward the bedroom. Her other hand slips into her jacket\\n pocket.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Since we're still figuring out what\\n you like, I went shopping for some\\n new toys.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Me, too.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n \",\n \"me.\\n\\n The door buzzes. She pushes it open.\\n99 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 99\\n She moves along a hallway with both purpose and dread.\\n Knocks on his door ... It opens, revealing him in a robe.\\n BJURMAN\\n Come on in.\\n\\n100 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS 100\\n\\n She takes in the layout quickly: living room\",\n \"on my own.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Are you sure?\\n\\n It's bizarre: his manner seems to be one of genuine\\n concern. She nods. He hands her the check. Then opens\\n the door for her like a perfect gentleman.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n So, next Saturday, here?\\n 56.\\n 56.\\n \\n\\n She nods. Leaves. The door closes.\\n\\n102 EXT. STOCK\",\n \"ner expertly builds a fire in the fireplace for\\n him, Blomkvist works at unpacking the boxes - documents,\\n fat police reports, notebooks, folders, photo albums.\\n\\n NILSSON\\n You're an author.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm writing a biography of Mr.\\n Vanger, yes.\\n\\n Nilsson nods, but isn't sure he believes it. Maybe he\\n took a look inside the boxes before he brought them down.\\n NILSS\",\n \"slicing her jeans off. She\\n starts to scream and he stuffs her mouth with her\\n underwear.\\n BJURMAN\\n Please. I have neighbors.\\n\\n He lights a couple candles. Switches on some New Age\\n music.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n What we're going to do now is teach\\n you the value of money.\\n\\n He watches her struggle. But she's not going anywhere.\\n He tears open a condom package with his teeth.\\n 55\",\n \"want this computer or not?\\n\\n He takes her hand and places it on the crotch of his\\n trousers.\\n BJURMAN\\n You feel that? That's gaberdine.\\n Unzip them.\\n (she does)\\n And ...\\n (she tugs at his underwear)\\n And ...\\n (she doesn't move; he smiles)\\n I like the reticence. I prefer a\\n whore who pretends she isn't. It's\\n almost convincing.\",\n \"\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Making coffee and sorting mail.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I shouldn't even have to ask. I\\n should have control of my money like\\n before.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n And you will. Once you show me you\\n can be sociable and get along with\\n people. Can you do that?\\n (nothing from her)\\n Shall we start with me?\\n (pause)\\n Shall we start now?\\n\\nAs he comes around the desk, she\",\n \"She moves off. Her friends look after\\n her confused. And then she's gone.\\n Blomkvist backs up to the frame of Harriet looking off\\n with fear in her eyes, and for the first time believes\\n without a doubt what Vanger has believed for 40 years:\\n\\n She was murdered. Whoever she saw across the street\\n followed her and killed her. The cat watches him.\\n126 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\\n\\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\",\n \"returns to the office, she finds him\\n calmly writing a check.\\n BJURMAN\\n Here you go. As promised.\\n\\n He holds it out to her, but when she reaches for it,\\n pulls it back a little.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n I know you're not thinking about\\n telling anyone about our date. Enjoy\\n your computer games.\\n She takes the check and leaves.\\n\\n91 INT. SALANDER'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT 91\\n\",\n \" BJURMAN\\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\\n (nothing from Salander)\\n Terrible.\\n\\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\\n through her file -\\n BJURMAN\\n What exactly do you do at this\\n security company?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Make coffee and sort mail.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n But not full-time. Not even part\",\n \" that the world was created by the\\n word of God - and that what is seen\\n was not made of things that are\\n visible ...\\n\\n He sets it down. Rubs his eyes. Everything - his\\n daughter, his life, this cabin, the word of God - is\\n depressing.\\n101A INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - DAWN 101A\\n Dawn light outside the living room window.\\n\\n Bjurman, at his dining table with a glass of orange\\n juice, writing\",\n \"Vanger?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You're too young to know about that.\\n PHOTO EDITOR\\n Everyone here grows up knowing about\\n her. It's how we're taught about\\n strangers.\\n\\n121 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - STOCKHOLM - NIGHT 121\\n\\n The door opens revealing Salander. Bjurman seems a\\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n My\"\n ],\n [\n \"this.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm not so sure.\\n\\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\\n FRODE\\n What do you mean?\\n 76.\\n 76.\\n\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I may have found something.\\n\\n FRODE\\n (pause)\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's\",\n \"Then something, K, something, R, I,\\n F, something, I -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Carpentry.\\n (points below the letters)\\n Is that a phone number?\\n SALANDER\\n Too small to read.\\n\\n He gets up. Heads for the front door to smoke his\\n cigarette outside -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST (ADR)\\n I'm going to have to go to Norsjo.\\n\\n He\",\n \"VIST\\n Because no photographer at any\\n newspaper in the world takes just two\\n photos of anything - especially after\\n having to climb a flight of stairs.\\n\\n VANGER V/O\\n The bridge accident happened during\\n the parade. He rushed over.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Maybe.\\n\\n Silence. Then -\\n\\n VANGER V/O\\n Mikael, what have you found?\\n 65.\\n 65.\\n \\n\\n B\",\n \"\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I know.\\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\\n list of names and initials he gave her -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n The five cases from Harriet's\\n list. And five more she missed -\\n three I'm sure about.\\n\\n Five more? Blomkvist stares at her but she's turned back\\n to her laptop, bringing up police reports and crime scene\\n photos.\\n SALANDER\\n Rebecka\",\n \"Henrik the\\n Christmas before. I studied it more\\n times than I can say. I know every\\n page of it.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's the last page I'm curious about.\\n MORELL\\n As was I.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n The only names not alphabetized.\\nMorell nods that he knows that only too well as he turns\\nto that last page. On it, in neat handwriting:\\nMagda 32016 Sara 3210\",\n \"MKVIST\\n We need to somehow figure out who\\n they are, what happened to them, what\\n the Leviticus verses have to do with\\n (anything) -\\n\\n She gets up, goes to her desk, begins jotting something\\n down, ignoring him.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What are you doing?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Getting started. You can keep\\n talking if you want.\\n Blomkvist, slightly taken aback, picks up the\",\n \")\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's Blomkvist who studies Frode. He's not sure he\\nwants to tell him. And even less so the longer he looks.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n The last time I reported something\\n before I was sure of it, it cost me\\n my savings.\\n\\nFrode studies him again - wondering perhaps if Blomkvist\\nsuspects him.\\n BLOMK\",\n \"\\n Getting started. You can keep\\n talking if you want.\\n Blomkvist, slightly taken aback, picks up the Leviticus\\n Xerox from the floor.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Would you like this?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Got it.\\n\\n That's what she's jotting down, from memory: the names,\\n initials and Leviticus numbers. She wakes her laptop -\\n\\n141 EXT. THE BRIDGE - NIGHT\",\n \" 19.\\n \\n\\nA page in the album turns to reveal a photo of a young\\nman in a uniform with a Nazi pin.\\n\\n VANGER\\n Isn't it interesting how fascists\\n always steal the word freedom.\\n (Blomkvist checks his watch)\\n The 4:30. Yes. Okay. Anyway,\\n Richard died a martyr to the Nazi\\n cause in 1940 - missed all the real\\n excitement - but not the opportunity\\n to regularly beat his wife Margareta\\n \",\n \"14.\\n \\n\\n HARALD\\n Two point eight.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Pardon me?\\n HARALD\\n The Zeiss Tessar on my Hasselblad.\\n Excellent lens.\\n\\n Blomkvist tries to nod appreciatively, but the bridge\\n photos don't tell him anything he doesn't already know.\\n\\n He finds several more that appear to be a hunting\\n expedition - men and blood hounds - but then sees Morell\\n\",\n \".\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n The family.\\n HARALD\\n Sweden.\\n\\n Blomkvist opens another shoebox. Lying on top is a\\n photograph of the bridge accident, and, under it, a few\\n more. He takes them out and angles them toward a lamp.\\n 114.\\n 114.\\n \\n\\n HARALD\\n Two point eight.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n \",\n \"ple of lamps throw\\n shadows on the walls which display hunting and military\\n trophies - wild game heads, sabers and vintage firearms -\\n some of Harald's dearer photographs - some photographs in\\n dusty frames.\\n\\n Blomkvist, alone in the room, looks at them: Swedish\\n Nazi leader in the 1930's.\\n\\n HARALD\\n Sven Olof Lindholm.\\n\\n The 92-year-old comes into the room from the kitchen,\\n followed\",\n \"BLOMKVIST\\n That's comforting. Are you hungry?\\n Want a sandwich?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n No.\\n Busy setting up her laptop on his desk, starting it up,\\n sitting down at it, she's all but ignoring him.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I used to have a motorcycle. When I\\n was 19.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I know.\\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What did he think about that?\\n HARRIET\\n Nothing. Only that he loved her.\\n She said, If you love me, you'll do\\n this and not ask why. He never did.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n They both died twenty years ago.\\n\\n HARRIET\\n A car accident. You found that, too.\\n\\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\\n pocket -\",\n \"s turned back\\n to her laptop, bringing up police reports and crime scene\\n photos.\\n SALANDER\\n Rebecka was the first, like you\\n thought ... M.H., is Mari Holmberg\\n - a prostitute in Kalmar - murdered\\n in 1954. Leviticus verse 20, line\\n 18.\\n 91.\\n 91.\\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\\n\\n BLOMK\",\n \"IN\\n How's the investigation?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nothing new to report.\\n\\n Blomkvist notices a drop of blood from his pantleg on\\n the stone floor and covers it up with his shoe. Martin,\\n not seeming to notice, finds a mini-Maglite in the\\n drawer.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Dirch says Ms. Salander is clever.\\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Maybe.\\n\",\n \"with purpose, goes into another room,\\n returns with a photo album. Leafs past wedding photos,\\n to honeymoon photos and stops on the only one she took\\n of the parade. She hands the album to Blomkvist.\\n\\n The snapshot shows the float with the harem girls in\\n foreground, and - in the background, across the street -\\n several out of focus figures -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Would you mind if I made a copy of\\n this?\\n181 EXT\",\n \" MORELL O/S\\n Of course I do, but what would it\\n have to do with anything?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nothing probably.\\n\\n As Blomkvist glances to the last page in Harriet's\\n address book, to R.J. 30114 -\\n\\n MORELL O/S\\n Jacobsson. Rebecka Jacobsson.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n How was she killed?\\n MORELL O\",\n \"half-away from the camera ...\\n HARRIET\\n I was 14 the first time he raped me.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Martin.\\n 145.\\n 145.\\n \\n\\n HARRIET\\n No, my father. He took this picture.\\n Martin didn't start until he died.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\\n BLOMKV\",\n \" 80.\\n 80.\\n \\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Your report on me was quite detailed\\n but for me not very entertaining.\\n\\n A copy of it sits next to his plate.\\n SALANDER\\n It wasn't meant to be.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n When I write about people, I try to\\n entertain the reader.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Wennerstrom wasn't entertained.\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"reveal a cluster of nine dusty framed dried flowers on a\\n wall.\\n 24.\\n 24.\\n \\n\\n VANGER\\n These were from her.\\n\\n And, on another wall, forty similarly-framed flowers -\\n VANGER\\n These, from her killer.\\n Blomkvist regards the forty ...\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Who knows about these?\\n\\n VANGER\\n Me, the police, the murderer ...\\n and now\",\n \"to have a\\n look at the problem she leaves: the victims list - now\\n with \\\"Gottfried\\\" jotted down next to all but one name:\\n 1967 - Lena Andersson - Uppsala\\n\\n Next to it, the newspaper article about the murdered\\n girl, with a school photo. And, next to that, the reason\\n there's no \\\"Gottfried\\\" notation: his obituary in a\\n Hedestad Courier clipping: 1965.\\n We listen to the fading echo of Sal\",\n \" Rebecka Jacobsson.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n How was she killed?\\n MORELL O/S\\n Decapitated. Arms cut off. Burned.\\n\\n Like the Leviticus dove. A siren. Ambulance coming\\n past, headed for the bridge.\\n\\n MORELL O/S\\n But this happened in the 1940's -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Hang on a second.\\n\\n He\",\n \"fills in the year field with - 1947-1966 - and\\n continues to types quickly. When we see what that is,\\n she's in the middle of typing this filters list -\\n Homicide\\n Female\\n Rape\\n Decapitation\\n Dismemberment\\n Fire\\n Altar\\n Priest\\n Prostitute\\n Unsolved\\n Mari\\n Magda\\n Sara\\n R.L.\\n\\n The search produces a screen showing matches to some of\\n the filter words\",\n \"one she\\n made earlier where the nine women were murdered. Dots\\n appear at the same locations on both.\\n\\n On a handwritten list of the victims, she puts a check\\n next to Rebecka Jacobsson, 1949, Hedestad - moves on to\\n Mari Holmberg, 1954, Kalmar - begins sifting through the\\n mountain of Vanger Industries clippings from that year -\\n 113.\\n 113.\\n \\n\\n206\",\n \"- at me - for\\n not being able to tell him what\\n happened to her.\\n (pause)\\n He didn't kill her. And his father\\n was dead the year before.\\n (pause)\\n What if she did somehow get away?\\n Could she have done that? Could she\\n have done it alone?\\n He goes up to his wall of suspects.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Is she's alive, there's only one\\n person in this\",\n \"as he turns\\nto that last page. On it, in neat handwriting:\\nMagda 32016 Sara 32109 R.J. 30114 R.L. 32027 Mari 32018\\n\\n MORELL\\n They're local Hedestad phone numbers.\\n The first belonged to a woman named\\n Margot, whose mother was Magda, who\\n claimed she didn't know Harriet. The\\n fourth, R.L., belonged to Rosemarie\\n\",\n \"this time. We moved on to a\\n neighbor. Then a vagrant -\\n\\n He pulls a thick, yellowed folder out and sits with it\\n and her at a table.\\n DET. ISAKSSON\\n Once you get to strangers, it's only\\n a matter of time before you get to\\n gypsies, and you know you're never\\n going to solve it.\\n And that troubles him still, that he never solved it.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n How exactly was she killed?\\n\",\n \"She moves off. Her friends look after\\n her confused. And then she's gone.\\n Blomkvist backs up to the frame of Harriet looking off\\n with fear in her eyes, and for the first time believes\\n without a doubt what Vanger has believed for 40 years:\\n\\n She was murdered. Whoever she saw across the street\\n followed her and killed her. The cat watches him.\\n126 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\\n\\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\",\n \"\\n VANGER\\n She was bright and curious, a\\n winning combination in any person.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n And beautiful.\\n Vanger nods as he regards the photo ...\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Something happened to her?\\n\\n Vanger nods again; is silent for several moments ...\\n VANGER\\n Someone in the family murdered\\n Harriet and for the last forty years\\n has been trying to drive me insane.\\n33 OMIT:\",\n \"already know.\\n\\n He finds several more that appear to be a hunting\\n expedition - men and blood hounds - but then sees Morell\\n in one, more policemen, and a stricken Henrik in boots\\n and raincoat, and realizes this is the search party. Off\\n to the side, a young man, head turned half away, wearing\\n a dark blazer with a gold patch, which that 2.8 Zeiss\\n lens makes clear is a prep school insignia. A lion.\\n HARALD\\n Land\",\n \"lifts him\\n onto his tiptoes.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n What happened to her.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You're choking me -\\n MARTIN\\n You found her?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You killed her.\\n\\n Martin just stares at him confused. Then -\\n\\n MARTIN\\n You useless fuckin detective.\\n 132.\\n 132.\\n \\n\\nHe\",\n \" well. She left early. But they also\\n said she kept secrets from them, too.\\n The main thing I learned talking to\\n them for hours is that teenage girls\\n are complicated.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I have one.\\n\\n MORELL\\n So you know.\\n (Blomkvist does indeed)\\n Did you bring the last gift Henrik\\n received?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's at the National Forensic Lab.\\n\\n MORELL\\n\",\n \" MORELL O/S\\n Of course I do, but what would it\\n have to do with anything?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nothing probably.\\n\\n As Blomkvist glances to the last page in Harriet's\\n address book, to R.J. 30114 -\\n\\n MORELL O/S\\n Jacobsson. Rebecka Jacobsson.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n How was she killed?\\n MORELL O\",\n \", 1960. A runaway.\\n Raped, strangled, a burnt pigeon\\n tied around her neck. Lena\\n Andersson, 1967, a student. Raped,\\n stabbed, decapitated -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Okay -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I'm not done -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's all right, we're looking for a\\n serial murderer ... But what\",\n \"you.\\n\\nThey hear a distant rifle crack and echo. It startles\\nBlomkvist a bit, but not Vanger.\\n\\n VANGER\\n Someone shooting their dinner.\\n Gunner probably. The caretaker.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I just met him.\\n VANGER\\n He was 19 when Harriet disappeared.\\n\\nOld enough, Blomkvist gathers, to be considered a\\nsuspect. Vanger points off -\\n VANGER\\n He lives over there.\",\n \". He checks a scribbled floor plan of\\n the manor and sees that it's Harriet's bedroom.\\n\\n But he's not sure if it's Harriet. The figure is too\\n soft to identify - even with a magnifying glass - but is\\n wearing a light-colored dress and has light hair.\\n He glances to the family tree on the wall - the teenage\\n Vanger girls' photos -\\n\\n Three INSERTS: Harriet ... Cecelia ... Anita ...\\n\\n They all have light hair, and\",\n \"was killed that day, soon\\n after seeing something across the\\n street that frightened her.\\n\\n MILDRED\\n How awful.\\n 101.\\n 101.\\n \\n\\n Blomkvist nods; Mildred takes a closer look at the photo.\\n\\n MILDRED\\n She does look terrified.\\n Mildred gets up with purpose, goes into another room,\\n returns with a photo album. Leafs past wedding photos,\\n to honeymoon photos and\",\n \"door. Hears classical music playing\\n softly inside, but no one answers. She tries the door.\\n It's unlocked. The gift in hand, she pushes it open.\\n\\n She comes into an apartment which looks like it could\\n belong to a professor. Sees a chess piece on the floor.\\n Then a trail of them that lead her to an overturned chess\\n table and, next to it, a body.\\n The gash on the old man's head could have been caused\\n by a fall into the corner of the table,\",\n \"'s pauses at a landing to steady himself and his\\n labored breathing.\\n\\n VANGER\\n No. Someone killed her, Mr.\\n Blomkvist. Someone on the island\\n that day. Someone close enough to\\n know what she used to give me each\\n year on my birthday.\\n He unlocks the door of the attic and pushes it open to\\n reveal a cluster of nine dusty framed dried flowers on a\\n wall.\\n 24.\\n 24\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n Blomkvist knocks on the door. Anita pulls it open.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's me. Sorry to bother you.\\n\\n She doesn't invite him in, but doesn't shut the door in\\n his face either.\\n ANITA\\n What do you want?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n No one's called you?\\n\\n ANITA\\n About.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n ANITA\\n I never saw it myself, but you could\\n tell something was going on. One day\\n she'd be withdrawn. The next she'd\\n be putting on makeup and wearing the\\n tightest sweater she had to school.\\n The next she'd be studying a Bible\\n like a nun - no Vanger was ever\\n religious - can you imagine?\\n Obviously, she was very unhappy.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She never confided in you what about,\\n specifically?\\n \",\n \"she was very unhappy.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She never confided in you what about,\\n specifically?\\n ANITA\\n There was no specifically. It was\\n everything. It was being part of\\n that family. Henrik's the only\\n decent person in it.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What do you think happened to her?\\n\\n ANITA\\n Everyone knows what.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n But you have no ... thoughts about\\n why, or\",\n \"the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\\nwas about 17 years old.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n She knew Harriet better than anyone -\\n certainly better than I did. You\\n should talk to her.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'd love to, where is she.\\n CECILIA\\n If I had to guess - London.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You don't know where your own sister\\n lives?\\n\\n CECILIA\\n \",\n \"one's called you?\\n\\n ANITA\\n About.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Your cousin.\\n\\n She has two, but doesn't ask which -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Martin.\\n\\n ANITA\\n What about him?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n He died last Thursday. A car\\n accident. I'm sorry.\\n (nothing from her)\\n There's going to be\",\n \".\\n\\n ANITA\\n What do you understand?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n That you don't really care for any of\\n your relatives. Still, I thought you\\n should know.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Now I know.\\n\\n And now, she closes the door.\\n 142.\\n 142.\\n \\n\\n244 OMIT: INT. ANITA'S HOUSE - LOND\",\n \"That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Okay, what.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I was just thinking, there could be\\n one other possibility.\\n\\n248 OMIT: INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - NIGHT 248\\n249 INT. INVESTMENT BANK - LONDON - DAY 249\\n\\n Blomkvist taps on Anita'\",\n \"Thursday. A car\\n accident. I'm sorry.\\n (nothing from her)\\n There's going to be a memorial in\\n Hedestad. I know you haven't been\\n back there in a long time, but -\\n ANITA\\n I'm not interested in any memorial.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I understand.\\n\\n ANITA\\n What do you understand?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n That you don\",\n \"The accent is all British. She's been here much longer\\n than her home country. No trace of Swedish anymore. He\\n offers his hand -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm Mikael.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Mikael. How do you do.\\n\\n As he sits, she regards him a little more carefully ...\\n\\n ANITA\\n You're looking for investment\\n counseling, Mikael?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I would if had any money to invest.\",\n \" ANITA\\nShe was messed up. Like all us\\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\\nfather. At least hers wasn't a Nazi\\nlike mine.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nWas he abusive?\\n\\n ANITA\\nMine?\\n BLOMKVIST\\nHers.\\n 52.\\n 52.\\n \\n\\n ANITA\\n I never saw it myself, but you could\\n tell something was going on. One day\\n she'\",\n \"\\npoliceman - when it happened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\nMorell.\\n\\n ANITA\\nMy recollections then were a lot\\nbetter than they are now.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nI'm not speaking of the crime itself.\\nI'm trying to get a clearer sense of\\nwhat Harriet was like. Particularly,\\ntoward the end.\\n\\n ANITA\\nShe was messed up. Like all us\\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\\nfather. At least hers\",\n \"hung me\\n from a hook ... Harriet.\\n250 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 250\\n They sit together on a park bench.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Anita married in Stockholm in 1967.\\n It's recorded in the Swedish General\\n Register. But the family never knew,\\n did they.\\n (she confirms that with a\\n shake of her head)\\n I'm guessing she then\",\n \"car outside her father Harald's\\n house. Drives down the road toward the bridge.\\n ANITA\\n Stay absolutely still.\\n\\n The blanket covering Harriet on the backseat floorboard\\n moves slightly, then is still.\\n A policeman on the island side of the bridge waves the\\n car across it. As it heads along the mainland service\\n road toward the highway -\\n HARRIET V/O\\n She saved me.\\n\\n258 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY\",\n \"it really matter what her name\\n is?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It would if I wanted to speak to her,\\n which I do.\\n ARMANSKY\\n Against policy.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You sure?\\n\\n ARMANSKY\\n Just like your sources. You\\n understand.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Let me give you a name then.\\n\\n He jots \\\"Annika Giannini\\\" on one of Armansky's Post-I\",\n \"\\nI wouldn't know where to start, if\\nthat was a question.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nI can narrow it. I've gotten up to\\nthe 1960s. To the event that altered\\neverything in Henrik's life.\\n ANITA\\nHarriet.\\n (he nods)\\nEverything I knew about that I told\\nto - whatever his name was - that\\npoliceman - when it happened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\nMorell.\\n\\n ANITA\\nMy recollections\",\n \"ANITA\\n Everyone knows what.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n But you have no ... thoughts about\\n why, or who.\\n ANITA\\n All I know is I always felt sorry\\n for her. Even more than for myself.\\n I got out of there when I was 18 and\\n never went back. She would have done\\n the same but didn't make it to 18.\\n96 EXT. STOCKHOLM - DAY 96\\n\\n Salander, on\",\n \"s.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Is she's alive, there's only one\\n person in this family who would know\\n where she is.\\n\\n He takes the photo of Anita down from the wall.\\n\\n239 INT. HOSPITAL - DAY 239\\n Henrik sits in one of the chairs. Blomkvist in another.\\n Salander prefers to stand. Eventually -\\n VANGER\\n Poor Martin.\\n\\n Clearly, he hasn\",\n \"BLOMKVIST\\n He was my age then, and so couldn't\\n know what was really going on with a\\n teenager any more than I can with my\\n own daughter. You were her age.\\n 46.\\n 46.\\n \\n\\n CECILIA\\n Actually, my sister Anita was closer\\n to her in age.\\n\\nINSERT of the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\\nwas about 17 years old.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n She\",\n \"He tugs his shirt collar low enough to reveal the black\\n and blue \\\"tattoo\\\" around his neck. Anita is taken aback\\n by the sight. It's hard to imagine how anyone would end\\n up with a mark like that.\\n 144.\\n 144.\\n \\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Before he died, your brother hung me\\n from a hook ... Harriet.\\n250 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY \",\n \"Behind her, Harriet packs a few items of clothing.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Don't take anything.\\n Harriet puts the clothes back. Picks up her purse.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Leave that, too.\\n\\n256 INT. VANGER MANOR - NIGHT - 1966 256\\n\\n The dinner that night. Vanger noticing Harriet's empty\\n chair. And Anita saying nothing, taking a bite of food.\\n\\n257 EXT\"\n ],\n [\n \"of the oar down, burying it in his head\\n like an axe.\\n\\n He stares up her, uncomprehending. His fingers slide\\n away from the dock. His body goes limp and sinks out of\\n sight beneath the water.\\n HARRIET V/O\\n When it was finally over I looked\\n up, and Martin was standing there -\\n\\n She sees her brother up by the cabin looking down at her.\\n HARRIET V/O\\n With a little smile.\\n\",\n \"The rain does nothing to dampen it. She could\\n probably brave it to pull Martin out - but doesn't.\\n As the flames burn his clothes, he manages to get his\\n hands on the rifle he took from the den, turns its barrel\\n to his bloody head - but before he can pull the trigger,\\n she hurries over, yanks it from his grasp and stands back\\n again. It's much more cathartic to watch him burn ...\\n 135.\\n 135.\\n \\n\\n\",\n \"for the kill, but she veers\\n hard to one side, leaving him headed straight for the gas\\n station Blomkvist makes his pay phone calls from - and\\n the tanker truck parked there -\\n\\n Martin hits the brakes - hydroplanes into the truck - and\\n its, or his own tank, or both, explode -\\n Salander circles back. Regards the fire engulfing the\\n car. The rain does nothing to dampen it. She could\\n probably brave it to pull Martin out - but doesn't.\\n As the flames burn\",\n \"a roll of\\ncellophane, pulls on the strap again until Blomkvist is\\nbalancing on his tiptoes, and ties it off.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Too tight to talk?\\nIt is. Blomkvist can utter no sound but a gag.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Good. I'm tired of talking to you.\\n\\nHe wraps Blomkvist's head in cellophane, completely\\ncutting off his ability to breathe, and calmly watches\\nhim struggle. ...\\n MART\",\n \"lifts him\\n onto his tiptoes.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n What happened to her.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You're choking me -\\n MARTIN\\n You found her?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You killed her.\\n\\n Martin just stares at him confused. Then -\\n\\n MARTIN\\n You useless fuckin detective.\\n 132.\\n 132.\\n \\n\\nHe\",\n \".\\n \\\"Maybe if I say the right thing - if\\n I'm polite - or I cry and beg - maybe\\n I'll survive.\\\"\\n (regards Blomkvist)\\n And then the moment comes when they\\n realize ... no, all hope is gone.\\n (MORE)\\n 130.\\n 130.\\n \\n MARTIN (CONT'D)\\n And when that happens - when I see\\n the hope draining from their face\\n like it\",\n \"\\n\\n LIV\\n I found him at death's door halfway\\n up the hill.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm afraid I'm a bit out of shape.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n No, it's a climb for anyone. I\\n should've warned you. Come on in.\\n\\n Blomkvist puts a bottle of aquavit in Martin's hand.\\n82 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 82\\n\\n The place is far\",\n \"'s head in cellophane, completely\\ncutting off his ability to breathe, and calmly watches\\nhim struggle. ...\\n MARTIN\\n Would you like me to do something\\n about that?\\n\\nBlomkvist desperately nods as he's about to suffocate.\\nMartin watches another several moments ... then pokes a\\nfinger through the cellophane into Blomkvist's gasping\\nmouth.\\n MARTIN\\n See? I'm not a monster.\\nHe frames a wide shot of his naked prey. Turns\",\n \"school in Uppsala. And I\\n thought maybe - maybe - the nightmare\\n was over. Until that day.\\n The float with the harem girls comes past, and we watch\\n the smile on young Harriet's face change to fear as she\\n notices something off to the left.\\n HARRIET V/O\\n There he was - across the street -\\n looking at me with that same little\\n smile on his face.\\n\\n A clear shot of young Martin in his Uppsala blazer\",\n \"room, and down the hall to the study. She\\n eases around the doorway - the room is empty - looks to\\n the gun case - sees there are only two rifles there now.\\n She hears an engine start outside. Hurries back through\\n the house. Sees out the picture window the taillights of\\n Martin's car receding fast down the road as clouds burst.\\n\\n She bangs out the front door. Runs halfway down the\\n hill in the rain to where she left her motorcycle, jumps\\n on and kick-starts\",\n \"go hunting.\\n\\nMartin pulls open a bar drawer and takes from it a\\nhandgun.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n A gun. Rather than a knife.\\n\\nHe gives a little gesture with it to the handle of the\\nknife protruding from a back pocket of Blomkvist's jeans.\\nThere are fresh drops of blood on the floor next to his\\nshoes.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n You just couldn't stay away, could\\n you.\\n\\nBlomkvist doesn't know what to say. Martin's\",\n \"'t get a grip. Martin watches the struggle\\ncalmly, and just as calmly offers:\\n\\n MARTIN\\n It's time. I don't want to be late\\n for my date with our girlfriend.\\n 133.\\n 133.\\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\\n\\nHe puts on a plastic rain poncho. A painter's mask.\\nPlastic goggles. Surgeons gloves. Picks up a hunting\\nknife. Steps\",\n \"omkvist who only witnessed part\\nof the spectacle before losing consciousness -\\n\\nShe saws through the leather strap around his neck.\\nUnlocks the chain. As he sinks to his knees on the\\nfloor, blood rushes to his head, bringing him back to\\nlife just enough to see what she can't behind her -\\n\\nMartin, blood streaming from the gash in his head,\\ngetting to his feet. But he's not coming at them; he's\\ntrying to get out -\\n\\nBlomkvist tries to say her name to get her\",\n \" You'd never think the fear of\\n offending could be stronger than the\\n fear of pain - but you know what? It\\n is. They always come willingly.\\n\\nIt amazes him. It always amazes him. He keeps working.\\n MARTIN\\n And then they're here. They know\\n it's over like you do - and still\\n somehow think they have a chance.\\n \\\"Maybe if I say the right thing - if\\n I'm polite - or I cry and beg - maybe\\n I'll\",\n \"ael?\\n (he manages a nod)\\n We're going to the same place.\\n Hop in.\\n\\n81 EXT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - EVENING 81\\n\\n Martin, wearing an apron, opens the door to find both his\\n dinner guests on the porch.\\n 41.\\n 41.\\n \\n\\n LIV\\n I found him at death's door halfway\\n up the hill.\\n\\n BLOMKV\",\n \"poncho. A painter's mask.\\nPlastic goggles. Surgeons gloves. Picks up a hunting\\nknife. Steps up to Blomkvist. Looks at his eyes.\\nBrings his own head close to his victim's -\\n MARTIN\\n Goodbye, Mikael.\\nHe pulls the strap, lifting Blomkvist's toes off the\\nfloor, closing off his air again ... and is about to gut\\nhim like a wild boar ... when he hears a sound like some\\nkind of animal behind him ...\\n\\nHe\",\n \".\\n Another immigrant whore. Who misses\\n them?\\n\\n He returns to his work bench to lay out various tools\\n next to his gun and a desk phone.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Your sister wasn't just another girl.\\n Martin comes back quickly and yanks a strap that cinches\\n the noose tighter around Blomkvist's neck as it lifts him\\n onto his tiptoes.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n What happened to her.\\n\\n BLO\",\n \"he died.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Why didn't you tell someone?\\n HARRIET\\n I did. My mother.\\n\\n Blomkvist stares. Finally -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Henrik would have done something.\\n\\n HARRIET\\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\\n told him. But I was afraid because\",\n \" company in the country. At the\\n height, we had 40,000 employees. We\\n have about half that now, and that\\n downward slide - anyone can tell you -\\n began after my sister's death. It\\n broke Henrik's entrepreneurial\\n spirit, and his heart.\\n\\nAnd Martin's, too, clearly. Blomkvist dares to ask, as\\ninnocently as possible -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You were here that day?\\n\\n MARTIN\\n\",\n \"passes a window, it\\n lights up - and we again hit the ground with him.\\n He hurries across the yard, trips over something in the\\n dark - a sprinkler? - and goes down again into wet muck.\\n\\n He gets up and starts down the road as if returning from\\n a leisurely evening walk - which would be more convincing\\n without the limp - not daring to look back as he goes.\\n 120.\\n 120.\\n \\n\\n MARTIN O\"\n ],\n [\n \" We can talk about it now.\\n (Blomkvist glances to Liv)\\n Liv knows everything about my crazy\\n family. Which is why she'll never\\n marry me.\\n\\n LIV\\n That's one reason.\\n\\nShe holds up her left hand. A wedding ring is on it.\\nThe couple seems very comfortable with each other, not\\nunlike Blomkvist and Erika.\\n MARTIN\\n Don't put that in your book.\\n Anything else is fine. Harriet\\n certainly. Everything changed\",\n \"262\\n\\n Blomkvist and Salander sit out by the water, sharing\\n the last cigarette in his pack. Her arm is draped over\\n his shoulder, which strikes him as the most tender of\\n gestures, coming from her.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Fuck these people ...\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Yeah ...\\n SALANDER\\n Harriet most of all.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Excuse me?\\n\\n SALANDER\",\n \"t\\n because Harriet is indeed dead.\\n247 INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - LATER - NIGHT 247\\n\\n It's strange perhaps, but he does some of his best\\n thinking during sex -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I was just thinking. What if -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Ten more seconds.\\n That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Okay, what\",\n \"HARRIET V/O\\n She saved me.\\n\\n258 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 258\\n Silence. Then she gestures to Blomkvist's neck.\\n\\n HARRIET\\n How did you get away?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Someone saved me, too.\\n 148.\\n 148.\\n \\n\\n He gestures off to the thin, strange girl sitting on\",\n \"KVIST\\n So can I.\\n\\n She takes the blanket from him and sits with it on the\\n couch. He watches her a moment.\\n 94.\\n 94.\\n \\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Okay.\\n (heads off to the bedroom)\\n Good night.\\n SALANDER\\n Night.\\n She switches off the lamp. Then, in a moment, in the\\n dark -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Har\",\n \"He nods. She nods.\\n SALANDER\\n What are you doing later?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Seeing my daughter.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Okay.\\n\\n She nods. He nods.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You look nice.\\n SALANDER\\n Thanks.\\n\\n He nods. She nods. Erika regards them from inside the\\n conference room. Salander climbs back on her motor\",\n \"he died.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Why didn't you tell someone?\\n HARRIET\\n I did. My mother.\\n\\n Blomkvist stares. Finally -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Henrik would have done something.\\n\\n HARRIET\\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\\n told him. But I was afraid because\",\n \"'s last chance at some\\n kind of resolution. Put this to rest\\n for him one way of the other, and\\n I'll try to keep my mother away.\\n But, please, do it as quickly as you\\n can.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'll (try) -\\n\\nThey glance off to the sound of a motorcycle. It\\nappears, roars up, parks. Salander climbs off it and\\nshoulders a duffel bag. Blomkvist seems surprised to see\\nher.\\n\\n \",\n \"That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Okay, what.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I was just thinking, there could be\\n one other possibility.\\n\\n248 OMIT: INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - NIGHT 248\\n249 INT. INVESTMENT BANK - LONDON - DAY 249\\n\\n Blomkvist taps on Anita'\",\n \"ansky values you so\\n highly. Your work is very good.\\n SALANDER\\n It interests me.\\n\\n He takes a blanket from the back of a chair.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'll take the couch. You can have\\n the bed.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I can sleep on a couch.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n So can I.\\n\\n She takes the blanket from him and sits with it on the\\n couch. He watches her\",\n \"Salander?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She said yes.\\n\\n Isabella gets up to come over -\\n BLOMVIST\\n (to Frode)\\n Can I see Henrik?\\n\\n FRODE\\n He was asleep when I last looked in.\\n We can check.\\n 86.\\n 86.\\n\\n\\n ISABELLA\\n No, you can't check. You can\\n instruct him to pack his things and\\n \",\n \". Then -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm pretty sure this isn't a good\\n idea.\\n SALANDER\\n Why.\\n\\n He extracts his head from the cocoon and looks at her.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Apart from the fact that I'm old, we\\n work together.\\n SALANDER\\n You work with what's-her-name.\\n That's worked out for you.\\n\\n\",\n \"BLOMKVIST\\n That's comforting. Are you hungry?\\n Want a sandwich?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n No.\\n Busy setting up her laptop on his desk, starting it up,\\n sitting down at it, she's all but ignoring him.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I used to have a motorcycle. When I\\n was 19.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I know.\\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\\n \",\n \" 4.\\n 4.\\n \\n\\n ERIKA\\n Where you been?\\n\\nErika Berger is about Blomkvist's age, and - like the\\nIKEA furniture - sends a mixed message: a feminist in a\\nmini-skirt.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Walking. Thinking.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n Smoking?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Just one.\\nHe sits, exhausted and depressed, in\",\n \" she's feeling as she turns onto Blomkvist's street.\\n\\n She parks. Gathers the garment bag and card, walks under\\n construction scaffolding toward his apartment building.\\n\\n From around the corner ahead, Blomkvist and Erika appear.\\n He says something and she laughs, puts her arm around his\\n waist and lays her head against his neck scarf.\\n\\n Salander stops mid-stride, ducks into an alcove under the\\n scaffolding, waits as long as it should take them to get\\n\",\n \"Finally they separate, but only to allow Blomkvist to\\n unlock the door. Erika takes his hand then, and they\\n disappear inside.\\n 165.\\n 165.\\n\\n\\nSalander can't move. Waits for the pain to subside -\\nwhich it eventually does - but only to be replaced with a\\nsense of helplessness. Then that subsides, replaced with\\na facade of insouciance.\\n\\nThe richest girl in Sweden emerges from the alcove and\\n\",\n \"does the\\n girl know?\\n\\n Blomkvist isn't sure how to play that question ...\\n MARTIN\\n Let's hope it's as much as you.\\n That'll make it more fun. Where is\\n she?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Stockholm. She went there this\\n morning.\\n MARTIN\\n And that's a lie. She's sitting in\\n our offices looking at more old crap.\\n Our archives manager called me - very\\n perturbed\",\n \"'s done.\\n225 EXT. VANGER ARCHIVES BUILDING - NIGHT 225\\n\\n Crossing the empty parking lot, she tries Blomkvist on\\n her cell. Gets his voice mail. Kick-starts her bike.\\n226 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 226\\n\\n Martin \\\"leads\\\" Blomkvist from behind back to the kitchen,\\n switching off lights as they go.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n You know what\",\n \"watching him. Is she actually there, or\\n part of a dream? He looks at her a long moment, then\\n tries out his voice -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n How is it someone who's 23 is a ward\\n of the state?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I'm mentally incompetent and can't\\n manage daily life.\\n\\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\\n\\n BLOMKV\",\n \"ander and the girl from the club, asleep in bed,\\n entwined like snakes.\\n\\n Salander wakes, disentangles herself, and is padding to\\n the bathroom when there's a knock on her door.\\n She stares it. No one ever knocks on her door. But\\n someone knocks on it again. She crosses to it, wrapping\\n herself in a blanket.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Who is it?\\n BLOMKVIST O/S\\n Mikael Blomkv\"\n ],\n [\n \"?\\n (no indication that he can)\\n I miss our meetings.\\n (pause)\\n I'm sure you don't. Why would you?\\n I was always such a headache for you.\\n Never showing up with good news.\\n Only problems.\\n (pause)\\n I have some good news now. I've made\\n a friend. I mean one that you'd\\n approve of.\\n (pause)\\n I'm happy.\\n\\n One of Palmgren's hands manages\",\n \"\\n approve of.\\n (pause)\\n I'm happy.\\n\\n One of Palmgren's hands manages to pull slightly away\\n from the other, tries to reach for her, perhaps, but only\\n makes it about an inch. She reaches over and holds it.\\n\\n295 EXT. SPAIN - DAY 295\\n A reporter bundled-up outside a low-rent building\\n cordoned off with police tape -\\n\\n REPORTER\\n Behind the walls of this dingy\",\n \"iting social welfare building.\\n\\n79 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - DAY 79\\n\\n As a man behind a desk reviews a thick file, Salander\\n reviews him: About 50; spends money on suits, thinking\\n that might disguise his public servant status; no wedding\\n ring; typical creep, as far as she's concerned.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\\n \",\n \" Sven Olof Lindholm.\\n\\n The 92-year-old comes into the room from the kitchen,\\n followed by a housekeeper with a tea tray. Indicates the\\n younger man in the photo, also in a Nazi uniform, that\\n Blomkvist is looking at.\\n HARALD\\n Me.\\n\\n Blomkvist nods. Has no idea what to say. But Harald\\n waits for more of a response. Finally -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n \",\n \" BJURMAN\\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\\n (nothing from Salander)\\n Terrible.\\n\\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\\n through her file -\\n BJURMAN\\n What exactly do you do at this\\n security company?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Make coffee and sort mail.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n But not full-time. Not even part\",\n \"talk to her.\\n SALANDER\\n Please.\\n21 INT. ICU - SODER HOSPITAL - LATER - NIGHT 21\\n Not allowed to go inside, she peers through glass at\\n Palmgren, who is unaware of her, or the nurse attending\\n him, or even himself. A spiderweb of tubes emerge from\\n his neck and wrists; oxygen tubes from his nostrils.\\n\\n DOCTOR V/O\\n He's had severe cerebral\\n\",\n \"to say. But Harald\\n waits for more of a response. Finally -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Handsome.\\n\\n HARALD\\n (taps another)\\n Birger Furugard. Me.\\n (and another)\\n Per Engdahl.\\n (and another)\\n Me.\\n\\n Blomkvist's eyes shift to a bolt-action Mauser infantry\\n rifle displayed on a shelf ...\\n\\n HARALD\\n \",\n \"ple of lamps throw\\n shadows on the walls which display hunting and military\\n trophies - wild game heads, sabers and vintage firearms -\\n some of Harald's dearer photographs - some photographs in\\n dusty frames.\\n\\n Blomkvist, alone in the room, looks at them: Swedish\\n Nazi leader in the 1930's.\\n\\n HARALD\\n Sven Olof Lindholm.\\n\\n The 92-year-old comes into the room from the kitchen,\\n followed\",\n \"isn't sure what Blomkvist means.\\nThen he is, and is pleased by it.\\n 33.\\n 33.\\n \\n\\n VANGER\\n Yes, you're right. The man who\\n hires the detective should always be\\n kept on the suspects list.\\n66A OMIT - INT. COTTAGE - DAY 66A\\n\\n\\n67 INT. PALMGREN'S APARTMENT - DAY \",\n \"on it. Peels it off. Dials a call on her\\n cell. Hangs up when it goes to voice mail.\\n\\nA18 EXT. PALMGREN'S APARTMENT - ESTABLISHING A18\\n18 INT. PALMGREN'S APARTMENT - STOCKHOLM - DAY 18\\n\\n She knocks on a door. Hears classical music playing\\n softly inside, but no one answers. She tries the door.\\n It's unlocked. The gift\",\n \"MAN\\n Do you think that ring in your eyelid\\n makes you attractive?\\n\\nSalander, who's had to suffer insufferable officials all\\nher life, doesn't dignify the question with an answer.\\n BJURMAN\\n Here's the problem. There a\\n discrepancy between the obligation of\\n Mr. Palmgren's guardianship and the\\n management of your finances.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\\n It was clear to him I\",\n \"the first time since we've met her, she looks vulnerable.\\n The doors swing open. A doctor steps out. Salander gets\\n up to hear his report -\\n\\n DOCTOR\\n You're Mr. Palmgren's daughter?\\n SALANDER\\n His ward. He doesn't have a\\n daughter.\\n\\n The doctor isn't sure then if he should talk to her.\\n SALANDER\\n Please.\\n21 INT. ICU - SODER HOSPITAL\",\n \"in Goteborg.\\n When it was sold, I went with it.\\n MARTIN\\n A dark day.\\n\\n LIV\\n I live in Hong Kong now, but come\\n back to Stockholm for family events,\\n and when I do, I drive up to spend a\\n couple days with Martin.\\n MARTIN\\n She comes for the moose steak.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Is that what this is?\\n\\n They all glance away to a sound: A soft, strange,\\n \",\n \"biography.\\n LIV\\n I love Henrik. He's fascinating.\\n Martin, too. Together they're the\\n Old Sweden and the New.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n They are.\\n LIV\\n You know about Harriet, right?\\n\\nBlomkvist doesn't say. The sound of the wind stops.\\n LIV\\n You don't?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I do.\\n\\nMartin emerges from the cellar with a bottle\",\n \"Henrik the\\n Christmas before. I studied it more\\n times than I can say. I know every\\n page of it.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's the last page I'm curious about.\\n MORELL\\n As was I.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n The only names not alphabetized.\\nMorell nods that he knows that only too well as he turns\\nto that last page. On it, in neat handwriting:\\nMagda 32016 Sara 3210\",\n \"i\\n Holmberg and the 1954 Vanger files.\\n\\n210 INT. COTTAGE - EVENING 210\\n Blomkvist flips through one of Morell's reports stating\\n everyone's whereabouts on the day Harriet's disappeared.\\n\\n INSERT: Across from Martin Vanger's name it reads:\\n \\\"Arrived on 4:30 train.\\\"\\n\\n He brings up the Photoshop-enhanced Brannlund parade\\n photo on\",\n \"school in Uppsala. And I\\n thought maybe - maybe - the nightmare\\n was over. Until that day.\\n The float with the harem girls comes past, and we watch\\n the smile on young Harriet's face change to fear as she\\n notices something off to the left.\\n HARRIET V/O\\n There he was - across the street -\\n looking at me with that same little\\n smile on his face.\\n\\n A clear shot of young Martin in his Uppsala blazer\",\n \"to have a\\n look at the problem she leaves: the victims list - now\\n with \\\"Gottfried\\\" jotted down next to all but one name:\\n 1967 - Lena Andersson - Uppsala\\n\\n Next to it, the newspaper article about the murdered\\n girl, with a school photo. And, next to that, the reason\\n there's no \\\"Gottfried\\\" notation: his obituary in a\\n Hedestad Courier clipping: 1965.\\n We listen to the fading echo of Sal\",\n \" Indeed he was.\\n\\n Vanger's look to Blomkvist adds, `so consider him a\\n suspect.' He indicates another house on the grounds -\\n VANGER\\n That's his daughter Cecilia's house.\\n They don't speak.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Does anyone speak to anyone on this\\n island?\\n\\n VANGER\\n Actually, Isabella - Harriet's mother\\n - who lives there -\\n (points)\\n - she speaks to Harald\",\n \"sorry. I'm about to sit down to\\n Christmas dinner myself.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n That's not what I mean.\\n\\n FRODE O/S\\n You're referring to your recent\\n legal trouble. That has provided Mr.\\n Vanger with some entertainment.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Excuse me?\\n\\n FRODE O/S\\n He doesn't care for Wennerstrom\\n either.\\n\\n Frode\"\n ],\n [\n \"SALANDER\\n I've been on my own since I was\\n twelve.\\n BJURMAN\\n No. You've been a persistent burden\\n to the State since you were twelve.\\n\\n She won't look at him any more - not that there's\\n anything even remotely interesting to see if she did.\\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\\n Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\\n Because this is important.\\n She does ... in a way that says, I\",\n \"watching him. Is she actually there, or\\n part of a dream? He looks at her a long moment, then\\n tries out his voice -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n How is it someone who's 23 is a ward\\n of the state?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I'm mentally incompetent and can't\\n manage daily life.\\n\\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\\n\\n BLOMKV\",\n \"MAN\\n Do you think that ring in your eyelid\\n makes you attractive?\\n\\nSalander, who's had to suffer insufferable officials all\\nher life, doesn't dignify the question with an answer.\\n BJURMAN\\n Here's the problem. There a\\n discrepancy between the obligation of\\n Mr. Palmgren's guardianship and the\\n management of your finances.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\\n It was clear to him I\",\n \"ances.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\\n It was clear to him I could manage my\\n own finances.\\n BJURMAN\\n But that's not clear to me.\\n SALANDER\\n I'm not a child.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n No. You're not.\\n (looks at her too long)\\n But you were. And between then and\\n now -\\n (indicating the files)\\n\",\n \"- DAY 66A\\n\\n\\n67 INT. PALMGREN'S APARTMENT - DAY 67\\n\\n A nurse takes a tray away, leaving Salander alone with\\n Palmgren, separated by the chess table they won't playing\\n a game on. She wipes his mouth with her sleeve.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I got a call from social welfare.\\n I've been assigned a new guardian.\\n\\n It's unlikely he understands what she has said.\",\n \" Silence. Armansky tries not to look sick. Then -\\n 78.\\n 78.\\n \\n\\n ARMANSKY\\n The reason you can find no record of\\n her is because her records have been\\n sealed. She's a ward of the State.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What does that have to do with\\n anything.\\n ARMANSKY\\n She's had a rough life. Can we not\\n \",\n \". Leave\\n the keys with the guard.\\n\\n The woman leaves. Her footsteps echo and fade. Salander\\n reads a yellowed clipping from a Landskrona newspaper:\\n 116.\\n 116.\\n \\n\\n It's about Vanger Industries hiring a local contractor,\\n Carlen Construction, to build a plant. Gottfried Vanger -\\n here to sign the contract.\\n\\n But all that really interests Salander is the date. The\\n article was published one day\",\n \" BJURMAN\\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\\n (nothing from Salander)\\n Terrible.\\n\\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\\n through her file -\\n BJURMAN\\n What exactly do you do at this\\n security company?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Make coffee and sort mail.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n But not full-time. Not even part\",\n \".\\n And that troubles him still, that he never solved it.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n How exactly was she killed?\\n\\n DET. ISAKSSON\\n Miss - I'm sorry -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Salander.\\n DET. ISAKSSON\\n Miss Salander, if you don't mind my\\n asking, when's the last time you ate?\\n 85.\\n 85.\\n \\n\\n SALAND\",\n \"a\\n fool did he make of himself\\n financially?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n The judgement will just about empty\\n his savings.\\nThis seems to please Frode more than anything else that\\nhas been said, and Salander sees it.\\n SALANDER\\n May I go?\\n\\n FRODE\\n Your report is light in another\\n area. His personal life. Anything\\n you chose not to include?\\n SALANDER\\n Nothing that warranted inclusion.\\n\\n FRODE\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Since when have they said that.\\n SALANDER\\n Since I was twelve.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Something happened when you were\\n twelve?\\n\\n She doesn't say. Just studies him ...\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's all right, you don't have to\\n tell me anything\",\n \"was stupid. I got something from\\n an anonymous source, who I'm sure now\\n worked for him. It was fake. Which\\n he easily proved in court.\\n Not a good day, that. Then -\\n SALANDER\\n You were emphatic that the way I\\n looked into your life was illegal and\\n immoral. Would you feel the same\\n about Wennerstrom?\\n\\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\\n SALANDER\\n I\",\n \"Salander. Bjurman seems a\\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\\n 66.\\n 66.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I need more money. I need to pay my\\n rent.\\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Come on in.\",\n \" Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\\n Because this is important.\\n She does ... in a way that says, I'd like to kill you.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n This behavior you're displaying\\n right now is elaborately documented\\n here -\\n (in the file)\\n - so it would come as a shock to no\\n one if I chose an alternative to the\\n lenient arrangement I just outlined.\\n Is that what you're saying with your\\n \",\n \"SALANDER\\n I will kill you.\\nAnd he knows she means it.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Do you doubt anything I've said?\\n (he shakes his head no)\\n Do you doubt what's in the reports\\n about me? What do they say when\\n you sum them up? They say I'm\\n insane.\\n (he shakes his head no)\\n No, it okay. You can nod because\\n it's true. I am insane.\\n\\nShe gets up off him, rummages\",\n \".\\n SALANDER\\n She was raped and stabbed, but the\\n cause of death was suffocation with a\\n sanitary napkin. R.L. Rakel Lunde,\\n 1957 -\\nSalander brings up more crime photos -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Cleaning woman and part-time palm\\n reader, tied up with a clothesline,\\n gagged, raped, head crushed with a\\n rock. Leviticus 20:27.\\n\\n BLOMKV\",\n \"\\n you chose not to include?\\n SALANDER\\n Nothing that warranted inclusion.\\n\\n FRODE\\n I'm not sure if that means yes or no.\\n\\n ARMANSKY\\n I think what Ms. Salander means, and\\n I agree, is that everyone has a right\\n to a certain amount of privacy, even\\n when they're being investigated.\\n\\n FRODE\\n Not in this case. I have to know\\n if there's anything about him I might\\n find unsav\",\n \"ander\\n brought from Martin's chamber of horrors late last night:\\n\\n A scrapbook of murder. A death book. Photos of women\\n cowering in his cage, tied to the bed, dead on the table -\\n along with souvenirs of painted fingernails and locks of\\n hair - all carefully taped into the `album.' The older\\n photographs are Polaroids; the newer ones digital prints.\\n With little to no discernible emotion, Salander watches\\n Frode wince as he turns the pages.\\n\\n Frode can\",\n \"the first time since we've met her, she looks vulnerable.\\n The doors swing open. A doctor steps out. Salander gets\\n up to hear his report -\\n\\n DOCTOR\\n You're Mr. Palmgren's daughter?\\n SALANDER\\n His ward. He doesn't have a\\n daughter.\\n\\n The doctor isn't sure then if he should talk to her.\\n SALANDER\\n Please.\\n21 INT. ICU - SODER HOSPITAL\",\n \"-\\n SALANDER\\n (again on his last word)\\n Lea Persson, 1962 -\\n\\n A photo of a pretty girl in riding jodhpurs, petting a\\n horse, and several more of her dead naked body on a wet\\n cement floor surrounded by tropical fish.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Found by her sister in their pet\\n shop - raped, beaten. The killer\\n uncaged the animals, smashed the\\n aquariums. There was a parake\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n VANGER\\n She was bright and curious, a\\n winning combination in any person.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n And beautiful.\\n Vanger nods as he regards the photo ...\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Something happened to her?\\n\\n Vanger nods again; is silent for several moments ...\\n VANGER\\n Someone in the family murdered\\n Harriet and for the last forty years\\n has been trying to drive me insane.\\n33 OMIT:\",\n \"an investment in\\n the magazine.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I gather. Why would you want to do\\n that?\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Not for the return, that's for sure.\\n\\n VANGER\\n (to Erika)\\n I feel bad that I've take Mikael\\n away from you at the worst possible\\n time. This is the right thing to do.\\n The moral thing. That's one reason.\\n\\n ERIKA\\n And.\\n \",\n \"KVIST\\n Harriet?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I think so.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't look at the photos long. Sets them\\n down. Something's troubling him -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Martin didn't deny killing anyone.\\n But when I mentioned Harriet, he was\\n confused. He was angry - at me - for\\n not being able to tell him what\\n happened to her.\\n (pause)\\n He\",\n \".\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What did he think about that?\\n HARRIET\\n Nothing. Only that he loved her.\\n She said, If you love me, you'll do\\n this and not ask why. He never did.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n They both died twenty years ago.\\n\\n HARRIET\\n A car accident. You found that, too.\\n\\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\\n pocket -\",\n \"he died.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Why didn't you tell someone?\\n HARRIET\\n I did. My mother.\\n\\n Blomkvist stares. Finally -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Henrik would have done something.\\n\\n HARRIET\\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\\n told him. But I was afraid because\",\n \"to do is\\n a waste of money.\\n VANGER\\n We haven't discussed your fee.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n We don't need to. I can't find\\n something you haven't been able to\\n in forty years.\\n\\n VANGER\\n You don't know that. You have a\\n very keen investigative mind.\\n\\n Blomkvist wonders why he ever agreed to come here as\\n Vanger refills his wine glass.\\n VANGER\\n Here\",\n \".\\n\\n VANGER\\n - studying their reports and\\n interviews, all the information there\\n was, and it's a lot. I've spent half\\n my life examining the events of a\\n single day.\\n And for all that, he's no closer to the truth.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I understand your frustration.\\n But what you're asking me to do is\\n a waste of money.\\n VANGER\\n We haven't discussed your fee.\\n BLOM\",\n \" BLOMKVIST\\n It's all right, we're looking for a\\n serial murderer ... But what does it\\n have to do with a 16-year-old girl\\n on an island?\\n\\n Salander, as we know, is not paid to give her opinion.\\n She's a hunter/gatherer, not an analyst. But Blomkvist\\n asked, so she gives it -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n She was looking for him, too.\\n\\n16\",\n \"\\n CECILIA\\n Unlike the one that landed you in\\n court.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Unlike that one. Correct.\\n CECILIA\\n So, what you're saying is, you're\\n not really here to look into what\\n happened to Harriet.\\n\\nSilence. Then -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I can't ignore such a dramatic event,\\n but no, that's not by any means my\\n focus.\\n CECIL\",\n \"\\npoliceman - when it happened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\nMorell.\\n\\n ANITA\\nMy recollections then were a lot\\nbetter than they are now.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nI'm not speaking of the crime itself.\\nI'm trying to get a clearer sense of\\nwhat Harriet was like. Particularly,\\ntoward the end.\\n\\n ANITA\\nShe was messed up. Like all us\\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\\nfather. At least hers\",\n \"Harriet most of all.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Excuse me?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n If she'd done anything but run,\\n Martin wouldn't have been able to\\n kill all those women.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She had no idea he was doing it.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n She should have killed her father and\\n him.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n That's what you would've done\",\n \"MKVIST\\n You want me to set aside my life\\n and career for something that's a\\n complete waste of time.\\n\\n VANGER\\n Think of it as a well deserved\\n vacation. A way of avoiding all the\\n people you want to avoid right now.\\n (nothing from Blomkvist)\\n As for compensation, I'll pay you\\n twice your salary for as many months\\n as it takes. I'll quadruple it if\\n you solve the mystery.\\n 26.\",\n \"ANGER\\n I'm not obsessed with the declining\\n health of the company, but I am with\\n the settling of accounts - and the\\n clock is ticking. I need your help.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Doing.\\n\\n VANGER\\n Officially, assisting me with my\\n memoirs. But what you'd really be\\n doing is solving a mystery. And\\n you'd do that by doing what you do so\\n well - this recent legal mishap of\\n yours\",\n \"t\\n because Harriet is indeed dead.\\n247 INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - LATER - NIGHT 247\\n\\n It's strange perhaps, but he does some of his best\\n thinking during sex -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I was just thinking. What if -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Ten more seconds.\\n That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Okay, what\",\n \"this.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm not so sure.\\n\\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\\n FRODE\\n What do you mean?\\n 76.\\n 76.\\n\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I may have found something.\\n\\n FRODE\\n (pause)\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's\",\n \"you\\n want to do is fine. Everybody needs\\n something.\\n\\n PERNILLA\\n Just so long as it's not God.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I didn't say that.\\n\\n As they eat in silence, Blomkvist can't help but think\\n about Harriet and what Vanger said about not giving her\\n his attention when she needed it.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm not around enough to know\\n everything that's going on with you,\",\n \"She moves off. Her friends look after\\n her confused. And then she's gone.\\n Blomkvist backs up to the frame of Harriet looking off\\n with fear in her eyes, and for the first time believes\\n without a doubt what Vanger has believed for 40 years:\\n\\n She was murdered. Whoever she saw across the street\\n followed her and killed her. The cat watches him.\\n126 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\\n\\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\",\n \" The island is owned by my family.\\n Your closest neighbor is my brother\\n Harald, another Nazi if you can\\n believe. Two in the family. He's\\n detestable to put it nicely, but\\n you'll probably never see him. He's\\n a recluse.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n He was there that day?\\n\\n VANGER\\n Indeed he was.\\n\\n Vanger's look to Blomkvist adds, `so consider him a\\n suspect.' He indicates another\",\n \")\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's Blomkvist who studies Frode. He's not sure he\\nwants to tell him. And even less so the longer he looks.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n The last time I reported something\\n before I was sure of it, it cost me\\n my savings.\\n\\nFrode studies him again - wondering perhaps if Blomkvist\\nsuspects him.\\n BLOMK\",\n \". Which\\n I'd very much like to see if by some\\n miracle you still have them.\\n MILDRED\\n It wouldn't be a miracle. We were on\\n our honeymoon. But why?\\n\\n Blomkvist thinks about making something up. Decides not\\n to. Indicates Harriet in the photo -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n This girl was killed that day, soon\\n after seeing something across the\\n street that frightened her.\\n\\n MILDRED\\n How awful.\"\n ],\n [\n \"- DAY 66A\\n\\n\\n67 INT. PALMGREN'S APARTMENT - DAY 67\\n\\n A nurse takes a tray away, leaving Salander alone with\\n Palmgren, separated by the chess table they won't playing\\n a game on. She wipes his mouth with her sleeve.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I got a call from social welfare.\\n I've been assigned a new guardian.\\n\\n It's unlikely he understands what she has said.\",\n \". Leave\\n the keys with the guard.\\n\\n The woman leaves. Her footsteps echo and fade. Salander\\n reads a yellowed clipping from a Landskrona newspaper:\\n 116.\\n 116.\\n \\n\\n It's about Vanger Industries hiring a local contractor,\\n Carlen Construction, to build a plant. Gottfried Vanger -\\n here to sign the contract.\\n\\n But all that really interests Salander is the date. The\\n article was published one day\",\n \"MAN\\n Do you think that ring in your eyelid\\n makes you attractive?\\n\\nSalander, who's had to suffer insufferable officials all\\nher life, doesn't dignify the question with an answer.\\n BJURMAN\\n Here's the problem. There a\\n discrepancy between the obligation of\\n Mr. Palmgren's guardianship and the\\n management of your finances.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\\n It was clear to him I\",\n \"SALANDER\\n I've been on my own since I was\\n twelve.\\n BJURMAN\\n No. You've been a persistent burden\\n to the State since you were twelve.\\n\\n She won't look at him any more - not that there's\\n anything even remotely interesting to see if she did.\\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\\n Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\\n Because this is important.\\n She does ... in a way that says, I\",\n \"watching him. Is she actually there, or\\n part of a dream? He looks at her a long moment, then\\n tries out his voice -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n How is it someone who's 23 is a ward\\n of the state?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I'm mentally incompetent and can't\\n manage daily life.\\n\\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\\n\\n BLOMKV\",\n \"call from social welfare.\\n I've been assigned a new guardian.\\n\\n It's unlikely he understands what she has said. It's\\n unlikely he even knows she's there.\\n\\n68 INT. COTTAGE - NIGHT 68\\n Tacked to a wall, a map of the island on which Blomkvist\\n has written the names of the living Vanger family members\\n and staff in the approximate locations of their houses.\\n Next to it - 3x5 cards and photos - a Vanger family\",\n \"262\\n\\n Blomkvist and Salander sit out by the water, sharing\\n the last cigarette in his pack. Her arm is draped over\\n his shoulder, which strikes him as the most tender of\\n gestures, coming from her.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Fuck these people ...\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Yeah ...\\n SALANDER\\n Harriet most of all.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Excuse me?\\n\\n SALANDER\",\n \"Salander. Bjurman seems a\\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\\n 66.\\n 66.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I need more money. I need to pay my\\n rent.\\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Come on in.\",\n \".\\n\\n88 INT. OFFICE BUILDING - STOCKHOLM - NIGHT 88\\n\\n Salander comes past a janitor waxing a long, otherwise\\n empty corridor. At the far end, she opens her new\\n guardian's office door.\\n\\n89 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - NIGHT 89\\n As Bjurman reviews a McJesus invoice, Salander waits.\\n The thick atmosphere reminds her of all the others she\\n has sat in with\",\n \"a\\n fool did he make of himself\\n financially?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n The judgement will just about empty\\n his savings.\\nThis seems to please Frode more than anything else that\\nhas been said, and Salander sees it.\\n SALANDER\\n May I go?\\n\\n FRODE\\n Your report is light in another\\n area. His personal life. Anything\\n you chose not to include?\\n SALANDER\\n Nothing that warranted inclusion.\\n\\n FRODE\\n \",\n \"the first time since we've met her, she looks vulnerable.\\n The doors swing open. A doctor steps out. Salander gets\\n up to hear his report -\\n\\n DOCTOR\\n You're Mr. Palmgren's daughter?\\n SALANDER\\n His ward. He doesn't have a\\n daughter.\\n\\n The doctor isn't sure then if he should talk to her.\\n SALANDER\\n Please.\\n21 INT. ICU - SODER HOSPITAL\",\n \"He nods. She nods.\\n SALANDER\\n What are you doing later?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Seeing my daughter.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Okay.\\n\\n She nods. He nods.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You look nice.\\n SALANDER\\n Thanks.\\n\\n He nods. She nods. Erika regards them from inside the\\n conference room. Salander climbs back on her motor\",\n \"Salander leafs through the article as\\nBlomkvist brushes his teeth in the bathroom.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n He'll call it a personal vendetta\\n but it won't work. FI can't ignore\\n banking and securities fraud like\\n this. The police can't ignore the\\n organized crime stuff. They'll both\\n have to investigate.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Then.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n We'll be back in court, but this\",\n \"s.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Is she's alive, there's only one\\n person in this family who would know\\n where she is.\\n\\n He takes the photo of Anita down from the wall.\\n\\n239 INT. HOSPITAL - DAY 239\\n Henrik sits in one of the chairs. Blomkvist in another.\\n Salander prefers to stand. Eventually -\\n VANGER\\n Poor Martin.\\n\\n Clearly, he hasn\",\n \"was stupid. I got something from\\n an anonymous source, who I'm sure now\\n worked for him. It was fake. Which\\n he easily proved in court.\\n Not a good day, that. Then -\\n SALANDER\\n You were emphatic that the way I\\n looked into your life was illegal and\\n immoral. Would you feel the same\\n about Wennerstrom?\\n\\n He regards her, uncertain what she means ...\\n SALANDER\\n I\",\n \"de takes Blomkvist aside.\\n\\n FRODE\\n He needs surgery and there's no DNR.\\n So it's up to the family to decide to\\n resuscitate or not, and they're not\\n good at decisions.\\n\\n He glances over to them. Isabella's staring back.\\n\\n FRODE\\n How'd it go with Ms. Salander?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She said yes.\\n\\n Isabella gets up to come over -\",\n \"ances.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n It isn't a discrepancy or a problem.\\n It was clear to him I could manage my\\n own finances.\\n BJURMAN\\n But that's not clear to me.\\n SALANDER\\n I'm not a child.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n No. You're not.\\n (looks at her too long)\\n But you were. And between then and\\n now -\\n (indicating the files)\\n\",\n \"Salander?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She said yes.\\n\\n Isabella gets up to come over -\\n BLOMVIST\\n (to Frode)\\n Can I see Henrik?\\n\\n FRODE\\n He was asleep when I last looked in.\\n We can check.\\n 86.\\n 86.\\n\\n\\n ISABELLA\\n No, you can't check. You can\\n instruct him to pack his things and\\n \",\n \". Salander climbs off it and\\nshoulders a duffel bag. Blomkvist seems surprised to see\\nher.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Lisbeth, this is Martin Vanger.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n How do you do.\\n SALANDER\\n Fine.\\nShe comes past them without another word. Martin can't\\nhelp noticing her wasp and handcuff tattoos. Looks after\\nher as she disappears into the cottage. It's hard to\\nbelieve, but he has to ask\",\n \"'s last chance at some\\n kind of resolution. Put this to rest\\n for him one way of the other, and\\n I'll try to keep my mother away.\\n But, please, do it as quickly as you\\n can.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'll (try) -\\n\\nThey glance off to the sound of a motorcycle. It\\nappears, roars up, parks. Salander climbs off it and\\nshoulders a duffel bag. Blomkvist seems surprised to see\\nher.\\n\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Wait.\\n\\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on a chair.\\n Sits on the edge of the bed. He stands over her. She\\n knows what she's supposed to do, but seems unable to.\\n BJURMAN\\n Is there a problem?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I just want to know, am I going to\\n have to do this every time I need\\n money to eat?\\n BJURMAN\\n It\",\n \"the elevator without really looking at the\\n figure already in it.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Ground, please.\\n A finger presses it. The doors close and the elevator\\n starts down.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n How's your sex life?\\n\\n Bjurman, terrified, backs into a corner. She presses a\\n button and the elevator jerks to a stop between floors.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I didn't care much for your last\\n report.\\n \",\n \"6 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\\n\\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\\n SALANDER\\n Good. You're alive.\\n\\n It takes him a moment to realize it's true. Another to\\n realize it might be better if he wasn't since he's naked\\n on the floor, face-up, wrists and ankles bound. He tries\\n to cry out and realizes he's also gagged.\\n\\n She emerges from the\",\n \"Salander. Bjurman seems a\\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\\n 66.\\n 66.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I need more money. I need to pay my\\n rent.\\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Come on in.\",\n \".\\n\\nHe stands in front of her, his crotch at her eye level.\\n BJURMAN\\n You've done this before. You know\\n what to do.\\n (MORE)\\n 49.\\n 49.\\n \\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\\n (she doesn't do anything)\\n Do you want this computer or not?\\n\\n He takes her hand and places it on the crotch of his\\n trousers.\\n \",\n \" BJURMAN\\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\\n (nothing from Salander)\\n Terrible.\\n\\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\\n through her file -\\n BJURMAN\\n What exactly do you do at this\\n security company?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Make coffee and sort mail.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n But not full-time. Not even part\",\n \"her struggle. But she's not going anywhere.\\n He tears open a condom package with his teeth.\\n 55.\\n 55.\\n \\n\\n BJURMAN\\n I forget - did I ask you before if\\n you liked anal sex?\\n\\n He crams a pillow under her stomach and climbs on top\\n of her. She keeps fighting but there's not much she can\\n do handcuffed. Eventually, she retreats to another place\\n inside herself. She's had to go\",\n \" 54.\\n 54.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I just want my money.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Well, let's see if I can help you out\\n with that.\\n\\n He walks to the hallway. She doesn't. He holds out\\n his hand. She finally joins him. As they step into the\\n bedroom, he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Wait.\\n\\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on\",\n \"her little backpack over\\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Come on in.\\n\\n She steps inside. He takes her hand and leads her\\n toward the bedroom. Her other hand slips into her jacket\\n pocket.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Since we're still figuring out what\\n you like, I went shopping for some\\n new toys.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Me, too.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n \",\n \" Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\\n Because this is important.\\n She does ... in a way that says, I'd like to kill you.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n This behavior you're displaying\\n right now is elaborately documented\\n here -\\n (in the file)\\n - so it would come as a shock to no\\n one if I chose an alternative to the\\n lenient arrangement I just outlined.\\n Is that what you're saying with your\\n \",\n \" I like the reticence. I prefer a\\n whore who pretends she isn't. It's\\n almost convincing.\\n He grabs her hair and roughly pulls her head toward him.\\n90 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - LATER - NIGHT 90\\n Salander eats some toothpaste in Bjurman's private\\n bathroom. When she returns to the office, she finds him\\n calmly writing a check.\\n BJURMAN\\n Here you go. As promised\",\n \"out.\\n He gets her in a strangle hold and chokes her into\\n unconsciousness.\\n100A INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT 100A\\n\\n She comes to, on her stomach, sees her wrists cuffed to\\n the headboard posts, her ankles secured to the foot posts\\n with silk ties, and scissors slicing her jeans off. She\\n starts to scream and he stuffs her mouth with her\\n underwear.\\n BJUR\",\n \"(pause)\\n So, what do you need money for this\\n time? Grand Theft Auto 5?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Food.\\n He smiles. Steps toward her. Lifts her chin.\\n BJURMAN\\n How are you? Been thinking about\\n last time? Decided you wanted to see\\n me again?\\n 54.\\n 54.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I just want my money.\",\n \" A car accident. You found that, too.\\n\\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\\n pocket - changes his mind - changes it again and pulls it\\n out.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Is this you?\\n He hands her the less graphic of the two Polaroids\\n Salander found in Martin's basement - the young girl,\\n face turned half-away from the camera ...\\n HARRIET\\n I was 14 the first time he raped me.\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n Shall we start with me?\\n (pause)\\n Shall we start now?\\n\\nAs he comes around the desk, she eyes a sharp letter\\nopener sticking out above some pens in a coffee mug a\\nchild has painted with the word, `daddy.'\\n BJURMAN\\n If you're nice to me, I'll be nice to\\n you. That's how normal people are.\\n\\nHe stands in front of her, his crotch at her eye level.\\n BJURMAN\\n You've done\",\n \"s ever seen\\n outside this room, who'll be\\n institutionalized then?\\n\\nHe starts to whimper.\\n SALANDER\\n Here's what's going to happen.\\n Pay attention.\\n\\nHe can't. He can't even look at her. His life is over. He\\nweeps into the gag.\\n SALANDER\\n Look at me.\\n\\nHe won't. She strides to her backpack. Takes out a\\nlarge dildo. Gets on her knees, and works it into his\",\n \"48.\\n 48.\\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\\n (nothing)\\n How many partners have you had in the\\n last month?\\n (nothing)\\n How many were men?\\nThat last one seems to amuse him; none amuse her.\\n BJURMAN\\n I'm required to ask you these things.\\n It's a matter of health.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n \",\n \"He won't. She strides to her backpack. Takes out a\\nlarge dildo. Gets on her knees, and works it into his\\nass. She can only get it about halfway up. She has to\\nstand up and kick it the rest of the way with her boot.\\nHe howls into the gag.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Do I have your attention now?\\n\\nShe does indeed. He vigorously nods his head, now, and\\nafter everything she says -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n When you can walk again,\",\n \"Vanger?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You're too young to know about that.\\n PHOTO EDITOR\\n Everyone here grows up knowing about\\n her. It's how we're taught about\\n strangers.\\n\\n121 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - STOCKHOLM - NIGHT 121\\n\\n The door opens revealing Salander. Bjurman seems a\\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n My\",\n \"slicing her jeans off. She\\n starts to scream and he stuffs her mouth with her\\n underwear.\\n BJURMAN\\n Please. I have neighbors.\\n\\n He lights a couple candles. Switches on some New Age\\n music.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n What we're going to do now is teach\\n you the value of money.\\n\\n He watches her struggle. But she's not going anywhere.\\n He tears open a condom package with his teeth.\\n 55\"\n ],\n [\n \"he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Wait.\\n\\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on a chair.\\n Sits on the edge of the bed. He stands over her. She\\n knows what she's supposed to do, but seems unable to.\\n BJURMAN\\n Is there a problem?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I just want to know, am I going to\\n have to do this every time I need\\n money to eat?\\n BJURMAN\\n It\",\n \"6 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\\n\\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\\n SALANDER\\n Good. You're alive.\\n\\n It takes him a moment to realize it's true. Another to\\n realize it might be better if he wasn't since he's naked\\n on the floor, face-up, wrists and ankles bound. He tries\\n to cry out and realizes he's also gagged.\\n\\n She emerges from the\",\n \"the elevator without really looking at the\\n figure already in it.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Ground, please.\\n A finger presses it. The doors close and the elevator\\n starts down.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n How's your sex life?\\n\\n Bjurman, terrified, backs into a corner. She presses a\\n button and the elevator jerks to a stop between floors.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I didn't care much for your last\\n report.\\n \",\n \"Salander. Bjurman seems a\\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\\n 66.\\n 66.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I need more money. I need to pay my\\n rent.\\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Come on in.\",\n \".\\n SALANDER\\n She was raped and stabbed, but the\\n cause of death was suffocation with a\\n sanitary napkin. R.L. Rakel Lunde,\\n 1957 -\\nSalander brings up more crime photos -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Cleaning woman and part-time palm\\n reader, tied up with a clothesline,\\n gagged, raped, head crushed with a\\n rock. Leviticus 20:27.\\n\\n BLOMKV\",\n \" BJURMAN\\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\\n (nothing from Salander)\\n Terrible.\\n\\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\\n through her file -\\n BJURMAN\\n What exactly do you do at this\\n security company?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Make coffee and sort mail.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n But not full-time. Not even part\",\n \"her little backpack over\\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Come on in.\\n\\n She steps inside. He takes her hand and leads her\\n toward the bedroom. Her other hand slips into her jacket\\n pocket.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Since we're still figuring out what\\n you like, I went shopping for some\\n new toys.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Me, too.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n \",\n \"He won't. She strides to her backpack. Takes out a\\nlarge dildo. Gets on her knees, and works it into his\\nass. She can only get it about halfway up. She has to\\nstand up and kick it the rest of the way with her boot.\\nHe howls into the gag.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Do I have your attention now?\\n\\nShe does indeed. He vigorously nods his head, now, and\\nafter everything she says -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n When you can walk again,\",\n \"her struggle. But she's not going anywhere.\\n He tears open a condom package with his teeth.\\n 55.\\n 55.\\n \\n\\n BJURMAN\\n I forget - did I ask you before if\\n you liked anal sex?\\n\\n He crams a pillow under her stomach and climbs on top\\n of her. She keeps fighting but there's not much she can\\n do handcuffed. Eventually, she retreats to another place\\n inside herself. She's had to go\",\n \"? It's not a snap.\\n It's a wide-angle micro-lens.\\n\\nShe takes a DVD-R from the backpack, puts it in his\\nplayer, flips his plasma TV on with a remote. She got it\\nall - what he did to her - the rape - in HD.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n This shows you sodomizing a mentally\\n impaired girl. If it's ever seen\\n outside this room, who'll be\\n institutionalized then?\\n\\nHe starts to whimper.\\n SAL\",\n \" Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\\n Because this is important.\\n She does ... in a way that says, I'd like to kill you.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n This behavior you're displaying\\n right now is elaborately documented\\n here -\\n (in the file)\\n - so it would come as a shock to no\\n one if I chose an alternative to the\\n lenient arrangement I just outlined.\\n Is that what you're saying with your\\n \",\n \"\\nthing he'll see is a pair of scissors in her hand, but it\\nisn't. It's something else he doesn't recognize. She\\nstraddles him again. He squirms under her weight.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Lie still. I've never done this\\n before.\\n 70.\\n 70.\\n \\n\\n He sees that the thing in her hand is some kind of\\n surgical device, a shiny stripped-down gun with a sharp\\n point and\",\n \" 54.\\n 54.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I just want my money.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Well, let's see if I can help you out\\n with that.\\n\\n He walks to the hallway. She doesn't. He holds out\\n his hand. She finally joins him. As they step into the\\n bedroom, he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Wait.\\n\\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on\",\n \" A car accident. You found that, too.\\n\\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\\n pocket - changes his mind - changes it again and pulls it\\n out.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Is this you?\\n He hands her the less graphic of the two Polaroids\\n Salander found in Martin's basement - the young girl,\\n face turned half-away from the camera ...\\n HARRIET\\n I was 14 the first time he raped me.\\n\\n\",\n \"nothing wrong with me.\\n He nods. She gets the elevator going again and steps\\n closer to him. He tries bowing his head like a dog being\\n scolded. She lifts his chin like he did to her before he\\n raped her.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n And stop visiting tattoo removal\\n websites or I'll do it again - right\\n here.\\n\\n She touches his forehead. He backs away. The doors\\n open and she steps out, leaving him in there, looking too\\n frightened to move. The doors close\",\n \"returns to the office, she finds him\\n calmly writing a check.\\n BJURMAN\\n Here you go. As promised.\\n\\n He holds it out to her, but when she reaches for it,\\n pulls it back a little.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n I know you're not thinking about\\n telling anyone about our date. Enjoy\\n your computer games.\\n She takes the check and leaves.\\n\\n91 INT. SALANDER'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT 91\\n\",\n \" I like the reticence. I prefer a\\n whore who pretends she isn't. It's\\n almost convincing.\\n He grabs her hair and roughly pulls her head toward him.\\n90 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - LATER - NIGHT 90\\n Salander eats some toothpaste in Bjurman's private\\n bathroom. When she returns to the office, she finds him\\n calmly writing a check.\\n BJURMAN\\n Here you go. As promised\",\n \"(pause)\\n So, what do you need money for this\\n time? Grand Theft Auto 5?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Food.\\n He smiles. Steps toward her. Lifts her chin.\\n BJURMAN\\n How are you? Been thinking about\\n last time? Decided you wanted to see\\n me again?\\n 54.\\n 54.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I just want my money.\",\n \" No, it okay. You can nod because\\n it's true. I am insane.\\n\\nShe gets up off him, rummages through her backpack again.\\n SALANDER\\n I know it'll be hard for you to abide\\n by my rules. Especially no more sex.\\n I'm going to make it easier for you.\\nShe puts on a plastic surgical mask. He fears the next\\nthing he'll see is a pair of scissors in her hand, but it\\nisn't. It's something else he doesn\",\n \"s ever seen\\n outside this room, who'll be\\n institutionalized then?\\n\\nHe starts to whimper.\\n SALANDER\\n Here's what's going to happen.\\n Pay attention.\\n\\nHe can't. He can't even look at her. His life is over. He\\nweeps into the gag.\\n SALANDER\\n Look at me.\\n\\nHe won't. She strides to her backpack. Takes out a\\nlarge dildo. Gets on her knees, and works it into his\"\n ],\n [\n \"he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Wait.\\n\\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on a chair.\\n Sits on the edge of the bed. He stands over her. She\\n knows what she's supposed to do, but seems unable to.\\n BJURMAN\\n Is there a problem?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I just want to know, am I going to\\n have to do this every time I need\\n money to eat?\\n BJURMAN\\n It\",\n \"Salander. Bjurman seems a\\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n My dear Lisbeth, how are you?\\n 66.\\n 66.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I need more money. I need to pay my\\n rent.\\n She looks like a schoolgirl with her little backpack over\\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Come on in.\",\n \"the elevator without really looking at the\\n figure already in it.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Ground, please.\\n A finger presses it. The doors close and the elevator\\n starts down.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n How's your sex life?\\n\\n Bjurman, terrified, backs into a corner. She presses a\\n button and the elevator jerks to a stop between floors.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I didn't care much for your last\\n report.\\n \",\n \" 54.\\n 54.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I just want my money.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Well, let's see if I can help you out\\n with that.\\n\\n He walks to the hallway. She doesn't. He holds out\\n his hand. She finally joins him. As they step into the\\n bedroom, he roughly pushes her toward the bed.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Wait.\\n\\n She puts her backpack and leather jacket on\",\n \" BJURMAN\\n How's Mr. Palmgren doing? I was\\n told he had a stroke of some kind.\\n (nothing from Salander)\\n Terrible.\\n\\n It is, but she can tell he couldn't care less. He leafs\\n through her file -\\n BJURMAN\\n What exactly do you do at this\\n security company?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Make coffee and sort mail.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n But not full-time. Not even part\",\n \"6 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\\n\\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\\n SALANDER\\n Good. You're alive.\\n\\n It takes him a moment to realize it's true. Another to\\n realize it might be better if he wasn't since he's naked\\n on the floor, face-up, wrists and ankles bound. He tries\\n to cry out and realizes he's also gagged.\\n\\n She emerges from the\",\n \" Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\\n Because this is important.\\n She does ... in a way that says, I'd like to kill you.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n This behavior you're displaying\\n right now is elaborately documented\\n here -\\n (in the file)\\n - so it would come as a shock to no\\n one if I chose an alternative to the\\n lenient arrangement I just outlined.\\n Is that what you're saying with your\\n \",\n \"(pause)\\n So, what do you need money for this\\n time? Grand Theft Auto 5?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Food.\\n He smiles. Steps toward her. Lifts her chin.\\n BJURMAN\\n How are you? Been thinking about\\n last time? Decided you wanted to see\\n me again?\\n 54.\\n 54.\\n \\n\\n SALANDER\\n I just want my money.\",\n \" I like the reticence. I prefer a\\n whore who pretends she isn't. It's\\n almost convincing.\\n He grabs her hair and roughly pulls her head toward him.\\n90 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - LATER - NIGHT 90\\n Salander eats some toothpaste in Bjurman's private\\n bathroom. When she returns to the office, she finds him\\n calmly writing a check.\\n BJURMAN\\n Here you go. As promised\",\n \"returns to the office, she finds him\\n calmly writing a check.\\n BJURMAN\\n Here you go. As promised.\\n\\n He holds it out to her, but when she reaches for it,\\n pulls it back a little.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n I know you're not thinking about\\n telling anyone about our date. Enjoy\\n your computer games.\\n She takes the check and leaves.\\n\\n91 INT. SALANDER'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT 91\\n\",\n \"\\n I'm required to ask you these things.\\n It's a matter of health.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Write down anything you want.\\nBjurman sighs. Sets the form aside and looks at the\\nMcJesus invoice again.\\n BJURMAN\\n Why do you need such an expensive\\n computer?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n For work.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Making coffee and sorting mail.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I shouldn't even\",\n \"her little backpack over\\n her shoulder. How did he ever get so lucky?\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Come on in.\\n\\n She steps inside. He takes her hand and leads her\\n toward the bedroom. Her other hand slips into her jacket\\n pocket.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n Since we're still figuring out what\\n you like, I went shopping for some\\n new toys.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Me, too.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n88 INT. OFFICE BUILDING - STOCKHOLM - NIGHT 88\\n\\n Salander comes past a janitor waxing a long, otherwise\\n empty corridor. At the far end, she opens her new\\n guardian's office door.\\n\\n89 INT. BJURMAN'S OFFICE - NIGHT 89\\n As Bjurman reviews a McJesus invoice, Salander waits.\\n The thick atmosphere reminds her of all the others she\\n has sat in with\",\n \"EXT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 98\\n\\n Outside the building's entrance with a backpack slung\\n over her shoulder, Salander presses an apartment button.\\n As she waits, she notes there's no security camera.\\n\\n BJURMAN O/S\\n Yes?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n It's me.\\n\\n The door buzzes. She pushes it open.\\n99 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT\",\n \"? It's not a snap.\\n It's a wide-angle micro-lens.\\n\\nShe takes a DVD-R from the backpack, puts it in his\\nplayer, flips his plasma TV on with a remote. She got it\\nall - what he did to her - the rape - in HD.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n This shows you sodomizing a mentally\\n impaired girl. If it's ever seen\\n outside this room, who'll be\\n institutionalized then?\\n\\nHe starts to whimper.\\n SAL\",\n \"Vanger?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You're too young to know about that.\\n PHOTO EDITOR\\n Everyone here grows up knowing about\\n her. It's how we're taught about\\n strangers.\\n\\n121 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - STOCKHOLM - NIGHT 121\\n\\n The door opens revealing Salander. Bjurman seems a\\n little surprised to see her at his doorstep.\\n\\n BJURMAN\\n My\",\n \".\\n\\nHe stands in front of her, his crotch at her eye level.\\n BJURMAN\\n You've done this before. You know\\n what to do.\\n (MORE)\\n 49.\\n 49.\\n \\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\\n (she doesn't do anything)\\n Do you want this computer or not?\\n\\n He takes her hand and places it on the crotch of his\\n trousers.\\n \",\n \" A car accident. You found that, too.\\n\\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\\n pocket - changes his mind - changes it again and pulls it\\n out.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Is this you?\\n He hands her the less graphic of the two Polaroids\\n Salander found in Martin's basement - the young girl,\\n face turned half-away from the camera ...\\n HARRIET\\n I was 14 the first time he raped me.\\n\\n\",\n \"SALANDER\\n I've been on my own since I was\\n twelve.\\n BJURMAN\\n No. You've been a persistent burden\\n to the State since you were twelve.\\n\\n She won't look at him any more - not that there's\\n anything even remotely interesting to see if she did.\\n BJURMAN (CONT'D)\\n Ms. Salander? Please look at me.\\n Because this is important.\\n She does ... in a way that says, I\",\n \"s ever seen\\n outside this room, who'll be\\n institutionalized then?\\n\\nHe starts to whimper.\\n SALANDER\\n Here's what's going to happen.\\n Pay attention.\\n\\nHe can't. He can't even look at her. His life is over. He\\nweeps into the gag.\\n SALANDER\\n Look at me.\\n\\nHe won't. She strides to her backpack. Takes out a\\nlarge dildo. Gets on her knees, and works it into his\"\n ],\n [\n \"BLOMKVIST\\n That's comforting. Are you hungry?\\n Want a sandwich?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n No.\\n Busy setting up her laptop on his desk, starting it up,\\n sitting down at it, she's all but ignoring him.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I used to have a motorcycle. When I\\n was 19.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I know.\\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\\n \",\n \"this.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm not so sure.\\n\\nFrode looks at Blomkvist a little more intently.\\n FRODE\\n What do you mean?\\n 76.\\n 76.\\n\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I may have found something.\\n\\n FRODE\\n (pause)\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's\",\n \"\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I know.\\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\\n list of names and initials he gave her -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n The five cases from Harriet's\\n list. And five more she missed -\\n three I'm sure about.\\n\\n Five more? Blomkvist stares at her but she's turned back\\n to her laptop, bringing up police reports and crime scene\\n photos.\\n SALANDER\\n Rebecka\",\n \"Salander is clever.\\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Maybe.\\n 122.\\n 122.\\n \\n\\n Martin hands Blomkvist the mini-Maglite.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Thanks.\\n222 INT. ARCHIVES - NIGHT 222\\n\\n Salander scrolls through laptop photos to the one at the\\n parade taken by the Brann\",\n \"She pours milk in her coffee from the carton she just\\n bought. Pushes over two faded Polaroid photos. He picks\\n them up:\\n One shows a young girl about 14, naked from the waist up,\\n head turned half-away from the camera. The second shows\\n her on her stomach on a bed, completely naked, face\\n turned to the photographer, frightened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Harriet?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I think so.\\n\\n Blomkvist\",\n \"IN\\n How's the investigation?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nothing new to report.\\n\\n Blomkvist notices a drop of blood from his pantleg on\\n the stone floor and covers it up with his shoe. Martin,\\n not seeming to notice, finds a mini-Maglite in the\\n drawer.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Dirch says Ms. Salander is clever.\\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Maybe.\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n He smiles, thinking it's joke. It isn't, he realizes.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Since when have they said that.\\n SALANDER\\n Since I was twelve.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Something happened when you were\\n twelve?\\n\\n She doesn't say. Just studies him ...\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's all right, you don't have to\\n tell me anything\",\n \"MKVIST\\n We need to somehow figure out who\\n they are, what happened to them, what\\n the Leviticus verses have to do with\\n (anything) -\\n\\n She gets up, goes to her desk, begins jotting something\\n down, ignoring him.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What are you doing?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Getting started. You can keep\\n talking if you want.\\n Blomkvist, slightly taken aback, picks up the\",\n \" A car accident. You found that, too.\\n\\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\\n pocket - changes his mind - changes it again and pulls it\\n out.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Is this you?\\n He hands her the less graphic of the two Polaroids\\n Salander found in Martin's basement - the young girl,\\n face turned half-away from the camera ...\\n HARRIET\\n I was 14 the first time he raped me.\\n\\n\",\n \"Naturally, this is the last thing Blomkvist wants to do,\\n but it would be more suspicious if he refuses. He heads\\n back to Martin's house, trying not to limp.\\n220 INT. ARCHIVES - NIGHT 220\\n\\n Finished with her candy bar and coffee, Salander opens\\n the 1967 files, looks through the clippings for anything\\n of note in Uppsala, where Lena was killed.\\n\\n She finds no news of factories opening there that\",\n \" BLOMKVIST\\n It's all right, we're looking for a\\n serial murderer ... But what does it\\n have to do with a 16-year-old girl\\n on an island?\\n\\n Salander, as we know, is not paid to give her opinion.\\n She's a hunter/gatherer, not an analyst. But Blomkvist\\n asked, so she gives it -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n She was looking for him, too.\\n\\n16\",\n \")\\n You're joking.\\n (Blomkvist isn't)\\n What did you find?\\nNow it's Blomkvist who studies Frode. He's not sure he\\nwants to tell him. And even less so the longer he looks.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n The last time I reported something\\n before I was sure of it, it cost me\\n my savings.\\n\\nFrode studies him again - wondering perhaps if Blomkvist\\nsuspects him.\\n BLOMK\",\n \"ander\\n brought from Martin's chamber of horrors late last night:\\n\\n A scrapbook of murder. A death book. Photos of women\\n cowering in his cage, tied to the bed, dead on the table -\\n along with souvenirs of painted fingernails and locks of\\n hair - all carefully taped into the `album.' The older\\n photographs are Polaroids; the newer ones digital prints.\\n With little to no discernible emotion, Salander watches\\n Frode wince as he turns the pages.\\n\\n Frode can\",\n \"does the\\n girl know?\\n\\n Blomkvist isn't sure how to play that question ...\\n MARTIN\\n Let's hope it's as much as you.\\n That'll make it more fun. Where is\\n she?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Stockholm. She went there this\\n morning.\\n MARTIN\\n And that's a lie. She's sitting in\\n our offices looking at more old crap.\\n Our archives manager called me - very\\n perturbed\",\n \"KVIST O/S\\n What are you doing?\\n\\n He's just woken up in a tangle of blankets on the couch\\n to see her at his laptop. She closes the album, leaving\\n on the screen what she was looking at before: his iMovie\\n of the parade and some annotated police files.\\n SALANDER\\n Going over your notes.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n They're encrypted.\\n\\n She gives him a don't-be-a-child look.\",\n \"LATER - DAY 197\\n\\n Blomkvist and Salander walk down the road from Martin's\\n house.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n What am I looking for?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Any connections between the\\n company's holdings and the towns\\n where the women were killed ... and\\n everything about Frode.\\n\\n198 EXT. HEDESTAD - DAY 198\\n\\n Vanger Industries' corporate archives\",\n \".\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What did he think about that?\\n HARRIET\\n Nothing. Only that he loved her.\\n She said, If you love me, you'll do\\n this and not ask why. He never did.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n They both died twenty years ago.\\n\\n HARRIET\\n A car accident. You found that, too.\\n\\n Blomkvist nods, reaches for something in his jacket\\n pocket -\",\n \"KVIST\\n Harriet?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I think so.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't look at the photos long. Sets them\\n down. Something's troubling him -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Martin didn't deny killing anyone.\\n But when I mentioned Harriet, he was\\n confused. He was angry - at me - for\\n not being able to tell him what\\n happened to her.\\n (pause)\\n He\",\n \"scrolls through photos\\n on his laptop, leaving on the screen for Salander to see\\n when she returns: Martin's recent Vanger Industries PR\\n portrait ...\\n 118.\\n 118.\\n \\n\\n215 INT. ARCHIVES - NIGHT 215\\n\\n Salander has hit a snag. Gets up. We stay to have a\\n look at the problem she leaves: the victims list - now\\n with \\\"Gottfried\\\" jotted down next to all but\",\n \" Yes, it was quite thorough.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I want to read it.\\n FRODE\\n That I couldn't authorize.\\n 77.\\n 77.\\n \\n\\n Blomkvist isn't sure how to play this. Then he is.\\n Sets his napkin down, gets up and begins taking things\\n down from the wall. Frode watches. Then sighs.\\n135 EXT. STOCKHOLM - DUSK \"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I know.\\n She hands him her own dog-eared Bible and a copy of the\\n list of names and initials he gave her -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n The five cases from Harriet's\\n list. And five more she missed -\\n three I'm sure about.\\n\\n Five more? Blomkvist stares at her but she's turned back\\n to her laptop, bringing up police reports and crime scene\\n photos.\\n SALANDER\\n Rebecka\",\n \"ander\\n brought from Martin's chamber of horrors late last night:\\n\\n A scrapbook of murder. A death book. Photos of women\\n cowering in his cage, tied to the bed, dead on the table -\\n along with souvenirs of painted fingernails and locks of\\n hair - all carefully taped into the `album.' The older\\n photographs are Polaroids; the newer ones digital prints.\\n With little to no discernible emotion, Salander watches\\n Frode wince as he turns the pages.\\n\\n Frode can\",\n \"this time. We moved on to a\\n neighbor. Then a vagrant -\\n\\n He pulls a thick, yellowed folder out and sits with it\\n and her at a table.\\n DET. ISAKSSON\\n Once you get to strangers, it's only\\n a matter of time before you get to\\n gypsies, and you know you're never\\n going to solve it.\\n And that troubles him still, that he never solved it.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n How exactly was she killed?\\n\",\n \"-\\n SALANDER\\n (again on his last word)\\n Lea Persson, 1962 -\\n\\n A photo of a pretty girl in riding jodhpurs, petting a\\n horse, and several more of her dead naked body on a wet\\n cement floor surrounded by tropical fish.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Found by her sister in their pet\\n shop - raped, beaten. The killer\\n uncaged the animals, smashed the\\n aquariums. There was a parake\",\n \" BLOMKVIST\\n It's all right, we're looking for a\\n serial murderer ... But what does it\\n have to do with a 16-year-old girl\\n on an island?\\n\\n Salander, as we know, is not paid to give her opinion.\\n She's a hunter/gatherer, not an analyst. But Blomkvist\\n asked, so she gives it -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n She was looking for him, too.\\n\\n16\",\n \"She moves off. Her friends look after\\n her confused. And then she's gone.\\n Blomkvist backs up to the frame of Harriet looking off\\n with fear in her eyes, and for the first time believes\\n without a doubt what Vanger has believed for 40 years:\\n\\n She was murdered. Whoever she saw across the street\\n followed her and killed her. The cat watches him.\\n126 INT. BJURMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 126\\n\\n Bjurman slowly comes to.\",\n \".\\n SALANDER\\n She was raped and stabbed, but the\\n cause of death was suffocation with a\\n sanitary napkin. R.L. Rakel Lunde,\\n 1957 -\\nSalander brings up more crime photos -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Cleaning woman and part-time palm\\n reader, tied up with a clothesline,\\n gagged, raped, head crushed with a\\n rock. Leviticus 20:27.\\n\\n BLOMKV\",\n \"Harriet most of all.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Excuse me?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n If she'd done anything but run,\\n Martin wouldn't have been able to\\n kill all those women.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She had no idea he was doing it.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n She should have killed her father and\\n him.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n That's what you would've done\",\n \".\\n And that troubles him still, that he never solved it.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n How exactly was she killed?\\n\\n DET. ISAKSSON\\n Miss - I'm sorry -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Salander.\\n DET. ISAKSSON\\n Miss Salander, if you don't mind my\\n asking, when's the last time you ate?\\n 85.\\n 85.\\n \\n\\n SALAND\",\n \"262\\n\\n Blomkvist and Salander sit out by the water, sharing\\n the last cigarette in his pack. Her arm is draped over\\n his shoulder, which strikes him as the most tender of\\n gestures, coming from her.\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Fuck these people ...\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Yeah ...\\n SALANDER\\n Harriet most of all.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Excuse me?\\n\\n SALANDER\",\n \"one she\\n made earlier where the nine women were murdered. Dots\\n appear at the same locations on both.\\n\\n On a handwritten list of the victims, she puts a check\\n next to Rebecka Jacobsson, 1949, Hedestad - moves on to\\n Mari Holmberg, 1954, Kalmar - begins sifting through the\\n mountain of Vanger Industries clippings from that year -\\n 113.\\n 113.\\n \\n\\n206\",\n \"don't have hers.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Whose.\\n\\nShe doesn't say. He comes over. She plays the iMovie,\\nstops on a frame before Harriet turns her head. Points\\nto a young couple standing among the people behind her.\\nThe woman has an Instamatic camera in her hand.\\n SALANDER\\n Her.\\n\\nShe advances to the next frame: The woman has raised\\nthe camera to her eye.\\n\\nAnd the next: Harriet turning her head in foreground\\nwhile in\",\n \" SALANDER\\n May I kill him?\\n\\nNothing in his life would allow him to agree to such a\\nthing - until now. Now it's as if her years of violence\\nand degradation have been passed to him.\\n\\nHe nods.\\n 134.\\n 134.\\n \\n\\n She puts the hunting knife in his hand. Pulls the gun\\n from her back pocket, checks the clip, flicks off the\\n safety, and turns to leave -\\n\\n BLOM\",\n \" MORELL O/S\\n Of course I do, but what would it\\n have to do with anything?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nothing probably.\\n\\n As Blomkvist glances to the last page in Harriet's\\n address book, to R.J. 30114 -\\n\\n MORELL O/S\\n Jacobsson. Rebecka Jacobsson.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n How was she killed?\\n MORELL O\",\n \", 1960. A runaway.\\n Raped, strangled, a burnt pigeon\\n tied around her neck. Lena\\n Andersson, 1967, a student. Raped,\\n stabbed, decapitated -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Okay -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I'm not done -\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's all right, we're looking for a\\n serial murderer ... But what\",\n \"the family murdered\\n Harriet and for the last forty years\\n has been trying to drive me insane.\\n33 OMIT: INT. SALANDER'S APARTMENT - STOCKHOLM - DAY 33\\n34 EXT. TRAIN STATION - HEDESTAD - DUSK 34\\n\\n The 4:30 train leaves the station without Blomkvist.\\n35 INT. VANGER'S STUDY - DUSK 35\\n\\n Anna g\",\n \"KVIST\\n Harriet?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I think so.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't look at the photos long. Sets them\\n down. Something's troubling him -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Martin didn't deny killing anyone.\\n But when I mentioned Harriet, he was\\n confused. He was angry - at me - for\\n not being able to tell him what\\n happened to her.\\n (pause)\\n He\",\n \"scrolls through photos\\n on his laptop, leaving on the screen for Salander to see\\n when she returns: Martin's recent Vanger Industries PR\\n portrait ...\\n 118.\\n 118.\\n \\n\\n215 INT. ARCHIVES - NIGHT 215\\n\\n Salander has hit a snag. Gets up. We stay to have a\\n look at the problem she leaves: the victims list - now\\n with \\\"Gottfried\\\" jotted down next to all but\",\n \"s turned back\\n to her laptop, bringing up police reports and crime scene\\n photos.\\n SALANDER\\n Rebecka was the first, like you\\n thought ... M.H., is Mari Holmberg\\n - a prostitute in Kalmar - murdered\\n in 1954. Leviticus verse 20, line\\n 18.\\n 91.\\n 91.\\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\\n\\n BLOMK\",\n \"She pours milk in her coffee from the carton she just\\n bought. Pushes over two faded Polaroid photos. He picks\\n them up:\\n One shows a young girl about 14, naked from the waist up,\\n head turned half-away from the camera. The second shows\\n her on her stomach on a bed, completely naked, face\\n turned to the photographer, frightened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Harriet?\\n\\n SALANDER\\n I think so.\\n\\n Blomkvist\"\n ],\n [\n \" Trying to look like he's just out for a stroll,\\n Blomkvist walks past Martin's dark house, then turns\\n around, walks up the front path to the porch and makes a\\n show of knocking on the door, just in case anyone on the\\n island can see him, which is doubtful in this darkness.\\n He tries the door. Locked. Comes down off the porch as\\n if leaving, but then veers off the path and walks around\\n to the side of the house.\\n\\n He peers through a floor-\",\n \" moment later, Blomkvist hears a sound of tires on gravel.\\n Martin is back, and Blomkvist is in his house.\\n\\n We rush back down the hall with Blomkvist. Hopefully\\n Martin will enter through the front door because we're\\n going to try to get out the back one -\\n\\n Blomkvist trips over something in the dark and we go down\\n with him. Then up again - through the kitchen - past the\\n basement door - grabs a knife from a drawer - shoves it\\n in a\",\n \"\\n\\n LIV\\n I found him at death's door halfway\\n up the hill.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm afraid I'm a bit out of shape.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n No, it's a climb for anyone. I\\n should've warned you. Come on in.\\n\\n Blomkvist puts a bottle of aquavit in Martin's hand.\\n82 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 82\\n\\n The place is far\",\n \"Blomkvist's cottage. The\\n headlights blink off. Someone climbs out.\\n\\n218D INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 218D\\n\\n Blomkvist comes into a study. Lots of books and framed\\n photographs. He begins looking around.\\n\\n218E EXT. HEDEBY ISLAND - NIGHT 218E\\n\\n The headlights come up the road leading to the point.\\n218F INT. MARTIN'S\",\n \"218E\\n\\n The headlights come up the road leading to the point.\\n218F INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 218F\\n\\n Blomkvist approaches a gun case in the study. Hunting\\n rifles. Three of them - and an empty space for a fourth\\n one.\\n\\n The trees outside the study window flare with light. A\\n moment later, Blomkvist hears a sound of tires on gravel.\\n Martin is back, and Blomkvist is in his\",\n \"him. Then up again - through the kitchen - past the\\n basement door - grabs a knife from a drawer - shoves it\\n in a back pocket - hurries out the rear door -\\n\\n219 EXT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS 219\\n Blomkvist tries to steady his breathing as he slinks\\n around the side of the house. As he passes a window, it\\n lights up - and we again hit the ground with him.\\n He hurries across the yard, trips over something in\",\n \" Mikael, it did work. You're here.\\n They come through a pantry, at the end of which is a\\n door.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Open it.\\n Blomkvist does. Sees steps leading into darkness. As\\n they descend Martin flicks a switch and bare fluorescent\\n tubes flicker on to reveal: A furnace. Washer. Dryer.\\n Old discarded furniture. And another door. A steel one.\\n As they approach it, Martin presses a little remote and\",\n \"228A\\n\\n Blomkvist comes to on the floor, handcuffed to a chain\\n that runs through a metal eyelet. He sees Martin behind\\n a video camera on a tripod, focusing it - a shelf full of\\n Betamax tapes - and a TV monitor on which his own image\\n then appears.\\n Note: the steel door if we were close enough to it to\\n notice - which we aren't - is not locked. It's not even\\n completely shut.\\n\\n Satisfied with the framing of the shot\",\n \"have a flashlight? I'll\\n give you one.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I just wasn't being careful.\\n\\n Martin smiles, but Blomkvist isn't sure what he said\\n warrants one. Martin begins rummaging through a drawer\\n for a flashlight. The knife block - with one missing -\\n is right there.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n How's the investigation?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nothing new to report.\\n\\n Blom\",\n \"IN\\n How's the investigation?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Nothing new to report.\\n\\n Blomkvist notices a drop of blood from his pantleg on\\n the stone floor and covers it up with his shoe. Martin,\\n not seeming to notice, finds a mini-Maglite in the\\n drawer.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Dirch says Ms. Salander is clever.\\n Maybe she'll turn something up.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Maybe.\\n\",\n \"bag in the kitchen.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n What happened to you?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n When.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Now.\\n\\n Blomkvist's clothes. The fresh mud stains.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I fell in the dark.\\n MARTIN\\n You don't have a flashlight? I'll\\n give you one.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I just wasn'\",\n \"wandering through it looking for vending machines.\\n\\n She finds some. Drops coins in one. A cup fills with\\n coffee. She gets a candy bar from another. The coffee\\n machine finishes. The place again plunges into silence.\\n She starts back with her snack down a hallway -\\n\\n217 EXT. HEDEBY ISLAND - NIGHT 217\\n\\n Trying to look like he's just out for a stroll,\\n Blomkvist walks past Martin's dark house, then turns\",\n \"Hi. How are you?\\n\\n Martin pulls a golf bag from his trunk and shoulders it.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n I stopped at the hospital on my way\\n home. Henrik asked me to ask you\\n something.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Come on in, I'll make you a drink.\\n\\n Naturally, this is the last thing Blomkvist wants to do,\\n but it would be more suspicious if he refuses. He heads\\n\",\n \" What have you (found) -\\n Blomkvist hangs up and takes off at a trot toward the\\n bridge -\\n133 EXT. VANGER MANOR - LATER 133\\n\\n He reaches the manor just as the ambulance is leaving\\n and Martin is climbing into his Range Rover. He looks\\n undone.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What's happened?\\n MARTIN\\n We were talking. He started\\n rubbing at\",\n \"'s done.\\n225 EXT. VANGER ARCHIVES BUILDING - NIGHT 225\\n\\n Crossing the empty parking lot, she tries Blomkvist on\\n her cell. Gets his voice mail. Kick-starts her bike.\\n226 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 226\\n\\n Martin \\\"leads\\\" Blomkvist from behind back to the kitchen,\\n switching off lights as they go.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n You know what\",\n \"and floor - table with leather straps - bed with leather\\n straps - steel-mesh cage - work bench with handsaws and\\n other tools -\\n\\n Blomkvist takes it in with one glance and immediately\\n turns to try to smash the glass in his hand into Martin's\\n face - which is covered now with a plastic oxygen mask he\\n holds to it. Gas plumes down on Blomkvist from above;\\n the glass comes out of his hand, shattering on the cement\\n floor -\\n\\n228 EXT. HEDEBY\",\n \". In your Uppsala prep school\\n blazer.\\n\\nMartin doesn't see the significance, but is pleased\\nBlomkvist has decided to \\\"participate.\\\" He rewards him by\\nsuspending his shower curtain work to return to the\\nchair. It squeaks again.\\n MARTIN\\n What does that say?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n That you lied about where you were\\n that day. Or rather when.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Did I? If I did, so what. \",\n \"Blomkvist's pocket when\\n he was out cold.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n I can't thank you enough for bringing\\n her to me.\\n228B INT. COTTAGE - NIGHT 228B\\n\\n As Salander gets the door open with her key and comes in -\\n SALANDER\\n Mikael - ?\\n\\n He's clearly not here. She goes to the closet. Takes\\n out the surveillance PC. Puts it on the desk - next to\\n Bl\",\n \"go hunting.\\n\\nMartin pulls open a bar drawer and takes from it a\\nhandgun.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n A gun. Rather than a knife.\\n\\nHe gives a little gesture with it to the handle of the\\nknife protruding from a back pocket of Blomkvist's jeans.\\nThere are fresh drops of blood on the floor next to his\\nshoes.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n You just couldn't stay away, could\\n you.\\n\\nBlomkvist doesn't know what to say. Martin's\",\n \"its pocket - the same as on\\n Lena Andersson's sweater in the photo of her in the\\n article about her murder.\\n221 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 221\\n\\n It's not as eerie with the lights on - except for the\\n fact there's a killer in it. Martin sets the golf clubs\\n down and begins emptying a grocery bag in the kitchen.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n What happened to you?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"of the oar down, burying it in his head\\n like an axe.\\n\\n He stares up her, uncomprehending. His fingers slide\\n away from the dock. His body goes limp and sinks out of\\n sight beneath the water.\\n HARRIET V/O\\n When it was finally over I looked\\n up, and Martin was standing there -\\n\\n She sees her brother up by the cabin looking down at her.\\n HARRIET V/O\\n With a little smile.\\n\",\n \"The rain does nothing to dampen it. She could\\n probably brave it to pull Martin out - but doesn't.\\n As the flames burn his clothes, he manages to get his\\n hands on the rifle he took from the den, turns its barrel\\n to his bloody head - but before he can pull the trigger,\\n she hurries over, yanks it from his grasp and stands back\\n again. It's much more cathartic to watch him burn ...\\n 135.\\n 135.\\n \\n\\n\",\n \"for the kill, but she veers\\n hard to one side, leaving him headed straight for the gas\\n station Blomkvist makes his pay phone calls from - and\\n the tanker truck parked there -\\n\\n Martin hits the brakes - hydroplanes into the truck - and\\n its, or his own tank, or both, explode -\\n Salander circles back. Regards the fire engulfing the\\n car. The rain does nothing to dampen it. She could\\n probably brave it to pull Martin out - but doesn't.\\n As the flames burn\",\n \"a roll of\\ncellophane, pulls on the strap again until Blomkvist is\\nbalancing on his tiptoes, and ties it off.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Too tight to talk?\\nIt is. Blomkvist can utter no sound but a gag.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n Good. I'm tired of talking to you.\\n\\nHe wraps Blomkvist's head in cellophane, completely\\ncutting off his ability to breathe, and calmly watches\\nhim struggle. ...\\n MART\",\n \"lifts him\\n onto his tiptoes.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n What happened to her.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You're choking me -\\n MARTIN\\n You found her?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You killed her.\\n\\n Martin just stares at him confused. Then -\\n\\n MARTIN\\n You useless fuckin detective.\\n 132.\\n 132.\\n \\n\\nHe\",\n \".\\n \\\"Maybe if I say the right thing - if\\n I'm polite - or I cry and beg - maybe\\n I'll survive.\\\"\\n (regards Blomkvist)\\n And then the moment comes when they\\n realize ... no, all hope is gone.\\n (MORE)\\n 130.\\n 130.\\n \\n MARTIN (CONT'D)\\n And when that happens - when I see\\n the hope draining from their face\\n like it\",\n \"\\n\\n LIV\\n I found him at death's door halfway\\n up the hill.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm afraid I'm a bit out of shape.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n No, it's a climb for anyone. I\\n should've warned you. Come on in.\\n\\n Blomkvist puts a bottle of aquavit in Martin's hand.\\n82 INT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 82\\n\\n The place is far\",\n \"'s head in cellophane, completely\\ncutting off his ability to breathe, and calmly watches\\nhim struggle. ...\\n MARTIN\\n Would you like me to do something\\n about that?\\n\\nBlomkvist desperately nods as he's about to suffocate.\\nMartin watches another several moments ... then pokes a\\nfinger through the cellophane into Blomkvist's gasping\\nmouth.\\n MARTIN\\n See? I'm not a monster.\\nHe frames a wide shot of his naked prey. Turns\",\n \"school in Uppsala. And I\\n thought maybe - maybe - the nightmare\\n was over. Until that day.\\n The float with the harem girls comes past, and we watch\\n the smile on young Harriet's face change to fear as she\\n notices something off to the left.\\n HARRIET V/O\\n There he was - across the street -\\n looking at me with that same little\\n smile on his face.\\n\\n A clear shot of young Martin in his Uppsala blazer\",\n \"room, and down the hall to the study. She\\n eases around the doorway - the room is empty - looks to\\n the gun case - sees there are only two rifles there now.\\n She hears an engine start outside. Hurries back through\\n the house. Sees out the picture window the taillights of\\n Martin's car receding fast down the road as clouds burst.\\n\\n She bangs out the front door. Runs halfway down the\\n hill in the rain to where she left her motorcycle, jumps\\n on and kick-starts\",\n \"go hunting.\\n\\nMartin pulls open a bar drawer and takes from it a\\nhandgun.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n A gun. Rather than a knife.\\n\\nHe gives a little gesture with it to the handle of the\\nknife protruding from a back pocket of Blomkvist's jeans.\\nThere are fresh drops of blood on the floor next to his\\nshoes.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n You just couldn't stay away, could\\n you.\\n\\nBlomkvist doesn't know what to say. Martin's\",\n \"'t get a grip. Martin watches the struggle\\ncalmly, and just as calmly offers:\\n\\n MARTIN\\n It's time. I don't want to be late\\n for my date with our girlfriend.\\n 133.\\n 133.\\n Dragon Tattoo Final 9/1/11 SZ\\n\\nHe puts on a plastic rain poncho. A painter's mask.\\nPlastic goggles. Surgeons gloves. Picks up a hunting\\nknife. Steps\",\n \"omkvist who only witnessed part\\nof the spectacle before losing consciousness -\\n\\nShe saws through the leather strap around his neck.\\nUnlocks the chain. As he sinks to his knees on the\\nfloor, blood rushes to his head, bringing him back to\\nlife just enough to see what she can't behind her -\\n\\nMartin, blood streaming from the gash in his head,\\ngetting to his feet. But he's not coming at them; he's\\ntrying to get out -\\n\\nBlomkvist tries to say her name to get her\",\n \" You'd never think the fear of\\n offending could be stronger than the\\n fear of pain - but you know what? It\\n is. They always come willingly.\\n\\nIt amazes him. It always amazes him. He keeps working.\\n MARTIN\\n And then they're here. They know\\n it's over like you do - and still\\n somehow think they have a chance.\\n \\\"Maybe if I say the right thing - if\\n I'm polite - or I cry and beg - maybe\\n I'll\",\n \"ael?\\n (he manages a nod)\\n We're going to the same place.\\n Hop in.\\n\\n81 EXT. MARTIN'S HOUSE - EVENING 81\\n\\n Martin, wearing an apron, opens the door to find both his\\n dinner guests on the porch.\\n 41.\\n 41.\\n \\n\\n LIV\\n I found him at death's door halfway\\n up the hill.\\n\\n BLOMKV\",\n \"poncho. A painter's mask.\\nPlastic goggles. Surgeons gloves. Picks up a hunting\\nknife. Steps up to Blomkvist. Looks at his eyes.\\nBrings his own head close to his victim's -\\n MARTIN\\n Goodbye, Mikael.\\nHe pulls the strap, lifting Blomkvist's toes off the\\nfloor, closing off his air again ... and is about to gut\\nhim like a wild boar ... when he hears a sound like some\\nkind of animal behind him ...\\n\\nHe\",\n \".\\n Another immigrant whore. Who misses\\n them?\\n\\n He returns to his work bench to lay out various tools\\n next to his gun and a desk phone.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Your sister wasn't just another girl.\\n Martin comes back quickly and yanks a strap that cinches\\n the noose tighter around Blomkvist's neck as it lifts him\\n onto his tiptoes.\\n\\n MARTIN\\n What happened to her.\\n\\n BLO\",\n \"he died.\\n\\n Blomkvist can't hide his horror even after all he's seen.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Why didn't you tell someone?\\n HARRIET\\n I did. My mother.\\n\\n Blomkvist stares. Finally -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Henrik would have done something.\\n\\n HARRIET\\n Would he? I don't know. I almost\\n told him. But I was afraid because\",\n \" company in the country. At the\\n height, we had 40,000 employees. We\\n have about half that now, and that\\n downward slide - anyone can tell you -\\n began after my sister's death. It\\n broke Henrik's entrepreneurial\\n spirit, and his heart.\\n\\nAnd Martin's, too, clearly. Blomkvist dares to ask, as\\ninnocently as possible -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You were here that day?\\n\\n MARTIN\\n\",\n \"passes a window, it\\n lights up - and we again hit the ground with him.\\n He hurries across the yard, trips over something in the\\n dark - a sprinkler? - and goes down again into wet muck.\\n\\n He gets up and starts down the road as if returning from\\n a leisurely evening walk - which would be more convincing\\n without the limp - not daring to look back as he goes.\\n 120.\\n 120.\\n \\n\\n MARTIN O\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n Blomkvist knocks on the door. Anita pulls it open.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It's me. Sorry to bother you.\\n\\n She doesn't invite him in, but doesn't shut the door in\\n his face either.\\n ANITA\\n What do you want?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n No one's called you?\\n\\n ANITA\\n About.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n \",\n \"she was very unhappy.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She never confided in you what about,\\n specifically?\\n ANITA\\n There was no specifically. It was\\n everything. It was being part of\\n that family. Henrik's the only\\n decent person in it.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n What do you think happened to her?\\n\\n ANITA\\n Everyone knows what.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n But you have no ... thoughts about\\n why, or\",\n \"\\n\\n ANITA\\n I never saw it myself, but you could\\n tell something was going on. One day\\n she'd be withdrawn. The next she'd\\n be putting on makeup and wearing the\\n tightest sweater she had to school.\\n The next she'd be studying a Bible\\n like a nun - no Vanger was ever\\n religious - can you imagine?\\n Obviously, she was very unhappy.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n She never confided in you what about,\\n specifically?\\n \",\n \"the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\\nwas about 17 years old.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n She knew Harriet better than anyone -\\n certainly better than I did. You\\n should talk to her.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'd love to, where is she.\\n CECILIA\\n If I had to guess - London.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You don't know where your own sister\\n lives?\\n\\n CECILIA\\n \",\n \"one's called you?\\n\\n ANITA\\n About.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Your cousin.\\n\\n She has two, but doesn't ask which -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Martin.\\n\\n ANITA\\n What about him?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n He died last Thursday. A car\\n accident. I'm sorry.\\n (nothing from her)\\n There's going to be\",\n \"That's fair. She finishes. They lie there. Then -\\n\\n SALANDER\\n Okay, what.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I was just thinking, there could be\\n one other possibility.\\n\\n248 OMIT: INT. HOTEL ROOM - LONDON - NIGHT 248\\n249 INT. INVESTMENT BANK - LONDON - DAY 249\\n\\n Blomkvist taps on Anita'\",\n \".\\n\\n ANITA\\n What do you understand?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n That you don't really care for any of\\n your relatives. Still, I thought you\\n should know.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Now I know.\\n\\n And now, she closes the door.\\n 142.\\n 142.\\n \\n\\n244 OMIT: INT. ANITA'S HOUSE - LOND\",\n \"Thursday. A car\\n accident. I'm sorry.\\n (nothing from her)\\n There's going to be a memorial in\\n Hedestad. I know you haven't been\\n back there in a long time, but -\\n ANITA\\n I'm not interested in any memorial.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I understand.\\n\\n ANITA\\n What do you understand?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n That you don\",\n \" ANITA\\nShe was messed up. Like all us\\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\\nfather. At least hers wasn't a Nazi\\nlike mine.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nWas he abusive?\\n\\n ANITA\\nMine?\\n BLOMKVIST\\nHers.\\n 52.\\n 52.\\n \\n\\n ANITA\\n I never saw it myself, but you could\\n tell something was going on. One day\\n she'\",\n \"The accent is all British. She's been here much longer\\n than her home country. No trace of Swedish anymore. He\\n offers his hand -\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I'm Mikael.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Mikael. How do you do.\\n\\n As he sits, she regards him a little more carefully ...\\n\\n ANITA\\n You're looking for investment\\n counseling, Mikael?\\n BLOMKVIST\\n I would if had any money to invest.\",\n \"\\npoliceman - when it happened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\nMorell.\\n\\n ANITA\\nMy recollections then were a lot\\nbetter than they are now.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nI'm not speaking of the crime itself.\\nI'm trying to get a clearer sense of\\nwhat Harriet was like. Particularly,\\ntoward the end.\\n\\n ANITA\\nShe was messed up. Like all us\\nVanger kids. Crazy mother. Drunken\\nfather. At least hers\",\n \"it really matter what her name\\n is?\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n It would if I wanted to speak to her,\\n which I do.\\n ARMANSKY\\n Against policy.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n You sure?\\n\\n ARMANSKY\\n Just like your sources. You\\n understand.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Let me give you a name then.\\n\\n He jots \\\"Annika Giannini\\\" on one of Armansky's Post-I\",\n \"BLOMKVIST\\n He was my age then, and so couldn't\\n know what was really going on with a\\n teenager any more than I can with my\\n own daughter. You were her age.\\n 46.\\n 46.\\n \\n\\n CECILIA\\n Actually, my sister Anita was closer\\n to her in age.\\n\\nINSERT of the photo on the wall of Anita, taken when she\\nwas about 17 years old.\\n\\n CECILIA\\n She\",\n \"ANITA\\n Everyone knows what.\\n BLOMKVIST\\n But you have no ... thoughts about\\n why, or who.\\n ANITA\\n All I know is I always felt sorry\\n for her. Even more than for myself.\\n I got out of there when I was 18 and\\n never went back. She would have done\\n the same but didn't make it to 18.\\n96 EXT. STOCKHOLM - DAY 96\\n\\n Salander, on\",\n \"\\nI wouldn't know where to start, if\\nthat was a question.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\nI can narrow it. I've gotten up to\\nthe 1960s. To the event that altered\\neverything in Henrik's life.\\n ANITA\\nHarriet.\\n (he nods)\\nEverything I knew about that I told\\nto - whatever his name was - that\\npoliceman - when it happened.\\n BLOMKVIST\\nMorell.\\n\\n ANITA\\nMy recollections\",\n \"Behind her, Harriet packs a few items of clothing.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Don't take anything.\\n Harriet puts the clothes back. Picks up her purse.\\n\\n ANITA\\n Leave that, too.\\n\\n256 INT. VANGER MANOR - NIGHT - 1966 256\\n\\n The dinner that night. Vanger noticing Harriet's empty\\n chair. And Anita saying nothing, taking a bite of food.\\n\\n257 EXT\",\n \"s.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Is she's alive, there's only one\\n person in this family who would know\\n where she is.\\n\\n He takes the photo of Anita down from the wall.\\n\\n239 INT. HOSPITAL - DAY 239\\n Henrik sits in one of the chairs. Blomkvist in another.\\n Salander prefers to stand. Eventually -\\n VANGER\\n Poor Martin.\\n\\n Clearly, he hasn\",\n \". He checks a scribbled floor plan of\\n the manor and sees that it's Harriet's bedroom.\\n\\n But he's not sure if it's Harriet. The figure is too\\n soft to identify - even with a magnifying glass - but is\\n wearing a light-colored dress and has light hair.\\n He glances to the family tree on the wall - the teenage\\n Vanger girls' photos -\\n\\n Three INSERTS: Harriet ... Cecelia ... Anita ...\\n\\n They all have light hair, and\",\n \"hung me\\n from a hook ... Harriet.\\n250 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY 250\\n They sit together on a park bench.\\n\\n BLOMKVIST\\n Anita married in Stockholm in 1967.\\n It's recorded in the Swedish General\\n Register. But the family never knew,\\n did they.\\n (she confirms that with a\\n shake of her head)\\n I'm guessing she then\",\n \"car outside her father Harald's\\n house. Drives down the road toward the bridge.\\n ANITA\\n Stay absolutely still.\\n\\n The blanket covering Harriet on the backseat floorboard\\n moves slightly, then is still.\\n A policeman on the island side of the bridge waves the\\n car across it. As it heads along the mainland service\\n road toward the highway -\\n HARRIET V/O\\n She saved me.\\n\\n258 EXT. PARK - LONDON - DAY\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["What does Henrick Vanger want Mikael Bomkvist to do?","Who is Pernilla?","What does Mikael Bromkvist want from Henrick Vanger?","Why is Salander under state legal guardianship?","Who saves Bromkvist when he is attacked by Martin?","What does Bromkvist find out about the death of Harriet?","Who is Anita?","Who provides Bromkvist with evidence of Hans-Erik Wennerstrom's crimes?","Why does Bromkvist want damning information about Hans-Erik Wennerstrom?","What magazine does Mikael Blomkvist own? ","Who is Harriet?","Who is Nils Bjurman?","What do the numbers in the notebook that Blomkvist found represent?","Who discovers the information about the murders?","Who does Anita reveal herself to be?","How does Martin die?","Who does Blomkvist end up with?","Who is Holger Palmgren?","Why is Salander under state legal guardianship?","Why does Blomkvist decide to help Vanger investigate the murder of Harriet?","Why is Salander appointed a new guardian?","What does Bjurman do to Salander?","What does Salander do to Bjurman after he had already raped her?","What does Salander blackmail Bjurman for?","What does Salander discover about the notebooks that Blomkvist found?","Who does Salander discover to be the murderers?","What happens when Blomkvist breaks into Martin's house?","How does Martin die?","Who does Anita turn out to be?"],"string":"[\n \"What does Henrick Vanger want Mikael Bomkvist to do?\",\n \"Who is Pernilla?\",\n \"What does Mikael Bromkvist want from Henrick Vanger?\",\n \"Why is Salander under state legal guardianship?\",\n \"Who saves Bromkvist when he is attacked by Martin?\",\n \"What does Bromkvist find out about the death of Harriet?\",\n \"Who is Anita?\",\n \"Who provides Bromkvist with evidence of Hans-Erik Wennerstrom's crimes?\",\n \"Why does Bromkvist want damning information about Hans-Erik Wennerstrom?\",\n \"What magazine does Mikael Blomkvist own? \",\n \"Who is Harriet?\",\n \"Who is Nils Bjurman?\",\n \"What do the numbers in the notebook that Blomkvist found represent?\",\n \"Who discovers the information about the murders?\",\n \"Who does Anita reveal herself to be?\",\n \"How does Martin die?\",\n \"Who does Blomkvist end up with?\",\n \"Who is Holger Palmgren?\",\n \"Why is Salander under state legal guardianship?\",\n \"Why does Blomkvist decide to help Vanger investigate the murder of Harriet?\",\n \"Why is Salander appointed a new guardian?\",\n \"What does Bjurman do to Salander?\",\n \"What does Salander do to Bjurman after he had already raped her?\",\n \"What does Salander blackmail Bjurman for?\",\n \"What does Salander discover about the notebooks that Blomkvist found?\",\n \"Who does Salander discover to be the murderers?\",\n \"What happens when Blomkvist breaks into Martin's house?\",\n \"How does Martin die?\",\n \"Who does Anita turn out to be?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["Investigate the disappearance and possible death of Harriet.","To investigate the disappearance of his grandniece Harriet. "],["Mikael Bomkvist's daughter.","Blomkvist's daughter"],["Damning information about Hans-Erik Wennerstrom","Information to use against Wennerstrom"],["Diagnosed mental icompentancy","She was declared mentally incompetent"],["Salander","Salander"],["That she is still alive.","She is still alive, Hattiet was posing as Anita."],["Harriet's cousin","The cousin of Harriet"],["Salander","Salander"],["Because he lost a liabel lawsuit that Wennerstrom filed against him.","he lost a case against him"],["Millennium ","Millenium Magazine"],["Henrik Vanger's grandniece who disappeared and is assumed dead","Henrick's grandniece"],["Salander's new legal guardian who she blackmails","Salander's new guardian."],["Bible verses","Bible versus"],["Salander does after being hired to research the notebooks contents","Lisbeth Salander"],["Harriet, the presumed dead grand niece of Vanger","Harriet "],["In a car crash after being chased by Salander.","He wrecks his SUV and it catches on fire"],["One of his ex girlfriends","Erika Berger"],["Salanders old caretaker who she confides in about her feelings for Blomkvist","Salander's previous guardian."],["Mental Incompetence","Mental incompetency "],["He agrees in exchange for information against Wennerstrom.","Vanger had an extensive background check done on Blomkvist."],["Salander's previous guardian had a stroke.","Her old guardian had a stroke "],["He uses his authority to extort Salander and violently rapes her.","rapes her"],["She stuns Bjurman with a stungun, uses a dildo on him, and tattoos his stomach and chest with signs that he is a rapist.","She rapes him with a dildo, marks him with a tattoo, and then blackmails him into writing a report of her progress so she can regain control of her money."],["Salander blackmails Bjurman with the recording for a great progress report which eventually grants her control of her money.","To write her a glowing progress report and grant her full access to her money."],["She discovers a connection to murders of young women over the course of 20 years.","It is connected to a series of murders of women who have Jewish of biblical names"],["She discovers that Martin and his deceased father are the killers.","Gottfried and Martin"],["Martin catches Blomkvist and begins torturing him.","Martin catches him and trys to kill him"],["After Salander chases Martin on her motorcycle, Martin loses control of his SUV and crashes.","car accident"],["Anita is Harriet in disguise.","Harriet "]],"string":"[\n [\n \"Investigate the disappearance and possible death of Harriet.\",\n \"To investigate the disappearance of his grandniece Harriet. \"\n ],\n [\n \"Mikael Bomkvist's daughter.\",\n \"Blomkvist's daughter\"\n ],\n [\n \"Damning information about Hans-Erik Wennerstrom\",\n \"Information to use against Wennerstrom\"\n ],\n [\n \"Diagnosed mental icompentancy\",\n \"She was declared mentally incompetent\"\n ],\n [\n \"Salander\",\n \"Salander\"\n ],\n [\n \"That she is still alive.\",\n \"She is still alive, Hattiet was posing as Anita.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Harriet's cousin\",\n \"The cousin of Harriet\"\n ],\n [\n \"Salander\",\n \"Salander\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because he lost a liabel lawsuit that Wennerstrom filed against him.\",\n \"he lost a case against him\"\n ],\n [\n \"Millennium \",\n \"Millenium Magazine\"\n ],\n [\n \"Henrik Vanger's grandniece who disappeared and is assumed dead\",\n \"Henrick's grandniece\"\n ],\n [\n \"Salander's new legal guardian who she blackmails\",\n \"Salander's new guardian.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Bible verses\",\n \"Bible versus\"\n ],\n [\n \"Salander does after being hired to research the notebooks contents\",\n \"Lisbeth Salander\"\n ],\n [\n \"Harriet, the presumed dead grand niece of Vanger\",\n \"Harriet \"\n ],\n [\n \"In a car crash after being chased by Salander.\",\n \"He wrecks his SUV and it catches on fire\"\n ],\n [\n \"One of his ex girlfriends\",\n \"Erika Berger\"\n ],\n [\n \"Salanders old caretaker who she confides in about her feelings for Blomkvist\",\n \"Salander's previous guardian.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Mental Incompetence\",\n \"Mental incompetency \"\n ],\n [\n \"He agrees in exchange for information against Wennerstrom.\",\n \"Vanger had an extensive background check done on Blomkvist.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Salander's previous guardian had a stroke.\",\n \"Her old guardian had a stroke \"\n ],\n [\n \"He uses his authority to extort Salander and violently rapes her.\",\n \"rapes her\"\n ],\n [\n \"She stuns Bjurman with a stungun, uses a dildo on him, and tattoos his stomach and chest with signs that he is a rapist.\",\n \"She rapes him with a dildo, marks him with a tattoo, and then blackmails him into writing a report of her progress so she can regain control of her money.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Salander blackmails Bjurman with the recording for a great progress report which eventually grants her control of her money.\",\n \"To write her a glowing progress report and grant her full access to her money.\"\n ],\n [\n \"She discovers a connection to murders of young women over the course of 20 years.\",\n \"It is connected to a series of murders of women who have Jewish of biblical names\"\n ],\n [\n \"She discovers that Martin and his deceased father are the killers.\",\n \"Gottfried and Martin\"\n ],\n [\n \"Martin catches Blomkvist and begins torturing him.\",\n \"Martin catches him and trys to kill him\"\n ],\n [\n \"After Salander chases Martin on her motorcycle, Martin loses control of his SUV and crashes.\",\n \"car accident\"\n ],\n [\n \"Anita is Harriet in disguise.\",\n \"Harriet \"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"987d3e31dc8b6029a2b9450243e122c8862bbc24"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":22,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["of these\nproceedings ordained by law. He would not know where to turn, he\nconfessed, clearly thinking aloud rather than talking to me. Certificate\ngone, career broken, no money to get away, no work that he could obtain\nas far as he could see. At home he could perhaps get something; but it\nmeant going to his people for help, and that he would not do. He\nsaw nothing for it but ship before the mast--could get perhaps a\nquartermaster's billet in some steamer. Would do for a quartermaster.\n","skippers to take it there) did\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cornelius within an\ninch of his life; on the other hand, the scenes were of so painful\na character, so abominable, that his impulse would be to get out of\nearshot, in order to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,\nspeechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a stony,\ndesperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and say","Seas were getting too hot to hold gentlemen of his\nkidney. Clearly he must have shifted the scene of his operations farther\nwest, because a year later he plays an incredibly audacious, but not a\nvery profitable part, in a serio-comic business in Manila Bay, in which\na peculating governor and an absconding treasurer are the principal\nfigures; thereafter he seems to have hung around the Philippines in his\nrotten schooner battling with un adverse fortune, till at last, running\nhis appointed course, he sails into Jim's","good wages and as much humouring\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\n\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\nwas","loved, enjoyed, or hated; all that is\npriceless and necessary--the sunshine, the memories, the future; which\nmeans to sweep the whole precious world utterly away from his sight by\nthe simple and appalling act of taking his life.\n\nJim, disabled by a falling spar at the beginning of a week of which his\nScottish captain used to say afterwards, 'Man! it's a pairfect meeracle\nto me how she lived through it!' spent many days stretched on his back,\ndazed, battered, hopeless, and tormented as","him in a boat-cloak and took him off as quick as they could,\nwith a dark night coming on, the weather threatening, and the ship\nfiring recall guns every five minutes. Three weeks afterwards he was as\nwell as ever. He didn't allow any fuss that was made on shore to upset\nhim; he just shut his lips tight, and let people screech. It was bad\nenough to have lost his ship, and all he was worth besides, without\npaying attention to the hard names they called him. That's the man for\nme.\" He lifted","less it had for its object the killing of a donkeyman and the bringing\nof worse than death upon Jim, appeared an utterly aimless piece of\ndevilry. This view occurring to me took off my attention. For a time I\nwas aware of the magistrate's voice as a sound merely; but in a moment\nit shaped itself into distinct words . . . \"in utter disregard of their\nplain duty,\" it said. The next sentence escaped me somehow, and\nthen . . . \"abandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property\nconfided to their charge\"","his\nrotten schooner battling with un adverse fortune, till at last, running\nhis appointed course, he sails into Jim's history, a blind accomplice of\nthe Dark Powers.\n\n'His tale goes that when a Spanish patrol cutter captured him he was\nsimply trying to run a few guns for the insurgents. If so, then I can't\nunderstand what he was doing off the south coast of Mindanao. My belief,\nhowever, is that he was blackmailing the native villages along the\ncoast. The principal thing is","an instant after the\npassage of the ship, subsided splashing gently, calmed down at last\ninto the circular stillness of water and sky with the black speck of the\nmoving hull remaining everlastingly in its centre.\n\nJim on the bridge was penetrated by the great certitude of unbounded\nsafety and peace that could be read on the silent aspect of nature like\nthe certitude of fostering love upon the placid tenderness of a mother's\nface. Below the roof of awnings, surrendered to the wisdom of white men\n","ating enthusiastically with a Parsee firm for an\nold, brig-rigged, sea-anachronism of ninety horse-power. We had met and\nspoken together several times. He looked knowingly after Jim. \"Takes\nit to heart?\" he asked scornfully. \"Very much,\" I said. \"Then he's no\ngood,\" he opined. \"What's all the to-do about? A bit of ass's skin. That\nnever yet made a man. You must see things exactly as they are--if you\ndon't, you may","get so far--begging my way from ship to\nship.\"\n\n'Jim said nothing to this. At last, throwing away the switch he held in\nhis hand, he said, as if speaking to himself, \"I don't know whether I\nhave the power.\" . . . \"You don't know! And you wanted me just now to\ngive up my arms! That's good, too,\" cried Brown; \"Suppose they say one\nthing to you, and do the other thing to me.\" He calmed down markedly. \"I\ndare say you","suddenly the chief engineer rushed again at Jim.\n\n'\"Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw your only chance away? Come\nand help, man! Man! Look there--look!\"\n\n'And at last Jim looked astern where the other pointed with maniacal\ninsistence. He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already\none-third of the sky. You know how these squalls come up there about\nthat time of the year. First you see a darkening of the horizon--no\nmore; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall. A straight","plorable faculty, added a\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\none might say--Lord Jim.\n\nOriginally he came from a parsonage. Many commanders of fine\nmerchant-ships come from these abodes of piety and peace. Jim's father\npossessed such certain knowledge of the Unknowable as made for the\nrighteousness of people in cottages without disturbing the ease of mind\nof those whom an unerring Providence enables to live in mansions. The\nlittle","ited, under his misbegotten name: first lieutenant in\nthe Royal Siamese Navy. The fellow, of course, was utterly hopeless at\nbilliards, but did not like to be beaten, I suppose. He had had enough\nto drink to turn nasty after the sixth game, and make some scornful\nremark at Jim's expense. Most of the people there didn't hear what\nwas said, and those who had heard seemed to have had all precise\nrecollection scared out of them by the appalling nature of the\nconsequences that immediately ensued. It","ould have served the devil himself had he made it easy\nenough. They talked everlastingly of turns of luck: how So-and-so got\ncharge of a boat on the coast of China--a soft thing; how this one had\nan easy billet in Japan somewhere, and that one was doing well in the\nSiamese navy; and in all they said--in their actions, in their looks, in\ntheir persons--could be detected the soft spot, the place of decay, the\ndetermination to lounge safely through existence.\n\nTo Jim that gossiping crowd,","seemed possessed of some mysterious theory of defence.\n\n'So these two lascars stuck to the helm of that ship without\nsteerage-way, where death would have found them if such had been their\ndestiny. The whites did not give them half a glance, had probably\nforgotten their existence. Assuredly Jim did not remember it. He\nremembered he could do nothing; he could do nothing, now he was alone.\nThere was nothing to do but to sink with the ship. No use making a\ndisturbance about it. Was there? He waited upstanding","he had departed from his\nprinciples, so that his second, a weak-headed child of Wapping, what\nwith the unexpectedness of the treat and the strength of the stuff,\nhad become very happy, cheeky, and talkative. The fury of the New South\nWales German was extreme; he puffed like an exhaust-pipe, and Jim,\nfaintly amused by the scene, was impatient for the time when he could\nget below: the last ten minutes of the watch were irritating like a\ngun that hangs fire; those men did not belong to","urbed by the vagaries of\nintelligence and the perversions of--of nerves, let us say. He was the\nkind of fellow you would, on the strength of his looks, leave in charge\nof the deck--figuratively and professionally speaking. I say I would,\nand I ought to know. Haven't I turned out youngsters enough in my time,\nfor the service of the Red Rag, to the craft of the sea, to the craft\nwhose whole secret could be expressed in one short sentence, and yet\nmust be driven afresh every day into young heads till it","who know nothing of indecision, much less of self-mistrust.\nAt thirty-two he had one of the best commands going in the Eastern\ntrade--and, what's more, he thought a lot of what he had. There was\nnothing like it in the world, and I suppose if you had asked him\npoint-blank he would have confessed that in his opinion there was not\nsuch another commander. The choice had fallen upon the right man. The\nrest of mankind that did not command the sixteen-knot steel steamer Ossa\nwere rather poor creatures","A month or so afterwards, when Jim, in answer to pointed questions,\ntried to tell honestly the truth of this experience, he said, speaking\nof the ship: 'She went over whatever it was as easy as a snake crawling\nover a stick.' The illustration was good: the questions were aiming at\nfacts, and the official Inquiry was being held in the police court of an\nEastern port. He stood elevated in the witness-box, with burning cheeks\nin a cool lofty room: the big framework of punkahs moved gently to and\nfro high above his"],["before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at the\nphenomenon. Moreover, all the glory was in his family. His son and his\nson-in-law had paddled; but they were only youths without experience,\nwho did not notice the speed of the canoe till he pointed out to them\nthe amazing fact.\n\n'Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing; but to them, as to\nmany of us, the blessing came heralded","seen. He called him Tuan\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at","first who withdraws his\narm or turns his head is a dead man,\" he said. \"March!\" They stepped out\ntogether, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing\nwhite gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light.\nErect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the\nonly sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. \"Stop!\"\ncried Jim.\n\n'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on","walking slowly alone. Brown remained standing on the log till\nJim, appearing and disappearing between the patches of thorny scrub, had\nnearly reached the creek; then Brown jumped off and went down to meet\nhim on his side.\n\n'They met, I should think, not very far from the place, perhaps on the\nvery spot, where Jim took the second desperate leap of his life--the\nleap that landed him into the life of Patusan, into the trust, the love,\nthe confidence of the people. They faced each other across the creek,\nand with","It was an act of intelligent volition. Jim between two questions forgot\nhimself so far as to find leisure for a thought. This fellow--ran the\nthought--looks at me as though he could see somebody or something past\nmy shoulder. He had come across that man before--in the street perhaps.\nHe was positive he had never spoken to him. For days, for many days,\nhe had spoken to no one, but had held silent, incoherent, and endless\nconverse with himself, like a prisoner alone in his cell or like a\nwayfarer lost in a wild","upon that straight\npath. He seemed to have been puzzled by what he saw, for he interrupted\nhimself in his narrative more than once to exclaim, \"He nearly slipped\nfrom me there. I could not make him out. Who was he?\" And after\nglaring at me wildly he would go on, jubilating and sneering. To me the\nconversation of these two across the creek appears now as the deadliest\nkind of duel on which Fate looked on with her cold-eyed knowledge of the\nend. No, he didn't turn Jim's soul","of him. No magician's wand can immobilise him under my eyes. He\nis one of us.\n\n'Jim, as I've told you, accompanied me on the first stage of my journey\nback to the world he had renounced, and the way at times seemed to\nlead through the very heart of untouched wilderness. The empty reaches\nsparkled under the high sun; between the high walls of vegetation the\nheat drowsed upon the water, and the boat, impelled vigorously, cut her\nway through the air that seemed to","imagined he was hopeless.\nThen it was that our glances met. They met, and the look he gave me was\ndiscouraging of any intention I might have had to speak to him. Upon\neither hypothesis--insolence or despair--I felt I could be of no use to\nhim. This was the second day of the proceedings. Very soon after that\nexchange of glances the inquiry was adjourned again to the next day. The\nwhite men began to troop out at once. Jim had been told to stand down\nsome time before, and was able to leave amongst","assistance. He had all the advantages on his side--possession, security,\npower; he was on the side of an overwhelming force! He was not hungry\nand desperate, and he did not seem in the least afraid. And there was\nsomething in the very neatness of Jim's clothes, from the white helmet\nto the canvas leggings and the pipeclayed shoes, which in Brown's sombre\nirritated eyes seemed to belong to things he had in the very shaping of\nhis life condemned and flouted.\n\n'\"Who are you?\" asked Jim at","dejectedly in the direction of the river. He was\nnow leaving his new friends; he accepted the disappointing course of\nevents with a sulky obstinacy which seemed to draw more together his\nlittle yellow old face; and as he went down he glanced askant here and\nthere, never giving up his fixed idea.\n\n'Henceforth events move fast without a check, flowing from the very\nhearts of men like a stream from a dark source, and we see Jim amongst\nthem, mostly through Tamb' Itam's eyes. The girl's eyes had watched him","count. Each blade of grass has its spot on earth\nwhence it draws its life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land\nfrom which he draws his faith together with his life. I don't know\nhow much Jim understood; but I know he felt, he felt confusedly but\npowerfully, the demand of some such truth or some such illusion--I don't\ncare how you call it, there is so little difference, and the difference\nmeans so little. The thing is that in virtue of his feeling he mattered.\nHe would never go home now. Not","His--if I may say so--his caustic placidity,\nand, at the same time, his intelligent sympathy with Jim's aspirations,\nappealed to me. I seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If\nJim took the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In fact, Jim\nthe leader was a captive in every sense. The land, the people, the\nfriendship, the love, were like the jealous guardians of his body.\nEvery day added a link to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt\nconvinced of","That man there seemed to be aware of his\nhopeless difficulty. Jim looked at him, then turned away resolutely, as\nafter a final parting.\n\nAnd later on, many times, in distant parts of the world, Marlow showed\nhimself willing to remember Jim, to remember him at length, in detail\nand audibly.\n\nPerhaps it would be after dinner, on a verandah draped in motionless\nfoliage and crowned with flowers, in the deep dusk speckled by fiery\ncigar-ends. The elongated bulk of each","Suppose they say one\nthing to you, and do the other thing to me.\" He calmed down markedly. \"I\ndare say you have the power, or what's the meaning of all this talk?\" he\ncontinued. \"What did you come down here for? To pass the time of day?\"\n\n'\"Very well,\" said Jim, lifting his head suddenly after a long silence.\n\"You shall have a clear road or else a clear fight.\" He turned on his\nheel and walked away.\n\n'Brown got up at once, but he did not go up the","assured me more\nthan once that he had never found himself the worse for her advice. At\nany rate, he was proceeding to explain his plan fully to her there and\nthen, when she pressed his arm once, and vanished from his side. Then\nCornelius appeared from somewhere, and, perceiving Jim, ducked sideways,\nas though he had been shot at, and afterwards stood very still in the\ndusk. At last he came forward prudently, like a suspicious cat. \"There\nwere some fishermen there--with fish,\" he said in a shaky voice.","suddenly the chief engineer rushed again at Jim.\n\n'\"Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw your only chance away? Come\nand help, man! Man! Look there--look!\"\n\n'And at last Jim looked astern where the other pointed with maniacal\ninsistence. He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already\none-third of the sky. You know how these squalls come up there about\nthat time of the year. First you see a darkening of the horizon--no\nmore; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall. A straight","nothing. When Brown's long-boat glided out of the creek into the\nriver, Jim was standing on the low point of land before the Rajah's\nstockade--on the very spot where for the first time he put his foot on\nPatusan shore. A shadow loomed up, moving in the greyness, solitary,\nvery bulky, and yet constantly eluding the eye. A murmur of low talking\ncame out of it. Brown at the tiller heard Jim speak calmly: \"A clear\nroad. You had better trust to the current while","ended, wonderful in their\ndistinct and immaterial clearness. Jim sat on the trunk of a felled\ntree, and pulling out his pipe began to smoke. A new growth of grass and\nbushes was springing up; there were traces of an earthwork under a mass\nof thorny twigs. \"It all started from here,\" he said, after a long and\nmeditative silence. On the other hill, two hundred yards across a sombre\nprecipice, I saw a line of high blackened stakes, showing here and there\nruinously--the remnants of","point outside the wall of\nstakes, and Tamb' Itam placed a little folding-stool for his master. Jim\ntold him to try and sleep. Tamb' Itam got a mat and lay down a little\nway off; but he could not sleep, though he knew he had to go on an\nimportant journey before the night was out. His master walked to and fro\nbefore the fire with bowed head and with his hands behind his back. His\nface was sad. Whenever his master approached him Tamb' Itam pretended to\nsleep, not wishing his master to know he had","worn and clouded,\nbut with quiet eyes that glanced straight, interested and clear. Jim\nanswered another question and was tempted to cry out, 'What's the good\nof this! what's the good!' He tapped with his foot slightly, bit his\nlip, and looked away over the heads. He met the eyes of the white man.\nThe glance directed at him was not the fascinated stare of the others.\nIt was an act of intelligent volition. Jim between two questions forgot\nhimself so far as to find leisure for a thought. This fellow--ran"],["good wages and as much humouring\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\n\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\nwas","out there\" where he did not think himself good enough to live.\nThis was all that came to him--a menace, a shock, a danger to his\nwork. I suppose it is this sad, half-resentful, half-resigned feeling,\npiercing through the few words Jim said now and then, that puzzled Brown\nso much in the reading of his character. Some great men owe most of\ntheir greatness to the ability of detecting in those they destine for\ntheir tools the exact quality of strength that matters for their work;\nand Brown, as though he","count. Each blade of grass has its spot on earth\nwhence it draws its life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land\nfrom which he draws his faith together with his life. I don't know\nhow much Jim understood; but I know he felt, he felt confusedly but\npowerfully, the demand of some such truth or some such illusion--I don't\ncare how you call it, there is so little difference, and the difference\nmeans so little. The thing is that in virtue of his feeling he mattered.\nHe would never go home now. Not","\nstood still, and when Jim passed me on his way to the gate, I caught at\nhis arm and detained him. The look he gave discomposed me, as though I\nhad been responsible for his state he looked at me as if I had been the\nembodied evil of life. \"It's all over,\" I stammered. \"Yes,\" he said\nthickly. \"And now let no man . . .\" He jerked his arm out of my grasp. I\nwatched his back as he went away. It was a long street, and he remained\nin sight","imagined he was hopeless.\nThen it was that our glances met. They met, and the look he gave me was\ndiscouraging of any intention I might have had to speak to him. Upon\neither hypothesis--insolence or despair--I felt I could be of no use to\nhim. This was the second day of the proceedings. Very soon after that\nexchange of glances the inquiry was adjourned again to the next day. The\nwhite men began to troop out at once. Jim had been told to stand down\nsome time before, and was able to leave amongst","skippers to take it there) did\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cornelius within an\ninch of his life; on the other hand, the scenes were of so painful\na character, so abominable, that his impulse would be to get out of\nearshot, in order to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,\nspeechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a stony,\ndesperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and say","the tails of his coat blown hard against his legs.\n\n'I sat down again alone and discouraged--discouraged about Jim's case.\nIf you wonder that after more than three years it had preserved its\nactuality, you must know that I had seen him only very lately. I had\ncome straight from Samarang, where I had loaded a cargo for Sydney: an\nutterly uninteresting bit of business,--what Charley here would call one\nof my rational transactions,--and in Samarang I had seen something\nof Jim. He was then working for De","of his extreme peril\ndawned upon him. He dropped the thing--he says--\"like a hot potato,\"\nand walked out hastily, without the slightest idea of what he would,\nor indeed could, do. He only knew that the position was intolerable. He\nstrolled aimlessly beyond a sort of ramshackle little granary on posts,\nand his eyes fell on the broken stakes of the palisade; and then--he\nsays--at once, without any mental process as it were, without any stir\nof emotion, he set about his","\nsay, \"It's all very well for you beggars to laugh, but my immortal soul\nwas shrivelled down to the size of a parched pea after a week of that\nwork.\" I don't know how Jim's soul accommodated itself to the new\nconditions of his life--I was kept too busy in getting him something to\ndo that would keep body and soul together--but I am pretty certain his\nadventurous fancy was suffering all the pangs of starvation. It had\ncertainly nothing to feed upon in this new calling. It was","Charley here would call one\nof my rational transactions,--and in Samarang I had seen something\nof Jim. He was then working for De Jongh, on my recommendation.\nWater-clerk. \"My representative afloat,\" as De Jongh called him. You\ncan't imagine a mode of life more barren of consolation, less capable of\nbeing invested with a spark of glamour--unless it be the business of an\ninsurance canvasser. Little Bob Stanton--Charley here knew him well--had\ngone through that experience. The same who","quickly, \"You were to be set\nupon while you slept.\" Jim tells me he experienced a sense of deception.\nIt was the old story. He was weary of these attempts upon his life. He\nhad had his fill of these alarms. He was sick of them. He assured me he\nwas angry with the girl for deceiving him. He had followed her under the\nimpression that it was she who wanted his help, and now he had half\na mind to turn on his heel and go back in disgust. \"Do you know,\" he\ncommented profoundly, \"I","said Tamb' Itam, after hesitating a moment.\n\n'Then Jim understood. He had retreated from one world, for a small\nmatter of an impulsive jump, and now the other, the work of his own\nhands, had fallen in ruins upon his head. It was not safe for his\nservant to go out amongst his own people! I believe that in that very\nmoment he had decided to defy the disaster in the only way it occurred\nto him such a disaster could be defied; but all I know is that, without\na word, he came out","p me? It's all very fine for you--you\nget a power of pieces out of her one way and another; but what about\nme--what do I get? A measly hundred and fifty dollars a month and\nfind yourself. I wish to ask you respectfully--respectfully, mind--who\nwouldn't chuck a dratted job like this? 'Tain't safe, s'elp me, it\nain't! Only I am one of them fearless fellows . . .'\n\nHe let go the rail and made ample gestures as if","er of the Patna had turned up in a more or less destitute state,\nand got a temporary job of looking after the machinery of the mill. \"I\ncouldn't stand the familiarity of the little beast,\" Jim wrote from a\nseaport seven hundred miles south of the place where he should have been\nin clover. \"I am now for the time with Egstrom & Blake, ship-chandlers,\nas their--well--runner, to call the thing by its right name. For\nreference I gave them your name, which they know of course, and if you",", one\ndidn't care who else went--three, thirty, three hundred people\"--it was\nas if a demon had been whispering advice in his ear. \"I made him wince,\"\nboasted Brown to me. \"He very soon left off coming the righteous over\nme. He just stood there with nothing to say, and looking as black as\nthunder--not at me--on the ground.\" He asked Jim whether he had nothing\nfishy in his life to remember that he was so damnedly hard upon a man\ntrying to get out of a deadly hole by the","It was an act of intelligent volition. Jim between two questions forgot\nhimself so far as to find leisure for a thought. This fellow--ran the\nthought--looks at me as though he could see somebody or something past\nmy shoulder. He had come across that man before--in the street perhaps.\nHe was positive he had never spoken to him. For days, for many days,\nhe had spoken to no one, but had held silent, incoherent, and endless\nconverse with himself, like a prisoner alone in his cell or like a\nwayfarer lost in a wild","His--if I may say so--his caustic placidity,\nand, at the same time, his intelligent sympathy with Jim's aspirations,\nappealed to me. I seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If\nJim took the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In fact, Jim\nthe leader was a captive in every sense. The land, the people, the\nfriendship, the love, were like the jealous guardians of his body.\nEvery day added a link to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt\nconvinced of","asted Jim he puts down the\nsandwich he had in his hand and walks round the table to me; there was\nhis glass of beer poured out quite full. 'I am off,' he says--just like\nthis. 'It isn't half-past one yet,' says I; 'you might snatch a smoke\nfirst.' I thought he meant it was time for him to go down to his work.\nWhen I understood what he was up to, my arms fell--so! Can't get a man\nlike that every day, you know, sir; a regular devil for sailing","loved, enjoyed, or hated; all that is\npriceless and necessary--the sunshine, the memories, the future; which\nmeans to sweep the whole precious world utterly away from his sight by\nthe simple and appalling act of taking his life.\n\nJim, disabled by a falling spar at the beginning of a week of which his\nScottish captain used to say afterwards, 'Man! it's a pairfect meeracle\nto me how she lived through it!' spent many days stretched on his back,\ndazed, battered, hopeless, and tormented as","next sentence escaped me somehow, and\nthen . . . \"abandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property\nconfided to their charge\" . . . went on the voice evenly, and stopped. A\npair of eyes under the white forehead shot darkly a glance above the\nedge of the paper. I looked for Jim hurriedly, as though I had expected\nhim to disappear. He was very still--but he was there. He sat pink and\nfair and extremely attentive. \"Therefore, . . .\" began the voice\nemphatically. He stared with parted lips,"],["That man there seemed to be aware of his\nhopeless difficulty. Jim looked at him, then turned away resolutely, as\nafter a final parting.\n\nAnd later on, many times, in distant parts of the world, Marlow showed\nhimself willing to remember Jim, to remember him at length, in detail\nand audibly.\n\nPerhaps it would be after dinner, on a verandah draped in motionless\nfoliage and crowned with flowers, in the deep dusk speckled by fiery\ncigar-ends. The elongated bulk of each","\ndrooping on each side of his thick, dark lips, came forward smirking. He\nturned out, notwithstanding his self-satisfied and cheery exterior, to\nbe of a careworn temperament. In answer to a remark of mine (while Jim\nhad gone below for a moment) he said, \"Oh yes. Patusan.\" He was going to\ncarry the gentleman to the mouth of the river, but would \"never ascend.\"\nHis flowing English seemed to be derived from a dictionary compiled by\na lunatic. Had Mr. Stein desired him to \"","as an astronomer, I should fancy, would strongly object to being\ntransported into a distant heavenly body, where, parted from his earthly\nemoluments, he would be bewildered by the view of an unfamiliar heavens.\nHowever, neither heavenly bodies nor astronomers have anything to do\nwith Patusan. It was Jim who went there. I only meant you to understand\nthat had Stein arranged to send him into a star of the fifth magnitude\nthe change could not have been greater. He left his earthly failings\nbehind him and what sort of reputation he had","would naturally\nfind his way to Stein's house. I returned his greeting and passed on. At\nthe door of Stein's room I came upon another Malay in whom I recognised\nTamb' Itam.\n\n'I asked him at once what he was doing there; it occurred to me that\nJim might have come on a visit. I own I was pleased and excited at the\nthought. Tamb' Itam looked as if he did not know what to say. \"Is Tuan\nJim inside?\" I asked impatiently. \"No,\" he mumbled, hanging his","in some commercial house in\nthe Dutch colonies. I gathered from Stein that this man was an\nunsatisfactory person in more ways than one, all being more or less\nindefinite and offensive. It was solely for his wife's sake that Stein\nhad appointed him manager of Stein & Co.'s trading post in Patusan;\nbut commercially the arrangement was not a success, at any rate for\nthe firm, and now the woman had died, Stein was disposed to try another\nagent there. The Portuguese, whose name was Cornelius, considered\nhimself a very des","\non Stein's verandah, and who was amongst them, told me that the boat,\nshaving the low point close, seemed for a moment to grow big and hang\nover it like a mountain. \"If you think it worth your while to wait a\nday outside,\" called out Jim, \"I'll try to send you down something--a\nbullock, some yams--what I can.\" The shadow went on moving. \"Yes. Do,\"\nsaid a voice, blank and muffled out of the fog. Not one of the many\nattentive listeners understood what the",".\nStein had been the means of saving that chap's life on some occasion;\npurely by accident, Mr. Stein had said, but he--Jim--had his own opinion\nabout that. Mr. Stein was just the man to look out for such accidents.\nNo matter. Accident or purpose, this would serve his turn immensely.\nHoped to goodness the jolly old beggar had not gone off the hooks\nmeantime. Mr. Stein could not tell. There had been no news for more\nthan a year; they were kicking up no end of an all","My dear Marlow,\" he said, \"I feel\nthat if I go straight nothing can touch me. Indeed I do. Now you have\nbeen long enough here to have a good look round--and, frankly, don't\nyou think I am pretty safe? It all depends upon me, and, by Jove! I have\nlots of confidence in myself. The worst thing he could do would be to\nkill me, I suppose. I don't think for a moment he would. He couldn't,\nyou know--not if I were myself to hand him a loaded rifle for","meant many things) was a much-disappointed man. I\ndon't know what he had expected would be done for him in consideration\nof his marriage; but evidently the liberty to steal, and embezzle, and\nappropriate to himself for many years and in any way that suited him\nbest, the goods of Stein's Trading Company (Stein kept the supply up\nunfalteringly as long as he could get his skippers to take it there) did\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly","the impossible. Yet one could not be sure\neven of that. There and then, before his boat was three oars' lengths\naway from the quay, I had made up my mind to go and consult Stein in the\nevening.\n\n'This Stein was a wealthy and respected merchant. His \"house\" (because\nit was a house, Stein & Co., and there was some sort of partner who,\nas Stein said, \"looked after the Moluccas\") had a large inter-island\nbusiness, with a lot of trading posts established in the most\nout-of-the","iness. She left the room, and\nhe followed her; in the passage they disturbed an old hag who did the\ncasual cooking of the household, though she was so decrepit as to be\nhardly able to understand human speech. She got up and hobbled behind\nthem, mumbling toothlessly. On the verandah a hammock of sail-cloth,\nbelonging to Cornelius, swayed lightly to the touch of Jim's elbow. It\nwas empty.\n\n'The Patusan establishment, like all the posts of Stein's Tr","36\n\n\nWith these words Marlow had ended his narrative, and his audience had\nbroken up forthwith, under his abstract, pensive gaze. Men drifted off\nthe verandah in pairs or alone without loss of time, without offering\na remark, as if the last image of that incomplete story, its\nincompleteness itself, and the very tone of the speaker, had made\ndiscussion in vain and comment impossible. Each of them seemed to carry\naway his own impression, to carry it away with him like a secret; but\nthere was only one man of all","descent, with\nturned-out, shiny lips. I found him lying extended on his back in a cane\nchair, odiously unbuttoned, with a large green leaf of some sort on the\ntop of his steaming head, and another in his hand which he used lazily\nas a fan . . . Going to Patusan? Oh yes. Stein's Trading Company. He\nknew. Had a permission? No business of his. It was not so bad there now,\nhe remarked negligently, and, he went on drawling, \"There's some sort","back to what?\" he asked absently, with his eyes fixed upon the\nface of a clock on the wall.\n\n'I was silent for a while. \"Is it to be never, then?\" I said. \"Never,\"\nhe repeated dreamily without looking at me, and then flew into sudden\nactivity. \"Jove! Two o'clock, and I sail at four!\"\n\n'It was true. A brigantine of Stein's was leaving for the westward that\nafternoon, and he had been instructed to take his passage in her, only\nno orders to delay the sail","within the house, a faint exclamation, and a child-like but\nenergetic little face with delicate features and a profound, attentive\nglance peeped out of the inner gloom, like a bird out of the recess of a\nnest. I was struck by the name, of course; but it was not till later\non that I connected it with an astonishing rumour that had met me on my\njourney, at a little place on the coast about 230 miles south of Patusan\nRiver. Stein's schooner, in which","woman had died, Stein was disposed to try another\nagent there. The Portuguese, whose name was Cornelius, considered\nhimself a very deserving but ill-used person, entitled by his abilities\nto a better position. This man Jim would have to relieve. \"But I don't\nthink he will go away from the place,\" remarked Stein. \"That has nothing\nto do with me. It was only for the sake of the woman that I . . . But as\nI think there is a daughter left, I shall let him, if he likes to stay,\nkeep the old","was Cornelius who hated him.\n\n'Yet after all this was a kind of recognition. You shall judge of a man\nby his foes as well as by his friends, and this enemy of Jim was such as\nno decent man would be ashamed to own, without, however, making too\nmuch of him. This was the view Jim took, and in which I shared; but Jim\ndisregarded him on general grounds. \"My dear Marlow,\" he said, \"I feel\nthat if I go straight nothing can touch me. Indeed I do. Now you have\nbeen","to come in the evening to talk\ninterminably over their war reminiscences and to discuss State affairs.\nJim had pointed him out to me once as a respectable petty trader owning\na small seagoing native craft, who had showed himself \"one of the best\nat the taking of the stockade.\" I was not very surprised to see him,\nsince any Patusan trader venturing as far as Samarang would naturally\nfind his way to Stein's house. I returned his greeting and passed on. At\nthe door of Stein's room I came","how he ascended the Patusan\nriver. Nothing could have been more prosaic and more unsafe, more\nextravagantly casual, more lonely. Strange, this fatality that would\ncast the complexion of a flight upon all his acts, of impulsive\nunreflecting desertion of a jump into the unknown.\n\n'It is precisely the casualness of it that strikes me most. Neither\nStein nor I had a clear conception of what might be on the other side\nwhen we, metaphorically speaking, took him up and hove him over the\nwall with","voice was very droll, pretty,\nand childlike. It delighted Jim greatly. This was the last occasion on\nwhich I heard them exchange this familiar hail, and it struck a chill\ninto my heart. There was the high sweet voice, the pretty effort, the\nswagger; but it all seemed to die out prematurely, and the playful call\nsounded like a moan. It was too confoundedly awful. \"What have you done\nwith Marlow?\" Jim was asking; and then, \"Gone down--has he? Funny I\ndidn't meet him"],["\nThen I am sure she understood much--not everything--the fear mostly, it\nseems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in the sense of a\nprecious gem--jewel. Pretty, isn't it? But he was capable of anything.\nHe was equal to his fortune, as he--after all--must have been equal to\nhis misfortune. Jewel he called her; and he would say this as he might\nhave said \"Jane,\" don't you know--with a marital, homelike, peaceful\neffect. I heard the name","ended by their women-folk. The women\nand children from the lower part of the town had been sent into the\nfort at the first alarm. There Jewel was in command, very efficient and\nhigh-spirited, obeyed by Jim's \"own people,\" who, quitting in a body\ntheir little settlement under the stockade, had gone in to form the\ngarrison. The refugees crowded round her; and through the whole affair,\nto the very disastrous last, she showed an extraordinary martial ardour.\nIt was to her that Dain Waris had gone","he might\nhave said \"Jane,\" don't you know--with a marital, homelike, peaceful\neffect. I heard the name for the first time ten minutes after I had\nlanded in his courtyard, when, after nearly shaking my arm off, he\ndarted up the steps and began to make a joyous, boyish disturbance at\nthe door under the heavy eaves. \"Jewel! O Jewel! Quick! Here's a friend\ncome,\" . . . and suddenly peering at me in the dim verandah, he mumbled\near","but none the\nless true. Who could tell what forms, what visions, what faces, what\nforgiveness he could see in the glow of the west! . . . A small boat,\nleaving the schooner, moved slowly, with a regular beat of two oars,\ntowards the sandbank to take me off. \"And then there's Jewel,\" he said,\nout of the great silence of earth, sky, and sea, which had mastered my\nvery thoughts so that his voice made me start. \"There's Jewel.\" \"Yes,\"\nI",", and sea, which had mastered my\nvery thoughts so that his voice made me start. \"There's Jewel.\" \"Yes,\"\nI murmured. \"I need not tell you what she is to me,\" he pursued.\n\"You've seen. In time she will come to understand . . .\" \"I hope so,\" I\ninterrupted. \"She trusts me, too,\" he mused, and then changed his tone.\n\"When shall we meet next, I wonder?\" he said.\n\n'\"Never--unless you come out,\" I answered, avoiding his glance. He","he asked Jewel to get him something to eat, as he was going out of\nthe fort to take command in the town. On her remonstrating against this\non the score of his fatigue, he said that something might happen for\nwhich he would never forgive himself. \"I am responsible for every life\nin the land,\" he said. He was moody at first; she served him with her\nown hands, taking the plates and dishes (of the dinner-service presented\nhim by Stein) from Tamb' Itam. He brightened up after a while; told her\nshe would be again","by side, openly, he holding her arm under his--pressed to\nhis side--thus--in a most extraordinary way. This might be a lie, he\nconceded, for it was indeed a strange thing for any one to do: on the\nother hand, there could be no doubt she wore the white man's jewel\nconcealed upon her bosom.'\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 29\n\n\n'This was the theory of Jim's marital evening walks. I made a third on\nmore than one occasion, unpleasantly aware every time of Cornelius,","by the old fellow from whom\nI heard most of this amazing Jim-myth--a sort of scribe to the wretched\nlittle Rajah of the place;--such a jewel, he said, cocking his poor\npurblind eyes up at me (he was sitting on the cabin floor out of\nrespect), is best preserved by being concealed about the person of a\nwoman. Yet it is not every woman that would do. She must be young--he\nsighed deeply--and insensible to the seductions of love. He shook his\nhead sceptically. But",", the barrier of forest, the\nsolitude and the turmoil round these two lonely lives, and every word\nspoken between them penetrated with sad meaning. There must have\nbeen confidences, not so much of fact, I suppose, as of innermost\nfeelings--regrets--fears--warnings, no doubt: warnings that the younger\ndid not fully understand till the elder was dead--and Jim came along.\nThen I am sure she understood much--not everything--the fear mostly, it\nseems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in","graph cables and mail-boat\nlines, the haggard utilitarian lies of our civilisation wither and die,\nto be replaced by pure exercises of imagination, that have the futility,\noften the charm, and sometimes the deep hidden truthfulness, of works of\nart? Romance had singled Jim for its own--and that was the true part of\nthe story, which otherwise was all wrong. He did not hide his jewel. In\nfact, he was extremely proud of it.\n\n'It comes to me now that I had, on the whole, seen very little of her","\nplace, I discovered that a story was travelling slowly down the\ncoast about a mysterious white man in Patusan who had got hold of\nan extraordinary gem--namely, an emerald of an enormous size, and\naltogether priceless. The emerald seems to appeal more to the Eastern\nimagination than any other precious stone. The white man had obtained\nit, I was told, partly by the exercise of his wonderful strength and\npartly by cunning, from the ruler of a distant country, whence he had\nfled instantly, arriving in Patusan in utmost distress","firm glance and his ironic friendliness; the girl, absorbed in her\nfrightened, suspicious adoration; Tamb' Itam, surly and faithful;\nCornelius, leaning his forehead against the fence under the moonlight--I\nam certain of them. They exist as if under an enchanter's wand. But the\nfigure round which all these are grouped--that one lives, and I am not\ncertain of him. No magician's wand can immobilise him under my eyes. He\nis one of us.\n\n'Jim, as","! Steal from me everything! Everything!\nEverything!\" His head drooped on one shoulder, his hands were hanging\nbefore him lightly clasped. One would have thought he had cherished\nthe girl with surpassing love, that his spirit had been crushed and his\nheart broken by the most cruel of spoliations. Suddenly he lifted his\nhead and shot out an infamous word. \"Like her mother--she is like her\ndeceitful mother. Exactly. In her face, too. In her face. The devil!\"\nHe leaned his forehead against the fence, and in that position","In\nfact, he was extremely proud of it.\n\n'It comes to me now that I had, on the whole, seen very little of her.\nWhat I remember best is the even, olive pallor of her complexion, and\nthe intense blue-black gleams of her hair, flowing abundantly from under\na small crimson cap she wore far back on her shapely head. Her movements\nwere free, assured, and she blushed a dusky red. While Jim and I were\ntalking, she would come and go with rapid glances at us, leaving on her","interest the work of\nhis--well--good fortune. He was jealously loved, but why she should\nbe jealous, and of what, I could not tell. The land, the people, the\nforests were her accomplices, guarding him with vigilant accord, with\nan air of seclusion, of mystery, of invincible possession. There was\nno appeal, as it were; he was imprisoned within the very freedom of his\npower, and she, though ready to make a footstool of her head for his\nfeet, guarded her conquest inflexibly","advancing with alacrity. He did not know what\nhis master meant, but as soon as Jim made a movement the girl started\ntoo and walked down into the open space. It seems that no one else of\nthe people of the house was in sight. She tottered slightly, and about\nhalf-way down called out to Jim, who had apparently resumed his peaceful\ncontemplation of the river. He turned round, setting his back against\nthe gun. \"Will you fight?\" she cried. \"There is nothing to fight for,\"\nhe said; \"nothing is lost.\" Saying","first who withdraws his\narm or turns his head is a dead man,\" he said. \"March!\" They stepped out\ntogether, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing\nwhite gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light.\nErect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the\nonly sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. \"Stop!\"\ncried Jim.\n\n'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on","His--if I may say so--his caustic placidity,\nand, at the same time, his intelligent sympathy with Jim's aspirations,\nappealed to me. I seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If\nJim took the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In fact, Jim\nthe leader was a captive in every sense. The land, the people, the\nfriendship, the love, were like the jealous guardians of his body.\nEvery day added a link to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt\nconvinced of","flapping on every wall. He\ndid his best to make out that Mr. Stein owed him money on the last three\nyears' trading, but his books were all torn, and some were missing. He\ntried to hint it was his late wife's fault. Disgusting scoundrel! At\nlast I had to forbid him to mention his late wife at all. It made Jewel\ncry. I couldn't discover what became of all the trade-goods; there was\nnothing in the store but rats, having a high old time amongst a litter\n","able\negotism of the man which made him, when resisted and foiled in his will,\nmad with the indignant and revengeful rage of a thwarted autocrat.\nBut if Jim did not mistrust Brown, he was evidently anxious that some\nmisunderstanding should not occur, ending perhaps in collision and\nbloodshed. It was for this reason that directly the Malay chiefs had\ngone he asked Jewel to get him something to eat, as he was going out of\nthe fort to take command in the town. On her remonstr"],["\nthe defences, hesitating, stopping to listen in a peering posture. \"Come\nalong! You are safe,\" yelled Brown, while his men stared. All their\nhopes of life became suddenly centered in that dilapidated, mean\nnewcomer, who in profound silence clambered clumsily over a felled\ntree-trunk, and shivering, with his sour, mistrustful face, looked about\nat the knot of bearded, anxious, sleepless desperadoes.\n\n'Half an hour's confidential talk with Cornelius","him to me. \"Yes, certainly,\" he pursued with\nardour, \"and then, captain, you tell that tall man with a gun to shoot\nhim. Just you kill him, and you will frighten everybody so much that\nyou can do anything you like with them afterwards--get what you like--go\naway when you like. Ha! ha! ha! Fine . . .\" He almost danced with\nimpatience and eagerness; and Brown, looking over his shoulder at him,\ncould see, shown up by the pitiless dawn, his men drenched with dew","'ll kill me, but I shall die easy now. You . . . you\nhere . . . I don't know your name--I would give you a five-pound note\nif--if I had it--for the news--or my name's not Brown. . . .\" He grinned\nhorribly. . . . \"Gentleman Brown.\"\n\n'He said all these things in profound gasps, staring at me with his\nyellow eyes out of a long, ravaged, brown face; he jerked his left arm;\na pepper-and-salt m","ore with their boats\nhauled up.\" \"Oh, we know how to be as quiet as mice; never fear,\" said\nBrown. Cornelius stipulated that in case he were to pilot Brown out, his\ncanoe should be towed. \"I'll have to get back quick,\" he explained.\n\n'It was two hours before the dawn when word was passed to the stockade\nfrom outlying watchers that the white robbers were coming down to their\nboat. In a very short time every armed man from one end of Patusan\nto the other","opinions of the chief men of the town, who elected\nto assemble in Jim's fort for deliberation upon the emergency, as if\nexpecting to find wisdom and courage in the dwelling of the absent white\nman. The shooting of Brown's ruffians was so far good, or lucky, that\nthere had been half-a-dozen casualties amongst the defenders. The\nwounded were lying on the verandah tended by their women-folk. The women\nand children from the lower part of the town had been sent into the\nfort at the first alarm. There","pretended a great reluctance. The voice declared itself\n\"a white man--a poor, ruined, old man who had been living here for\nyears.\" A mist, wet and chilly, lay on the slopes of the hill, and after\nsome more shouting from one to the other, Brown called out, \"Come on,\nthen, but alone, mind!\" As a matter of fact--he told me, writhing with\nrage at the recollection of his helplessness--it made no difference.\nThey couldn't see more than a few yards before them, and no treach",", fuddled vagabond--a\nwhite man living amongst the natives with a Siamese woman--had\nconsidered it a great privilege to give a shelter to the last days of\nthe famous Gentleman Brown. While he was talking to me in the wretched\nhovel, and, as it were, fighting for every minute of his life, the\nSiamese woman, with big bare legs and a stupid coarse face, sat in a\ndark corner chewing betel stolidly. Now and then she would get up for\nthe purpose of shooing a","laughter is unseemly.\nAre they not cruel, bloodthirsty robbers bent on killing?\" \"Let her be,\"\nsaid Jim, and as a silence fell suddenly, he said slowly, \"Everybody\nshall be safe.\" He entered the house before the great sigh, and the loud\nmurmurs of satisfaction, had died out.\n\n'There's no doubt his mind was made up that Brown should have his way\nclear back to the sea. His fate, revolted, was forcing his hand. He\nhad for the first time to affirm his will in the face of","\"A good thing to know, too,\"\nsaid Brown, pricking up his ears; and Cornelius began to talk of\nwhat went on in town and repeated all that had been said in council,\ngossiping in an even undertone at Brown's ear as you talk amongst\nsleeping men you do not wish to wake. \"He thinks he has made me\nharmless, does he?\" mumbled Brown very low. . . . \"Yes. He is a fool. A\nlittle child. He came here and robbed me,\" droned on Cornelius, \"and","fights, of the sudden\noutbreaks that would fill this or that part of the settlement with\nsmoke, flame, the noise of shots and shrieks. Villages were burnt, men\nwere dragged into the Rajah's stockade to be killed or tortured for the\ncrime of trading with anybody else but himself. Only a day or two before\nJim's arrival several heads of households in the very fishing village\nthat was afterwards taken under his especial protection had been driven\nover the cliffs by a party of the Rajah's spearmen, on suspicion of\nh","all--men,\nwomen, savages, traders, ruffians, missionaries--and Jim--\"that\nbeefy-faced beggar.\" I did not begrudge him this triumph in articulo\nmortis, this almost posthumous illusion of having trampled all the earth\nunder his feet. While he was boasting to me, in his sordid and repulsive\nagony, I couldn't help thinking of the chuckling talk relating to the\ntime of his greatest splendour when, during a year or more, Gentleman\nBrown's","of earshot and almost out of sight, were\nstraining their eyes towards the knoll beyond the Rajah's stockade.\nWithin the wide irregular ring of forests, broken in two places by the\nsheen of the river, there was a silence. \"Will you promise to leave the\ncoast?\" Jim asked. Brown lifted and let fall his hand, giving everything\nup as it were--accepting the inevitable. \"And surrender your arms?\" Jim\nwent on. Brown sat up and glared across. \"Surrender our arms! Not till\nyou come to take them out of","\nout into the deserted opening of the street between the shut-up, dark,\nlifeless buildings at the end. Perhaps one of the inhabitants, who had\nfled to the other bank of the river, coming back for some object of\ndomestic use. Evidently he supposed himself quite safe at that distance\nfrom the hill on the other side of the creek. A light stockade, set up\nhastily, was just round the turn of the street, full of his friends.\nHe moved leisurely. Brown saw him, and instantly called to his side the\nYankee","after that\nscream a great yell of amazement and fear went up from all the throats.\nA blind panic drove these men in a surging swaying mob to and fro along\nthe shore like a herd of cattle afraid of the water. Some few jumped\ninto the river then, but most of them did so only after the last\ndischarge. Three times Brown's men fired into the ruck, Brown, the only\none in view, cursing and yelling, \"Aim low! aim low!\"\n\n'Tamb' Itam says that, as for him, he","They lay down and snored, protected from the burning\nsunshine; but Brown, sitting fully exposed on one of the felled trees,\nfeasted his eyes upon the view of the town and the river. There was much\nloot there. Cornelius, who had made himself at home in the camp, talked\nat his elbow, pointing out the localities, imparting advice, giving his\nown version of Jim's character, and commenting in his own fashion upon\nthe events of the last three years. Brown, who, apparently indifferent\nand gazing away, listened with attention to","the white robbers were coming down to their\nboat. In a very short time every armed man from one end of Patusan\nto the other was on the alert, yet the banks of the river remained so\nsilent that but for the fires burning with sudden blurred flares the\ntown might have been asleep as if in peace-time. A heavy mist lay very\nlow on the water, making a sort of illusive grey light that showed\nnothing. When Brown's long-boat glided out of the creek into the\nriver, Jim was standing on the low point of land before","Suppose they say one\nthing to you, and do the other thing to me.\" He calmed down markedly. \"I\ndare say you have the power, or what's the meaning of all this talk?\" he\ncontinued. \"What did you come down here for? To pass the time of day?\"\n\n'\"Very well,\" said Jim, lifting his head suddenly after a long silence.\n\"You shall have a clear road or else a clear fight.\" He turned on his\nheel and walked away.\n\n'Brown got up at once, but he did not go up the","men could have any knowledge of the narrow channel at the back\nof the island. When he judged the moment come, Brown yelled, \"Let them\nhave it,\" and fourteen shots rang out like one.\n\n'Tamb' Itam told me the surprise was so great that, except for those who\nfell dead or wounded, not a soul of them moved for quite an appreciable\ntime after the first discharge. Then a man screamed, and after that\nscream a great yell of amazement and fear went up from all the throats.\nA blind panic drove these men in a sur","day to day. Besides, he was not averse to begin fighting on that\nRajah's account, and teach a lesson to those people who had received him\nwith shots. The lust of battle was upon him.\n\n'I am sorry that I can't give you this part of the story, which of\ncourse I have mainly from Brown, in Brown's own words. There was in the\nbroken, violent speech of that man, unveiling before me his thoughts\nwith the very hand of Death upon his throat, an undisguised ruthlessness\nof purpose, a","keep starvation\noff for ten days. The tide and wind helped, and early one afternoon the\nbig white boat under a ragged sail shouldered its way before the sea\nbreeze into Patusan Reach, manned by fourteen assorted scarecrows\nglaring hungrily ahead, and fingering the breech-blocks of cheap rifles.\nBrown calculated upon the terrifying surprise of his appearance. They\nsailed in with the last of the flood; the Rajah's stockade gave no sign;\nthe first houses on both sides of the stream seemed deserted"],["ued with him feebly. Some of the Bugis settlers, weary with\nendless insecurity, were half inclined to call him in. The younger\nspirits amongst them, chaffing, advised to \"get Sherif Ali with his wild\nmen and drive the Rajah Allang out of the country.\" Doramin restrained\nthem with difficulty. He was growing old, and, though his influence had\nnot diminished, the situation was getting beyond him. This was the state\nof affairs when Jim, bolting from the Rajah's stockade, appeared before\nthe chief of","white men, walking slowly\ntowards the stockade in the street. Everybody was rejoiced to see him\nreturn, for while he was away every man had been afraid not only of him\nbeing killed, but also of what would come after. Jim went into one of\nthe houses, where old Doramin had retired, and remained alone for a\nlong time with the head of the Bugis settlers. No doubt he discussed\nthe course to follow with him then, but no man was present at the\nconversation. Only Tamb' Itam, keeping as close to the door as he could,\n","ance, or to repulse a threatened invasion? Many\ndays elapsed before the people had ceased to look out, quaking, for\nthe return of the white men with long beards and in rags, whose exact\nrelation to their own white man they could never understand. Even for\nthose simple minds poor Jim remains under a cloud.\n\n'Doramin, alone! immense and desolate, sat in his arm-chair with the\npair of flintlock pistols on his knees, faced by a armed throng. When\nJim appeared, at somebody's exclamation,","was getting beyond him. This was the state\nof affairs when Jim, bolting from the Rajah's stockade, appeared before\nthe chief of the Bugis, produced the ring, and was received, in a manner\nof speaking, into the heart of the community.'\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 26\n\n\n'Doramin was one of the most remarkable men of his race I had ever seen.\nHis bulk for a Malay was immense, but he did not look merely fat; he\nlooked imposing, monumental. This motionless body, clad in rich stuffs","atusan, wandering abandoned,\nstripped, without opium, without his women, without followers, a fair\ngame for the first comer to kill. After Sherif Ali his turn would come,\nand who could resist an attack led by such a devil? And indeed he owed\nhis life and such authority as he still possessed at the time of my\nvisit to Jim's idea of what was fair alone. The Bugis had been extremely\nanxious to pay off old scores, and the impassive old Doramin cherished\nthe hope of yet seeing his son ruler of Patus","where he\nwould be most hated he was still trusted. Jim--as far as I could follow\nthe conversation--was improving the occasion by the delivery of a\nlecture. Some poor villagers had been waylaid and robbed while on their\nway to Doramin's house with a few pieces of gum or beeswax which they\nwished to exchange for rice. \"It was Doramin who was a thief,\" burst\nout the Rajah. A shaking fury seemed to enter that old frail body.\nHe writhed weirdly on his mat, gesticulating","up slowly, looked at his dead friend, lifting the sheet, than dropped it\nwithout a word. Slowly he walked back.\n\n'\"He came! He came!\" was running from lip to lip, making a murmur to\nwhich he moved. \"He hath taken it upon his own head,\" a voice said\naloud. He heard this and turned to the crowd. \"Yes. Upon my head.\" A few\npeople recoiled. Jim waited awhile before Doramin, and then said gently,\n\"I am come in sorrow.\" He waited again. \"I am come ready and un","complete. Doramin, waiting immovably in\nhis chair on the hillside, with the smoke of the guns spreading slowly\nabove his big head, received the news with a deep grunt. When informed\nthat his son was safe and leading the pursuit, he, without another\nsound, made a mighty effort to rise; his attendants hurried to his help,\nand, held up reverently, he shuffled with great dignity into a bit of\nshade, where he laid himself down to sleep, covered entirely with a\npiece of white sheeting. In Patusan the excitement was intense.","'Kassim disliked Doramin and his Bugis very much, but he hated the new\norder of things still more. It had occurred to him that these whites,\ntogether with the Rajah's followers, could attack and defeat the\nBugis before Jim's return. Then, he reasoned, general defection of\nthe townsfolk was sure to follow, and the reign of the white man who\nprotected poor people would be over. Afterwards the new allies could be\ndealt with. They would have no friends. The fellow was perfectly able to\nperceive the difference","night. \"I\nsuppose you will come back to my poor house,\" he muttered, surlily,\nslinking up just as Jim was entering the canoe to go over to Doramin's\ncampong. Jim only nodded, without looking at him. \"You find it good fun,\nno doubt,\" muttered the other in a sour tone. Jim spent the day with the\nold nakhoda, preaching the necessity of vigorous action to the principal\nmen of the Bugis community, who had been summoned for a big talk. He\nremembered with pleasure how very eloqu","methodical ferocity of his fighting. The storming party had come on so\nquick--Jim said--that notwithstanding the panic of the garrison, there\nwas a \"hot five minutes hand-to-hand inside that stockade, till some\nbally ass set fire to the shelters of boughs and dry grass, and we all\nhad to clear out for dear life.\"\n\n'The rout, it seems, had been complete. Doramin, waiting immovably in\nhis chair on the hillside, with the smoke of the guns spreading slowly\nabove his big head",".\"'\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 43\n\n\n'Tamb' Itam behind his chair was thunderstruck. The declaration produced\nan immense sensation. \"Let them go because this is best in my knowledge\nwhich has never deceived you,\" Jim insisted. There was a silence. In\nthe darkness of the courtyard could be heard the subdued whispering,\nshuffling noise of many people. Doramin raised his heavy head and said\nthat there was no more reading of hearts than touching the sky with the\nhand, but--he consented. The others gave their opinion in","ation over a barricade of felled trees (there wasn't\na week without some fight in Patusan at that time), burst through a\nfence into a maize-patch, where a scared boy flung a stick at him,\nblundered upon a path, and ran all at once into the arms of several\nstartled men. He just had breath enough to gasp out, \"Doramin! Doramin!\"\nHe remembers being half-carried, half-rushed to the top of the slope,\nand in a vast enclosure with palms and fruit trees","to\nus and in a little while they go. They go away. Those they leave behind\ndo not know when to look for their return. They go to their own land, to\ntheir people, and so this white man too would. . . . I don't know what\ninduced me to commit myself at this point by a vigorous \"No, no.\" The\nwhole extent of this indiscretion became apparent when Doramin, turning\nfull upon me his face, whose expression, fixed in rugged deep folds,\nremained unalterable, like a huge brown mask,","to say\nthe least of it) in a certain episode which might have ended fatally for\nJim. As a matter of fact, it had redounded to his glory. But everything\nredounded to his glory; and it was the irony of his good fortune that\nhe, who had been too careful of it once, seemed to bear a charmed life.\n\n'You must know he had left Doramin's place very soon after his\narrival--much too soon, in fact, for his safety, and of course a long\ntime before the war. In this he","haps!\n\n'When he came up into the light of torches the wailing of the women\nceased suddenly. Doramin did not lift his head, and Jim stood silent\nbefore him for a time. Then he looked to the left, and moved in that\ndirection with measured steps. Dain Waris's mother crouched at the head\nof the body, and the grey dishevelled hair concealed her face. Jim came\nup slowly, looked at his dead friend, lifting the sheet, than dropped it\nwithout a word. Slowly he walked back.\n\n'\"He came","'s return.\nJim had been away in the interior for more than a week, and it was Dain\nWaris who had directed the first repulse. That brave and intelligent\nyouth (\"who knew how to fight after the manner of white men\") wished to\nsettle the business off-hand, but his people were too much for him.\nHe had not Jim's racial prestige and the reputation of invincible,\nsupernatural power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and","he asked. He believed that it\nwould be best to let these whites and their followers go with their\nlives. It would be a small gift. \"I whom you have tried and found always\ntrue ask you to let them go.\" He turned to Doramin. The old nakhoda made\nno movement. \"Then,\" said Jim, \"call in Dain Waris, your son, my friend,\nfor in this business I shall not lead.\"'\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 43\n\n\n'Tamb' Itam behind his chair was thunderstruck. The declaration produced\n","also that I have no thought but for the\npeople's good.\" Then his master, lifting the sheeting in the doorway,\nwent out, and he, Tamb' Itam, had a glimpse of old Doramin within,\nsitting in the chair with his hands on his knees, and looking between\nhis feet. Afterwards he followed his master to the fort, where all the\nprincipal Bugis and Patusan inhabitants had been summoned for a talk.\nTamb' Itam himself hoped there would be some fighting. \"What was it but\nthe taking of another hill?\" he excl","anxious to pay off old scores, and the impassive old Doramin cherished\nthe hope of yet seeing his son ruler of Patusan. During one of our\ninterviews he deliberately allowed me to get a glimpse of this secret\nambition. Nothing could be finer in its way than the dignified wariness\nof his approaches. He himself--he began by declaring--had used his\nstrength in his young days, but now he had grown old and tired. . . .\nWith his imposing bulk and haughty little eyes darting sagacious,\ninquis"],["Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war--in a corner?\nand the fellow had been killed cleanly, shot through the chest, not like\nthat poor devil of his lying now in the creek. They had to listen to him\ndying for six hours, with his entrails torn with slugs. At any rate this\nwas a life for a life. . . . And all this was said with the weariness,\nwith the recklessness of a man spurred on and","ably, \"do you expose me to\nsuch a stupid risk?\" I drank, of course, there was nothing for it, while\nhe gave no sign, and almost immediately afterwards we took our leave.\nWhile we were going down the courtyard to our boat, escorted by the\nintelligent and cheery executioner, Jim said he was very sorry. It was\nthe barest chance, of course. Personally he thought nothing of poison.\nThe remotest chance. He was--he assured me--considered to be infinitely\nmore useful than dangerous, and so . . . \"But",". . . However,\nthis is not the place, nor the time, and we are concerned with Jim--who\nwas unmarried. If his imaginative conscience or his pride; if all the\nextravagant ghosts and austere shades that were the disastrous familiars\nof his youth would not let him run away from the block, I, who of course\ncan't be suspected of such familiars, was irresistibly impelled to go\nand see his head roll off. I wended my way towards the court. I didn't\nhope","way giving him the slightest chance of attaining\nhis ends--he argued in a fit of coughing. But he didn't tell Jim this.\nAs to the hardships and starvation they had gone through, these had been\nvery real; it was enough to look at his band. He made, at the sound of a\nshrill whistle, all his men appear standing in a row on the logs in full\nview, so that Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war","round the neck\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\nfriend through the chest.\n\n'The crowd, which had fallen apart behind Jim as soon as Doramin had\nraised his hand, rushed tumultuously forward after the shot. They say\nthat the white man sent right and left at all those faces a proud and\nunflinching glance. Then with his hand over his lips he fell forward,\ndead.\n\n'And that's the end. He passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart,\nforgotten","and looking up, with a toss of his head, said quickly,\n\"You hear, my people! No more of these little games.\" This decree\nwas received in profound silence. A rather heavy man, evidently in a\nposition of confidence, with intelligent eyes, a bony, broad, very dark\nface, and a cheerily of officious manner (I learned later on he was the\nexecutioner), presented to us two cups of coffee on a brass tray, which\nhe took from the hands of an inferior attendant. \"You needn't drink,\"\nmuttered Jim very rapidly","'t seem to have any. I know this was Cornelius's view.\nHe confessed that much to me in extenuation of the shady part he had\nplayed in Sherif Ali's plot to do away with the infidel. Even Sherif Ali\nhimself, as it seems certain now, had nothing but contempt for the white\nman. Jim was to be murdered mainly on religious grounds, I believe. A\nsimple act of piety (and so far infinitely meritorious), but otherwise\nwithout much importance. In the last part of this opinion Cornelius\n","iness of his soul, that remains even for\nher who loved him best a cruel and insoluble mystery.\n\n'It is evident that he did not mistrust Brown; there was no reason to\ndoubt the story, whose truth seemed warranted by the rough frankness,\nby a sort of virile sincerity in accepting the morality and the\nconsequences of his acts. But Jim did not know the almost inconceivable\negotism of the man which made him, when resisted and foiled in his will,\nmad with the indignant and revengeful","\nstood still, and when Jim passed me on his way to the gate, I caught at\nhis arm and detained him. The look he gave discomposed me, as though I\nhad been responsible for his state he looked at me as if I had been the\nembodied evil of life. \"It's all over,\" I stammered. \"Yes,\" he said\nthickly. \"And now let no man . . .\" He jerked his arm out of my grasp. I\nwatched his back as he went away. It was a long street, and he remained\nin sight","guilty and done for; nevertheless, I wished to spare\nhim the mere detail of a formal execution. I don't pretend to explain\nthe reasons of my desire--I don't think I could; but if you haven't got\na sort of notion by this time, then I must have been very obscure in\nmy narrative, or you too sleepy to seize upon the sense of my words.\nI don't defend my morality. There was no morality in the impulse which\ninduced me to lay before him Brierly's plan of evasion--I may call","less it had for its object the killing of a donkeyman and the bringing\nof worse than death upon Jim, appeared an utterly aimless piece of\ndevilry. This view occurring to me took off my attention. For a time I\nwas aware of the magistrate's voice as a sound merely; but in a moment\nit shaped itself into distinct words . . . \"in utter disregard of their\nplain duty,\" it said. The next sentence escaped me somehow, and\nthen . . . \"abandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property\nconfided to their charge\"","slipped by long before we parted)--the marble-faced police\nmagistrate, after distributing fines and terms of imprisonment in the\nassault-and-battery case, would take up the awful weapon and smite his\nbowed neck. Our communion in the night was uncommonly like a last vigil\nwith a condemned man. He was guilty too. He was guilty--as I had told\nmyself repeatedly, guilty and done for; nevertheless, I wished to spare\nhim the mere detail of a formal execution. I don't pretend to explain\nthe reasons of","power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and\nadmired as he was, he was still one of _them_, while Jim was one of\nus. Moreover, the white man, a tower of strength in himself, was\ninvulnerable, while Dain Waris could be killed. Those unexpressed\nthoughts guided the opinions of the chief men of the town, who elected\nto assemble in Jim's fort for deliberation upon the emergency, as if\nexpecting","the night. Doramin, struggling to\nkeep his feet, made with his two supporters a swaying, tottering group;\nhis little eyes stared with an expression of mad pain, of rage, with\na ferocious glitter, which the bystanders noticed; and then, while Jim\nstood stiffened and with bared head in the light of torches, looking him\nstraight in the face, he clung heavily with his left arm round the neck\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\nfriend through the chest.\n\n'The crowd","le. The tone of this last \"but\nyou\" (poor Brierly couldn't help it), that seemed to imply I was no\nmore noticeable than an insect, caused me to look at the proposal with\nindignation, and on account of that provocation, or for some other\nreason, I became positive in my mind that the inquiry was a severe\npunishment to that Jim, and that his facing it--practically of his own\nfree will--was a redeeming feature in his abominable case. I hadn't been\nso sure of it before","imagined he was hopeless.\nThen it was that our glances met. They met, and the look he gave me was\ndiscouraging of any intention I might have had to speak to him. Upon\neither hypothesis--insolence or despair--I felt I could be of no use to\nhim. This was the second day of the proceedings. Very soon after that\nexchange of glances the inquiry was adjourned again to the next day. The\nwhite men began to troop out at once. Jim had been told to stand down\nsome time before, and was able to leave amongst","each taking\na little of your substance, each carrying away some crumb of that belief\nin a few simple notions you must cling to if you want to live decently\nand would like to die easy!\n\n'This has nothing to do with Jim, directly; only he was outwardly so\ntypical of that good, stupid kind we like to feel marching right and\nleft of us in life, of the kind that is not disturbed by the vagaries of\nintelligence and the perversions of--of nerves, let us say. He was the\nkind of fellow you would,","fights, of the sudden\noutbreaks that would fill this or that part of the settlement with\nsmoke, flame, the noise of shots and shrieks. Villages were burnt, men\nwere dragged into the Rajah's stockade to be killed or tortured for the\ncrime of trading with anybody else but himself. Only a day or two before\nJim's arrival several heads of households in the very fishing village\nthat was afterwards taken under his especial protection had been driven\nover the cliffs by a party of the Rajah's spearmen, on suspicion of\nh","\nremorse, submissions, revolt. The heaven and the earth must not be\nshaken, I suppose--at least, not by us who know so many truths about\neither. My last words about Jim shall be few. I affirm he had achieved\ngreatness; but the thing would be dwarfed in the telling, or rather in\nthe hearing. Frankly, it is not my words that I mistrust but your minds.\nI could be eloquent were I not afraid you fellows had starved your\nimaginations to feed your bodies. I do not mean","laughter is unseemly.\nAre they not cruel, bloodthirsty robbers bent on killing?\" \"Let her be,\"\nsaid Jim, and as a silence fell suddenly, he said slowly, \"Everybody\nshall be safe.\" He entered the house before the great sigh, and the loud\nmurmurs of satisfaction, had died out.\n\n'There's no doubt his mind was made up that Brown should have his way\nclear back to the sea. His fate, revolted, was forcing his hand. He\nhad for the first time to affirm his will in the face of"],["slowly\naboard, handsome and grave in his white gown and large turban. A string\nof servants followed, loaded with his luggage; the Patna cast off and\nbacked away from the wharf.\n\nShe was headed between two small islets, crossed obliquely the\nanchoring-ground of sailing-ships, swung through half a circle in the\nshadow of a hill, then ranged close to a ledge of foaming reefs. The\nArab, standing up aft, recited aloud the prayer of travellers by sea.\nHe invoked the","ain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna.\n\nThe Patna was a local steamer as old as the hills, lean like a\ngreyhound, and eaten up with rust worse than a condemned water-tank. She\nwas owned by a Chinaman, chartered by an Arab, and commanded by a sort\nof renegade New South Wales German, very anxious to curse publicly\nhis native country, but who, apparently on the strength of Bismarck's",", enveloped in a fulgor\nof sunshine that killed all thought, oppressed the heart, withered all\nimpulses of strength and energy. And under the sinister splendour of\nthat sky the sea, blue and profound, remained still, without a stir,\nwithout a ripple, without a wrinkle--viscous, stagnant, dead. The\nPatna, with a slight hiss, passed over that plain, luminous and smooth,\nunrolled a black ribbon of smoke across the sky, left behind her on the\nwater a white ribbon","he could not make out began to converse\ndrowsily, and also, he could not tell where, he detected a curious\nnoise of shuffling feet. Above these faint sounds there was that awful\nstillness preceding a catastrophe, that trying silence of the moment\nbefore the crash; then it came into his head that perhaps he would have\ntime to rush along and cut all the lanyards of the gripes, so that the\nboats would float as the ship went down.\n\n'The Patna had a long bridge, and all the boats were up there,",", seemed to shed upon the earth the assurance\nof everlasting security. The young moon recurved, and shining low in the\nwest, was like a slender shaving thrown up from a bar of gold, and the\nArabian Sea, smooth and cool to the eye like a sheet of ice, extended\nits perfect level to the perfect circle of a dark horizon. The propeller\nturned without a check, as though its beat had been part of the scheme\nof a safe universe; and on each side of the Patna two deep folds of\nwater, permanent and sombre on the","able he thought himself cut off from them by a space that could\nnot be traversed, by an obstacle that could not be overcome, by a chasm\nwithout bottom. He was as far as he could get from them--the whole\nbreadth of the ship.\n\n'His feet were glued to that remote spot and his eyes to their\nindistinct group bowed together and swaying strangely in the common\ntorment of fear. A hand-lamp lashed to a stanchion above a little table\nrigged up on the bridge--the Patna had no chart-room","against the wall, and looking himself\nas incapable of an emotional display as a sack of meal. There happened\nto be a man-of-war and an Indian Marine steamer in the harbour at the\ntime, and he did not conceal his admiration of the efficient manner in\nwhich the boats of these two ships cleared the Patna of her passengers.\nIndeed his torpid demeanour concealed nothing: it had that mysterious,\nalmost miraculous, power of producing striking effects by means\nimpossible of detection which is the last word of the highest art.\n\"Tw","and ugly as a fact can well be. The whole waterside talked\nof nothing else. First thing in the morning as I was dressing in my\nstate-room, I would hear through the bulkhead my Parsee Dubash jabbering\nabout the Patna with the steward, while he drank a cup of tea,\nby favour, in the pantry. No sooner on shore I would meet some\nacquaintance, and the first remark would be, \"Did you ever hear of\nanything to beat this?\" and according to his kind the man would smile\ncynically, or look","detected the soft spot, the place of decay, the\ndetermination to lounge safely through existence.\n\nTo Jim that gossiping crowd, viewed as seamen, seemed at first more\nunsubstantial than so many shadows. But at length he found a fascination\nin the sight of those men, in their appearance of doing so well on\nsuch a small allowance of danger and toil. In time, beside the original\ndisdain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna","A hand-lamp lashed to a stanchion above a little table\nrigged up on the bridge--the Patna had no chart-room amidships--threw a\nlight on their labouring shoulders, on their arched and bobbing backs.\nThey pushed at the bow of the boat; they pushed out into the night; they\npushed, and would no more look back at him. They had given him up as if\nindeed he had been too far, too hopelessly separated from themselves, to\nbe worth an appealing word, a glance, or a sign. They had no","that don't go anywhere in particular.\"\nI was too concerned at the news to ask for the explanation of that\npronouncement, and he went on. \"He left--let's see--the very day a\nsteamer with returning pilgrims from the Red Sea put in here with\ntwo blades of her propeller gone. Three weeks ago now.\" \"Wasn't there\nsomething said about the Patna case?\" I asked, fearing the worst. He\ngave a start, and looked at me as if I had been a sorcerer. \"Why, yes!","it might have struck the officers of the\nAvondale that there was \"something fishy\" in the affair; but of course\nthey would keep their doubts to themselves. They had picked up the\ncaptain, the mate, and two engineers of the steamer Patna sunk at sea,\nand that, very properly, was enough for them. I did not ask Jim about\nthe nature of his feelings during the ten days he spent on board. From\nthe way he narrated that part I was at liberty to infer he was partly\nstunned by the discovery he had made--the discovery about himself","\n'The authorities were evidently of the same opinion. The inquiry was not\nadjourned. It was held on the appointed day to satisfy the law, and it\nwas well attended because of its human interest, no doubt. There was no\nincertitude as to facts--as to the one material fact, I mean. How the\nPatna came by her hurt it was impossible to find out; the court did not\nexpect to find out; and in the whole audience there was not a man who\ncared. Yet, as I've told you, all the sailors in the port attended","had heard shouts? No? Well, I did. Shouts for help . . . blown along\nwith the drizzle. Imagination, I suppose. And yet I can hardly . . . How\nstupid. . . . The others did not. I asked them afterwards. They all\nsaid No. No? And I was hearing them even then! I might have known--but\nI didn't think--I only listened. Very faint screams--day after day. Then\nthat little half-caste chap here came up and spoke to me. 'The\nPatna . .","in a\ndelicate question as in a wisp of floss silk. I was delicate selfishly;\nI did not want to startle him; I had no solicitude for him; I was not\nfurious with him and sorry for him: his experience was of no importance,\nhis redemption would have had no point for me. He had grown old in minor\niniquities, and could no longer inspire aversion or pity. He repeated\nPatna? interrogatively, seemed to make a short effort of memory, and\nsaid: \"Quite right. I am an old st","repeated\nPatna? interrogatively, seemed to make a short effort of memory, and\nsaid: \"Quite right. I am an old stager out here. I saw her go down.\" I\nmade ready to vent my indignation at such a stupid lie, when he added\nsmoothly, \"She was full of reptiles.\"\n\n'This made me pause. What did he mean? The unsteady phantom of terror\nbehind his glassy eyes seemed to stand still and look into mine\nwistfully. \"They turned me out of my bunk in the middle",", and\nlittle by little it dawned upon Archie that this was a development of\nthe Patna case. He says that as soon as he understood who it was before\nhim he felt quite unwell--Archie is so sympathetic and easily upset--but\npulled himself together and shouted \"Stop! I can't listen to you. You\nmust go to the Master Attendant. I can't possibly listen to you. Captain\nElliot is the man you want to see. This way, this way.\" He jumped\nup, ran round that long counter, pulled, shoved:","and almost\nclimbing on each other's backs. Quite a riot. By that time the fellow\nhad managed to tug and jerk his hat clear of his head, and advanced with\nslight bows at Ruthvel, who told me the sight was so discomposing that\nfor some time he listened, quite unable to make out what that apparition\nwanted. It spoke in a voice harsh and lugubrious but intrepid, and\nlittle by little it dawned upon Archie that this was a development of\nthe Patna case. He says that as soon as he","and low like a capricious\nfeather in a faint stir of air. He and the chief engineer had been\ncronies for a good few years--serving the same jovial, crafty, old\nChinaman, with horn-rimmed goggles and strings of red silk plaited into\nthe venerable grey hairs of his pigtail. The quay-side opinion in the\nPatna's home-port was that these two in the way of brazen peculation\n'had done together pretty well everything you can think of.' Outwardly\nthey","flung open the door without knocking. \"The master of the Patna, sir,\"\nhe shouts. \"Go in, captain.\" He saw the old man lift his head from some\nwriting so sharp that his nose-nippers fell off, banged the door to, and\nfled to his desk, where he had some papers waiting for his signature:\nbut he says the row that burst out in there was so awful that he\ncouldn't collect his senses sufficiently to remember the spelling of\nhis own name. Archie's the most sensitive shipping-master in the two\n"],["ages. They stopped him at last. A silence fell upon\nthe court,--a silence that remained unbroken for at least a minute, and\npassed gently into a deep murmur. This episode was the sensation of\nthe second day's proceedings--affecting all the audience, affecting\neverybody except Jim, who was sitting moodily at the end of the first\nbench, and never looked up at this extraordinary and damning witness\nthat seemed possessed of some mysterious theory of defence.\n\n'So these two lascars stuck to the helm of that ship without\nsteerage-","of the crew were sleeping on the number one hatch within reach of\nmy arm,\" began Jim again.\n\n'You must know they kept Kalashee watch in that ship, all hands sleeping\nthrough the night, and only the reliefs of quartermasters and look-out\nmen being called. He was tempted to grip and shake the shoulder of the\nnearest lascar, but he didn't. Something held his arms down along his\nsides. He was not afraid--oh no! only he just couldn't--that's all. He\nwas not afraid of death perhaps","less it had for its object the killing of a donkeyman and the bringing\nof worse than death upon Jim, appeared an utterly aimless piece of\ndevilry. This view occurring to me took off my attention. For a time I\nwas aware of the magistrate's voice as a sound merely; but in a moment\nit shaped itself into distinct words . . . \"in utter disregard of their\nplain duty,\" it said. The next sentence escaped me somehow, and\nthen . . . \"abandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property\nconfided to their charge\"","--do you think I've been done\nto that extent?\" he inquired very earnest and deliberate. The band moved\naway, dropping into chairs as they went; matches flared, illuminating\nfor a second faces without the ghost of an expression and the flat glaze\nof white shirt-fronts; the hum of many conversations animated with the\nardour of feasting sounded to me absurd and infinitely remote.\n\n'\"Some of the crew were sleeping on the number one hatch within reach of\nmy arm,\" began Jim again.\n\n'You must know they kept Kalas","in his face, in his movements, in his very voice when\nhe said \"They shouted\"--and involuntarily I pricked up my ears for\nthe ghost of that shout that would be heard directly through the false\neffect of silence. \"There were eight hundred people in that ship,\" he\nsaid, impaling me to the back of my seat with an awful blank stare.\n\"Eight hundred living people, and they were yelling after the one dead\nman to come down and be saved. 'Jump, George! Jump! Oh, jump!' I stood\nby with my hand on","in the\nhalf-light of the big court-room where the audience seemed composed of\nstaring shadows. They wanted facts. Facts! They demanded facts from him,\nas if facts could explain anything!\n\n'After you had concluded you had collided with something floating awash,\nsay a water-logged wreck, you were ordered by your captain to go forward\nand ascertain if there was any damage done. Did you think it likely from\nthe force of the blow?' asked the assessor sitting to the left. He had\na thin horseshoe beard, salient cheek-bones","their doing as plainly as if they had reached up with a boat-hook and\npulled me over. Can't you see it? You must see it. Come. Speak--straight\nout.\"\n\n'His uneasy eyes fastened upon mine, questioned, begged, challenged,\nentreated. For the life of me I couldn't help murmuring, \"You've been\ntried.\" \"More than is fair,\" he caught up swiftly. \"I wasn't given half\na chance--with a gang like that. And now they were friendly--oh,",", fearing the worst. He\ngave a start, and looked at me as if I had been a sorcerer. \"Why, yes!\nHow do you know? Some of them were talking about it here. There was a\ncaptain or two, the manager of Vanlo's engineering shop at the harbour,\ntwo or three others, and myself. Jim was in here too, having a sandwich\nand a glass of beer; when we are busy--you see, captain--there's no time\nfor a proper tiffin. He was standing by this table eating sandw","was to come down upon the consequences, and\nfrankly, a casual police magistrate and two nautical assessors are not\nmuch good for anything else. I don't mean to imply these fellows were\nstupid. The magistrate was very patient. One of the assessors was a\nsailing-ship skipper with a reddish beard, and of a pious disposition.\nBrierly was the other. Big Brierly. Some of you must have heard of Big\nBrierly--the captain of the crack ship of the Blue Star line. That'","stuck to it that\nthere was nothing to be seen after the first shower had cleared away;\nand the others had affirmed the same thing to the officers of the\nAvondale. Of course people shook their heads and smiled. One old skipper\nwho sat near me in court tickled my ear with his white beard to murmur,\n\"Of course they would lie.\" As a matter of fact nobody lied; not even\nthe chief engineer with his story of the mast-head light dropping like a\nmatch you throw down. Not consciously, at least. A man with his liver in\nsuch a state","A month or so afterwards, when Jim, in answer to pointed questions,\ntried to tell honestly the truth of this experience, he said, speaking\nof the ship: 'She went over whatever it was as easy as a snake crawling\nover a stick.' The illustration was good: the questions were aiming at\nfacts, and the official Inquiry was being held in the police court of an\nEastern port. He stood elevated in the witness-box, with burning cheeks\nin a cool lofty room: the big framework of punkahs moved gently to and\nfro high above his","and said\nthat there was no more reading of hearts than touching the sky with the\nhand, but--he consented. The others gave their opinion in turn. \"It is\nbest,\" \"Let them go,\" and so on. But most of them simply said that they\n\"believed Tuan Jim.\"\n\n'In this simple form of assent to his will lies the whole gist of\nthe situation; their creed, his truth; and the testimony to that\nfaithfulness which made him in his own eyes the equal of the\nimpeccable men who never fall out of the","pieces. The chief engineer advised him to humour me. He\nsaid I wasn't right in my head yet. The other rose astern, like a thick\npillar of flesh--and talked--talked. . . .\"\n\n'Jim remained thoughtful. \"Well?\" I said. \"What did I care what story\nthey agreed to make up?\" he cried recklessly. \"They could tell what they\njolly well liked. It was their business. I knew the story. Nothing\nthey could make people believe could alter it for me. I let him talk,\nargue",", and, actually,\nmustered enough pluck to run an errand to the engine-room. No trifle, it\nmust be owned in fairness to him. Jim told me he darted desperate looks\nlike a cornered man, gave one low wail, and dashed off. He was back\ninstantly clambering, hammer in hand, and without a pause flung himself\nat the bolt. The others gave up Jim at once and ran off to assist.\nHe heard the tap, tap of the hammer, the sound of the released chock\nfalling over. The boat","way giving him the slightest chance of attaining\nhis ends--he argued in a fit of coughing. But he didn't tell Jim this.\nAs to the hardships and starvation they had gone through, these had been\nvery real; it was enough to look at his band. He made, at the sound of a\nshrill whistle, all his men appear standing in a row on the logs in full\nview, so that Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war","At it they\nwent, as if trying to drive me overboard with the noise! . . . 'I wonder\nyou had pluck enough to jump. You ain't wanted here. If I had known who\nit was, I would have tipped you over--you skunk! What have you done with\nthe other? Where did you get the pluck to jump--you coward? What's to\nprevent us three from firing you overboard?' . . . They were out of\nbreath; the shower passed away upon the sea. Then nothing. There was\nnothing round the","which he began again. He wanted it over. He was severely left\nalone, and he formulated in his head this address to the ship in a\ntone of imprecation, while at the same time he enjoyed the privilege of\nwitnessing scenes--as far as I can judge--of low comedy. They were still\nat that bolt. The skipper was ordering, \"Get under and try to lift\"; and\nthe others naturally shirked. You understand that to be squeezed flat\nunder the keel of a boat wasn't a desirable position to be caught in if\nthe ship went","of material things, there are as many shipwrecks as there are men, and\nin this one there was something abject which made the isolation more\ncomplete--there was a villainy of circumstances that cut these men off\nmore completely from the rest of mankind, whose ideal of conduct had\nnever undergone the trial of a fiendish and appalling joke. They were\nexasperated with him for being a half-hearted shirker: he focussed on\nthem his hatred of the whole thing; he would have liked to take a signal\nrevenge for","it might have struck the officers of the\nAvondale that there was \"something fishy\" in the affair; but of course\nthey would keep their doubts to themselves. They had picked up the\ncaptain, the mate, and two engineers of the steamer Patna sunk at sea,\nand that, very properly, was enough for them. I did not ask Jim about\nthe nature of his feelings during the ten days he spent on board. From\nthe way he narrated that part I was at liberty to infer he was partly\nstunned by the discovery he had made--the discovery about himself","\n'The authorities were evidently of the same opinion. The inquiry was not\nadjourned. It was held on the appointed day to satisfy the law, and it\nwas well attended because of its human interest, no doubt. There was no\nincertitude as to facts--as to the one material fact, I mean. How the\nPatna came by her hurt it was impossible to find out; the court did not\nexpect to find out; and in the whole audience there was not a man who\ncared. Yet, as I've told you, all the sailors in the port attended"],["\n\"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\"\ncommented Brown half aloud. \"No, no. The proper way is to kill him the\nfirst chance you get, and then you can do what you like,\" Cornelius\nwould insist earnestly. \"I have lived for many years here, and I am\ngiving you a friend's advice.\"\n\n'In such converse and in gloating over the view of Patusan, which he had\ndetermined in his mind should become his prey, Brown whiled away most\nof the afternoon","\"No!\" shouted Jim in\na passion. \"I have not, and I don't intend to. I am going to live here,\nin Patusan.\" \"You shall d-d-die h-h-here,\" answered Cornelius,\nstill shaking violently, and in a sort of expiring voice. The whole\nperformance was so absurd and provoking that Jim didn't know whether he\nought to be amused or angry. \"Not till I have seen you tucked away,\nyou bet,\" he called out, exasperated yet ready to laugh. Half seriously\n","ear, and evidently I had given him food for thought. Strangely enough,\non the evening of that very day (which was my last in Patusan) I was\nonce more confronted with the same question, with the unanswerable why\nof Jim's fate. And this brings me to the story of his love.\n\n'I suppose you think it is a story that you can imagine for yourselves.\nWe have heard so many such stories, and the majority of us don't believe\nthem to be stories of love at all. For the most part we look upon them","\n'Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing; but to them, as to\nmany of us, the blessing came heralded by terrors. So many generations\nhad been released since the last white man had visited the river that\nthe very tradition had been lost. The appearance of the being that\ndescended upon them and demanded inflexibly to be taken up to Patusan\nwas discomposing; his insistence was alarming; his generosity more than\nsuspicious. It was an unheard-of request. There was no precedent. What\nw","--it is said--even jumped down to the\nground--fifteen feet, I should judge--and broke his leg. The royal\ngovernor of Patusan had bizarre mannerisms, and one of them was to\nintroduce boastful rhapsodies into every arduous discussion, when,\ngetting gradually excited, he would end by flying off his perch with a\nkriss in his hand. But, barring such interruptions, the deliberations\nupon Jim's fate went on night and day.\n\n'Meanwhile he wandered about the cour","as an astronomer, I should fancy, would strongly object to being\ntransported into a distant heavenly body, where, parted from his earthly\nemoluments, he would be bewildered by the view of an unfamiliar heavens.\nHowever, neither heavenly bodies nor astronomers have anything to do\nwith Patusan. It was Jim who went there. I only meant you to understand\nthat had Stein arranged to send him into a star of the fifth magnitude\nthe change could not have been greater. He left his earthly failings\nbehind him and what sort of reputation he had","\ndrooping on each side of his thick, dark lips, came forward smirking. He\nturned out, notwithstanding his self-satisfied and cheery exterior, to\nbe of a careworn temperament. In answer to a remark of mine (while Jim\nhad gone below for a moment) he said, \"Oh yes. Patusan.\" He was going to\ncarry the gentleman to the mouth of the river, but would \"never ascend.\"\nHis flowing English seemed to be derived from a dictionary compiled by\na lunatic. Had Mr. Stein desired him to \"","other point I was perfectly frank with him, and I even (as\nI believed at the time) exaggerated the danger of the undertaking. As\na matter of fact I did not do it justice; his first day in Patusan was\nnearly his last--would have been his last if he had not been so reckless\nor so hard on himself and had condescended to load that revolver. I\nremember, as I unfolded our precious scheme for his retreat, how his\nstubborn but weary resignation was gradually replaced by surprise,\ninterest, wonder, and by","farers. She had been carried off to Patusan before her eyes\nwere open. She had grown up there; she had seen nothing, she had known\nnothing, she had no conception of anything. I ask myself whether she\nwere sure that anything else existed. What notions she may have formed\nof the outside world is to me inconceivable: all that she knew of its\ninhabitants were a betrayed woman and a sinister pantaloon. Her lover\nalso came to her from there, gifted with irresistible seductions; but\nwhat would become","in some commercial house in\nthe Dutch colonies. I gathered from Stein that this man was an\nunsatisfactory person in more ways than one, all being more or less\nindefinite and offensive. It was solely for his wife's sake that Stein\nhad appointed him manager of Stein & Co.'s trading post in Patusan;\nbut commercially the arrangement was not a success, at any rate for\nthe firm, and now the woman had died, Stein was disposed to try another\nagent there. The Portuguese, whose name was Cornelius, considered\nhimself a very des",", I believe, on\npurely religious grounds, had incited the tribes in the interior (the\nbush-folk, as Jim himself called them) to rise, and had established\nhimself in a fortified camp on the summit of one of the twin hills. He\nhung over the town of Patusan like a hawk over a poultry-yard, but he\ndevastated the open country. Whole villages, deserted, rotted on their\nblackened posts over the banks of clear streams, dropping piecemeal into\nthe water the grass of their walls, the leaves","\n'Perhaps he had heard of Patusan--or perhaps he just only happened to\nsee the name written in small letters on the chart--probably that of a\nlargish village up a river in a native state, perfectly defenceless, far\nfrom the beaten tracks of the sea and from the ends of submarine cables.\nHe had done that kind of thing before--in the way of business;\nand this now was an absolute necessity, a question of life and\ndeath--or rather of liberty. Of liberty! He was sure to get\nprovisions--bullocks--","after a silence occupied in the careful lighting of a cigar. 'It does\nnot matter; there's many a heavenly body in the lot crowding upon us of\na night that mankind had never heard of, it being outside the sphere\nof its activities and of no earthly importance to anybody but to the\nastronomers who are paid to talk learnedly about its composition,\nweight, path--the irregularities of its conduct, the aberrations of its\nlight--a sort of scientific scandal-mongering. Thus with Patusan. It\nwas referred to knowingly in the","ing without\ndismay ill-luck, censure, and disaster. The smuggling of a few guns was\nno great crime, he pointed out. As to coming to Patusan, who had the\nright to say he hadn't come to beg? The infernal people here let loose\nat him from both banks without staying to ask questions. He made\nthe point brazenly, for, in truth, Dain Waris's energetic action had\nprevented the greatest calamities; because Brown told me distinctly\nthat, perceiving the size of the place,","full of it that he could not\nhelp telling the girl all about it at once. She listened, clapped her\nhands lightly, whispered softly her admiration, but was evidently on the\nalert all the time. It seems he had been used to make a confidant of\nher all along--and that she on her part could and did give him a lot of\nuseful hints as to Patusan affairs there is no doubt. He assured me more\nthan once that he had never found himself the worse for her advice. At\nany rate, he was proceeding to explain his plan fully","detailed and amazing impression of a dream.\nWhy should she fear? She knew him to be strong, true, wise, brave. He\nwas all that. Certainly. He was more. He was great--invincible--and the\nworld did not want him, it had forgotten him, it would not even know\nhim.\n\n'I stopped; the silence over Patusan was profound, and the feeble dry\nsound of a paddle striking the side of a canoe somewhere in the middle\nof the river seemed to make it infinite. \"Why?\" she murmured. I felt\nthat sort","to the helm. When he turned to me\nagain it was to speak judicially, without passion. He would take the\ngentleman to the mouth of the river at Batu Kring (Patusan town \"being\nsituated internally,\" he remarked, \"thirty miles\"). But in his eyes,\nhe continued--a tone of bored, weary conviction replacing his previous\nvoluble delivery--the gentleman was already \"in the similitude of a\ncorpse.\" \"What? What do you say?\" I asked. He assumed a startlingly\nferocious de","it floated away above the summits, as if escaping from a yawning grave\nin gentle triumph. \"Wonderful effect,\" said Jim by my side. \"Worth\nseeing. Is it not?\"\n\n'And this question was put with a note of personal pride that made me\nsmile, as though he had had a hand in regulating that unique spectacle.\nHe had regulated so many things in Patusan--things that would have\nappeared as much beyond his control as the motions of the moon and the\nstars.\n\n'It was","iness. She left the room, and\nhe followed her; in the passage they disturbed an old hag who did the\ncasual cooking of the household, though she was so decrepit as to be\nhardly able to understand human speech. She got up and hobbled behind\nthem, mumbling toothlessly. On the verandah a hammock of sail-cloth,\nbelonging to Cornelius, swayed lightly to the touch of Jim's elbow. It\nwas empty.\n\n'The Patusan establishment, like all the posts of Stein's Tr","for a talk.\nTamb' Itam himself hoped there would be some fighting. \"What was it but\nthe taking of another hill?\" he exclaimed regretfully. However, in the\ntown many hoped that the rapacious strangers would be induced, by the\nsight of so many brave men making ready to fight, to go away. It would\nbe a good thing if they went away. Since Jim's arrival had been made\nknown before daylight by the gun fired from the fort and the beating of\nthe big drum there, the fear that had hung over Patusan had broken and\nsub"],["ombay, in Calcutta, in Rangoon, in Penang, in Batavia--and in each of\nthese halting-places was just Jim the water-clerk. Afterwards, when his\nkeen perception of the Intolerable drove him away for good from seaports\nand white men, even into the virgin forest, the Malays of the jungle\nvillage, where he had elected to conceal his deplorable faculty, added a\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\none might say","seen. He called him Tuan\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at","\n\n'The defeated Sherif Ali fled the country without making another stand,\nand when the miserable hunted villagers began to crawl out of the jungle\nback to their rotting houses, it was Jim who, in consultation with Dain\nWaris, appointed the headmen. Thus he became the virtual ruler of the\nland. As to old Tunku Allang, his fears at first had known no bounds. It\nis said that at the intelligence of the successful storming of the hill\nhe flung himself, face down, on the bamboo floor of his audience-hall,\n","ing in his own fashion upon\nthe events of the last three years. Brown, who, apparently indifferent\nand gazing away, listened with attention to every word, could not make\nout clearly what sort of man this Jim could be. \"What's his name?\nJim! Jim! That's not enough for a man's name.\" \"They call him,\" said\nCornelius scornfully, \"Tuan Jim here. As you may say Lord Jim.\" \"What is\nhe? Where does he come from?\" inquired Brown. \"What sort of man is he?","up. \"Why do you stand here?\" he asked\nvery red-faced. \"Waste no time.\" Tamb' Itam did not move. \"Forgive me,\nTuan, but . . . but,\" he began to stammer. \"What?\" cried his master\naloud, looking terrible, leaning forward with his hands gripping the\nedge of the bed. \"It is not safe for thy servant to go out amongst the\npeople,\" said Tamb' Itam, after hesitating a moment.\n\n'Then Jim understood. He had retreated from one world, for a small\nm","on the house; and the girl, in the doorway, panting\nas if she had run herself to a standstill, was looking at him across the\nyard. Tamb' Itam stood not far from his master, waiting patiently for\nwhat might happen. All at once Jim, who seemed to be lost in quiet\nthought, turned to him and said, \"Time to finish this.\"\n\n'\"Tuan?\" said Tamb' Itam, advancing with alacrity. He did not know what\nhis master meant, but as soon as Jim made a movement the girl started\ntoo and","and said\nthat there was no more reading of hearts than touching the sky with the\nhand, but--he consented. The others gave their opinion in turn. \"It is\nbest,\" \"Let them go,\" and so on. But most of them simply said that they\n\"believed Tuan Jim.\"\n\n'In this simple form of assent to his will lies the whole gist of\nthe situation; their creed, his truth; and the testimony to that\nfaithfulness which made him in his own eyes the equal of the\nimpeccable men who never fall out of the","\nwithout did not hear him make a sound. Later, towards the evening, he\ncame to the door and called for Tamb' Itam. \"Well?\" he asked. \"There is\nmuch weeping. Much anger too,\" said Tamb' Itam. Jim looked up at him.\n\"You know,\" he murmured. \"Yes, Tuan,\" said Tamb' Itam. \"Thy servant does\nknow, and the gates are closed. We shall have to fight.\" \"Fight! What\nfor?\" he asked. \"For our lives.\" \"I have no life,\" he said. Tamb","way up in three tides without being exposed to a fusillade from\n\"irresponsive parties.\" Such a state of affairs belonged already to\nancient history, if I could believe the elderly headman of the fishing\nvillage, who came on board to act as a sort of pilot. He talked to me\n(the second white man he had ever seen) with confidence, and most of his\ntalk was about the first white man he had ever seen. He called him Tuan\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\nmixture of familiarity and awe","separate her fingers. Jim, bending\nover her, looked earnestly upon her face, and all at once ran to the\nlanding-stage. Tamb' Itam followed him, but turning his head, he saw\nthat she had struggled up to her feet. She ran after them a few steps,\nthen fell down heavily on her knees. \"Tuan! Tuan!\" called Tamb' Itam,\n\"look back;\" but Jim was already in a canoe, standing up paddle in hand.\nHe did not look back. Tamb' Itam had just time to scramble in after\n","at\nonce. \"This, Tuan, is a day of evil, an accursed day.\" His master raised\nhimself on his elbow to listen--just as Dain Waris had done. And then\nTamb' Itam began his tale, trying to relate the story in order, calling\nDain Waris Panglima, and saying: \"The Panglima then called out to the\nchief of his own boatmen, 'Give Tamb' Itam something to eat'\"--when\nhis master put his feet to the ground and looked at him with such a\ndis","were burning, inland on the outskirts of the town where\nsmall parties of men kept guard in the fields. Tuan Jim gave his orders\nand was obeyed. Last of all they went to the Rajah's stockade, which a\ndetachment of Jim's people manned on that night. The old Rajah had fled\nearly in the morning with most of his women to a small house he had\nnear a jungle village on a tributary stream. Kassim, left behind, had\nattended the council with his air of diligent activity to explain away\n","am I not? What more can I\nwant? If you ask them who is brave--who is true--who is just--who is it\nthey would trust with their lives?--they would say, Tuan Jim. And yet\nthey can never know the real, real truth . . .\"\n\n'That's what he said to me on my last day with him. I did not let a\nmurmur escape me: I felt he was going to say more, and come no nearer\nto the root of the matter. The sun, whose concentrated glare dwarfs the\nearth","would naturally\nfind his way to Stein's house. I returned his greeting and passed on. At\nthe door of Stein's room I came upon another Malay in whom I recognised\nTamb' Itam.\n\n'I asked him at once what he was doing there; it occurred to me that\nJim might have come on a visit. I own I was pleased and excited at the\nthought. Tamb' Itam looked as if he did not know what to say. \"Is Tuan\nJim inside?\" I asked impatiently. \"No,\" he mumbled, hanging his","plorable faculty, added a\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\none might say--Lord Jim.\n\nOriginally he came from a parsonage. Many commanders of fine\nmerchant-ships come from these abodes of piety and peace. Jim's father\npossessed such certain knowledge of the Unknowable as made for the\nrighteousness of people in cottages without disturbing the ease of mind\nof those whom an unerring Providence enables to live in mansions. The\nlittle","\npowder in Patusan.\" She caught him by the arm, and, pointing at the\nhouse, \"Call him out,\" she whispered, trembling.\n\n'Tamb' Itam ran up the steps. His master was sleeping. \"It is I, Tamb'\nItam,\" he cried at the door, \"with tidings that cannot wait.\" He saw\nJim turn over on the pillow and open his eyes, and he burst out at\nonce. \"This, Tuan, is a day of evil, an accursed day.\" His master raised\nhimself on his elbow to","complimentary\nwith his late captor. Oh! magnificent! I want to laugh when I think of\nit. But I was impressed, too. The old disreputable Tunku Allang could\nnot help showing his fear (he was no hero, for all the tales of his hot\nyouth he was fond of telling); and at the same time there was a wistful\nconfidence in his manner towards his late prisoner. Note! Even where he\nwould be most hated he was still trusted. Jim--as far as I could follow\nthe conversation--was improving the occasion by the delivery","ued with him feebly. Some of the Bugis settlers, weary with\nendless insecurity, were half inclined to call him in. The younger\nspirits amongst them, chaffing, advised to \"get Sherif Ali with his wild\nmen and drive the Rajah Allang out of the country.\" Doramin restrained\nthem with difficulty. He was growing old, and, though his influence had\nnot diminished, the situation was getting beyond him. This was the state\nof affairs when Jim, bolting from the Rajah's stockade, appeared before\nthe chief of","where he\nwould be most hated he was still trusted. Jim--as far as I could follow\nthe conversation--was improving the occasion by the delivery of a\nlecture. Some poor villagers had been waylaid and robbed while on their\nway to Doramin's house with a few pieces of gum or beeswax which they\nwished to exchange for rice. \"It was Doramin who was a thief,\" burst\nout the Rajah. A shaking fury seemed to enter that old frail body.\nHe writhed weirdly on his mat, gesticulating","As you may say Lord Jim.\" \"What is\nhe? Where does he come from?\" inquired Brown. \"What sort of man is he?\nIs he an Englishman?\" \"Yes, yes, he's an Englishman. I am an Englishman\ntoo. From Malacca. He is a fool. All you have to do is to kill him and\nthen you are king here. Everything belongs to him,\" explained Cornelius.\n\"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\"\ncommented Brown half aloud. \"No, no. The proper"],["oe up on the strand. It was a big camp. Men crouched in many\nlittle knots under a subdued murmur of early morning talk. Many thin\nthreads of smoke curled slowly on the white mist. Little shelters,\nelevated above the ground, had been built for the chiefs. Muskets were\nstacked in small pyramids, and long spears were stuck singly into the\nsand near the fires.\n\n'Tamb' Itam, assuming an air of importance, demanded to be led to Dain\nWaris. He found","\nmany survivors of Dain Waris's party; but in the extremity of panic some\nhad swum across the river, others had bolted into the bush. The fact is\nthat they did not know really who struck that blow--whether more white\nrobbers were not coming, whether they had not already got hold of\nthe whole land. They imagined themselves to be the victims of a vast\ntreachery, and utterly doomed to destruction. It is said that some small\nparties did not come in till three days afterwards. However, a few tried\nto make their way back to","ended by their women-folk. The women\nand children from the lower part of the town had been sent into the\nfort at the first alarm. There Jewel was in command, very efficient and\nhigh-spirited, obeyed by Jim's \"own people,\" who, quitting in a body\ntheir little settlement under the stockade, had gone in to form the\ngarrison. The refugees crowded round her; and through the whole affair,\nto the very disastrous last, she showed an extraordinary martial ardour.\nIt was to her that Dain Waris had gone","ore and ran\nin headlong. The first person he met was the girl coming down from the\nhouse.\n\n'Tamb' Itam, disordered, panting, with trembling lips and wild eyes,\nstood for a time before her as if a sudden spell had been laid on him.\nThen he broke out very quickly: \"They have killed Dain Waris and many\nmore.\" She clapped her hands, and her first words were, \"Shut the\ngates.\" Most of the fortmen had gone back to their houses, but Tamb'\nItam hurried on the few who","charged with thunder.\" He told me that when Dain\nWaris's body was uncovered at a sign of Doramin's, he whom they often\ncalled the white lord's friend was disclosed lying unchanged with his\neyelids a little open as if about to wake. Doramin leaned forward a\nlittle more, like one looking for something fallen on the ground. His\neyes searched the body from its feet to its head, for the wound maybe.\nIt was in the forehead and small; and there was no word spoken while\none of the by-standers, stoop","near the fires.\n\n'Tamb' Itam, assuming an air of importance, demanded to be led to Dain\nWaris. He found the friend of his white lord lying on a raised couch\nmade of bamboo, and sheltered by a sort of shed of sticks covered with\nmats. Dain Waris was awake, and a bright fire was burning before his\nsleeping-place, which resembled a rude shrine. The only son of nakhoda\nDoramin answered his greeting kindly. Tamb' Itam began by handing him\nthe ring which vouched","me approaching he cast himself\nviolently on the ground and made a great outcry, kicking. He screeched\nlike a frightened hen till he felt the point; then he was still, and lay\nstaring at me while his life went out of his eyes.\"\n\n'This done, Tamb' Itam did not tarry. He understood the importance of\nbeing the first with the awful news at the fort. There were, of course,\nmany survivors of Dain Waris's party; but in the extremity of panic some\nhad swum across the river, others had bolted","power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and\nadmired as he was, he was still one of _them_, while Jim was one of\nus. Moreover, the white man, a tower of strength in himself, was\ninvulnerable, while Dain Waris could be killed. Those unexpressed\nthoughts guided the opinions of the chief men of the town, who elected\nto assemble in Jim's fort for deliberation upon the emergency, as if\nexpecting","fierce-faced, heavy, looking at the\nspeakers in turn, and breathing slow like a bull. He didn't speak till\nthe last, after Kassim had declared that the Rajah's boats would be\ncalled in because the men were required to defend his master's stockade.\nDain Waris in his father's presence would offer no opinion, though the\ngirl entreated him in Jim's name to speak out. She offered him Jim's own\nmen in her anxiety to have these intruders driven out at once. He only\nshook his head, after","at\nonce. \"This, Tuan, is a day of evil, an accursed day.\" His master raised\nhimself on his elbow to listen--just as Dain Waris had done. And then\nTamb' Itam began his tale, trying to relate the story in order, calling\nDain Waris Panglima, and saying: \"The Panglima then called out to the\nchief of his own boatmen, 'Give Tamb' Itam something to eat'\"--when\nhis master put his feet to the ground and looked at him with such a\ndis","and what do\nyou get for it? You might have had money from the Rajah, besides the\nloot of all the Bugis houses, and now you get nothing.\" \"You had better\nclear out from here,\" growled Brown, without even looking at him. But\nCornelius let himself drop by his side and began to whisper very fast,\ntouching his elbow from time to time. What he had to say made Brown sit\nup at first, with a curse. He had simply informed him of Dain Waris's\narmed party down the river. At first Brown saw himself completely","view, cursing and yelling, \"Aim low! aim low!\"\n\n'Tamb' Itam says that, as for him, he understood at the first volley\nwhat had happened. Though untouched he fell down and lay as if dead,\nbut with his eyes open. At the sound of the first shots Dain Waris,\nreclining on the couch, jumped up and ran out upon the open shore, just\nin time to receive a bullet in his forehead at the second discharge.\nTamb' Itam saw him fling his arms wide open before he fell.","w chilling his very bones; how afraid he was he\nwould begin to shiver and shake like a leaf before the time came for\nthe advance. \"It was the slowest half-hour in my life,\" he declared.\nGradually the silent stockade came out on the sky above him. Men\nscattered all down the slope were crouching amongst the dark stones and\ndripping bushes. Dain Waris was lying flattened by his side. \"We\nlooked at each other,\" Jim said, resting a gentle hand on his friend's\nshoulder. \"He smiled",", and the other\nburst into an amazing noise of yells, war-cries, shouts of anger, of\nsurprise, of dismay. Jim and Dain Waris were the first to lay their\nhands on the stakes. The popular story has it that Jim with a touch\nof one finger had thrown down the gate. He was, of course, anxious\nto disclaim this achievement. The whole stockade--he would insist on\nexplaining to you--was a poor affair (Sherif Ali trusted mainly to the\ninaccessible position); and, anyway, the thing","seen the splinters fly,\" he\ncried. By his side Dain Waris, listening with a quiet smile, dropped his\neyelids and shuffled his feet a little. It appears that the success in\nmounting the guns had given Jim's people such a feeling of confidence\nthat he ventured to leave the battery under charge of two elderly Bugis\nwho had seen some fighting in their day, and went to join Dain Waris and\nthe storming party who were concealed in the ravine. In the small hours\nthey began creeping up, and when two-thirds of","on\nexplaining to you--was a poor affair (Sherif Ali trusted mainly to the\ninaccessible position); and, anyway, the thing had been already knocked\nto pieces and only hung together by a miracle. He put his shoulder to it\nlike a little fool and went in head over heels. Jove! If it hadn't been\nfor Dain Waris, a pock-marked tattooed vagabond would have pinned him\nwith his spear to a baulk of timber like one of Stein's beetles. The\nthird man in, it seems","The white men, deputing with the consent of\nall the chiefs, were to be allowed to pass down the river. In answer to\na question or two Tamb' Itam then reported the proceedings of the last\ncouncil. Dain Waris listened attentively to the end, toying with the\nring which ultimately he slipped on the forefinger of his right hand.\nAfter hearing all he had to say he dismissed Tamb' Itam to have food\nand rest. Orders for the return in the afternoon were given immediately.\nAfterwards Dain Waris lay down again, open-","And Dain Waris--their son--is the best\nfriend (barring you) I ever had. What Mr. Stein would call a good\n'war-comrade.' I was in luck. Jove! I was in luck when I tumbled amongst\nthem at my last gasp.\" He meditated with bowed head, then rousing\nhimself he added--'\"Of course I didn't go to sleep over it, but . . .\"\nHe paused again. \"It seemed to come to me,\" he murmured. \"All at once I\nsaw what I had to do","he asked. He believed that it\nwould be best to let these whites and their followers go with their\nlives. It would be a small gift. \"I whom you have tried and found always\ntrue ask you to let them go.\" He turned to Doramin. The old nakhoda made\nno movement. \"Then,\" said Jim, \"call in Dain Waris, your son, my friend,\nfor in this business I shall not lead.\"'\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 43\n\n\n'Tamb' Itam behind his chair was thunderstruck. The declaration produced\n","on his\nbreast. The whispers of many men mingled with the slight rustling of the\nleaves.\n\n'The Malay who had brought Tamb' Itam and the girl to Samarang was there\ntoo. \"Not so angry as many,\" he said to me, but struck with a great\nawe and wonder at the \"suddenness of men's fate, which hangs over their\nheads like a cloud charged with thunder.\" He told me that when Dain\nWaris's body was uncovered at a sign of Doramin's, he whom they"],["That man there seemed to be aware of his\nhopeless difficulty. Jim looked at him, then turned away resolutely, as\nafter a final parting.\n\nAnd later on, many times, in distant parts of the world, Marlow showed\nhimself willing to remember Jim, to remember him at length, in detail\nand audibly.\n\nPerhaps it would be after dinner, on a verandah draped in motionless\nfoliage and crowned with flowers, in the deep dusk speckled by fiery\ncigar-ends. The elongated bulk of each","voice was very droll, pretty,\nand childlike. It delighted Jim greatly. This was the last occasion on\nwhich I heard them exchange this familiar hail, and it struck a chill\ninto my heart. There was the high sweet voice, the pretty effort, the\nswagger; but it all seemed to die out prematurely, and the playful call\nsounded like a moan. It was too confoundedly awful. \"What have you done\nwith Marlow?\" Jim was asking; and then, \"Gone down--has he? Funny I\ndidn't meet him","place surroundings of an Eastern roadstead, I saw his form\npass by--appealing--significant--under a cloud--perfectly silent. Which\nis as it should be. It was for me, with all the sympathy of which I was\ncapable, to seek fit words for his meaning. He was 'one of us'.\n\nJ.C.\n\n1917.\n\n\nLORD JIM\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 1\n\n\nHe was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he\nadvanced straight at you with","down after a rush through space. He leaned his\nback against the balustrade and faced a disordered array of long cane\nchairs. The bodies prone in them seemed startled out of their torpor by\nhis movement. One or two sat up as if alarmed; here and there a cigar\nglowed yet; Marlow looked at them all with the eyes of a man returning\nfrom the excessive remoteness of a dream. A throat was cleared; a calm\nvoice encouraged negligently, 'Well.'\n\n'Nothing,' said Marlow with a slight start. 'He had told","you done\nwith Marlow?\" Jim was asking; and then, \"Gone down--has he? Funny I\ndidn't meet him. . . . You there, Marlow?\"\n\n'I didn't answer. I wasn't going in--not yet at any rate. I really\ncouldn't. While he was calling me I was engaged in making my escape\nthrough a little gate leading out upon a stretch of newly cleared\nground. No; I couldn't face them yet. I walked hastily with lowered head\nalong a trodden path. The ground","his lamp, and solitary above the billowy roofs of the\ntown, like a lighthouse-keeper above the sea, he turned to the pages of\nthe story.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 38\n\n\n'It all begins, as I've told you, with the man called Brown,' ran the\nopening sentence of Marlow's narrative. 'You who have knocked about the\nWestern Pacific must have heard of him. He was the show ruffian on the\nAustralian coast--not that he was often to be seen there, but because\nhe was always","'t have been drunk--was he? Such a quiet, soft-spoken\nchap too--blush like a girl when he came on board. . . .' I tell you,\nCaptain Marlow, nobody had a chance against us with a strange ship when\nJim was out. The other ship-chandlers just kept their old customers, and\n. . .\"\n\n'Egstrom appeared overcome with emotion.\n\n'\"Why, sir--it seemed as though he wouldn't mind going a hundred miles\nout to sea in an old shoe to nab a ship for the","walking slowly alone. Brown remained standing on the log till\nJim, appearing and disappearing between the patches of thorny scrub, had\nnearly reached the creek; then Brown jumped off and went down to meet\nhim on his side.\n\n'They met, I should think, not very far from the place, perhaps on the\nvery spot, where Jim took the second desperate leap of his life--the\nleap that landed him into the life of Patusan, into the trust, the love,\nthe confidence of the people. They faced each other across the creek,\nand with","the tails of his coat blown hard against his legs.\n\n'I sat down again alone and discouraged--discouraged about Jim's case.\nIf you wonder that after more than three years it had preserved its\nactuality, you must know that I had seen him only very lately. I had\ncome straight from Samarang, where I had loaded a cargo for Sydney: an\nutterly uninteresting bit of business,--what Charley here would call one\nof my rational transactions,--and in Samarang I had seen something\nof Jim. He was then working for De","seen. He called him Tuan\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at","though he had seen the\nfailure of a potent charm in a supreme moment. The Bugis trader, a shy\nhesitating man, was very clear in the little he had to say. Both were\nevidently over-awed by a sense of deep inexpressible wonder, by the\ntouch of an inscrutable mystery.'\n\nThere with Marlow's signature the letter proper ended. The privileged\nreader screwed up his lamp, and solitary above the billowy roofs of the\ntown, like a lighthouse-keeper above the sea, he turned to the","dejectedly in the direction of the river. He was\nnow leaving his new friends; he accepted the disappointing course of\nevents with a sulky obstinacy which seemed to draw more together his\nlittle yellow old face; and as he went down he glanced askant here and\nthere, never giving up his fixed idea.\n\n'Henceforth events move fast without a check, flowing from the very\nhearts of men like a stream from a dark source, and we see Jim amongst\nthem, mostly through Tamb' Itam's eyes. The girl's eyes had watched him","within the house, a faint exclamation, and a child-like but\nenergetic little face with delicate features and a profound, attentive\nglance peeped out of the inner gloom, like a bird out of the recess of a\nnest. I was struck by the name, of course; but it was not till later\non that I connected it with an astonishing rumour that had met me on my\njourney, at a little place on the coast about 230 miles south of Patusan\nRiver. Stein's schooner, in which","first who withdraws his\narm or turns his head is a dead man,\" he said. \"March!\" They stepped out\ntogether, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing\nwhite gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light.\nErect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the\nonly sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. \"Stop!\"\ncried Jim.\n\n'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on","why? Can't tell--unless it be to make time pass away\nafter dinner. Charley, my dear chap, your dinner was extremely good, and\nin consequence these men here look upon a quiet rubber as a tumultuous\noccupation. They wallow in your good chairs and think to themselves,\n\"Hang exertion. Let that Marlow talk.\"\n\n'Talk? So be it. And it's easy enough to talk of Master Jim, after a\ngood spread, two hundred feet above the sea-level, with a box of decent\ncigars handy,","was Cornelius who hated him.\n\n'Yet after all this was a kind of recognition. You shall judge of a man\nby his foes as well as by his friends, and this enemy of Jim was such as\nno decent man would be ashamed to own, without, however, making too\nmuch of him. This was the view Jim took, and in which I shared; but Jim\ndisregarded him on general grounds. \"My dear Marlow,\" he said, \"I feel\nthat if I go straight nothing can touch me. Indeed I do. Now you have\nbeen","age and crowned with flowers, in the deep dusk speckled by fiery\ncigar-ends. The elongated bulk of each cane-chair harboured a silent\nlistener. Now and then a small red glow would move abruptly, and\nexpanding light up the fingers of a languid hand, part of a face in\nprofound repose, or flash a crimson gleam into a pair of pensive eyes\novershadowed by a fragment of an unruffled forehead; and with the very\nfirst word uttered Marlow's body, extended","He picked it up and, laying it\naside, turned to Marlow's message, ran swiftly over the opening lines,\nand, checking himself, thereafter read on deliberately, like one\napproaching with slow feet and alert eyes the glimpse of an undiscovered\ncountry.\n\n'. . . I don't suppose you've forgotten,' went on the letter. 'You alone\nhave showed an interest in him that survived the telling of his story,\nthough I remember well you would not admit he had mastered his fate.\nYou prophesied for him the disaster of weariness and","would naturally\nfind his way to Stein's house. I returned his greeting and passed on. At\nthe door of Stein's room I came upon another Malay in whom I recognised\nTamb' Itam.\n\n'I asked him at once what he was doing there; it occurred to me that\nJim might have come on a visit. I own I was pleased and excited at the\nthought. Tamb' Itam looked as if he did not know what to say. \"Is Tuan\nJim inside?\" I asked impatiently. \"No,\" he mumbled, hanging his","ing in his own fashion upon\nthe events of the last three years. Brown, who, apparently indifferent\nand gazing away, listened with attention to every word, could not make\nout clearly what sort of man this Jim could be. \"What's his name?\nJim! Jim! That's not enough for a man's name.\" \"They call him,\" said\nCornelius scornfully, \"Tuan Jim here. As you may say Lord Jim.\" \"What is\nhe? Where does he come from?\" inquired Brown. \"What sort of man is he?"],["detected the soft spot, the place of decay, the\ndetermination to lounge safely through existence.\n\nTo Jim that gossiping crowd, viewed as seamen, seemed at first more\nunsubstantial than so many shadows. But at length he found a fascination\nin the sight of those men, in their appearance of doing so well on\nsuch a small allowance of danger and toil. In time, beside the original\ndisdain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna","it might have struck the officers of the\nAvondale that there was \"something fishy\" in the affair; but of course\nthey would keep their doubts to themselves. They had picked up the\ncaptain, the mate, and two engineers of the steamer Patna sunk at sea,\nand that, very properly, was enough for them. I did not ask Jim about\nthe nature of his feelings during the ten days he spent on board. From\nthe way he narrated that part I was at liberty to infer he was partly\nstunned by the discovery he had made--the discovery about himself","seemed possessed of some mysterious theory of defence.\n\n'So these two lascars stuck to the helm of that ship without\nsteerage-way, where death would have found them if such had been their\ndestiny. The whites did not give them half a glance, had probably\nforgotten their existence. Assuredly Jim did not remember it. He\nremembered he could do nothing; he could do nothing, now he was alone.\nThere was nothing to do but to sink with the ship. No use making a\ndisturbance about it. Was there? He waited upstanding","able he thought himself cut off from them by a space that could\nnot be traversed, by an obstacle that could not be overcome, by a chasm\nwithout bottom. He was as far as he could get from them--the whole\nbreadth of the ship.\n\n'His feet were glued to that remote spot and his eyes to their\nindistinct group bowed together and swaying strangely in the common\ntorment of fear. A hand-lamp lashed to a stanchion above a little table\nrigged up on the bridge--the Patna had no chart-room",".\nI pointed out to him that the skipper of the Patna was known to have\nfeathered his nest pretty well, and could procure almost anywhere the\nmeans of getting away. With Jim it was otherwise: the Government was\nkeeping him in the Sailors' Home for the time being, and probably he\nhadn't a penny in his pocket to bless himself with. It costs some money\nto run away. \"Does it? Not always,\" he said, with a bitter laugh, and\nto some further remark of mine--\"Well, then, let him creep twenty feet","of the crew were sleeping on the number one hatch within reach of\nmy arm,\" began Jim again.\n\n'You must know they kept Kalashee watch in that ship, all hands sleeping\nthrough the night, and only the reliefs of quartermasters and look-out\nmen being called. He was tempted to grip and shake the shoulder of the\nnearest lascar, but he didn't. Something held his arms down along his\nsides. He was not afraid--oh no! only he just couldn't--that's all. He\nwas not afraid of death perhaps","ain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna.\n\nThe Patna was a local steamer as old as the hills, lean like a\ngreyhound, and eaten up with rust worse than a condemned water-tank. She\nwas owned by a Chinaman, chartered by an Arab, and commanded by a sort\nof renegade New South Wales German, very anxious to curse publicly\nhis native country, but who, apparently on the strength of Bismarck's",", and, actually,\nmustered enough pluck to run an errand to the engine-room. No trifle, it\nmust be owned in fairness to him. Jim told me he darted desperate looks\nlike a cornered man, gave one low wail, and dashed off. He was back\ninstantly clambering, hammer in hand, and without a pause flung himself\nat the bolt. The others gave up Jim at once and ran off to assist.\nHe heard the tap, tap of the hammer, the sound of the released chock\nfalling over. The boat","A hand-lamp lashed to a stanchion above a little table\nrigged up on the bridge--the Patna had no chart-room amidships--threw a\nlight on their labouring shoulders, on their arched and bobbing backs.\nThey pushed at the bow of the boat; they pushed out into the night; they\npushed, and would no more look back at him. They had given him up as if\nindeed he had been too far, too hopelessly separated from themselves, to\nbe worth an appealing word, a glance, or a sign. They had no",", and\nlittle by little it dawned upon Archie that this was a development of\nthe Patna case. He says that as soon as he understood who it was before\nhim he felt quite unwell--Archie is so sympathetic and easily upset--but\npulled himself together and shouted \"Stop! I can't listen to you. You\nmust go to the Master Attendant. I can't possibly listen to you. Captain\nElliot is the man you want to see. This way, this way.\" He jumped\nup, ran round that long counter, pulled, shoved:",", and declared it never came into his\nmind then that the white men were about to leave the ship through\nfear of death. He did not believe it now. There might have been secret\nreasons. He wagged his old chin knowingly. Aha! secret reasons. He was\na man of great experience, and he wanted _that_ white Tuan to know--he\nturned towards Brierly, who didn't raise his head--that he had acquired\na knowledge of many things by serving white men on the sea for a great\nnumber of years--and, suddenly, with","had heard shouts? No? Well, I did. Shouts for help . . . blown along\nwith the drizzle. Imagination, I suppose. And yet I can hardly . . . How\nstupid. . . . The others did not. I asked them afterwards. They all\nsaid No. No? And I was hearing them even then! I might have known--but\nI didn't think--I only listened. Very faint screams--day after day. Then\nthat little half-caste chap here came up and spoke to me. 'The\nPatna . .","less it had for its object the killing of a donkeyman and the bringing\nof worse than death upon Jim, appeared an utterly aimless piece of\ndevilry. This view occurring to me took off my attention. For a time I\nwas aware of the magistrate's voice as a sound merely; but in a moment\nit shaped itself into distinct words . . . \"in utter disregard of their\nplain duty,\" it said. The next sentence escaped me somehow, and\nthen . . . \"abandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property\nconfided to their charge\"","he could not make out began to converse\ndrowsily, and also, he could not tell where, he detected a curious\nnoise of shuffling feet. Above these faint sounds there was that awful\nstillness preceding a catastrophe, that trying silence of the moment\nbefore the crash; then it came into his head that perhaps he would have\ntime to rush along and cut all the lanyards of the gripes, so that the\nboats would float as the ship went down.\n\n'The Patna had a long bridge, and all the boats were up there,","batter your head for\nyou from these boats.\"\n\n'He wrung his hands, ignored, at Jim's elbow. The skipper kept up a\nnervous shuffle in one place and mumbled, \"Hammer! hammer! Mein Gott!\nGet a hammer.\"\n\n'The little engineer whimpered like a child, but, broken arm and all,\nhe turned out the least craven of the lot as it seems, and, actually,\nmustered enough pluck to run an errand to the engine-room. No trifle, it\nmust be owned","suddenly the chief engineer rushed again at Jim.\n\n'\"Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw your only chance away? Come\nand help, man! Man! Look there--look!\"\n\n'And at last Jim looked astern where the other pointed with maniacal\ninsistence. He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already\none-third of the sky. You know how these squalls come up there about\nthat time of the year. First you see a darkening of the horizon--no\nmore; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall. A straight","\nthemselves with fierce and secret exertions, and three looking on in\ncomplete immobility, above the awnings covering the profound ignorance\nof hundreds of human beings, with their weariness, with their dreams,\nwith their hopes, arrested, held by an invisible hand on the brink of\nannihilation. For that they were so, makes no doubt to me: given the\nstate of the ship, this was the deadliest possible description of\naccident that could happen. These beggars by the boat had every reason\nto go distracted with funk. Frankly, had",", and\nwith a raised hand checking the exclamation on my lips.\n\n'Then, while the half-caste, bursting with importance, shouted his\norders, while the yards swung creaking and the heavy boom came surging\nover, Jim and I, alone as it were, to leeward of the mainsail, clasped\neach other's hands and exchanged the last hurried words. My heart was\nfreed from that dull resentment which had existed side by side with\ninterest in his fate. The absurd chatter of the half-caste had given\nmore reality","We shall have to fight.\" \"Fight! What\nfor?\" he asked. \"For our lives.\" \"I have no life,\" he said. Tamb' Itam\nheard a cry from the girl at the door. \"Who knows?\" said Tamb' Itam.\n\"By audacity and cunning we may even escape. There is much fear in men's\nhearts too.\" He went out, thinking vaguely of boats and of open sea,\nleaving Jim and the girl together.\n\n'I haven't the heart to set down here such glimpses as she had","and\nImagination, the enemy of men, the father of all terrors, unstimulated,\nsinks to rest in the dullness of exhausted emotion. Jim saw nothing\nbut the disorder of his tossed cabin. He lay there battened down in the\nmidst of a small devastation, and felt secretly glad he had not to go on\ndeck. But now and again an uncontrollable rush of anguish would grip\nhim bodily, make him gasp and writhe under the blankets, and then the\nunintelligent brutality of an existence liable to"],["\n\n'The defeated Sherif Ali fled the country without making another stand,\nand when the miserable hunted villagers began to crawl out of the jungle\nback to their rotting houses, it was Jim who, in consultation with Dain\nWaris, appointed the headmen. Thus he became the virtual ruler of the\nland. As to old Tunku Allang, his fears at first had known no bounds. It\nis said that at the intelligence of the successful storming of the hill\nhe flung himself, face down, on the bamboo floor of his audience-hall,\n","ued with him feebly. Some of the Bugis settlers, weary with\nendless insecurity, were half inclined to call him in. The younger\nspirits amongst them, chaffing, advised to \"get Sherif Ali with his wild\nmen and drive the Rajah Allang out of the country.\" Doramin restrained\nthem with difficulty. He was growing old, and, though his influence had\nnot diminished, the situation was getting beyond him. This was the state\nof affairs when Jim, bolting from the Rajah's stockade, appeared before\nthe chief of","where he\nwould be most hated he was still trusted. Jim--as far as I could follow\nthe conversation--was improving the occasion by the delivery of a\nlecture. Some poor villagers had been waylaid and robbed while on their\nway to Doramin's house with a few pieces of gum or beeswax which they\nwished to exchange for rice. \"It was Doramin who was a thief,\" burst\nout the Rajah. A shaking fury seemed to enter that old frail body.\nHe writhed weirdly on his mat, gesticulating","fights, of the sudden\noutbreaks that would fill this or that part of the settlement with\nsmoke, flame, the noise of shots and shrieks. Villages were burnt, men\nwere dragged into the Rajah's stockade to be killed or tortured for the\ncrime of trading with anybody else but himself. Only a day or two before\nJim's arrival several heads of households in the very fishing village\nthat was afterwards taken under his especial protection had been driven\nover the cliffs by a party of the Rajah's spearmen, on suspicion of\nh","him\nwith his spear to a baulk of timber like one of Stein's beetles. The\nthird man in, it seems, had been Tamb' Itam, Jim's own servant. This was\na Malay from the north, a stranger who had wandered into Patusan, and\nhad been forcibly detained by Rajah Allang as paddler of one of the\nstate boats. He had made a bolt of it at the first opportunity, and\nfinding a precarious refuge (but very little to eat) amongst the Bugis\nsett","ombay, in Calcutta, in Rangoon, in Penang, in Batavia--and in each of\nthese halting-places was just Jim the water-clerk. Afterwards, when his\nkeen perception of the Intolerable drove him away for good from seaports\nand white men, even into the virgin forest, the Malays of the jungle\nvillage, where he had elected to conceal his deplorable faculty, added a\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\none might say","strangers in their midst, some of whom, he said, were infidels and\nothers even worse--children of Satan in the guise of Moslems. It was\nreported that several of the Rajah's people amongst the listeners had\nloudly expressed their approbation. The terror amongst the common people\nwas intense. Jim, immensely pleased with his day's work, crossed the\nriver again before sunset.\n\n'As he had got the Bugis irretrievably committed to action and had made\nhimself responsible for success on his own head, he was",", I believe, on\npurely religious grounds, had incited the tribes in the interior (the\nbush-folk, as Jim himself called them) to rise, and had established\nhimself in a fortified camp on the summit of one of the twin hills. He\nhung over the town of Patusan like a hawk over a poultry-yard, but he\ndevastated the open country. Whole villages, deserted, rotted on their\nblackened posts over the banks of clear streams, dropping piecemeal into\nthe water the grass of their walls, the leaves","was getting beyond him. This was the state\nof affairs when Jim, bolting from the Rajah's stockade, appeared before\nthe chief of the Bugis, produced the ring, and was received, in a manner\nof speaking, into the heart of the community.'\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 26\n\n\n'Doramin was one of the most remarkable men of his race I had ever seen.\nHis bulk for a Malay was immense, but he did not look merely fat; he\nlooked imposing, monumental. This motionless body, clad in rich stuffs","\npowder in Patusan.\" She caught him by the arm, and, pointing at the\nhouse, \"Call him out,\" she whispered, trembling.\n\n'Tamb' Itam ran up the steps. His master was sleeping. \"It is I, Tamb'\nItam,\" he cried at the door, \"with tidings that cannot wait.\" He saw\nJim turn over on the pillow and open his eyes, and he burst out at\nonce. \"This, Tuan, is a day of evil, an accursed day.\" His master raised\nhimself on his elbow to","up. \"Why do you stand here?\" he asked\nvery red-faced. \"Waste no time.\" Tamb' Itam did not move. \"Forgive me,\nTuan, but . . . but,\" he began to stammer. \"What?\" cried his master\naloud, looking terrible, leaning forward with his hands gripping the\nedge of the bed. \"It is not safe for thy servant to go out amongst the\npeople,\" said Tamb' Itam, after hesitating a moment.\n\n'Then Jim understood. He had retreated from one world, for a small\nm","'Kassim disliked Doramin and his Bugis very much, but he hated the new\norder of things still more. It had occurred to him that these whites,\ntogether with the Rajah's followers, could attack and defeat the\nBugis before Jim's return. Then, he reasoned, general defection of\nthe townsfolk was sure to follow, and the reign of the white man who\nprotected poor people would be over. Afterwards the new allies could be\ndealt with. They would have no friends. The fellow was perfectly able to\nperceive the difference","one of the men as a Malay,\napproaching in the dusk, perhaps might have been.\n\n'Cornelius didn't go away after delivering the paper. Brown was sitting\nup over a tiny fire; all the others were lying down. \"I could tell you\nsomething you would like to know,\" Cornelius mumbled crossly. Brown paid\nno attention. \"You did not kill him,\" went on the other, \"and what do\nyou get for it? You might have had money from the Rajah, besides the\nloot of all the Bugis houses, and","\n'Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing; but to them, as to\nmany of us, the blessing came heralded by terrors. So many generations\nhad been released since the last white man had visited the river that\nthe very tradition had been lost. The appearance of the being that\ndescended upon them and demanded inflexibly to be taken up to Patusan\nwas discomposing; his insistence was alarming; his generosity more than\nsuspicious. It was an unheard-of request. There was no precedent. What\nw","only now and then uttering a word or two that would make the other\njump and writhe with the sting. Jim told me these scenes were terrible.\nIt was indeed a strange thing to come upon in a wilderness. The\nendlessness of such a subtly cruel situation was appalling--if you think\nof it. The respectable Cornelius (Inchi 'Nelyus the Malays called him,\nwith a grimace that meant many things) was a much-disappointed man. I\ndon't know what he had expected would be done for him in consideration\nof","man\nwas sure of to-morrow, the edifice raised by Jim's hands, seemed on that\nevening ready to collapse into a ruin reeking with blood. The poorer\nfolk were already taking to the bush or flying up the river. A good many\nof the upper class judged it necessary to go and pay their court to the\nRajah. The Rajah's youths jostled them rudely. Old Tunku Allang, almost\nout of his mind with fear and indecision, either kept a sullen silence\nor abused them violently","were burning, inland on the outskirts of the town where\nsmall parties of men kept guard in the fields. Tuan Jim gave his orders\nand was obeyed. Last of all they went to the Rajah's stockade, which a\ndetachment of Jim's people manned on that night. The old Rajah had fled\nearly in the morning with most of his women to a small house he had\nnear a jungle village on a tributary stream. Kassim, left behind, had\nattended the council with his air of diligent activity to explain away\n","As you may say Lord Jim.\" \"What is\nhe? Where does he come from?\" inquired Brown. \"What sort of man is he?\nIs he an Englishman?\" \"Yes, yes, he's an Englishman. I am an Englishman\ntoo. From Malacca. He is a fool. All you have to do is to kill him and\nthen you are king here. Everything belongs to him,\" explained Cornelius.\n\"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\"\ncommented Brown half aloud. \"No, no. The proper","headman and his son-in-law. They landed\nand walked up to us on the white sand, lean, dark-brown as if dried\nin smoke, with ashy patches on the skin of their naked shoulders\nand breasts. Their heads were bound in dirty but carefully folded\nheadkerchiefs, and the old man began at once to state a complaint,\nvoluble, stretching a lank arm, screwing up at Jim his old bleared eyes\nconfidently. The Rajah's people would not leave them alone; there had\nbeen some trouble about a lot of","broke up he was heard outside accosting this and that deputing chief,\nand speaking in a loud, gratified tone of the Rajah's property being\nprotected in the Rajah's absence.\n\n'About ten or so Jim's men marched in. The stockade commanded the mouth\nof the creek, and Jim meant to remain there till Brown had passed below.\nA small fire was lit on the flat, grassy point outside the wall of\nstakes, and Tamb' Itam placed a little folding-stool for his master. Jim\ntold him to"],["In\nfact, he was extremely proud of it.\n\n'It comes to me now that I had, on the whole, seen very little of her.\nWhat I remember best is the even, olive pallor of her complexion, and\nthe intense blue-black gleams of her hair, flowing abundantly from under\na small crimson cap she wore far back on her shapely head. Her movements\nwere free, assured, and she blushed a dusky red. While Jim and I were\ntalking, she would come and go with rapid glances at us, leaving on her","first who withdraws his\narm or turns his head is a dead man,\" he said. \"March!\" They stepped out\ntogether, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing\nwhite gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light.\nErect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the\nonly sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. \"Stop!\"\ncried Jim.\n\n'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on","separate her fingers. Jim, bending\nover her, looked earnestly upon her face, and all at once ran to the\nlanding-stage. Tamb' Itam followed him, but turning his head, he saw\nthat she had struggled up to her feet. She ran after them a few steps,\nthen fell down heavily on her knees. \"Tuan! Tuan!\" called Tamb' Itam,\n\"look back;\" but Jim was already in a canoe, standing up paddle in hand.\nHe did not look back. Tamb' Itam had just time to scramble in after\n","ear, and evidently I had given him food for thought. Strangely enough,\non the evening of that very day (which was my last in Patusan) I was\nonce more confronted with the same question, with the unanswerable why\nof Jim's fate. And this brings me to the story of his love.\n\n'I suppose you think it is a story that you can imagine for yourselves.\nWe have heard so many such stories, and the majority of us don't believe\nthem to be stories of love at all. For the most part we look upon them","advancing with alacrity. He did not know what\nhis master meant, but as soon as Jim made a movement the girl started\ntoo and walked down into the open space. It seems that no one else of\nthe people of the house was in sight. She tottered slightly, and about\nhalf-way down called out to Jim, who had apparently resumed his peaceful\ncontemplation of the river. He turned round, setting his back against\nthe gun. \"Will you fight?\" she cried. \"There is nothing to fight for,\"\nhe said; \"nothing is lost.\" Saying","\nThen I am sure she understood much--not everything--the fear mostly, it\nseems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in the sense of a\nprecious gem--jewel. Pretty, isn't it? But he was capable of anything.\nHe was equal to his fortune, as he--after all--must have been equal to\nhis misfortune. Jewel he called her; and he would say this as he might\nhave said \"Jane,\" don't you know--with a marital, homelike, peaceful\neffect. I heard the name","from a dark source, and we see Jim amongst\nthem, mostly through Tamb' Itam's eyes. The girl's eyes had watched him\ntoo, but her life is too much entwined with his: there is her passion,\nher wonder, her anger, and, above all, her fear and her unforgiving\nlove. Of the faithful servant, uncomprehending as the rest of them, it\nis the fidelity alone that comes into play; a fidelity and a belief in\nhis lord so strong that even amazement is subdued to a sort","firm glance and his ironic friendliness; the girl, absorbed in her\nfrightened, suspicious adoration; Tamb' Itam, surly and faithful;\nCornelius, leaning his forehead against the fence under the moonlight--I\nam certain of them. They exist as if under an enchanter's wand. But the\nfigure round which all these are grouped--that one lives, and I am not\ncertain of him. No magician's wand can immobilise him under my eyes. He\nis one of us.\n\n'Jim, as","dejectedly in the direction of the river. He was\nnow leaving his new friends; he accepted the disappointing course of\nevents with a sulky obstinacy which seemed to draw more together his\nlittle yellow old face; and as he went down he glanced askant here and\nthere, never giving up his fixed idea.\n\n'Henceforth events move fast without a check, flowing from the very\nhearts of men like a stream from a dark source, and we see Jim amongst\nthem, mostly through Tamb' Itam's eyes. The girl's eyes had watched him","blushed a dusky red. While Jim and I were\ntalking, she would come and go with rapid glances at us, leaving on her\npassage an impression of grace and charm and a distinct suggestion of\nwatchfulness. Her manner presented a curious combination of shyness and\naudacity. Every pretty smile was succeeded swiftly by a look of silent,\nrepressed anxiety, as if put to flight by the recollection of some\nabiding danger. At times she would sit down with us and, with her soft\ncheek dimpled by the knuckles of her little hand,","the instant, with one long shriek, all the women of the household\nbegan to wail together; they mourned with shrill cries; the sun\nwas setting, and in the intervals of screamed lamentations the high\nsing-song voices of two old men intoning the Koran chanted alone.\n\n'About this time Jim, leaning on a gun-carriage, looked at the river,\nand turned his back on the house; and the girl, in the doorway, panting\nas if she had run herself to a standstill, was looking at him across","till now alone\nin a house that even in this steaming climate could be considered as too\nbig for one man. I have had him to live with me for some time past. It\nseems I haven't made a mistake.\" It seemed to me on reading this letter\nthat my friend had found in his heart more than tolerance for Jim--that\nthere were the beginnings of active liking. Of course he stated his\ngrounds in a characteristic way. For one thing, Jim kept his freshness\nin the climate. Had he been a girl--my friend wrote--one could have\nsaid","quickly, \"You were to be set\nupon while you slept.\" Jim tells me he experienced a sense of deception.\nIt was the old story. He was weary of these attempts upon his life. He\nhad had his fill of these alarms. He was sick of them. He assured me he\nwas angry with the girl for deceiving him. He had followed her under the\nimpression that it was she who wanted his help, and now he had half\na mind to turn on his heel and go back in disgust. \"Do you know,\" he\ncommented profoundly, \"I","must be young--he\nsighed deeply--and insensible to the seductions of love. He shook his\nhead sceptically. But such a woman seemed to be actually in existence.\nHe had been told of a tall girl, whom the white man treated with great\nrespect and care, and who never went forth from the house unattended.\nPeople said the white man could be seen with her almost any day; they\nwalked side by side, openly, he holding her arm under his--pressed to\nhis side--thus--in a most extraordinary way. This might be a lie",", the barrier of forest, the\nsolitude and the turmoil round these two lonely lives, and every word\nspoken between them penetrated with sad meaning. There must have\nbeen confidences, not so much of fact, I suppose, as of innermost\nfeelings--regrets--fears--warnings, no doubt: warnings that the younger\ndid not fully understand till the elder was dead--and Jim came along.\nThen I am sure she understood much--not everything--the fear mostly, it\nseems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in","skippers to take it there) did\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cornelius within an\ninch of his life; on the other hand, the scenes were of so painful\na character, so abominable, that his impulse would be to get out of\nearshot, in order to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,\nspeechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a stony,\ndesperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and say","abiding danger. At times she would sit down with us and, with her soft\ncheek dimpled by the knuckles of her little hand, she would listen\nto our talk; her big clear eyes would remain fastened on our lips, as\nthough each pronounced word had a visible shape. Her mother had taught\nher to read and write; she had learned a good bit of English from\nJim, and she spoke it most amusingly, with his own clipping, boyish\nintonation. Her tenderness hovered over him like a flutter of wings. She\nlived so completely","His--if I may say so--his caustic placidity,\nand, at the same time, his intelligent sympathy with Jim's aspirations,\nappealed to me. I seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If\nJim took the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In fact, Jim\nthe leader was a captive in every sense. The land, the people, the\nfriendship, the love, were like the jealous guardians of his body.\nEvery day added a link to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt\nconvinced of","long time ago; the neighbours' buffaloes\nwould pace in the morning across the open space, snorting profoundly,\nwithout haste; the very jungle was invading it already. Jim and the girl\nstopped in the rank grass. The light in which they stood made a dense\nblackness all round, and only above their heads there was an opulent\nglitter of stars. He told me it was a beautiful night--quite cool, with\na little stir of breeze from the river. It seems he noticed its friendly\nbeauty. Remember this is a love story","good wages and as much humouring\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\n\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\nwas"],["As you may say Lord Jim.\" \"What is\nhe? Where does he come from?\" inquired Brown. \"What sort of man is he?\nIs he an Englishman?\" \"Yes, yes, he's an Englishman. I am an Englishman\ntoo. From Malacca. He is a fool. All you have to do is to kill him and\nthen you are king here. Everything belongs to him,\" explained Cornelius.\n\"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\"\ncommented Brown half aloud. \"No, no. The proper","the night. Doramin, struggling to\nkeep his feet, made with his two supporters a swaying, tottering group;\nhis little eyes stared with an expression of mad pain, of rage, with\na ferocious glitter, which the bystanders noticed; and then, while Jim\nstood stiffened and with bared head in the light of torches, looking him\nstraight in the face, he clung heavily with his left arm round the neck\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\nfriend through the chest.\n\n'The crowd","from his fist held off,\na little above his head. A cloth wound tight round his loins seemed\ndazzlingly white on his bronze skin; his naked body glistened as if wet.\n\n'Jim noted all this. He told me he was experiencing a feeling of\nunutterable relief, of vengeful elation. He held his shot, he says,\ndeliberately. He held it for the tenth part of a second, for three\nstrides of the man--an unconscionable time. He held it for the pleasure\nof saying to himself,","white boat, lying high and\ndry, showed him up; the creek was no more than seven yards wide in that\nplace, and there happened to be a man crouching in the bush on the other\nbank.\n\n'He was a Bugis of Tondano only lately come to Patusan, and a relation\nof the man shot in the afternoon. That famous long shot had indeed\nappalled the beholders. The man in utter security had been struck down,\nin full view of his friends, dropping with a joke on his lips, and they\nseemed to see in","round the neck\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\nfriend through the chest.\n\n'The crowd, which had fallen apart behind Jim as soon as Doramin had\nraised his hand, rushed tumultuously forward after the shot. They say\nthat the white man sent right and left at all those faces a proud and\nunflinching glance. Then with his hand over his lips he fell forward,\ndead.\n\n'And that's the end. He passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart,\nforgotten","\"No!\" shouted Jim in\na passion. \"I have not, and I don't intend to. I am going to live here,\nin Patusan.\" \"You shall d-d-die h-h-here,\" answered Cornelius,\nstill shaking violently, and in a sort of expiring voice. The whole\nperformance was so absurd and provoking that Jim didn't know whether he\nought to be amused or angry. \"Not till I have seen you tucked away,\nyou bet,\" he called out, exasperated yet ready to laugh. Half seriously\n","place surroundings of an Eastern roadstead, I saw his form\npass by--appealing--significant--under a cloud--perfectly silent. Which\nis as it should be. It was for me, with all the sympathy of which I was\ncapable, to seek fit words for his meaning. He was 'one of us'.\n\nJ.C.\n\n1917.\n\n\nLORD JIM\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 1\n\n\nHe was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he\nadvanced straight at you with","My dear Marlow,\" he said, \"I feel\nthat if I go straight nothing can touch me. Indeed I do. Now you have\nbeen long enough here to have a good look round--and, frankly, don't\nyou think I am pretty safe? It all depends upon me, and, by Jove! I have\nlots of confidence in myself. The worst thing he could do would be to\nkill me, I suppose. I don't think for a moment he would. He couldn't,\nyou know--not if I were myself to hand him a loaded rifle for","to command there\nhimself. A distribution of powder, bullets, and percussion-caps was made\nimmediately under the girl's supervision. Several messengers were to be\ndispatched in different directions after Jim, whose exact whereabouts\nwere unknown. These men started at dawn, but before that time Kassim had\nmanaged to open communications with the besieged Brown.\n\n'That accomplished diplomatist and confidant of the Rajah, on leaving\nthe fort to go back to his master, took into his boat Cornelius, whom he\nfound slinking",", 'Give Tamb' Itam something to eat'\"--when\nhis master put his feet to the ground and looked at him with such a\ndiscomposed face that the words remained in his throat.\n\n'\"Speak out,\" said Jim. \"Is he dead?\" \"May you live long,\" cried Tamb'\nItam. \"It was a most cruel treachery. He ran out at the first shots and\nfell.\" . . . His master walked to the window and with his fist struck\nat the shutter. The room was made light; and then in a steady voice, but\n","Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war--in a corner?\nand the fellow had been killed cleanly, shot through the chest, not like\nthat poor devil of his lying now in the creek. They had to listen to him\ndying for six hours, with his entrails torn with slugs. At any rate this\nwas a life for a life. . . . And all this was said with the weariness,\nwith the recklessness of a man spurred on and","view, cursing and yelling, \"Aim low! aim low!\"\n\n'Tamb' Itam says that, as for him, he understood at the first volley\nwhat had happened. Though untouched he fell down and lay as if dead,\nbut with his eyes open. At the sound of the first shots Dain Waris,\nreclining on the couch, jumped up and ran out upon the open shore, just\nin time to receive a bullet in his forehead at the second discharge.\nTamb' Itam saw him fling his arms wide open before he fell.","That man there seemed to be aware of his\nhopeless difficulty. Jim looked at him, then turned away resolutely, as\nafter a final parting.\n\nAnd later on, many times, in distant parts of the world, Marlow showed\nhimself willing to remember Jim, to remember him at length, in detail\nand audibly.\n\nPerhaps it would be after dinner, on a verandah draped in motionless\nfoliage and crowned with flowers, in the deep dusk speckled by fiery\ncigar-ends. The elongated bulk of each","seen. He called him Tuan\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at","ieftain,\" said Jim, \"with his\nlittle fierce eyes--a pair of immense flintlock pistols on his knees.\nMagnificent things, ebony, silver-mounted, with beautiful locks and\na calibre like an old blunderbuss. A present from Stein, it seems--in\nexchange for that ring, you know. Used to belong to good old McNeil. God\nonly knows how _he_ came by them. There he sat, moving neither hand nor\nfoot, a flame of dry brushwood behind him, and lots of people rushing\n",",\nto the very disastrous last, she showed an extraordinary martial ardour.\nIt was to her that Dain Waris had gone at once at the first intelligence\nof danger, for you must know that Jim was the only one in Patusan who\npossessed a store of gunpowder. Stein, with whom he had kept up intimate\nrelations by letters, had obtained from the Dutch Government a special\nauthorisation to export five hundred kegs of it to Patusan. The\npowder-magazine was a small hut of rough logs covered entirely with\nearth,","shall see what a fool he is.\" Brown was incredulous. \"You\nshall see; you shall see,\" repeated Cornelius. \"He is not afraid--not\nafraid of anything. He will come and order you to leave his people\nalone. Everybody must leave his people alone. He is like a little child.\nHe will come to you straight.\" Alas! he knew Jim well--that \"mean little\nskunk,\" as Brown called him to me. \"Yes, certainly,\" he pursued with\nardour, \"and then, captain, you tell that tall man with a gun to","\n\n'The explosion in that confined space was stunning. He stepped back a\npace. He saw the man jerk his head up, fling his arms forward, and drop\nthe kriss. He ascertained afterwards that he had shot him through the\nmouth, a little upwards, the bullet coming out high at the back of the\nskull. With the impetus of his rush the man drove straight on, his face\nsuddenly gaping disfigured, with his hands open before him gropingly, as\nthough blinded, and landed with terrific violence on his forehead,","\nbother about stray arrows. Upon my word, he was too unsuspecting; he was\nnot fair game. I was glad that my missile had been thrown away,--that he\nhad not even heard the twang of the bow.\n\n'Of course he could not know at the time the man was dead. The next\nminute--his last on board--was crowded with a tumult of events and\nsensations which beat about him like the sea upon a rock. I use the\nsimile advisedly, because from his relation I am forced to believe\nhe had preserved","ing in his own fashion upon\nthe events of the last three years. Brown, who, apparently indifferent\nand gazing away, listened with attention to every word, could not make\nout clearly what sort of man this Jim could be. \"What's his name?\nJim! Jim! That's not enough for a man's name.\" \"They call him,\" said\nCornelius scornfully, \"Tuan Jim here. As you may say Lord Jim.\" \"What is\nhe? Where does he come from?\" inquired Brown. \"What sort of man is he?"],["good wages and as much humouring\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\n\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\nwas","detected the soft spot, the place of decay, the\ndetermination to lounge safely through existence.\n\nTo Jim that gossiping crowd, viewed as seamen, seemed at first more\nunsubstantial than so many shadows. But at length he found a fascination\nin the sight of those men, in their appearance of doing so well on\nsuch a small allowance of danger and toil. In time, beside the original\ndisdain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna","suddenly the chief engineer rushed again at Jim.\n\n'\"Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw your only chance away? Come\nand help, man! Man! Look there--look!\"\n\n'And at last Jim looked astern where the other pointed with maniacal\ninsistence. He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already\none-third of the sky. You know how these squalls come up there about\nthat time of the year. First you see a darkening of the horizon--no\nmore; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall. A straight","the midst of\ngrass-plots, flower-beds, and fir-trees, with an orchard at the back,\na paved stable-yard to the left, and the sloping glass of greenhouses\ntacked along a wall of bricks. The living had belonged to the family for\ngenerations; but Jim was one of five sons, and when after a course of\nlight holiday literature his vocation for the sea had declared itself,\nhe was sent at once to a 'training-ship for officers of the mercantile\nmarine.'\n\nHe learned there","Seas were getting too hot to hold gentlemen of his\nkidney. Clearly he must have shifted the scene of his operations farther\nwest, because a year later he plays an incredibly audacious, but not a\nvery profitable part, in a serio-comic business in Manila Bay, in which\na peculating governor and an absconding treasurer are the principal\nfigures; thereafter he seems to have hung around the Philippines in his\nrotten schooner battling with un adverse fortune, till at last, running\nhis appointed course, he sails into Jim's","\"Oh! you--you--\" I began, and had to cast about for a suitable\nword, but before I became aware that there was no name that would just\ndo, he was gone. I heard outside Egstrom's deep gentle voice saying\ncheerily, \"That's the Sarah W. Granger, Jimmy. You must manage to be\nfirst aboard\"; and directly Blake struck in, screaming after the manner\nof an outraged cockatoo, \"Tell the captain we've got some of his mail\nhere. That'll fetch him. D'ye hear, M",". \"Blake's a little cad, but Egstrom's\nall right.\" He stood up quickly, and walking with measured steps to a\ntripod telescope standing in the window and pointed at the roadstead,\nhe applied his eye to it. \"There's that ship which has been becalmed\noutside all the morning has got a breeze now and is coming in,\" he\nremarked patiently; \"I must go and board.\" We shook hands in silence,\nand he turned to go. \"Jim!\" I cried. He looked round with his hand on\nthe","ide business and to the captains of ships\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\nwas anxious that it should not be pronounced. His incognito, which had\nas many holes as a sieve, was not meant to hide a personality but a\nfact. When the fact broke through the incognito he would leave\nsuddenly the seaport where he happened to be at the time and go to\nanother--generally farther east. He kept to seaports because he was a\nseaman in exile from the sea,","ain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna.\n\nThe Patna was a local steamer as old as the hills, lean like a\ngreyhound, and eaten up with rust worse than a condemned water-tank. She\nwas owned by a Chinaman, chartered by an Arab, and commanded by a sort\nof renegade New South Wales German, very anxious to curse publicly\nhis native country, but who, apparently on the strength of Bismarck's",", if you wanted ever so much. We've\ngot a steamer.\" \"You've got the ghost of a steamer,\" I said. \"Good\nenough for a start--there's no superior nonsense about us. Is there,\nCaptain Robinson?\" \"No! no! no!\" croaked the old man without lifting\nhis eyes, and the senile tremble of his head became almost fierce with\ndetermination. \"I understand you know that young chap,\" said Chester,\nwith a nod at the street from which Jim had disappeared long ago. \"He's\nbe","an instant after the\npassage of the ship, subsided splashing gently, calmed down at last\ninto the circular stillness of water and sky with the black speck of the\nmoving hull remaining everlastingly in its centre.\n\nJim on the bridge was penetrated by the great certitude of unbounded\nsafety and peace that could be read on the silent aspect of nature like\nthe certitude of fostering love upon the placid tenderness of a mother's\nface. Below the roof of awnings, surrendered to the wisdom of white men\n","ating enthusiastically with a Parsee firm for an\nold, brig-rigged, sea-anachronism of ninety horse-power. We had met and\nspoken together several times. He looked knowingly after Jim. \"Takes\nit to heart?\" he asked scornfully. \"Very much,\" I said. \"Then he's no\ngood,\" he opined. \"What's all the to-do about? A bit of ass's skin. That\nnever yet made a man. You must see things exactly as they are--if you\ndon't, you may","er of the Patna had turned up in a more or less destitute state,\nand got a temporary job of looking after the machinery of the mill. \"I\ncouldn't stand the familiarity of the little beast,\" Jim wrote from a\nseaport seven hundred miles south of the place where he should have been\nin clover. \"I am now for the time with Egstrom & Blake, ship-chandlers,\nas their--well--runner, to call the thing by its right name. For\nreference I gave them your name, which they know of course, and if you","like a naked ship's\nspar floating in the pool of a sheltered dock. 'How steady she goes,'\nthought Jim with wonder, with something like gratitude for this high\npeace of sea and sky. At such times his thoughts would be full of\nvalorous deeds: he loved these dreams and the success of his imaginary\nachievements. They were the best parts of life, its secret truth, its\nhidden reality. They had a gorgeous virility, the charm of vagueness,\nthey passed before him with an heroic tread; they carried his soul away\nwith them","his\nrotten schooner battling with un adverse fortune, till at last, running\nhis appointed course, he sails into Jim's history, a blind accomplice of\nthe Dark Powers.\n\n'His tale goes that when a Spanish patrol cutter captured him he was\nsimply trying to run a few guns for the insurgents. If so, then I can't\nunderstand what he was doing off the south coast of Mindanao. My belief,\nhowever, is that he was blackmailing the native villages along the\ncoast. The principal thing is",", and\nwith a raised hand checking the exclamation on my lips.\n\n'Then, while the half-caste, bursting with importance, shouted his\norders, while the yards swung creaking and the heavy boom came surging\nover, Jim and I, alone as it were, to leeward of the mainsail, clasped\neach other's hands and exchanged the last hurried words. My heart was\nfreed from that dull resentment which had existed side by side with\ninterest in his fate. The absurd chatter of the half-caste had given\nmore reality","went on the old chap, in great perturbation, and squashing something\nin the corner of his eye with the end of a thumb as broad as a spatula.\n\"You would think, sir, he had jumped overboard only to give an unlucky\nman a last show to get on. What with the shock of him going in this\nawful rash way, and thinking myself a made man by that chance, I was\nnearly off my chump for a week. But no fear. The captain of the Pelion\nwas shifted into the Ossa--came aboard in Shanghai","shovel, the violent slam of a\nfurnace-door, exploded brutally, as if the men handling the mysterious\nthings below had their breasts full of fierce anger: while the slim high\nhull of the steamer went on evenly ahead, without a sway of her bare\nmasts, cleaving continuously the great calm of the waters under the\ninaccessible serenity of the sky.\n\nJim paced athwart, and his footsteps in the vast silence were loud to\nhis own ears, as if echoed by the watchful stars: his eyes,","in my ship, and we had a longish\npassage. It was pitiful to see how he shrank within himself. A seaman,\neven if a mere passenger, takes an interest in a ship, and looks at\nthe sea-life around him with the critical enjoyment of a painter,\nfor instance, looking at another man's work. In every sense of the\nexpression he is \"on deck\"; but my Jim, for the most part, skulked down\nbelow as though he had been a stowaway. He infected me so that I avoided\nspeaking on professional matters","aged cockatoo, \"Tell the captain we've got some of his mail\nhere. That'll fetch him. D'ye hear, Mister What's-your-name?\" And there\nwas Jim answering Egstrom with something boyish in his tone. \"All right.\nI'll make a race of it.\" He seemed to take refuge in the boat-sailing\npart of that sorry business.\n\n'I did not see him again that trip, but on my next (I had a six months'\ncharter) I went up to the store. Ten yards away from"],[". The cutter\ncould be seen in the falling darkness under the spell of tide and wind,\nthat for a moment held her bound, and tossing abreast of the ship.\nA yelling voice in her reached him faintly: 'Keep stroke, you young\nwhelps, if you want to save anybody! Keep stroke!' And suddenly she\nlifted high her bow, and, leaping with raised oars over a wave, broke\nthe spell cast upon her by the wind and tide.\n\nJim felt his shoulder gripped firmly. 'Too late, youngster.' The captain\n","batter your head for\nyou from these boats.\"\n\n'He wrung his hands, ignored, at Jim's elbow. The skipper kept up a\nnervous shuffle in one place and mumbled, \"Hammer! hammer! Mein Gott!\nGet a hammer.\"\n\n'The little engineer whimpered like a child, but, broken arm and all,\nhe turned out the least craven of the lot as it seems, and, actually,\nmustered enough pluck to run an errand to the engine-room. No trifle, it\nmust be owned","At it they\nwent, as if trying to drive me overboard with the noise! . . . 'I wonder\nyou had pluck enough to jump. You ain't wanted here. If I had known who\nit was, I would have tipped you over--you skunk! What have you done with\nthe other? Where did you get the pluck to jump--you coward? What's to\nprevent us three from firing you overboard?' . . . They were out of\nbreath; the shower passed away upon the sea. Then nothing. There was\nnothing round the","er, he reported, bound south with a cargo of Java sugar, had\nsprung a bad leak and sank under his feet. He and his companions were\nthe survivors of a crew of six. The two died on board the steamer which\nrescued them. Brown lived to be seen by me, and I can testify that he\nhad played his part to the last.\n\n'It seems, however, that in going away they had neglected to cast off\nCornelius's canoe. Cornelius himself Brown had let go at the beginning\nof the shooting, with a kick for","suddenly the chief engineer rushed again at Jim.\n\n'\"Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw your only chance away? Come\nand help, man! Man! Look there--look!\"\n\n'And at last Jim looked astern where the other pointed with maniacal\ninsistence. He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already\none-third of the sky. You know how these squalls come up there about\nthat time of the year. First you see a darkening of the horizon--no\nmore; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall. A straight","the spell cast upon her by the wind and tide.\n\nJim felt his shoulder gripped firmly. 'Too late, youngster.' The captain\nof the ship laid a restraining hand on that boy, who seemed on the\npoint of leaping overboard, and Jim looked up with the pain of conscious\ndefeat in his eyes. The captain smiled sympathetically. 'Better luck\nnext time. This will teach you to be smart.'\n\nA shrill cheer greeted the cutter. She came dancing back half full of\nwater, and with two exhausted men washing about on her bottom","separate her fingers. Jim, bending\nover her, looked earnestly upon her face, and all at once ran to the\nlanding-stage. Tamb' Itam followed him, but turning his head, he saw\nthat she had struggled up to her feet. She ran after them a few steps,\nthen fell down heavily on her knees. \"Tuan! Tuan!\" called Tamb' Itam,\n\"look back;\" but Jim was already in a canoe, standing up paddle in hand.\nHe did not look back. Tamb' Itam had just time to scramble in after\n",", and, actually,\nmustered enough pluck to run an errand to the engine-room. No trifle, it\nmust be owned in fairness to him. Jim told me he darted desperate looks\nlike a cornered man, gave one low wail, and dashed off. He was back\ninstantly clambering, hammer in hand, and without a pause flung himself\nat the bolt. The others gave up Jim at once and ran off to assist.\nHe heard the tap, tap of the hammer, the sound of the released chock\nfalling over. The boat","which he began again. He wanted it over. He was severely left\nalone, and he formulated in his head this address to the ship in a\ntone of imprecation, while at the same time he enjoyed the privilege of\nwitnessing scenes--as far as I can judge--of low comedy. They were still\nat that bolt. The skipper was ordering, \"Get under and try to lift\"; and\nthe others naturally shirked. You understand that to be squeezed flat\nunder the keel of a boat wasn't a desirable position to be caught in if\nthe ship went","it might have struck the officers of the\nAvondale that there was \"something fishy\" in the affair; but of course\nthey would keep their doubts to themselves. They had picked up the\ncaptain, the mate, and two engineers of the steamer Patna sunk at sea,\nand that, very properly, was enough for them. I did not ask Jim about\nthe nature of his feelings during the ten days he spent on board. From\nthe way he narrated that part I was at liberty to infer he was partly\nstunned by the discovery he had made--the discovery about himself","There was not a glimmer--not a glimmer,\"\nhe protested mournfully. \"Don't you understand that if there had been,\nyou would not have seen me here? You see me--and you doubt.\"\n\n'I shook my head negatively. This question of the lights being lost\nsight of when the boat could not have been more than a quarter of a mile\nfrom the ship was a matter for much discussion. Jim stuck to it that\nthere was nothing to be seen after the first shower had cleared away;\nand the others had affirmed the same thing to the officers","him in a boat-cloak and took him off as quick as they could,\nwith a dark night coming on, the weather threatening, and the ship\nfiring recall guns every five minutes. Three weeks afterwards he was as\nwell as ever. He didn't allow any fuss that was made on shore to upset\nhim; he just shut his lips tight, and let people screech. It was bad\nenough to have lost his ship, and all he was worth besides, without\npaying attention to the hard names they called him. That's the man for\nme.\" He lifted","exactly\nat the same distance astern of the ship, caught up with her at noon,\npouring the concentrated fire of his rays on the pious purposes of the\nmen, glided past on his descent, and sank mysteriously into the sea\nevening after evening, preserving the same distance ahead of her\nadvancing bows. The five whites on board lived amidships, isolated from\nthe human cargo. The awnings covered the deck with a white roof from\nstem to stern, and a faint hum, a low murmur of sad voices, alone\nrevealed the presence","an instant after the\npassage of the ship, subsided splashing gently, calmed down at last\ninto the circular stillness of water and sky with the black speck of the\nmoving hull remaining everlastingly in its centre.\n\nJim on the bridge was penetrated by the great certitude of unbounded\nsafety and peace that could be read on the silent aspect of nature like\nthe certitude of fostering love upon the placid tenderness of a mother's\nface. Below the roof of awnings, surrendered to the wisdom of white men\n","'t! Only I am one of them fearless fellows . . .'\n\nHe let go the rail and made ample gestures as if demonstrating in\nthe air the shape and extent of his valour; his thin voice darted in\nprolonged squeaks upon the sea, he tiptoed back and forth for the better\nemphasis of utterance, and suddenly pitched down head-first as though he\nhad been clubbed from behind. He said 'Damn!' as he tumbled; an instant\nof silence followed upon his screeching: Jim and the skip",", and\nwith a raised hand checking the exclamation on my lips.\n\n'Then, while the half-caste, bursting with importance, shouted his\norders, while the yards swung creaking and the heavy boom came surging\nover, Jim and I, alone as it were, to leeward of the mainsail, clasped\neach other's hands and exchanged the last hurried words. My heart was\nfreed from that dull resentment which had existed side by side with\ninterest in his fate. The absurd chatter of the half-caste had given\nmore reality","good wages and as much humouring\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\n\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\nwas","have\nsimply howled like an animal. I was asking myself when I would wake up.\nThey urged me aloud to come aft and hear quietly what the skipper had to\nsay. We were sure to be picked up before the evening--right in the track\nof all the Canal traffic; there was smoke to the north-west now.\n\n'\"It gave me an awful shock to see this faint, faint blur, this low\ntrail of brown mist through which you could see the boundary of sea and\nsky. I called out to them that I could hear very well where I was. The","We shall have to fight.\" \"Fight! What\nfor?\" he asked. \"For our lives.\" \"I have no life,\" he said. Tamb' Itam\nheard a cry from the girl at the door. \"Who knows?\" said Tamb' Itam.\n\"By audacity and cunning we may even escape. There is much fear in men's\nhearts too.\" He went out, thinking vaguely of boats and of open sea,\nleaving Jim and the girl together.\n\n'I haven't the heart to set down here such glimpses as she had","seemed possessed of some mysterious theory of defence.\n\n'So these two lascars stuck to the helm of that ship without\nsteerage-way, where death would have found them if such had been their\ndestiny. The whites did not give them half a glance, had probably\nforgotten their existence. Assuredly Jim did not remember it. He\nremembered he could do nothing; he could do nothing, now he was alone.\nThere was nothing to do but to sink with the ship. No use making a\ndisturbance about it. Was there? He waited upstanding"],["along the walls the\ncourt peons, buttoned tight in long white coats, flitted rapidly to and\nfro, running on bare toes, red-sashed, red turban on head, as noiseless\nas ghosts, and on the alert like so many retrievers.\n\nJim's eyes, wandering in the intervals of his answers, rested upon a\nwhite man who sat apart from the others, with his face worn and clouded,\nbut with quiet eyes that glanced straight, interested and clear. Jim\nanswered another question and was tempted to cry out","took as a tribute to the evident sincerity of my\nmanner and of my tone. We faced each other. In the court the assault\ncase was proceeding. I caught the words: \"Well--buffalo--stick--in the\ngreatness of my fear. . . .\"\n\n'\"What did you mean by staring at me all the morning?\" said Jim at last.\nHe looked up and looked down again. \"Did you expect us all to sit with\ndowncast eyes out of regard for your susceptibilities?\" I retorted\nsharply. I was not going to submit me","day. The\nwhite men began to troop out at once. Jim had been told to stand down\nsome time before, and was able to leave amongst the first. I saw his\nbroad shoulders and his head outlined in the light of the door, and\nwhile I made my way slowly out talking with some one--some stranger who\nhad addressed me casually--I could see him from within the court-room\nresting both elbows on the balustrade of the verandah and turning his\nback on the small stream of people trickling down the few steps. There\nwas a murmur of","became aware I was\nbeing held up, so to speak, as if in a wood. The verandah was empty by\nthen, the noise and movement in court had ceased: a great silence fell\nupon the building, in which, somewhere far within, an oriental voice\nbegan to whine abjectly. The dog, in the very act of trying to sneak in\nat the door, sat down hurriedly to hunt for fleas.\n\n'\"Did you speak to me?\" asked Jim very low, and bending forward, not so\nmuch towards me but at me","A month or so afterwards, when Jim, in answer to pointed questions,\ntried to tell honestly the truth of this experience, he said, speaking\nof the ship: 'She went over whatever it was as easy as a snake crawling\nover a stick.' The illustration was good: the questions were aiming at\nfacts, and the official Inquiry was being held in the police court of an\nEastern port. He stood elevated in the witness-box, with burning cheeks\nin a cool lofty room: the big framework of punkahs moved gently to and\nfro high above his","ages. They stopped him at last. A silence fell upon\nthe court,--a silence that remained unbroken for at least a minute, and\npassed gently into a deep murmur. This episode was the sensation of\nthe second day's proceedings--affecting all the audience, affecting\neverybody except Jim, who was sitting moodily at the end of the first\nbench, and never looked up at this extraordinary and damning witness\nthat seemed possessed of some mysterious theory of defence.\n\n'So these two lascars stuck to the helm of that ship without\nsteerage-","\nstood still, and when Jim passed me on his way to the gate, I caught at\nhis arm and detained him. The look he gave discomposed me, as though I\nhad been responsible for his state he looked at me as if I had been the\nembodied evil of life. \"It's all over,\" I stammered. \"Yes,\" he said\nthickly. \"And now let no man . . .\" He jerked his arm out of my grasp. I\nwatched his back as he went away. It was a long street, and he remained\nin sight","imagined he was hopeless.\nThen it was that our glances met. They met, and the look he gave me was\ndiscouraging of any intention I might have had to speak to him. Upon\neither hypothesis--insolence or despair--I felt I could be of no use to\nhim. This was the second day of the proceedings. Very soon after that\nexchange of glances the inquiry was adjourned again to the next day. The\nwhite men began to troop out at once. Jim had been told to stand down\nsome time before, and was able to leave amongst","interruptions, the deliberations\nupon Jim's fate went on night and day.\n\n'Meanwhile he wandered about the courtyard, shunned by some, glared at\nby others, but watched by all, and practically at the mercy of the first\ncasual ragamuffin with a chopper, in there. He took possession of a\nsmall tumble-down shed to sleep in; the effluvia of filth and rotten\nmatter incommoded him greatly: it seems he had not lost his appetite\nthough, because--he told me--","less it had for its object the killing of a donkeyman and the bringing\nof worse than death upon Jim, appeared an utterly aimless piece of\ndevilry. This view occurring to me took off my attention. For a time I\nwas aware of the magistrate's voice as a sound merely; but in a moment\nit shaped itself into distinct words . . . \"in utter disregard of their\nplain duty,\" it said. The next sentence escaped me somehow, and\nthen . . . \"abandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property\nconfided to their charge\"",", one\ndidn't care who else went--three, thirty, three hundred people\"--it was\nas if a demon had been whispering advice in his ear. \"I made him wince,\"\nboasted Brown to me. \"He very soon left off coming the righteous over\nme. He just stood there with nothing to say, and looking as black as\nthunder--not at me--on the ground.\" He asked Jim whether he had nothing\nfishy in his life to remember that he was so damnedly hard upon a man\ntrying to get out of a deadly hole by the","his voice a little, said with a slow laugh, \"Look at that\nwretched cur,\" and directly afterwards we became separated by a lot of\npeople pushing in. I stood back for a moment against the wall while the\nstranger managed to get down the steps and disappeared. I saw Jim spin\nround. He made a step forward and barred my way. We were alone; he\nglared at me with an air of stubborn resolution. I became aware I was\nbeing held up, so to speak, as if in a wood. The verandah was empty by\nthen, the noise and","\nthe force of the blow?' asked the assessor sitting to the left. He had\na thin horseshoe beard, salient cheek-bones, and with both elbows on\nthe desk clasped his rugged hands before his face, looking at Jim with\nthoughtful blue eyes; the other, a heavy, scornful man, thrown back in\nhis seat, his left arm extended full length, drummed delicately with his\nfinger-tips on a blotting-pad: in the middle the magistrate upright in\nthe roomy arm-chair, his","Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war--in a corner?\nand the fellow had been killed cleanly, shot through the chest, not like\nthat poor devil of his lying now in the creek. They had to listen to him\ndying for six hours, with his entrails torn with slugs. At any rate this\nwas a life for a life. . . . And all this was said with the weariness,\nwith the recklessness of a man spurred on and","good wages and as much humouring\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\n\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\nwas","had nothing\nfishy in his life to remember that he was so damnedly hard upon a man\ntrying to get out of a deadly hole by the first means that came to\nhand--and so on, and so on. And there ran through the rough talk a\nvein of subtle reference to their common blood, an assumption of common\nexperience; a sickening suggestion of common guilt, of secret knowledge\nthat was like a bond of their minds and of their hearts.\n\n'At last Brown threw himself down full length and watched Jim out of\nthe corners of his eyes. Jim on his side of","broke up he was heard outside accosting this and that deputing chief,\nand speaking in a loud, gratified tone of the Rajah's property being\nprotected in the Rajah's absence.\n\n'About ten or so Jim's men marched in. The stockade commanded the mouth\nof the creek, and Jim meant to remain there till Brown had passed below.\nA small fire was lit on the flat, grassy point outside the wall of\nstakes, and Tamb' Itam placed a little folding-stool for his master. Jim\ntold him to","closed, the right staring stupid and glassy, he hung\nhis big head over the chart and scratched his ribs sleepily. There was\nsomething obscene in the sight of his naked flesh. His bared breast\nglistened soft and greasy as though he had sweated out his fat in his\nsleep. He pronounced a professional remark in a voice harsh and dead,\nresembling the rasping sound of a wood-file on the edge of a plank; the\nfold of his double chin hung like a bag triced up close under the hinge\nof his jaw. Jim started","--it is said--even jumped down to the\nground--fifteen feet, I should judge--and broke his leg. The royal\ngovernor of Patusan had bizarre mannerisms, and one of them was to\nintroduce boastful rhapsodies into every arduous discussion, when,\ngetting gradually excited, he would end by flying off his perch with a\nkriss in his hand. But, barring such interruptions, the deliberations\nupon Jim's fate went on night and day.\n\n'Meanwhile he wandered about the cour","seen. He called him Tuan\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at"],["er of the Patna had turned up in a more or less destitute state,\nand got a temporary job of looking after the machinery of the mill. \"I\ncouldn't stand the familiarity of the little beast,\" Jim wrote from a\nseaport seven hundred miles south of the place where he should have been\nin clover. \"I am now for the time with Egstrom & Blake, ship-chandlers,\nas their--well--runner, to call the thing by its right name. For\nreference I gave them your name, which they know of course, and if you","'t have been drunk--was he? Such a quiet, soft-spoken\nchap too--blush like a girl when he came on board. . . .' I tell you,\nCaptain Marlow, nobody had a chance against us with a strange ship when\nJim was out. The other ship-chandlers just kept their old customers, and\n. . .\"\n\n'Egstrom appeared overcome with emotion.\n\n'\"Why, sir--it seemed as though he wouldn't mind going a hundred miles\nout to sea in an old shoe to nab a ship for the","good wages and as much humouring\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\n\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\nwas","and it was directed apparently as much at himself as at\nanybody else. He was spotlessly neat, apparelled in immaculate white\nfrom shoes to hat, and in the various Eastern ports where he got his\nliving as ship-chandler's water-clerk he was very popular.\n\nA water-clerk need not pass an examination in anything under the sun,\nbut he must have Ability in the abstract and demonstrate it practically.\nHis work consists in racing under sail, steam, or oars against other\nwater-clerks for any ship about to anchor","Charley here would call one\nof my rational transactions,--and in Samarang I had seen something\nof Jim. He was then working for De Jongh, on my recommendation.\nWater-clerk. \"My representative afloat,\" as De Jongh called him. You\ncan't imagine a mode of life more barren of consolation, less capable of\nbeing invested with a spark of glamour--unless it be the business of an\ninsurance canvasser. Little Bob Stanton--Charley here knew him well--had\ngone through that experience. The same who","ombay, in Calcutta, in Rangoon, in Penang, in Batavia--and in each of\nthese halting-places was just Jim the water-clerk. Afterwards, when his\nkeen perception of the Intolerable drove him away for good from seaports\nand white men, even into the virgin forest, the Malays of the jungle\nvillage, where he had elected to conceal his deplorable faculty, added a\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\none might say","seen. He called him Tuan\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at","woman, and the jollity of a boon\ncompanion. Later on the bill is sent in. It is a beautiful and humane\noccupation. Therefore good water-clerks are scarce. When a water-clerk\nwho possesses Ability in the abstract has also the advantage of having\nbeen brought up to the sea, he is worth to his employer a lot of money\nand some humouring. Jim had always good wages and as much humouring\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\ningratitude he would",", if you wanted ever so much. We've\ngot a steamer.\" \"You've got the ghost of a steamer,\" I said. \"Good\nenough for a start--there's no superior nonsense about us. Is there,\nCaptain Robinson?\" \"No! no! no!\" croaked the old man without lifting\nhis eyes, and the senile tremble of his head became almost fierce with\ndetermination. \"I understand you know that young chap,\" said Chester,\nwith a nod at the street from which Jim had disappeared long ago. \"He's\nbe","friend. I was trebly pleased--at Jim's shaping so well, at the\ntone of the letter, at my own cleverness. Evidently I had known what\nI was doing. I had read characters aright, and so on. And what if\nsomething unexpected and wonderful were to come of it? That evening,\nreposing in a deck-chair under the shade of my own poop awning (it\nwas in Hong-Kong harbour), I laid on Jim's behalf the first stone of a\ncastle in Spain.\n\n'I made a trip",", and\nwith a raised hand checking the exclamation on my lips.\n\n'Then, while the half-caste, bursting with importance, shouted his\norders, while the yards swung creaking and the heavy boom came surging\nover, Jim and I, alone as it were, to leeward of the mainsail, clasped\neach other's hands and exchanged the last hurried words. My heart was\nfreed from that dull resentment which had existed side by side with\ninterest in his fate. The absurd chatter of the half-caste had given\nmore reality","with a reputation for eccentricity, and owned\na rice-mill) wrote to me, and judging, from the warmth of my\nrecommendation, that I would like to hear, enlarged a little upon Jim's\nperfections. These were apparently of a quiet and effective sort.\n\"Not having been able so far to find more in my heart than a resigned\ntoleration for any individual of my kind, I have lived till now alone\nin a house that even in this steaming climate could be considered as too\nbig for one man. I have had him to live with","the tails of his coat blown hard against his legs.\n\n'I sat down again alone and discouraged--discouraged about Jim's case.\nIf you wonder that after more than three years it had preserved its\nactuality, you must know that I had seen him only very lately. I had\ncome straight from Samarang, where I had loaded a cargo for Sydney: an\nutterly uninteresting bit of business,--what Charley here would call one\nof my rational transactions,--and in Samarang I had seen something\nof Jim. He was then working for De","detected the soft spot, the place of decay, the\ndetermination to lounge safely through existence.\n\nTo Jim that gossiping crowd, viewed as seamen, seemed at first more\nunsubstantial than so many shadows. But at length he found a fascination\nin the sight of those men, in their appearance of doing so well on\nsuch a small allowance of danger and toil. In time, beside the original\ndisdain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna","him\nwith his spear to a baulk of timber like one of Stein's beetles. The\nthird man in, it seems, had been Tamb' Itam, Jim's own servant. This was\na Malay from the north, a stranger who had wandered into Patusan, and\nhad been forcibly detained by Rajah Allang as paddler of one of the\nstate boats. He had made a bolt of it at the first opportunity, and\nfinding a precarious refuge (but very little to eat) amongst the Bugis\nsett","before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at the\nphenomenon. Moreover, all the glory was in his family. His son and his\nson-in-law had paddled; but they were only youths without experience,\nwho did not notice the speed of the canoe till he pointed out to them\nthe amazing fact.\n\n'Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing; but to them, as to\nmany of us, the blessing came heralded","the midst of\ngrass-plots, flower-beds, and fir-trees, with an orchard at the back,\na paved stable-yard to the left, and the sloping glass of greenhouses\ntacked along a wall of bricks. The living had belonged to the family for\ngenerations; but Jim was one of five sons, and when after a course of\nlight holiday literature his vocation for the sea had declared itself,\nhe was sent at once to a 'training-ship for officers of the mercantile\nmarine.'\n\nHe learned there","iness. She left the room, and\nhe followed her; in the passage they disturbed an old hag who did the\ncasual cooking of the household, though she was so decrepit as to be\nhardly able to understand human speech. She got up and hobbled behind\nthem, mumbling toothlessly. On the verandah a hammock of sail-cloth,\nbelonging to Cornelius, swayed lightly to the touch of Jim's elbow. It\nwas empty.\n\n'The Patusan establishment, like all the posts of Stein's Tr","ating enthusiastically with a Parsee firm for an\nold, brig-rigged, sea-anachronism of ninety horse-power. We had met and\nspoken together several times. He looked knowingly after Jim. \"Takes\nit to heart?\" he asked scornfully. \"Very much,\" I said. \"Then he's no\ngood,\" he opined. \"What's all the to-do about? A bit of ass's skin. That\nnever yet made a man. You must see things exactly as they are--if you\ndon't, you may","plorable faculty, added a\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\none might say--Lord Jim.\n\nOriginally he came from a parsonage. Many commanders of fine\nmerchant-ships come from these abodes of piety and peace. Jim's father\npossessed such certain knowledge of the Unknowable as made for the\nrighteousness of people in cottages without disturbing the ease of mind\nof those whom an unerring Providence enables to live in mansions. The\nlittle"],["into them for\nthe sake of better morality and--and--well--the greater profit, too.\nIt was at breakfast of the morning following our talk about Jim that he\nmentioned the place, after I had quoted poor Brierly's remark: \"Let him\ncreep twenty feet underground and stay there.\" He looked up at me with\ninterested attention, as though I had been a rare insect. \"This could be\ndone, too,\" he remarked, sipping his coffee. \"Bury him in some sort,\"\nI explained. \"One doesn't like to do it of course","practical. We avoided pronouncing Jim's name\nas though we had tried to keep flesh and blood out of our discussion,\nor he were nothing but an erring spirit, a suffering and nameless shade.\n\"Na!\" said Stein, rising. \"To-night you sleep here, and in the morning\nwe shall do something practical--practical. . . .\" He lit a two-branched\ncandlestick and led the way. We passed through empty dark rooms,\nescorted by gleams from the lights Stein carried. They glided along the\nwaxed floors","woman had died, Stein was disposed to try another\nagent there. The Portuguese, whose name was Cornelius, considered\nhimself a very deserving but ill-used person, entitled by his abilities\nto a better position. This man Jim would have to relieve. \"But I don't\nthink he will go away from the place,\" remarked Stein. \"That has nothing\nto do with me. It was only for the sake of the woman that I . . . But as\nI think there is a daughter left, I shall let him, if he likes to stay,\nkeep the old","as an astronomer, I should fancy, would strongly object to being\ntransported into a distant heavenly body, where, parted from his earthly\nemoluments, he would be bewildered by the view of an unfamiliar heavens.\nHowever, neither heavenly bodies nor astronomers have anything to do\nwith Patusan. It was Jim who went there. I only meant you to understand\nthat had Stein arranged to send him into a star of the fifth magnitude\nthe change could not have been greater. He left his earthly failings\nbehind him and what sort of reputation he had","would be for the outside world as\nthough he had never existed. He would have nothing but the soles of his\ntwo feet to stand upon, and he would have first to find his ground at\nthat. \"Never existed--that's it, by Jove,\" he murmured to himself. His\neyes, fastened upon my lips, sparkled. If he had thoroughly understood\nthe conditions, I concluded, he had better jump into the first gharry he\ncould see and drive on to Stein's house for his final instructions. He\nflung out of the room before I had fairly finished",".\nStein had been the means of saving that chap's life on some occasion;\npurely by accident, Mr. Stein had said, but he--Jim--had his own opinion\nabout that. Mr. Stein was just the man to look out for such accidents.\nNo matter. Accident or purpose, this would serve his turn immensely.\nHoped to goodness the jolly old beggar had not gone off the hooks\nmeantime. Mr. Stein could not tell. There had been no news for more\nthan a year; they were kicking up no end of an all","till now alone\nin a house that even in this steaming climate could be considered as too\nbig for one man. I have had him to live with me for some time past. It\nseems I haven't made a mistake.\" It seemed to me on reading this letter\nthat my friend had found in his heart more than tolerance for Jim--that\nthere were the beginnings of active liking. Of course he stated his\ngrounds in a characteristic way. For one thing, Jim kept his freshness\nin the climate. Had he been a girl--my friend wrote--one could have\nsaid",", and his hinted intentions were\nso generous that I begged him most earnestly to keep them secret for\na time. I felt that no consideration of personal advantage should be\nallowed to influence Jim; that not even the risk of such influence\nshould be run. We had to deal with another sort of reality. He wanted\na refuge, and a refuge at the cost of danger should be offered\nhim--nothing more.\n\n'Upon every other point I was perfectly frank with him, and I even (as\nI believed at the time) exaggerated the danger of the undertaking. As\n","anybody from the British Isles. His late benefactor, it is true, was a\nScot--even to the length of being called Alexander McNeil--and Jim came\nfrom a long way south of the Tweed; but at the distance of six or\nseven thousand miles Great Britain, though never diminished, looks\nforeshortened enough even to its own children to rob such details of\ntheir importance. Stein was excusable, and his hinted intentions were\nso generous that I begged him most earnestly to keep them secret for\na time. I felt that no consideration","\non Stein's verandah, and who was amongst them, told me that the boat,\nshaving the low point close, seemed for a moment to grow big and hang\nover it like a mountain. \"If you think it worth your while to wait a\nday outside,\" called out Jim, \"I'll try to send you down something--a\nbullock, some yams--what I can.\" The shadow went on moving. \"Yes. Do,\"\nsaid a voice, blank and muffled out of the fog. Not one of the many\nattentive listeners understood what the","forgive him,\" I concluded, and my own voice\nseemed to me muffled, lost in un irresponsive deaf immensity. \"We all\nwant to be forgiven,\" I added after a while.\n\n'\"What have I done?\" she asked with her lips only.\n\n'\"You always mistrusted him,\" I said.\n\n'\"He was like the others,\" she pronounced slowly.\n\n'\"Not like the others,\" I protested, but she continued evenly, without\nany feeling--\n\n'\"He was false.\" And suddenly Stein broke in. \"No! no! no","ieftain,\" said Jim, \"with his\nlittle fierce eyes--a pair of immense flintlock pistols on his knees.\nMagnificent things, ebony, silver-mounted, with beautiful locks and\na calibre like an old blunderbuss. A present from Stein, it seems--in\nexchange for that ring, you know. Used to belong to good old McNeil. God\nonly knows how _he_ came by them. There he sat, moving neither hand nor\nfoot, a flame of dry brushwood behind him, and lots of people rushing\n","skippers to take it there) did\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cornelius within an\ninch of his life; on the other hand, the scenes were of so painful\na character, so abominable, that his impulse would be to get out of\nearshot, in order to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,\nspeechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a stony,\ndesperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and say","self.\n\n'He shook his head slowly, and afterwards looked at me with a patient\nand inquiring glance. It was a shame, he said. There we were sitting\nand talking like two boys, instead of putting our heads together to find\nsomething practical--a practical remedy--for the evil--for the great\nevil--he repeated, with a humorous and indulgent smile. For all that,\nour talk did not grow more practical. We avoided pronouncing Jim's name\nas though we had tried to keep flesh and blood out of our discussion,\nor he were nothing","each taking\na little of your substance, each carrying away some crumb of that belief\nin a few simple notions you must cling to if you want to live decently\nand would like to die easy!\n\n'This has nothing to do with Jim, directly; only he was outwardly so\ntypical of that good, stupid kind we like to feel marching right and\nleft of us in life, of the kind that is not disturbed by the vagaries of\nintelligence and the perversions of--of nerves, let us say. He was the\nkind of fellow you would,","would naturally\nfind his way to Stein's house. I returned his greeting and passed on. At\nthe door of Stein's room I came upon another Malay in whom I recognised\nTamb' Itam.\n\n'I asked him at once what he was doing there; it occurred to me that\nJim might have come on a visit. I own I was pleased and excited at the\nthought. Tamb' Itam looked as if he did not know what to say. \"Is Tuan\nJim inside?\" I asked impatiently. \"No,\" he mumbled, hanging his","nothing else for it now--if\nJim cared a pin for his life. What's eighty dollars? A trifle. An\ninsignificant sum. While he, Cornelius, who had to remain behind, was\nabsolutely courting death by this proof of devotion to Mr. Stein's young\nfriend. The sight of his abject grimacing was--Jim told me--very hard\nto bear: he clutched at his hair, beat his breast, rocked himself to\nand fro with his hands pressed to his stomach, and actually pretended to\ns","It was an act of intelligent volition. Jim between two questions forgot\nhimself so far as to find leisure for a thought. This fellow--ran the\nthought--looks at me as though he could see somebody or something past\nmy shoulder. He had come across that man before--in the street perhaps.\nHe was positive he had never spoken to him. For days, for many days,\nhe had spoken to no one, but had held silent, incoherent, and endless\nconverse with himself, like a prisoner alone in his cell or like a\nwayfarer lost in a wild",",\" he remarked, sipping his coffee. \"Bury him in some sort,\"\nI explained. \"One doesn't like to do it of course, but it would be the\nbest thing, seeing what he is.\" \"Yes; he is young,\" Stein mused. \"The\nyoungest human being now in existence,\" I affirmed. \"Schon. There's\nPatusan,\" he went on in the same tone. . . . \"And the woman is dead\nnow,\" he added incomprehensibly.\n\n'Of course I don't know that story; I","he did not know what to say. \"Is Tuan\nJim inside?\" I asked impatiently. \"No,\" he mumbled, hanging his head\nfor a moment, and then with sudden earnestness, \"He would not fight. He\nwould not fight,\" he repeated twice. As he seemed unable to say anything\nelse, I pushed him aside and went in.\n\n'Stein, tall and stooping, stood alone in the middle of the room between\nthe rows of butterfly cases. \"Ach! is it you, my friend?\" he said\nsadly,"],["woman that I . . . But as\nI think there is a daughter left, I shall let him, if he likes to stay,\nkeep the old house.\"\n\n'Patusan is a remote district of a native-ruled state, and the chief\nsettlement bears the same name. At a point on the river about forty\nmiles from the sea, where the first houses come into view, there can\nbe seen rising above the level of the forests the summits of two steep\nhills very close together, and separated by what looks like a deep\nfissure, the","\n'Perhaps he had heard of Patusan--or perhaps he just only happened to\nsee the name written in small letters on the chart--probably that of a\nlargish village up a river in a native state, perfectly defenceless, far\nfrom the beaten tracks of the sea and from the ends of submarine cables.\nHe had done that kind of thing before--in the way of business;\nand this now was an absolute necessity, a question of life and\ndeath--or rather of liberty. Of liberty! He was sure to get\nprovisions--bullocks--","casts, enraged with hunger and hunted by\nfear. Brown's idea was to make for Madagascar, where he expected, on\ngrounds not altogether illusory, to sell the schooner in Tamatave, and\nno questions asked, or perhaps obtain some more or less forged papers\nfor her. Yet before he could face the long passage across the Indian\nOcean food was wanted--water too.\n\n'Perhaps he had heard of Patusan--or perhaps he just only happened to\nsee the name written in small letters on the chart--pro","aberrations of its\nlight--a sort of scientific scandal-mongering. Thus with Patusan. It\nwas referred to knowingly in the inner government circles in Batavia,\nespecially as to its irregularities and aberrations, and it was known\nby name to some few, very few, in the mercantile world. Nobody, however,\nhad been there, and I suspect no one desired to go there in person,\njust as an astronomer, I should fancy, would strongly object to being\ntransported into a distant heavenly body, where, parted from his earthly","after a silence occupied in the careful lighting of a cigar. 'It does\nnot matter; there's many a heavenly body in the lot crowding upon us of\na night that mankind had never heard of, it being outside the sphere\nof its activities and of no earthly importance to anybody but to the\nastronomers who are paid to talk learnedly about its composition,\nweight, path--the irregularities of its conduct, the aberrations of its\nlight--a sort of scientific scandal-mongering. Thus with Patusan. It\nwas referred to knowingly in the","ation over a barricade of felled trees (there wasn't\na week without some fight in Patusan at that time), burst through a\nfence into a maize-patch, where a scared boy flung a stick at him,\nblundered upon a path, and ran all at once into the arms of several\nstartled men. He just had breath enough to gasp out, \"Doramin! Doramin!\"\nHe remembers being half-carried, half-rushed to the top of the slope,\nand in a vast enclosure with palms and fruit trees","irty miles of forest shut it off from the sight of\nan indifferent world, and the noise of the white surf along the coast\noverpowered the voice of fame. The stream of civilisation, as if divided\non a headland a hundred miles north of Patusan, branches east and\nsouth-east, leaving its plains and valleys, its old trees and its old\nmankind, neglected and isolated, such as an insignificant and crumbling\nislet between the two branches of a mighty, devouring stream. You find\nthe name of the country pretty","farers. She had been carried off to Patusan before her eyes\nwere open. She had grown up there; she had seen nothing, she had known\nnothing, she had no conception of anything. I ask myself whether she\nwere sure that anything else existed. What notions she may have formed\nof the outside world is to me inconceivable: all that she knew of its\ninhabitants were a betrayed woman and a sinister pantaloon. Her lover\nalso came to her from there, gifted with irresistible seductions; but\nwhat would become","in some commercial house in\nthe Dutch colonies. I gathered from Stein that this man was an\nunsatisfactory person in more ways than one, all being more or less\nindefinite and offensive. It was solely for his wife's sake that Stein\nhad appointed him manager of Stein & Co.'s trading post in Patusan;\nbut commercially the arrangement was not a success, at any rate for\nthe firm, and now the woman had died, Stein was disposed to try another\nagent there. The Portuguese, whose name was Cornelius, considered\nhimself a very des","raised arm. \"Sleep well. And to-morrow we must do something\npractical--practical. . . .\"\n\n'Though his own room was beyond mine I saw him return the way he came.\nHe was going back to his butterflies.'\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 21\n\n\n'I don't suppose any of you have ever heard of Patusan?' Marlow resumed,\nafter a silence occupied in the careful lighting of a cigar. 'It does\nnot matter; there's many a heavenly body in the lot crow",". He traversed more\nthan half the length of the settlement. The nimbler women fled right and\nleft, the slower men just dropped whatever they had in their hands, and\nremained petrified with dropping jaws. He was a flying terror. He says\nhe noticed the little children trying to run for life, falling on their\nlittle stomachs and kicking. He swerved between two houses up a slope,\nclambered in desperation over a barricade of felled trees (there wasn't\na week without some fight in Patusan at that time), burst through a","life. I know his sort.\" He fixed me\nsteadfastly with both his eyes open, while I stood over him utterly\namazed, and asking myself whether he was mad or drunk. He perspired,\npuffed, moaning feebly, and scratching himself with such horrible\ncomposure that I could not bear the sight long enough to find out. Next\nday, talking casually with the people of the little native court of the\nplace, I discovered that a story was travelling slowly down the\ncoast about a mysterious white man in Patusan who had got hold of\nan","descent, with\nturned-out, shiny lips. I found him lying extended on his back in a cane\nchair, odiously unbuttoned, with a large green leaf of some sort on the\ntop of his steaming head, and another in his hand which he used lazily\nas a fan . . . Going to Patusan? Oh yes. Stein's Trading Company. He\nknew. Had a permission? No business of his. It was not so bad there now,\nhe remarked negligently, and, he went on drawling, \"There's some sort","\n\"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\"\ncommented Brown half aloud. \"No, no. The proper way is to kill him the\nfirst chance you get, and then you can do what you like,\" Cornelius\nwould insist earnestly. \"I have lived for many years here, and I am\ngiving you a friend's advice.\"\n\n'In such converse and in gloating over the view of Patusan, which he had\ndetermined in his mind should become his prey, Brown whiled away most\nof the afternoon","\n'Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing; but to them, as to\nmany of us, the blessing came heralded by terrors. So many generations\nhad been released since the last white man had visited the river that\nthe very tradition had been lost. The appearance of the being that\ndescended upon them and demanded inflexibly to be taken up to Patusan\nwas discomposing; his insistence was alarming; his generosity more than\nsuspicious. It was an unheard-of request. There was no precedent. What\nw",", I believe, on\npurely religious grounds, had incited the tribes in the interior (the\nbush-folk, as Jim himself called them) to rise, and had established\nhimself in a fortified camp on the summit of one of the twin hills. He\nhung over the town of Patusan like a hawk over a poultry-yard, but he\ndevastated the open country. Whole villages, deserted, rotted on their\nblackened posts over the banks of clear streams, dropping piecemeal into\nthe water the grass of their walls, the leaves","\nPatusan, with their huts and little plots of ground under the walls of\nthe stronghold. Within he would be an invincible host in himself \"The\nFort, Patusan.\" No date, as you observe. What is a number and a name to\na day of days? It is also impossible to say whom he had in his mind when\nhe seized the pen: Stein--myself--the world at large--or was this only\nthe aimless startled cry of a solitary man confronted by his fate? \"An\nawful thing has happened,\" he wrote",", at a little place on the coast about 230 miles south of Patusan\nRiver. Stein's schooner, in which I had my passage, put in there, to\ncollect some produce, and, going ashore, I found to my great surprise\nthat the wretched locality could boast of a third-class deputy-assistant\nresident, a big, fat, greasy, blinking fellow of mixed descent, with\nturned-out, shiny lips. I found him lying extended on his back in a cane\nchair, odiously unbuttoned","detailed and amazing impression of a dream.\nWhy should she fear? She knew him to be strong, true, wise, brave. He\nwas all that. Certainly. He was more. He was great--invincible--and the\nworld did not want him, it had forgotten him, it would not even know\nhim.\n\n'I stopped; the silence over Patusan was profound, and the feeble dry\nsound of a paddle striking the side of a canoe somewhere in the middle\nof the river seemed to make it infinite. \"Why?\" she murmured. I felt\nthat sort","ear, and evidently I had given him food for thought. Strangely enough,\non the evening of that very day (which was my last in Patusan) I was\nonce more confronted with the same question, with the unanswerable why\nof Jim's fate. And this brings me to the story of his love.\n\n'I suppose you think it is a story that you can imagine for yourselves.\nWe have heard so many such stories, and the majority of us don't believe\nthem to be stories of love at all. For the most part we look upon them"],["good wages and as much humouring\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\n\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\nwas","ombay, in Calcutta, in Rangoon, in Penang, in Batavia--and in each of\nthese halting-places was just Jim the water-clerk. Afterwards, when his\nkeen perception of the Intolerable drove him away for good from seaports\nand white men, even into the virgin forest, the Malays of the jungle\nvillage, where he had elected to conceal his deplorable faculty, added a\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\none might say","As you may say Lord Jim.\" \"What is\nhe? Where does he come from?\" inquired Brown. \"What sort of man is he?\nIs he an Englishman?\" \"Yes, yes, he's an Englishman. I am an Englishman\ntoo. From Malacca. He is a fool. All you have to do is to kill him and\nthen you are king here. Everything belongs to him,\" explained Cornelius.\n\"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\"\ncommented Brown half aloud. \"No, no. The proper","seen. He called him Tuan\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at","'s wisdom. If he could only obtain a\npromise! One word would be enough! . . . His breathing silences, the\nlow rumblings of his voice, recalled the last efforts of a spent\nthunderstorm.\n\n'I tried to put the subject aside. It was difficult, for there could be\nno question that Jim had the power; in his new sphere there did not seem\nto be anything that was not his to hold or to give. But that, I repeat,\nwas nothing in comparison with the notion, which occurred to me, while I\nlistened with a show","\n\n'The defeated Sherif Ali fled the country without making another stand,\nand when the miserable hunted villagers began to crawl out of the jungle\nback to their rotting houses, it was Jim who, in consultation with Dain\nWaris, appointed the headmen. Thus he became the virtual ruler of the\nland. As to old Tunku Allang, his fears at first had known no bounds. It\nis said that at the intelligence of the successful storming of the hill\nhe flung himself, face down, on the bamboo floor of his audience-hall,\n","His--if I may say so--his caustic placidity,\nand, at the same time, his intelligent sympathy with Jim's aspirations,\nappealed to me. I seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If\nJim took the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In fact, Jim\nthe leader was a captive in every sense. The land, the people, the\nfriendship, the love, were like the jealous guardians of his body.\nEvery day added a link to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt\nconvinced of","ing in his own fashion upon\nthe events of the last three years. Brown, who, apparently indifferent\nand gazing away, listened with attention to every word, could not make\nout clearly what sort of man this Jim could be. \"What's his name?\nJim! Jim! That's not enough for a man's name.\" \"They call him,\" said\nCornelius scornfully, \"Tuan Jim here. As you may say Lord Jim.\" \"What is\nhe? Where does he come from?\" inquired Brown. \"What sort of man is he?","place surroundings of an Eastern roadstead, I saw his form\npass by--appealing--significant--under a cloud--perfectly silent. Which\nis as it should be. It was for me, with all the sympathy of which I was\ncapable, to seek fit words for his meaning. He was 'one of us'.\n\nJ.C.\n\n1917.\n\n\nLORD JIM\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 1\n\n\nHe was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he\nadvanced straight at you with","suddenly the chief engineer rushed again at Jim.\n\n'\"Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw your only chance away? Come\nand help, man! Man! Look there--look!\"\n\n'And at last Jim looked astern where the other pointed with maniacal\ninsistence. He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already\none-third of the sky. You know how these squalls come up there about\nthat time of the year. First you see a darkening of the horizon--no\nmore; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall. A straight","ide business and to the captains of ships\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\nwas anxious that it should not be pronounced. His incognito, which had\nas many holes as a sieve, was not meant to hide a personality but a\nfact. When the fact broke through the incognito he would leave\nsuddenly the seaport where he happened to be at the time and go to\nanother--generally farther east. He kept to seaports because he was a\nseaman in exile from the sea,","plorable faculty, added a\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\none might say--Lord Jim.\n\nOriginally he came from a parsonage. Many commanders of fine\nmerchant-ships come from these abodes of piety and peace. Jim's father\npossessed such certain knowledge of the Unknowable as made for the\nrighteousness of people in cottages without disturbing the ease of mind\nof those whom an unerring Providence enables to live in mansions. The\nlittle","is he different? Is he better? Is he . . .\" \"Upon my word of honour,\" I\nbroke in, \"I believe he is.\" We subdued our tones to a mysterious pitch.\nAmongst the huts of Jim's workmen (they were mostly liberated slaves\nfrom the Sherif's stockade) somebody started a shrill, drawling song.\nAcross the river a big fire (at Doramin's, I think) made a glowing\nball, completely isolated in the night. \"Is he more true?\" she murmured.\n\"Yes","--it is said--even jumped down to the\nground--fifteen feet, I should judge--and broke his leg. The royal\ngovernor of Patusan had bizarre mannerisms, and one of them was to\nintroduce boastful rhapsodies into every arduous discussion, when,\ngetting gradually excited, he would end by flying off his perch with a\nkriss in his hand. But, barring such interruptions, the deliberations\nupon Jim's fate went on night and day.\n\n'Meanwhile he wandered about the cour",", I believe, on\npurely religious grounds, had incited the tribes in the interior (the\nbush-folk, as Jim himself called them) to rise, and had established\nhimself in a fortified camp on the summit of one of the twin hills. He\nhung over the town of Patusan like a hawk over a poultry-yard, but he\ndevastated the open country. Whole villages, deserted, rotted on their\nblackened posts over the banks of clear streams, dropping piecemeal into\nthe water the grass of their walls, the leaves","\n'Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing; but to them, as to\nmany of us, the blessing came heralded by terrors. So many generations\nhad been released since the last white man had visited the river that\nthe very tradition had been lost. The appearance of the being that\ndescended upon them and demanded inflexibly to be taken up to Patusan\nwas discomposing; his insistence was alarming; his generosity more than\nsuspicious. It was an unheard-of request. There was no precedent. What\nw","and to himself\nalways. Vanity plays lurid tricks with our memory, and the truth of\nevery passion wants some pretence to make it live. Standing at the gate\nof the other world in the guise of a beggar, he had slapped this world's\nface, he had spat on it, he had thrown upon it an immensity of scorn\nand revolt at the bottom of his misdeeds. He had overcome them all--men,\nwomen, savages, traders, ruffians, missionaries--and Jim--\"that\nbeefy-faced begg","broke up he was heard outside accosting this and that deputing chief,\nand speaking in a loud, gratified tone of the Rajah's property being\nprotected in the Rajah's absence.\n\n'About ten or so Jim's men marched in. The stockade commanded the mouth\nof the creek, and Jim meant to remain there till Brown had passed below.\nA small fire was lit on the flat, grassy point outside the wall of\nstakes, and Tamb' Itam placed a little folding-stool for his master. Jim\ntold him to","watching us four dwarfs isolated on a strip of glistening sand.\n\n'\"The trouble is,\" remarked Jim moodily, \"that for generations these\nbeggars of fishermen in that village there had been considered as the\nRajah's personal slaves--and the old rip can't get it into his head that\n. . .\"\n\n'He paused. \"That you have changed all that,\" I said.\n\n'\"Yes I've changed all that,\" he muttered in a gloomy voice.\n\n'\"You have had your opportunity,\" I pursued.\n\n'\"","of him. No magician's wand can immobilise him under my eyes. He\nis one of us.\n\n'Jim, as I've told you, accompanied me on the first stage of my journey\nback to the world he had renounced, and the way at times seemed to\nlead through the very heart of untouched wilderness. The empty reaches\nsparkled under the high sun; between the high walls of vegetation the\nheat drowsed upon the water, and the boat, impelled vigorously, cut her\nway through the air that seemed to"],["advancing with alacrity. He did not know what\nhis master meant, but as soon as Jim made a movement the girl started\ntoo and walked down into the open space. It seems that no one else of\nthe people of the house was in sight. She tottered slightly, and about\nhalf-way down called out to Jim, who had apparently resumed his peaceful\ncontemplation of the river. He turned round, setting his back against\nthe gun. \"Will you fight?\" she cried. \"There is nothing to fight for,\"\nhe said; \"nothing is lost.\" Saying","His--if I may say so--his caustic placidity,\nand, at the same time, his intelligent sympathy with Jim's aspirations,\nappealed to me. I seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If\nJim took the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In fact, Jim\nthe leader was a captive in every sense. The land, the people, the\nfriendship, the love, were like the jealous guardians of his body.\nEvery day added a link to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt\nconvinced of","ear, and evidently I had given him food for thought. Strangely enough,\non the evening of that very day (which was my last in Patusan) I was\nonce more confronted with the same question, with the unanswerable why\nof Jim's fate. And this brings me to the story of his love.\n\n'I suppose you think it is a story that you can imagine for yourselves.\nWe have heard so many such stories, and the majority of us don't believe\nthem to be stories of love at all. For the most part we look upon them","first who withdraws his\narm or turns his head is a dead man,\" he said. \"March!\" They stepped out\ntogether, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing\nwhite gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light.\nErect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the\nonly sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. \"Stop!\"\ncried Jim.\n\n'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on","loved, enjoyed, or hated; all that is\npriceless and necessary--the sunshine, the memories, the future; which\nmeans to sweep the whole precious world utterly away from his sight by\nthe simple and appalling act of taking his life.\n\nJim, disabled by a falling spar at the beginning of a week of which his\nScottish captain used to say afterwards, 'Man! it's a pairfect meeracle\nto me how she lived through it!' spent many days stretched on his back,\ndazed, battered, hopeless, and tormented as","\nThen I am sure she understood much--not everything--the fear mostly, it\nseems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in the sense of a\nprecious gem--jewel. Pretty, isn't it? But he was capable of anything.\nHe was equal to his fortune, as he--after all--must have been equal to\nhis misfortune. Jewel he called her; and he would say this as he might\nhave said \"Jane,\" don't you know--with a marital, homelike, peaceful\neffect. I heard the name","quickly, \"You were to be set\nupon while you slept.\" Jim tells me he experienced a sense of deception.\nIt was the old story. He was weary of these attempts upon his life. He\nhad had his fill of these alarms. He was sick of them. He assured me he\nwas angry with the girl for deceiving him. He had followed her under the\nimpression that it was she who wanted his help, and now he had half\na mind to turn on his heel and go back in disgust. \"Do you know,\" he\ncommented profoundly, \"I","firm glance and his ironic friendliness; the girl, absorbed in her\nfrightened, suspicious adoration; Tamb' Itam, surly and faithful;\nCornelius, leaning his forehead against the fence under the moonlight--I\nam certain of them. They exist as if under an enchanter's wand. But the\nfigure round which all these are grouped--that one lives, and I am not\ncertain of him. No magician's wand can immobilise him under my eyes. He\nis one of us.\n\n'Jim, as","separate her fingers. Jim, bending\nover her, looked earnestly upon her face, and all at once ran to the\nlanding-stage. Tamb' Itam followed him, but turning his head, he saw\nthat she had struggled up to her feet. She ran after them a few steps,\nthen fell down heavily on her knees. \"Tuan! Tuan!\" called Tamb' Itam,\n\"look back;\" but Jim was already in a canoe, standing up paddle in hand.\nHe did not look back. Tamb' Itam had just time to scramble in after\n","three budged. \"Jump!\" he thundered. The\nthree splashes made one splash, a shower flew up, black heads bobbed\nconvulsively, and disappeared; but a great blowing and spluttering went\non, growing faint, for they were diving industriously in great fear of\na parting shot. Jim turned to the girl, who had been a silent and\nattentive observer. His heart seemed suddenly to grow too big for his\nbreast and choke him in the hollow of his throat. This probably made\nhim speechless for so long, and after","skippers to take it there) did\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cornelius within an\ninch of his life; on the other hand, the scenes were of so painful\na character, so abominable, that his impulse would be to get out of\nearshot, in order to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,\nspeechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a stony,\ndesperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and say","graph cables and mail-boat\nlines, the haggard utilitarian lies of our civilisation wither and die,\nto be replaced by pure exercises of imagination, that have the futility,\noften the charm, and sometimes the deep hidden truthfulness, of works of\nart? Romance had singled Jim for its own--and that was the true part of\nthe story, which otherwise was all wrong. He did not hide his jewel. In\nfact, he was extremely proud of it.\n\n'It comes to me now that I had, on the whole, seen very little of her","good wages and as much humouring\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\n\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\nwas","No lights!\" he said in a loud, surprised\nvoice. \"What are you doing in the dark--you two?\" Next moment he caught\nsight of her, I suppose. \"Hallo, girl!\" he cried cheerily. \"Hallo, boy!\"\nshe answered at once, with amazing pluck.\n\n'This was their usual greeting to each other, and the bit of swagger she\nwould put into her rather high but sweet voice was very droll, pretty,\nand childlike. It delighted Jim greatly. This was the last occasion on\nwhich I heard them exchange this familiar","In\nfact, he was extremely proud of it.\n\n'It comes to me now that I had, on the whole, seen very little of her.\nWhat I remember best is the even, olive pallor of her complexion, and\nthe intense blue-black gleams of her hair, flowing abundantly from under\na small crimson cap she wore far back on her shapely head. Her movements\nwere free, assured, and she blushed a dusky red. While Jim and I were\ntalking, she would come and go with rapid glances at us, leaving on her","and to himself\nalways. Vanity plays lurid tricks with our memory, and the truth of\nevery passion wants some pretence to make it live. Standing at the gate\nof the other world in the guise of a beggar, he had slapped this world's\nface, he had spat on it, he had thrown upon it an immensity of scorn\nand revolt at the bottom of his misdeeds. He had overcome them all--men,\nwomen, savages, traders, ruffians, missionaries--and Jim--\"that\nbeefy-faced begg","'s wisdom. If he could only obtain a\npromise! One word would be enough! . . . His breathing silences, the\nlow rumblings of his voice, recalled the last efforts of a spent\nthunderstorm.\n\n'I tried to put the subject aside. It was difficult, for there could be\nno question that Jim had the power; in his new sphere there did not seem\nto be anything that was not his to hold or to give. But that, I repeat,\nwas nothing in comparison with the notion, which occurred to me, while I\nlistened with a show","ended, wonderful in their\ndistinct and immaterial clearness. Jim sat on the trunk of a felled\ntree, and pulling out his pipe began to smoke. A new growth of grass and\nbushes was springing up; there were traces of an earthwork under a mass\nof thorny twigs. \"It all started from here,\" he said, after a long and\nmeditative silence. On the other hill, two hundred yards across a sombre\nprecipice, I saw a line of high blackened stakes, showing here and there\nruinously--the remnants of",", the barrier of forest, the\nsolitude and the turmoil round these two lonely lives, and every word\nspoken between them penetrated with sad meaning. There must have\nbeen confidences, not so much of fact, I suppose, as of innermost\nfeelings--regrets--fears--warnings, no doubt: warnings that the younger\ndid not fully understand till the elder was dead--and Jim came along.\nThen I am sure she understood much--not everything--the fear mostly, it\nseems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in","till now alone\nin a house that even in this steaming climate could be considered as too\nbig for one man. I have had him to live with me for some time past. It\nseems I haven't made a mistake.\" It seemed to me on reading this letter\nthat my friend had found in his heart more than tolerance for Jim--that\nthere were the beginnings of active liking. Of course he stated his\ngrounds in a characteristic way. For one thing, Jim kept his freshness\nin the climate. Had he been a girl--my friend wrote--one could have\nsaid"],["Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war--in a corner?\nand the fellow had been killed cleanly, shot through the chest, not like\nthat poor devil of his lying now in the creek. They had to listen to him\ndying for six hours, with his entrails torn with slugs. At any rate this\nwas a life for a life. . . . And all this was said with the weariness,\nwith the recklessness of a man spurred on and","the night. Doramin, struggling to\nkeep his feet, made with his two supporters a swaying, tottering group;\nhis little eyes stared with an expression of mad pain, of rage, with\na ferocious glitter, which the bystanders noticed; and then, while Jim\nstood stiffened and with bared head in the light of torches, looking him\nstraight in the face, he clung heavily with his left arm round the neck\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\nfriend through the chest.\n\n'The crowd","from his fist held off,\na little above his head. A cloth wound tight round his loins seemed\ndazzlingly white on his bronze skin; his naked body glistened as if wet.\n\n'Jim noted all this. He told me he was experiencing a feeling of\nunutterable relief, of vengeful elation. He held his shot, he says,\ndeliberately. He held it for the tenth part of a second, for three\nstrides of the man--an unconscionable time. He held it for the pleasure\nof saying to himself,","way giving him the slightest chance of attaining\nhis ends--he argued in a fit of coughing. But he didn't tell Jim this.\nAs to the hardships and starvation they had gone through, these had been\nvery real; it was enough to look at his band. He made, at the sound of a\nshrill whistle, all his men appear standing in a row on the logs in full\nview, so that Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war","round the neck\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\nfriend through the chest.\n\n'The crowd, which had fallen apart behind Jim as soon as Doramin had\nraised his hand, rushed tumultuously forward after the shot. They say\nthat the white man sent right and left at all those faces a proud and\nunflinching glance. Then with his hand over his lips he fell forward,\ndead.\n\n'And that's the end. He passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart,\nforgotten","\n\n'The explosion in that confined space was stunning. He stepped back a\npace. He saw the man jerk his head up, fling his arms forward, and drop\nthe kriss. He ascertained afterwards that he had shot him through the\nmouth, a little upwards, the bullet coming out high at the back of the\nskull. With the impetus of his rush the man drove straight on, his face\nsuddenly gaping disfigured, with his hands open before him gropingly, as\nthough blinded, and landed with terrific violence on his forehead,","loved, enjoyed, or hated; all that is\npriceless and necessary--the sunshine, the memories, the future; which\nmeans to sweep the whole precious world utterly away from his sight by\nthe simple and appalling act of taking his life.\n\nJim, disabled by a falling spar at the beginning of a week of which his\nScottish captain used to say afterwards, 'Man! it's a pairfect meeracle\nto me how she lived through it!' spent many days stretched on his back,\ndazed, battered, hopeless, and tormented as","of sooty smoke from the torch, in which\nthe unswaying flame burned blood-red without a flicker. He walked in\nresolutely, striding over the dead body, and covered with his revolver\nanother naked figure outlined vaguely at the other end. As he was about\nto pull the trigger, the man threw away with force a short heavy spear,\nand squatted submissively on his hams, his back to the wall and his\nclasped hands between his legs. \"You want your life?\" Jim said. The\nother made no sound. \"How","advancing with alacrity. He did not know what\nhis master meant, but as soon as Jim made a movement the girl started\ntoo and walked down into the open space. It seems that no one else of\nthe people of the house was in sight. She tottered slightly, and about\nhalf-way down called out to Jim, who had apparently resumed his peaceful\ncontemplation of the river. He turned round, setting his back against\nthe gun. \"Will you fight?\" she cried. \"There is nothing to fight for,\"\nhe said; \"nothing is lost.\" Saying","laughter is unseemly.\nAre they not cruel, bloodthirsty robbers bent on killing?\" \"Let her be,\"\nsaid Jim, and as a silence fell suddenly, he said slowly, \"Everybody\nshall be safe.\" He entered the house before the great sigh, and the loud\nmurmurs of satisfaction, had died out.\n\n'There's no doubt his mind was made up that Brown should have his way\nclear back to the sea. His fate, revolted, was forcing his hand. He\nhad for the first time to affirm his will in the face of","nothing else for it now--if\nJim cared a pin for his life. What's eighty dollars? A trifle. An\ninsignificant sum. While he, Cornelius, who had to remain behind, was\nabsolutely courting death by this proof of devotion to Mr. Stein's young\nfriend. The sight of his abject grimacing was--Jim told me--very hard\nto bear: he clutched at his hair, beat his breast, rocked himself to\nand fro with his hands pressed to his stomach, and actually pretended to\ns","each taking\na little of your substance, each carrying away some crumb of that belief\nin a few simple notions you must cling to if you want to live decently\nand would like to die easy!\n\n'This has nothing to do with Jim, directly; only he was outwardly so\ntypical of that good, stupid kind we like to feel marching right and\nleft of us in life, of the kind that is not disturbed by the vagaries of\nintelligence and the perversions of--of nerves, let us say. He was the\nkind of fellow you would,","gaping disfigured, with his hands open before him gropingly, as\nthough blinded, and landed with terrific violence on his forehead, just\nshort of Jim's bare toes. Jim says he didn't lose the smallest detail\nof all this. He found himself calm, appeased, without rancour, without\nuneasiness, as if the death of that man had atoned for everything. The\nplace was getting very full of sooty smoke from the torch, in which\nthe unswaying flame burned blood-red without a flicker. He walked in\nresolutely","power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and\nadmired as he was, he was still one of _them_, while Jim was one of\nus. Moreover, the white man, a tower of strength in himself, was\ninvulnerable, while Dain Waris could be killed. Those unexpressed\nthoughts guided the opinions of the chief men of the town, who elected\nto assemble in Jim's fort for deliberation upon the emergency, as if\nexpecting","Suppose they say one\nthing to you, and do the other thing to me.\" He calmed down markedly. \"I\ndare say you have the power, or what's the meaning of all this talk?\" he\ncontinued. \"What did you come down here for? To pass the time of day?\"\n\n'\"Very well,\" said Jim, lifting his head suddenly after a long silence.\n\"You shall have a clear road or else a clear fight.\" He turned on his\nheel and walked away.\n\n'Brown got up at once, but he did not go up the","skippers to take it there) did\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cornelius within an\ninch of his life; on the other hand, the scenes were of so painful\na character, so abominable, that his impulse would be to get out of\nearshot, in order to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,\nspeechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a stony,\ndesperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and say","iness of his soul, that remains even for\nher who loved him best a cruel and insoluble mystery.\n\n'It is evident that he did not mistrust Brown; there was no reason to\ndoubt the story, whose truth seemed warranted by the rough frankness,\nby a sort of virile sincerity in accepting the morality and the\nconsequences of his acts. But Jim did not know the almost inconceivable\negotism of the man which made him, when resisted and foiled in his will,\nmad with the indignant and revengeful","making two deep folds down his\nsallow, leathery cheeks. He prided himself on being a dead shot. He\ndropped on one knee, and taking aim from a steady rest through the\nunlopped branches of a felled tree, fired, and at once stood up to look.\nThe man, far away, turned his head to the report, made another step\nforward, seemed to hesitate, and abruptly got down on his hands and\nknees. In the silence that fell upon the sharp crack of the rifle, the\ndead shot, keeping his eyes fixed upon the qu","\"No!\" shouted Jim in\na passion. \"I have not, and I don't intend to. I am going to live here,\nin Patusan.\" \"You shall d-d-die h-h-here,\" answered Cornelius,\nstill shaking violently, and in a sort of expiring voice. The whole\nperformance was so absurd and provoking that Jim didn't know whether he\nought to be amused or angry. \"Not till I have seen you tucked away,\nyou bet,\" he called out, exasperated yet ready to laugh. Half seriously\n","shall see what a fool he is.\" Brown was incredulous. \"You\nshall see; you shall see,\" repeated Cornelius. \"He is not afraid--not\nafraid of anything. He will come and order you to leave his people\nalone. Everybody must leave his people alone. He is like a little child.\nHe will come to you straight.\" Alas! he knew Jim well--that \"mean little\nskunk,\" as Brown called him to me. \"Yes, certainly,\" he pursued with\nardour, \"and then, captain, you tell that tall man with a gun to"],["of hate and rage\nagainst those people who dared to defend themselves. Two of his men\nhad been wounded, and he saw his retreat cut off below the town by some\nboats that had put off from Tunku Allang's stockade. There were six of\nthem, full of men. While he was thus beset he perceived the entrance of\nthe narrow creek (the same which Jim had jumped at low water). It was\nthen brim full. Steering the long-boat in, they landed, and, to make a\nlong story short, they established themselves on a","fights, of the sudden\noutbreaks that would fill this or that part of the settlement with\nsmoke, flame, the noise of shots and shrieks. Villages were burnt, men\nwere dragged into the Rajah's stockade to be killed or tortured for the\ncrime of trading with anybody else but himself. Only a day or two before\nJim's arrival several heads of households in the very fishing village\nthat was afterwards taken under his especial protection had been driven\nover the cliffs by a party of the Rajah's spearmen, on suspicion of\nh","She offered him Jim's own\nmen in her anxiety to have these intruders driven out at once. He only\nshook his head, after a glance or two at Doramin. Finally, when the\ncouncil broke up it had been decided that the houses nearest the creek\nshould be strongly occupied to obtain the command of the enemy's boat.\nThe boat itself was not to be interfered with openly, so that the\nrobbers on the hill should be tempted to embark, when a well-directed\nfire would kill most of them, no doubt. To cut","way giving him the slightest chance of attaining\nhis ends--he argued in a fit of coughing. But he didn't tell Jim this.\nAs to the hardships and starvation they had gone through, these had been\nvery real; it was enough to look at his band. He made, at the sound of a\nshrill whistle, all his men appear standing in a row on the logs in full\nview, so that Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war","'s return.\nJim had been away in the interior for more than a week, and it was Dain\nWaris who had directed the first repulse. That brave and intelligent\nyouth (\"who knew how to fight after the manner of white men\") wished to\nsettle the business off-hand, but his people were too much for him.\nHe had not Jim's racial prestige and the reputation of invincible,\nsupernatural power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and","methodical ferocity of his fighting. The storming party had come on so\nquick--Jim said--that notwithstanding the panic of the garrison, there\nwas a \"hot five minutes hand-to-hand inside that stockade, till some\nbally ass set fire to the shelters of boughs and dry grass, and we all\nhad to clear out for dear life.\"\n\n'The rout, it seems, had been complete. Doramin, waiting immovably in\nhis chair on the hillside, with the smoke of the guns spreading slowly\nabove his big head","ance, or to repulse a threatened invasion? Many\ndays elapsed before the people had ceased to look out, quaking, for\nthe return of the white men with long beards and in rags, whose exact\nrelation to their own white man they could never understand. Even for\nthose simple minds poor Jim remains under a cloud.\n\n'Doramin, alone! immense and desolate, sat in his arm-chair with the\npair of flintlock pistols on his knees, faced by a armed throng. When\nJim appeared, at somebody's exclamation,","the night. Doramin, struggling to\nkeep his feet, made with his two supporters a swaying, tottering group;\nhis little eyes stared with an expression of mad pain, of rage, with\na ferocious glitter, which the bystanders noticed; and then, while Jim\nstood stiffened and with bared head in the light of torches, looking him\nstraight in the face, he clung heavily with his left arm round the neck\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\nfriend through the chest.\n\n'The crowd","for a talk.\nTamb' Itam himself hoped there would be some fighting. \"What was it but\nthe taking of another hill?\" he exclaimed regretfully. However, in the\ntown many hoped that the rapacious strangers would be induced, by the\nsight of so many brave men making ready to fight, to go away. It would\nbe a good thing if they went away. Since Jim's arrival had been made\nknown before daylight by the gun fired from the fort and the beating of\nthe big drum there, the fear that had hung over Patusan had broken and\nsub","power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and\nadmired as he was, he was still one of _them_, while Jim was one of\nus. Moreover, the white man, a tower of strength in himself, was\ninvulnerable, while Dain Waris could be killed. Those unexpressed\nthoughts guided the opinions of the chief men of the town, who elected\nto assemble in Jim's fort for deliberation upon the emergency, as if\nexpecting","w chilling his very bones; how afraid he was he\nwould begin to shiver and shake like a leaf before the time came for\nthe advance. \"It was the slowest half-hour in my life,\" he declared.\nGradually the silent stockade came out on the sky above him. Men\nscattered all down the slope were crouching amongst the dark stones and\ndripping bushes. Dain Waris was lying flattened by his side. \"We\nlooked at each other,\" Jim said, resting a gentle hand on his friend's\nshoulder. \"He smiled",", I believe, on\npurely religious grounds, had incited the tribes in the interior (the\nbush-folk, as Jim himself called them) to rise, and had established\nhimself in a fortified camp on the summit of one of the twin hills. He\nhung over the town of Patusan like a hawk over a poultry-yard, but he\ndevastated the open country. Whole villages, deserted, rotted on their\nblackened posts over the banks of clear streams, dropping piecemeal into\nthe water the grass of their walls, the leaves","the white robbers were coming down to their\nboat. In a very short time every armed man from one end of Patusan\nto the other was on the alert, yet the banks of the river remained so\nsilent that but for the fires burning with sudden blurred flares the\ntown might have been asleep as if in peace-time. A heavy mist lay very\nlow on the water, making a sort of illusive grey light that showed\nnothing. When Brown's long-boat glided out of the creek into the\nriver, Jim was standing on the low point of land before",", and the other\nburst into an amazing noise of yells, war-cries, shouts of anger, of\nsurprise, of dismay. Jim and Dain Waris were the first to lay their\nhands on the stakes. The popular story has it that Jim with a touch\nof one finger had thrown down the gate. He was, of course, anxious\nto disclaim this achievement. The whole stockade--he would insist on\nexplaining to you--was a poor affair (Sherif Ali trusted mainly to the\ninaccessible position); and, anyway, the thing","on the hillside like ants at work. He himself on\nthat night had kept on rushing down and climbing up like a squirrel,\ndirecting, encouraging, watching all along the line. Old Doramin had\nhimself carried up the hill in his arm-chair. They put him down on the\nlevel place upon the slope, and he sat there in the light of one of the\nbig fires--\"amazing old chap--real old chieftain,\" said Jim, \"with his\nlittle fierce eyes--a pair of immense flintlock pistols on his knees.\nMagn","for some other\ngrave--struggled in his breast. From the outline the figure presented\nit seemed to him that the white man there, backed up by all the power of\nthe land, was examining his position through binoculars. Brown jumped up\non the log, throwing his arms up, the palms outwards. The coloured group\nclosed round the white man, and fell back twice before he got clear of\nthem, walking slowly alone. Brown remained standing on the log till\nJim, appearing and disappearing between the patches of thorny scrub, had\nnearly","advancing with alacrity. He did not know what\nhis master meant, but as soon as Jim made a movement the girl started\ntoo and walked down into the open space. It seems that no one else of\nthe people of the house was in sight. She tottered slightly, and about\nhalf-way down called out to Jim, who had apparently resumed his peaceful\ncontemplation of the river. He turned round, setting his back against\nthe gun. \"Will you fight?\" she cried. \"There is nothing to fight for,\"\nhe said; \"nothing is lost.\" Saying","first who withdraws his\narm or turns his head is a dead man,\" he said. \"March!\" They stepped out\ntogether, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing\nwhite gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light.\nErect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the\nonly sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. \"Stop!\"\ncried Jim.\n\n'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on","shall see what a fool he is.\" Brown was incredulous. \"You\nshall see; you shall see,\" repeated Cornelius. \"He is not afraid--not\nafraid of anything. He will come and order you to leave his people\nalone. Everybody must leave his people alone. He is like a little child.\nHe will come to you straight.\" Alas! he knew Jim well--that \"mean little\nskunk,\" as Brown called him to me. \"Yes, certainly,\" he pursued with\nardour, \"and then, captain, you tell that tall man with a gun to","Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war--in a corner?\nand the fellow had been killed cleanly, shot through the chest, not like\nthat poor devil of his lying now in the creek. They had to listen to him\ndying for six hours, with his entrails torn with slugs. At any rate this\nwas a life for a life. . . . And all this was said with the weariness,\nwith the recklessness of a man spurred on and"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"of these\\nproceedings ordained by law. He would not know where to turn, he\\nconfessed, clearly thinking aloud rather than talking to me. Certificate\\ngone, career broken, no money to get away, no work that he could obtain\\nas far as he could see. At home he could perhaps get something; but it\\nmeant going to his people for help, and that he would not do. He\\nsaw nothing for it but ship before the mast--could get perhaps a\\nquartermaster's billet in some steamer. Would do for a quartermaster.\\n\",\n \"skippers to take it there) did\\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cornelius within an\\ninch of his life; on the other hand, the scenes were of so painful\\na character, so abominable, that his impulse would be to get out of\\nearshot, in order to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,\\nspeechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a stony,\\ndesperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and say\",\n \"Seas were getting too hot to hold gentlemen of his\\nkidney. Clearly he must have shifted the scene of his operations farther\\nwest, because a year later he plays an incredibly audacious, but not a\\nvery profitable part, in a serio-comic business in Manila Bay, in which\\na peculating governor and an absconding treasurer are the principal\\nfigures; thereafter he seems to have hung around the Philippines in his\\nrotten schooner battling with un adverse fortune, till at last, running\\nhis appointed course, he sails into Jim's\",\n \"good wages and as much humouring\\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\\n\\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\\nwas\",\n \"loved, enjoyed, or hated; all that is\\npriceless and necessary--the sunshine, the memories, the future; which\\nmeans to sweep the whole precious world utterly away from his sight by\\nthe simple and appalling act of taking his life.\\n\\nJim, disabled by a falling spar at the beginning of a week of which his\\nScottish captain used to say afterwards, 'Man! it's a pairfect meeracle\\nto me how she lived through it!' spent many days stretched on his back,\\ndazed, battered, hopeless, and tormented as\",\n \"him in a boat-cloak and took him off as quick as they could,\\nwith a dark night coming on, the weather threatening, and the ship\\nfiring recall guns every five minutes. Three weeks afterwards he was as\\nwell as ever. He didn't allow any fuss that was made on shore to upset\\nhim; he just shut his lips tight, and let people screech. It was bad\\nenough to have lost his ship, and all he was worth besides, without\\npaying attention to the hard names they called him. That's the man for\\nme.\\\" He lifted\",\n \"less it had for its object the killing of a donkeyman and the bringing\\nof worse than death upon Jim, appeared an utterly aimless piece of\\ndevilry. This view occurring to me took off my attention. For a time I\\nwas aware of the magistrate's voice as a sound merely; but in a moment\\nit shaped itself into distinct words . . . \\\"in utter disregard of their\\nplain duty,\\\" it said. The next sentence escaped me somehow, and\\nthen . . . \\\"abandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property\\nconfided to their charge\\\"\",\n \"his\\nrotten schooner battling with un adverse fortune, till at last, running\\nhis appointed course, he sails into Jim's history, a blind accomplice of\\nthe Dark Powers.\\n\\n'His tale goes that when a Spanish patrol cutter captured him he was\\nsimply trying to run a few guns for the insurgents. If so, then I can't\\nunderstand what he was doing off the south coast of Mindanao. My belief,\\nhowever, is that he was blackmailing the native villages along the\\ncoast. The principal thing is\",\n \"an instant after the\\npassage of the ship, subsided splashing gently, calmed down at last\\ninto the circular stillness of water and sky with the black speck of the\\nmoving hull remaining everlastingly in its centre.\\n\\nJim on the bridge was penetrated by the great certitude of unbounded\\nsafety and peace that could be read on the silent aspect of nature like\\nthe certitude of fostering love upon the placid tenderness of a mother's\\nface. Below the roof of awnings, surrendered to the wisdom of white men\\n\",\n \"ating enthusiastically with a Parsee firm for an\\nold, brig-rigged, sea-anachronism of ninety horse-power. We had met and\\nspoken together several times. He looked knowingly after Jim. \\\"Takes\\nit to heart?\\\" he asked scornfully. \\\"Very much,\\\" I said. \\\"Then he's no\\ngood,\\\" he opined. \\\"What's all the to-do about? A bit of ass's skin. That\\nnever yet made a man. You must see things exactly as they are--if you\\ndon't, you may\",\n \"get so far--begging my way from ship to\\nship.\\\"\\n\\n'Jim said nothing to this. At last, throwing away the switch he held in\\nhis hand, he said, as if speaking to himself, \\\"I don't know whether I\\nhave the power.\\\" . . . \\\"You don't know! And you wanted me just now to\\ngive up my arms! That's good, too,\\\" cried Brown; \\\"Suppose they say one\\nthing to you, and do the other thing to me.\\\" He calmed down markedly. \\\"I\\ndare say you\",\n \"suddenly the chief engineer rushed again at Jim.\\n\\n'\\\"Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw your only chance away? Come\\nand help, man! Man! Look there--look!\\\"\\n\\n'And at last Jim looked astern where the other pointed with maniacal\\ninsistence. He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already\\none-third of the sky. You know how these squalls come up there about\\nthat time of the year. First you see a darkening of the horizon--no\\nmore; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall. A straight\",\n \"plorable faculty, added a\\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\\none might say--Lord Jim.\\n\\nOriginally he came from a parsonage. Many commanders of fine\\nmerchant-ships come from these abodes of piety and peace. Jim's father\\npossessed such certain knowledge of the Unknowable as made for the\\nrighteousness of people in cottages without disturbing the ease of mind\\nof those whom an unerring Providence enables to live in mansions. The\\nlittle\",\n \"ited, under his misbegotten name: first lieutenant in\\nthe Royal Siamese Navy. The fellow, of course, was utterly hopeless at\\nbilliards, but did not like to be beaten, I suppose. He had had enough\\nto drink to turn nasty after the sixth game, and make some scornful\\nremark at Jim's expense. Most of the people there didn't hear what\\nwas said, and those who had heard seemed to have had all precise\\nrecollection scared out of them by the appalling nature of the\\nconsequences that immediately ensued. It\",\n \"ould have served the devil himself had he made it easy\\nenough. They talked everlastingly of turns of luck: how So-and-so got\\ncharge of a boat on the coast of China--a soft thing; how this one had\\nan easy billet in Japan somewhere, and that one was doing well in the\\nSiamese navy; and in all they said--in their actions, in their looks, in\\ntheir persons--could be detected the soft spot, the place of decay, the\\ndetermination to lounge safely through existence.\\n\\nTo Jim that gossiping crowd,\",\n \"seemed possessed of some mysterious theory of defence.\\n\\n'So these two lascars stuck to the helm of that ship without\\nsteerage-way, where death would have found them if such had been their\\ndestiny. The whites did not give them half a glance, had probably\\nforgotten their existence. Assuredly Jim did not remember it. He\\nremembered he could do nothing; he could do nothing, now he was alone.\\nThere was nothing to do but to sink with the ship. No use making a\\ndisturbance about it. Was there? He waited upstanding\",\n \"he had departed from his\\nprinciples, so that his second, a weak-headed child of Wapping, what\\nwith the unexpectedness of the treat and the strength of the stuff,\\nhad become very happy, cheeky, and talkative. The fury of the New South\\nWales German was extreme; he puffed like an exhaust-pipe, and Jim,\\nfaintly amused by the scene, was impatient for the time when he could\\nget below: the last ten minutes of the watch were irritating like a\\ngun that hangs fire; those men did not belong to\",\n \"urbed by the vagaries of\\nintelligence and the perversions of--of nerves, let us say. He was the\\nkind of fellow you would, on the strength of his looks, leave in charge\\nof the deck--figuratively and professionally speaking. I say I would,\\nand I ought to know. Haven't I turned out youngsters enough in my time,\\nfor the service of the Red Rag, to the craft of the sea, to the craft\\nwhose whole secret could be expressed in one short sentence, and yet\\nmust be driven afresh every day into young heads till it\",\n \"who know nothing of indecision, much less of self-mistrust.\\nAt thirty-two he had one of the best commands going in the Eastern\\ntrade--and, what's more, he thought a lot of what he had. There was\\nnothing like it in the world, and I suppose if you had asked him\\npoint-blank he would have confessed that in his opinion there was not\\nsuch another commander. The choice had fallen upon the right man. The\\nrest of mankind that did not command the sixteen-knot steel steamer Ossa\\nwere rather poor creatures\",\n \"A month or so afterwards, when Jim, in answer to pointed questions,\\ntried to tell honestly the truth of this experience, he said, speaking\\nof the ship: 'She went over whatever it was as easy as a snake crawling\\nover a stick.' The illustration was good: the questions were aiming at\\nfacts, and the official Inquiry was being held in the police court of an\\nEastern port. He stood elevated in the witness-box, with burning cheeks\\nin a cool lofty room: the big framework of punkahs moved gently to and\\nfro high above his\"\n ],\n [\n \"before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at the\\nphenomenon. Moreover, all the glory was in his family. His son and his\\nson-in-law had paddled; but they were only youths without experience,\\nwho did not notice the speed of the canoe till he pointed out to them\\nthe amazing fact.\\n\\n'Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing; but to them, as to\\nmany of us, the blessing came heralded\",\n \"seen. He called him Tuan\\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at\",\n \"first who withdraws his\\narm or turns his head is a dead man,\\\" he said. \\\"March!\\\" They stepped out\\ntogether, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing\\nwhite gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light.\\nErect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the\\nonly sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. \\\"Stop!\\\"\\ncried Jim.\\n\\n'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on\",\n \"walking slowly alone. Brown remained standing on the log till\\nJim, appearing and disappearing between the patches of thorny scrub, had\\nnearly reached the creek; then Brown jumped off and went down to meet\\nhim on his side.\\n\\n'They met, I should think, not very far from the place, perhaps on the\\nvery spot, where Jim took the second desperate leap of his life--the\\nleap that landed him into the life of Patusan, into the trust, the love,\\nthe confidence of the people. They faced each other across the creek,\\nand with\",\n \"It was an act of intelligent volition. Jim between two questions forgot\\nhimself so far as to find leisure for a thought. This fellow--ran the\\nthought--looks at me as though he could see somebody or something past\\nmy shoulder. He had come across that man before--in the street perhaps.\\nHe was positive he had never spoken to him. For days, for many days,\\nhe had spoken to no one, but had held silent, incoherent, and endless\\nconverse with himself, like a prisoner alone in his cell or like a\\nwayfarer lost in a wild\",\n \"upon that straight\\npath. He seemed to have been puzzled by what he saw, for he interrupted\\nhimself in his narrative more than once to exclaim, \\\"He nearly slipped\\nfrom me there. I could not make him out. Who was he?\\\" And after\\nglaring at me wildly he would go on, jubilating and sneering. To me the\\nconversation of these two across the creek appears now as the deadliest\\nkind of duel on which Fate looked on with her cold-eyed knowledge of the\\nend. No, he didn't turn Jim's soul\",\n \"of him. No magician's wand can immobilise him under my eyes. He\\nis one of us.\\n\\n'Jim, as I've told you, accompanied me on the first stage of my journey\\nback to the world he had renounced, and the way at times seemed to\\nlead through the very heart of untouched wilderness. The empty reaches\\nsparkled under the high sun; between the high walls of vegetation the\\nheat drowsed upon the water, and the boat, impelled vigorously, cut her\\nway through the air that seemed to\",\n \"imagined he was hopeless.\\nThen it was that our glances met. They met, and the look he gave me was\\ndiscouraging of any intention I might have had to speak to him. Upon\\neither hypothesis--insolence or despair--I felt I could be of no use to\\nhim. This was the second day of the proceedings. Very soon after that\\nexchange of glances the inquiry was adjourned again to the next day. The\\nwhite men began to troop out at once. Jim had been told to stand down\\nsome time before, and was able to leave amongst\",\n \"assistance. He had all the advantages on his side--possession, security,\\npower; he was on the side of an overwhelming force! He was not hungry\\nand desperate, and he did not seem in the least afraid. And there was\\nsomething in the very neatness of Jim's clothes, from the white helmet\\nto the canvas leggings and the pipeclayed shoes, which in Brown's sombre\\nirritated eyes seemed to belong to things he had in the very shaping of\\nhis life condemned and flouted.\\n\\n'\\\"Who are you?\\\" asked Jim at\",\n \"dejectedly in the direction of the river. He was\\nnow leaving his new friends; he accepted the disappointing course of\\nevents with a sulky obstinacy which seemed to draw more together his\\nlittle yellow old face; and as he went down he glanced askant here and\\nthere, never giving up his fixed idea.\\n\\n'Henceforth events move fast without a check, flowing from the very\\nhearts of men like a stream from a dark source, and we see Jim amongst\\nthem, mostly through Tamb' Itam's eyes. The girl's eyes had watched him\",\n \"count. Each blade of grass has its spot on earth\\nwhence it draws its life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land\\nfrom which he draws his faith together with his life. I don't know\\nhow much Jim understood; but I know he felt, he felt confusedly but\\npowerfully, the demand of some such truth or some such illusion--I don't\\ncare how you call it, there is so little difference, and the difference\\nmeans so little. The thing is that in virtue of his feeling he mattered.\\nHe would never go home now. Not\",\n \"His--if I may say so--his caustic placidity,\\nand, at the same time, his intelligent sympathy with Jim's aspirations,\\nappealed to me. I seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If\\nJim took the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In fact, Jim\\nthe leader was a captive in every sense. The land, the people, the\\nfriendship, the love, were like the jealous guardians of his body.\\nEvery day added a link to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt\\nconvinced of\",\n \"That man there seemed to be aware of his\\nhopeless difficulty. Jim looked at him, then turned away resolutely, as\\nafter a final parting.\\n\\nAnd later on, many times, in distant parts of the world, Marlow showed\\nhimself willing to remember Jim, to remember him at length, in detail\\nand audibly.\\n\\nPerhaps it would be after dinner, on a verandah draped in motionless\\nfoliage and crowned with flowers, in the deep dusk speckled by fiery\\ncigar-ends. The elongated bulk of each\",\n \"Suppose they say one\\nthing to you, and do the other thing to me.\\\" He calmed down markedly. \\\"I\\ndare say you have the power, or what's the meaning of all this talk?\\\" he\\ncontinued. \\\"What did you come down here for? To pass the time of day?\\\"\\n\\n'\\\"Very well,\\\" said Jim, lifting his head suddenly after a long silence.\\n\\\"You shall have a clear road or else a clear fight.\\\" He turned on his\\nheel and walked away.\\n\\n'Brown got up at once, but he did not go up the\",\n \"assured me more\\nthan once that he had never found himself the worse for her advice. At\\nany rate, he was proceeding to explain his plan fully to her there and\\nthen, when she pressed his arm once, and vanished from his side. Then\\nCornelius appeared from somewhere, and, perceiving Jim, ducked sideways,\\nas though he had been shot at, and afterwards stood very still in the\\ndusk. At last he came forward prudently, like a suspicious cat. \\\"There\\nwere some fishermen there--with fish,\\\" he said in a shaky voice.\",\n \"suddenly the chief engineer rushed again at Jim.\\n\\n'\\\"Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw your only chance away? Come\\nand help, man! Man! Look there--look!\\\"\\n\\n'And at last Jim looked astern where the other pointed with maniacal\\ninsistence. He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already\\none-third of the sky. You know how these squalls come up there about\\nthat time of the year. First you see a darkening of the horizon--no\\nmore; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall. A straight\",\n \"nothing. When Brown's long-boat glided out of the creek into the\\nriver, Jim was standing on the low point of land before the Rajah's\\nstockade--on the very spot where for the first time he put his foot on\\nPatusan shore. A shadow loomed up, moving in the greyness, solitary,\\nvery bulky, and yet constantly eluding the eye. A murmur of low talking\\ncame out of it. Brown at the tiller heard Jim speak calmly: \\\"A clear\\nroad. You had better trust to the current while\",\n \"ended, wonderful in their\\ndistinct and immaterial clearness. Jim sat on the trunk of a felled\\ntree, and pulling out his pipe began to smoke. A new growth of grass and\\nbushes was springing up; there were traces of an earthwork under a mass\\nof thorny twigs. \\\"It all started from here,\\\" he said, after a long and\\nmeditative silence. On the other hill, two hundred yards across a sombre\\nprecipice, I saw a line of high blackened stakes, showing here and there\\nruinously--the remnants of\",\n \"point outside the wall of\\nstakes, and Tamb' Itam placed a little folding-stool for his master. Jim\\ntold him to try and sleep. Tamb' Itam got a mat and lay down a little\\nway off; but he could not sleep, though he knew he had to go on an\\nimportant journey before the night was out. His master walked to and fro\\nbefore the fire with bowed head and with his hands behind his back. His\\nface was sad. Whenever his master approached him Tamb' Itam pretended to\\nsleep, not wishing his master to know he had\",\n \"worn and clouded,\\nbut with quiet eyes that glanced straight, interested and clear. Jim\\nanswered another question and was tempted to cry out, 'What's the good\\nof this! what's the good!' He tapped with his foot slightly, bit his\\nlip, and looked away over the heads. He met the eyes of the white man.\\nThe glance directed at him was not the fascinated stare of the others.\\nIt was an act of intelligent volition. Jim between two questions forgot\\nhimself so far as to find leisure for a thought. This fellow--ran\"\n ],\n [\n \"good wages and as much humouring\\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\\n\\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\\nwas\",\n \"out there\\\" where he did not think himself good enough to live.\\nThis was all that came to him--a menace, a shock, a danger to his\\nwork. I suppose it is this sad, half-resentful, half-resigned feeling,\\npiercing through the few words Jim said now and then, that puzzled Brown\\nso much in the reading of his character. Some great men owe most of\\ntheir greatness to the ability of detecting in those they destine for\\ntheir tools the exact quality of strength that matters for their work;\\nand Brown, as though he\",\n \"count. Each blade of grass has its spot on earth\\nwhence it draws its life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land\\nfrom which he draws his faith together with his life. I don't know\\nhow much Jim understood; but I know he felt, he felt confusedly but\\npowerfully, the demand of some such truth or some such illusion--I don't\\ncare how you call it, there is so little difference, and the difference\\nmeans so little. The thing is that in virtue of his feeling he mattered.\\nHe would never go home now. Not\",\n \"\\nstood still, and when Jim passed me on his way to the gate, I caught at\\nhis arm and detained him. The look he gave discomposed me, as though I\\nhad been responsible for his state he looked at me as if I had been the\\nembodied evil of life. \\\"It's all over,\\\" I stammered. \\\"Yes,\\\" he said\\nthickly. \\\"And now let no man . . .\\\" He jerked his arm out of my grasp. I\\nwatched his back as he went away. It was a long street, and he remained\\nin sight\",\n \"imagined he was hopeless.\\nThen it was that our glances met. They met, and the look he gave me was\\ndiscouraging of any intention I might have had to speak to him. Upon\\neither hypothesis--insolence or despair--I felt I could be of no use to\\nhim. This was the second day of the proceedings. Very soon after that\\nexchange of glances the inquiry was adjourned again to the next day. The\\nwhite men began to troop out at once. Jim had been told to stand down\\nsome time before, and was able to leave amongst\",\n \"skippers to take it there) did\\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cornelius within an\\ninch of his life; on the other hand, the scenes were of so painful\\na character, so abominable, that his impulse would be to get out of\\nearshot, in order to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,\\nspeechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a stony,\\ndesperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and say\",\n \"the tails of his coat blown hard against his legs.\\n\\n'I sat down again alone and discouraged--discouraged about Jim's case.\\nIf you wonder that after more than three years it had preserved its\\nactuality, you must know that I had seen him only very lately. I had\\ncome straight from Samarang, where I had loaded a cargo for Sydney: an\\nutterly uninteresting bit of business,--what Charley here would call one\\nof my rational transactions,--and in Samarang I had seen something\\nof Jim. He was then working for De\",\n \"of his extreme peril\\ndawned upon him. He dropped the thing--he says--\\\"like a hot potato,\\\"\\nand walked out hastily, without the slightest idea of what he would,\\nor indeed could, do. He only knew that the position was intolerable. He\\nstrolled aimlessly beyond a sort of ramshackle little granary on posts,\\nand his eyes fell on the broken stakes of the palisade; and then--he\\nsays--at once, without any mental process as it were, without any stir\\nof emotion, he set about his\",\n \"\\nsay, \\\"It's all very well for you beggars to laugh, but my immortal soul\\nwas shrivelled down to the size of a parched pea after a week of that\\nwork.\\\" I don't know how Jim's soul accommodated itself to the new\\nconditions of his life--I was kept too busy in getting him something to\\ndo that would keep body and soul together--but I am pretty certain his\\nadventurous fancy was suffering all the pangs of starvation. It had\\ncertainly nothing to feed upon in this new calling. It was\",\n \"Charley here would call one\\nof my rational transactions,--and in Samarang I had seen something\\nof Jim. He was then working for De Jongh, on my recommendation.\\nWater-clerk. \\\"My representative afloat,\\\" as De Jongh called him. You\\ncan't imagine a mode of life more barren of consolation, less capable of\\nbeing invested with a spark of glamour--unless it be the business of an\\ninsurance canvasser. Little Bob Stanton--Charley here knew him well--had\\ngone through that experience. The same who\",\n \"quickly, \\\"You were to be set\\nupon while you slept.\\\" Jim tells me he experienced a sense of deception.\\nIt was the old story. He was weary of these attempts upon his life. He\\nhad had his fill of these alarms. He was sick of them. He assured me he\\nwas angry with the girl for deceiving him. He had followed her under the\\nimpression that it was she who wanted his help, and now he had half\\na mind to turn on his heel and go back in disgust. \\\"Do you know,\\\" he\\ncommented profoundly, \\\"I\",\n \"said Tamb' Itam, after hesitating a moment.\\n\\n'Then Jim understood. He had retreated from one world, for a small\\nmatter of an impulsive jump, and now the other, the work of his own\\nhands, had fallen in ruins upon his head. It was not safe for his\\nservant to go out amongst his own people! I believe that in that very\\nmoment he had decided to defy the disaster in the only way it occurred\\nto him such a disaster could be defied; but all I know is that, without\\na word, he came out\",\n \"p me? It's all very fine for you--you\\nget a power of pieces out of her one way and another; but what about\\nme--what do I get? A measly hundred and fifty dollars a month and\\nfind yourself. I wish to ask you respectfully--respectfully, mind--who\\nwouldn't chuck a dratted job like this? 'Tain't safe, s'elp me, it\\nain't! Only I am one of them fearless fellows . . .'\\n\\nHe let go the rail and made ample gestures as if\",\n \"er of the Patna had turned up in a more or less destitute state,\\nand got a temporary job of looking after the machinery of the mill. \\\"I\\ncouldn't stand the familiarity of the little beast,\\\" Jim wrote from a\\nseaport seven hundred miles south of the place where he should have been\\nin clover. \\\"I am now for the time with Egstrom & Blake, ship-chandlers,\\nas their--well--runner, to call the thing by its right name. For\\nreference I gave them your name, which they know of course, and if you\",\n \", one\\ndidn't care who else went--three, thirty, three hundred people\\\"--it was\\nas if a demon had been whispering advice in his ear. \\\"I made him wince,\\\"\\nboasted Brown to me. \\\"He very soon left off coming the righteous over\\nme. He just stood there with nothing to say, and looking as black as\\nthunder--not at me--on the ground.\\\" He asked Jim whether he had nothing\\nfishy in his life to remember that he was so damnedly hard upon a man\\ntrying to get out of a deadly hole by the\",\n \"It was an act of intelligent volition. Jim between two questions forgot\\nhimself so far as to find leisure for a thought. This fellow--ran the\\nthought--looks at me as though he could see somebody or something past\\nmy shoulder. He had come across that man before--in the street perhaps.\\nHe was positive he had never spoken to him. For days, for many days,\\nhe had spoken to no one, but had held silent, incoherent, and endless\\nconverse with himself, like a prisoner alone in his cell or like a\\nwayfarer lost in a wild\",\n \"His--if I may say so--his caustic placidity,\\nand, at the same time, his intelligent sympathy with Jim's aspirations,\\nappealed to me. I seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If\\nJim took the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In fact, Jim\\nthe leader was a captive in every sense. The land, the people, the\\nfriendship, the love, were like the jealous guardians of his body.\\nEvery day added a link to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt\\nconvinced of\",\n \"asted Jim he puts down the\\nsandwich he had in his hand and walks round the table to me; there was\\nhis glass of beer poured out quite full. 'I am off,' he says--just like\\nthis. 'It isn't half-past one yet,' says I; 'you might snatch a smoke\\nfirst.' I thought he meant it was time for him to go down to his work.\\nWhen I understood what he was up to, my arms fell--so! Can't get a man\\nlike that every day, you know, sir; a regular devil for sailing\",\n \"loved, enjoyed, or hated; all that is\\npriceless and necessary--the sunshine, the memories, the future; which\\nmeans to sweep the whole precious world utterly away from his sight by\\nthe simple and appalling act of taking his life.\\n\\nJim, disabled by a falling spar at the beginning of a week of which his\\nScottish captain used to say afterwards, 'Man! it's a pairfect meeracle\\nto me how she lived through it!' spent many days stretched on his back,\\ndazed, battered, hopeless, and tormented as\",\n \"next sentence escaped me somehow, and\\nthen . . . \\\"abandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property\\nconfided to their charge\\\" . . . went on the voice evenly, and stopped. A\\npair of eyes under the white forehead shot darkly a glance above the\\nedge of the paper. I looked for Jim hurriedly, as though I had expected\\nhim to disappear. He was very still--but he was there. He sat pink and\\nfair and extremely attentive. \\\"Therefore, . . .\\\" began the voice\\nemphatically. He stared with parted lips,\"\n ],\n [\n \"That man there seemed to be aware of his\\nhopeless difficulty. Jim looked at him, then turned away resolutely, as\\nafter a final parting.\\n\\nAnd later on, many times, in distant parts of the world, Marlow showed\\nhimself willing to remember Jim, to remember him at length, in detail\\nand audibly.\\n\\nPerhaps it would be after dinner, on a verandah draped in motionless\\nfoliage and crowned with flowers, in the deep dusk speckled by fiery\\ncigar-ends. The elongated bulk of each\",\n \"\\ndrooping on each side of his thick, dark lips, came forward smirking. He\\nturned out, notwithstanding his self-satisfied and cheery exterior, to\\nbe of a careworn temperament. In answer to a remark of mine (while Jim\\nhad gone below for a moment) he said, \\\"Oh yes. Patusan.\\\" He was going to\\ncarry the gentleman to the mouth of the river, but would \\\"never ascend.\\\"\\nHis flowing English seemed to be derived from a dictionary compiled by\\na lunatic. Had Mr. Stein desired him to \\\"\",\n \"as an astronomer, I should fancy, would strongly object to being\\ntransported into a distant heavenly body, where, parted from his earthly\\nemoluments, he would be bewildered by the view of an unfamiliar heavens.\\nHowever, neither heavenly bodies nor astronomers have anything to do\\nwith Patusan. It was Jim who went there. I only meant you to understand\\nthat had Stein arranged to send him into a star of the fifth magnitude\\nthe change could not have been greater. He left his earthly failings\\nbehind him and what sort of reputation he had\",\n \"would naturally\\nfind his way to Stein's house. I returned his greeting and passed on. At\\nthe door of Stein's room I came upon another Malay in whom I recognised\\nTamb' Itam.\\n\\n'I asked him at once what he was doing there; it occurred to me that\\nJim might have come on a visit. I own I was pleased and excited at the\\nthought. Tamb' Itam looked as if he did not know what to say. \\\"Is Tuan\\nJim inside?\\\" I asked impatiently. \\\"No,\\\" he mumbled, hanging his\",\n \"in some commercial house in\\nthe Dutch colonies. I gathered from Stein that this man was an\\nunsatisfactory person in more ways than one, all being more or less\\nindefinite and offensive. It was solely for his wife's sake that Stein\\nhad appointed him manager of Stein & Co.'s trading post in Patusan;\\nbut commercially the arrangement was not a success, at any rate for\\nthe firm, and now the woman had died, Stein was disposed to try another\\nagent there. The Portuguese, whose name was Cornelius, considered\\nhimself a very des\",\n \"\\non Stein's verandah, and who was amongst them, told me that the boat,\\nshaving the low point close, seemed for a moment to grow big and hang\\nover it like a mountain. \\\"If you think it worth your while to wait a\\nday outside,\\\" called out Jim, \\\"I'll try to send you down something--a\\nbullock, some yams--what I can.\\\" The shadow went on moving. \\\"Yes. Do,\\\"\\nsaid a voice, blank and muffled out of the fog. Not one of the many\\nattentive listeners understood what the\",\n \".\\nStein had been the means of saving that chap's life on some occasion;\\npurely by accident, Mr. Stein had said, but he--Jim--had his own opinion\\nabout that. Mr. Stein was just the man to look out for such accidents.\\nNo matter. Accident or purpose, this would serve his turn immensely.\\nHoped to goodness the jolly old beggar had not gone off the hooks\\nmeantime. Mr. Stein could not tell. There had been no news for more\\nthan a year; they were kicking up no end of an all\",\n \"My dear Marlow,\\\" he said, \\\"I feel\\nthat if I go straight nothing can touch me. Indeed I do. Now you have\\nbeen long enough here to have a good look round--and, frankly, don't\\nyou think I am pretty safe? It all depends upon me, and, by Jove! I have\\nlots of confidence in myself. The worst thing he could do would be to\\nkill me, I suppose. I don't think for a moment he would. He couldn't,\\nyou know--not if I were myself to hand him a loaded rifle for\",\n \"meant many things) was a much-disappointed man. I\\ndon't know what he had expected would be done for him in consideration\\nof his marriage; but evidently the liberty to steal, and embezzle, and\\nappropriate to himself for many years and in any way that suited him\\nbest, the goods of Stein's Trading Company (Stein kept the supply up\\nunfalteringly as long as he could get his skippers to take it there) did\\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly\",\n \"the impossible. Yet one could not be sure\\neven of that. There and then, before his boat was three oars' lengths\\naway from the quay, I had made up my mind to go and consult Stein in the\\nevening.\\n\\n'This Stein was a wealthy and respected merchant. His \\\"house\\\" (because\\nit was a house, Stein & Co., and there was some sort of partner who,\\nas Stein said, \\\"looked after the Moluccas\\\") had a large inter-island\\nbusiness, with a lot of trading posts established in the most\\nout-of-the\",\n \"iness. She left the room, and\\nhe followed her; in the passage they disturbed an old hag who did the\\ncasual cooking of the household, though she was so decrepit as to be\\nhardly able to understand human speech. She got up and hobbled behind\\nthem, mumbling toothlessly. On the verandah a hammock of sail-cloth,\\nbelonging to Cornelius, swayed lightly to the touch of Jim's elbow. It\\nwas empty.\\n\\n'The Patusan establishment, like all the posts of Stein's Tr\",\n \"36\\n\\n\\nWith these words Marlow had ended his narrative, and his audience had\\nbroken up forthwith, under his abstract, pensive gaze. Men drifted off\\nthe verandah in pairs or alone without loss of time, without offering\\na remark, as if the last image of that incomplete story, its\\nincompleteness itself, and the very tone of the speaker, had made\\ndiscussion in vain and comment impossible. Each of them seemed to carry\\naway his own impression, to carry it away with him like a secret; but\\nthere was only one man of all\",\n \"descent, with\\nturned-out, shiny lips. I found him lying extended on his back in a cane\\nchair, odiously unbuttoned, with a large green leaf of some sort on the\\ntop of his steaming head, and another in his hand which he used lazily\\nas a fan . . . Going to Patusan? Oh yes. Stein's Trading Company. He\\nknew. Had a permission? No business of his. It was not so bad there now,\\nhe remarked negligently, and, he went on drawling, \\\"There's some sort\",\n \"back to what?\\\" he asked absently, with his eyes fixed upon the\\nface of a clock on the wall.\\n\\n'I was silent for a while. \\\"Is it to be never, then?\\\" I said. \\\"Never,\\\"\\nhe repeated dreamily without looking at me, and then flew into sudden\\nactivity. \\\"Jove! Two o'clock, and I sail at four!\\\"\\n\\n'It was true. A brigantine of Stein's was leaving for the westward that\\nafternoon, and he had been instructed to take his passage in her, only\\nno orders to delay the sail\",\n \"within the house, a faint exclamation, and a child-like but\\nenergetic little face with delicate features and a profound, attentive\\nglance peeped out of the inner gloom, like a bird out of the recess of a\\nnest. I was struck by the name, of course; but it was not till later\\non that I connected it with an astonishing rumour that had met me on my\\njourney, at a little place on the coast about 230 miles south of Patusan\\nRiver. Stein's schooner, in which\",\n \"woman had died, Stein was disposed to try another\\nagent there. The Portuguese, whose name was Cornelius, considered\\nhimself a very deserving but ill-used person, entitled by his abilities\\nto a better position. This man Jim would have to relieve. \\\"But I don't\\nthink he will go away from the place,\\\" remarked Stein. \\\"That has nothing\\nto do with me. It was only for the sake of the woman that I . . . But as\\nI think there is a daughter left, I shall let him, if he likes to stay,\\nkeep the old\",\n \"was Cornelius who hated him.\\n\\n'Yet after all this was a kind of recognition. You shall judge of a man\\nby his foes as well as by his friends, and this enemy of Jim was such as\\nno decent man would be ashamed to own, without, however, making too\\nmuch of him. This was the view Jim took, and in which I shared; but Jim\\ndisregarded him on general grounds. \\\"My dear Marlow,\\\" he said, \\\"I feel\\nthat if I go straight nothing can touch me. Indeed I do. Now you have\\nbeen\",\n \"to come in the evening to talk\\ninterminably over their war reminiscences and to discuss State affairs.\\nJim had pointed him out to me once as a respectable petty trader owning\\na small seagoing native craft, who had showed himself \\\"one of the best\\nat the taking of the stockade.\\\" I was not very surprised to see him,\\nsince any Patusan trader venturing as far as Samarang would naturally\\nfind his way to Stein's house. I returned his greeting and passed on. At\\nthe door of Stein's room I came\",\n \"how he ascended the Patusan\\nriver. Nothing could have been more prosaic and more unsafe, more\\nextravagantly casual, more lonely. Strange, this fatality that would\\ncast the complexion of a flight upon all his acts, of impulsive\\nunreflecting desertion of a jump into the unknown.\\n\\n'It is precisely the casualness of it that strikes me most. Neither\\nStein nor I had a clear conception of what might be on the other side\\nwhen we, metaphorically speaking, took him up and hove him over the\\nwall with\",\n \"voice was very droll, pretty,\\nand childlike. It delighted Jim greatly. This was the last occasion on\\nwhich I heard them exchange this familiar hail, and it struck a chill\\ninto my heart. There was the high sweet voice, the pretty effort, the\\nswagger; but it all seemed to die out prematurely, and the playful call\\nsounded like a moan. It was too confoundedly awful. \\\"What have you done\\nwith Marlow?\\\" Jim was asking; and then, \\\"Gone down--has he? Funny I\\ndidn't meet him\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\nThen I am sure she understood much--not everything--the fear mostly, it\\nseems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in the sense of a\\nprecious gem--jewel. Pretty, isn't it? But he was capable of anything.\\nHe was equal to his fortune, as he--after all--must have been equal to\\nhis misfortune. Jewel he called her; and he would say this as he might\\nhave said \\\"Jane,\\\" don't you know--with a marital, homelike, peaceful\\neffect. I heard the name\",\n \"ended by their women-folk. The women\\nand children from the lower part of the town had been sent into the\\nfort at the first alarm. There Jewel was in command, very efficient and\\nhigh-spirited, obeyed by Jim's \\\"own people,\\\" who, quitting in a body\\ntheir little settlement under the stockade, had gone in to form the\\ngarrison. The refugees crowded round her; and through the whole affair,\\nto the very disastrous last, she showed an extraordinary martial ardour.\\nIt was to her that Dain Waris had gone\",\n \"he might\\nhave said \\\"Jane,\\\" don't you know--with a marital, homelike, peaceful\\neffect. I heard the name for the first time ten minutes after I had\\nlanded in his courtyard, when, after nearly shaking my arm off, he\\ndarted up the steps and began to make a joyous, boyish disturbance at\\nthe door under the heavy eaves. \\\"Jewel! O Jewel! Quick! Here's a friend\\ncome,\\\" . . . and suddenly peering at me in the dim verandah, he mumbled\\near\",\n \"but none the\\nless true. Who could tell what forms, what visions, what faces, what\\nforgiveness he could see in the glow of the west! . . . A small boat,\\nleaving the schooner, moved slowly, with a regular beat of two oars,\\ntowards the sandbank to take me off. \\\"And then there's Jewel,\\\" he said,\\nout of the great silence of earth, sky, and sea, which had mastered my\\nvery thoughts so that his voice made me start. \\\"There's Jewel.\\\" \\\"Yes,\\\"\\nI\",\n \", and sea, which had mastered my\\nvery thoughts so that his voice made me start. \\\"There's Jewel.\\\" \\\"Yes,\\\"\\nI murmured. \\\"I need not tell you what she is to me,\\\" he pursued.\\n\\\"You've seen. In time she will come to understand . . .\\\" \\\"I hope so,\\\" I\\ninterrupted. \\\"She trusts me, too,\\\" he mused, and then changed his tone.\\n\\\"When shall we meet next, I wonder?\\\" he said.\\n\\n'\\\"Never--unless you come out,\\\" I answered, avoiding his glance. He\",\n \"he asked Jewel to get him something to eat, as he was going out of\\nthe fort to take command in the town. On her remonstrating against this\\non the score of his fatigue, he said that something might happen for\\nwhich he would never forgive himself. \\\"I am responsible for every life\\nin the land,\\\" he said. He was moody at first; she served him with her\\nown hands, taking the plates and dishes (of the dinner-service presented\\nhim by Stein) from Tamb' Itam. He brightened up after a while; told her\\nshe would be again\",\n \"by side, openly, he holding her arm under his--pressed to\\nhis side--thus--in a most extraordinary way. This might be a lie, he\\nconceded, for it was indeed a strange thing for any one to do: on the\\nother hand, there could be no doubt she wore the white man's jewel\\nconcealed upon her bosom.'\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER 29\\n\\n\\n'This was the theory of Jim's marital evening walks. I made a third on\\nmore than one occasion, unpleasantly aware every time of Cornelius,\",\n \"by the old fellow from whom\\nI heard most of this amazing Jim-myth--a sort of scribe to the wretched\\nlittle Rajah of the place;--such a jewel, he said, cocking his poor\\npurblind eyes up at me (he was sitting on the cabin floor out of\\nrespect), is best preserved by being concealed about the person of a\\nwoman. Yet it is not every woman that would do. She must be young--he\\nsighed deeply--and insensible to the seductions of love. He shook his\\nhead sceptically. But\",\n \", the barrier of forest, the\\nsolitude and the turmoil round these two lonely lives, and every word\\nspoken between them penetrated with sad meaning. There must have\\nbeen confidences, not so much of fact, I suppose, as of innermost\\nfeelings--regrets--fears--warnings, no doubt: warnings that the younger\\ndid not fully understand till the elder was dead--and Jim came along.\\nThen I am sure she understood much--not everything--the fear mostly, it\\nseems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in\",\n \"graph cables and mail-boat\\nlines, the haggard utilitarian lies of our civilisation wither and die,\\nto be replaced by pure exercises of imagination, that have the futility,\\noften the charm, and sometimes the deep hidden truthfulness, of works of\\nart? Romance had singled Jim for its own--and that was the true part of\\nthe story, which otherwise was all wrong. He did not hide his jewel. In\\nfact, he was extremely proud of it.\\n\\n'It comes to me now that I had, on the whole, seen very little of her\",\n \"\\nplace, I discovered that a story was travelling slowly down the\\ncoast about a mysterious white man in Patusan who had got hold of\\nan extraordinary gem--namely, an emerald of an enormous size, and\\naltogether priceless. The emerald seems to appeal more to the Eastern\\nimagination than any other precious stone. The white man had obtained\\nit, I was told, partly by the exercise of his wonderful strength and\\npartly by cunning, from the ruler of a distant country, whence he had\\nfled instantly, arriving in Patusan in utmost distress\",\n \"firm glance and his ironic friendliness; the girl, absorbed in her\\nfrightened, suspicious adoration; Tamb' Itam, surly and faithful;\\nCornelius, leaning his forehead against the fence under the moonlight--I\\nam certain of them. They exist as if under an enchanter's wand. But the\\nfigure round which all these are grouped--that one lives, and I am not\\ncertain of him. No magician's wand can immobilise him under my eyes. He\\nis one of us.\\n\\n'Jim, as\",\n \"! Steal from me everything! Everything!\\nEverything!\\\" His head drooped on one shoulder, his hands were hanging\\nbefore him lightly clasped. One would have thought he had cherished\\nthe girl with surpassing love, that his spirit had been crushed and his\\nheart broken by the most cruel of spoliations. Suddenly he lifted his\\nhead and shot out an infamous word. \\\"Like her mother--she is like her\\ndeceitful mother. Exactly. In her face, too. In her face. The devil!\\\"\\nHe leaned his forehead against the fence, and in that position\",\n \"In\\nfact, he was extremely proud of it.\\n\\n'It comes to me now that I had, on the whole, seen very little of her.\\nWhat I remember best is the even, olive pallor of her complexion, and\\nthe intense blue-black gleams of her hair, flowing abundantly from under\\na small crimson cap she wore far back on her shapely head. Her movements\\nwere free, assured, and she blushed a dusky red. While Jim and I were\\ntalking, she would come and go with rapid glances at us, leaving on her\",\n \"interest the work of\\nhis--well--good fortune. He was jealously loved, but why she should\\nbe jealous, and of what, I could not tell. The land, the people, the\\nforests were her accomplices, guarding him with vigilant accord, with\\nan air of seclusion, of mystery, of invincible possession. There was\\nno appeal, as it were; he was imprisoned within the very freedom of his\\npower, and she, though ready to make a footstool of her head for his\\nfeet, guarded her conquest inflexibly\",\n \"advancing with alacrity. He did not know what\\nhis master meant, but as soon as Jim made a movement the girl started\\ntoo and walked down into the open space. It seems that no one else of\\nthe people of the house was in sight. She tottered slightly, and about\\nhalf-way down called out to Jim, who had apparently resumed his peaceful\\ncontemplation of the river. He turned round, setting his back against\\nthe gun. \\\"Will you fight?\\\" she cried. \\\"There is nothing to fight for,\\\"\\nhe said; \\\"nothing is lost.\\\" Saying\",\n \"first who withdraws his\\narm or turns his head is a dead man,\\\" he said. \\\"March!\\\" They stepped out\\ntogether, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing\\nwhite gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light.\\nErect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the\\nonly sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. \\\"Stop!\\\"\\ncried Jim.\\n\\n'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on\",\n \"His--if I may say so--his caustic placidity,\\nand, at the same time, his intelligent sympathy with Jim's aspirations,\\nappealed to me. I seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If\\nJim took the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In fact, Jim\\nthe leader was a captive in every sense. The land, the people, the\\nfriendship, the love, were like the jealous guardians of his body.\\nEvery day added a link to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt\\nconvinced of\",\n \"flapping on every wall. He\\ndid his best to make out that Mr. Stein owed him money on the last three\\nyears' trading, but his books were all torn, and some were missing. He\\ntried to hint it was his late wife's fault. Disgusting scoundrel! At\\nlast I had to forbid him to mention his late wife at all. It made Jewel\\ncry. I couldn't discover what became of all the trade-goods; there was\\nnothing in the store but rats, having a high old time amongst a litter\\n\",\n \"able\\negotism of the man which made him, when resisted and foiled in his will,\\nmad with the indignant and revengeful rage of a thwarted autocrat.\\nBut if Jim did not mistrust Brown, he was evidently anxious that some\\nmisunderstanding should not occur, ending perhaps in collision and\\nbloodshed. It was for this reason that directly the Malay chiefs had\\ngone he asked Jewel to get him something to eat, as he was going out of\\nthe fort to take command in the town. On her remonstr\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\nthe defences, hesitating, stopping to listen in a peering posture. \\\"Come\\nalong! You are safe,\\\" yelled Brown, while his men stared. All their\\nhopes of life became suddenly centered in that dilapidated, mean\\nnewcomer, who in profound silence clambered clumsily over a felled\\ntree-trunk, and shivering, with his sour, mistrustful face, looked about\\nat the knot of bearded, anxious, sleepless desperadoes.\\n\\n'Half an hour's confidential talk with Cornelius\",\n \"him to me. \\\"Yes, certainly,\\\" he pursued with\\nardour, \\\"and then, captain, you tell that tall man with a gun to shoot\\nhim. Just you kill him, and you will frighten everybody so much that\\nyou can do anything you like with them afterwards--get what you like--go\\naway when you like. Ha! ha! ha! Fine . . .\\\" He almost danced with\\nimpatience and eagerness; and Brown, looking over his shoulder at him,\\ncould see, shown up by the pitiless dawn, his men drenched with dew\",\n \"'ll kill me, but I shall die easy now. You . . . you\\nhere . . . I don't know your name--I would give you a five-pound note\\nif--if I had it--for the news--or my name's not Brown. . . .\\\" He grinned\\nhorribly. . . . \\\"Gentleman Brown.\\\"\\n\\n'He said all these things in profound gasps, staring at me with his\\nyellow eyes out of a long, ravaged, brown face; he jerked his left arm;\\na pepper-and-salt m\",\n \"ore with their boats\\nhauled up.\\\" \\\"Oh, we know how to be as quiet as mice; never fear,\\\" said\\nBrown. Cornelius stipulated that in case he were to pilot Brown out, his\\ncanoe should be towed. \\\"I'll have to get back quick,\\\" he explained.\\n\\n'It was two hours before the dawn when word was passed to the stockade\\nfrom outlying watchers that the white robbers were coming down to their\\nboat. In a very short time every armed man from one end of Patusan\\nto the other\",\n \"opinions of the chief men of the town, who elected\\nto assemble in Jim's fort for deliberation upon the emergency, as if\\nexpecting to find wisdom and courage in the dwelling of the absent white\\nman. The shooting of Brown's ruffians was so far good, or lucky, that\\nthere had been half-a-dozen casualties amongst the defenders. The\\nwounded were lying on the verandah tended by their women-folk. The women\\nand children from the lower part of the town had been sent into the\\nfort at the first alarm. There\",\n \"pretended a great reluctance. The voice declared itself\\n\\\"a white man--a poor, ruined, old man who had been living here for\\nyears.\\\" A mist, wet and chilly, lay on the slopes of the hill, and after\\nsome more shouting from one to the other, Brown called out, \\\"Come on,\\nthen, but alone, mind!\\\" As a matter of fact--he told me, writhing with\\nrage at the recollection of his helplessness--it made no difference.\\nThey couldn't see more than a few yards before them, and no treach\",\n \", fuddled vagabond--a\\nwhite man living amongst the natives with a Siamese woman--had\\nconsidered it a great privilege to give a shelter to the last days of\\nthe famous Gentleman Brown. While he was talking to me in the wretched\\nhovel, and, as it were, fighting for every minute of his life, the\\nSiamese woman, with big bare legs and a stupid coarse face, sat in a\\ndark corner chewing betel stolidly. Now and then she would get up for\\nthe purpose of shooing a\",\n \"laughter is unseemly.\\nAre they not cruel, bloodthirsty robbers bent on killing?\\\" \\\"Let her be,\\\"\\nsaid Jim, and as a silence fell suddenly, he said slowly, \\\"Everybody\\nshall be safe.\\\" He entered the house before the great sigh, and the loud\\nmurmurs of satisfaction, had died out.\\n\\n'There's no doubt his mind was made up that Brown should have his way\\nclear back to the sea. His fate, revolted, was forcing his hand. He\\nhad for the first time to affirm his will in the face of\",\n \"\\\"A good thing to know, too,\\\"\\nsaid Brown, pricking up his ears; and Cornelius began to talk of\\nwhat went on in town and repeated all that had been said in council,\\ngossiping in an even undertone at Brown's ear as you talk amongst\\nsleeping men you do not wish to wake. \\\"He thinks he has made me\\nharmless, does he?\\\" mumbled Brown very low. . . . \\\"Yes. He is a fool. A\\nlittle child. He came here and robbed me,\\\" droned on Cornelius, \\\"and\",\n \"fights, of the sudden\\noutbreaks that would fill this or that part of the settlement with\\nsmoke, flame, the noise of shots and shrieks. Villages were burnt, men\\nwere dragged into the Rajah's stockade to be killed or tortured for the\\ncrime of trading with anybody else but himself. Only a day or two before\\nJim's arrival several heads of households in the very fishing village\\nthat was afterwards taken under his especial protection had been driven\\nover the cliffs by a party of the Rajah's spearmen, on suspicion of\\nh\",\n \"all--men,\\nwomen, savages, traders, ruffians, missionaries--and Jim--\\\"that\\nbeefy-faced beggar.\\\" I did not begrudge him this triumph in articulo\\nmortis, this almost posthumous illusion of having trampled all the earth\\nunder his feet. While he was boasting to me, in his sordid and repulsive\\nagony, I couldn't help thinking of the chuckling talk relating to the\\ntime of his greatest splendour when, during a year or more, Gentleman\\nBrown's\",\n \"of earshot and almost out of sight, were\\nstraining their eyes towards the knoll beyond the Rajah's stockade.\\nWithin the wide irregular ring of forests, broken in two places by the\\nsheen of the river, there was a silence. \\\"Will you promise to leave the\\ncoast?\\\" Jim asked. Brown lifted and let fall his hand, giving everything\\nup as it were--accepting the inevitable. \\\"And surrender your arms?\\\" Jim\\nwent on. Brown sat up and glared across. \\\"Surrender our arms! Not till\\nyou come to take them out of\",\n \"\\nout into the deserted opening of the street between the shut-up, dark,\\nlifeless buildings at the end. Perhaps one of the inhabitants, who had\\nfled to the other bank of the river, coming back for some object of\\ndomestic use. Evidently he supposed himself quite safe at that distance\\nfrom the hill on the other side of the creek. A light stockade, set up\\nhastily, was just round the turn of the street, full of his friends.\\nHe moved leisurely. Brown saw him, and instantly called to his side the\\nYankee\",\n \"after that\\nscream a great yell of amazement and fear went up from all the throats.\\nA blind panic drove these men in a surging swaying mob to and fro along\\nthe shore like a herd of cattle afraid of the water. Some few jumped\\ninto the river then, but most of them did so only after the last\\ndischarge. Three times Brown's men fired into the ruck, Brown, the only\\none in view, cursing and yelling, \\\"Aim low! aim low!\\\"\\n\\n'Tamb' Itam says that, as for him, he\",\n \"They lay down and snored, protected from the burning\\nsunshine; but Brown, sitting fully exposed on one of the felled trees,\\nfeasted his eyes upon the view of the town and the river. There was much\\nloot there. Cornelius, who had made himself at home in the camp, talked\\nat his elbow, pointing out the localities, imparting advice, giving his\\nown version of Jim's character, and commenting in his own fashion upon\\nthe events of the last three years. Brown, who, apparently indifferent\\nand gazing away, listened with attention to\",\n \"the white robbers were coming down to their\\nboat. In a very short time every armed man from one end of Patusan\\nto the other was on the alert, yet the banks of the river remained so\\nsilent that but for the fires burning with sudden blurred flares the\\ntown might have been asleep as if in peace-time. A heavy mist lay very\\nlow on the water, making a sort of illusive grey light that showed\\nnothing. When Brown's long-boat glided out of the creek into the\\nriver, Jim was standing on the low point of land before\",\n \"Suppose they say one\\nthing to you, and do the other thing to me.\\\" He calmed down markedly. \\\"I\\ndare say you have the power, or what's the meaning of all this talk?\\\" he\\ncontinued. \\\"What did you come down here for? To pass the time of day?\\\"\\n\\n'\\\"Very well,\\\" said Jim, lifting his head suddenly after a long silence.\\n\\\"You shall have a clear road or else a clear fight.\\\" He turned on his\\nheel and walked away.\\n\\n'Brown got up at once, but he did not go up the\",\n \"men could have any knowledge of the narrow channel at the back\\nof the island. When he judged the moment come, Brown yelled, \\\"Let them\\nhave it,\\\" and fourteen shots rang out like one.\\n\\n'Tamb' Itam told me the surprise was so great that, except for those who\\nfell dead or wounded, not a soul of them moved for quite an appreciable\\ntime after the first discharge. Then a man screamed, and after that\\nscream a great yell of amazement and fear went up from all the throats.\\nA blind panic drove these men in a sur\",\n \"day to day. Besides, he was not averse to begin fighting on that\\nRajah's account, and teach a lesson to those people who had received him\\nwith shots. The lust of battle was upon him.\\n\\n'I am sorry that I can't give you this part of the story, which of\\ncourse I have mainly from Brown, in Brown's own words. There was in the\\nbroken, violent speech of that man, unveiling before me his thoughts\\nwith the very hand of Death upon his throat, an undisguised ruthlessness\\nof purpose, a\",\n \"keep starvation\\noff for ten days. The tide and wind helped, and early one afternoon the\\nbig white boat under a ragged sail shouldered its way before the sea\\nbreeze into Patusan Reach, manned by fourteen assorted scarecrows\\nglaring hungrily ahead, and fingering the breech-blocks of cheap rifles.\\nBrown calculated upon the terrifying surprise of his appearance. They\\nsailed in with the last of the flood; the Rajah's stockade gave no sign;\\nthe first houses on both sides of the stream seemed deserted\"\n ],\n [\n \"ued with him feebly. Some of the Bugis settlers, weary with\\nendless insecurity, were half inclined to call him in. The younger\\nspirits amongst them, chaffing, advised to \\\"get Sherif Ali with his wild\\nmen and drive the Rajah Allang out of the country.\\\" Doramin restrained\\nthem with difficulty. He was growing old, and, though his influence had\\nnot diminished, the situation was getting beyond him. This was the state\\nof affairs when Jim, bolting from the Rajah's stockade, appeared before\\nthe chief of\",\n \"white men, walking slowly\\ntowards the stockade in the street. Everybody was rejoiced to see him\\nreturn, for while he was away every man had been afraid not only of him\\nbeing killed, but also of what would come after. Jim went into one of\\nthe houses, where old Doramin had retired, and remained alone for a\\nlong time with the head of the Bugis settlers. No doubt he discussed\\nthe course to follow with him then, but no man was present at the\\nconversation. Only Tamb' Itam, keeping as close to the door as he could,\\n\",\n \"ance, or to repulse a threatened invasion? Many\\ndays elapsed before the people had ceased to look out, quaking, for\\nthe return of the white men with long beards and in rags, whose exact\\nrelation to their own white man they could never understand. Even for\\nthose simple minds poor Jim remains under a cloud.\\n\\n'Doramin, alone! immense and desolate, sat in his arm-chair with the\\npair of flintlock pistols on his knees, faced by a armed throng. When\\nJim appeared, at somebody's exclamation,\",\n \"was getting beyond him. This was the state\\nof affairs when Jim, bolting from the Rajah's stockade, appeared before\\nthe chief of the Bugis, produced the ring, and was received, in a manner\\nof speaking, into the heart of the community.'\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER 26\\n\\n\\n'Doramin was one of the most remarkable men of his race I had ever seen.\\nHis bulk for a Malay was immense, but he did not look merely fat; he\\nlooked imposing, monumental. This motionless body, clad in rich stuffs\",\n \"atusan, wandering abandoned,\\nstripped, without opium, without his women, without followers, a fair\\ngame for the first comer to kill. After Sherif Ali his turn would come,\\nand who could resist an attack led by such a devil? And indeed he owed\\nhis life and such authority as he still possessed at the time of my\\nvisit to Jim's idea of what was fair alone. The Bugis had been extremely\\nanxious to pay off old scores, and the impassive old Doramin cherished\\nthe hope of yet seeing his son ruler of Patus\",\n \"where he\\nwould be most hated he was still trusted. Jim--as far as I could follow\\nthe conversation--was improving the occasion by the delivery of a\\nlecture. Some poor villagers had been waylaid and robbed while on their\\nway to Doramin's house with a few pieces of gum or beeswax which they\\nwished to exchange for rice. \\\"It was Doramin who was a thief,\\\" burst\\nout the Rajah. A shaking fury seemed to enter that old frail body.\\nHe writhed weirdly on his mat, gesticulating\",\n \"up slowly, looked at his dead friend, lifting the sheet, than dropped it\\nwithout a word. Slowly he walked back.\\n\\n'\\\"He came! He came!\\\" was running from lip to lip, making a murmur to\\nwhich he moved. \\\"He hath taken it upon his own head,\\\" a voice said\\naloud. He heard this and turned to the crowd. \\\"Yes. Upon my head.\\\" A few\\npeople recoiled. Jim waited awhile before Doramin, and then said gently,\\n\\\"I am come in sorrow.\\\" He waited again. \\\"I am come ready and un\",\n \"complete. Doramin, waiting immovably in\\nhis chair on the hillside, with the smoke of the guns spreading slowly\\nabove his big head, received the news with a deep grunt. When informed\\nthat his son was safe and leading the pursuit, he, without another\\nsound, made a mighty effort to rise; his attendants hurried to his help,\\nand, held up reverently, he shuffled with great dignity into a bit of\\nshade, where he laid himself down to sleep, covered entirely with a\\npiece of white sheeting. In Patusan the excitement was intense.\",\n \"'Kassim disliked Doramin and his Bugis very much, but he hated the new\\norder of things still more. It had occurred to him that these whites,\\ntogether with the Rajah's followers, could attack and defeat the\\nBugis before Jim's return. Then, he reasoned, general defection of\\nthe townsfolk was sure to follow, and the reign of the white man who\\nprotected poor people would be over. Afterwards the new allies could be\\ndealt with. They would have no friends. The fellow was perfectly able to\\nperceive the difference\",\n \"night. \\\"I\\nsuppose you will come back to my poor house,\\\" he muttered, surlily,\\nslinking up just as Jim was entering the canoe to go over to Doramin's\\ncampong. Jim only nodded, without looking at him. \\\"You find it good fun,\\nno doubt,\\\" muttered the other in a sour tone. Jim spent the day with the\\nold nakhoda, preaching the necessity of vigorous action to the principal\\nmen of the Bugis community, who had been summoned for a big talk. He\\nremembered with pleasure how very eloqu\",\n \"methodical ferocity of his fighting. The storming party had come on so\\nquick--Jim said--that notwithstanding the panic of the garrison, there\\nwas a \\\"hot five minutes hand-to-hand inside that stockade, till some\\nbally ass set fire to the shelters of boughs and dry grass, and we all\\nhad to clear out for dear life.\\\"\\n\\n'The rout, it seems, had been complete. Doramin, waiting immovably in\\nhis chair on the hillside, with the smoke of the guns spreading slowly\\nabove his big head\",\n \".\\\"'\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER 43\\n\\n\\n'Tamb' Itam behind his chair was thunderstruck. The declaration produced\\nan immense sensation. \\\"Let them go because this is best in my knowledge\\nwhich has never deceived you,\\\" Jim insisted. There was a silence. In\\nthe darkness of the courtyard could be heard the subdued whispering,\\nshuffling noise of many people. Doramin raised his heavy head and said\\nthat there was no more reading of hearts than touching the sky with the\\nhand, but--he consented. The others gave their opinion in\",\n \"ation over a barricade of felled trees (there wasn't\\na week without some fight in Patusan at that time), burst through a\\nfence into a maize-patch, where a scared boy flung a stick at him,\\nblundered upon a path, and ran all at once into the arms of several\\nstartled men. He just had breath enough to gasp out, \\\"Doramin! Doramin!\\\"\\nHe remembers being half-carried, half-rushed to the top of the slope,\\nand in a vast enclosure with palms and fruit trees\",\n \"to\\nus and in a little while they go. They go away. Those they leave behind\\ndo not know when to look for their return. They go to their own land, to\\ntheir people, and so this white man too would. . . . I don't know what\\ninduced me to commit myself at this point by a vigorous \\\"No, no.\\\" The\\nwhole extent of this indiscretion became apparent when Doramin, turning\\nfull upon me his face, whose expression, fixed in rugged deep folds,\\nremained unalterable, like a huge brown mask,\",\n \"to say\\nthe least of it) in a certain episode which might have ended fatally for\\nJim. As a matter of fact, it had redounded to his glory. But everything\\nredounded to his glory; and it was the irony of his good fortune that\\nhe, who had been too careful of it once, seemed to bear a charmed life.\\n\\n'You must know he had left Doramin's place very soon after his\\narrival--much too soon, in fact, for his safety, and of course a long\\ntime before the war. In this he\",\n \"haps!\\n\\n'When he came up into the light of torches the wailing of the women\\nceased suddenly. Doramin did not lift his head, and Jim stood silent\\nbefore him for a time. Then he looked to the left, and moved in that\\ndirection with measured steps. Dain Waris's mother crouched at the head\\nof the body, and the grey dishevelled hair concealed her face. Jim came\\nup slowly, looked at his dead friend, lifting the sheet, than dropped it\\nwithout a word. Slowly he walked back.\\n\\n'\\\"He came\",\n \"'s return.\\nJim had been away in the interior for more than a week, and it was Dain\\nWaris who had directed the first repulse. That brave and intelligent\\nyouth (\\\"who knew how to fight after the manner of white men\\\") wished to\\nsettle the business off-hand, but his people were too much for him.\\nHe had not Jim's racial prestige and the reputation of invincible,\\nsupernatural power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and\",\n \"he asked. He believed that it\\nwould be best to let these whites and their followers go with their\\nlives. It would be a small gift. \\\"I whom you have tried and found always\\ntrue ask you to let them go.\\\" He turned to Doramin. The old nakhoda made\\nno movement. \\\"Then,\\\" said Jim, \\\"call in Dain Waris, your son, my friend,\\nfor in this business I shall not lead.\\\"'\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER 43\\n\\n\\n'Tamb' Itam behind his chair was thunderstruck. The declaration produced\\n\",\n \"also that I have no thought but for the\\npeople's good.\\\" Then his master, lifting the sheeting in the doorway,\\nwent out, and he, Tamb' Itam, had a glimpse of old Doramin within,\\nsitting in the chair with his hands on his knees, and looking between\\nhis feet. Afterwards he followed his master to the fort, where all the\\nprincipal Bugis and Patusan inhabitants had been summoned for a talk.\\nTamb' Itam himself hoped there would be some fighting. \\\"What was it but\\nthe taking of another hill?\\\" he excl\",\n \"anxious to pay off old scores, and the impassive old Doramin cherished\\nthe hope of yet seeing his son ruler of Patusan. During one of our\\ninterviews he deliberately allowed me to get a glimpse of this secret\\nambition. Nothing could be finer in its way than the dignified wariness\\nof his approaches. He himself--he began by declaring--had used his\\nstrength in his young days, but now he had grown old and tired. . . .\\nWith his imposing bulk and haughty little eyes darting sagacious,\\ninquis\"\n ],\n [\n \"Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war--in a corner?\\nand the fellow had been killed cleanly, shot through the chest, not like\\nthat poor devil of his lying now in the creek. They had to listen to him\\ndying for six hours, with his entrails torn with slugs. At any rate this\\nwas a life for a life. . . . And all this was said with the weariness,\\nwith the recklessness of a man spurred on and\",\n \"ably, \\\"do you expose me to\\nsuch a stupid risk?\\\" I drank, of course, there was nothing for it, while\\nhe gave no sign, and almost immediately afterwards we took our leave.\\nWhile we were going down the courtyard to our boat, escorted by the\\nintelligent and cheery executioner, Jim said he was very sorry. It was\\nthe barest chance, of course. Personally he thought nothing of poison.\\nThe remotest chance. He was--he assured me--considered to be infinitely\\nmore useful than dangerous, and so . . . \\\"But\",\n \". . . However,\\nthis is not the place, nor the time, and we are concerned with Jim--who\\nwas unmarried. If his imaginative conscience or his pride; if all the\\nextravagant ghosts and austere shades that were the disastrous familiars\\nof his youth would not let him run away from the block, I, who of course\\ncan't be suspected of such familiars, was irresistibly impelled to go\\nand see his head roll off. I wended my way towards the court. I didn't\\nhope\",\n \"way giving him the slightest chance of attaining\\nhis ends--he argued in a fit of coughing. But he didn't tell Jim this.\\nAs to the hardships and starvation they had gone through, these had been\\nvery real; it was enough to look at his band. He made, at the sound of a\\nshrill whistle, all his men appear standing in a row on the logs in full\\nview, so that Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war\",\n \"round the neck\\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\\nfriend through the chest.\\n\\n'The crowd, which had fallen apart behind Jim as soon as Doramin had\\nraised his hand, rushed tumultuously forward after the shot. They say\\nthat the white man sent right and left at all those faces a proud and\\nunflinching glance. Then with his hand over his lips he fell forward,\\ndead.\\n\\n'And that's the end. He passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart,\\nforgotten\",\n \"and looking up, with a toss of his head, said quickly,\\n\\\"You hear, my people! No more of these little games.\\\" This decree\\nwas received in profound silence. A rather heavy man, evidently in a\\nposition of confidence, with intelligent eyes, a bony, broad, very dark\\nface, and a cheerily of officious manner (I learned later on he was the\\nexecutioner), presented to us two cups of coffee on a brass tray, which\\nhe took from the hands of an inferior attendant. \\\"You needn't drink,\\\"\\nmuttered Jim very rapidly\",\n \"'t seem to have any. I know this was Cornelius's view.\\nHe confessed that much to me in extenuation of the shady part he had\\nplayed in Sherif Ali's plot to do away with the infidel. Even Sherif Ali\\nhimself, as it seems certain now, had nothing but contempt for the white\\nman. Jim was to be murdered mainly on religious grounds, I believe. A\\nsimple act of piety (and so far infinitely meritorious), but otherwise\\nwithout much importance. In the last part of this opinion Cornelius\\n\",\n \"iness of his soul, that remains even for\\nher who loved him best a cruel and insoluble mystery.\\n\\n'It is evident that he did not mistrust Brown; there was no reason to\\ndoubt the story, whose truth seemed warranted by the rough frankness,\\nby a sort of virile sincerity in accepting the morality and the\\nconsequences of his acts. But Jim did not know the almost inconceivable\\negotism of the man which made him, when resisted and foiled in his will,\\nmad with the indignant and revengeful\",\n \"\\nstood still, and when Jim passed me on his way to the gate, I caught at\\nhis arm and detained him. The look he gave discomposed me, as though I\\nhad been responsible for his state he looked at me as if I had been the\\nembodied evil of life. \\\"It's all over,\\\" I stammered. \\\"Yes,\\\" he said\\nthickly. \\\"And now let no man . . .\\\" He jerked his arm out of my grasp. I\\nwatched his back as he went away. It was a long street, and he remained\\nin sight\",\n \"guilty and done for; nevertheless, I wished to spare\\nhim the mere detail of a formal execution. I don't pretend to explain\\nthe reasons of my desire--I don't think I could; but if you haven't got\\na sort of notion by this time, then I must have been very obscure in\\nmy narrative, or you too sleepy to seize upon the sense of my words.\\nI don't defend my morality. There was no morality in the impulse which\\ninduced me to lay before him Brierly's plan of evasion--I may call\",\n \"less it had for its object the killing of a donkeyman and the bringing\\nof worse than death upon Jim, appeared an utterly aimless piece of\\ndevilry. This view occurring to me took off my attention. For a time I\\nwas aware of the magistrate's voice as a sound merely; but in a moment\\nit shaped itself into distinct words . . . \\\"in utter disregard of their\\nplain duty,\\\" it said. The next sentence escaped me somehow, and\\nthen . . . \\\"abandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property\\nconfided to their charge\\\"\",\n \"slipped by long before we parted)--the marble-faced police\\nmagistrate, after distributing fines and terms of imprisonment in the\\nassault-and-battery case, would take up the awful weapon and smite his\\nbowed neck. Our communion in the night was uncommonly like a last vigil\\nwith a condemned man. He was guilty too. He was guilty--as I had told\\nmyself repeatedly, guilty and done for; nevertheless, I wished to spare\\nhim the mere detail of a formal execution. I don't pretend to explain\\nthe reasons of\",\n \"power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and\\nadmired as he was, he was still one of _them_, while Jim was one of\\nus. Moreover, the white man, a tower of strength in himself, was\\ninvulnerable, while Dain Waris could be killed. Those unexpressed\\nthoughts guided the opinions of the chief men of the town, who elected\\nto assemble in Jim's fort for deliberation upon the emergency, as if\\nexpecting\",\n \"the night. Doramin, struggling to\\nkeep his feet, made with his two supporters a swaying, tottering group;\\nhis little eyes stared with an expression of mad pain, of rage, with\\na ferocious glitter, which the bystanders noticed; and then, while Jim\\nstood stiffened and with bared head in the light of torches, looking him\\nstraight in the face, he clung heavily with his left arm round the neck\\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\\nfriend through the chest.\\n\\n'The crowd\",\n \"le. The tone of this last \\\"but\\nyou\\\" (poor Brierly couldn't help it), that seemed to imply I was no\\nmore noticeable than an insect, caused me to look at the proposal with\\nindignation, and on account of that provocation, or for some other\\nreason, I became positive in my mind that the inquiry was a severe\\npunishment to that Jim, and that his facing it--practically of his own\\nfree will--was a redeeming feature in his abominable case. I hadn't been\\nso sure of it before\",\n \"imagined he was hopeless.\\nThen it was that our glances met. They met, and the look he gave me was\\ndiscouraging of any intention I might have had to speak to him. Upon\\neither hypothesis--insolence or despair--I felt I could be of no use to\\nhim. This was the second day of the proceedings. Very soon after that\\nexchange of glances the inquiry was adjourned again to the next day. The\\nwhite men began to troop out at once. Jim had been told to stand down\\nsome time before, and was able to leave amongst\",\n \"each taking\\na little of your substance, each carrying away some crumb of that belief\\nin a few simple notions you must cling to if you want to live decently\\nand would like to die easy!\\n\\n'This has nothing to do with Jim, directly; only he was outwardly so\\ntypical of that good, stupid kind we like to feel marching right and\\nleft of us in life, of the kind that is not disturbed by the vagaries of\\nintelligence and the perversions of--of nerves, let us say. He was the\\nkind of fellow you would,\",\n \"fights, of the sudden\\noutbreaks that would fill this or that part of the settlement with\\nsmoke, flame, the noise of shots and shrieks. Villages were burnt, men\\nwere dragged into the Rajah's stockade to be killed or tortured for the\\ncrime of trading with anybody else but himself. Only a day or two before\\nJim's arrival several heads of households in the very fishing village\\nthat was afterwards taken under his especial protection had been driven\\nover the cliffs by a party of the Rajah's spearmen, on suspicion of\\nh\",\n \"\\nremorse, submissions, revolt. The heaven and the earth must not be\\nshaken, I suppose--at least, not by us who know so many truths about\\neither. My last words about Jim shall be few. I affirm he had achieved\\ngreatness; but the thing would be dwarfed in the telling, or rather in\\nthe hearing. Frankly, it is not my words that I mistrust but your minds.\\nI could be eloquent were I not afraid you fellows had starved your\\nimaginations to feed your bodies. I do not mean\",\n \"laughter is unseemly.\\nAre they not cruel, bloodthirsty robbers bent on killing?\\\" \\\"Let her be,\\\"\\nsaid Jim, and as a silence fell suddenly, he said slowly, \\\"Everybody\\nshall be safe.\\\" He entered the house before the great sigh, and the loud\\nmurmurs of satisfaction, had died out.\\n\\n'There's no doubt his mind was made up that Brown should have his way\\nclear back to the sea. His fate, revolted, was forcing his hand. He\\nhad for the first time to affirm his will in the face of\"\n ],\n [\n \"slowly\\naboard, handsome and grave in his white gown and large turban. A string\\nof servants followed, loaded with his luggage; the Patna cast off and\\nbacked away from the wharf.\\n\\nShe was headed between two small islets, crossed obliquely the\\nanchoring-ground of sailing-ships, swung through half a circle in the\\nshadow of a hill, then ranged close to a ledge of foaming reefs. The\\nArab, standing up aft, recited aloud the prayer of travellers by sea.\\nHe invoked the\",\n \"ain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna.\\n\\nThe Patna was a local steamer as old as the hills, lean like a\\ngreyhound, and eaten up with rust worse than a condemned water-tank. She\\nwas owned by a Chinaman, chartered by an Arab, and commanded by a sort\\nof renegade New South Wales German, very anxious to curse publicly\\nhis native country, but who, apparently on the strength of Bismarck's\",\n \", enveloped in a fulgor\\nof sunshine that killed all thought, oppressed the heart, withered all\\nimpulses of strength and energy. And under the sinister splendour of\\nthat sky the sea, blue and profound, remained still, without a stir,\\nwithout a ripple, without a wrinkle--viscous, stagnant, dead. The\\nPatna, with a slight hiss, passed over that plain, luminous and smooth,\\nunrolled a black ribbon of smoke across the sky, left behind her on the\\nwater a white ribbon\",\n \"he could not make out began to converse\\ndrowsily, and also, he could not tell where, he detected a curious\\nnoise of shuffling feet. Above these faint sounds there was that awful\\nstillness preceding a catastrophe, that trying silence of the moment\\nbefore the crash; then it came into his head that perhaps he would have\\ntime to rush along and cut all the lanyards of the gripes, so that the\\nboats would float as the ship went down.\\n\\n'The Patna had a long bridge, and all the boats were up there,\",\n \", seemed to shed upon the earth the assurance\\nof everlasting security. The young moon recurved, and shining low in the\\nwest, was like a slender shaving thrown up from a bar of gold, and the\\nArabian Sea, smooth and cool to the eye like a sheet of ice, extended\\nits perfect level to the perfect circle of a dark horizon. The propeller\\nturned without a check, as though its beat had been part of the scheme\\nof a safe universe; and on each side of the Patna two deep folds of\\nwater, permanent and sombre on the\",\n \"able he thought himself cut off from them by a space that could\\nnot be traversed, by an obstacle that could not be overcome, by a chasm\\nwithout bottom. He was as far as he could get from them--the whole\\nbreadth of the ship.\\n\\n'His feet were glued to that remote spot and his eyes to their\\nindistinct group bowed together and swaying strangely in the common\\ntorment of fear. A hand-lamp lashed to a stanchion above a little table\\nrigged up on the bridge--the Patna had no chart-room\",\n \"against the wall, and looking himself\\nas incapable of an emotional display as a sack of meal. There happened\\nto be a man-of-war and an Indian Marine steamer in the harbour at the\\ntime, and he did not conceal his admiration of the efficient manner in\\nwhich the boats of these two ships cleared the Patna of her passengers.\\nIndeed his torpid demeanour concealed nothing: it had that mysterious,\\nalmost miraculous, power of producing striking effects by means\\nimpossible of detection which is the last word of the highest art.\\n\\\"Tw\",\n \"and ugly as a fact can well be. The whole waterside talked\\nof nothing else. First thing in the morning as I was dressing in my\\nstate-room, I would hear through the bulkhead my Parsee Dubash jabbering\\nabout the Patna with the steward, while he drank a cup of tea,\\nby favour, in the pantry. No sooner on shore I would meet some\\nacquaintance, and the first remark would be, \\\"Did you ever hear of\\nanything to beat this?\\\" and according to his kind the man would smile\\ncynically, or look\",\n \"detected the soft spot, the place of decay, the\\ndetermination to lounge safely through existence.\\n\\nTo Jim that gossiping crowd, viewed as seamen, seemed at first more\\nunsubstantial than so many shadows. But at length he found a fascination\\nin the sight of those men, in their appearance of doing so well on\\nsuch a small allowance of danger and toil. In time, beside the original\\ndisdain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna\",\n \"A hand-lamp lashed to a stanchion above a little table\\nrigged up on the bridge--the Patna had no chart-room amidships--threw a\\nlight on their labouring shoulders, on their arched and bobbing backs.\\nThey pushed at the bow of the boat; they pushed out into the night; they\\npushed, and would no more look back at him. They had given him up as if\\nindeed he had been too far, too hopelessly separated from themselves, to\\nbe worth an appealing word, a glance, or a sign. They had no\",\n \"that don't go anywhere in particular.\\\"\\nI was too concerned at the news to ask for the explanation of that\\npronouncement, and he went on. \\\"He left--let's see--the very day a\\nsteamer with returning pilgrims from the Red Sea put in here with\\ntwo blades of her propeller gone. Three weeks ago now.\\\" \\\"Wasn't there\\nsomething said about the Patna case?\\\" I asked, fearing the worst. He\\ngave a start, and looked at me as if I had been a sorcerer. \\\"Why, yes!\",\n \"it might have struck the officers of the\\nAvondale that there was \\\"something fishy\\\" in the affair; but of course\\nthey would keep their doubts to themselves. They had picked up the\\ncaptain, the mate, and two engineers of the steamer Patna sunk at sea,\\nand that, very properly, was enough for them. I did not ask Jim about\\nthe nature of his feelings during the ten days he spent on board. From\\nthe way he narrated that part I was at liberty to infer he was partly\\nstunned by the discovery he had made--the discovery about himself\",\n \"\\n'The authorities were evidently of the same opinion. The inquiry was not\\nadjourned. It was held on the appointed day to satisfy the law, and it\\nwas well attended because of its human interest, no doubt. There was no\\nincertitude as to facts--as to the one material fact, I mean. How the\\nPatna came by her hurt it was impossible to find out; the court did not\\nexpect to find out; and in the whole audience there was not a man who\\ncared. Yet, as I've told you, all the sailors in the port attended\",\n \"had heard shouts? No? Well, I did. Shouts for help . . . blown along\\nwith the drizzle. Imagination, I suppose. And yet I can hardly . . . How\\nstupid. . . . The others did not. I asked them afterwards. They all\\nsaid No. No? And I was hearing them even then! I might have known--but\\nI didn't think--I only listened. Very faint screams--day after day. Then\\nthat little half-caste chap here came up and spoke to me. 'The\\nPatna . .\",\n \"in a\\ndelicate question as in a wisp of floss silk. I was delicate selfishly;\\nI did not want to startle him; I had no solicitude for him; I was not\\nfurious with him and sorry for him: his experience was of no importance,\\nhis redemption would have had no point for me. He had grown old in minor\\niniquities, and could no longer inspire aversion or pity. He repeated\\nPatna? interrogatively, seemed to make a short effort of memory, and\\nsaid: \\\"Quite right. I am an old st\",\n \"repeated\\nPatna? interrogatively, seemed to make a short effort of memory, and\\nsaid: \\\"Quite right. I am an old stager out here. I saw her go down.\\\" I\\nmade ready to vent my indignation at such a stupid lie, when he added\\nsmoothly, \\\"She was full of reptiles.\\\"\\n\\n'This made me pause. What did he mean? The unsteady phantom of terror\\nbehind his glassy eyes seemed to stand still and look into mine\\nwistfully. \\\"They turned me out of my bunk in the middle\",\n \", and\\nlittle by little it dawned upon Archie that this was a development of\\nthe Patna case. He says that as soon as he understood who it was before\\nhim he felt quite unwell--Archie is so sympathetic and easily upset--but\\npulled himself together and shouted \\\"Stop! I can't listen to you. You\\nmust go to the Master Attendant. I can't possibly listen to you. Captain\\nElliot is the man you want to see. This way, this way.\\\" He jumped\\nup, ran round that long counter, pulled, shoved:\",\n \"and almost\\nclimbing on each other's backs. Quite a riot. By that time the fellow\\nhad managed to tug and jerk his hat clear of his head, and advanced with\\nslight bows at Ruthvel, who told me the sight was so discomposing that\\nfor some time he listened, quite unable to make out what that apparition\\nwanted. It spoke in a voice harsh and lugubrious but intrepid, and\\nlittle by little it dawned upon Archie that this was a development of\\nthe Patna case. He says that as soon as he\",\n \"and low like a capricious\\nfeather in a faint stir of air. He and the chief engineer had been\\ncronies for a good few years--serving the same jovial, crafty, old\\nChinaman, with horn-rimmed goggles and strings of red silk plaited into\\nthe venerable grey hairs of his pigtail. The quay-side opinion in the\\nPatna's home-port was that these two in the way of brazen peculation\\n'had done together pretty well everything you can think of.' Outwardly\\nthey\",\n \"flung open the door without knocking. \\\"The master of the Patna, sir,\\\"\\nhe shouts. \\\"Go in, captain.\\\" He saw the old man lift his head from some\\nwriting so sharp that his nose-nippers fell off, banged the door to, and\\nfled to his desk, where he had some papers waiting for his signature:\\nbut he says the row that burst out in there was so awful that he\\ncouldn't collect his senses sufficiently to remember the spelling of\\nhis own name. Archie's the most sensitive shipping-master in the two\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"ages. They stopped him at last. A silence fell upon\\nthe court,--a silence that remained unbroken for at least a minute, and\\npassed gently into a deep murmur. This episode was the sensation of\\nthe second day's proceedings--affecting all the audience, affecting\\neverybody except Jim, who was sitting moodily at the end of the first\\nbench, and never looked up at this extraordinary and damning witness\\nthat seemed possessed of some mysterious theory of defence.\\n\\n'So these two lascars stuck to the helm of that ship without\\nsteerage-\",\n \"of the crew were sleeping on the number one hatch within reach of\\nmy arm,\\\" began Jim again.\\n\\n'You must know they kept Kalashee watch in that ship, all hands sleeping\\nthrough the night, and only the reliefs of quartermasters and look-out\\nmen being called. He was tempted to grip and shake the shoulder of the\\nnearest lascar, but he didn't. Something held his arms down along his\\nsides. He was not afraid--oh no! only he just couldn't--that's all. He\\nwas not afraid of death perhaps\",\n \"less it had for its object the killing of a donkeyman and the bringing\\nof worse than death upon Jim, appeared an utterly aimless piece of\\ndevilry. This view occurring to me took off my attention. For a time I\\nwas aware of the magistrate's voice as a sound merely; but in a moment\\nit shaped itself into distinct words . . . \\\"in utter disregard of their\\nplain duty,\\\" it said. The next sentence escaped me somehow, and\\nthen . . . \\\"abandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property\\nconfided to their charge\\\"\",\n \"--do you think I've been done\\nto that extent?\\\" he inquired very earnest and deliberate. The band moved\\naway, dropping into chairs as they went; matches flared, illuminating\\nfor a second faces without the ghost of an expression and the flat glaze\\nof white shirt-fronts; the hum of many conversations animated with the\\nardour of feasting sounded to me absurd and infinitely remote.\\n\\n'\\\"Some of the crew were sleeping on the number one hatch within reach of\\nmy arm,\\\" began Jim again.\\n\\n'You must know they kept Kalas\",\n \"in his face, in his movements, in his very voice when\\nhe said \\\"They shouted\\\"--and involuntarily I pricked up my ears for\\nthe ghost of that shout that would be heard directly through the false\\neffect of silence. \\\"There were eight hundred people in that ship,\\\" he\\nsaid, impaling me to the back of my seat with an awful blank stare.\\n\\\"Eight hundred living people, and they were yelling after the one dead\\nman to come down and be saved. 'Jump, George! Jump! Oh, jump!' I stood\\nby with my hand on\",\n \"in the\\nhalf-light of the big court-room where the audience seemed composed of\\nstaring shadows. They wanted facts. Facts! They demanded facts from him,\\nas if facts could explain anything!\\n\\n'After you had concluded you had collided with something floating awash,\\nsay a water-logged wreck, you were ordered by your captain to go forward\\nand ascertain if there was any damage done. Did you think it likely from\\nthe force of the blow?' asked the assessor sitting to the left. He had\\na thin horseshoe beard, salient cheek-bones\",\n \"their doing as plainly as if they had reached up with a boat-hook and\\npulled me over. Can't you see it? You must see it. Come. Speak--straight\\nout.\\\"\\n\\n'His uneasy eyes fastened upon mine, questioned, begged, challenged,\\nentreated. For the life of me I couldn't help murmuring, \\\"You've been\\ntried.\\\" \\\"More than is fair,\\\" he caught up swiftly. \\\"I wasn't given half\\na chance--with a gang like that. And now they were friendly--oh,\",\n \", fearing the worst. He\\ngave a start, and looked at me as if I had been a sorcerer. \\\"Why, yes!\\nHow do you know? Some of them were talking about it here. There was a\\ncaptain or two, the manager of Vanlo's engineering shop at the harbour,\\ntwo or three others, and myself. Jim was in here too, having a sandwich\\nand a glass of beer; when we are busy--you see, captain--there's no time\\nfor a proper tiffin. He was standing by this table eating sandw\",\n \"was to come down upon the consequences, and\\nfrankly, a casual police magistrate and two nautical assessors are not\\nmuch good for anything else. I don't mean to imply these fellows were\\nstupid. The magistrate was very patient. One of the assessors was a\\nsailing-ship skipper with a reddish beard, and of a pious disposition.\\nBrierly was the other. Big Brierly. Some of you must have heard of Big\\nBrierly--the captain of the crack ship of the Blue Star line. That'\",\n \"stuck to it that\\nthere was nothing to be seen after the first shower had cleared away;\\nand the others had affirmed the same thing to the officers of the\\nAvondale. Of course people shook their heads and smiled. One old skipper\\nwho sat near me in court tickled my ear with his white beard to murmur,\\n\\\"Of course they would lie.\\\" As a matter of fact nobody lied; not even\\nthe chief engineer with his story of the mast-head light dropping like a\\nmatch you throw down. Not consciously, at least. A man with his liver in\\nsuch a state\",\n \"A month or so afterwards, when Jim, in answer to pointed questions,\\ntried to tell honestly the truth of this experience, he said, speaking\\nof the ship: 'She went over whatever it was as easy as a snake crawling\\nover a stick.' The illustration was good: the questions were aiming at\\nfacts, and the official Inquiry was being held in the police court of an\\nEastern port. He stood elevated in the witness-box, with burning cheeks\\nin a cool lofty room: the big framework of punkahs moved gently to and\\nfro high above his\",\n \"and said\\nthat there was no more reading of hearts than touching the sky with the\\nhand, but--he consented. The others gave their opinion in turn. \\\"It is\\nbest,\\\" \\\"Let them go,\\\" and so on. But most of them simply said that they\\n\\\"believed Tuan Jim.\\\"\\n\\n'In this simple form of assent to his will lies the whole gist of\\nthe situation; their creed, his truth; and the testimony to that\\nfaithfulness which made him in his own eyes the equal of the\\nimpeccable men who never fall out of the\",\n \"pieces. The chief engineer advised him to humour me. He\\nsaid I wasn't right in my head yet. The other rose astern, like a thick\\npillar of flesh--and talked--talked. . . .\\\"\\n\\n'Jim remained thoughtful. \\\"Well?\\\" I said. \\\"What did I care what story\\nthey agreed to make up?\\\" he cried recklessly. \\\"They could tell what they\\njolly well liked. It was their business. I knew the story. Nothing\\nthey could make people believe could alter it for me. I let him talk,\\nargue\",\n \", and, actually,\\nmustered enough pluck to run an errand to the engine-room. No trifle, it\\nmust be owned in fairness to him. Jim told me he darted desperate looks\\nlike a cornered man, gave one low wail, and dashed off. He was back\\ninstantly clambering, hammer in hand, and without a pause flung himself\\nat the bolt. The others gave up Jim at once and ran off to assist.\\nHe heard the tap, tap of the hammer, the sound of the released chock\\nfalling over. The boat\",\n \"way giving him the slightest chance of attaining\\nhis ends--he argued in a fit of coughing. But he didn't tell Jim this.\\nAs to the hardships and starvation they had gone through, these had been\\nvery real; it was enough to look at his band. He made, at the sound of a\\nshrill whistle, all his men appear standing in a row on the logs in full\\nview, so that Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war\",\n \"At it they\\nwent, as if trying to drive me overboard with the noise! . . . 'I wonder\\nyou had pluck enough to jump. You ain't wanted here. If I had known who\\nit was, I would have tipped you over--you skunk! What have you done with\\nthe other? Where did you get the pluck to jump--you coward? What's to\\nprevent us three from firing you overboard?' . . . They were out of\\nbreath; the shower passed away upon the sea. Then nothing. There was\\nnothing round the\",\n \"which he began again. He wanted it over. He was severely left\\nalone, and he formulated in his head this address to the ship in a\\ntone of imprecation, while at the same time he enjoyed the privilege of\\nwitnessing scenes--as far as I can judge--of low comedy. They were still\\nat that bolt. The skipper was ordering, \\\"Get under and try to lift\\\"; and\\nthe others naturally shirked. You understand that to be squeezed flat\\nunder the keel of a boat wasn't a desirable position to be caught in if\\nthe ship went\",\n \"of material things, there are as many shipwrecks as there are men, and\\nin this one there was something abject which made the isolation more\\ncomplete--there was a villainy of circumstances that cut these men off\\nmore completely from the rest of mankind, whose ideal of conduct had\\nnever undergone the trial of a fiendish and appalling joke. They were\\nexasperated with him for being a half-hearted shirker: he focussed on\\nthem his hatred of the whole thing; he would have liked to take a signal\\nrevenge for\",\n \"it might have struck the officers of the\\nAvondale that there was \\\"something fishy\\\" in the affair; but of course\\nthey would keep their doubts to themselves. They had picked up the\\ncaptain, the mate, and two engineers of the steamer Patna sunk at sea,\\nand that, very properly, was enough for them. I did not ask Jim about\\nthe nature of his feelings during the ten days he spent on board. From\\nthe way he narrated that part I was at liberty to infer he was partly\\nstunned by the discovery he had made--the discovery about himself\",\n \"\\n'The authorities were evidently of the same opinion. The inquiry was not\\nadjourned. It was held on the appointed day to satisfy the law, and it\\nwas well attended because of its human interest, no doubt. There was no\\nincertitude as to facts--as to the one material fact, I mean. How the\\nPatna came by her hurt it was impossible to find out; the court did not\\nexpect to find out; and in the whole audience there was not a man who\\ncared. Yet, as I've told you, all the sailors in the port attended\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\\"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\\\"\\ncommented Brown half aloud. \\\"No, no. The proper way is to kill him the\\nfirst chance you get, and then you can do what you like,\\\" Cornelius\\nwould insist earnestly. \\\"I have lived for many years here, and I am\\ngiving you a friend's advice.\\\"\\n\\n'In such converse and in gloating over the view of Patusan, which he had\\ndetermined in his mind should become his prey, Brown whiled away most\\nof the afternoon\",\n \"\\\"No!\\\" shouted Jim in\\na passion. \\\"I have not, and I don't intend to. I am going to live here,\\nin Patusan.\\\" \\\"You shall d-d-die h-h-here,\\\" answered Cornelius,\\nstill shaking violently, and in a sort of expiring voice. The whole\\nperformance was so absurd and provoking that Jim didn't know whether he\\nought to be amused or angry. \\\"Not till I have seen you tucked away,\\nyou bet,\\\" he called out, exasperated yet ready to laugh. Half seriously\\n\",\n \"ear, and evidently I had given him food for thought. Strangely enough,\\non the evening of that very day (which was my last in Patusan) I was\\nonce more confronted with the same question, with the unanswerable why\\nof Jim's fate. And this brings me to the story of his love.\\n\\n'I suppose you think it is a story that you can imagine for yourselves.\\nWe have heard so many such stories, and the majority of us don't believe\\nthem to be stories of love at all. For the most part we look upon them\",\n \"\\n'Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing; but to them, as to\\nmany of us, the blessing came heralded by terrors. So many generations\\nhad been released since the last white man had visited the river that\\nthe very tradition had been lost. The appearance of the being that\\ndescended upon them and demanded inflexibly to be taken up to Patusan\\nwas discomposing; his insistence was alarming; his generosity more than\\nsuspicious. It was an unheard-of request. There was no precedent. What\\nw\",\n \"--it is said--even jumped down to the\\nground--fifteen feet, I should judge--and broke his leg. The royal\\ngovernor of Patusan had bizarre mannerisms, and one of them was to\\nintroduce boastful rhapsodies into every arduous discussion, when,\\ngetting gradually excited, he would end by flying off his perch with a\\nkriss in his hand. But, barring such interruptions, the deliberations\\nupon Jim's fate went on night and day.\\n\\n'Meanwhile he wandered about the cour\",\n \"as an astronomer, I should fancy, would strongly object to being\\ntransported into a distant heavenly body, where, parted from his earthly\\nemoluments, he would be bewildered by the view of an unfamiliar heavens.\\nHowever, neither heavenly bodies nor astronomers have anything to do\\nwith Patusan. It was Jim who went there. I only meant you to understand\\nthat had Stein arranged to send him into a star of the fifth magnitude\\nthe change could not have been greater. He left his earthly failings\\nbehind him and what sort of reputation he had\",\n \"\\ndrooping on each side of his thick, dark lips, came forward smirking. He\\nturned out, notwithstanding his self-satisfied and cheery exterior, to\\nbe of a careworn temperament. In answer to a remark of mine (while Jim\\nhad gone below for a moment) he said, \\\"Oh yes. Patusan.\\\" He was going to\\ncarry the gentleman to the mouth of the river, but would \\\"never ascend.\\\"\\nHis flowing English seemed to be derived from a dictionary compiled by\\na lunatic. Had Mr. Stein desired him to \\\"\",\n \"other point I was perfectly frank with him, and I even (as\\nI believed at the time) exaggerated the danger of the undertaking. As\\na matter of fact I did not do it justice; his first day in Patusan was\\nnearly his last--would have been his last if he had not been so reckless\\nor so hard on himself and had condescended to load that revolver. I\\nremember, as I unfolded our precious scheme for his retreat, how his\\nstubborn but weary resignation was gradually replaced by surprise,\\ninterest, wonder, and by\",\n \"farers. She had been carried off to Patusan before her eyes\\nwere open. She had grown up there; she had seen nothing, she had known\\nnothing, she had no conception of anything. I ask myself whether she\\nwere sure that anything else existed. What notions she may have formed\\nof the outside world is to me inconceivable: all that she knew of its\\ninhabitants were a betrayed woman and a sinister pantaloon. Her lover\\nalso came to her from there, gifted with irresistible seductions; but\\nwhat would become\",\n \"in some commercial house in\\nthe Dutch colonies. I gathered from Stein that this man was an\\nunsatisfactory person in more ways than one, all being more or less\\nindefinite and offensive. It was solely for his wife's sake that Stein\\nhad appointed him manager of Stein & Co.'s trading post in Patusan;\\nbut commercially the arrangement was not a success, at any rate for\\nthe firm, and now the woman had died, Stein was disposed to try another\\nagent there. The Portuguese, whose name was Cornelius, considered\\nhimself a very des\",\n \", I believe, on\\npurely religious grounds, had incited the tribes in the interior (the\\nbush-folk, as Jim himself called them) to rise, and had established\\nhimself in a fortified camp on the summit of one of the twin hills. He\\nhung over the town of Patusan like a hawk over a poultry-yard, but he\\ndevastated the open country. Whole villages, deserted, rotted on their\\nblackened posts over the banks of clear streams, dropping piecemeal into\\nthe water the grass of their walls, the leaves\",\n \"\\n'Perhaps he had heard of Patusan--or perhaps he just only happened to\\nsee the name written in small letters on the chart--probably that of a\\nlargish village up a river in a native state, perfectly defenceless, far\\nfrom the beaten tracks of the sea and from the ends of submarine cables.\\nHe had done that kind of thing before--in the way of business;\\nand this now was an absolute necessity, a question of life and\\ndeath--or rather of liberty. Of liberty! He was sure to get\\nprovisions--bullocks--\",\n \"after a silence occupied in the careful lighting of a cigar. 'It does\\nnot matter; there's many a heavenly body in the lot crowding upon us of\\na night that mankind had never heard of, it being outside the sphere\\nof its activities and of no earthly importance to anybody but to the\\nastronomers who are paid to talk learnedly about its composition,\\nweight, path--the irregularities of its conduct, the aberrations of its\\nlight--a sort of scientific scandal-mongering. Thus with Patusan. It\\nwas referred to knowingly in the\",\n \"ing without\\ndismay ill-luck, censure, and disaster. The smuggling of a few guns was\\nno great crime, he pointed out. As to coming to Patusan, who had the\\nright to say he hadn't come to beg? The infernal people here let loose\\nat him from both banks without staying to ask questions. He made\\nthe point brazenly, for, in truth, Dain Waris's energetic action had\\nprevented the greatest calamities; because Brown told me distinctly\\nthat, perceiving the size of the place,\",\n \"full of it that he could not\\nhelp telling the girl all about it at once. She listened, clapped her\\nhands lightly, whispered softly her admiration, but was evidently on the\\nalert all the time. It seems he had been used to make a confidant of\\nher all along--and that she on her part could and did give him a lot of\\nuseful hints as to Patusan affairs there is no doubt. He assured me more\\nthan once that he had never found himself the worse for her advice. At\\nany rate, he was proceeding to explain his plan fully\",\n \"detailed and amazing impression of a dream.\\nWhy should she fear? She knew him to be strong, true, wise, brave. He\\nwas all that. Certainly. He was more. He was great--invincible--and the\\nworld did not want him, it had forgotten him, it would not even know\\nhim.\\n\\n'I stopped; the silence over Patusan was profound, and the feeble dry\\nsound of a paddle striking the side of a canoe somewhere in the middle\\nof the river seemed to make it infinite. \\\"Why?\\\" she murmured. I felt\\nthat sort\",\n \"to the helm. When he turned to me\\nagain it was to speak judicially, without passion. He would take the\\ngentleman to the mouth of the river at Batu Kring (Patusan town \\\"being\\nsituated internally,\\\" he remarked, \\\"thirty miles\\\"). But in his eyes,\\nhe continued--a tone of bored, weary conviction replacing his previous\\nvoluble delivery--the gentleman was already \\\"in the similitude of a\\ncorpse.\\\" \\\"What? What do you say?\\\" I asked. He assumed a startlingly\\nferocious de\",\n \"it floated away above the summits, as if escaping from a yawning grave\\nin gentle triumph. \\\"Wonderful effect,\\\" said Jim by my side. \\\"Worth\\nseeing. Is it not?\\\"\\n\\n'And this question was put with a note of personal pride that made me\\nsmile, as though he had had a hand in regulating that unique spectacle.\\nHe had regulated so many things in Patusan--things that would have\\nappeared as much beyond his control as the motions of the moon and the\\nstars.\\n\\n'It was\",\n \"iness. She left the room, and\\nhe followed her; in the passage they disturbed an old hag who did the\\ncasual cooking of the household, though she was so decrepit as to be\\nhardly able to understand human speech. She got up and hobbled behind\\nthem, mumbling toothlessly. On the verandah a hammock of sail-cloth,\\nbelonging to Cornelius, swayed lightly to the touch of Jim's elbow. It\\nwas empty.\\n\\n'The Patusan establishment, like all the posts of Stein's Tr\",\n \"for a talk.\\nTamb' Itam himself hoped there would be some fighting. \\\"What was it but\\nthe taking of another hill?\\\" he exclaimed regretfully. However, in the\\ntown many hoped that the rapacious strangers would be induced, by the\\nsight of so many brave men making ready to fight, to go away. It would\\nbe a good thing if they went away. Since Jim's arrival had been made\\nknown before daylight by the gun fired from the fort and the beating of\\nthe big drum there, the fear that had hung over Patusan had broken and\\nsub\"\n ],\n [\n \"ombay, in Calcutta, in Rangoon, in Penang, in Batavia--and in each of\\nthese halting-places was just Jim the water-clerk. Afterwards, when his\\nkeen perception of the Intolerable drove him away for good from seaports\\nand white men, even into the virgin forest, the Malays of the jungle\\nvillage, where he had elected to conceal his deplorable faculty, added a\\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\\none might say\",\n \"seen. He called him Tuan\\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at\",\n \"\\n\\n'The defeated Sherif Ali fled the country without making another stand,\\nand when the miserable hunted villagers began to crawl out of the jungle\\nback to their rotting houses, it was Jim who, in consultation with Dain\\nWaris, appointed the headmen. Thus he became the virtual ruler of the\\nland. As to old Tunku Allang, his fears at first had known no bounds. It\\nis said that at the intelligence of the successful storming of the hill\\nhe flung himself, face down, on the bamboo floor of his audience-hall,\\n\",\n \"ing in his own fashion upon\\nthe events of the last three years. Brown, who, apparently indifferent\\nand gazing away, listened with attention to every word, could not make\\nout clearly what sort of man this Jim could be. \\\"What's his name?\\nJim! Jim! That's not enough for a man's name.\\\" \\\"They call him,\\\" said\\nCornelius scornfully, \\\"Tuan Jim here. As you may say Lord Jim.\\\" \\\"What is\\nhe? Where does he come from?\\\" inquired Brown. \\\"What sort of man is he?\",\n \"up. \\\"Why do you stand here?\\\" he asked\\nvery red-faced. \\\"Waste no time.\\\" Tamb' Itam did not move. \\\"Forgive me,\\nTuan, but . . . but,\\\" he began to stammer. \\\"What?\\\" cried his master\\naloud, looking terrible, leaning forward with his hands gripping the\\nedge of the bed. \\\"It is not safe for thy servant to go out amongst the\\npeople,\\\" said Tamb' Itam, after hesitating a moment.\\n\\n'Then Jim understood. He had retreated from one world, for a small\\nm\",\n \"on the house; and the girl, in the doorway, panting\\nas if she had run herself to a standstill, was looking at him across the\\nyard. Tamb' Itam stood not far from his master, waiting patiently for\\nwhat might happen. All at once Jim, who seemed to be lost in quiet\\nthought, turned to him and said, \\\"Time to finish this.\\\"\\n\\n'\\\"Tuan?\\\" said Tamb' Itam, advancing with alacrity. He did not know what\\nhis master meant, but as soon as Jim made a movement the girl started\\ntoo and\",\n \"and said\\nthat there was no more reading of hearts than touching the sky with the\\nhand, but--he consented. The others gave their opinion in turn. \\\"It is\\nbest,\\\" \\\"Let them go,\\\" and so on. But most of them simply said that they\\n\\\"believed Tuan Jim.\\\"\\n\\n'In this simple form of assent to his will lies the whole gist of\\nthe situation; their creed, his truth; and the testimony to that\\nfaithfulness which made him in his own eyes the equal of the\\nimpeccable men who never fall out of the\",\n \"\\nwithout did not hear him make a sound. Later, towards the evening, he\\ncame to the door and called for Tamb' Itam. \\\"Well?\\\" he asked. \\\"There is\\nmuch weeping. Much anger too,\\\" said Tamb' Itam. Jim looked up at him.\\n\\\"You know,\\\" he murmured. \\\"Yes, Tuan,\\\" said Tamb' Itam. \\\"Thy servant does\\nknow, and the gates are closed. We shall have to fight.\\\" \\\"Fight! What\\nfor?\\\" he asked. \\\"For our lives.\\\" \\\"I have no life,\\\" he said. Tamb\",\n \"way up in three tides without being exposed to a fusillade from\\n\\\"irresponsive parties.\\\" Such a state of affairs belonged already to\\nancient history, if I could believe the elderly headman of the fishing\\nvillage, who came on board to act as a sort of pilot. He talked to me\\n(the second white man he had ever seen) with confidence, and most of his\\ntalk was about the first white man he had ever seen. He called him Tuan\\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\\nmixture of familiarity and awe\",\n \"separate her fingers. Jim, bending\\nover her, looked earnestly upon her face, and all at once ran to the\\nlanding-stage. Tamb' Itam followed him, but turning his head, he saw\\nthat she had struggled up to her feet. She ran after them a few steps,\\nthen fell down heavily on her knees. \\\"Tuan! Tuan!\\\" called Tamb' Itam,\\n\\\"look back;\\\" but Jim was already in a canoe, standing up paddle in hand.\\nHe did not look back. Tamb' Itam had just time to scramble in after\\n\",\n \"at\\nonce. \\\"This, Tuan, is a day of evil, an accursed day.\\\" His master raised\\nhimself on his elbow to listen--just as Dain Waris had done. And then\\nTamb' Itam began his tale, trying to relate the story in order, calling\\nDain Waris Panglima, and saying: \\\"The Panglima then called out to the\\nchief of his own boatmen, 'Give Tamb' Itam something to eat'\\\"--when\\nhis master put his feet to the ground and looked at him with such a\\ndis\",\n \"were burning, inland on the outskirts of the town where\\nsmall parties of men kept guard in the fields. Tuan Jim gave his orders\\nand was obeyed. Last of all they went to the Rajah's stockade, which a\\ndetachment of Jim's people manned on that night. The old Rajah had fled\\nearly in the morning with most of his women to a small house he had\\nnear a jungle village on a tributary stream. Kassim, left behind, had\\nattended the council with his air of diligent activity to explain away\\n\",\n \"am I not? What more can I\\nwant? If you ask them who is brave--who is true--who is just--who is it\\nthey would trust with their lives?--they would say, Tuan Jim. And yet\\nthey can never know the real, real truth . . .\\\"\\n\\n'That's what he said to me on my last day with him. I did not let a\\nmurmur escape me: I felt he was going to say more, and come no nearer\\nto the root of the matter. The sun, whose concentrated glare dwarfs the\\nearth\",\n \"would naturally\\nfind his way to Stein's house. I returned his greeting and passed on. At\\nthe door of Stein's room I came upon another Malay in whom I recognised\\nTamb' Itam.\\n\\n'I asked him at once what he was doing there; it occurred to me that\\nJim might have come on a visit. I own I was pleased and excited at the\\nthought. Tamb' Itam looked as if he did not know what to say. \\\"Is Tuan\\nJim inside?\\\" I asked impatiently. \\\"No,\\\" he mumbled, hanging his\",\n \"plorable faculty, added a\\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\\none might say--Lord Jim.\\n\\nOriginally he came from a parsonage. Many commanders of fine\\nmerchant-ships come from these abodes of piety and peace. Jim's father\\npossessed such certain knowledge of the Unknowable as made for the\\nrighteousness of people in cottages without disturbing the ease of mind\\nof those whom an unerring Providence enables to live in mansions. The\\nlittle\",\n \"\\npowder in Patusan.\\\" She caught him by the arm, and, pointing at the\\nhouse, \\\"Call him out,\\\" she whispered, trembling.\\n\\n'Tamb' Itam ran up the steps. His master was sleeping. \\\"It is I, Tamb'\\nItam,\\\" he cried at the door, \\\"with tidings that cannot wait.\\\" He saw\\nJim turn over on the pillow and open his eyes, and he burst out at\\nonce. \\\"This, Tuan, is a day of evil, an accursed day.\\\" His master raised\\nhimself on his elbow to\",\n \"complimentary\\nwith his late captor. Oh! magnificent! I want to laugh when I think of\\nit. But I was impressed, too. The old disreputable Tunku Allang could\\nnot help showing his fear (he was no hero, for all the tales of his hot\\nyouth he was fond of telling); and at the same time there was a wistful\\nconfidence in his manner towards his late prisoner. Note! Even where he\\nwould be most hated he was still trusted. Jim--as far as I could follow\\nthe conversation--was improving the occasion by the delivery\",\n \"ued with him feebly. Some of the Bugis settlers, weary with\\nendless insecurity, were half inclined to call him in. The younger\\nspirits amongst them, chaffing, advised to \\\"get Sherif Ali with his wild\\nmen and drive the Rajah Allang out of the country.\\\" Doramin restrained\\nthem with difficulty. He was growing old, and, though his influence had\\nnot diminished, the situation was getting beyond him. This was the state\\nof affairs when Jim, bolting from the Rajah's stockade, appeared before\\nthe chief of\",\n \"where he\\nwould be most hated he was still trusted. Jim--as far as I could follow\\nthe conversation--was improving the occasion by the delivery of a\\nlecture. Some poor villagers had been waylaid and robbed while on their\\nway to Doramin's house with a few pieces of gum or beeswax which they\\nwished to exchange for rice. \\\"It was Doramin who was a thief,\\\" burst\\nout the Rajah. A shaking fury seemed to enter that old frail body.\\nHe writhed weirdly on his mat, gesticulating\",\n \"As you may say Lord Jim.\\\" \\\"What is\\nhe? Where does he come from?\\\" inquired Brown. \\\"What sort of man is he?\\nIs he an Englishman?\\\" \\\"Yes, yes, he's an Englishman. I am an Englishman\\ntoo. From Malacca. He is a fool. All you have to do is to kill him and\\nthen you are king here. Everything belongs to him,\\\" explained Cornelius.\\n\\\"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\\\"\\ncommented Brown half aloud. \\\"No, no. The proper\"\n ],\n [\n \"oe up on the strand. It was a big camp. Men crouched in many\\nlittle knots under a subdued murmur of early morning talk. Many thin\\nthreads of smoke curled slowly on the white mist. Little shelters,\\nelevated above the ground, had been built for the chiefs. Muskets were\\nstacked in small pyramids, and long spears were stuck singly into the\\nsand near the fires.\\n\\n'Tamb' Itam, assuming an air of importance, demanded to be led to Dain\\nWaris. He found\",\n \"\\nmany survivors of Dain Waris's party; but in the extremity of panic some\\nhad swum across the river, others had bolted into the bush. The fact is\\nthat they did not know really who struck that blow--whether more white\\nrobbers were not coming, whether they had not already got hold of\\nthe whole land. They imagined themselves to be the victims of a vast\\ntreachery, and utterly doomed to destruction. It is said that some small\\nparties did not come in till three days afterwards. However, a few tried\\nto make their way back to\",\n \"ended by their women-folk. The women\\nand children from the lower part of the town had been sent into the\\nfort at the first alarm. There Jewel was in command, very efficient and\\nhigh-spirited, obeyed by Jim's \\\"own people,\\\" who, quitting in a body\\ntheir little settlement under the stockade, had gone in to form the\\ngarrison. The refugees crowded round her; and through the whole affair,\\nto the very disastrous last, she showed an extraordinary martial ardour.\\nIt was to her that Dain Waris had gone\",\n \"ore and ran\\nin headlong. The first person he met was the girl coming down from the\\nhouse.\\n\\n'Tamb' Itam, disordered, panting, with trembling lips and wild eyes,\\nstood for a time before her as if a sudden spell had been laid on him.\\nThen he broke out very quickly: \\\"They have killed Dain Waris and many\\nmore.\\\" She clapped her hands, and her first words were, \\\"Shut the\\ngates.\\\" Most of the fortmen had gone back to their houses, but Tamb'\\nItam hurried on the few who\",\n \"charged with thunder.\\\" He told me that when Dain\\nWaris's body was uncovered at a sign of Doramin's, he whom they often\\ncalled the white lord's friend was disclosed lying unchanged with his\\neyelids a little open as if about to wake. Doramin leaned forward a\\nlittle more, like one looking for something fallen on the ground. His\\neyes searched the body from its feet to its head, for the wound maybe.\\nIt was in the forehead and small; and there was no word spoken while\\none of the by-standers, stoop\",\n \"near the fires.\\n\\n'Tamb' Itam, assuming an air of importance, demanded to be led to Dain\\nWaris. He found the friend of his white lord lying on a raised couch\\nmade of bamboo, and sheltered by a sort of shed of sticks covered with\\nmats. Dain Waris was awake, and a bright fire was burning before his\\nsleeping-place, which resembled a rude shrine. The only son of nakhoda\\nDoramin answered his greeting kindly. Tamb' Itam began by handing him\\nthe ring which vouched\",\n \"me approaching he cast himself\\nviolently on the ground and made a great outcry, kicking. He screeched\\nlike a frightened hen till he felt the point; then he was still, and lay\\nstaring at me while his life went out of his eyes.\\\"\\n\\n'This done, Tamb' Itam did not tarry. He understood the importance of\\nbeing the first with the awful news at the fort. There were, of course,\\nmany survivors of Dain Waris's party; but in the extremity of panic some\\nhad swum across the river, others had bolted\",\n \"power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and\\nadmired as he was, he was still one of _them_, while Jim was one of\\nus. Moreover, the white man, a tower of strength in himself, was\\ninvulnerable, while Dain Waris could be killed. Those unexpressed\\nthoughts guided the opinions of the chief men of the town, who elected\\nto assemble in Jim's fort for deliberation upon the emergency, as if\\nexpecting\",\n \"fierce-faced, heavy, looking at the\\nspeakers in turn, and breathing slow like a bull. He didn't speak till\\nthe last, after Kassim had declared that the Rajah's boats would be\\ncalled in because the men were required to defend his master's stockade.\\nDain Waris in his father's presence would offer no opinion, though the\\ngirl entreated him in Jim's name to speak out. She offered him Jim's own\\nmen in her anxiety to have these intruders driven out at once. He only\\nshook his head, after\",\n \"at\\nonce. \\\"This, Tuan, is a day of evil, an accursed day.\\\" His master raised\\nhimself on his elbow to listen--just as Dain Waris had done. And then\\nTamb' Itam began his tale, trying to relate the story in order, calling\\nDain Waris Panglima, and saying: \\\"The Panglima then called out to the\\nchief of his own boatmen, 'Give Tamb' Itam something to eat'\\\"--when\\nhis master put his feet to the ground and looked at him with such a\\ndis\",\n \"and what do\\nyou get for it? You might have had money from the Rajah, besides the\\nloot of all the Bugis houses, and now you get nothing.\\\" \\\"You had better\\nclear out from here,\\\" growled Brown, without even looking at him. But\\nCornelius let himself drop by his side and began to whisper very fast,\\ntouching his elbow from time to time. What he had to say made Brown sit\\nup at first, with a curse. He had simply informed him of Dain Waris's\\narmed party down the river. At first Brown saw himself completely\",\n \"view, cursing and yelling, \\\"Aim low! aim low!\\\"\\n\\n'Tamb' Itam says that, as for him, he understood at the first volley\\nwhat had happened. Though untouched he fell down and lay as if dead,\\nbut with his eyes open. At the sound of the first shots Dain Waris,\\nreclining on the couch, jumped up and ran out upon the open shore, just\\nin time to receive a bullet in his forehead at the second discharge.\\nTamb' Itam saw him fling his arms wide open before he fell.\",\n \"w chilling his very bones; how afraid he was he\\nwould begin to shiver and shake like a leaf before the time came for\\nthe advance. \\\"It was the slowest half-hour in my life,\\\" he declared.\\nGradually the silent stockade came out on the sky above him. Men\\nscattered all down the slope were crouching amongst the dark stones and\\ndripping bushes. Dain Waris was lying flattened by his side. \\\"We\\nlooked at each other,\\\" Jim said, resting a gentle hand on his friend's\\nshoulder. \\\"He smiled\",\n \", and the other\\nburst into an amazing noise of yells, war-cries, shouts of anger, of\\nsurprise, of dismay. Jim and Dain Waris were the first to lay their\\nhands on the stakes. The popular story has it that Jim with a touch\\nof one finger had thrown down the gate. He was, of course, anxious\\nto disclaim this achievement. The whole stockade--he would insist on\\nexplaining to you--was a poor affair (Sherif Ali trusted mainly to the\\ninaccessible position); and, anyway, the thing\",\n \"seen the splinters fly,\\\" he\\ncried. By his side Dain Waris, listening with a quiet smile, dropped his\\neyelids and shuffled his feet a little. It appears that the success in\\nmounting the guns had given Jim's people such a feeling of confidence\\nthat he ventured to leave the battery under charge of two elderly Bugis\\nwho had seen some fighting in their day, and went to join Dain Waris and\\nthe storming party who were concealed in the ravine. In the small hours\\nthey began creeping up, and when two-thirds of\",\n \"on\\nexplaining to you--was a poor affair (Sherif Ali trusted mainly to the\\ninaccessible position); and, anyway, the thing had been already knocked\\nto pieces and only hung together by a miracle. He put his shoulder to it\\nlike a little fool and went in head over heels. Jove! If it hadn't been\\nfor Dain Waris, a pock-marked tattooed vagabond would have pinned him\\nwith his spear to a baulk of timber like one of Stein's beetles. The\\nthird man in, it seems\",\n \"The white men, deputing with the consent of\\nall the chiefs, were to be allowed to pass down the river. In answer to\\na question or two Tamb' Itam then reported the proceedings of the last\\ncouncil. Dain Waris listened attentively to the end, toying with the\\nring which ultimately he slipped on the forefinger of his right hand.\\nAfter hearing all he had to say he dismissed Tamb' Itam to have food\\nand rest. Orders for the return in the afternoon were given immediately.\\nAfterwards Dain Waris lay down again, open-\",\n \"And Dain Waris--their son--is the best\\nfriend (barring you) I ever had. What Mr. Stein would call a good\\n'war-comrade.' I was in luck. Jove! I was in luck when I tumbled amongst\\nthem at my last gasp.\\\" He meditated with bowed head, then rousing\\nhimself he added--'\\\"Of course I didn't go to sleep over it, but . . .\\\"\\nHe paused again. \\\"It seemed to come to me,\\\" he murmured. \\\"All at once I\\nsaw what I had to do\",\n \"he asked. He believed that it\\nwould be best to let these whites and their followers go with their\\nlives. It would be a small gift. \\\"I whom you have tried and found always\\ntrue ask you to let them go.\\\" He turned to Doramin. The old nakhoda made\\nno movement. \\\"Then,\\\" said Jim, \\\"call in Dain Waris, your son, my friend,\\nfor in this business I shall not lead.\\\"'\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER 43\\n\\n\\n'Tamb' Itam behind his chair was thunderstruck. The declaration produced\\n\",\n \"on his\\nbreast. The whispers of many men mingled with the slight rustling of the\\nleaves.\\n\\n'The Malay who had brought Tamb' Itam and the girl to Samarang was there\\ntoo. \\\"Not so angry as many,\\\" he said to me, but struck with a great\\nawe and wonder at the \\\"suddenness of men's fate, which hangs over their\\nheads like a cloud charged with thunder.\\\" He told me that when Dain\\nWaris's body was uncovered at a sign of Doramin's, he whom they\"\n ],\n [\n \"That man there seemed to be aware of his\\nhopeless difficulty. Jim looked at him, then turned away resolutely, as\\nafter a final parting.\\n\\nAnd later on, many times, in distant parts of the world, Marlow showed\\nhimself willing to remember Jim, to remember him at length, in detail\\nand audibly.\\n\\nPerhaps it would be after dinner, on a verandah draped in motionless\\nfoliage and crowned with flowers, in the deep dusk speckled by fiery\\ncigar-ends. The elongated bulk of each\",\n \"voice was very droll, pretty,\\nand childlike. It delighted Jim greatly. This was the last occasion on\\nwhich I heard them exchange this familiar hail, and it struck a chill\\ninto my heart. There was the high sweet voice, the pretty effort, the\\nswagger; but it all seemed to die out prematurely, and the playful call\\nsounded like a moan. It was too confoundedly awful. \\\"What have you done\\nwith Marlow?\\\" Jim was asking; and then, \\\"Gone down--has he? Funny I\\ndidn't meet him\",\n \"place surroundings of an Eastern roadstead, I saw his form\\npass by--appealing--significant--under a cloud--perfectly silent. Which\\nis as it should be. It was for me, with all the sympathy of which I was\\ncapable, to seek fit words for his meaning. He was 'one of us'.\\n\\nJ.C.\\n\\n1917.\\n\\n\\nLORD JIM\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER 1\\n\\n\\nHe was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he\\nadvanced straight at you with\",\n \"down after a rush through space. He leaned his\\nback against the balustrade and faced a disordered array of long cane\\nchairs. The bodies prone in them seemed startled out of their torpor by\\nhis movement. One or two sat up as if alarmed; here and there a cigar\\nglowed yet; Marlow looked at them all with the eyes of a man returning\\nfrom the excessive remoteness of a dream. A throat was cleared; a calm\\nvoice encouraged negligently, 'Well.'\\n\\n'Nothing,' said Marlow with a slight start. 'He had told\",\n \"you done\\nwith Marlow?\\\" Jim was asking; and then, \\\"Gone down--has he? Funny I\\ndidn't meet him. . . . You there, Marlow?\\\"\\n\\n'I didn't answer. I wasn't going in--not yet at any rate. I really\\ncouldn't. While he was calling me I was engaged in making my escape\\nthrough a little gate leading out upon a stretch of newly cleared\\nground. No; I couldn't face them yet. I walked hastily with lowered head\\nalong a trodden path. The ground\",\n \"his lamp, and solitary above the billowy roofs of the\\ntown, like a lighthouse-keeper above the sea, he turned to the pages of\\nthe story.\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER 38\\n\\n\\n'It all begins, as I've told you, with the man called Brown,' ran the\\nopening sentence of Marlow's narrative. 'You who have knocked about the\\nWestern Pacific must have heard of him. He was the show ruffian on the\\nAustralian coast--not that he was often to be seen there, but because\\nhe was always\",\n \"'t have been drunk--was he? Such a quiet, soft-spoken\\nchap too--blush like a girl when he came on board. . . .' I tell you,\\nCaptain Marlow, nobody had a chance against us with a strange ship when\\nJim was out. The other ship-chandlers just kept their old customers, and\\n. . .\\\"\\n\\n'Egstrom appeared overcome with emotion.\\n\\n'\\\"Why, sir--it seemed as though he wouldn't mind going a hundred miles\\nout to sea in an old shoe to nab a ship for the\",\n \"walking slowly alone. Brown remained standing on the log till\\nJim, appearing and disappearing between the patches of thorny scrub, had\\nnearly reached the creek; then Brown jumped off and went down to meet\\nhim on his side.\\n\\n'They met, I should think, not very far from the place, perhaps on the\\nvery spot, where Jim took the second desperate leap of his life--the\\nleap that landed him into the life of Patusan, into the trust, the love,\\nthe confidence of the people. They faced each other across the creek,\\nand with\",\n \"the tails of his coat blown hard against his legs.\\n\\n'I sat down again alone and discouraged--discouraged about Jim's case.\\nIf you wonder that after more than three years it had preserved its\\nactuality, you must know that I had seen him only very lately. I had\\ncome straight from Samarang, where I had loaded a cargo for Sydney: an\\nutterly uninteresting bit of business,--what Charley here would call one\\nof my rational transactions,--and in Samarang I had seen something\\nof Jim. He was then working for De\",\n \"seen. He called him Tuan\\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at\",\n \"though he had seen the\\nfailure of a potent charm in a supreme moment. The Bugis trader, a shy\\nhesitating man, was very clear in the little he had to say. Both were\\nevidently over-awed by a sense of deep inexpressible wonder, by the\\ntouch of an inscrutable mystery.'\\n\\nThere with Marlow's signature the letter proper ended. The privileged\\nreader screwed up his lamp, and solitary above the billowy roofs of the\\ntown, like a lighthouse-keeper above the sea, he turned to the\",\n \"dejectedly in the direction of the river. He was\\nnow leaving his new friends; he accepted the disappointing course of\\nevents with a sulky obstinacy which seemed to draw more together his\\nlittle yellow old face; and as he went down he glanced askant here and\\nthere, never giving up his fixed idea.\\n\\n'Henceforth events move fast without a check, flowing from the very\\nhearts of men like a stream from a dark source, and we see Jim amongst\\nthem, mostly through Tamb' Itam's eyes. The girl's eyes had watched him\",\n \"within the house, a faint exclamation, and a child-like but\\nenergetic little face with delicate features and a profound, attentive\\nglance peeped out of the inner gloom, like a bird out of the recess of a\\nnest. I was struck by the name, of course; but it was not till later\\non that I connected it with an astonishing rumour that had met me on my\\njourney, at a little place on the coast about 230 miles south of Patusan\\nRiver. Stein's schooner, in which\",\n \"first who withdraws his\\narm or turns his head is a dead man,\\\" he said. \\\"March!\\\" They stepped out\\ntogether, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing\\nwhite gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light.\\nErect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the\\nonly sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. \\\"Stop!\\\"\\ncried Jim.\\n\\n'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on\",\n \"why? Can't tell--unless it be to make time pass away\\nafter dinner. Charley, my dear chap, your dinner was extremely good, and\\nin consequence these men here look upon a quiet rubber as a tumultuous\\noccupation. They wallow in your good chairs and think to themselves,\\n\\\"Hang exertion. Let that Marlow talk.\\\"\\n\\n'Talk? So be it. And it's easy enough to talk of Master Jim, after a\\ngood spread, two hundred feet above the sea-level, with a box of decent\\ncigars handy,\",\n \"was Cornelius who hated him.\\n\\n'Yet after all this was a kind of recognition. You shall judge of a man\\nby his foes as well as by his friends, and this enemy of Jim was such as\\nno decent man would be ashamed to own, without, however, making too\\nmuch of him. This was the view Jim took, and in which I shared; but Jim\\ndisregarded him on general grounds. \\\"My dear Marlow,\\\" he said, \\\"I feel\\nthat if I go straight nothing can touch me. Indeed I do. Now you have\\nbeen\",\n \"age and crowned with flowers, in the deep dusk speckled by fiery\\ncigar-ends. The elongated bulk of each cane-chair harboured a silent\\nlistener. Now and then a small red glow would move abruptly, and\\nexpanding light up the fingers of a languid hand, part of a face in\\nprofound repose, or flash a crimson gleam into a pair of pensive eyes\\novershadowed by a fragment of an unruffled forehead; and with the very\\nfirst word uttered Marlow's body, extended\",\n \"He picked it up and, laying it\\naside, turned to Marlow's message, ran swiftly over the opening lines,\\nand, checking himself, thereafter read on deliberately, like one\\napproaching with slow feet and alert eyes the glimpse of an undiscovered\\ncountry.\\n\\n'. . . I don't suppose you've forgotten,' went on the letter. 'You alone\\nhave showed an interest in him that survived the telling of his story,\\nthough I remember well you would not admit he had mastered his fate.\\nYou prophesied for him the disaster of weariness and\",\n \"would naturally\\nfind his way to Stein's house. I returned his greeting and passed on. At\\nthe door of Stein's room I came upon another Malay in whom I recognised\\nTamb' Itam.\\n\\n'I asked him at once what he was doing there; it occurred to me that\\nJim might have come on a visit. I own I was pleased and excited at the\\nthought. Tamb' Itam looked as if he did not know what to say. \\\"Is Tuan\\nJim inside?\\\" I asked impatiently. \\\"No,\\\" he mumbled, hanging his\",\n \"ing in his own fashion upon\\nthe events of the last three years. Brown, who, apparently indifferent\\nand gazing away, listened with attention to every word, could not make\\nout clearly what sort of man this Jim could be. \\\"What's his name?\\nJim! Jim! That's not enough for a man's name.\\\" \\\"They call him,\\\" said\\nCornelius scornfully, \\\"Tuan Jim here. As you may say Lord Jim.\\\" \\\"What is\\nhe? Where does he come from?\\\" inquired Brown. \\\"What sort of man is he?\"\n ],\n [\n \"detected the soft spot, the place of decay, the\\ndetermination to lounge safely through existence.\\n\\nTo Jim that gossiping crowd, viewed as seamen, seemed at first more\\nunsubstantial than so many shadows. But at length he found a fascination\\nin the sight of those men, in their appearance of doing so well on\\nsuch a small allowance of danger and toil. In time, beside the original\\ndisdain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna\",\n \"it might have struck the officers of the\\nAvondale that there was \\\"something fishy\\\" in the affair; but of course\\nthey would keep their doubts to themselves. They had picked up the\\ncaptain, the mate, and two engineers of the steamer Patna sunk at sea,\\nand that, very properly, was enough for them. I did not ask Jim about\\nthe nature of his feelings during the ten days he spent on board. From\\nthe way he narrated that part I was at liberty to infer he was partly\\nstunned by the discovery he had made--the discovery about himself\",\n \"seemed possessed of some mysterious theory of defence.\\n\\n'So these two lascars stuck to the helm of that ship without\\nsteerage-way, where death would have found them if such had been their\\ndestiny. The whites did not give them half a glance, had probably\\nforgotten their existence. Assuredly Jim did not remember it. He\\nremembered he could do nothing; he could do nothing, now he was alone.\\nThere was nothing to do but to sink with the ship. No use making a\\ndisturbance about it. Was there? He waited upstanding\",\n \"able he thought himself cut off from them by a space that could\\nnot be traversed, by an obstacle that could not be overcome, by a chasm\\nwithout bottom. He was as far as he could get from them--the whole\\nbreadth of the ship.\\n\\n'His feet were glued to that remote spot and his eyes to their\\nindistinct group bowed together and swaying strangely in the common\\ntorment of fear. A hand-lamp lashed to a stanchion above a little table\\nrigged up on the bridge--the Patna had no chart-room\",\n \".\\nI pointed out to him that the skipper of the Patna was known to have\\nfeathered his nest pretty well, and could procure almost anywhere the\\nmeans of getting away. With Jim it was otherwise: the Government was\\nkeeping him in the Sailors' Home for the time being, and probably he\\nhadn't a penny in his pocket to bless himself with. It costs some money\\nto run away. \\\"Does it? Not always,\\\" he said, with a bitter laugh, and\\nto some further remark of mine--\\\"Well, then, let him creep twenty feet\",\n \"of the crew were sleeping on the number one hatch within reach of\\nmy arm,\\\" began Jim again.\\n\\n'You must know they kept Kalashee watch in that ship, all hands sleeping\\nthrough the night, and only the reliefs of quartermasters and look-out\\nmen being called. He was tempted to grip and shake the shoulder of the\\nnearest lascar, but he didn't. Something held his arms down along his\\nsides. He was not afraid--oh no! only he just couldn't--that's all. He\\nwas not afraid of death perhaps\",\n \"ain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna.\\n\\nThe Patna was a local steamer as old as the hills, lean like a\\ngreyhound, and eaten up with rust worse than a condemned water-tank. She\\nwas owned by a Chinaman, chartered by an Arab, and commanded by a sort\\nof renegade New South Wales German, very anxious to curse publicly\\nhis native country, but who, apparently on the strength of Bismarck's\",\n \", and, actually,\\nmustered enough pluck to run an errand to the engine-room. No trifle, it\\nmust be owned in fairness to him. Jim told me he darted desperate looks\\nlike a cornered man, gave one low wail, and dashed off. He was back\\ninstantly clambering, hammer in hand, and without a pause flung himself\\nat the bolt. The others gave up Jim at once and ran off to assist.\\nHe heard the tap, tap of the hammer, the sound of the released chock\\nfalling over. The boat\",\n \"A hand-lamp lashed to a stanchion above a little table\\nrigged up on the bridge--the Patna had no chart-room amidships--threw a\\nlight on their labouring shoulders, on their arched and bobbing backs.\\nThey pushed at the bow of the boat; they pushed out into the night; they\\npushed, and would no more look back at him. They had given him up as if\\nindeed he had been too far, too hopelessly separated from themselves, to\\nbe worth an appealing word, a glance, or a sign. They had no\",\n \", and\\nlittle by little it dawned upon Archie that this was a development of\\nthe Patna case. He says that as soon as he understood who it was before\\nhim he felt quite unwell--Archie is so sympathetic and easily upset--but\\npulled himself together and shouted \\\"Stop! I can't listen to you. You\\nmust go to the Master Attendant. I can't possibly listen to you. Captain\\nElliot is the man you want to see. This way, this way.\\\" He jumped\\nup, ran round that long counter, pulled, shoved:\",\n \", and declared it never came into his\\nmind then that the white men were about to leave the ship through\\nfear of death. He did not believe it now. There might have been secret\\nreasons. He wagged his old chin knowingly. Aha! secret reasons. He was\\na man of great experience, and he wanted _that_ white Tuan to know--he\\nturned towards Brierly, who didn't raise his head--that he had acquired\\na knowledge of many things by serving white men on the sea for a great\\nnumber of years--and, suddenly, with\",\n \"had heard shouts? No? Well, I did. Shouts for help . . . blown along\\nwith the drizzle. Imagination, I suppose. And yet I can hardly . . . How\\nstupid. . . . The others did not. I asked them afterwards. They all\\nsaid No. No? And I was hearing them even then! I might have known--but\\nI didn't think--I only listened. Very faint screams--day after day. Then\\nthat little half-caste chap here came up and spoke to me. 'The\\nPatna . .\",\n \"less it had for its object the killing of a donkeyman and the bringing\\nof worse than death upon Jim, appeared an utterly aimless piece of\\ndevilry. This view occurring to me took off my attention. For a time I\\nwas aware of the magistrate's voice as a sound merely; but in a moment\\nit shaped itself into distinct words . . . \\\"in utter disregard of their\\nplain duty,\\\" it said. The next sentence escaped me somehow, and\\nthen . . . \\\"abandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property\\nconfided to their charge\\\"\",\n \"he could not make out began to converse\\ndrowsily, and also, he could not tell where, he detected a curious\\nnoise of shuffling feet. Above these faint sounds there was that awful\\nstillness preceding a catastrophe, that trying silence of the moment\\nbefore the crash; then it came into his head that perhaps he would have\\ntime to rush along and cut all the lanyards of the gripes, so that the\\nboats would float as the ship went down.\\n\\n'The Patna had a long bridge, and all the boats were up there,\",\n \"batter your head for\\nyou from these boats.\\\"\\n\\n'He wrung his hands, ignored, at Jim's elbow. The skipper kept up a\\nnervous shuffle in one place and mumbled, \\\"Hammer! hammer! Mein Gott!\\nGet a hammer.\\\"\\n\\n'The little engineer whimpered like a child, but, broken arm and all,\\nhe turned out the least craven of the lot as it seems, and, actually,\\nmustered enough pluck to run an errand to the engine-room. No trifle, it\\nmust be owned\",\n \"suddenly the chief engineer rushed again at Jim.\\n\\n'\\\"Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw your only chance away? Come\\nand help, man! Man! Look there--look!\\\"\\n\\n'And at last Jim looked astern where the other pointed with maniacal\\ninsistence. He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already\\none-third of the sky. You know how these squalls come up there about\\nthat time of the year. First you see a darkening of the horizon--no\\nmore; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall. A straight\",\n \"\\nthemselves with fierce and secret exertions, and three looking on in\\ncomplete immobility, above the awnings covering the profound ignorance\\nof hundreds of human beings, with their weariness, with their dreams,\\nwith their hopes, arrested, held by an invisible hand on the brink of\\nannihilation. For that they were so, makes no doubt to me: given the\\nstate of the ship, this was the deadliest possible description of\\naccident that could happen. These beggars by the boat had every reason\\nto go distracted with funk. Frankly, had\",\n \", and\\nwith a raised hand checking the exclamation on my lips.\\n\\n'Then, while the half-caste, bursting with importance, shouted his\\norders, while the yards swung creaking and the heavy boom came surging\\nover, Jim and I, alone as it were, to leeward of the mainsail, clasped\\neach other's hands and exchanged the last hurried words. My heart was\\nfreed from that dull resentment which had existed side by side with\\ninterest in his fate. The absurd chatter of the half-caste had given\\nmore reality\",\n \"We shall have to fight.\\\" \\\"Fight! What\\nfor?\\\" he asked. \\\"For our lives.\\\" \\\"I have no life,\\\" he said. Tamb' Itam\\nheard a cry from the girl at the door. \\\"Who knows?\\\" said Tamb' Itam.\\n\\\"By audacity and cunning we may even escape. There is much fear in men's\\nhearts too.\\\" He went out, thinking vaguely of boats and of open sea,\\nleaving Jim and the girl together.\\n\\n'I haven't the heart to set down here such glimpses as she had\",\n \"and\\nImagination, the enemy of men, the father of all terrors, unstimulated,\\nsinks to rest in the dullness of exhausted emotion. Jim saw nothing\\nbut the disorder of his tossed cabin. He lay there battened down in the\\nmidst of a small devastation, and felt secretly glad he had not to go on\\ndeck. But now and again an uncontrollable rush of anguish would grip\\nhim bodily, make him gasp and writhe under the blankets, and then the\\nunintelligent brutality of an existence liable to\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\n'The defeated Sherif Ali fled the country without making another stand,\\nand when the miserable hunted villagers began to crawl out of the jungle\\nback to their rotting houses, it was Jim who, in consultation with Dain\\nWaris, appointed the headmen. Thus he became the virtual ruler of the\\nland. As to old Tunku Allang, his fears at first had known no bounds. It\\nis said that at the intelligence of the successful storming of the hill\\nhe flung himself, face down, on the bamboo floor of his audience-hall,\\n\",\n \"ued with him feebly. Some of the Bugis settlers, weary with\\nendless insecurity, were half inclined to call him in. The younger\\nspirits amongst them, chaffing, advised to \\\"get Sherif Ali with his wild\\nmen and drive the Rajah Allang out of the country.\\\" Doramin restrained\\nthem with difficulty. He was growing old, and, though his influence had\\nnot diminished, the situation was getting beyond him. This was the state\\nof affairs when Jim, bolting from the Rajah's stockade, appeared before\\nthe chief of\",\n \"where he\\nwould be most hated he was still trusted. Jim--as far as I could follow\\nthe conversation--was improving the occasion by the delivery of a\\nlecture. Some poor villagers had been waylaid and robbed while on their\\nway to Doramin's house with a few pieces of gum or beeswax which they\\nwished to exchange for rice. \\\"It was Doramin who was a thief,\\\" burst\\nout the Rajah. A shaking fury seemed to enter that old frail body.\\nHe writhed weirdly on his mat, gesticulating\",\n \"fights, of the sudden\\noutbreaks that would fill this or that part of the settlement with\\nsmoke, flame, the noise of shots and shrieks. Villages were burnt, men\\nwere dragged into the Rajah's stockade to be killed or tortured for the\\ncrime of trading with anybody else but himself. Only a day or two before\\nJim's arrival several heads of households in the very fishing village\\nthat was afterwards taken under his especial protection had been driven\\nover the cliffs by a party of the Rajah's spearmen, on suspicion of\\nh\",\n \"him\\nwith his spear to a baulk of timber like one of Stein's beetles. The\\nthird man in, it seems, had been Tamb' Itam, Jim's own servant. This was\\na Malay from the north, a stranger who had wandered into Patusan, and\\nhad been forcibly detained by Rajah Allang as paddler of one of the\\nstate boats. He had made a bolt of it at the first opportunity, and\\nfinding a precarious refuge (but very little to eat) amongst the Bugis\\nsett\",\n \"ombay, in Calcutta, in Rangoon, in Penang, in Batavia--and in each of\\nthese halting-places was just Jim the water-clerk. Afterwards, when his\\nkeen perception of the Intolerable drove him away for good from seaports\\nand white men, even into the virgin forest, the Malays of the jungle\\nvillage, where he had elected to conceal his deplorable faculty, added a\\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\\none might say\",\n \"strangers in their midst, some of whom, he said, were infidels and\\nothers even worse--children of Satan in the guise of Moslems. It was\\nreported that several of the Rajah's people amongst the listeners had\\nloudly expressed their approbation. The terror amongst the common people\\nwas intense. Jim, immensely pleased with his day's work, crossed the\\nriver again before sunset.\\n\\n'As he had got the Bugis irretrievably committed to action and had made\\nhimself responsible for success on his own head, he was\",\n \", I believe, on\\npurely religious grounds, had incited the tribes in the interior (the\\nbush-folk, as Jim himself called them) to rise, and had established\\nhimself in a fortified camp on the summit of one of the twin hills. He\\nhung over the town of Patusan like a hawk over a poultry-yard, but he\\ndevastated the open country. Whole villages, deserted, rotted on their\\nblackened posts over the banks of clear streams, dropping piecemeal into\\nthe water the grass of their walls, the leaves\",\n \"was getting beyond him. This was the state\\nof affairs when Jim, bolting from the Rajah's stockade, appeared before\\nthe chief of the Bugis, produced the ring, and was received, in a manner\\nof speaking, into the heart of the community.'\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER 26\\n\\n\\n'Doramin was one of the most remarkable men of his race I had ever seen.\\nHis bulk for a Malay was immense, but he did not look merely fat; he\\nlooked imposing, monumental. This motionless body, clad in rich stuffs\",\n \"\\npowder in Patusan.\\\" She caught him by the arm, and, pointing at the\\nhouse, \\\"Call him out,\\\" she whispered, trembling.\\n\\n'Tamb' Itam ran up the steps. His master was sleeping. \\\"It is I, Tamb'\\nItam,\\\" he cried at the door, \\\"with tidings that cannot wait.\\\" He saw\\nJim turn over on the pillow and open his eyes, and he burst out at\\nonce. \\\"This, Tuan, is a day of evil, an accursed day.\\\" His master raised\\nhimself on his elbow to\",\n \"up. \\\"Why do you stand here?\\\" he asked\\nvery red-faced. \\\"Waste no time.\\\" Tamb' Itam did not move. \\\"Forgive me,\\nTuan, but . . . but,\\\" he began to stammer. \\\"What?\\\" cried his master\\naloud, looking terrible, leaning forward with his hands gripping the\\nedge of the bed. \\\"It is not safe for thy servant to go out amongst the\\npeople,\\\" said Tamb' Itam, after hesitating a moment.\\n\\n'Then Jim understood. He had retreated from one world, for a small\\nm\",\n \"'Kassim disliked Doramin and his Bugis very much, but he hated the new\\norder of things still more. It had occurred to him that these whites,\\ntogether with the Rajah's followers, could attack and defeat the\\nBugis before Jim's return. Then, he reasoned, general defection of\\nthe townsfolk was sure to follow, and the reign of the white man who\\nprotected poor people would be over. Afterwards the new allies could be\\ndealt with. They would have no friends. The fellow was perfectly able to\\nperceive the difference\",\n \"one of the men as a Malay,\\napproaching in the dusk, perhaps might have been.\\n\\n'Cornelius didn't go away after delivering the paper. Brown was sitting\\nup over a tiny fire; all the others were lying down. \\\"I could tell you\\nsomething you would like to know,\\\" Cornelius mumbled crossly. Brown paid\\nno attention. \\\"You did not kill him,\\\" went on the other, \\\"and what do\\nyou get for it? You might have had money from the Rajah, besides the\\nloot of all the Bugis houses, and\",\n \"\\n'Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing; but to them, as to\\nmany of us, the blessing came heralded by terrors. So many generations\\nhad been released since the last white man had visited the river that\\nthe very tradition had been lost. The appearance of the being that\\ndescended upon them and demanded inflexibly to be taken up to Patusan\\nwas discomposing; his insistence was alarming; his generosity more than\\nsuspicious. It was an unheard-of request. There was no precedent. What\\nw\",\n \"only now and then uttering a word or two that would make the other\\njump and writhe with the sting. Jim told me these scenes were terrible.\\nIt was indeed a strange thing to come upon in a wilderness. The\\nendlessness of such a subtly cruel situation was appalling--if you think\\nof it. The respectable Cornelius (Inchi 'Nelyus the Malays called him,\\nwith a grimace that meant many things) was a much-disappointed man. I\\ndon't know what he had expected would be done for him in consideration\\nof\",\n \"man\\nwas sure of to-morrow, the edifice raised by Jim's hands, seemed on that\\nevening ready to collapse into a ruin reeking with blood. The poorer\\nfolk were already taking to the bush or flying up the river. A good many\\nof the upper class judged it necessary to go and pay their court to the\\nRajah. The Rajah's youths jostled them rudely. Old Tunku Allang, almost\\nout of his mind with fear and indecision, either kept a sullen silence\\nor abused them violently\",\n \"were burning, inland on the outskirts of the town where\\nsmall parties of men kept guard in the fields. Tuan Jim gave his orders\\nand was obeyed. Last of all they went to the Rajah's stockade, which a\\ndetachment of Jim's people manned on that night. The old Rajah had fled\\nearly in the morning with most of his women to a small house he had\\nnear a jungle village on a tributary stream. Kassim, left behind, had\\nattended the council with his air of diligent activity to explain away\\n\",\n \"As you may say Lord Jim.\\\" \\\"What is\\nhe? Where does he come from?\\\" inquired Brown. \\\"What sort of man is he?\\nIs he an Englishman?\\\" \\\"Yes, yes, he's an Englishman. I am an Englishman\\ntoo. From Malacca. He is a fool. All you have to do is to kill him and\\nthen you are king here. Everything belongs to him,\\\" explained Cornelius.\\n\\\"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\\\"\\ncommented Brown half aloud. \\\"No, no. The proper\",\n \"headman and his son-in-law. They landed\\nand walked up to us on the white sand, lean, dark-brown as if dried\\nin smoke, with ashy patches on the skin of their naked shoulders\\nand breasts. Their heads were bound in dirty but carefully folded\\nheadkerchiefs, and the old man began at once to state a complaint,\\nvoluble, stretching a lank arm, screwing up at Jim his old bleared eyes\\nconfidently. The Rajah's people would not leave them alone; there had\\nbeen some trouble about a lot of\",\n \"broke up he was heard outside accosting this and that deputing chief,\\nand speaking in a loud, gratified tone of the Rajah's property being\\nprotected in the Rajah's absence.\\n\\n'About ten or so Jim's men marched in. The stockade commanded the mouth\\nof the creek, and Jim meant to remain there till Brown had passed below.\\nA small fire was lit on the flat, grassy point outside the wall of\\nstakes, and Tamb' Itam placed a little folding-stool for his master. Jim\\ntold him to\"\n ],\n [\n \"In\\nfact, he was extremely proud of it.\\n\\n'It comes to me now that I had, on the whole, seen very little of her.\\nWhat I remember best is the even, olive pallor of her complexion, and\\nthe intense blue-black gleams of her hair, flowing abundantly from under\\na small crimson cap she wore far back on her shapely head. Her movements\\nwere free, assured, and she blushed a dusky red. While Jim and I were\\ntalking, she would come and go with rapid glances at us, leaving on her\",\n \"first who withdraws his\\narm or turns his head is a dead man,\\\" he said. \\\"March!\\\" They stepped out\\ntogether, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing\\nwhite gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light.\\nErect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the\\nonly sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. \\\"Stop!\\\"\\ncried Jim.\\n\\n'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on\",\n \"separate her fingers. Jim, bending\\nover her, looked earnestly upon her face, and all at once ran to the\\nlanding-stage. Tamb' Itam followed him, but turning his head, he saw\\nthat she had struggled up to her feet. She ran after them a few steps,\\nthen fell down heavily on her knees. \\\"Tuan! Tuan!\\\" called Tamb' Itam,\\n\\\"look back;\\\" but Jim was already in a canoe, standing up paddle in hand.\\nHe did not look back. Tamb' Itam had just time to scramble in after\\n\",\n \"ear, and evidently I had given him food for thought. Strangely enough,\\non the evening of that very day (which was my last in Patusan) I was\\nonce more confronted with the same question, with the unanswerable why\\nof Jim's fate. And this brings me to the story of his love.\\n\\n'I suppose you think it is a story that you can imagine for yourselves.\\nWe have heard so many such stories, and the majority of us don't believe\\nthem to be stories of love at all. For the most part we look upon them\",\n \"advancing with alacrity. He did not know what\\nhis master meant, but as soon as Jim made a movement the girl started\\ntoo and walked down into the open space. It seems that no one else of\\nthe people of the house was in sight. She tottered slightly, and about\\nhalf-way down called out to Jim, who had apparently resumed his peaceful\\ncontemplation of the river. He turned round, setting his back against\\nthe gun. \\\"Will you fight?\\\" she cried. \\\"There is nothing to fight for,\\\"\\nhe said; \\\"nothing is lost.\\\" Saying\",\n \"\\nThen I am sure she understood much--not everything--the fear mostly, it\\nseems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in the sense of a\\nprecious gem--jewel. Pretty, isn't it? But he was capable of anything.\\nHe was equal to his fortune, as he--after all--must have been equal to\\nhis misfortune. Jewel he called her; and he would say this as he might\\nhave said \\\"Jane,\\\" don't you know--with a marital, homelike, peaceful\\neffect. I heard the name\",\n \"from a dark source, and we see Jim amongst\\nthem, mostly through Tamb' Itam's eyes. The girl's eyes had watched him\\ntoo, but her life is too much entwined with his: there is her passion,\\nher wonder, her anger, and, above all, her fear and her unforgiving\\nlove. Of the faithful servant, uncomprehending as the rest of them, it\\nis the fidelity alone that comes into play; a fidelity and a belief in\\nhis lord so strong that even amazement is subdued to a sort\",\n \"firm glance and his ironic friendliness; the girl, absorbed in her\\nfrightened, suspicious adoration; Tamb' Itam, surly and faithful;\\nCornelius, leaning his forehead against the fence under the moonlight--I\\nam certain of them. They exist as if under an enchanter's wand. But the\\nfigure round which all these are grouped--that one lives, and I am not\\ncertain of him. No magician's wand can immobilise him under my eyes. He\\nis one of us.\\n\\n'Jim, as\",\n \"dejectedly in the direction of the river. He was\\nnow leaving his new friends; he accepted the disappointing course of\\nevents with a sulky obstinacy which seemed to draw more together his\\nlittle yellow old face; and as he went down he glanced askant here and\\nthere, never giving up his fixed idea.\\n\\n'Henceforth events move fast without a check, flowing from the very\\nhearts of men like a stream from a dark source, and we see Jim amongst\\nthem, mostly through Tamb' Itam's eyes. The girl's eyes had watched him\",\n \"blushed a dusky red. While Jim and I were\\ntalking, she would come and go with rapid glances at us, leaving on her\\npassage an impression of grace and charm and a distinct suggestion of\\nwatchfulness. Her manner presented a curious combination of shyness and\\naudacity. Every pretty smile was succeeded swiftly by a look of silent,\\nrepressed anxiety, as if put to flight by the recollection of some\\nabiding danger. At times she would sit down with us and, with her soft\\ncheek dimpled by the knuckles of her little hand,\",\n \"the instant, with one long shriek, all the women of the household\\nbegan to wail together; they mourned with shrill cries; the sun\\nwas setting, and in the intervals of screamed lamentations the high\\nsing-song voices of two old men intoning the Koran chanted alone.\\n\\n'About this time Jim, leaning on a gun-carriage, looked at the river,\\nand turned his back on the house; and the girl, in the doorway, panting\\nas if she had run herself to a standstill, was looking at him across\",\n \"till now alone\\nin a house that even in this steaming climate could be considered as too\\nbig for one man. I have had him to live with me for some time past. It\\nseems I haven't made a mistake.\\\" It seemed to me on reading this letter\\nthat my friend had found in his heart more than tolerance for Jim--that\\nthere were the beginnings of active liking. Of course he stated his\\ngrounds in a characteristic way. For one thing, Jim kept his freshness\\nin the climate. Had he been a girl--my friend wrote--one could have\\nsaid\",\n \"quickly, \\\"You were to be set\\nupon while you slept.\\\" Jim tells me he experienced a sense of deception.\\nIt was the old story. He was weary of these attempts upon his life. He\\nhad had his fill of these alarms. He was sick of them. He assured me he\\nwas angry with the girl for deceiving him. He had followed her under the\\nimpression that it was she who wanted his help, and now he had half\\na mind to turn on his heel and go back in disgust. \\\"Do you know,\\\" he\\ncommented profoundly, \\\"I\",\n \"must be young--he\\nsighed deeply--and insensible to the seductions of love. He shook his\\nhead sceptically. But such a woman seemed to be actually in existence.\\nHe had been told of a tall girl, whom the white man treated with great\\nrespect and care, and who never went forth from the house unattended.\\nPeople said the white man could be seen with her almost any day; they\\nwalked side by side, openly, he holding her arm under his--pressed to\\nhis side--thus--in a most extraordinary way. This might be a lie\",\n \", the barrier of forest, the\\nsolitude and the turmoil round these two lonely lives, and every word\\nspoken between them penetrated with sad meaning. There must have\\nbeen confidences, not so much of fact, I suppose, as of innermost\\nfeelings--regrets--fears--warnings, no doubt: warnings that the younger\\ndid not fully understand till the elder was dead--and Jim came along.\\nThen I am sure she understood much--not everything--the fear mostly, it\\nseems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in\",\n \"skippers to take it there) did\\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cornelius within an\\ninch of his life; on the other hand, the scenes were of so painful\\na character, so abominable, that his impulse would be to get out of\\nearshot, in order to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,\\nspeechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a stony,\\ndesperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and say\",\n \"abiding danger. At times she would sit down with us and, with her soft\\ncheek dimpled by the knuckles of her little hand, she would listen\\nto our talk; her big clear eyes would remain fastened on our lips, as\\nthough each pronounced word had a visible shape. Her mother had taught\\nher to read and write; she had learned a good bit of English from\\nJim, and she spoke it most amusingly, with his own clipping, boyish\\nintonation. Her tenderness hovered over him like a flutter of wings. She\\nlived so completely\",\n \"His--if I may say so--his caustic placidity,\\nand, at the same time, his intelligent sympathy with Jim's aspirations,\\nappealed to me. I seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If\\nJim took the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In fact, Jim\\nthe leader was a captive in every sense. The land, the people, the\\nfriendship, the love, were like the jealous guardians of his body.\\nEvery day added a link to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt\\nconvinced of\",\n \"long time ago; the neighbours' buffaloes\\nwould pace in the morning across the open space, snorting profoundly,\\nwithout haste; the very jungle was invading it already. Jim and the girl\\nstopped in the rank grass. The light in which they stood made a dense\\nblackness all round, and only above their heads there was an opulent\\nglitter of stars. He told me it was a beautiful night--quite cool, with\\na little stir of breeze from the river. It seems he noticed its friendly\\nbeauty. Remember this is a love story\",\n \"good wages and as much humouring\\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\\n\\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\\nwas\"\n ],\n [\n \"As you may say Lord Jim.\\\" \\\"What is\\nhe? Where does he come from?\\\" inquired Brown. \\\"What sort of man is he?\\nIs he an Englishman?\\\" \\\"Yes, yes, he's an Englishman. I am an Englishman\\ntoo. From Malacca. He is a fool. All you have to do is to kill him and\\nthen you are king here. Everything belongs to him,\\\" explained Cornelius.\\n\\\"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\\\"\\ncommented Brown half aloud. \\\"No, no. The proper\",\n \"the night. Doramin, struggling to\\nkeep his feet, made with his two supporters a swaying, tottering group;\\nhis little eyes stared with an expression of mad pain, of rage, with\\na ferocious glitter, which the bystanders noticed; and then, while Jim\\nstood stiffened and with bared head in the light of torches, looking him\\nstraight in the face, he clung heavily with his left arm round the neck\\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\\nfriend through the chest.\\n\\n'The crowd\",\n \"from his fist held off,\\na little above his head. A cloth wound tight round his loins seemed\\ndazzlingly white on his bronze skin; his naked body glistened as if wet.\\n\\n'Jim noted all this. He told me he was experiencing a feeling of\\nunutterable relief, of vengeful elation. He held his shot, he says,\\ndeliberately. He held it for the tenth part of a second, for three\\nstrides of the man--an unconscionable time. He held it for the pleasure\\nof saying to himself,\",\n \"white boat, lying high and\\ndry, showed him up; the creek was no more than seven yards wide in that\\nplace, and there happened to be a man crouching in the bush on the other\\nbank.\\n\\n'He was a Bugis of Tondano only lately come to Patusan, and a relation\\nof the man shot in the afternoon. That famous long shot had indeed\\nappalled the beholders. The man in utter security had been struck down,\\nin full view of his friends, dropping with a joke on his lips, and they\\nseemed to see in\",\n \"round the neck\\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\\nfriend through the chest.\\n\\n'The crowd, which had fallen apart behind Jim as soon as Doramin had\\nraised his hand, rushed tumultuously forward after the shot. They say\\nthat the white man sent right and left at all those faces a proud and\\nunflinching glance. Then with his hand over his lips he fell forward,\\ndead.\\n\\n'And that's the end. He passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart,\\nforgotten\",\n \"\\\"No!\\\" shouted Jim in\\na passion. \\\"I have not, and I don't intend to. I am going to live here,\\nin Patusan.\\\" \\\"You shall d-d-die h-h-here,\\\" answered Cornelius,\\nstill shaking violently, and in a sort of expiring voice. The whole\\nperformance was so absurd and provoking that Jim didn't know whether he\\nought to be amused or angry. \\\"Not till I have seen you tucked away,\\nyou bet,\\\" he called out, exasperated yet ready to laugh. Half seriously\\n\",\n \"place surroundings of an Eastern roadstead, I saw his form\\npass by--appealing--significant--under a cloud--perfectly silent. Which\\nis as it should be. It was for me, with all the sympathy of which I was\\ncapable, to seek fit words for his meaning. He was 'one of us'.\\n\\nJ.C.\\n\\n1917.\\n\\n\\nLORD JIM\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER 1\\n\\n\\nHe was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he\\nadvanced straight at you with\",\n \"My dear Marlow,\\\" he said, \\\"I feel\\nthat if I go straight nothing can touch me. Indeed I do. Now you have\\nbeen long enough here to have a good look round--and, frankly, don't\\nyou think I am pretty safe? It all depends upon me, and, by Jove! I have\\nlots of confidence in myself. The worst thing he could do would be to\\nkill me, I suppose. I don't think for a moment he would. He couldn't,\\nyou know--not if I were myself to hand him a loaded rifle for\",\n \"to command there\\nhimself. A distribution of powder, bullets, and percussion-caps was made\\nimmediately under the girl's supervision. Several messengers were to be\\ndispatched in different directions after Jim, whose exact whereabouts\\nwere unknown. These men started at dawn, but before that time Kassim had\\nmanaged to open communications with the besieged Brown.\\n\\n'That accomplished diplomatist and confidant of the Rajah, on leaving\\nthe fort to go back to his master, took into his boat Cornelius, whom he\\nfound slinking\",\n \", 'Give Tamb' Itam something to eat'\\\"--when\\nhis master put his feet to the ground and looked at him with such a\\ndiscomposed face that the words remained in his throat.\\n\\n'\\\"Speak out,\\\" said Jim. \\\"Is he dead?\\\" \\\"May you live long,\\\" cried Tamb'\\nItam. \\\"It was a most cruel treachery. He ran out at the first shots and\\nfell.\\\" . . . His master walked to the window and with his fist struck\\nat the shutter. The room was made light; and then in a steady voice, but\\n\",\n \"Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war--in a corner?\\nand the fellow had been killed cleanly, shot through the chest, not like\\nthat poor devil of his lying now in the creek. They had to listen to him\\ndying for six hours, with his entrails torn with slugs. At any rate this\\nwas a life for a life. . . . And all this was said with the weariness,\\nwith the recklessness of a man spurred on and\",\n \"view, cursing and yelling, \\\"Aim low! aim low!\\\"\\n\\n'Tamb' Itam says that, as for him, he understood at the first volley\\nwhat had happened. Though untouched he fell down and lay as if dead,\\nbut with his eyes open. At the sound of the first shots Dain Waris,\\nreclining on the couch, jumped up and ran out upon the open shore, just\\nin time to receive a bullet in his forehead at the second discharge.\\nTamb' Itam saw him fling his arms wide open before he fell.\",\n \"That man there seemed to be aware of his\\nhopeless difficulty. Jim looked at him, then turned away resolutely, as\\nafter a final parting.\\n\\nAnd later on, many times, in distant parts of the world, Marlow showed\\nhimself willing to remember Jim, to remember him at length, in detail\\nand audibly.\\n\\nPerhaps it would be after dinner, on a verandah draped in motionless\\nfoliage and crowned with flowers, in the deep dusk speckled by fiery\\ncigar-ends. The elongated bulk of each\",\n \"seen. He called him Tuan\\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at\",\n \"ieftain,\\\" said Jim, \\\"with his\\nlittle fierce eyes--a pair of immense flintlock pistols on his knees.\\nMagnificent things, ebony, silver-mounted, with beautiful locks and\\na calibre like an old blunderbuss. A present from Stein, it seems--in\\nexchange for that ring, you know. Used to belong to good old McNeil. God\\nonly knows how _he_ came by them. There he sat, moving neither hand nor\\nfoot, a flame of dry brushwood behind him, and lots of people rushing\\n\",\n \",\\nto the very disastrous last, she showed an extraordinary martial ardour.\\nIt was to her that Dain Waris had gone at once at the first intelligence\\nof danger, for you must know that Jim was the only one in Patusan who\\npossessed a store of gunpowder. Stein, with whom he had kept up intimate\\nrelations by letters, had obtained from the Dutch Government a special\\nauthorisation to export five hundred kegs of it to Patusan. The\\npowder-magazine was a small hut of rough logs covered entirely with\\nearth,\",\n \"shall see what a fool he is.\\\" Brown was incredulous. \\\"You\\nshall see; you shall see,\\\" repeated Cornelius. \\\"He is not afraid--not\\nafraid of anything. He will come and order you to leave his people\\nalone. Everybody must leave his people alone. He is like a little child.\\nHe will come to you straight.\\\" Alas! he knew Jim well--that \\\"mean little\\nskunk,\\\" as Brown called him to me. \\\"Yes, certainly,\\\" he pursued with\\nardour, \\\"and then, captain, you tell that tall man with a gun to\",\n \"\\n\\n'The explosion in that confined space was stunning. He stepped back a\\npace. He saw the man jerk his head up, fling his arms forward, and drop\\nthe kriss. He ascertained afterwards that he had shot him through the\\nmouth, a little upwards, the bullet coming out high at the back of the\\nskull. With the impetus of his rush the man drove straight on, his face\\nsuddenly gaping disfigured, with his hands open before him gropingly, as\\nthough blinded, and landed with terrific violence on his forehead,\",\n \"\\nbother about stray arrows. Upon my word, he was too unsuspecting; he was\\nnot fair game. I was glad that my missile had been thrown away,--that he\\nhad not even heard the twang of the bow.\\n\\n'Of course he could not know at the time the man was dead. The next\\nminute--his last on board--was crowded with a tumult of events and\\nsensations which beat about him like the sea upon a rock. I use the\\nsimile advisedly, because from his relation I am forced to believe\\nhe had preserved\",\n \"ing in his own fashion upon\\nthe events of the last three years. Brown, who, apparently indifferent\\nand gazing away, listened with attention to every word, could not make\\nout clearly what sort of man this Jim could be. \\\"What's his name?\\nJim! Jim! That's not enough for a man's name.\\\" \\\"They call him,\\\" said\\nCornelius scornfully, \\\"Tuan Jim here. As you may say Lord Jim.\\\" \\\"What is\\nhe? Where does he come from?\\\" inquired Brown. \\\"What sort of man is he?\"\n ],\n [\n \"good wages and as much humouring\\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\\n\\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\\nwas\",\n \"detected the soft spot, the place of decay, the\\ndetermination to lounge safely through existence.\\n\\nTo Jim that gossiping crowd, viewed as seamen, seemed at first more\\nunsubstantial than so many shadows. But at length he found a fascination\\nin the sight of those men, in their appearance of doing so well on\\nsuch a small allowance of danger and toil. In time, beside the original\\ndisdain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna\",\n \"suddenly the chief engineer rushed again at Jim.\\n\\n'\\\"Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw your only chance away? Come\\nand help, man! Man! Look there--look!\\\"\\n\\n'And at last Jim looked astern where the other pointed with maniacal\\ninsistence. He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already\\none-third of the sky. You know how these squalls come up there about\\nthat time of the year. First you see a darkening of the horizon--no\\nmore; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall. A straight\",\n \"the midst of\\ngrass-plots, flower-beds, and fir-trees, with an orchard at the back,\\na paved stable-yard to the left, and the sloping glass of greenhouses\\ntacked along a wall of bricks. The living had belonged to the family for\\ngenerations; but Jim was one of five sons, and when after a course of\\nlight holiday literature his vocation for the sea had declared itself,\\nhe was sent at once to a 'training-ship for officers of the mercantile\\nmarine.'\\n\\nHe learned there\",\n \"Seas were getting too hot to hold gentlemen of his\\nkidney. Clearly he must have shifted the scene of his operations farther\\nwest, because a year later he plays an incredibly audacious, but not a\\nvery profitable part, in a serio-comic business in Manila Bay, in which\\na peculating governor and an absconding treasurer are the principal\\nfigures; thereafter he seems to have hung around the Philippines in his\\nrotten schooner battling with un adverse fortune, till at last, running\\nhis appointed course, he sails into Jim's\",\n \"\\\"Oh! you--you--\\\" I began, and had to cast about for a suitable\\nword, but before I became aware that there was no name that would just\\ndo, he was gone. I heard outside Egstrom's deep gentle voice saying\\ncheerily, \\\"That's the Sarah W. Granger, Jimmy. You must manage to be\\nfirst aboard\\\"; and directly Blake struck in, screaming after the manner\\nof an outraged cockatoo, \\\"Tell the captain we've got some of his mail\\nhere. That'll fetch him. D'ye hear, M\",\n \". \\\"Blake's a little cad, but Egstrom's\\nall right.\\\" He stood up quickly, and walking with measured steps to a\\ntripod telescope standing in the window and pointed at the roadstead,\\nhe applied his eye to it. \\\"There's that ship which has been becalmed\\noutside all the morning has got a breeze now and is coming in,\\\" he\\nremarked patiently; \\\"I must go and board.\\\" We shook hands in silence,\\nand he turned to go. \\\"Jim!\\\" I cried. He looked round with his hand on\\nthe\",\n \"ide business and to the captains of ships\\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\\nwas anxious that it should not be pronounced. His incognito, which had\\nas many holes as a sieve, was not meant to hide a personality but a\\nfact. When the fact broke through the incognito he would leave\\nsuddenly the seaport where he happened to be at the time and go to\\nanother--generally farther east. He kept to seaports because he was a\\nseaman in exile from the sea,\",\n \"ain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna.\\n\\nThe Patna was a local steamer as old as the hills, lean like a\\ngreyhound, and eaten up with rust worse than a condemned water-tank. She\\nwas owned by a Chinaman, chartered by an Arab, and commanded by a sort\\nof renegade New South Wales German, very anxious to curse publicly\\nhis native country, but who, apparently on the strength of Bismarck's\",\n \", if you wanted ever so much. We've\\ngot a steamer.\\\" \\\"You've got the ghost of a steamer,\\\" I said. \\\"Good\\nenough for a start--there's no superior nonsense about us. Is there,\\nCaptain Robinson?\\\" \\\"No! no! no!\\\" croaked the old man without lifting\\nhis eyes, and the senile tremble of his head became almost fierce with\\ndetermination. \\\"I understand you know that young chap,\\\" said Chester,\\nwith a nod at the street from which Jim had disappeared long ago. \\\"He's\\nbe\",\n \"an instant after the\\npassage of the ship, subsided splashing gently, calmed down at last\\ninto the circular stillness of water and sky with the black speck of the\\nmoving hull remaining everlastingly in its centre.\\n\\nJim on the bridge was penetrated by the great certitude of unbounded\\nsafety and peace that could be read on the silent aspect of nature like\\nthe certitude of fostering love upon the placid tenderness of a mother's\\nface. Below the roof of awnings, surrendered to the wisdom of white men\\n\",\n \"ating enthusiastically with a Parsee firm for an\\nold, brig-rigged, sea-anachronism of ninety horse-power. We had met and\\nspoken together several times. He looked knowingly after Jim. \\\"Takes\\nit to heart?\\\" he asked scornfully. \\\"Very much,\\\" I said. \\\"Then he's no\\ngood,\\\" he opined. \\\"What's all the to-do about? A bit of ass's skin. That\\nnever yet made a man. You must see things exactly as they are--if you\\ndon't, you may\",\n \"er of the Patna had turned up in a more or less destitute state,\\nand got a temporary job of looking after the machinery of the mill. \\\"I\\ncouldn't stand the familiarity of the little beast,\\\" Jim wrote from a\\nseaport seven hundred miles south of the place where he should have been\\nin clover. \\\"I am now for the time with Egstrom & Blake, ship-chandlers,\\nas their--well--runner, to call the thing by its right name. For\\nreference I gave them your name, which they know of course, and if you\",\n \"like a naked ship's\\nspar floating in the pool of a sheltered dock. 'How steady she goes,'\\nthought Jim with wonder, with something like gratitude for this high\\npeace of sea and sky. At such times his thoughts would be full of\\nvalorous deeds: he loved these dreams and the success of his imaginary\\nachievements. They were the best parts of life, its secret truth, its\\nhidden reality. They had a gorgeous virility, the charm of vagueness,\\nthey passed before him with an heroic tread; they carried his soul away\\nwith them\",\n \"his\\nrotten schooner battling with un adverse fortune, till at last, running\\nhis appointed course, he sails into Jim's history, a blind accomplice of\\nthe Dark Powers.\\n\\n'His tale goes that when a Spanish patrol cutter captured him he was\\nsimply trying to run a few guns for the insurgents. If so, then I can't\\nunderstand what he was doing off the south coast of Mindanao. My belief,\\nhowever, is that he was blackmailing the native villages along the\\ncoast. The principal thing is\",\n \", and\\nwith a raised hand checking the exclamation on my lips.\\n\\n'Then, while the half-caste, bursting with importance, shouted his\\norders, while the yards swung creaking and the heavy boom came surging\\nover, Jim and I, alone as it were, to leeward of the mainsail, clasped\\neach other's hands and exchanged the last hurried words. My heart was\\nfreed from that dull resentment which had existed side by side with\\ninterest in his fate. The absurd chatter of the half-caste had given\\nmore reality\",\n \"went on the old chap, in great perturbation, and squashing something\\nin the corner of his eye with the end of a thumb as broad as a spatula.\\n\\\"You would think, sir, he had jumped overboard only to give an unlucky\\nman a last show to get on. What with the shock of him going in this\\nawful rash way, and thinking myself a made man by that chance, I was\\nnearly off my chump for a week. But no fear. The captain of the Pelion\\nwas shifted into the Ossa--came aboard in Shanghai\",\n \"shovel, the violent slam of a\\nfurnace-door, exploded brutally, as if the men handling the mysterious\\nthings below had their breasts full of fierce anger: while the slim high\\nhull of the steamer went on evenly ahead, without a sway of her bare\\nmasts, cleaving continuously the great calm of the waters under the\\ninaccessible serenity of the sky.\\n\\nJim paced athwart, and his footsteps in the vast silence were loud to\\nhis own ears, as if echoed by the watchful stars: his eyes,\",\n \"in my ship, and we had a longish\\npassage. It was pitiful to see how he shrank within himself. A seaman,\\neven if a mere passenger, takes an interest in a ship, and looks at\\nthe sea-life around him with the critical enjoyment of a painter,\\nfor instance, looking at another man's work. In every sense of the\\nexpression he is \\\"on deck\\\"; but my Jim, for the most part, skulked down\\nbelow as though he had been a stowaway. He infected me so that I avoided\\nspeaking on professional matters\",\n \"aged cockatoo, \\\"Tell the captain we've got some of his mail\\nhere. That'll fetch him. D'ye hear, Mister What's-your-name?\\\" And there\\nwas Jim answering Egstrom with something boyish in his tone. \\\"All right.\\nI'll make a race of it.\\\" He seemed to take refuge in the boat-sailing\\npart of that sorry business.\\n\\n'I did not see him again that trip, but on my next (I had a six months'\\ncharter) I went up to the store. Ten yards away from\"\n ],\n [\n \". The cutter\\ncould be seen in the falling darkness under the spell of tide and wind,\\nthat for a moment held her bound, and tossing abreast of the ship.\\nA yelling voice in her reached him faintly: 'Keep stroke, you young\\nwhelps, if you want to save anybody! Keep stroke!' And suddenly she\\nlifted high her bow, and, leaping with raised oars over a wave, broke\\nthe spell cast upon her by the wind and tide.\\n\\nJim felt his shoulder gripped firmly. 'Too late, youngster.' The captain\\n\",\n \"batter your head for\\nyou from these boats.\\\"\\n\\n'He wrung his hands, ignored, at Jim's elbow. The skipper kept up a\\nnervous shuffle in one place and mumbled, \\\"Hammer! hammer! Mein Gott!\\nGet a hammer.\\\"\\n\\n'The little engineer whimpered like a child, but, broken arm and all,\\nhe turned out the least craven of the lot as it seems, and, actually,\\nmustered enough pluck to run an errand to the engine-room. No trifle, it\\nmust be owned\",\n \"At it they\\nwent, as if trying to drive me overboard with the noise! . . . 'I wonder\\nyou had pluck enough to jump. You ain't wanted here. If I had known who\\nit was, I would have tipped you over--you skunk! What have you done with\\nthe other? Where did you get the pluck to jump--you coward? What's to\\nprevent us three from firing you overboard?' . . . They were out of\\nbreath; the shower passed away upon the sea. Then nothing. There was\\nnothing round the\",\n \"er, he reported, bound south with a cargo of Java sugar, had\\nsprung a bad leak and sank under his feet. He and his companions were\\nthe survivors of a crew of six. The two died on board the steamer which\\nrescued them. Brown lived to be seen by me, and I can testify that he\\nhad played his part to the last.\\n\\n'It seems, however, that in going away they had neglected to cast off\\nCornelius's canoe. Cornelius himself Brown had let go at the beginning\\nof the shooting, with a kick for\",\n \"suddenly the chief engineer rushed again at Jim.\\n\\n'\\\"Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw your only chance away? Come\\nand help, man! Man! Look there--look!\\\"\\n\\n'And at last Jim looked astern where the other pointed with maniacal\\ninsistence. He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already\\none-third of the sky. You know how these squalls come up there about\\nthat time of the year. First you see a darkening of the horizon--no\\nmore; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall. A straight\",\n \"the spell cast upon her by the wind and tide.\\n\\nJim felt his shoulder gripped firmly. 'Too late, youngster.' The captain\\nof the ship laid a restraining hand on that boy, who seemed on the\\npoint of leaping overboard, and Jim looked up with the pain of conscious\\ndefeat in his eyes. The captain smiled sympathetically. 'Better luck\\nnext time. This will teach you to be smart.'\\n\\nA shrill cheer greeted the cutter. She came dancing back half full of\\nwater, and with two exhausted men washing about on her bottom\",\n \"separate her fingers. Jim, bending\\nover her, looked earnestly upon her face, and all at once ran to the\\nlanding-stage. Tamb' Itam followed him, but turning his head, he saw\\nthat she had struggled up to her feet. She ran after them a few steps,\\nthen fell down heavily on her knees. \\\"Tuan! Tuan!\\\" called Tamb' Itam,\\n\\\"look back;\\\" but Jim was already in a canoe, standing up paddle in hand.\\nHe did not look back. Tamb' Itam had just time to scramble in after\\n\",\n \", and, actually,\\nmustered enough pluck to run an errand to the engine-room. No trifle, it\\nmust be owned in fairness to him. Jim told me he darted desperate looks\\nlike a cornered man, gave one low wail, and dashed off. He was back\\ninstantly clambering, hammer in hand, and without a pause flung himself\\nat the bolt. The others gave up Jim at once and ran off to assist.\\nHe heard the tap, tap of the hammer, the sound of the released chock\\nfalling over. The boat\",\n \"which he began again. He wanted it over. He was severely left\\nalone, and he formulated in his head this address to the ship in a\\ntone of imprecation, while at the same time he enjoyed the privilege of\\nwitnessing scenes--as far as I can judge--of low comedy. They were still\\nat that bolt. The skipper was ordering, \\\"Get under and try to lift\\\"; and\\nthe others naturally shirked. You understand that to be squeezed flat\\nunder the keel of a boat wasn't a desirable position to be caught in if\\nthe ship went\",\n \"it might have struck the officers of the\\nAvondale that there was \\\"something fishy\\\" in the affair; but of course\\nthey would keep their doubts to themselves. They had picked up the\\ncaptain, the mate, and two engineers of the steamer Patna sunk at sea,\\nand that, very properly, was enough for them. I did not ask Jim about\\nthe nature of his feelings during the ten days he spent on board. From\\nthe way he narrated that part I was at liberty to infer he was partly\\nstunned by the discovery he had made--the discovery about himself\",\n \"There was not a glimmer--not a glimmer,\\\"\\nhe protested mournfully. \\\"Don't you understand that if there had been,\\nyou would not have seen me here? You see me--and you doubt.\\\"\\n\\n'I shook my head negatively. This question of the lights being lost\\nsight of when the boat could not have been more than a quarter of a mile\\nfrom the ship was a matter for much discussion. Jim stuck to it that\\nthere was nothing to be seen after the first shower had cleared away;\\nand the others had affirmed the same thing to the officers\",\n \"him in a boat-cloak and took him off as quick as they could,\\nwith a dark night coming on, the weather threatening, and the ship\\nfiring recall guns every five minutes. Three weeks afterwards he was as\\nwell as ever. He didn't allow any fuss that was made on shore to upset\\nhim; he just shut his lips tight, and let people screech. It was bad\\nenough to have lost his ship, and all he was worth besides, without\\npaying attention to the hard names they called him. That's the man for\\nme.\\\" He lifted\",\n \"exactly\\nat the same distance astern of the ship, caught up with her at noon,\\npouring the concentrated fire of his rays on the pious purposes of the\\nmen, glided past on his descent, and sank mysteriously into the sea\\nevening after evening, preserving the same distance ahead of her\\nadvancing bows. The five whites on board lived amidships, isolated from\\nthe human cargo. The awnings covered the deck with a white roof from\\nstem to stern, and a faint hum, a low murmur of sad voices, alone\\nrevealed the presence\",\n \"an instant after the\\npassage of the ship, subsided splashing gently, calmed down at last\\ninto the circular stillness of water and sky with the black speck of the\\nmoving hull remaining everlastingly in its centre.\\n\\nJim on the bridge was penetrated by the great certitude of unbounded\\nsafety and peace that could be read on the silent aspect of nature like\\nthe certitude of fostering love upon the placid tenderness of a mother's\\nface. Below the roof of awnings, surrendered to the wisdom of white men\\n\",\n \"'t! Only I am one of them fearless fellows . . .'\\n\\nHe let go the rail and made ample gestures as if demonstrating in\\nthe air the shape and extent of his valour; his thin voice darted in\\nprolonged squeaks upon the sea, he tiptoed back and forth for the better\\nemphasis of utterance, and suddenly pitched down head-first as though he\\nhad been clubbed from behind. He said 'Damn!' as he tumbled; an instant\\nof silence followed upon his screeching: Jim and the skip\",\n \", and\\nwith a raised hand checking the exclamation on my lips.\\n\\n'Then, while the half-caste, bursting with importance, shouted his\\norders, while the yards swung creaking and the heavy boom came surging\\nover, Jim and I, alone as it were, to leeward of the mainsail, clasped\\neach other's hands and exchanged the last hurried words. My heart was\\nfreed from that dull resentment which had existed side by side with\\ninterest in his fate. The absurd chatter of the half-caste had given\\nmore reality\",\n \"good wages and as much humouring\\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\\n\\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\\nwas\",\n \"have\\nsimply howled like an animal. I was asking myself when I would wake up.\\nThey urged me aloud to come aft and hear quietly what the skipper had to\\nsay. We were sure to be picked up before the evening--right in the track\\nof all the Canal traffic; there was smoke to the north-west now.\\n\\n'\\\"It gave me an awful shock to see this faint, faint blur, this low\\ntrail of brown mist through which you could see the boundary of sea and\\nsky. I called out to them that I could hear very well where I was. The\",\n \"We shall have to fight.\\\" \\\"Fight! What\\nfor?\\\" he asked. \\\"For our lives.\\\" \\\"I have no life,\\\" he said. Tamb' Itam\\nheard a cry from the girl at the door. \\\"Who knows?\\\" said Tamb' Itam.\\n\\\"By audacity and cunning we may even escape. There is much fear in men's\\nhearts too.\\\" He went out, thinking vaguely of boats and of open sea,\\nleaving Jim and the girl together.\\n\\n'I haven't the heart to set down here such glimpses as she had\",\n \"seemed possessed of some mysterious theory of defence.\\n\\n'So these two lascars stuck to the helm of that ship without\\nsteerage-way, where death would have found them if such had been their\\ndestiny. The whites did not give them half a glance, had probably\\nforgotten their existence. Assuredly Jim did not remember it. He\\nremembered he could do nothing; he could do nothing, now he was alone.\\nThere was nothing to do but to sink with the ship. No use making a\\ndisturbance about it. Was there? He waited upstanding\"\n ],\n [\n \"along the walls the\\ncourt peons, buttoned tight in long white coats, flitted rapidly to and\\nfro, running on bare toes, red-sashed, red turban on head, as noiseless\\nas ghosts, and on the alert like so many retrievers.\\n\\nJim's eyes, wandering in the intervals of his answers, rested upon a\\nwhite man who sat apart from the others, with his face worn and clouded,\\nbut with quiet eyes that glanced straight, interested and clear. Jim\\nanswered another question and was tempted to cry out\",\n \"took as a tribute to the evident sincerity of my\\nmanner and of my tone. We faced each other. In the court the assault\\ncase was proceeding. I caught the words: \\\"Well--buffalo--stick--in the\\ngreatness of my fear. . . .\\\"\\n\\n'\\\"What did you mean by staring at me all the morning?\\\" said Jim at last.\\nHe looked up and looked down again. \\\"Did you expect us all to sit with\\ndowncast eyes out of regard for your susceptibilities?\\\" I retorted\\nsharply. I was not going to submit me\",\n \"day. The\\nwhite men began to troop out at once. Jim had been told to stand down\\nsome time before, and was able to leave amongst the first. I saw his\\nbroad shoulders and his head outlined in the light of the door, and\\nwhile I made my way slowly out talking with some one--some stranger who\\nhad addressed me casually--I could see him from within the court-room\\nresting both elbows on the balustrade of the verandah and turning his\\nback on the small stream of people trickling down the few steps. There\\nwas a murmur of\",\n \"became aware I was\\nbeing held up, so to speak, as if in a wood. The verandah was empty by\\nthen, the noise and movement in court had ceased: a great silence fell\\nupon the building, in which, somewhere far within, an oriental voice\\nbegan to whine abjectly. The dog, in the very act of trying to sneak in\\nat the door, sat down hurriedly to hunt for fleas.\\n\\n'\\\"Did you speak to me?\\\" asked Jim very low, and bending forward, not so\\nmuch towards me but at me\",\n \"A month or so afterwards, when Jim, in answer to pointed questions,\\ntried to tell honestly the truth of this experience, he said, speaking\\nof the ship: 'She went over whatever it was as easy as a snake crawling\\nover a stick.' The illustration was good: the questions were aiming at\\nfacts, and the official Inquiry was being held in the police court of an\\nEastern port. He stood elevated in the witness-box, with burning cheeks\\nin a cool lofty room: the big framework of punkahs moved gently to and\\nfro high above his\",\n \"ages. They stopped him at last. A silence fell upon\\nthe court,--a silence that remained unbroken for at least a minute, and\\npassed gently into a deep murmur. This episode was the sensation of\\nthe second day's proceedings--affecting all the audience, affecting\\neverybody except Jim, who was sitting moodily at the end of the first\\nbench, and never looked up at this extraordinary and damning witness\\nthat seemed possessed of some mysterious theory of defence.\\n\\n'So these two lascars stuck to the helm of that ship without\\nsteerage-\",\n \"\\nstood still, and when Jim passed me on his way to the gate, I caught at\\nhis arm and detained him. The look he gave discomposed me, as though I\\nhad been responsible for his state he looked at me as if I had been the\\nembodied evil of life. \\\"It's all over,\\\" I stammered. \\\"Yes,\\\" he said\\nthickly. \\\"And now let no man . . .\\\" He jerked his arm out of my grasp. I\\nwatched his back as he went away. It was a long street, and he remained\\nin sight\",\n \"imagined he was hopeless.\\nThen it was that our glances met. They met, and the look he gave me was\\ndiscouraging of any intention I might have had to speak to him. Upon\\neither hypothesis--insolence or despair--I felt I could be of no use to\\nhim. This was the second day of the proceedings. Very soon after that\\nexchange of glances the inquiry was adjourned again to the next day. The\\nwhite men began to troop out at once. Jim had been told to stand down\\nsome time before, and was able to leave amongst\",\n \"interruptions, the deliberations\\nupon Jim's fate went on night and day.\\n\\n'Meanwhile he wandered about the courtyard, shunned by some, glared at\\nby others, but watched by all, and practically at the mercy of the first\\ncasual ragamuffin with a chopper, in there. He took possession of a\\nsmall tumble-down shed to sleep in; the effluvia of filth and rotten\\nmatter incommoded him greatly: it seems he had not lost his appetite\\nthough, because--he told me--\",\n \"less it had for its object the killing of a donkeyman and the bringing\\nof worse than death upon Jim, appeared an utterly aimless piece of\\ndevilry. This view occurring to me took off my attention. For a time I\\nwas aware of the magistrate's voice as a sound merely; but in a moment\\nit shaped itself into distinct words . . . \\\"in utter disregard of their\\nplain duty,\\\" it said. The next sentence escaped me somehow, and\\nthen . . . \\\"abandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property\\nconfided to their charge\\\"\",\n \", one\\ndidn't care who else went--three, thirty, three hundred people\\\"--it was\\nas if a demon had been whispering advice in his ear. \\\"I made him wince,\\\"\\nboasted Brown to me. \\\"He very soon left off coming the righteous over\\nme. He just stood there with nothing to say, and looking as black as\\nthunder--not at me--on the ground.\\\" He asked Jim whether he had nothing\\nfishy in his life to remember that he was so damnedly hard upon a man\\ntrying to get out of a deadly hole by the\",\n \"his voice a little, said with a slow laugh, \\\"Look at that\\nwretched cur,\\\" and directly afterwards we became separated by a lot of\\npeople pushing in. I stood back for a moment against the wall while the\\nstranger managed to get down the steps and disappeared. I saw Jim spin\\nround. He made a step forward and barred my way. We were alone; he\\nglared at me with an air of stubborn resolution. I became aware I was\\nbeing held up, so to speak, as if in a wood. The verandah was empty by\\nthen, the noise and\",\n \"\\nthe force of the blow?' asked the assessor sitting to the left. He had\\na thin horseshoe beard, salient cheek-bones, and with both elbows on\\nthe desk clasped his rugged hands before his face, looking at Jim with\\nthoughtful blue eyes; the other, a heavy, scornful man, thrown back in\\nhis seat, his left arm extended full length, drummed delicately with his\\nfinger-tips on a blotting-pad: in the middle the magistrate upright in\\nthe roomy arm-chair, his\",\n \"Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war--in a corner?\\nand the fellow had been killed cleanly, shot through the chest, not like\\nthat poor devil of his lying now in the creek. They had to listen to him\\ndying for six hours, with his entrails torn with slugs. At any rate this\\nwas a life for a life. . . . And all this was said with the weariness,\\nwith the recklessness of a man spurred on and\",\n \"good wages and as much humouring\\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\\n\\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\\nwas\",\n \"had nothing\\nfishy in his life to remember that he was so damnedly hard upon a man\\ntrying to get out of a deadly hole by the first means that came to\\nhand--and so on, and so on. And there ran through the rough talk a\\nvein of subtle reference to their common blood, an assumption of common\\nexperience; a sickening suggestion of common guilt, of secret knowledge\\nthat was like a bond of their minds and of their hearts.\\n\\n'At last Brown threw himself down full length and watched Jim out of\\nthe corners of his eyes. Jim on his side of\",\n \"broke up he was heard outside accosting this and that deputing chief,\\nand speaking in a loud, gratified tone of the Rajah's property being\\nprotected in the Rajah's absence.\\n\\n'About ten or so Jim's men marched in. The stockade commanded the mouth\\nof the creek, and Jim meant to remain there till Brown had passed below.\\nA small fire was lit on the flat, grassy point outside the wall of\\nstakes, and Tamb' Itam placed a little folding-stool for his master. Jim\\ntold him to\",\n \"closed, the right staring stupid and glassy, he hung\\nhis big head over the chart and scratched his ribs sleepily. There was\\nsomething obscene in the sight of his naked flesh. His bared breast\\nglistened soft and greasy as though he had sweated out his fat in his\\nsleep. He pronounced a professional remark in a voice harsh and dead,\\nresembling the rasping sound of a wood-file on the edge of a plank; the\\nfold of his double chin hung like a bag triced up close under the hinge\\nof his jaw. Jim started\",\n \"--it is said--even jumped down to the\\nground--fifteen feet, I should judge--and broke his leg. The royal\\ngovernor of Patusan had bizarre mannerisms, and one of them was to\\nintroduce boastful rhapsodies into every arduous discussion, when,\\ngetting gradually excited, he would end by flying off his perch with a\\nkriss in his hand. But, barring such interruptions, the deliberations\\nupon Jim's fate went on night and day.\\n\\n'Meanwhile he wandered about the cour\",\n \"seen. He called him Tuan\\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at\"\n ],\n [\n \"er of the Patna had turned up in a more or less destitute state,\\nand got a temporary job of looking after the machinery of the mill. \\\"I\\ncouldn't stand the familiarity of the little beast,\\\" Jim wrote from a\\nseaport seven hundred miles south of the place where he should have been\\nin clover. \\\"I am now for the time with Egstrom & Blake, ship-chandlers,\\nas their--well--runner, to call the thing by its right name. For\\nreference I gave them your name, which they know of course, and if you\",\n \"'t have been drunk--was he? Such a quiet, soft-spoken\\nchap too--blush like a girl when he came on board. . . .' I tell you,\\nCaptain Marlow, nobody had a chance against us with a strange ship when\\nJim was out. The other ship-chandlers just kept their old customers, and\\n. . .\\\"\\n\\n'Egstrom appeared overcome with emotion.\\n\\n'\\\"Why, sir--it seemed as though he wouldn't mind going a hundred miles\\nout to sea in an old shoe to nab a ship for the\",\n \"good wages and as much humouring\\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\\n\\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\\nwas\",\n \"and it was directed apparently as much at himself as at\\nanybody else. He was spotlessly neat, apparelled in immaculate white\\nfrom shoes to hat, and in the various Eastern ports where he got his\\nliving as ship-chandler's water-clerk he was very popular.\\n\\nA water-clerk need not pass an examination in anything under the sun,\\nbut he must have Ability in the abstract and demonstrate it practically.\\nHis work consists in racing under sail, steam, or oars against other\\nwater-clerks for any ship about to anchor\",\n \"Charley here would call one\\nof my rational transactions,--and in Samarang I had seen something\\nof Jim. He was then working for De Jongh, on my recommendation.\\nWater-clerk. \\\"My representative afloat,\\\" as De Jongh called him. You\\ncan't imagine a mode of life more barren of consolation, less capable of\\nbeing invested with a spark of glamour--unless it be the business of an\\ninsurance canvasser. Little Bob Stanton--Charley here knew him well--had\\ngone through that experience. The same who\",\n \"ombay, in Calcutta, in Rangoon, in Penang, in Batavia--and in each of\\nthese halting-places was just Jim the water-clerk. Afterwards, when his\\nkeen perception of the Intolerable drove him away for good from seaports\\nand white men, even into the virgin forest, the Malays of the jungle\\nvillage, where he had elected to conceal his deplorable faculty, added a\\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\\none might say\",\n \"seen. He called him Tuan\\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at\",\n \"woman, and the jollity of a boon\\ncompanion. Later on the bill is sent in. It is a beautiful and humane\\noccupation. Therefore good water-clerks are scarce. When a water-clerk\\nwho possesses Ability in the abstract has also the advantage of having\\nbeen brought up to the sea, he is worth to his employer a lot of money\\nand some humouring. Jim had always good wages and as much humouring\\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\\ningratitude he would\",\n \", if you wanted ever so much. We've\\ngot a steamer.\\\" \\\"You've got the ghost of a steamer,\\\" I said. \\\"Good\\nenough for a start--there's no superior nonsense about us. Is there,\\nCaptain Robinson?\\\" \\\"No! no! no!\\\" croaked the old man without lifting\\nhis eyes, and the senile tremble of his head became almost fierce with\\ndetermination. \\\"I understand you know that young chap,\\\" said Chester,\\nwith a nod at the street from which Jim had disappeared long ago. \\\"He's\\nbe\",\n \"friend. I was trebly pleased--at Jim's shaping so well, at the\\ntone of the letter, at my own cleverness. Evidently I had known what\\nI was doing. I had read characters aright, and so on. And what if\\nsomething unexpected and wonderful were to come of it? That evening,\\nreposing in a deck-chair under the shade of my own poop awning (it\\nwas in Hong-Kong harbour), I laid on Jim's behalf the first stone of a\\ncastle in Spain.\\n\\n'I made a trip\",\n \", and\\nwith a raised hand checking the exclamation on my lips.\\n\\n'Then, while the half-caste, bursting with importance, shouted his\\norders, while the yards swung creaking and the heavy boom came surging\\nover, Jim and I, alone as it were, to leeward of the mainsail, clasped\\neach other's hands and exchanged the last hurried words. My heart was\\nfreed from that dull resentment which had existed side by side with\\ninterest in his fate. The absurd chatter of the half-caste had given\\nmore reality\",\n \"with a reputation for eccentricity, and owned\\na rice-mill) wrote to me, and judging, from the warmth of my\\nrecommendation, that I would like to hear, enlarged a little upon Jim's\\nperfections. These were apparently of a quiet and effective sort.\\n\\\"Not having been able so far to find more in my heart than a resigned\\ntoleration for any individual of my kind, I have lived till now alone\\nin a house that even in this steaming climate could be considered as too\\nbig for one man. I have had him to live with\",\n \"the tails of his coat blown hard against his legs.\\n\\n'I sat down again alone and discouraged--discouraged about Jim's case.\\nIf you wonder that after more than three years it had preserved its\\nactuality, you must know that I had seen him only very lately. I had\\ncome straight from Samarang, where I had loaded a cargo for Sydney: an\\nutterly uninteresting bit of business,--what Charley here would call one\\nof my rational transactions,--and in Samarang I had seen something\\nof Jim. He was then working for De\",\n \"detected the soft spot, the place of decay, the\\ndetermination to lounge safely through existence.\\n\\nTo Jim that gossiping crowd, viewed as seamen, seemed at first more\\nunsubstantial than so many shadows. But at length he found a fascination\\nin the sight of those men, in their appearance of doing so well on\\nsuch a small allowance of danger and toil. In time, beside the original\\ndisdain there grew up slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up\\nthe idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate of the Patna\",\n \"him\\nwith his spear to a baulk of timber like one of Stein's beetles. The\\nthird man in, it seems, had been Tamb' Itam, Jim's own servant. This was\\na Malay from the north, a stranger who had wandered into Patusan, and\\nhad been forcibly detained by Rajah Allang as paddler of one of the\\nstate boats. He had made a bolt of it at the first opportunity, and\\nfinding a precarious refuge (but very little to eat) amongst the Bugis\\nsett\",\n \"before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at the\\nphenomenon. Moreover, all the glory was in his family. His son and his\\nson-in-law had paddled; but they were only youths without experience,\\nwho did not notice the speed of the canoe till he pointed out to them\\nthe amazing fact.\\n\\n'Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing; but to them, as to\\nmany of us, the blessing came heralded\",\n \"the midst of\\ngrass-plots, flower-beds, and fir-trees, with an orchard at the back,\\na paved stable-yard to the left, and the sloping glass of greenhouses\\ntacked along a wall of bricks. The living had belonged to the family for\\ngenerations; but Jim was one of five sons, and when after a course of\\nlight holiday literature his vocation for the sea had declared itself,\\nhe was sent at once to a 'training-ship for officers of the mercantile\\nmarine.'\\n\\nHe learned there\",\n \"iness. She left the room, and\\nhe followed her; in the passage they disturbed an old hag who did the\\ncasual cooking of the household, though she was so decrepit as to be\\nhardly able to understand human speech. She got up and hobbled behind\\nthem, mumbling toothlessly. On the verandah a hammock of sail-cloth,\\nbelonging to Cornelius, swayed lightly to the touch of Jim's elbow. It\\nwas empty.\\n\\n'The Patusan establishment, like all the posts of Stein's Tr\",\n \"ating enthusiastically with a Parsee firm for an\\nold, brig-rigged, sea-anachronism of ninety horse-power. We had met and\\nspoken together several times. He looked knowingly after Jim. \\\"Takes\\nit to heart?\\\" he asked scornfully. \\\"Very much,\\\" I said. \\\"Then he's no\\ngood,\\\" he opined. \\\"What's all the to-do about? A bit of ass's skin. That\\nnever yet made a man. You must see things exactly as they are--if you\\ndon't, you may\",\n \"plorable faculty, added a\\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\\none might say--Lord Jim.\\n\\nOriginally he came from a parsonage. Many commanders of fine\\nmerchant-ships come from these abodes of piety and peace. Jim's father\\npossessed such certain knowledge of the Unknowable as made for the\\nrighteousness of people in cottages without disturbing the ease of mind\\nof those whom an unerring Providence enables to live in mansions. The\\nlittle\"\n ],\n [\n \"into them for\\nthe sake of better morality and--and--well--the greater profit, too.\\nIt was at breakfast of the morning following our talk about Jim that he\\nmentioned the place, after I had quoted poor Brierly's remark: \\\"Let him\\ncreep twenty feet underground and stay there.\\\" He looked up at me with\\ninterested attention, as though I had been a rare insect. \\\"This could be\\ndone, too,\\\" he remarked, sipping his coffee. \\\"Bury him in some sort,\\\"\\nI explained. \\\"One doesn't like to do it of course\",\n \"practical. We avoided pronouncing Jim's name\\nas though we had tried to keep flesh and blood out of our discussion,\\nor he were nothing but an erring spirit, a suffering and nameless shade.\\n\\\"Na!\\\" said Stein, rising. \\\"To-night you sleep here, and in the morning\\nwe shall do something practical--practical. . . .\\\" He lit a two-branched\\ncandlestick and led the way. We passed through empty dark rooms,\\nescorted by gleams from the lights Stein carried. They glided along the\\nwaxed floors\",\n \"woman had died, Stein was disposed to try another\\nagent there. The Portuguese, whose name was Cornelius, considered\\nhimself a very deserving but ill-used person, entitled by his abilities\\nto a better position. This man Jim would have to relieve. \\\"But I don't\\nthink he will go away from the place,\\\" remarked Stein. \\\"That has nothing\\nto do with me. It was only for the sake of the woman that I . . . But as\\nI think there is a daughter left, I shall let him, if he likes to stay,\\nkeep the old\",\n \"as an astronomer, I should fancy, would strongly object to being\\ntransported into a distant heavenly body, where, parted from his earthly\\nemoluments, he would be bewildered by the view of an unfamiliar heavens.\\nHowever, neither heavenly bodies nor astronomers have anything to do\\nwith Patusan. It was Jim who went there. I only meant you to understand\\nthat had Stein arranged to send him into a star of the fifth magnitude\\nthe change could not have been greater. He left his earthly failings\\nbehind him and what sort of reputation he had\",\n \"would be for the outside world as\\nthough he had never existed. He would have nothing but the soles of his\\ntwo feet to stand upon, and he would have first to find his ground at\\nthat. \\\"Never existed--that's it, by Jove,\\\" he murmured to himself. His\\neyes, fastened upon my lips, sparkled. If he had thoroughly understood\\nthe conditions, I concluded, he had better jump into the first gharry he\\ncould see and drive on to Stein's house for his final instructions. He\\nflung out of the room before I had fairly finished\",\n \".\\nStein had been the means of saving that chap's life on some occasion;\\npurely by accident, Mr. Stein had said, but he--Jim--had his own opinion\\nabout that. Mr. Stein was just the man to look out for such accidents.\\nNo matter. Accident or purpose, this would serve his turn immensely.\\nHoped to goodness the jolly old beggar had not gone off the hooks\\nmeantime. Mr. Stein could not tell. There had been no news for more\\nthan a year; they were kicking up no end of an all\",\n \"till now alone\\nin a house that even in this steaming climate could be considered as too\\nbig for one man. I have had him to live with me for some time past. It\\nseems I haven't made a mistake.\\\" It seemed to me on reading this letter\\nthat my friend had found in his heart more than tolerance for Jim--that\\nthere were the beginnings of active liking. Of course he stated his\\ngrounds in a characteristic way. For one thing, Jim kept his freshness\\nin the climate. Had he been a girl--my friend wrote--one could have\\nsaid\",\n \", and his hinted intentions were\\nso generous that I begged him most earnestly to keep them secret for\\na time. I felt that no consideration of personal advantage should be\\nallowed to influence Jim; that not even the risk of such influence\\nshould be run. We had to deal with another sort of reality. He wanted\\na refuge, and a refuge at the cost of danger should be offered\\nhim--nothing more.\\n\\n'Upon every other point I was perfectly frank with him, and I even (as\\nI believed at the time) exaggerated the danger of the undertaking. As\\n\",\n \"anybody from the British Isles. His late benefactor, it is true, was a\\nScot--even to the length of being called Alexander McNeil--and Jim came\\nfrom a long way south of the Tweed; but at the distance of six or\\nseven thousand miles Great Britain, though never diminished, looks\\nforeshortened enough even to its own children to rob such details of\\ntheir importance. Stein was excusable, and his hinted intentions were\\nso generous that I begged him most earnestly to keep them secret for\\na time. I felt that no consideration\",\n \"\\non Stein's verandah, and who was amongst them, told me that the boat,\\nshaving the low point close, seemed for a moment to grow big and hang\\nover it like a mountain. \\\"If you think it worth your while to wait a\\nday outside,\\\" called out Jim, \\\"I'll try to send you down something--a\\nbullock, some yams--what I can.\\\" The shadow went on moving. \\\"Yes. Do,\\\"\\nsaid a voice, blank and muffled out of the fog. Not one of the many\\nattentive listeners understood what the\",\n \"forgive him,\\\" I concluded, and my own voice\\nseemed to me muffled, lost in un irresponsive deaf immensity. \\\"We all\\nwant to be forgiven,\\\" I added after a while.\\n\\n'\\\"What have I done?\\\" she asked with her lips only.\\n\\n'\\\"You always mistrusted him,\\\" I said.\\n\\n'\\\"He was like the others,\\\" she pronounced slowly.\\n\\n'\\\"Not like the others,\\\" I protested, but she continued evenly, without\\nany feeling--\\n\\n'\\\"He was false.\\\" And suddenly Stein broke in. \\\"No! no! no\",\n \"ieftain,\\\" said Jim, \\\"with his\\nlittle fierce eyes--a pair of immense flintlock pistols on his knees.\\nMagnificent things, ebony, silver-mounted, with beautiful locks and\\na calibre like an old blunderbuss. A present from Stein, it seems--in\\nexchange for that ring, you know. Used to belong to good old McNeil. God\\nonly knows how _he_ came by them. There he sat, moving neither hand nor\\nfoot, a flame of dry brushwood behind him, and lots of people rushing\\n\",\n \"skippers to take it there) did\\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cornelius within an\\ninch of his life; on the other hand, the scenes were of so painful\\na character, so abominable, that his impulse would be to get out of\\nearshot, in order to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,\\nspeechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a stony,\\ndesperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and say\",\n \"self.\\n\\n'He shook his head slowly, and afterwards looked at me with a patient\\nand inquiring glance. It was a shame, he said. There we were sitting\\nand talking like two boys, instead of putting our heads together to find\\nsomething practical--a practical remedy--for the evil--for the great\\nevil--he repeated, with a humorous and indulgent smile. For all that,\\nour talk did not grow more practical. We avoided pronouncing Jim's name\\nas though we had tried to keep flesh and blood out of our discussion,\\nor he were nothing\",\n \"each taking\\na little of your substance, each carrying away some crumb of that belief\\nin a few simple notions you must cling to if you want to live decently\\nand would like to die easy!\\n\\n'This has nothing to do with Jim, directly; only he was outwardly so\\ntypical of that good, stupid kind we like to feel marching right and\\nleft of us in life, of the kind that is not disturbed by the vagaries of\\nintelligence and the perversions of--of nerves, let us say. He was the\\nkind of fellow you would,\",\n \"would naturally\\nfind his way to Stein's house. I returned his greeting and passed on. At\\nthe door of Stein's room I came upon another Malay in whom I recognised\\nTamb' Itam.\\n\\n'I asked him at once what he was doing there; it occurred to me that\\nJim might have come on a visit. I own I was pleased and excited at the\\nthought. Tamb' Itam looked as if he did not know what to say. \\\"Is Tuan\\nJim inside?\\\" I asked impatiently. \\\"No,\\\" he mumbled, hanging his\",\n \"nothing else for it now--if\\nJim cared a pin for his life. What's eighty dollars? A trifle. An\\ninsignificant sum. While he, Cornelius, who had to remain behind, was\\nabsolutely courting death by this proof of devotion to Mr. Stein's young\\nfriend. The sight of his abject grimacing was--Jim told me--very hard\\nto bear: he clutched at his hair, beat his breast, rocked himself to\\nand fro with his hands pressed to his stomach, and actually pretended to\\ns\",\n \"It was an act of intelligent volition. Jim between two questions forgot\\nhimself so far as to find leisure for a thought. This fellow--ran the\\nthought--looks at me as though he could see somebody or something past\\nmy shoulder. He had come across that man before--in the street perhaps.\\nHe was positive he had never spoken to him. For days, for many days,\\nhe had spoken to no one, but had held silent, incoherent, and endless\\nconverse with himself, like a prisoner alone in his cell or like a\\nwayfarer lost in a wild\",\n \",\\\" he remarked, sipping his coffee. \\\"Bury him in some sort,\\\"\\nI explained. \\\"One doesn't like to do it of course, but it would be the\\nbest thing, seeing what he is.\\\" \\\"Yes; he is young,\\\" Stein mused. \\\"The\\nyoungest human being now in existence,\\\" I affirmed. \\\"Schon. There's\\nPatusan,\\\" he went on in the same tone. . . . \\\"And the woman is dead\\nnow,\\\" he added incomprehensibly.\\n\\n'Of course I don't know that story; I\",\n \"he did not know what to say. \\\"Is Tuan\\nJim inside?\\\" I asked impatiently. \\\"No,\\\" he mumbled, hanging his head\\nfor a moment, and then with sudden earnestness, \\\"He would not fight. He\\nwould not fight,\\\" he repeated twice. As he seemed unable to say anything\\nelse, I pushed him aside and went in.\\n\\n'Stein, tall and stooping, stood alone in the middle of the room between\\nthe rows of butterfly cases. \\\"Ach! is it you, my friend?\\\" he said\\nsadly,\"\n ],\n [\n \"woman that I . . . But as\\nI think there is a daughter left, I shall let him, if he likes to stay,\\nkeep the old house.\\\"\\n\\n'Patusan is a remote district of a native-ruled state, and the chief\\nsettlement bears the same name. At a point on the river about forty\\nmiles from the sea, where the first houses come into view, there can\\nbe seen rising above the level of the forests the summits of two steep\\nhills very close together, and separated by what looks like a deep\\nfissure, the\",\n \"\\n'Perhaps he had heard of Patusan--or perhaps he just only happened to\\nsee the name written in small letters on the chart--probably that of a\\nlargish village up a river in a native state, perfectly defenceless, far\\nfrom the beaten tracks of the sea and from the ends of submarine cables.\\nHe had done that kind of thing before--in the way of business;\\nand this now was an absolute necessity, a question of life and\\ndeath--or rather of liberty. Of liberty! He was sure to get\\nprovisions--bullocks--\",\n \"casts, enraged with hunger and hunted by\\nfear. Brown's idea was to make for Madagascar, where he expected, on\\ngrounds not altogether illusory, to sell the schooner in Tamatave, and\\nno questions asked, or perhaps obtain some more or less forged papers\\nfor her. Yet before he could face the long passage across the Indian\\nOcean food was wanted--water too.\\n\\n'Perhaps he had heard of Patusan--or perhaps he just only happened to\\nsee the name written in small letters on the chart--pro\",\n \"aberrations of its\\nlight--a sort of scientific scandal-mongering. Thus with Patusan. It\\nwas referred to knowingly in the inner government circles in Batavia,\\nespecially as to its irregularities and aberrations, and it was known\\nby name to some few, very few, in the mercantile world. Nobody, however,\\nhad been there, and I suspect no one desired to go there in person,\\njust as an astronomer, I should fancy, would strongly object to being\\ntransported into a distant heavenly body, where, parted from his earthly\",\n \"after a silence occupied in the careful lighting of a cigar. 'It does\\nnot matter; there's many a heavenly body in the lot crowding upon us of\\na night that mankind had never heard of, it being outside the sphere\\nof its activities and of no earthly importance to anybody but to the\\nastronomers who are paid to talk learnedly about its composition,\\nweight, path--the irregularities of its conduct, the aberrations of its\\nlight--a sort of scientific scandal-mongering. Thus with Patusan. It\\nwas referred to knowingly in the\",\n \"ation over a barricade of felled trees (there wasn't\\na week without some fight in Patusan at that time), burst through a\\nfence into a maize-patch, where a scared boy flung a stick at him,\\nblundered upon a path, and ran all at once into the arms of several\\nstartled men. He just had breath enough to gasp out, \\\"Doramin! Doramin!\\\"\\nHe remembers being half-carried, half-rushed to the top of the slope,\\nand in a vast enclosure with palms and fruit trees\",\n \"irty miles of forest shut it off from the sight of\\nan indifferent world, and the noise of the white surf along the coast\\noverpowered the voice of fame. The stream of civilisation, as if divided\\non a headland a hundred miles north of Patusan, branches east and\\nsouth-east, leaving its plains and valleys, its old trees and its old\\nmankind, neglected and isolated, such as an insignificant and crumbling\\nislet between the two branches of a mighty, devouring stream. You find\\nthe name of the country pretty\",\n \"farers. She had been carried off to Patusan before her eyes\\nwere open. She had grown up there; she had seen nothing, she had known\\nnothing, she had no conception of anything. I ask myself whether she\\nwere sure that anything else existed. What notions she may have formed\\nof the outside world is to me inconceivable: all that she knew of its\\ninhabitants were a betrayed woman and a sinister pantaloon. Her lover\\nalso came to her from there, gifted with irresistible seductions; but\\nwhat would become\",\n \"in some commercial house in\\nthe Dutch colonies. I gathered from Stein that this man was an\\nunsatisfactory person in more ways than one, all being more or less\\nindefinite and offensive. It was solely for his wife's sake that Stein\\nhad appointed him manager of Stein & Co.'s trading post in Patusan;\\nbut commercially the arrangement was not a success, at any rate for\\nthe firm, and now the woman had died, Stein was disposed to try another\\nagent there. The Portuguese, whose name was Cornelius, considered\\nhimself a very des\",\n \"raised arm. \\\"Sleep well. And to-morrow we must do something\\npractical--practical. . . .\\\"\\n\\n'Though his own room was beyond mine I saw him return the way he came.\\nHe was going back to his butterflies.'\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER 21\\n\\n\\n'I don't suppose any of you have ever heard of Patusan?' Marlow resumed,\\nafter a silence occupied in the careful lighting of a cigar. 'It does\\nnot matter; there's many a heavenly body in the lot crow\",\n \". He traversed more\\nthan half the length of the settlement. The nimbler women fled right and\\nleft, the slower men just dropped whatever they had in their hands, and\\nremained petrified with dropping jaws. He was a flying terror. He says\\nhe noticed the little children trying to run for life, falling on their\\nlittle stomachs and kicking. He swerved between two houses up a slope,\\nclambered in desperation over a barricade of felled trees (there wasn't\\na week without some fight in Patusan at that time), burst through a\",\n \"life. I know his sort.\\\" He fixed me\\nsteadfastly with both his eyes open, while I stood over him utterly\\namazed, and asking myself whether he was mad or drunk. He perspired,\\npuffed, moaning feebly, and scratching himself with such horrible\\ncomposure that I could not bear the sight long enough to find out. Next\\nday, talking casually with the people of the little native court of the\\nplace, I discovered that a story was travelling slowly down the\\ncoast about a mysterious white man in Patusan who had got hold of\\nan\",\n \"descent, with\\nturned-out, shiny lips. I found him lying extended on his back in a cane\\nchair, odiously unbuttoned, with a large green leaf of some sort on the\\ntop of his steaming head, and another in his hand which he used lazily\\nas a fan . . . Going to Patusan? Oh yes. Stein's Trading Company. He\\nknew. Had a permission? No business of his. It was not so bad there now,\\nhe remarked negligently, and, he went on drawling, \\\"There's some sort\",\n \"\\n\\\"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\\\"\\ncommented Brown half aloud. \\\"No, no. The proper way is to kill him the\\nfirst chance you get, and then you can do what you like,\\\" Cornelius\\nwould insist earnestly. \\\"I have lived for many years here, and I am\\ngiving you a friend's advice.\\\"\\n\\n'In such converse and in gloating over the view of Patusan, which he had\\ndetermined in his mind should become his prey, Brown whiled away most\\nof the afternoon\",\n \"\\n'Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing; but to them, as to\\nmany of us, the blessing came heralded by terrors. So many generations\\nhad been released since the last white man had visited the river that\\nthe very tradition had been lost. The appearance of the being that\\ndescended upon them and demanded inflexibly to be taken up to Patusan\\nwas discomposing; his insistence was alarming; his generosity more than\\nsuspicious. It was an unheard-of request. There was no precedent. What\\nw\",\n \", I believe, on\\npurely religious grounds, had incited the tribes in the interior (the\\nbush-folk, as Jim himself called them) to rise, and had established\\nhimself in a fortified camp on the summit of one of the twin hills. He\\nhung over the town of Patusan like a hawk over a poultry-yard, but he\\ndevastated the open country. Whole villages, deserted, rotted on their\\nblackened posts over the banks of clear streams, dropping piecemeal into\\nthe water the grass of their walls, the leaves\",\n \"\\nPatusan, with their huts and little plots of ground under the walls of\\nthe stronghold. Within he would be an invincible host in himself \\\"The\\nFort, Patusan.\\\" No date, as you observe. What is a number and a name to\\na day of days? It is also impossible to say whom he had in his mind when\\nhe seized the pen: Stein--myself--the world at large--or was this only\\nthe aimless startled cry of a solitary man confronted by his fate? \\\"An\\nawful thing has happened,\\\" he wrote\",\n \", at a little place on the coast about 230 miles south of Patusan\\nRiver. Stein's schooner, in which I had my passage, put in there, to\\ncollect some produce, and, going ashore, I found to my great surprise\\nthat the wretched locality could boast of a third-class deputy-assistant\\nresident, a big, fat, greasy, blinking fellow of mixed descent, with\\nturned-out, shiny lips. I found him lying extended on his back in a cane\\nchair, odiously unbuttoned\",\n \"detailed and amazing impression of a dream.\\nWhy should she fear? She knew him to be strong, true, wise, brave. He\\nwas all that. Certainly. He was more. He was great--invincible--and the\\nworld did not want him, it had forgotten him, it would not even know\\nhim.\\n\\n'I stopped; the silence over Patusan was profound, and the feeble dry\\nsound of a paddle striking the side of a canoe somewhere in the middle\\nof the river seemed to make it infinite. \\\"Why?\\\" she murmured. I felt\\nthat sort\",\n \"ear, and evidently I had given him food for thought. Strangely enough,\\non the evening of that very day (which was my last in Patusan) I was\\nonce more confronted with the same question, with the unanswerable why\\nof Jim's fate. And this brings me to the story of his love.\\n\\n'I suppose you think it is a story that you can imagine for yourselves.\\nWe have heard so many such stories, and the majority of us don't believe\\nthem to be stories of love at all. For the most part we look upon them\"\n ],\n [\n \"good wages and as much humouring\\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\\n\\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\\nwas\",\n \"ombay, in Calcutta, in Rangoon, in Penang, in Batavia--and in each of\\nthese halting-places was just Jim the water-clerk. Afterwards, when his\\nkeen perception of the Intolerable drove him away for good from seaports\\nand white men, even into the virgin forest, the Malays of the jungle\\nvillage, where he had elected to conceal his deplorable faculty, added a\\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\\none might say\",\n \"As you may say Lord Jim.\\\" \\\"What is\\nhe? Where does he come from?\\\" inquired Brown. \\\"What sort of man is he?\\nIs he an Englishman?\\\" \\\"Yes, yes, he's an Englishman. I am an Englishman\\ntoo. From Malacca. He is a fool. All you have to do is to kill him and\\nthen you are king here. Everything belongs to him,\\\" explained Cornelius.\\n\\\"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\\\"\\ncommented Brown half aloud. \\\"No, no. The proper\",\n \"seen. He called him Tuan\\nJim, and the tone of his references was made remarkable by a strange\\nmixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the village, were under that\\nlord's special protection, which showed that Jim bore no grudge. If\\nhe had warned me that I would hear of him it was perfectly true. I was\\nhearing of him. There was already a story that the tide had turned\\ntwo hours before its time to help him on his journey up the river. The\\ntalkative old man himself had steered the canoe and had marvelled at\",\n \"'s wisdom. If he could only obtain a\\npromise! One word would be enough! . . . His breathing silences, the\\nlow rumblings of his voice, recalled the last efforts of a spent\\nthunderstorm.\\n\\n'I tried to put the subject aside. It was difficult, for there could be\\nno question that Jim had the power; in his new sphere there did not seem\\nto be anything that was not his to hold or to give. But that, I repeat,\\nwas nothing in comparison with the notion, which occurred to me, while I\\nlistened with a show\",\n \"\\n\\n'The defeated Sherif Ali fled the country without making another stand,\\nand when the miserable hunted villagers began to crawl out of the jungle\\nback to their rotting houses, it was Jim who, in consultation with Dain\\nWaris, appointed the headmen. Thus he became the virtual ruler of the\\nland. As to old Tunku Allang, his fears at first had known no bounds. It\\nis said that at the intelligence of the successful storming of the hill\\nhe flung himself, face down, on the bamboo floor of his audience-hall,\\n\",\n \"His--if I may say so--his caustic placidity,\\nand, at the same time, his intelligent sympathy with Jim's aspirations,\\nappealed to me. I seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If\\nJim took the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In fact, Jim\\nthe leader was a captive in every sense. The land, the people, the\\nfriendship, the love, were like the jealous guardians of his body.\\nEvery day added a link to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt\\nconvinced of\",\n \"ing in his own fashion upon\\nthe events of the last three years. Brown, who, apparently indifferent\\nand gazing away, listened with attention to every word, could not make\\nout clearly what sort of man this Jim could be. \\\"What's his name?\\nJim! Jim! That's not enough for a man's name.\\\" \\\"They call him,\\\" said\\nCornelius scornfully, \\\"Tuan Jim here. As you may say Lord Jim.\\\" \\\"What is\\nhe? Where does he come from?\\\" inquired Brown. \\\"What sort of man is he?\",\n \"place surroundings of an Eastern roadstead, I saw his form\\npass by--appealing--significant--under a cloud--perfectly silent. Which\\nis as it should be. It was for me, with all the sympathy of which I was\\ncapable, to seek fit words for his meaning. He was 'one of us'.\\n\\nJ.C.\\n\\n1917.\\n\\n\\nLORD JIM\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER 1\\n\\n\\nHe was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he\\nadvanced straight at you with\",\n \"suddenly the chief engineer rushed again at Jim.\\n\\n'\\\"Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw your only chance away? Come\\nand help, man! Man! Look there--look!\\\"\\n\\n'And at last Jim looked astern where the other pointed with maniacal\\ninsistence. He saw a silent black squall which had eaten up already\\none-third of the sky. You know how these squalls come up there about\\nthat time of the year. First you see a darkening of the horizon--no\\nmore; then a cloud rises opaque like a wall. A straight\",\n \"ide business and to the captains of ships\\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\\nwas anxious that it should not be pronounced. His incognito, which had\\nas many holes as a sieve, was not meant to hide a personality but a\\nfact. When the fact broke through the incognito he would leave\\nsuddenly the seaport where he happened to be at the time and go to\\nanother--generally farther east. He kept to seaports because he was a\\nseaman in exile from the sea,\",\n \"plorable faculty, added a\\nword to the monosyllable of his incognito. They called him Tuan Jim: as\\none might say--Lord Jim.\\n\\nOriginally he came from a parsonage. Many commanders of fine\\nmerchant-ships come from these abodes of piety and peace. Jim's father\\npossessed such certain knowledge of the Unknowable as made for the\\nrighteousness of people in cottages without disturbing the ease of mind\\nof those whom an unerring Providence enables to live in mansions. The\\nlittle\",\n \"is he different? Is he better? Is he . . .\\\" \\\"Upon my word of honour,\\\" I\\nbroke in, \\\"I believe he is.\\\" We subdued our tones to a mysterious pitch.\\nAmongst the huts of Jim's workmen (they were mostly liberated slaves\\nfrom the Sherif's stockade) somebody started a shrill, drawling song.\\nAcross the river a big fire (at Doramin's, I think) made a glowing\\nball, completely isolated in the night. \\\"Is he more true?\\\" she murmured.\\n\\\"Yes\",\n \"--it is said--even jumped down to the\\nground--fifteen feet, I should judge--and broke his leg. The royal\\ngovernor of Patusan had bizarre mannerisms, and one of them was to\\nintroduce boastful rhapsodies into every arduous discussion, when,\\ngetting gradually excited, he would end by flying off his perch with a\\nkriss in his hand. But, barring such interruptions, the deliberations\\nupon Jim's fate went on night and day.\\n\\n'Meanwhile he wandered about the cour\",\n \", I believe, on\\npurely religious grounds, had incited the tribes in the interior (the\\nbush-folk, as Jim himself called them) to rise, and had established\\nhimself in a fortified camp on the summit of one of the twin hills. He\\nhung over the town of Patusan like a hawk over a poultry-yard, but he\\ndevastated the open country. Whole villages, deserted, rotted on their\\nblackened posts over the banks of clear streams, dropping piecemeal into\\nthe water the grass of their walls, the leaves\",\n \"\\n'Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing; but to them, as to\\nmany of us, the blessing came heralded by terrors. So many generations\\nhad been released since the last white man had visited the river that\\nthe very tradition had been lost. The appearance of the being that\\ndescended upon them and demanded inflexibly to be taken up to Patusan\\nwas discomposing; his insistence was alarming; his generosity more than\\nsuspicious. It was an unheard-of request. There was no precedent. What\\nw\",\n \"and to himself\\nalways. Vanity plays lurid tricks with our memory, and the truth of\\nevery passion wants some pretence to make it live. Standing at the gate\\nof the other world in the guise of a beggar, he had slapped this world's\\nface, he had spat on it, he had thrown upon it an immensity of scorn\\nand revolt at the bottom of his misdeeds. He had overcome them all--men,\\nwomen, savages, traders, ruffians, missionaries--and Jim--\\\"that\\nbeefy-faced begg\",\n \"broke up he was heard outside accosting this and that deputing chief,\\nand speaking in a loud, gratified tone of the Rajah's property being\\nprotected in the Rajah's absence.\\n\\n'About ten or so Jim's men marched in. The stockade commanded the mouth\\nof the creek, and Jim meant to remain there till Brown had passed below.\\nA small fire was lit on the flat, grassy point outside the wall of\\nstakes, and Tamb' Itam placed a little folding-stool for his master. Jim\\ntold him to\",\n \"watching us four dwarfs isolated on a strip of glistening sand.\\n\\n'\\\"The trouble is,\\\" remarked Jim moodily, \\\"that for generations these\\nbeggars of fishermen in that village there had been considered as the\\nRajah's personal slaves--and the old rip can't get it into his head that\\n. . .\\\"\\n\\n'He paused. \\\"That you have changed all that,\\\" I said.\\n\\n'\\\"Yes I've changed all that,\\\" he muttered in a gloomy voice.\\n\\n'\\\"You have had your opportunity,\\\" I pursued.\\n\\n'\\\"\",\n \"of him. No magician's wand can immobilise him under my eyes. He\\nis one of us.\\n\\n'Jim, as I've told you, accompanied me on the first stage of my journey\\nback to the world he had renounced, and the way at times seemed to\\nlead through the very heart of untouched wilderness. The empty reaches\\nsparkled under the high sun; between the high walls of vegetation the\\nheat drowsed upon the water, and the boat, impelled vigorously, cut her\\nway through the air that seemed to\"\n ],\n [\n \"advancing with alacrity. He did not know what\\nhis master meant, but as soon as Jim made a movement the girl started\\ntoo and walked down into the open space. It seems that no one else of\\nthe people of the house was in sight. She tottered slightly, and about\\nhalf-way down called out to Jim, who had apparently resumed his peaceful\\ncontemplation of the river. He turned round, setting his back against\\nthe gun. \\\"Will you fight?\\\" she cried. \\\"There is nothing to fight for,\\\"\\nhe said; \\\"nothing is lost.\\\" Saying\",\n \"His--if I may say so--his caustic placidity,\\nand, at the same time, his intelligent sympathy with Jim's aspirations,\\nappealed to me. I seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If\\nJim took the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In fact, Jim\\nthe leader was a captive in every sense. The land, the people, the\\nfriendship, the love, were like the jealous guardians of his body.\\nEvery day added a link to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt\\nconvinced of\",\n \"ear, and evidently I had given him food for thought. Strangely enough,\\non the evening of that very day (which was my last in Patusan) I was\\nonce more confronted with the same question, with the unanswerable why\\nof Jim's fate. And this brings me to the story of his love.\\n\\n'I suppose you think it is a story that you can imagine for yourselves.\\nWe have heard so many such stories, and the majority of us don't believe\\nthem to be stories of love at all. For the most part we look upon them\",\n \"first who withdraws his\\narm or turns his head is a dead man,\\\" he said. \\\"March!\\\" They stepped out\\ntogether, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing\\nwhite gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light.\\nErect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the\\nonly sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. \\\"Stop!\\\"\\ncried Jim.\\n\\n'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on\",\n \"loved, enjoyed, or hated; all that is\\npriceless and necessary--the sunshine, the memories, the future; which\\nmeans to sweep the whole precious world utterly away from his sight by\\nthe simple and appalling act of taking his life.\\n\\nJim, disabled by a falling spar at the beginning of a week of which his\\nScottish captain used to say afterwards, 'Man! it's a pairfect meeracle\\nto me how she lived through it!' spent many days stretched on his back,\\ndazed, battered, hopeless, and tormented as\",\n \"\\nThen I am sure she understood much--not everything--the fear mostly, it\\nseems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in the sense of a\\nprecious gem--jewel. Pretty, isn't it? But he was capable of anything.\\nHe was equal to his fortune, as he--after all--must have been equal to\\nhis misfortune. Jewel he called her; and he would say this as he might\\nhave said \\\"Jane,\\\" don't you know--with a marital, homelike, peaceful\\neffect. I heard the name\",\n \"quickly, \\\"You were to be set\\nupon while you slept.\\\" Jim tells me he experienced a sense of deception.\\nIt was the old story. He was weary of these attempts upon his life. He\\nhad had his fill of these alarms. He was sick of them. He assured me he\\nwas angry with the girl for deceiving him. He had followed her under the\\nimpression that it was she who wanted his help, and now he had half\\na mind to turn on his heel and go back in disgust. \\\"Do you know,\\\" he\\ncommented profoundly, \\\"I\",\n \"firm glance and his ironic friendliness; the girl, absorbed in her\\nfrightened, suspicious adoration; Tamb' Itam, surly and faithful;\\nCornelius, leaning his forehead against the fence under the moonlight--I\\nam certain of them. They exist as if under an enchanter's wand. But the\\nfigure round which all these are grouped--that one lives, and I am not\\ncertain of him. No magician's wand can immobilise him under my eyes. He\\nis one of us.\\n\\n'Jim, as\",\n \"separate her fingers. Jim, bending\\nover her, looked earnestly upon her face, and all at once ran to the\\nlanding-stage. Tamb' Itam followed him, but turning his head, he saw\\nthat she had struggled up to her feet. She ran after them a few steps,\\nthen fell down heavily on her knees. \\\"Tuan! Tuan!\\\" called Tamb' Itam,\\n\\\"look back;\\\" but Jim was already in a canoe, standing up paddle in hand.\\nHe did not look back. Tamb' Itam had just time to scramble in after\\n\",\n \"three budged. \\\"Jump!\\\" he thundered. The\\nthree splashes made one splash, a shower flew up, black heads bobbed\\nconvulsively, and disappeared; but a great blowing and spluttering went\\non, growing faint, for they were diving industriously in great fear of\\na parting shot. Jim turned to the girl, who had been a silent and\\nattentive observer. His heart seemed suddenly to grow too big for his\\nbreast and choke him in the hollow of his throat. This probably made\\nhim speechless for so long, and after\",\n \"skippers to take it there) did\\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cornelius within an\\ninch of his life; on the other hand, the scenes were of so painful\\na character, so abominable, that his impulse would be to get out of\\nearshot, in order to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,\\nspeechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a stony,\\ndesperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and say\",\n \"graph cables and mail-boat\\nlines, the haggard utilitarian lies of our civilisation wither and die,\\nto be replaced by pure exercises of imagination, that have the futility,\\noften the charm, and sometimes the deep hidden truthfulness, of works of\\nart? Romance had singled Jim for its own--and that was the true part of\\nthe story, which otherwise was all wrong. He did not hide his jewel. In\\nfact, he was extremely proud of it.\\n\\n'It comes to me now that I had, on the whole, seen very little of her\",\n \"good wages and as much humouring\\nas would have bought the fidelity of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black\\ningratitude he would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To his\\nemployers the reasons he gave were obviously inadequate. They said\\n'Confounded fool!' as soon as his back was turned. This was their\\ncriticism on his exquisite sensibility.\\n\\nTo the white men in the waterside business and to the captains of ships\\nhe was just Jim--nothing more. He had, of course, another name, but he\\nwas\",\n \"No lights!\\\" he said in a loud, surprised\\nvoice. \\\"What are you doing in the dark--you two?\\\" Next moment he caught\\nsight of her, I suppose. \\\"Hallo, girl!\\\" he cried cheerily. \\\"Hallo, boy!\\\"\\nshe answered at once, with amazing pluck.\\n\\n'This was their usual greeting to each other, and the bit of swagger she\\nwould put into her rather high but sweet voice was very droll, pretty,\\nand childlike. It delighted Jim greatly. This was the last occasion on\\nwhich I heard them exchange this familiar\",\n \"In\\nfact, he was extremely proud of it.\\n\\n'It comes to me now that I had, on the whole, seen very little of her.\\nWhat I remember best is the even, olive pallor of her complexion, and\\nthe intense blue-black gleams of her hair, flowing abundantly from under\\na small crimson cap she wore far back on her shapely head. Her movements\\nwere free, assured, and she blushed a dusky red. While Jim and I were\\ntalking, she would come and go with rapid glances at us, leaving on her\",\n \"and to himself\\nalways. Vanity plays lurid tricks with our memory, and the truth of\\nevery passion wants some pretence to make it live. Standing at the gate\\nof the other world in the guise of a beggar, he had slapped this world's\\nface, he had spat on it, he had thrown upon it an immensity of scorn\\nand revolt at the bottom of his misdeeds. He had overcome them all--men,\\nwomen, savages, traders, ruffians, missionaries--and Jim--\\\"that\\nbeefy-faced begg\",\n \"'s wisdom. If he could only obtain a\\npromise! One word would be enough! . . . His breathing silences, the\\nlow rumblings of his voice, recalled the last efforts of a spent\\nthunderstorm.\\n\\n'I tried to put the subject aside. It was difficult, for there could be\\nno question that Jim had the power; in his new sphere there did not seem\\nto be anything that was not his to hold or to give. But that, I repeat,\\nwas nothing in comparison with the notion, which occurred to me, while I\\nlistened with a show\",\n \"ended, wonderful in their\\ndistinct and immaterial clearness. Jim sat on the trunk of a felled\\ntree, and pulling out his pipe began to smoke. A new growth of grass and\\nbushes was springing up; there were traces of an earthwork under a mass\\nof thorny twigs. \\\"It all started from here,\\\" he said, after a long and\\nmeditative silence. On the other hill, two hundred yards across a sombre\\nprecipice, I saw a line of high blackened stakes, showing here and there\\nruinously--the remnants of\",\n \", the barrier of forest, the\\nsolitude and the turmoil round these two lonely lives, and every word\\nspoken between them penetrated with sad meaning. There must have\\nbeen confidences, not so much of fact, I suppose, as of innermost\\nfeelings--regrets--fears--warnings, no doubt: warnings that the younger\\ndid not fully understand till the elder was dead--and Jim came along.\\nThen I am sure she understood much--not everything--the fear mostly, it\\nseems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in\",\n \"till now alone\\nin a house that even in this steaming climate could be considered as too\\nbig for one man. I have had him to live with me for some time past. It\\nseems I haven't made a mistake.\\\" It seemed to me on reading this letter\\nthat my friend had found in his heart more than tolerance for Jim--that\\nthere were the beginnings of active liking. Of course he stated his\\ngrounds in a characteristic way. For one thing, Jim kept his freshness\\nin the climate. Had he been a girl--my friend wrote--one could have\\nsaid\"\n ],\n [\n \"Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war--in a corner?\\nand the fellow had been killed cleanly, shot through the chest, not like\\nthat poor devil of his lying now in the creek. They had to listen to him\\ndying for six hours, with his entrails torn with slugs. At any rate this\\nwas a life for a life. . . . And all this was said with the weariness,\\nwith the recklessness of a man spurred on and\",\n \"the night. Doramin, struggling to\\nkeep his feet, made with his two supporters a swaying, tottering group;\\nhis little eyes stared with an expression of mad pain, of rage, with\\na ferocious glitter, which the bystanders noticed; and then, while Jim\\nstood stiffened and with bared head in the light of torches, looking him\\nstraight in the face, he clung heavily with his left arm round the neck\\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\\nfriend through the chest.\\n\\n'The crowd\",\n \"from his fist held off,\\na little above his head. A cloth wound tight round his loins seemed\\ndazzlingly white on his bronze skin; his naked body glistened as if wet.\\n\\n'Jim noted all this. He told me he was experiencing a feeling of\\nunutterable relief, of vengeful elation. He held his shot, he says,\\ndeliberately. He held it for the tenth part of a second, for three\\nstrides of the man--an unconscionable time. He held it for the pleasure\\nof saying to himself,\",\n \"way giving him the slightest chance of attaining\\nhis ends--he argued in a fit of coughing. But he didn't tell Jim this.\\nAs to the hardships and starvation they had gone through, these had been\\nvery real; it was enough to look at his band. He made, at the sound of a\\nshrill whistle, all his men appear standing in a row on the logs in full\\nview, so that Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war\",\n \"round the neck\\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\\nfriend through the chest.\\n\\n'The crowd, which had fallen apart behind Jim as soon as Doramin had\\nraised his hand, rushed tumultuously forward after the shot. They say\\nthat the white man sent right and left at all those faces a proud and\\nunflinching glance. Then with his hand over his lips he fell forward,\\ndead.\\n\\n'And that's the end. He passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart,\\nforgotten\",\n \"\\n\\n'The explosion in that confined space was stunning. He stepped back a\\npace. He saw the man jerk his head up, fling his arms forward, and drop\\nthe kriss. He ascertained afterwards that he had shot him through the\\nmouth, a little upwards, the bullet coming out high at the back of the\\nskull. With the impetus of his rush the man drove straight on, his face\\nsuddenly gaping disfigured, with his hands open before him gropingly, as\\nthough blinded, and landed with terrific violence on his forehead,\",\n \"loved, enjoyed, or hated; all that is\\npriceless and necessary--the sunshine, the memories, the future; which\\nmeans to sweep the whole precious world utterly away from his sight by\\nthe simple and appalling act of taking his life.\\n\\nJim, disabled by a falling spar at the beginning of a week of which his\\nScottish captain used to say afterwards, 'Man! it's a pairfect meeracle\\nto me how she lived through it!' spent many days stretched on his back,\\ndazed, battered, hopeless, and tormented as\",\n \"of sooty smoke from the torch, in which\\nthe unswaying flame burned blood-red without a flicker. He walked in\\nresolutely, striding over the dead body, and covered with his revolver\\nanother naked figure outlined vaguely at the other end. As he was about\\nto pull the trigger, the man threw away with force a short heavy spear,\\nand squatted submissively on his hams, his back to the wall and his\\nclasped hands between his legs. \\\"You want your life?\\\" Jim said. The\\nother made no sound. \\\"How\",\n \"advancing with alacrity. He did not know what\\nhis master meant, but as soon as Jim made a movement the girl started\\ntoo and walked down into the open space. It seems that no one else of\\nthe people of the house was in sight. She tottered slightly, and about\\nhalf-way down called out to Jim, who had apparently resumed his peaceful\\ncontemplation of the river. He turned round, setting his back against\\nthe gun. \\\"Will you fight?\\\" she cried. \\\"There is nothing to fight for,\\\"\\nhe said; \\\"nothing is lost.\\\" Saying\",\n \"laughter is unseemly.\\nAre they not cruel, bloodthirsty robbers bent on killing?\\\" \\\"Let her be,\\\"\\nsaid Jim, and as a silence fell suddenly, he said slowly, \\\"Everybody\\nshall be safe.\\\" He entered the house before the great sigh, and the loud\\nmurmurs of satisfaction, had died out.\\n\\n'There's no doubt his mind was made up that Brown should have his way\\nclear back to the sea. His fate, revolted, was forcing his hand. He\\nhad for the first time to affirm his will in the face of\",\n \"nothing else for it now--if\\nJim cared a pin for his life. What's eighty dollars? A trifle. An\\ninsignificant sum. While he, Cornelius, who had to remain behind, was\\nabsolutely courting death by this proof of devotion to Mr. Stein's young\\nfriend. The sight of his abject grimacing was--Jim told me--very hard\\nto bear: he clutched at his hair, beat his breast, rocked himself to\\nand fro with his hands pressed to his stomach, and actually pretended to\\ns\",\n \"each taking\\na little of your substance, each carrying away some crumb of that belief\\nin a few simple notions you must cling to if you want to live decently\\nand would like to die easy!\\n\\n'This has nothing to do with Jim, directly; only he was outwardly so\\ntypical of that good, stupid kind we like to feel marching right and\\nleft of us in life, of the kind that is not disturbed by the vagaries of\\nintelligence and the perversions of--of nerves, let us say. He was the\\nkind of fellow you would,\",\n \"gaping disfigured, with his hands open before him gropingly, as\\nthough blinded, and landed with terrific violence on his forehead, just\\nshort of Jim's bare toes. Jim says he didn't lose the smallest detail\\nof all this. He found himself calm, appeased, without rancour, without\\nuneasiness, as if the death of that man had atoned for everything. The\\nplace was getting very full of sooty smoke from the torch, in which\\nthe unswaying flame burned blood-red without a flicker. He walked in\\nresolutely\",\n \"power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and\\nadmired as he was, he was still one of _them_, while Jim was one of\\nus. Moreover, the white man, a tower of strength in himself, was\\ninvulnerable, while Dain Waris could be killed. Those unexpressed\\nthoughts guided the opinions of the chief men of the town, who elected\\nto assemble in Jim's fort for deliberation upon the emergency, as if\\nexpecting\",\n \"Suppose they say one\\nthing to you, and do the other thing to me.\\\" He calmed down markedly. \\\"I\\ndare say you have the power, or what's the meaning of all this talk?\\\" he\\ncontinued. \\\"What did you come down here for? To pass the time of day?\\\"\\n\\n'\\\"Very well,\\\" said Jim, lifting his head suddenly after a long silence.\\n\\\"You shall have a clear road or else a clear fight.\\\" He turned on his\\nheel and walked away.\\n\\n'Brown got up at once, but he did not go up the\",\n \"skippers to take it there) did\\nnot seem to him a fair equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable\\nname. Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cornelius within an\\ninch of his life; on the other hand, the scenes were of so painful\\na character, so abominable, that his impulse would be to get out of\\nearshot, in order to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,\\nspeechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a stony,\\ndesperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and say\",\n \"iness of his soul, that remains even for\\nher who loved him best a cruel and insoluble mystery.\\n\\n'It is evident that he did not mistrust Brown; there was no reason to\\ndoubt the story, whose truth seemed warranted by the rough frankness,\\nby a sort of virile sincerity in accepting the morality and the\\nconsequences of his acts. But Jim did not know the almost inconceivable\\negotism of the man which made him, when resisted and foiled in his will,\\nmad with the indignant and revengeful\",\n \"making two deep folds down his\\nsallow, leathery cheeks. He prided himself on being a dead shot. He\\ndropped on one knee, and taking aim from a steady rest through the\\nunlopped branches of a felled tree, fired, and at once stood up to look.\\nThe man, far away, turned his head to the report, made another step\\nforward, seemed to hesitate, and abruptly got down on his hands and\\nknees. In the silence that fell upon the sharp crack of the rifle, the\\ndead shot, keeping his eyes fixed upon the qu\",\n \"\\\"No!\\\" shouted Jim in\\na passion. \\\"I have not, and I don't intend to. I am going to live here,\\nin Patusan.\\\" \\\"You shall d-d-die h-h-here,\\\" answered Cornelius,\\nstill shaking violently, and in a sort of expiring voice. The whole\\nperformance was so absurd and provoking that Jim didn't know whether he\\nought to be amused or angry. \\\"Not till I have seen you tucked away,\\nyou bet,\\\" he called out, exasperated yet ready to laugh. Half seriously\\n\",\n \"shall see what a fool he is.\\\" Brown was incredulous. \\\"You\\nshall see; you shall see,\\\" repeated Cornelius. \\\"He is not afraid--not\\nafraid of anything. He will come and order you to leave his people\\nalone. Everybody must leave his people alone. He is like a little child.\\nHe will come to you straight.\\\" Alas! he knew Jim well--that \\\"mean little\\nskunk,\\\" as Brown called him to me. \\\"Yes, certainly,\\\" he pursued with\\nardour, \\\"and then, captain, you tell that tall man with a gun to\"\n ],\n [\n \"of hate and rage\\nagainst those people who dared to defend themselves. Two of his men\\nhad been wounded, and he saw his retreat cut off below the town by some\\nboats that had put off from Tunku Allang's stockade. There were six of\\nthem, full of men. While he was thus beset he perceived the entrance of\\nthe narrow creek (the same which Jim had jumped at low water). It was\\nthen brim full. Steering the long-boat in, they landed, and, to make a\\nlong story short, they established themselves on a\",\n \"fights, of the sudden\\noutbreaks that would fill this or that part of the settlement with\\nsmoke, flame, the noise of shots and shrieks. Villages were burnt, men\\nwere dragged into the Rajah's stockade to be killed or tortured for the\\ncrime of trading with anybody else but himself. Only a day or two before\\nJim's arrival several heads of households in the very fishing village\\nthat was afterwards taken under his especial protection had been driven\\nover the cliffs by a party of the Rajah's spearmen, on suspicion of\\nh\",\n \"She offered him Jim's own\\nmen in her anxiety to have these intruders driven out at once. He only\\nshook his head, after a glance or two at Doramin. Finally, when the\\ncouncil broke up it had been decided that the houses nearest the creek\\nshould be strongly occupied to obtain the command of the enemy's boat.\\nThe boat itself was not to be interfered with openly, so that the\\nrobbers on the hill should be tempted to embark, when a well-directed\\nfire would kill most of them, no doubt. To cut\",\n \"way giving him the slightest chance of attaining\\nhis ends--he argued in a fit of coughing. But he didn't tell Jim this.\\nAs to the hardships and starvation they had gone through, these had been\\nvery real; it was enough to look at his band. He made, at the sound of a\\nshrill whistle, all his men appear standing in a row on the logs in full\\nview, so that Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war\",\n \"'s return.\\nJim had been away in the interior for more than a week, and it was Dain\\nWaris who had directed the first repulse. That brave and intelligent\\nyouth (\\\"who knew how to fight after the manner of white men\\\") wished to\\nsettle the business off-hand, but his people were too much for him.\\nHe had not Jim's racial prestige and the reputation of invincible,\\nsupernatural power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and\",\n \"methodical ferocity of his fighting. The storming party had come on so\\nquick--Jim said--that notwithstanding the panic of the garrison, there\\nwas a \\\"hot five minutes hand-to-hand inside that stockade, till some\\nbally ass set fire to the shelters of boughs and dry grass, and we all\\nhad to clear out for dear life.\\\"\\n\\n'The rout, it seems, had been complete. Doramin, waiting immovably in\\nhis chair on the hillside, with the smoke of the guns spreading slowly\\nabove his big head\",\n \"ance, or to repulse a threatened invasion? Many\\ndays elapsed before the people had ceased to look out, quaking, for\\nthe return of the white men with long beards and in rags, whose exact\\nrelation to their own white man they could never understand. Even for\\nthose simple minds poor Jim remains under a cloud.\\n\\n'Doramin, alone! immense and desolate, sat in his arm-chair with the\\npair of flintlock pistols on his knees, faced by a armed throng. When\\nJim appeared, at somebody's exclamation,\",\n \"the night. Doramin, struggling to\\nkeep his feet, made with his two supporters a swaying, tottering group;\\nhis little eyes stared with an expression of mad pain, of rage, with\\na ferocious glitter, which the bystanders noticed; and then, while Jim\\nstood stiffened and with bared head in the light of torches, looking him\\nstraight in the face, he clung heavily with his left arm round the neck\\nof a bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his son's\\nfriend through the chest.\\n\\n'The crowd\",\n \"for a talk.\\nTamb' Itam himself hoped there would be some fighting. \\\"What was it but\\nthe taking of another hill?\\\" he exclaimed regretfully. However, in the\\ntown many hoped that the rapacious strangers would be induced, by the\\nsight of so many brave men making ready to fight, to go away. It would\\nbe a good thing if they went away. Since Jim's arrival had been made\\nknown before daylight by the gun fired from the fort and the beating of\\nthe big drum there, the fear that had hung over Patusan had broken and\\nsub\",\n \"power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and\\nadmired as he was, he was still one of _them_, while Jim was one of\\nus. Moreover, the white man, a tower of strength in himself, was\\ninvulnerable, while Dain Waris could be killed. Those unexpressed\\nthoughts guided the opinions of the chief men of the town, who elected\\nto assemble in Jim's fort for deliberation upon the emergency, as if\\nexpecting\",\n \"w chilling his very bones; how afraid he was he\\nwould begin to shiver and shake like a leaf before the time came for\\nthe advance. \\\"It was the slowest half-hour in my life,\\\" he declared.\\nGradually the silent stockade came out on the sky above him. Men\\nscattered all down the slope were crouching amongst the dark stones and\\ndripping bushes. Dain Waris was lying flattened by his side. \\\"We\\nlooked at each other,\\\" Jim said, resting a gentle hand on his friend's\\nshoulder. \\\"He smiled\",\n \", I believe, on\\npurely religious grounds, had incited the tribes in the interior (the\\nbush-folk, as Jim himself called them) to rise, and had established\\nhimself in a fortified camp on the summit of one of the twin hills. He\\nhung over the town of Patusan like a hawk over a poultry-yard, but he\\ndevastated the open country. Whole villages, deserted, rotted on their\\nblackened posts over the banks of clear streams, dropping piecemeal into\\nthe water the grass of their walls, the leaves\",\n \"the white robbers were coming down to their\\nboat. In a very short time every armed man from one end of Patusan\\nto the other was on the alert, yet the banks of the river remained so\\nsilent that but for the fires burning with sudden blurred flares the\\ntown might have been asleep as if in peace-time. A heavy mist lay very\\nlow on the water, making a sort of illusive grey light that showed\\nnothing. When Brown's long-boat glided out of the creek into the\\nriver, Jim was standing on the low point of land before\",\n \", and the other\\nburst into an amazing noise of yells, war-cries, shouts of anger, of\\nsurprise, of dismay. Jim and Dain Waris were the first to lay their\\nhands on the stakes. The popular story has it that Jim with a touch\\nof one finger had thrown down the gate. He was, of course, anxious\\nto disclaim this achievement. The whole stockade--he would insist on\\nexplaining to you--was a poor affair (Sherif Ali trusted mainly to the\\ninaccessible position); and, anyway, the thing\",\n \"on the hillside like ants at work. He himself on\\nthat night had kept on rushing down and climbing up like a squirrel,\\ndirecting, encouraging, watching all along the line. Old Doramin had\\nhimself carried up the hill in his arm-chair. They put him down on the\\nlevel place upon the slope, and he sat there in the light of one of the\\nbig fires--\\\"amazing old chap--real old chieftain,\\\" said Jim, \\\"with his\\nlittle fierce eyes--a pair of immense flintlock pistols on his knees.\\nMagn\",\n \"for some other\\ngrave--struggled in his breast. From the outline the figure presented\\nit seemed to him that the white man there, backed up by all the power of\\nthe land, was examining his position through binoculars. Brown jumped up\\non the log, throwing his arms up, the palms outwards. The coloured group\\nclosed round the white man, and fell back twice before he got clear of\\nthem, walking slowly alone. Brown remained standing on the log till\\nJim, appearing and disappearing between the patches of thorny scrub, had\\nnearly\",\n \"advancing with alacrity. He did not know what\\nhis master meant, but as soon as Jim made a movement the girl started\\ntoo and walked down into the open space. It seems that no one else of\\nthe people of the house was in sight. She tottered slightly, and about\\nhalf-way down called out to Jim, who had apparently resumed his peaceful\\ncontemplation of the river. He turned round, setting his back against\\nthe gun. \\\"Will you fight?\\\" she cried. \\\"There is nothing to fight for,\\\"\\nhe said; \\\"nothing is lost.\\\" Saying\",\n \"first who withdraws his\\narm or turns his head is a dead man,\\\" he said. \\\"March!\\\" They stepped out\\ntogether, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing\\nwhite gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light.\\nErect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the\\nonly sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. \\\"Stop!\\\"\\ncried Jim.\\n\\n'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on\",\n \"shall see what a fool he is.\\\" Brown was incredulous. \\\"You\\nshall see; you shall see,\\\" repeated Cornelius. \\\"He is not afraid--not\\nafraid of anything. He will come and order you to leave his people\\nalone. Everybody must leave his people alone. He is like a little child.\\nHe will come to you straight.\\\" Alas! he knew Jim well--that \\\"mean little\\nskunk,\\\" as Brown called him to me. \\\"Yes, certainly,\\\" he pursued with\\nardour, \\\"and then, captain, you tell that tall man with a gun to\",\n \"Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war--in a corner?\\nand the fellow had been killed cleanly, shot through the chest, not like\\nthat poor devil of his lying now in the creek. They had to listen to him\\ndying for six hours, with his entrails torn with slugs. At any rate this\\nwas a life for a life. . . . And all this was said with the weariness,\\nwith the recklessness of a man spurred on and\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["Why does Jim lose his naval command certificate?","Who does Jim meet at the trail that helps him?","Why does Jim quit the job Charles finds him?","Where does Marlow's friend Stein suggest Jim go?","Who is Jewel?","What happens when the village is attacked by \"Gentleman\" Brown?","What happens when Jim returns to the Burgis Leader, Doramin?","Why was Jim executed?","Where was the Patna traveling to at the beginning of the story?","How many members of the crew, including Jim, have to face trial for derilection of duty?","Who suggests that Jim should be placed in Patusan?","Where does Jim earn the title of 'Tuan'?","Who leads the bandit group raid that results in the death of Dain Waris?","Where does Jim first meet Charles Marlow?","Why does Jim, the captain, and the crew desert the Patna and it's passengers?","Who was the corrupt Malay chief that Jim protects the villagers from?","Who is the mixed race woman Jim falls in love with?","Who shoots the bullet that kills Lord Jim?","What ship does Jim become first mate on?","After Jim, captain, and a few other crew members abandon the ship, who picks them up?","In court, what was Jim stripe of?","Who found Jim a job as ship chandler's clerk?","Where does Stein suggest placing Jim where his past can be hidden?","What is Patusan?","What title does Jim acquire on the island? ","Who does Jim win the love of?","Why does Jim take a bullet in the chest?","Who attacks Jim and his people?"],"string":"[\n \"Why does Jim lose his naval command certificate?\",\n \"Who does Jim meet at the trail that helps him?\",\n \"Why does Jim quit the job Charles finds him?\",\n \"Where does Marlow's friend Stein suggest Jim go?\",\n \"Who is Jewel?\",\n \"What happens when the village is attacked by \\\"Gentleman\\\" Brown?\",\n \"What happens when Jim returns to the Burgis Leader, Doramin?\",\n \"Why was Jim executed?\",\n \"Where was the Patna traveling to at the beginning of the story?\",\n \"How many members of the crew, including Jim, have to face trial for derilection of duty?\",\n \"Who suggests that Jim should be placed in Patusan?\",\n \"Where does Jim earn the title of 'Tuan'?\",\n \"Who leads the bandit group raid that results in the death of Dain Waris?\",\n \"Where does Jim first meet Charles Marlow?\",\n \"Why does Jim, the captain, and the crew desert the Patna and it's passengers?\",\n \"Who was the corrupt Malay chief that Jim protects the villagers from?\",\n \"Who is the mixed race woman Jim falls in love with?\",\n \"Who shoots the bullet that kills Lord Jim?\",\n \"What ship does Jim become first mate on?\",\n \"After Jim, captain, and a few other crew members abandon the ship, who picks them up?\",\n \"In court, what was Jim stripe of?\",\n \"Who found Jim a job as ship chandler's clerk?\",\n \"Where does Stein suggest placing Jim where his past can be hidden?\",\n \"What is Patusan?\",\n \"What title does Jim acquire on the island? \",\n \"Who does Jim win the love of?\",\n \"Why does Jim take a bullet in the chest?\",\n \"Who attacks Jim and his people?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["He joined the captain and the rest of the crew and jumped ship leaving a ship full of passengers during a storm","He abandoned his duties. "],["Charles Marlow, a ship captain who becomes friends with Jim and helps find him a job","Charles Marlow."],["His past aboard the Patna catches up to him","His past keeps catching up with him. "],["Patusan, an isolated island village, where his past won't matter","Patusan."],["A mixed race woman who Jim falls in love with","Jim's love."],["Dain Waris, the Burgis leader's son, is killed although Brown and his soldiers are defeated","His gang was driven off but the son of the leader of the Bugis community is slain."],["He is fatally shot in the chest","He is shot and killed."],["in retribution for the death of Dain","He sacrificed himself as retribution for the death of the Bugis leader's son."],["Mecca","To Mecca."],["None, he is the only one put on trial.","Only Jim."],["Stein","Stein."],["Patusan","Patusan"],["Gentleman Brown","Gentleman Brown"],["At his trial.","The trial"],["The ship was taking on water quickly and they thought it was going down.","Ship is sinking."],["Rajah Tunku Allang","Rajah Tunku Allang."],["Jewel","Jewel."],["Doramin","Doramin"],["Patna","Patna"],["a French ship","French ship."],["navigation command certificate ","navigation command certificate"],["Charles Marlow","Charles Marlow"],["Patusan","Patusan"],["remote island","a remote island settlement"],["'Tuan' Lord ","Tuan."],["Jewel ","Jewel"],["retribution for the death of Bugis's son.","As retribution for the death of his son."],["'Gentlemen' Brown ","Gentleman Brown"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"He joined the captain and the rest of the crew and jumped ship leaving a ship full of passengers during a storm\",\n \"He abandoned his duties. \"\n ],\n [\n \"Charles Marlow, a ship captain who becomes friends with Jim and helps find him a job\",\n \"Charles Marlow.\"\n ],\n [\n \"His past aboard the Patna catches up to him\",\n \"His past keeps catching up with him. \"\n ],\n [\n \"Patusan, an isolated island village, where his past won't matter\",\n \"Patusan.\"\n ],\n [\n \"A mixed race woman who Jim falls in love with\",\n \"Jim's love.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Dain Waris, the Burgis leader's son, is killed although Brown and his soldiers are defeated\",\n \"His gang was driven off but the son of the leader of the Bugis community is slain.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He is fatally shot in the chest\",\n \"He is shot and killed.\"\n ],\n [\n \"in retribution for the death of Dain\",\n \"He sacrificed himself as retribution for the death of the Bugis leader's son.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Mecca\",\n \"To Mecca.\"\n ],\n [\n \"None, he is the only one put on trial.\",\n \"Only Jim.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Stein\",\n \"Stein.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Patusan\",\n \"Patusan\"\n ],\n [\n \"Gentleman Brown\",\n \"Gentleman Brown\"\n ],\n [\n \"At his trial.\",\n \"The trial\"\n ],\n [\n \"The ship was taking on water quickly and they thought it was going down.\",\n \"Ship is sinking.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Rajah Tunku Allang\",\n \"Rajah Tunku Allang.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Jewel\",\n \"Jewel.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Doramin\",\n \"Doramin\"\n ],\n [\n \"Patna\",\n \"Patna\"\n ],\n [\n \"a French ship\",\n \"French ship.\"\n ],\n [\n \"navigation command certificate \",\n \"navigation command certificate\"\n ],\n [\n \"Charles Marlow\",\n \"Charles Marlow\"\n ],\n [\n \"Patusan\",\n \"Patusan\"\n ],\n [\n \"remote island\",\n \"a remote island settlement\"\n ],\n [\n \"'Tuan' Lord \",\n \"Tuan.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Jewel \",\n \"Jewel\"\n ],\n [\n \"retribution for the death of Bugis's son.\",\n \"As retribution for the death of his son.\"\n ],\n [\n \"'Gentlemen' Brown \",\n \"Gentleman Brown\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"9e82564a36eb80df18284bc5566221a05e87c28b"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":23,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\n Django is free.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.","lock on the\n cage door.\n He looks at the three men, especially Rodney, then says;\n\n DJANGO\n Throw up that dynamite.\n Rodney grabs a saddle bag full of dynamite and tosses it to Django on\n his Horse.\n Django wraps it around the Horse's neck, turns the beast around, and\n without saying another word, rides back in the direction of Candyland.\n The Three NOW FREE Mandingos, watch him ride away.\n \"Who was that nigger?\"","Z\n Django.\n\n SPENCER\n Betina sugar, take Django around the\n grounds. Show 'em all the pretty stuff.\n\n BETINA\n As you please, Big Daddy.\n Dr.Schultz lowers his voice, and says to the plantation owner;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Mr. Bennett, I must remind, you, Django is a\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\n treated as an extension","GO\n Sure.\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\n\n SCHULTZ SAYS;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n So your plan is to trackdowri your wife, and\n purchase her.freedom? Only you don't know\n where she is?\n A chewing Django nods his head, yes.\n Dr.Schultz, takes a big bite of jerky, chews for a \"moment contemplating\n the d","a\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\n treated as an extension of myself.\n\n SPENCER\n Understood., Schultz. Betina?\n\n BETINA\n Yes, sir?\n\n SPENCER\n Django isn't a slave. Django is a free\n man. Do you understand? You're not to treat\n him like any of these other niggers around\n here, cause he ain't like any of these","\n I\"\n\n DJANGO\n How long you been here?\n\n JANO\n 'bout two years.\n\n DJANGO\n And you ain't paid him back yet?\n\n JANO\n\n (DEFENSIVELY)\n No, not yet!\n\n DJANGO\n\n (LAUGHS)\n You a slave too, peckawood. They just bought\n your ass for the price of a boat ride.\n At least they didn","and he puts a\n fire breathing dragon there to guard the mountain.\n And. then he surrounds her in circle of hellfire.\n And there Broomhilda shall remain, unless a hero\n arises brave enough to save her.\n\n DJANGO\n Does a fella arise?\n From now on as Dr.Schultz talks, he's beginning to realize something he\n wasn't aware of when the conversation started.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\n named","ANGO\n No he won't.\n All eyes turn to Django.\n\n DJANGO\n He's just tired'of you toyin' with him is\n all. And for that matter, so am I. But we\n ain't payin' a penny for that pickaninny,\n we ain't got no use for 'em. Ain't that\n right, Doc?\n Dr.Schultz realizes he's just done the one thing he's always preached\n to Django you","\n You will?\n Removing his long brown leather billfold from his suit jacket pocket.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n You'll pay five hundred dollars for a\n one eyed Ole'Joe, ain't fit to push a\n broom?\n Django's voice cuts through the Mississippi heat.\n\n DJANGO\n No he won't.\n All eyes turn to Django.\n\n DJANGO\n He's just","As the sun continues to beat down on Django's head, he remembers;\n\n DJANGO in the SLAVE PEN\n with what seems like a one hundred and fifty Slaves in a cell designed\n for forty.\n\n WHITE MEN yank him out. of the cell, shirtless, shoeless, and lead him\n down a hallway, into a giant round pen, an audience viewing area\n circles the round pen floor on three different stories of the\n structure.\n\n The ground floor is covered by the BIG MONEY BU","CHULTZ\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\n seventy five dollars in your back pocket.\n What's your plan after that?\n\n DJANGO\n Find my wife, and buy her freedom.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Django, I had no idea you were a married man.\n Do most slaves take the institution of\n matrimony seriously?\n\n DJANGO\n Huh?\n\n \n\n ","handkerchief on her head, and\n him in his satin baby blue Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit, are quite\n the pair. She eyeballs him disapprovingly up and down.\n\n BETINA\n What'cha do for your massa'?\n\n DJANGO\n Didn't you hear him tell ya, I ain't no slave.\n\n BETINA\n So you really free?\n\n DJANGO\n Yes.\n\n \n\n \n\n ","\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\n\n DJANGO\n Here's your bill of sale, and freedom papers.\n No matter what happens to me, hold on to these\n and get out of the south.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n What's gonna happen to you?\n\n DJANGO\n Ain't nuttin' gonna happen to me honey,\n I'm just sayin'. Now go to the stable, little\n Timmy's","done anything for Django, just to him. So\n understandably, he's a little suspicious.\n\n DJANGO\n Why you care what happens to me? Why you\n care if I find my wife?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well frankly, I've never given anybody\n their freedom before. And now that I have,\n I feel vaguely responsible for you. You're\n just not ready to go off on your own, it's\n that simple. You're too green, you'll get hurt","earn it.\n\n JANO\n If you got something to say, say it.\n\n DJANGO\n The eleven thousand five hundred dollar fortune\n waiting for you back at Candyland, is in the\n form of a wanted dead or alive bounty on\n Smitty Bacall and the Smitty Bacall Gang.\n\n JANO\n Who the fuck is Smitty Bacall?\n\n DJANGO\n Smitty Bacall is the leader of a murdering\n gang of stageco"," You a slave too, peckawood. They just bought\n your ass for the price of a boat ride.\n At least they didn't charge us for our boat\n ride ... . ha ha ha ha...\n\n JANO\n\n (YELLING)\n You shut up!\n Jano's hand grabs his riding crop, and he brings it up to strike\n Django, when the black man says to him;\n\n DJANGO\n How'd you like to make eleven thousand\n dollars?\n\n"," DJANGO\n I dunno. They put us in different boxcars,\n and sent U.S to The Greenville Slave Auction.\n She got sold two days 'fore me.\n But I don't know who to.\n Dr.Schultz takes out a long stick of beef jerky.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Care for some jerky?\n\n DJANGO\n Sure.\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\n","wrapped around his waist.\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine company beast,\n and climbs aboard him bareback.\n He leans over and snatches the RIFLE that Floyd kept on the wagon seat\n next to him.\n Grabbing a fistful of the horses mane, he digs his heels into the\n beast's side. The pack animals SPRINGS TO LIFE under the new rider. By\n now it should be apparent that Django brings"," - in particularly a field nigger -_is sixty\n to eighty dollars. Now handsome no doubt as\n Django is, technically, he is a field. nigger.\n Which according to\"this pamphlet here - and\n why would they lie - puts his price at\n eighty dollars. So in light of that, how\n bout a hundred and twenty five dollars for\n young Django here.\n Dr.Schultz removes his long billfold from his pocket, and takes out a\n one hundred dollar bill, two tens and a fiver","\n JANO\n Who?\n\n DJANGO\n LeQuint Dickey?\n\n JANO\n You gotta few more things to worry about\n black boy, then what I get paid.\n\n DJANGO\n I ain't worried about it. I'm just curious.\n I mean, I'm the property of The LeQuint Dickey\n Mining Company, ain't I?\n\n JANO\n Yeah.\n\n DJANGO\n And you"],[" I can point 'em out.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Sold American! So Mr.Speck, how much for\n Django?\n\n DICKY SPECK\n I'm gonna lose this leg!\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes, unless you find a talented physician\n very quickly, I'm afraid that will be the.\n end result. But back to business, how much\n do you want for Django?\n\n DICKY SPECK\n You go to hell!\n Dr.S","how much\n do you want for Django?\n\n DICKY SPECK\n You go to hell!\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Don't be silly. How much for Django?\n\n DICKY SPECK\n 800 dollars!\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Oh come now, I may not have the experience in\n the slave trade that you and your family does,\n but neither was I born yesterday.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 8","He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\n Django is free.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.","Fritz, does a little bow with his head, a neat trick the doctor taught\n him.\n\n DICKY SPECK\n You a doctor?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Affirmative.\n\n DICKY SPECK\n What kinda doctor?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Dentist. Are you The Speck Brothers, and did you\n purchase those men at The Greenville.Slave Auction?\n\n ACE SPECK\n So what?\n\n \n\n \n\n ","on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\n Dicky lets out a bitch like scream.\n The Slaves watch all this. They've never seen a white man kill another\n white man before.\n Dicky is pinned down under his ole paint.\n Django watches in the dark, the German climb down off his horse,\n pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Sorry about","(to the shivering Slaves)\n Good evening-I'm looking for a pair of\n slave traders that go by the'name of\n The Speck Brothers. Might that be you?\n\n ACE SPECK\n Who wants to. know?\n\n THE RIDER\n I do. I'm Dr. King Schultz, and this\n is my horse, Fritz.\n Fritz, does a little bow with his head, a neat trick the doctor taught\n him.\n\n DICKY SPECK\n ",".Speck, I am afraid I will require a\n bill of sale. Do you have one?\n Dicky just curses him.\n He says, removing a notebook from his pocket;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I thought not. No worries, I come prepared.\n (as he writes)\n This will serve nicely as a bill of sale.\n (he stops, then\n says to Django)\n Django is spelled with a silent \"D\",\n is it not?\n\n \n\n \n\n ","up on that horse.\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.\n Django removes the coat from the dead slaver. Puts on the warm jacket\n over his bare back, and climbs up on Ace Specks horse.\n Dr.Schultz turns to Dicky on the ground.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Mr.Speck, I am afraid I will require a\n bill of sale. Do you have one?\n Dicky just curses him.\n","to get\n his attention, we better be talking about\n big sweaty black males. So my character is\n that of a big money buyer from Dusseldorf, here\n in Greenville to buy my way into the mandingo\n fight game. And your character is the mandingo\n expert I hired to help me do it.\n\n DJANGO\n They call that \"One-Eyed Charly.\"\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\n One-Eyed Charly?\n\n DJANGO\n That's what","\n Now Django reacts, \"How did he know that?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, how did you know? She wasn't born on\n The Carrucan Plantation. She was raised by\n a German mistress, The Von Shafts. She can\n speak a little German too.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Your wife?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, when she was little her mistress taught\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n","ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives","Ring Schultz, and\n Django Freeman, they're big customers with\n big pockets wanna buy a big nigger. So I\n brought 'em out here so you could give\n 'em a little display of our African flesh.\n Ace takes off his hat, bows from his horse, welcoming them.\n\n ACE WOODY\n Welcome to Candyland, gentlemen.\n Astride their horses Brown and Jingle Bells Cody just make faces at\n Django.\n Ace's attention goes to"," DJANGO\n I dunno. They put us in different boxcars,\n and sent U.S to The Greenville Slave Auction.\n She got sold two days 'fore me.\n But I don't know who to.\n Dr.Schultz takes out a long stick of beef jerky.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Care for some jerky?\n\n DJANGO\n Sure.\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\n","Z\n Yes it is.\n\n DJANGO\n No it ain't, it's your horse. I'm just riding\n it.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well, technically, yes - Wait a minute -\n technically not. If it's my horse, I can\n give it to you, and as of now, I'm doing such.\n Django, you're now the proud owner of a horse,\n congratulations.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n","Z\n Django.\n\n SPENCER\n Betina sugar, take Django around the\n grounds. Show 'em all the pretty stuff.\n\n BETINA\n As you please, Big Daddy.\n Dr.Schultz lowers his voice, and says to the plantation owner;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Mr. Bennett, I must remind, you, Django is a\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\n treated as an extension","\n You will?\n Removing his long brown leather billfold from his suit jacket pocket.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n You'll pay five hundred dollars for a\n one eyed Ole'Joe, ain't fit to push a\n broom?\n Django's voice cuts through the Mississippi heat.\n\n DJANGO\n No he won't.\n All eyes turn to Django.\n\n DJANGO\n He's just"," - in particularly a field nigger -_is sixty\n to eighty dollars. Now handsome no doubt as\n Django is, technically, he is a field. nigger.\n Which according to\"this pamphlet here - and\n why would they lie - puts his price at\n eighty dollars. So in light of that, how\n bout a hundred and twenty five dollars for\n young Django here.\n Dr.Schultz removes his long billfold from his pocket, and takes out a\n one hundred dollar bill, two tens and a fiver","a\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\n treated as an extension of myself.\n\n SPENCER\n Understood., Schultz. Betina?\n\n BETINA\n Yes, sir?\n\n SPENCER\n Django isn't a slave. Django is a free\n man. Do you understand? You're not to treat\n him like any of these other niggers around\n here, cause he ain't like any of these","drinks. They both take a\n sip. Schultz hates it, Django loves it.\n Candle turns his attention to Django.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What's your name, boy?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n His name is Django.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO SCHULTZ)\n Where'd ya dig him up?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n A fortuitous turn of events brought\n Django and myself together.","pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Sorry about putting a bullet in your beast.\n But I didn't want you to do anything rash\n before you had a moment to come to your senses.\n Dr.Sch.ultz LIGHTS the lantern, illuminating himself, as he stands over\n Dicky's body.\n\n DICKY SPECK\n You goddamn son of a bitch, you killed Ace!\n Dr.S"],["CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n falls to the floor.\n Everybody is stunned.\n Schultz looks to Django.\n Django looks back.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (TO DJANGO)\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room","ultz considers'Calvin Candie's words, then suddenly says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n You know Monsieur Candie... . you do possess\n the power of persuasion.\n Candie smiles at that remark.\n Then SUDDENLY Schultz SLAPS the table hard with his hand, and says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Why not! Monsieur Candie, you have a deal,\n Eskimo Joe, twelve thousand dollars!\n The White people at the table get very happy.\n Dr.Sch","you are a\n neophyte. I'm simply trying to ascertain\n if this cowboy is taking advantage of you.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n With all due respect, Monsieur Candie, I\n didn't seek you out for your advice. I\n sought you out to purchase a fighting\n nigger at above top dollar market price.\n I was'under the impression when you\n granted me an audience, it would be to\n discuss business.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n No we weren't","\n Django goes to stop him...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1 714\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\n\n POP!\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n ","CANDIE\n Quit stalling and answer the question.\n The room is quiet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n The awful truth?\n\n (PAUSE)\n I'm bored, and it seems like a good\n bit of fun.\n Candie takes that to heart. He'll accept it for now.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Well come on over, cause we gotta us a fight\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get","think so.\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Let's go.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\n before this German shakes my hand.\n Cut 'er down.\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ","\n\n 1 30\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n We got it, let's go.\n\n (TO CANDIE)\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\n actually means is, till I see you again,\n and since I never wish to see you again,\n to","a whole lotta trouble,\n and done spread a whole lotta bull, to\n purchase the lovely lady to my left, it would\n appear that Broomhilda is, \"The Right Nigger.\"\n And if y'all wanna leave Candyland with\n Broomhilda, the price is twelve thousand dollars.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I take it you prefer the take it or leave\n it style of negotiating.\n Candie continuing to hold the hammer continues.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Under the laws","\n \n\n IN\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n And if you think my price for this nigger\n is too steep, what I'm gonna desire to do\n is, take this hammer and beat her ass to\n death with it. Right in front of both y'all.\n He SMASHES the arm rest of the chair Broomhilda's sitting in.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Put up or shut up, Schultz. You wanna save\n this nigger bitch,","ason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\n to know how much you want 'er. So instead,\n you waste my time with all this Eskimo Joe\n horseshit.\n\n (TO STEPHEN)\n Stephen, put her in that chair.\n Stephen sits the young lady down in Moguy's old chair.\n With their palms against the table, unarmed, Django and Schultz\n silently watch Candie's","E\n\n (TO SCHULTZ)\n You spend a lot of time around niggers\n aside from Freeman here?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Not so much.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Well if'in you did,.you'd know what a\n treat this was for 'em. You feel special\n Coco?\n\n COCO\n Yes. sir, Monsieur Candie.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n You feel special Bartholomew?\n","...\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\n Django, who expected nothing less and has seen worse, doesn't blink as\n the runaway slave is torn to bits by canine teeth ...\n The other Mandingos are scared sick at what they see.\n The Hillbilly Trackers root the dogs on.\n Dr.Schultz has never seen a man torn apart by dogs before, and he\n appears not to enjoy it.\n Calvin, without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Dr","with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\n You really want me to shake your hand?\n Django gets it.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n I insist.\n\n DR\n -Schultz smiles.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well, if you insist.\n Django goes to stop him...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1 7","instinctively shoots a look to Django.\n Stephen clocks it.\n\n LARA LEE\n Calvin, I just got her all dressed up\n and looking nice.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n But Lara Lee, Dr.Schultz is from Dusseldorf,\n they don't got niggers there. And he's a\n man of medicine. I'm sure it would\n fascinate him, the niggers endurance for\n pain. I mean Hildi got something like\n "," CALVIN CANDIE\n How ya like that meat, Bright Boy?\n Django's eyes go to Calvin, he nods his approval.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO COCO)\n How's your Catfish, dew drop?\n\n COCO\n Real good Monsieur Candie.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO SCHULTZ)\n You spend a lot of time around niggers\n aside from Freeman here?\n","you be a dear and go out there and\n give them gals an eyeball. That of boy\n knows everything to know 'bout mandingos,\n But he don't know diddly 'bout black puddin'.\n Lara Lee excuses herself and leaves the room, as she goes out,\n Bartholomew, with his Sawed Off Shotgun, comes.in behind Schultz and\n Django.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Can I ask you two gentlemen to look over\n your","S\n /-. watch Calvin Candie from up above on the 2nd floor landing.\n FROM Dr.SCHULTZ'S PERSPECTIVE\n We see Calvin Candie, and his black slave.bodyguard, BARTHOLOMEW,\n always dressed in a slightly ill fitting three piece suit and bowler\n hat, among the crowd of buyers at the auction block below.\n Candie's lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he","he's just been massively insulted;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n You don't intend to allow your 2nd...\n (referring to Moguy)\n .to make the proper introductions?\n Without turning towards them, Candie tells Schultz;\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 7S\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Quit stalling and answer the question.\n The room is quiet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n The","\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Stephen, you just interrupted Dr.Schultz.\n\n STEPHEN\n (to Dr.Schultz)\n Oh, I do apologize, doctor. My hearin'\n ain't worth a damn these days.\n\n (TO CANDIE)\n Monsieur Candie, I need a word with you in\n the kitchen.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What, you mean get outta my chair?\n\n STEPHEN\n If","'s old chair.\n With their palms against the table, unarmed, Django and Schultz\n silently watch Candie's next move.\n Candie, still holding the hammer, continues.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Now the way I see it, ain't nothin' changed..\n You still wanna buy a nigger, I still wanna\n sell one. So, with that in mind, in Greenville,\n Dr.Schultz, you yourself said, \"For the Right\n Nigger you'd be"],[", and watches\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\n these two jokers (Django and Schultz) are up to something, and now he's\n just figured it out.\n\n INT - DINNER TABLE (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n You indicated earlier you would be\n willing to part with Hildi?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Yes siree bob I did.\n Dr.SCHULTZ","ieur Candie you've arrived.\n (referring to the\n\n FRENCH MAID)\n Can Coco get either of you two gentlemen\n a tasty refreshment?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Not at the moment.\n\n CLEO\n Then Coco will entertain you while I\n inform Monsieur Candie.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n How charming.\n Cleo leaves.\n Django wanders over the dining room, and peers inside.\n\n INT - DINING"," and sent over to Dr.Schultz's room.\n Stephen has to be the bearer of bad news.\n\n STEPHEN\n Actually... . Monsieur Candie... . there's\n somethin' we ain't tole you yet.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What?\n\n STEPHEN\n Hildi's in The Hot Box.\n This gets Django's, Schultz's, and Candie's attention.\n\n CALVIN CAN","s lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he is the\n owner of Candyland.\n\n DJANGO\n Candyland? The mandingo fightin' place?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Oh, so you heard of it?\n\n DJANGO\n Ain't no slave ain't heard of Candyland.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\n ","- NIGHT\n Later that evening, Django and a lot of other white people (Calvin\n Candie, Lara Lee, Moguy, and Dr.Schultz) sat around the dinner table.\n They are being served by the black people we've come to know at\n Candyland (Stephen, Cora, and because Dr.Schultz likes her Broomhilda).\n Along with an army of DOMESTIC SLAVES acting as wait service.\n Knowing Django's a slaver, and for his dinner table privile","...\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\n Django, who expected nothing less and has seen worse, doesn't blink as\n the runaway slave is torn to bits by canine teeth ...\n The other Mandingos are scared sick at what they see.\n The Hillbilly Trackers root the dogs on.\n Dr.Schultz has never seen a man torn apart by dogs before, and he\n appears not to enjoy it.\n Calvin, without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Dr","CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n falls to the floor.\n Everybody is stunned.\n Schultz looks to Django.\n Django looks back.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (TO DJANGO)\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room","drinks. They both take a\n sip. Schultz hates it, Django loves it.\n Candle turns his attention to Django.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What's your name, boy?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n His name is Django.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO SCHULTZ)\n Where'd ya dig him up?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n A fortuitous turn of events brought\n Django and myself together.","ILDA\n Yes 'em.\n With Candie interrogating Broomhilda, Django tenses up.\n Stephen clocks this.\n Stephen decides to test Django's reaction.\n\n STEPHEN\n You know Monsieur Candle, the doctor might\n be interested in seein' Hildi's \"peeled\"\n back. Seein' as he don't see many niggers\n where he from.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO SCHULTZ)\n When",".\n This gets Django's, Schultz's, and Candie's attention.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What's she doin' there?\n\n STEPHEN\n What 'cha think she doin' in The Hot Box,\n she bein punished.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What she do?\n\n STEPHEN\n She ran away again.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Jesus Christ, how many people ran away\n","think so.\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Let's go.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\n before this German shakes my hand.\n Cut 'er down.\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ"," CALVIN CANDIE\n How ya like that meat, Bright Boy?\n Django's eyes go to Calvin, he nods his approval.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO COCO)\n How's your Catfish, dew drop?\n\n COCO\n Real good Monsieur Candie.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO SCHULTZ)\n You spend a lot of time around niggers\n aside from Freeman here?\n","\n Now Django reacts, \"How did he know that?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, how did you know? She wasn't born on\n The Carrucan Plantation. She was raised by\n a German mistress, The Von Shafts. She can\n speak a little German too.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Your wife?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, when she was little her mistress taught\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n",",with Hildi this\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1ZL\n His eyes to to Broomhilda.\n\n STEPHEN\n You, stay in the kitchen.\n Stephen moves to the kitchen door, swings it open, and watches\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\n these two jokers (D","\n I'm on this property, you my nigger\n Snowball.\n Stephen leaves.\n Django lies down on the bed. He covers his eyes with his arm.\n A door joins Django and Schultz's room. The adjoining door opens, and\n Schultz stands there.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Was that wise?\n Django doesn't remove his arm from.his eyes.\n\n DJANGO\n He ain't tellin' nobody 'bout that.\n That'","S\n /-. watch Calvin Candie from up above on the 2nd floor landing.\n FROM Dr.SCHULTZ'S PERSPECTIVE\n We see Calvin Candie, and his black slave.bodyguard, BARTHOLOMEW,\n always dressed in a slightly ill fitting three piece suit and bowler\n hat, among the crowd of buyers at the auction block below.\n Candie's lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he","with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\n You really want me to shake your hand?\n Django gets it.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n I insist.\n\n DR\n -Schultz smiles.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well, if you insist.\n Django goes to stop him...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1 7","is making Dr.Schultz sick to his stomach.\n Not Django ... . he's seen this little drama play out many times before.\n The three returning mandingos, Rodney, Chicken Charly, and Chester,\n watch their fellow doomed servant pay the price for running away.\n The five new mandingos watch Calvin Candie's treatment of D'Artagnan to\n know what to expect from their new home.\n Bartholomew on the buckboard looks at the captured runaway like, poor\n bastard.\n","\n Django goes to stop him...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1 714\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\n\n POP!\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n ","lower then a black slaver. Black\n slavers are lower then head house niggers, and\n buddy, that's pretty fuckin low.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Then play him that way! Give me your black slaver.\n Django gets that.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Can you do that?\n\n DJANGO\n That, I can do. What's next?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n To get ourselves personally invited to\n Candyland by Calvin Candie himself.\n\n"],[".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\n\n FADE TO BLACK\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\n The C","CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n falls to the floor.\n Everybody is stunned.\n Schultz looks to Django.\n Django looks back.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (TO DJANGO)\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room","ER - POPS into Schultz's hand from a metal sliding\n apparatus concealed under his jacket sleeve. Once in hand, the dentist\n FIRES one tiny bullet into the belly of Bill Sharp.\n The tiny gun makes a tiny POP sound.\n The shocked Bill Sharp lets out a ugly groan, and doubles over in the\n dirt.\n The TOWNSPEOPLE are startled.\n As is Django.\n As Schultz walks down the porch steps, to the fallen sheriff, reloading\n ","\n\n 1 30\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n We got it, let's go.\n\n (TO CANDIE)\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\n actually means is, till I see you again,\n and since I never wish to see you again,\n to",", 8\n\n DOWN BELOW WE SEE\n A LITTLE MAN struggling behind a plow, and his FIFTEEN YEAR OLD SON\n helping him by leading the horse forward.\n On top of their perch on the hill top, Dr.Schultz says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Keep down or he'll see you.\n\n DJANGO\n Who that farmer? Who cares?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well since we came here to kill 'em, he\n ","\n Django goes to stop him...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1 714\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\n\n POP!\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n ","on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\n Dicky lets out a bitch like scream.\n The Slaves watch all this. They've never seen a white man kill another\n white man before.\n Dicky is pinned down under his ole paint.\n Django watches in the dark, the German climb down off his horse,\n pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Sorry about","brother off his horse, dead in the dirt.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n Before Dicky can maneuver either his rifle or his horse in the Germans\n direction...\n\n BAM...\n Dr.SCHULTZ SHOOTS his HORSE in the head...\n .The Steed goes down taking Dicky with him...\n When the dead weight horse lands on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\n Dicky lets","think so.\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Let's go.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\n before this German shakes my hand.\n Cut 'er down.\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ",", is a understatement.\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Who are they?\n\n DJANGO\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\n little brother Raj.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Where's Ellis?\n\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Br","SCHULTZ\n Yes, that does add a little character.\n The German dentist lowers himself by the Speck brother pinned down\n under his horse, and hands him the notebook and pen.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n If you'd be so kind Speck, as to make your\n mark here.\n The. Hillbilly spits in the German gentleman's face. The good doctor\n wipes his face with a handkerchief. Then takes out a pocket knife.\n And whispers something that can't be heard in","\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Brittle riding his horse full out through the cotton field trying\n to make an escape.\n\n SCHULTZ'S WINCHESTER\n goes to his eye, he follows the rider with his rifle barrel.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Are you sure that's him?\n Ellis gets further away...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n DJ","'.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Just fire into the smoke.\n The two treetop killers let loose with rifle fire.\n\n INSIDE OF THE SMOKE\n pandemonium reigns. Horses and Men trip over bodies and pieces of\n bodies, of horses and men. Men with legs and arms blown off, yell\n bloody murder, hurt and scared Horses cry. Some struggle to get the\n sacks off their heads, while scared horses dance and buck in panic.\n Some are shot by the rifle fire. The rest","\n Who that farmer? Who cares?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well since we came here to kill 'em, he\n just might.\n\n DJANGO\n What? The little man pushin' that plow?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n That little man pushing that plow, is Smitty Bacall.\n\n DJANGO\n Smitty Bacall is a farmer?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n No. Smitty Bacall is a stagecoach robber\n who's","bs back up on Fritz, and looks to the six Slaves, in\n leg irons.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Now as to you poor devils.\n He tosses to Pudgy Ralph the keys to the shackles.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n So as I.see it, when it comes to the subject\n of what to do next, you gentlemen have two\n choices. One, once I'm gone, you lift that\n beast off the remaining Speck, then carry him\n to the nearest town.","killed him\n - At which point, the authorities pay me\n the bounty.\n (lifting his beer)\n Cheers.\n The two men touch glasses, and take a drink.\n\n DJANGO\n What's a bounty?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n It's like a reward.\n\n DJANGO\n You kill people and they give you a reward?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Certain people, yes.\n\n DJANGO\n White people?\n ","\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n Z/\n Dr.SCHULTZ (CONT'D)\n In my possession. is a warrant made out by\n circuit court Judge Henry Allen Laudermilk\n of Austin Texas. You are encouraged to wire him.\n He will back up who I am, and who your\n dear departed sheriff was.\n The Menfolk of the town with rifles, begin trading looks. Then\n Dr.Schultz delivers the coup de grace.\n ","ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives",", who's sure his new master is a lunatic\n who's going to get them both killed, peeks out the closed curtains\n on the window.\n Dr.Schultz's suit coat sits draped over a chair. All of his weapons,\n including his metal sliding rail Derringer contraption, lie on a table.\n He plays piano in his button down dress shirt and gray suit vest.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n What are they doing?\n\n DJANGO\n I think they wonderin' why you playin","finds Schultz's hidden DERRINGER, he keeps it in a\n holster around his ankle.\n As Timmy saddles the horses, he asks;\n\n TIMMY\n Do you feel bad for your friend?\n Django rises from the body of his friend.\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, \"I do.\n As Timmy saddles the horses he says;\n\n TIMMY\n I know just how ya feel. I lost a white\n friend once. He drowned in the"],["\n Stephen lying on the floor, bites his tongue.\n\n DJANGO\n That's what I thought. Now git outta\"here.\n With as much dignity as he can muster, Stephen stands up.\n Before he leaves, Django tells him;,\n\n DJANGO\n When I ring this bell, you better come\n a runnin'. You - not nobody else. While\n I'm on this property, you my nigger\n Snowball.\n Stephen leaves.\n Django lies down on the bed","\n NO!!!! !\n Just then Stephen appears in the entrance of the barn/blacksmith\n facility. He's holding Django's clothes in a bundle under his arm.\n\n STEPHEN\n Cap't, Miss Lara lookin' for you. She wanna\n talk about the Old Man's funeral.\n Oh, and she changed her mind 'bout snippin'\n Django. She gonna give 'em to the LeQuint\n Dickey people.\n While still keeping a firm grip on Django's'j","Django, and follows Broomhilda behind\n the kitchen door.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 121\n\n INT - KITCHEN (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\n In the kitchen with the OTHER DOMESTICS, Stephen says to Broomhilda;\n\n STEPHEN\n I thought you said you didn't know him?\n Broomhilda turns around.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Huh?\n Stephen approaches her,"," cause we burnin' all this shit once you\n gone. I'll have somebody knock on the\n door when the demonstration ready.\n Django sits down on the bed.\n Stephen turns to leave.\n\n DJANGO\n Not so fast.\n\n STEPHEN\n I got more important things to do then\n jaw with you.\n\n DJANGO\n Nigger, when I say stop you plant roots.\n Both the words and the tone stop Stephen dead. He turns around.\n\n DJANGO","\n On the count of three.\n\n DJANGO SCREAMS:\n\n DJANGO\n\n NO!!!!\n\n ACE WOODY\n\n ONE ...\n\n DJANGO\n\n NO DON'T DO IT!!!!!\n\n ACE WOODY\n Got to do it, boy. TWO...\n\n DJANGO\n\n NO!!!! !\n Just then Stephen appears in the entrance of the barn/blacksmith\n facility. He's holding Django's","05\n\n STEPHEN\n This one's yours, boy. That bed's damn\n nice too.\n Django walks over to the window, parts the curtains and peers out.\n Broomhilda's gone. As he looks through the glass, snotty Stephen\n rattles on in the background.\n\n STEPHEN\n Feel free to touch anything you want,\n cause we burnin' all this shit once you\n gone. I'll have somebody knock on the\n door when the demonstration ready.","ANGE END OF THE POKER hard against Django's BARE\n buttocks.\n Django SCREAMS!\n Stephen LAUGHS.\n Stephen walks away and sticks the poker back in the fire. He goes\n through Django's clothes and pulls out his tan pants. He tosses them on\n the floor by the hanging man.\n\n STEPHEN\n You leavin', that's what you can take\n with you.\n Stephen walks over to the hanging upside down man, and as he talks to\n ","that's what you can take\n with you.\n Stephen walks over to the hanging upside down man, and as he talks to\n him, he begins fondling Django's genitals.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n I31\n\n STEPHEN\n Now you were quite the topic of conversation\n for the last few hours. Seemed like folks\n never had a bright idea in their life, was\n comin' up with different ways to kill your\n ASS. Now most of","funny. Django's a Freeman.\n Stephen jerks a thumb up towards Django.\n\n STEPHEN\n This nigger, here?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n That nigger there. Let me at least introduce\n the two of. you. Django, this is another\n cheeky black bugger like yourself, Stephen.\n Stephen, this is Django. You two should\n hate each other.\n Stephen uses'the special privilege he and he alone enjoys amongst the\n blacks at Candyland.",", when I say stop you plant roots.\n Both the words and the tone stop Stephen dead. He turns around.\n\n DJANGO\n This tiny bell on this little table...\n .is this for you? I ring this, you\n do fer me?\n\n STEPHEN\n Me or somebody.\n Django reaches over and picks up the bell.\n (a soft) DING-A-LING\n\n STEPHEN\n\n (UNAMUSED)\n What 'cha want?\n\n DJAN",", Stephen goes over to a big fiery furnace in the\n blacksmith barn, and begins poking a LONG POKER which lies buried in\n the fire.\n Django's clothes are dumped by the furnace.\n\n ACE WOODY\n You gonna look after our friend?\n As, he plays with the poker in the fire, he says;\n\n STEPHEN\n Oh yes sirree Bob, you know I am!\n 01' Snowball and a certain naked ass\n upside down nigger we","you are, you always know the end is near\n 'fore the white folks.\n With the ORANGE HOT poker, he BURNS OFF Django's other NIPPLE.\n The smell of burned flesh smokes in the air. Stephen makes a show of\n breathing it in his nostrils.\n\n STEPHEN\n Damn Nigger, you smell good.\n He walks behind Django with the poker.\n\n STEPHEN\n You know, when you was sittin' on that feather\n bed in","for Stephen, no one else was the wiser.\n Broomhilda takes her greenbeans and leaves the dining room for the\n kitchen.\n Stephen watches her go, then looks at Django, then hands Candie his\n mint julep, and goes into a broad routine for the table's benefit.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Stephen, you're amazing. I haven't finished\n a drink in this house in twenty years.\n\n STEPHEN\n When a man likes a cold drink, a man likes\n ","I'm sure it would\n fascinate him, the niggers endurance for\n pain. I mean Hildi got something like\n fifteen lashes on her back. Lara Lee get\n one, she'd lose her mind. These niggers\n are tough, no doubt about it.\n\n LARA LEE\n Calvin, we are eating - dessert, no less.\n Ain't no one wanna see her whipped up back.\n Django continues to watching this play out.\n Stephen watches him.\n Candie"," blowing the limbs off of many of them.\n The LAWN is SILENT.\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\n ","-LING\n\n STEPHEN\n\n (UNAMUSED)\n What 'cha want?\n\n DJANGO\n I want you to pour some water in that\n bowl for my wash up.\n Stephen does what he's told, but with attitude.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n )O'\n Django shuts the guest room door so the two men are alone.\n Once Stephen's done, Django stands up from the bed.\n\n DJAN","Stephen has been Calvin's slave since he was a little boy. And in\n (almost) every way is the 2nd most powerful person at Candyland.\n Like the characters Basil Rathbone would play in swashbucklers, evil,\n scheming, intriguing men, always trying to influence and manipulate power\n for their own self interest. Well that describes Stephen to a tee.\n The Basil Rathbone of House Niggers.\n The old Man watches the caravan and the trailing dust cloud approach.\n\n THEN",",with Hildi this\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1ZL\n His eyes to to Broomhilda.\n\n STEPHEN\n You, stay in the kitchen.\n Stephen moves to the kitchen door, swings it open, and watches\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\n these two jokers (D","ILDA\n Yes 'em.\n With Candie interrogating Broomhilda, Django tenses up.\n Stephen clocks this.\n Stephen decides to test Django's reaction.\n\n STEPHEN\n You know Monsieur Candle, the doctor might\n be interested in seein' Hildi's \"peeled\"\n back. Seein' as he don't see many niggers\n where he from.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO SCHULTZ)\n When","\n I'm on this property, you my nigger\n Snowball.\n Stephen leaves.\n Django lies down on the bed. He covers his eyes with his arm.\n A door joins Django and Schultz's room. The adjoining door opens, and\n Schultz stands there.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Was that wise?\n Django doesn't remove his arm from.his eyes.\n\n DJANGO\n He ain't tellin' nobody 'bout that.\n That'"],["me.\n\n DJANGO\n Better not.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n You won't.\n\n DJANGO\n\n (SMILING)\n Better not.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (SMILING)\n You won't.\n They kiss.\n Then, astride Tony, Django leaves Candyland having rescued his\n Broomhilda from her Mountain, her Ring of Hellfire, and all her\n Dragons.\n\n\n"," blowing the limbs off of many of them.\n The LAWN is SILENT.\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\n ","\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\n\n DJANGO\n Here's your bill of sale, and freedom papers.\n No matter what happens to me, hold on to these\n and get out of the south.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n What's gonna happen to you?\n\n DJANGO\n Ain't nuttin' gonna happen to me honey,\n I'm just sayin'. Now go to the stable, little\n Timmy's","s lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he is the\n owner of Candyland.\n\n DJANGO\n Candyland? The mandingo fightin' place?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Oh, so you heard of it?\n\n DJANGO\n Ain't no slave ain't heard of Candyland.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\n ","\n Where's Broomhilda?\n\n TIMMY\n Who?\n\n DJANGO\n Hildi, the slave girl that ran away a\n couple of days ago. They had her in The\n Hot Box.\n\n TIMMY\n I don't know 'bout no girl.\n\n DJANGO\n How 'bout that German white man I came\n here with?\n\n TIMMY\n Oh he's dead. His body's over there.\n Django","lock on the\n cage door.\n He looks at the three men, especially Rodney, then says;\n\n DJANGO\n Throw up that dynamite.\n Rodney grabs a saddle bag full of dynamite and tosses it to Django on\n his Horse.\n Django wraps it around the Horse's neck, turns the beast around, and\n without saying another word, rides back in the direction of Candyland.\n The Three NOW FREE Mandingos, watch him ride away.\n \"Who was that nigger?\"","ason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\n to know how much you want 'er. So instead,\n you waste my time with all this Eskimo Joe\n horseshit.\n\n (TO STEPHEN)\n Stephen, put her in that chair.\n Stephen sits the young lady down in Moguy's old chair.\n With their palms against the table, unarmed, Django and Schultz\n silently watch Candie's","ROOMHILDA\n\n INT - SLAVE PEN - DAY\n The same shot we saw before of Django fighting his way to the bars of\n the slave pen, to get a better last look of Broomhilda.\n Broomhilda, as before is walked by in the distance.\n Then, as before Django loses sight of her.\n\n EXT - MAIN STREET - GREENVILLE - DAY\n We follow in front of Broomhilda being lead out of the slave pen by TWO\n WH"," Ix?\n Stephen enters the dining room through the kitchen door, holding\n roughly in his grip, Broomhilda. He holds a small Derringer pistol\n against the side of her head.\n Django and Schultz react.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Now it should be quite clear by now I know\n you're not here to buy no mandingos.\n Reason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\n","wrapped around his waist.\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine company beast,\n and climbs aboard him bareback.\n He leans over and snatches the RIFLE that Floyd kept on the wagon seat\n next to him.\n Grabbing a fistful of the horses mane, he digs his heels into the\n beast's side. The pack animals SPRINGS TO LIFE under the new rider. By\n now it should be apparent that Django brings",".\n Broomhilda goes to Calvin.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Can I take away your dishes, Monsieur Candle?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Yes you may, Hildi.\n She begins gathering the dirty dishes.\n Candie looks up at her as she works.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n So Hildi, how you like servin at the big\n table in the big house?\n\n BROOMHILDA\n I like it a","I've always been\n sweet on you. I don't wanna bust your ass.\n So don't make me! Now I'm gonna go shit.\n You calm down.\n He exits the shack to go the outhouse, leaving Broomhilda alone.\n WE MOVE INTO A CLOSE UP OF BROOMHILDA lying on the bed. She cries for\n Django, she cries for herself...\n\n .THEN...\n She HEARS an IMPACT SOUND, and a MUFF"," Prefer the other side?\n\n DJANGO\n I didn't say that.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I've confirmed Broomhilda's at Candyland.\n\n DJANGO\n Are you sure it's her?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n He didn't call her by name, but she's a\n young lady, whip marks on 'her back, and\n speaks German. Now while it'","for Stephen, no one else was the wiser.\n Broomhilda takes her greenbeans and leaves the dining room for the\n kitchen.\n Stephen watches her go, then looks at Django, then hands Candie his\n mint julep, and goes into a broad routine for the table's benefit.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Stephen, you're amazing. I haven't finished\n a drink in this house in twenty years.\n\n STEPHEN\n When a man likes a cold drink, a man likes\n ","this\n black and make sure he keeps up.\n\n JANO\n Oh, I'll keep 'em up.\n Jano takes the rope tired around Django's wrists.and ties the other end\n around his saddle horn.\n The LeQuint Dickey Mining Company caravan leaves Candyland.\n\n EXT - MISSISSIPPI COUNTRY ROAD - DAY\n The Caravan makes its way down a dirt road in pretty Chickasaw County.\n Stoic Roy riding lead horse, Floyd","Y\n (pointing, behind\n him, at Django)\n That black ride into Candyland yesterday?\n The Caged Men don't know what they're suppose to say.\n Roy removes the pistol from his belt, cocks back the hammer and points\n the barrel at the cage.\n\n ROY\n I'm gonna ask again, and remember I don't\n like liars. Is he a Candyland slave, or did\n he ride in with a white man yesterday?\n\n \n\n \n"," putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\n As he,walks up to Broomhilda on Fritz, he says;\n\n DJANGO\n Hey Little Trouble Maker.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Hey Big Trouble Maker.\n\n DJANGO\n Down, boy.\n Timmy hops off of Tony.\n Django climbs aboard Tony. He says to Broomhilda;\n","\n goodbye to Miss Lara. Miss Lara makes a big show of saying goodbye to\n them.\n A little cognizant of the Candie Family unit begin the walk off the\n hill back to the big house.\n\n EXT - BILLY CRASH'S SHACK - NIGHT\n Django with Broomhilda. Billy Crash lies dead in the B.G., Stonesipher's\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\n\n DJANGO\n Here's","Django, and follows Broomhilda behind\n the kitchen door.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 121\n\n INT - KITCHEN (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\n In the kitchen with the OTHER DOMESTICS, Stephen says to Broomhilda;\n\n STEPHEN\n I thought you said you didn't know him?\n Broomhilda turns around.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Huh?\n Stephen approaches her,","lower then a black slaver. Black\n slavers are lower then head house niggers, and\n buddy, that's pretty fuckin low.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Then play him that way! Give me your black slaver.\n Django gets that.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Can you do that?\n\n DJANGO\n That, I can do. What's next?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n To get ourselves personally invited to\n Candyland by Calvin Candie himself.\n\n"],["Hildi, this is Dr.Schultz, he\n speaks German.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (TO BROOMHILDA)\n I've been informed you do as well.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)\n It would be my, pleasure to speak with you\n in German.\n Schultz acts for the benefit of Miss Lara's astonishment.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Astonishing.\n\n (IN GERMAN)","' me.\n\n STEPHEN\n Why am I scarin' you?\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Because you're scary.\n Things have become so tense and quiet in the kitchen, that the dinner\n table conversation begins to bleed inside.\n We hear Dr.Schultz in the next room say;\n Dr.SCHULTZ (OS)\n .to speak German,with Hildi this\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea"," As Dr.Schultz calmly pours the young lady a glass of water, he begins\n talking to her in GERMAN SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n I'm aware you haven't spoken German in\n a long while. So I'll talk slowly.\n I'm only speaking German to you now,\n Broomhilda, in case Candie's people are\n listening to us. Myself and a mutual\n friend of ours, have gone","SCHULTZ\n Yes, that does add a little character.\n The German dentist lowers himself by the Speck brother pinned down\n under his horse, and hands him the notebook and pen.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n If you'd be so kind Speck, as to make your\n mark here.\n The. Hillbilly spits in the German gentleman's face. The good doctor\n wipes his face with a handkerchief. Then takes out a pocket knife.\n And whispers something that can't be heard in","'t it?\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Yes. How do you know that?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Stands to reason who ever taught you\n German would also give you a German name.\n Can I pour you a glass of water,\n Broomhilda?\n Hearing her name being spoke properly for the first time in awhile, not\n to mention with a German accent, does have a bit of a calming influence\n on the frightened girl.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n","\n\n (GERMAN)\n Yes you do.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)\n Who?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n I can't tell you. Our mutual friend has a\n flair for the dramatic, and he wants to\n surprise you.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n !!0\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)\n Where is he?","off nonplussed.\n\n INT - SCHULTZ'S GUEST ROOM (BIG HOUSE) - LATE AFTERNOON\n With the door closed, Schultz turns to the weak, frightened,\n disoriented girl.\n He gives her a pleasant smile.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n They call you Hildi, but your real name\n is Broomhilda, isn't it?\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Yes. How do you know that?\n Dr.SCHULTZ","accent, does have a bit of a calming influence\n on the frightened girl.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 107\n\n WE CUT TO DJANGO\n on the other side of the adjoining door, listening, waiting for his cue\n to present himself.\n BACK TO BROOMHILDA AND Dr.SCHULTZ\n As Dr.Schultz calmly pours the young lady a glass of water, he begins\n talking to her in GERMAN SUBT","GERMAN)\n Please drink.\n She absentmindedly obeys.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (.GERMAN).\n Now it's myself and our mutual friend's\n intention to take you away from here\n forever.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)\n I don't got any friends.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n Yes you do.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)","\n Now Django reacts, \"How did he know that?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, how did you know? She wasn't born on\n The Carrucan Plantation. She was raised by\n a German mistress, The Von Shafts. She can\n speak a little German too.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Your wife?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, when she was little her mistress taught\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n","was sold, you know where\n she came from, the Carrucan Plantation, and\n you know her name ... . what is her name?\n\n DJANGO\n Broomhilda.\n Schultz reacts.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Broomhilda?\n Django.nods his head yes.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Were her owners German?\n Now Django reacts, \"How did he know that?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, how did you know? She",", when she was little her mistress taught\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n So let me get this straight, your slave\n wife speaks German, and her name is\n Broomhilda Von Shaft...?\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n DJANGO\n Yep. Mouthful, huh?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n To say the least.\n (stopping the horse)\n This looks like a very",".\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Do you think before the demonstration you\n could send her around to my room?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n I don't see why not.\n\n (TO STEPHEN)\n Stephen, when you get through showing\n them to their rooms, go fetch Hildi.\n I want her cleaned up and smellin' nice,\n and sent over to Dr.Schultz's room.\n Stephen has to be the bearer of bad news.\n\n STE","ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives","Z\n\n (GERMAN)\n Promise me you won't scream?\n She nods her head, yes.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n Say, I promise.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)\n I promise.\n Dr.Schultz moves to the door, and lightly raps on it.\n The door knob turns.\n The door slowly opens revealing...\n Her husband Django, but different, all cowboyed out and cleaned up",",with Hildi this\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1ZL\n His eyes to to Broomhilda.\n\n STEPHEN\n You, stay in the kitchen.\n Stephen moves to the kitchen door, swings it open, and watches\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\n these two jokers (D","\n \n\n 11 7\n\n BROOMHILDA¢\n Who?\n\n STEPHEN\n Don't stall me bitch, you know who?\n\n BROOMHILDA\n At the table? I don't know him.\n\n STEPHEN.\n You don't know him?\n\n BROOMHILDA\n No.\n\n STEPHEN\n You wouldn't lie to me now, would you?\n She shakes","\n \n\n !!0\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)\n Where is he?\n He points at the adjoining door.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n Standing right behind that door.\n Her head moves in the direction of the door.\n He looks to the young woman;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n Promise me you won't scream?\n She nods her head, yes.\n Dr","roomhilda, in case Candie's people are\n listening to us. Myself and a mutual\n friend of ours, have gone through a lot\n of trouble, and rode a lot of miles, to\n find you fraulein - to rescue you.\n He hands her a tall clear glass of water.\n She looks at him weird, rescue me?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n Please drink.\n She absentmindedly obeys.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (.GER","of when the conversation started.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\n named, Sigfried.\n\n DJANGO\n Does Sigfried save her?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes he does, and quite spectacularly, so.\n Now true, he is assisted in his triumph by\n a truly, truly, remarkable sword, still, having\n said that, Sigfried triumphs over all of his\n obstacles not just due to his sword, but due to\n his"],["three caged men are watching is the three Australian mining\n company employees and Django, off in the distance (where they can't\n hear what they're saying), having some sort of a discussion. That\n includes the still bound by the wrists Django showing the three men a\n piece of paper.\n\n INSERT: SMITTY BACALL'S WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE HANDBILL\n Roy holds it in his hand as he reads and Django talks.\n\n DJANGO\n I ain't no god","on the manifest? All of you\n know I'm not suppose to be on this trip.\n But those four men, are still back there.\n They're still wanted. And that eleven thousand\n five hundred is still up for grabs. And the\n last thing they'd expect is y'all rid.in back\n and gittin it.\n Django is damn convincing.\n\n ROY\n What's your deal? You tell us who they are\n and we let ya go?\n\n DJANGO\n ","wrapped around his waist.\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine company beast,\n and climbs aboard him bareback.\n He leans over and snatches the RIFLE that Floyd kept on the wagon seat\n next to him.\n Grabbing a fistful of the horses mane, he digs his heels into the\n beast's side. The pack animals SPRINGS TO LIFE under the new rider. By\n now it should be apparent that Django brings","killed him\n - At which point, the authorities pay me\n the bounty.\n (lifting his beer)\n Cheers.\n The two men touch glasses, and take a drink.\n\n DJANGO\n What's a bounty?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n It's like a reward.\n\n DJANGO\n You kill people and they give you a reward?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Certain people, yes.\n\n DJANGO\n White people?\n ","'bout, y'all.\n We found your wanted posters and book of figures\n in your saddle bags. I gotta say, ain't never\n heard of no black bounty hunter before. A black\n boy paid to kill white men? How did ya like that\n line of work?\n Django retorts, upside down.\n\n DJANGO\n Well, it turns out I was a natural.\n Ace woody laughs.\n\n ACE WOODY\n Boy, people 'round here are","\n JANO\n Who?\n\n DJANGO\n LeQuint Dickey?\n\n JANO\n You gotta few more things to worry about\n black boy, then what I get paid.\n\n DJANGO\n I ain't worried about it. I'm just curious.\n I mean, I'm the property of The LeQuint Dickey\n Mining Company, ain't I?\n\n JANO\n Yeah.\n\n DJANGO\n And you","say once I know you better, I wouldn't\n like to get a look at that mouth - I'm sure\n it's a disaster - But these days I practice\n a new profession ... . Bounty Hunter.\n This gets no reaction from Django.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Do you know what a Bounty Hunter is?\n The Black Man shakes his head, no.\n As the good doctor, walks back to the table carrying the mugs of beer,\n\n HE EXPLAINS;\n Dr.S","to business. As Schultz and Gus discuss the\n bounties, Django reads the handbills aloud from off the wall. On the\n third one he reads, WARREN VANDERS, and a two thousand dollar bounty,\n \"That one\", Schultz says.\n Django RIPS IT off the wall.\n As the winter has progressed, we see they've become a genuine bounty\n hunting team. And Django, a genuine bounty hunter.\n\n EXT - PRETTY MEADO","mean that other bunch of malarky.is.\n\n ROY\n Why would a nigger slave have a wanted dead\n or alive handbill in his pocket?\n Floyd doesn't have an answer for that one.\n\n ROY\n That black's damn convincing.\n They get to The Cage O'Men. Roy startles them with a direct question;\n\n ROY\n (pointing, behind\n him, at Django)\n That black ride into Candyland yesterday?\n The Caged","riders approach, he turns to\n Dr.Schultz and Django, and says;\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n You know since I started fightin' niggers\n about eleven years ago, it's been a new\n lease on'life. And the man ridin' up here\n now is the man responsible for all my\n success.\n Ace and his boys pull their horses up, kicking up dust.\n Through the dust Ace, Brown, and Jingle Bells Cody eyeball Django and\n Schult","Y\n What's your deal? You tell us who they are\n and we let ya go?\n\n DJANGO\n I ain't tellin' who they are. But, you give\n me a pistol, and a horse, and five hundred\n dollars of that eleven thousand five hundred,\n and I'll point 'em out to you.\n He's got these greedy sonsabitches right on the hook...he just needs\n one little push.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n ","this\n black and make sure he keeps up.\n\n JANO\n Oh, I'll keep 'em up.\n Jano takes the rope tired around Django's wrists.and ties the other end\n around his saddle horn.\n The LeQuint Dickey Mining Company caravan leaves Candyland.\n\n EXT - MISSISSIPPI COUNTRY ROAD - DAY\n The Caravan makes its way down a dirt road in pretty Chickasaw County.\n Stoic Roy riding lead horse, Floyd","a farmer?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n No. Smitty Bacall is a stagecoach robber\n who's hiding out as a farmer, because\n there's a seven thousand dollar bounty on\n his head.\n He hands Django the scope rifle case.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n And he's all yours my boy.\n DJANGO lays on his belly, with the Scope Sight up to his eye.\n\n SCOPE SIGHT POV:\n on the Farmer struggling behind","\n You will?\n Removing his long brown leather billfold from his suit jacket pocket.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n You'll pay five hundred dollars for a\n one eyed Ole'Joe, ain't fit to push a\n broom?\n Django's voice cuts through the Mississippi heat.\n\n DJANGO\n No he won't.\n All eyes turn to Django.\n\n DJANGO\n He's just","\n I\"\n\n DJANGO\n How long you been here?\n\n JANO\n 'bout two years.\n\n DJANGO\n And you ain't paid him back yet?\n\n JANO\n\n (DEFENSIVELY)\n No, not yet!\n\n DJANGO\n\n (LAUGHS)\n You a slave too, peckawood. They just bought\n your ass for the price of a boat ride.\n At least they didn","lock on the\n cage door.\n He looks at the three men, especially Rodney, then says;\n\n DJANGO\n Throw up that dynamite.\n Rodney grabs a saddle bag full of dynamite and tosses it to Django on\n his Horse.\n Django wraps it around the Horse's neck, turns the beast around, and\n without saying another word, rides back in the direction of Candyland.\n The Three NOW FREE Mandingos, watch him ride away.\n \"Who was that nigger?\"","earn it.\n\n JANO\n If you got something to say, say it.\n\n DJANGO\n The eleven thousand five hundred dollar fortune\n waiting for you back at Candyland, is in the\n form of a wanted dead or alive bounty on\n Smitty Bacall and the Smitty Bacall Gang.\n\n JANO\n Who the fuck is Smitty Bacall?\n\n DJANGO\n Smitty Bacall is the leader of a murdering\n gang of stageco","'s your name young, man?\n\n DJANGO\n Django.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Wunderbar! You're exactly the one I'm looking\n for. So tell me Django - by the way that's a\n amazing name - during your time at the\n Carrucan Plantation, did you come to know\n three overseers by the name of The Brittle\n Brothers?\n Django nods his head, yes.\n Dr.Schultz is delighted.\n Dr.SCHULT","the air, obscuring all visibility...\n\n THEN ...\n A sudden GUST OF WIND comes and BLOWS all the smoke and dust away,\n REVEALING in bright color focus...\n .DJANGO standing among the two dead Aussies, and whatever is left of\n Jano.\n He's shoeless and shirtless, but Floyd's pistol and gunbelt sit\n wrapped around his waist.\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine","\n Who that farmer? Who cares?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well since we came here to kill 'em, he\n just might.\n\n DJANGO\n What? The little man pushin' that plow?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n That little man pushing that plow, is Smitty Bacall.\n\n DJANGO\n Smitty Bacall is a farmer?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n No. Smitty Bacall is a stagecoach robber\n who's"],[" DJANGO\n I know what they look like, all right.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\n with me till we find them -\n\n DJANGO\n - Where we goin'?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\n That means we visit every plantation in\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\n find","\n\n BACK TO DJANGO AND THE SPYGLASS\n he lowers the glass.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 3 0\n\n BETINA\n\n (INNOCENTLY)\n Is that who you lookin' for?\n\n DJANGO\n Yep.\n He folds the spyglass back up, and puts it back in his purse.\n\n DJANGO\n Where's the other two?\n\n B"," J42\n\n DJANGO\n\n (TO JANO)\n Hey boy!\n Jano ignores him.\n\n DJANGO\n I said, hey white boy!\n\n JANO\n Keep your mouth shut black, you ain't got\n nothing to say I wanna hear.\n\n DJANGO\n What's he pay you?\n\n JANO\n Who?\n\n DJANGO\n LeQuint Dickey?\n\n JAN","back up, and puts it back in his purse.\n\n DJANGO\n Where's the other two?\n\n BETINA.\n They by the stable, punishin' Little Jody\n for breakin' eggs.\n\n DJANGO\n They whippin' Little Jody?\n She nods her head, yes.\n\n DJANGO\n Point me in that direction.\n She points to a shed, and keeps pointing right.\n\n BETINA\n You go to that","lock on the\n cage door.\n He looks at the three men, especially Rodney, then says;\n\n DJANGO\n Throw up that dynamite.\n Rodney grabs a saddle bag full of dynamite and tosses it to Django on\n his Horse.\n Django wraps it around the Horse's neck, turns the beast around, and\n without saying another word, rides back in the direction of Candyland.\n The Three NOW FREE Mandingos, watch him ride away.\n \"Who was that nigger?\"",", and says;\n\n DJANGO\n Where's my pistol?\n\n ROY\n Floyd, you got that rifle on the wagon, give\n 'em your gun and your belt.\n Floyd unbuckles his gun belt, gun and all, folds it up, and walks over\n to Django handing it to him. Django accepts it.\n About the pistol, Floyd tells Django;\n\n FLOYD\n Now don't drop it now. I just had the sights\n fixed","\n\n DJANGO\n My woman, Hildi, is with Billy Crash.\n You know where his shack is?\n\n TIMMY\n Sure do.\n\n DJANGO\n You show me?\n\n TIMMY\n Will I get in trouble?\n\n DJANGO\n Not by the time I get through killin'\n everybody.\n Timmy has never heard a black man talk like that. He believes him.\n\n TIMMY\n I'll show ya.","Django, and follows Broomhilda behind\n the kitchen door.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 121\n\n INT - KITCHEN (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\n In the kitchen with the OTHER DOMESTICS, Stephen says to Broomhilda;\n\n STEPHEN\n I thought you said you didn't know him?\n Broomhilda turns around.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Huh?\n Stephen approaches her,","GO\n Sure.\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\n\n SCHULTZ SAYS;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n So your plan is to trackdowri your wife, and\n purchase her.freedom? Only you don't know\n where she is?\n A chewing Django nods his head, yes.\n Dr.Schultz, takes a big bite of jerky, chews for a \"moment contemplating\n the d","'s your name young, man?\n\n DJANGO\n Django.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Wunderbar! You're exactly the one I'm looking\n for. So tell me Django - by the way that's a\n amazing name - during your time at the\n Carrucan Plantation, did you come to know\n three overseers by the name of The Brittle\n Brothers?\n Django nods his head, yes.\n Dr.Schultz is delighted.\n Dr.SCHULT","s lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he is the\n owner of Candyland.\n\n DJANGO\n Candyland? The mandingo fightin' place?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Oh, so you heard of it?\n\n DJANGO\n Ain't no slave ain't heard of Candyland.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\n ",", is a understatement.\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Who are they?\n\n DJANGO\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\n little brother Raj.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Where's Ellis?\n\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Br","and he puts a\n fire breathing dragon there to guard the mountain.\n And. then he surrounds her in circle of hellfire.\n And there Broomhilda shall remain, unless a hero\n arises brave enough to save her.\n\n DJANGO\n Does a fella arise?\n From now on as Dr.Schultz talks, he's beginning to realize something he\n wasn't aware of when the conversation started.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\n named","\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Brittle riding his horse full out through the cotton field trying\n to make an escape.\n\n SCHULTZ'S WINCHESTER\n goes to his eye, he follows the rider with his rifle barrel.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Are you sure that's him?\n Ellis gets further away...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n DJ","begins washing the blood-off'of himself. As he washes, he says outloud;\n\n DJANGO\n What ya doin around here, boy?\n Timmy steps from his watching place in the bushes.\n\n TIMMY\n I was just walkin' by.\n\n DJANGO\n Wanna help me out?\n\n TIMMY\n Sure.\n\n DJANGO\n My woman, Hildi, is with Billy Crash.\n You know where his shack is?","takes in the environment around him. Django has never cared for white\n folks, but these white folks are in particularly ugly.\n\n It's DJANGO's turn ON THE AUCTION BLOCK\n as the THEME SONG wails its tragic crescendo, Django is brought up on\n the auction block. He.looks down at all the WHITE PEOPLE who want to\n buy Niggers, who look up to him.\n His heart fills with poison.\n\n BACK TO DJANGO\n walking in Leg Irons with his","\n Where's Broomhilda?\n\n TIMMY\n Who?\n\n DJANGO\n Hildi, the slave girl that ran away a\n couple of days ago. They had her in The\n Hot Box.\n\n TIMMY\n I don't know 'bout no girl.\n\n DJANGO\n How 'bout that German white man I came\n here with?\n\n TIMMY\n Oh he's dead. His body's over there.\n Django","on the manifest? All of you\n know I'm not suppose to be on this trip.\n But those four men, are still back there.\n They're still wanted. And that eleven thousand\n five hundred is still up for grabs. And the\n last thing they'd expect is y'all rid.in back\n and gittin it.\n Django is damn convincing.\n\n ROY\n What's your deal? You tell us who they are\n and we let ya go?\n\n DJANGO\n ","three caged men are watching is the three Australian mining\n company employees and Django, off in the distance (where they can't\n hear what they're saying), having some sort of a discussion. That\n includes the still bound by the wrists Django showing the three men a\n piece of paper.\n\n INSERT: SMITTY BACALL'S WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE HANDBILL\n Roy holds it in his hand as he reads and Django talks.\n\n DJANGO\n I ain't no god","wrapped around his waist.\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine company beast,\n and climbs aboard him bareback.\n He leans over and snatches the RIFLE that Floyd kept on the wagon seat\n next to him.\n Grabbing a fistful of the horses mane, he digs his heels into the\n beast's side. The pack animals SPRINGS TO LIFE under the new rider. By\n now it should be apparent that Django brings"],["y hunting business?\n\n DJANGO\n Kill white folks, and they pay ya?\n What's not to like?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I hafta admit, we make a good team.\n\n DJANGO\n But I'thought you were mad at me for killin'\n Big John and Rodger?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes, on that occasion, you were a tad\n overzealous. But normally, that's a good\n thing. How'd you like"," DJANGO\n I know what they look like, all right.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\n with me till we find them -\n\n DJANGO\n - Where we goin'?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\n That means we visit every plantation in\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\n find","ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives","his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives, is a man with\n a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with\n a good plan. So, having said that, what's\n your plan, young Django?\n\n DJANGO\n What'cha mean?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\n","to get\n his attention, we better be talking about\n big sweaty black males. So my character is\n that of a big money buyer from Dusseldorf, here\n in Greenville to buy my way into the mandingo\n fight game. And your character is the mandingo\n expert I hired to help me do it.\n\n DJANGO\n They call that \"One-Eyed Charly.\"\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\n One-Eyed Charly?\n\n DJANGO\n That's what",", cause we gotta us a fight\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\n\n C","GO\n Sure.\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\n\n SCHULTZ SAYS;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n So your plan is to trackdowri your wife, and\n purchase her.freedom? Only you don't know\n where she is?\n A chewing Django nods his head, yes.\n Dr.Schultz, takes a big bite of jerky, chews for a \"moment contemplating\n the d","himself some more tea out of a fancy tea pot, as he\n thinks about what he's going to say next.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Look Django, I don't doubt one day you will\n save your lady love. But I'm afraid I can't\n let you go to Greenville in a good conscious.\n Let me ask you a question, how do you like\n the bounty hunting business?\n\n DJANGO\n Kill white folks, and they pay ya?\n What's not to like?\n",", is a understatement.\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Who are they?\n\n DJANGO\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\n little brother Raj.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Where's Ellis?\n\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Br","itates.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\n mad at you. Take out Smitty Bacall's handbill.\n Django removes the folded up handbill from the pocket of his tan pants.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Read it aloud. Consider it today's lesson.\n\n DJANGO\n\n (READING)\n \"Wanted, dead or alive. Smitty Bacall and\n The Smitty Bacall G","a reward?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Certain people, yes.\n\n DJANGO\n White people?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Mostly. A few Mexicans. Couple Chinamen.\n\n DJANGO\n Bad people?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Badder they are, bigger the reward.\n Which brings me to you, and I must admit\n I'm at a bit of a quandary when it comes\n to you. On one hand, I despise slavery.\n ","done anything for Django, just to him. So\n understandably, he's a little suspicious.\n\n DJANGO\n Why you care what happens to me? Why you\n care if I find my wife?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well frankly, I've never given anybody\n their freedom before. And now that I have,\n I feel vaguely responsible for you. You're\n just not ready to go off on your own, it's\n that simple. You're too green, you'll get hurt","riders approach, he turns to\n Dr.Schultz and Django, and says;\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n You know since I started fightin' niggers\n about eleven years ago, it's been a new\n lease on'life. And the man ridin' up here\n now is the man responsible for all my\n success.\n Ace and his boys pull their horses up, kicking up dust.\n Through the dust Ace, Brown, and Jingle Bells Cody eyeball Django and\n Schult"," Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well I'm naturally curious, of course, but\n there's no reason you MUST tell me. In fact\n an air of mystery adds a dash of panache to\n any steed. And I do believe Tony wears it\n well. Good job Django, well done.\n\n EXT - THE WESTERN TOWN OF DAUGHTREY - MORNING\n As the citizens of Daughtrey wake up, Django and Dr.Schultz ride Fritz\n and Tony through the main street of","to business. As Schultz and Gus discuss the\n bounties, Django reads the handbills aloud from off the wall. On the\n third one he reads, WARREN VANDERS, and a two thousand dollar bounty,\n \"That one\", Schultz says.\n Django RIPS IT off the wall.\n As the winter has progressed, we see they've become a genuine bounty\n hunting team. And Django, a genuine bounty hunter.\n\n EXT - PRETTY MEADO","and he puts a\n fire breathing dragon there to guard the mountain.\n And. then he surrounds her in circle of hellfire.\n And there Broomhilda shall remain, unless a hero\n arises brave enough to save her.\n\n DJANGO\n Does a fella arise?\n From now on as Dr.Schultz talks, he's beginning to realize something he\n wasn't aware of when the conversation started.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\n named",")\n He walks through hellfire because\n Broomhilda's worth. it.\n After that last line of dialogue... .the two men just let a moment pass\n as they nibble on their sandwiches.\n\n DJANGO\n I know how he feels.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I think I'm just starting to realize that.\n He pours Django and himself some more tea out of a fancy tea pot, as he\n thinks about what he's going to say next.\n Dr.SCH","SCHULTZ\n Can you convincingly masquerade as someone\n who is an expert on mandingo fighters?\n\n DJANGO¢\n Why?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Because when a man has one of the four\n biggest cotton plantations in Dixie, but\n the only thing that seems to ring his chimes\n is big sweaty black males, if WE want to get\n his attention, we better be talking about\n big sweaty black males. So my character is\n that of a big money buyer"," \n\n \n\n \n\n W7\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes. You work with me through the winter,\n till the snow melts. I give you a third\n of my bounties. And while we're together,\n I'll teach you a few things you're going\n to need to know.\n\n DJANGO\n Can you teach me how to make Tony do that\n head bow thing that Fritz can do?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n That among other things","d ya dig him up?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n A fortuitous turn of events brought\n Django and myself together.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO DJANGO)\n I've heard tell about you. I heard you're a\n real bright boy.\n\n (BEAT)\n I'm curious, what makes you such a\n mandingo expert?\n\n DJANGO\n I'm curious, what makes you so curious?\n Bartholomew"],["Hildi, this is Dr.Schultz, he\n speaks German.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (TO BROOMHILDA)\n I've been informed you do as well.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)\n It would be my, pleasure to speak with you\n in German.\n Schultz acts for the benefit of Miss Lara's astonishment.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Astonishing.\n\n (IN GERMAN)",".\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Do you think before the demonstration you\n could send her around to my room?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n I don't see why not.\n\n (TO STEPHEN)\n Stephen, when you get through showing\n them to their rooms, go fetch Hildi.\n I want her cleaned up and smellin' nice,\n and sent over to Dr.Schultz's room.\n Stephen has to be the bearer of bad news.\n\n STE",".Schultz's door,\n after Calvin's sister raps on it.\n Dr.Schultz opens the door.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Hello ladies.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n DOG\n\n LARA LEE\n Dr.Schultz, may I introduce to you,\n Hildi. Hildi, this is Dr.Schultz, he\n speaks German.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (TO","\n\n (GERMAN)\n Yes you do.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)\n Who?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n I can't tell you. Our mutual friend has a\n flair for the dramatic, and he wants to\n surprise you.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n !!0\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)\n Where is he?","are our horses,\n Fritz, and Tony.\n Fritz, does his head bow.\n This makes the pretty PONY'S surrounding Bennett, giggle.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Mr. Bennett, I've been lead to believe you\n are a gentleman, and a business man.\n And it is in these capacities that we've\n ridden from Texas to Tennessee to talk\n with you now.\n\n SPENCER BENNETT\n State your business.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n ","SCHULTZ\n Yes, that does add a little character.\n The German dentist lowers himself by the Speck brother pinned down\n under his horse, and hands him the notebook and pen.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n If you'd be so kind Speck, as to make your\n mark here.\n The. Hillbilly spits in the German gentleman's face. The good doctor\n wipes his face with a handkerchief. Then takes out a pocket knife.\n And whispers something that can't be heard in","' me.\n\n STEPHEN\n Why am I scarin' you?\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Because you're scary.\n Things have become so tense and quiet in the kitchen, that the dinner\n table conversation begins to bleed inside.\n We hear Dr.Schultz in the next room say;\n Dr.SCHULTZ (OS)\n .to speak German,with Hildi this\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea",", and walks-behind the bar, and pours two beer's\n from the tap into mugs. Django remains seated, and after a beat, asks;\n\n DJANGO\n What kinda dentist are you?\n This makes the doctor laugh, as he pours the beer's.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I haven't practiced dentistry in five years -\n Not to say once I know you better, I wouldn't\n like to get a look at that mouth - I'm sure\n it's a","Fritz, does a little bow with his head, a neat trick the doctor taught\n him.\n\n DICKY SPECK\n You a doctor?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Affirmative.\n\n DICKY SPECK\n What kinda doctor?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Dentist. Are you The Speck Brothers, and did you\n purchase those men at The Greenville.Slave Auction?\n\n ACE SPECK\n So what?\n\n \n\n \n\n ","accent, does have a bit of a calming influence\n on the frightened girl.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 107\n\n WE CUT TO DJANGO\n on the other side of the adjoining door, listening, waiting for his cue\n to present himself.\n BACK TO BROOMHILDA AND Dr.SCHULTZ\n As Dr.Schultz calmly pours the young lady a glass of water, he begins\n talking to her in GERMAN SUBT"," As Dr.Schultz calmly pours the young lady a glass of water, he begins\n talking to her in GERMAN SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n I'm aware you haven't spoken German in\n a long while. So I'll talk slowly.\n I'm only speaking German to you now,\n Broomhilda, in case Candie's people are\n listening to us. Myself and a mutual\n friend of ours, have gone","\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n Z/\n Dr.SCHULTZ (CONT'D)\n In my possession. is a warrant made out by\n circuit court Judge Henry Allen Laudermilk\n of Austin Texas. You are encouraged to wire him.\n He will back up who I am, and who your\n dear departed sheriff was.\n The Menfolk of the town with rifles, begin trading looks. Then\n Dr.Schultz delivers the coup de grace.\n ","Miss Lara's astonishment.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Astonishing.\n\n (IN GERMAN)\n Please come inside Fraulein.\n She does, and just'as Lara Lee is to say something, Schultz says,\n \"Thank You very much,\" and closes the door in her face. Miss Lara looks\n to her Mammy, and the two women head off nonplussed.\n\n INT - SCHULTZ'S GUEST ROOM (BIG HOUSE) - LATE AFTER","Dr.SCHULTZ\n I'm afraid so.\n\n SPENCER BENNETT\n Well what if I say, I don't like you, or\n your fancy pants. nigger, and I wouldn't\n sell you a tinkers damn - what'cha gotta\n say about that?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Mr. Bennett, if you are the business man,\n I've been led to believe you to be,\n I have five thousand things I might say,\n that could change your mind.","bs back up on Fritz, and looks to the six Slaves, in\n leg irons.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Now as to you poor devils.\n He tosses to Pudgy Ralph the keys to the shackles.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n So as I.see it, when it comes to the subject\n of what to do next, you gentlemen have two\n choices. One, once I'm gone, you lift that\n beast off the remaining Speck, then carry him\n to the nearest town.","roomhilda, in case Candie's people are\n listening to us. Myself and a mutual\n friend of ours, have gone through a lot\n of trouble, and rode a lot of miles, to\n find you fraulein - to rescue you.\n He hands her a tall clear glass of water.\n She looks at him weird, rescue me?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n Please drink.\n She absentmindedly obeys.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (.GER"," Dr.SCHULTZ\n What you think I am? No I don't.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1310,\n\n CALVIN CANDLE\n I think you are a bad loser.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n And I think you're an abysmal winner.\n\n CALVIN CANDLE\n Never the less, here in Chickasaw County\n a deal ain't done till the two parties have\n ",", cause we gotta us a fight\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\n\n C","GERMAN)\n Please drink.\n She absentmindedly obeys.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (.GERMAN).\n Now it's myself and our mutual friend's\n intention to take you away from here\n forever.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)\n I don't got any friends.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n Yes you do.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)","\n They ride a bit longer in silence.. .the good doctor composes himself...\n then says with a smile;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n So... . now that that's settled... . what do you\n intend to name it? Half the fun of having\n a horse is choosing his name. For instance\n my steed is named Fritz. He's stubborn,\n ornery, and prone to a bad disposition, but I\n couldn't do without him.\n (he pats Fritz's neck)\n"],["\n Django with Schultz, earlier, inspecting and rejecting these three.\n\n RODNEY\n gives Django a bad eyeball look up on his horse.\n\n DJANGO ON TONY\n sees it. He's playing the role of a fucker black slaver, he can't let\n that shit stand.\n He yells down to the powerless man;\n\n DJANGO\n Gotta problem with your eyeball, boy?\n Rodney looks away.\n\n RODNEY",".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\n\n FADE TO BLACK\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\n The C","ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives",", who's sure his new master is a lunatic\n who's going to get them both killed, peeks out the closed curtains\n on the window.\n Dr.Schultz's suit coat sits draped over a chair. All of his weapons,\n including his metal sliding rail Derringer contraption, lie on a table.\n He plays piano in his button down dress shirt and gray suit vest.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n What are they doing?\n\n DJANGO\n I think they wonderin' why you playin","to business. As Schultz and Gus discuss the\n bounties, Django reads the handbills aloud from off the wall. On the\n third one he reads, WARREN VANDERS, and a two thousand dollar bounty,\n \"That one\", Schultz says.\n Django RIPS IT off the wall.\n As the winter has progressed, we see they've become a genuine bounty\n hunting team. And Django, a genuine bounty hunter.\n\n EXT - PRETTY MEADO","done anything for Django, just to him. So\n understandably, he's a little suspicious.\n\n DJANGO\n Why you care what happens to me? Why you\n care if I find my wife?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well frankly, I've never given anybody\n their freedom before. And now that I have,\n I feel vaguely responsible for you. You're\n just not ready to go off on your own, it's\n that simple. You're too green, you'll get hurt",", is a understatement.\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Who are they?\n\n DJANGO\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\n little brother Raj.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Where's Ellis?\n\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Br","Z\n\n (GERMAN)\n Promise me you won't scream?\n She nods her head, yes.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n Say, I promise.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)\n I promise.\n Dr.Schultz moves to the door, and lightly raps on it.\n The door knob turns.\n The door slowly opens revealing...\n Her husband Django, but different, all cowboyed out and cleaned up",", cause we gotta us a fight\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\n\n C","DJANGO\n His son's with him.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Good. He'll have a loved one with him.\n Maybe even share a last word. That's\n better then most get, and a damn. sight\n better then he deserves.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1Ï¿½9\n Django still hesitates.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\n mad at you","He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\n Django is free.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind."," DJANGO\n I know what they look like, all right.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\n with me till we find them -\n\n DJANGO\n - Where we goin'?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\n That means we visit every plantation in\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\n find","Z\n Django.\n\n SPENCER\n Betina sugar, take Django around the\n grounds. Show 'em all the pretty stuff.\n\n BETINA\n As you please, Big Daddy.\n Dr.Schultz lowers his voice, and says to the plantation owner;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Mr. Bennett, I must remind, you, Django is a\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\n treated as an extension","finds Schultz's hidden DERRINGER, he keeps it in a\n holster around his ankle.\n As Timmy saddles the horses, he asks;\n\n TIMMY\n Do you feel bad for your friend?\n Django rises from the body of his friend.\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, \"I do.\n As Timmy saddles the horses he says;\n\n TIMMY\n I know just how ya feel. I lost a white\n friend once. He drowned in the",")\n He walks through hellfire because\n Broomhilda's worth. it.\n After that last line of dialogue... .the two men just let a moment pass\n as they nibble on their sandwiches.\n\n DJANGO\n I know how he feels.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I think I'm just starting to realize that.\n He pours Django and himself some more tea out of a fancy tea pot, as he\n thinks about what he's going to say next.\n Dr.SCH",", and walks-behind the bar, and pours two beer's\n from the tap into mugs. Django remains seated, and after a beat, asks;\n\n DJANGO\n What kinda dentist are you?\n This makes the doctor laugh, as he pours the beer's.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I haven't practiced dentistry in five years -\n Not to say once I know you better, I wouldn't\n like to get a look at that mouth - I'm sure\n it's a","\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Brittle riding his horse full out through the cotton field trying\n to make an escape.\n\n SCHULTZ'S WINCHESTER\n goes to his eye, he follows the rider with his rifle barrel.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Are you sure that's him?\n Ellis gets further away...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n DJ","The Basil Rathbone of House Niggers.\n The old Man watches the caravan and the trailing dust cloud approach.\n\n THEN...\n Out of the dust cloud ...EMERGE DJANGO and SCHULTZ... . on TONY and FRITZ.\n All the Candylanders see Django, dressed like he is, up on the horse,\n and for a moment don't know what to think.\n Lara Lee, like her brother, is both surprised and intrigued.\n As Stephen peers down from his perch at","What's everybody staring at?\n\n DJANGO\n They never seen a nigger on a horse before.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n What's this bizarre obsession they have\n with. you not riding horses?\n\n DJANGO\n You askin' me?\n Dr.Schultz stops Fritz in front of a saloon, and dismounts. Django has\n a little trouble both stopping Tony and getting off him, but it gets\n done. Dr.Schultz keeps bombarding The Slave with","\n a little trouble both stopping Tony and getting off him, but it gets\n done. Dr.Schultz keeps bombarding The Slave with questions.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n So what other archaic rituals are you people\n verboten to take part in?\n As per usual with this white man, Django thinks; \"What\"?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I'm just trying to get a clear idea on what\n you can do, and what you can't do, and if\n you can't do it"],[" CUT TO\n\n INT - GREENVILLE SLAVE AUCTION - DAY\n Back inside the three story Auction Block domed room.\n The same room Django was sold in at the beginning.\n Tons of WHITE BUYERS and SELLERS and BLACK SLAVES to be bought or sold\n fill the big hall.\n\n ONE MANDINGO SLAVE (BANJO)\n stands half naked on the auction block.\n The SELLER' (SHELBY)\n gives the crowd",", cause we gotta us a fight\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\n\n C","by hole to talk in the auction\n hall.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n How much do you know about mandingo fighting?\n\n DJANGO\n Not so much... A little... Master Carrucan had\n a couple niggers he'd fight.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Can you play a mandingo expert?\n\n DJANGO\n What?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Can you convincingly masquerade as someone\n who is an expert on mandingo fighters?\n\n DJ","ain't heard of Candyland.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\n and apparently the repellent gentleman down\n there is the one who owns her.\n\n ��` TIME CUT\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 6R\n The White Man and Black Man find a cubby hole to talk in the auction\n hall.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n How much do you know about mandingo fighting?\n","...\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\n Django, who expected nothing less and has seen worse, doesn't blink as\n the runaway slave is torn to bits by canine teeth ...\n The other Mandingos are scared sick at what they see.\n The Hillbilly Trackers root the dogs on.\n Dr.Schultz has never seen a man torn apart by dogs before, and he\n appears not to enjoy it.\n Calvin, without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Dr"," mandingo expert?\n\n DJANGO\n I'm curious, what makes you so curious?\n Bartholomew puts down his pool cue, and turns toward Django;\n\n BARTHOLOMEW\n What you say, boy?\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 77\n /�. Candie puts a calming hand on Bartholomew's shoulder.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Calm down Barth","Bartholomew (still dressed in\n the ill fitting suit), and the lanky sexy Sheba.\n Also, at this moment, TWO MANDINGOS are having a bloody and savage\n fight to death in this closed room.\n An older European looking man, who's rooting for the mandingo that\n Calvin's not rooting for, is also in the room. His name is.AMERIGO\n\n VASSEPI.\n Before any introductions can be made, with his back to the new arrivals\n ","AMERIGO\n\n VASSEPI.\n Before any introductions can be made, with his back to the new arrivals\n and his eyes on the black men fighting for their life, Calvin says;\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Why do you want to get in the mandingo\n business?\n That's quite abrupt and aggressive.\n Dr.Schultz says, as if he's just been massively insulted;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n You don't intend to allow your 2nd..."," ACE WOODY\n Good job, boy. Got any more wins in ya?\n\n BIG FRED\n Yes, sir.\n Ace gives Cody a slight head nod, and Cody SHOOTS Big Fred in the back.\n Candie acts out mock frustration.\n The remaining three mandingos jump a mile.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Now why did you do that?\n\n ACE WOODY\n He won his last fight last night.\n Ace puts his","\n\n ACE WOODY\n You got hope for his future?\n\n MOGUY\n I did.\n\n ACE WOODY\n Well I don't.\n Ace walks over to the slave in question.\n\n ACE WOODY\n What's your name, boy?\n The mandingo says;\n\n SIDNEY JAMES\n Sidney James, sir.\n\n ACE WOODY\n So long Sidney James.\n A","\n rolls his eyes and puts up with it, and\n all the white folks think it's so cute.\n Meanwhile you got all these niggas round\n here hoppin' and jumpin' to stay on your\n good side. Well this time Snowball, you\n gonna listen to me. You got anymore sass\n you wanna sling my way, before they give\n us a mandingo demonstration, I'm gonna\n give this whole motherfuckin plantation\n a demonstration, of ME beatin' the BLACK\n off your","SHEPHERD on a leash, the lead dog, that goes by the name of\n\n MARSHA.\n A runaway slave named, D'ARTAGNAN, lies belly down in the dirt,\n surrounded by the four vicious dogs, who BARK, GROWL, and SNAP at him.\n One look at D'Artagnan tells you he's a mandingo who's been in one\n fight too many. One of his eyes have been 'poked out. Big BITES have\n been bit out of both his face and","Calvin's and\n Stephen's life long friendship exits on a different plane. Outside of\n outside eyes, in this room, all pretense of master and slave is\n dropped, and the number one and number two.. men of Candyland can talk\n turkey.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What's the matter?\n\n STEPHEN\n Those motherfuckers ain't here to buy no\n mandingos. They want that girl. -\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n ","LeQuint\n Dickey, got it worse then that.\" Then they're,\n \"Let's whip 'em to death,\" \"Throw 'em to the\n mandingos,\" \"Feed 'em to Stonesipher's dogs.\"\n And then I say, \"What's so special 'bout that?\n We do that shit all the time. Hells bells,\n the niggers we send to LeQuint Dickey got it\n worse then that.\"\n He stops massaging Django's balls.\n\n ","pen till tomorrow.\n Brown with his horse, yells, chases, and herds the three men away into\n the slave pen.\n Ace yells from his horse down to the five new mandingo arrivals, Big\n Fred, Banjo, Sidney James, Tatum,.and Joshua.\n\n ACE WOODY\n Y'all stand over there and make a line!\n They do.\n Ace climbs down from off his horse.\n Cody stays in his saddle, circling the black men with his horse.\n","As the sun continues to beat down on Django's head, he remembers;\n\n DJANGO in the SLAVE PEN\n with what seems like a one hundred and fifty Slaves in a cell designed\n for forty.\n\n WHITE MEN yank him out. of the cell, shirtless, shoeless, and lead him\n down a hallway, into a giant round pen, an audience viewing area\n circles the round pen floor on three different stories of the\n structure.\n\n The ground floor is covered by the BIG MONEY BU","SCHULTZ\n Can you convincingly masquerade as someone\n who is an expert on mandingo fighters?\n\n DJANGO¢\n Why?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Because when a man has one of the four\n biggest cotton plantations in Dixie, but\n the only thing that seems to ring his chimes\n is big sweaty black males, if WE want to get\n his attention, we better be talking about\n big sweaty black males. So my character is\n that of a big money buyer",".\n Candie turns his attention back to Django.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO DJANGO)\n So Bright Boy,.Moguy here tells me you\n looked over my African flesh, and were\n none too impressed.\n\n FLASH ON\n we see. Django looking over THREE MANDINGOS..\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n BACK TO CLEO CLUB\n\n DJANGO\n Not for top dollar.\n","os, and the three\n old mandingos who know D'Artagnan.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Well I'll be, D'Artagnan. Now boy, why do\n a fool thing like run off?\n\n D'ARTAGNAN\n I can't fight no more, Monsieur Candie.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Oh yes you can. You might not be able to\n win, but your ass can fight. - Mr.Stonesipher,\n shut these",".\n Mr.STONESIPHER\n Marsha...git 'em!\n The other Trackers let loose of the leashes holding the German\n Shepherds back.\n The DOGS CHARGE towards D'Artagnan on his knees...\n\n THE MANDINGOS\n all react to the sight of the dogs being let loose.\n The DOGS ATTACK D'ARTAGNAN ...\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\n Django, who expected nothing"],["s lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he is the\n owner of Candyland.\n\n DJANGO\n Candyland? The mandingo fightin' place?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Oh, so you heard of it?\n\n DJANGO\n Ain't no slave ain't heard of Candyland.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\n ","lower then a black slaver. Black\n slavers are lower then head house niggers, and\n buddy, that's pretty fuckin low.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Then play him that way! Give me your black slaver.\n Django gets that.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Can you do that?\n\n DJANGO\n That, I can do. What's next?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n To get ourselves personally invited to\n Candyland by Calvin Candie himself.\n\n","drinks. They both take a\n sip. Schultz hates it, Django loves it.\n Candle turns his attention to Django.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What's your name, boy?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n His name is Django.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO SCHULTZ)\n Where'd ya dig him up?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n A fortuitous turn of events brought\n Django and myself together.","land as\n my guest.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Splendid.\n Django and Schultz trade looks and small smiles.\n\n WE CUT\n\n EXT - COUNTRY SIDE MISSISSIPPI - DAY\n It's the next day and a whole procession is making their way to\n \"Candyland.\"\n Calvin Candie, Leonide Moguy, Dr.Schultz, Django, and THREE OVERSEERS\n (BILLY CRASH, TOM","Ring Schultz, and\n Django Freeman, they're big customers with\n big pockets wanna buy a big nigger. So I\n brought 'em out here so you could give\n 'em a little display of our African flesh.\n Ace takes off his hat, bows from his horse, welcoming them.\n\n ACE WOODY\n Welcome to Candyland, gentlemen.\n Astride their horses Brown and Jingle Bells Cody just make faces at\n Django.\n Ace's attention goes to","I\n suppose I could be amenable to that.\n How far must we trek?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Oh hardly a ride at all, We'll still be\n in Chickasaw County. Five hours.. .tops.\n There you can get a look at my best\n specimens. Have dinner with my sister\n and I. Spend the night at Candyland as\n my guest.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Splendid.\n Django and Schultz trade looks","\n\n 1 30\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n We got it, let's go.\n\n (TO CANDIE)\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\n actually means is, till I see you again,\n and since I never wish to see you again,\n to",", and watches\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\n these two jokers (Django and Schultz) are up to something, and now he's\n just figured it out.\n\n INT - DINNER TABLE (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n You indicated earlier you would be\n willing to part with Hildi?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Yes siree bob I did.\n Dr.SCHULTZ","riders approach, he turns to\n Dr.Schultz and Django, and says;\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n You know since I started fightin' niggers\n about eleven years ago, it's been a new\n lease on'life. And the man ridin' up here\n now is the man responsible for all my\n success.\n Ace and his boys pull their horses up, kicking up dust.\n Through the dust Ace, Brown, and Jingle Bells Cody eyeball Django and\n Schult"," CALVIN CANDIE\n How ya like that meat, Bright Boy?\n Django's eyes go to Calvin, he nods his approval.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO COCO)\n How's your Catfish, dew drop?\n\n COCO\n Real good Monsieur Candie.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO SCHULTZ)\n You spend a lot of time around niggers\n aside from Freeman here?\n","next?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n To get ourselves personally invited to\n Candyland by Calvin Candie himself.\n\n CUT TO\n\n EXT - THE CLEOPATRA CLUB - NIGHT\n Dr.SCHULTZ and DJANGO stand across the street from The Cleopatra Club.\n Which looks like aregular nice three story house, among other.nice\n houses on an affluent residential block in Greenville Mississippi.\n They open the tiny garden gate in front of the house, walk up the stoop",".King Schultz, and this is my\n associate, Django Freeman.\n Upon hearing Django is a free man her eyes go to, him.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n We're here for a appointment with\n Calvin Candie and Leo Moguy.\n\n CLEO\n Yes you gentlemen are expected. Please\n make yourself comfortable. I'll inform\n Monsieur Candie you've arrived.\n (referring to the\n\n FRENCH MAID)\n Can Coco get"," DJANGO\n I know what they look like, all right.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\n with me till we find them -\n\n DJANGO\n - Where we goin'?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\n That means we visit every plantation in\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\n find","ieur Candie you've arrived.\n (referring to the\n\n FRENCH MAID)\n Can Coco get either of you two gentlemen\n a tasty refreshment?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Not at the moment.\n\n CLEO\n Then Coco will entertain you while I\n inform Monsieur Candie.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n How charming.\n Cleo leaves.\n Django wanders over the dining room, and peers inside.\n\n INT - DINING"," Ix?\n Stephen enters the dining room through the kitchen door, holding\n roughly in his grip, Broomhilda. He holds a small Derringer pistol\n against the side of her head.\n Django and Schultz react.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Now it should be quite clear by now I know\n you're not here to buy no mandingos.\n Reason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\n",".\n This gets Django's, Schultz's, and Candie's attention.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What's she doin' there?\n\n STEPHEN\n What 'cha think she doin' in The Hot Box,\n she bein punished.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What she do?\n\n STEPHEN\n She ran away again.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Jesus Christ, how many people ran away\n","\n Once he's in the stable, give 'em that.\n He reaches back in the saddle and pulls out another one.\n\n DJANGO\n Give that one to Fritz.\n Timmy leads the horses away.\n The two visitors start to follow Stephen to their rooms, when\n Dr.Schultz pretends to remember something;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Oh, Monsieur Candie, about that matter about\n the nigger girl we were talking about?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Nigger","ll show off some of\n my finer specimens.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Splendid.\n Both Dr.Schultz and Django climb down from their horses.\n Candie looks to a black little stable boy of about eight named TIMMY.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Timmy boy, go take their horses for 'em.\n Fix 'em up at the stable, give 'em a load\n of oats.\n Django hands the boy the reigns.\n\n DJAN","ason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\n to know how much you want 'er. So instead,\n you waste my time with all this Eskimo Joe\n horseshit.\n\n (TO STEPHEN)\n Stephen, put her in that chair.\n Stephen sits the young lady down in Moguy's old chair.\n With their palms against the table, unarmed, Django and Schultz\n silently watch Candie's","think so.\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Let's go.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\n before this German shakes my hand.\n Cut 'er down.\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ"],[" As Dr.Schultz calmly pours the young lady a glass of water, he begins\n talking to her in GERMAN SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n I'm aware you haven't spoken German in\n a long while. So I'll talk slowly.\n I'm only speaking German to you now,\n Broomhilda, in case Candie's people are\n listening to us. Myself and a mutual\n friend of ours, have gone","off nonplussed.\n\n INT - SCHULTZ'S GUEST ROOM (BIG HOUSE) - LATE AFTERNOON\n With the door closed, Schultz turns to the weak, frightened,\n disoriented girl.\n He gives her a pleasant smile.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n They call you Hildi, but your real name\n is Broomhilda, isn't it?\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Yes. How do you know that?\n Dr.SCHULTZ","Oh yes, I do believe you\n were just getting ready to make me a\n proposition to buy Broomhilda. Right?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Right.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (YELLING TO\n\n STEPHEN)\n Stephen! Bring out Hildi!\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n Ix?\n Stephen enters the dining room through the kitchen door, holding\n roughly in his grip, Broomhilda. He holds a",",with Hildi this\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1ZL\n His eyes to to Broomhilda.\n\n STEPHEN\n You, stay in the kitchen.\n Stephen moves to the kitchen door, swings it open, and watches\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\n these two jokers (D","was sold, you know where\n she came from, the Carrucan Plantation, and\n you know her name ... . what is her name?\n\n DJANGO\n Broomhilda.\n Schultz reacts.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Broomhilda?\n Django.nods his head yes.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Were her owners German?\n Now Django reacts, \"How did he know that?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, how did you know? She"," and sent over to Dr.Schultz's room.\n Stephen has to be the bearer of bad news.\n\n STEPHEN\n Actually... . Monsieur Candie... . there's\n somethin' we ain't tole you yet.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What?\n\n STEPHEN\n Hildi's in The Hot Box.\n This gets Django's, Schultz's, and Candie's attention.\n\n CALVIN CAN",", and watches\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\n these two jokers (Django and Schultz) are up to something, and now he's\n just figured it out.\n\n INT - DINNER TABLE (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n You indicated earlier you would be\n willing to part with Hildi?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Yes siree bob I did.\n Dr.SCHULTZ",", when she was little her mistress taught\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n So let me get this straight, your slave\n wife speaks German, and her name is\n Broomhilda Von Shaft...?\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n DJANGO\n Yep. Mouthful, huh?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n To say the least.\n (stopping the horse)\n This looks like a very","\n\n 1 30\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n We got it, let's go.\n\n (TO CANDIE)\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\n actually means is, till I see you again,\n and since I never wish to see you again,\n to","Z\n\n (GERMAN)\n Promise me you won't scream?\n She nods her head, yes.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (GERMAN)\n Say, I promise.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (GERMAN)\n I promise.\n Dr.Schultz moves to the door, and lightly raps on it.\n The door knob turns.\n The door slowly opens revealing...\n Her husband Django, but different, all cowboyed out and cleaned up","GO\n Sure.\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\n\n SCHULTZ SAYS;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n So your plan is to trackdowri your wife, and\n purchase her.freedom? Only you don't know\n where she is?\n A chewing Django nods his head, yes.\n Dr.Schultz, takes a big bite of jerky, chews for a \"moment contemplating\n the d","arm from.his eyes.\n\n DJANGO\n He ain't tellin' nobody 'bout that.\n That's all that needs to be said.\n\n INT - HALLWAY (BIG HOUSE) - DAY\n Lara Lee, Cora, and a traumatized, but cleaned up (she's dressed in a\n domestic maid uniform) Broomhilda stand outside Dr.Schultz's door,\n after Calvin's sister raps on it.\n Dr.Schultz opens the door.","off, we catch your ass an' drag you back.\n Then we stick your bare ass to sizzle in\n The Hot Box for' 'bout ten hours. Now here\n you are two days later, whistlin' while you\n work. I'm just sayin', I.wouldn' think you'd\n have a hellva lot to whistle 'bout.\n .I'm jus' sayin'.\n He watches the effect his words have on Broomhilda's face.\n\n BROOMHILDA","ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives","and he puts a\n fire breathing dragon there to guard the mountain.\n And. then he surrounds her in circle of hellfire.\n And there Broomhilda shall remain, unless a hero\n arises brave enough to save her.\n\n DJANGO\n Does a fella arise?\n From now on as Dr.Schultz talks, he's beginning to realize something he\n wasn't aware of when the conversation started.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\n named","his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives, is a man with\n a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with\n a good plan. So, having said that, what's\n your plan, young Django?\n\n DJANGO\n What'cha mean?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\n","think so.\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Let's go.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\n before this German shakes my hand.\n Cut 'er down.\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ",".\n Broomhilda goes to Calvin.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Can I take away your dishes, Monsieur Candle?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Yes you may, Hildi.\n She begins gathering the dirty dishes.\n Candie looks up at her as she works.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n So Hildi, how you like servin at the big\n table in the big house?\n\n BROOMHILDA\n I like it a",".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\n\n FADE TO BLACK\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\n The C","of DOMESTIC SLAVES acting as wait service.\n Knowing Django's a slaver, and for his dinner table privileges, the\n Domestic Slaves despise Django.\n Even Broomhilda will be shocked to hear him speak like a slaver, even\n though they obviously gave her a heads up on their masquerade.\n We pick up the conversation in mid-negotiation.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \"5.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n "],["ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives",".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\n\n FADE TO BLACK\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\n The C","CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n falls to the floor.\n Everybody is stunned.\n Schultz looks to Django.\n Django looks back.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (TO DJANGO)\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room","his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives, is a man with\n a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with\n a good plan. So, having said that, what's\n your plan, young Django?\n\n DJANGO\n What'cha mean?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\n","GO\n Sure.\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\n\n SCHULTZ SAYS;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n So your plan is to trackdowri your wife, and\n purchase her.freedom? Only you don't know\n where she is?\n A chewing Django nods his head, yes.\n Dr.Schultz, takes a big bite of jerky, chews for a \"moment contemplating\n the d","\n Django goes to stop him...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1 714\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\n\n POP!\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n "," and sent over to Dr.Schultz's room.\n Stephen has to be the bearer of bad news.\n\n STEPHEN\n Actually... . Monsieur Candie... . there's\n somethin' we ain't tole you yet.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What?\n\n STEPHEN\n Hildi's in The Hot Box.\n This gets Django's, Schultz's, and Candie's attention.\n\n CALVIN CAN"," blowing the limbs off of many of them.\n The LAWN is SILENT.\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\n ","\n\n 1 30\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n We got it, let's go.\n\n (TO CANDIE)\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\n actually means is, till I see you again,\n and since I never wish to see you again,\n to","on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\n Dicky lets out a bitch like scream.\n The Slaves watch all this. They've never seen a white man kill another\n white man before.\n Dicky is pinned down under his ole paint.\n Django watches in the dark, the German climb down off his horse,\n pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Sorry about",", is a understatement.\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Who are they?\n\n DJANGO\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\n little brother Raj.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Where's Ellis?\n\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Br"," DJANGO\n I know what they look like, all right.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\n with me till we find them -\n\n DJANGO\n - Where we goin'?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\n That means we visit every plantation in\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\n find","He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\n Django is free.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.","Candyland grounds. Django goes\n straight up to the stall housing Tony and says hello. Tony's happy to\n see him. Django feeds him an apple he picked along the way for him.\n He turns and sees the body of Dr.Schultz lying in a heap.\n And Schultz's horse Fritz in the stable.\n\n DJANGO\n Saddle up Fritz and Tony.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n Timmy just stares.\n\n DJ",", who's sure his new master is a lunatic\n who's going to get them both killed, peeks out the closed curtains\n on the window.\n Dr.Schultz's suit coat sits draped over a chair. All of his weapons,\n including his metal sliding rail Derringer contraption, lie on a table.\n He plays piano in his button down dress shirt and gray suit vest.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n What are they doing?\n\n DJANGO\n I think they wonderin' why you playin","think so.\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Let's go.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\n before this German shakes my hand.\n Cut 'er down.\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ","hen.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n L,\n He fires.\n The Camp EXPLODES Blowing Horses and Riders Apart.\n Dr.Schultz and Django lift up repeating rifles.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Let 'em have it!\n\n DJANGO\n I can't see nothin'.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Just fire into the smoke.\n The two treetop killers let loose with rifle fire.","to business. As Schultz and Gus discuss the\n bounties, Django reads the handbills aloud from off the wall. On the\n third one he reads, WARREN VANDERS, and a two thousand dollar bounty,\n \"That one\", Schultz says.\n Django RIPS IT off the wall.\n As the winter has progressed, we see they've become a genuine bounty\n hunting team. And Django, a genuine bounty hunter.\n\n EXT - PRETTY MEADO","PING\n LITTLE RAJ across the face and chest.\n MORE SLAVES gather.\n\n DJANGO WHIPS HIM TO THE GROUND\n whips him on the ground, then throws the whip to the ground, picks\n Roger's pistol off the ground, and empties it (FIVE SHOTS) into Roger.\n To say the slaves are flabbergasted, is a understatement.\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\n Django,",", 8\n\n DOWN BELOW WE SEE\n A LITTLE MAN struggling behind a plow, and his FIFTEEN YEAR OLD SON\n helping him by leading the horse forward.\n On top of their perch on the hill top, Dr.Schultz says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Keep down or he'll see you.\n\n DJANGO\n Who that farmer? Who cares?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well since we came here to kill 'em, he\n "],["CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n falls to the floor.\n Everybody is stunned.\n Schultz looks to Django.\n Django looks back.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (TO DJANGO)\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room","A LEE, CODY, and MOGUY.\n DJANGO sees this.\n The Black Man reaches behind him and comes out with a DYNAMITE STICK.\n He tosses it on the grass among the bodies.\n He takes aim with his pistol; and FIRES.\n It EXPLODES.\n Finishing off what was left of the Candie Family Unit, not to mention,\n blowing the limbs off of many of them.\n The LAWN is SILENT.\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes","\n Django goes to stop him...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1 714\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\n\n POP!\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n "," blowing the limbs off of many of them.\n The LAWN is SILENT.\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\n ",".\n Calvin...BLINK...\n Saying nothing, Monsieur Candie turns his back to Django, climbs up on\n his horse, then looks at the black man.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Follow me.\n The whole caravan rides off as the dogs continue to tear D'Artagnan\n apart.\n\n EXT - THE GROUNDS OF CANDYLAND - DAY\n The caravan starts to approach Candyland. Calvin Candie and his sister\n own the fourth biggest cotton","\n goodbye to Miss Lara. Miss Lara makes a big show of saying goodbye to\n them.\n A little cognizant of the Candie Family unit begin the walk off the\n hill back to the big house.\n\n EXT - BILLY CRASH'S SHACK - NIGHT\n Django with Broomhilda. Billy Crash lies dead in the B.G., Stonesipher's\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\n\n DJANGO\n Here's","standing next to him.\n Sidney James rolls in the dirt, screaming and holding his bleeding gut.\n Till Cody puts a bullet in his head, putting him out of his misery.\n Moguy, shakes his head, \"Typical,\" he thinks.\n Django and Schultz, on their horses next. to Candid, watch.\n Ace looks up at his boss.\n\n ACE WOODY\n Boss Candie, which one did you buy?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Well","SHIP\n to Dr.Schultz.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (SMILING)\n You know what they're going to call you,\n my boy? \"The fastest gun in the South.\"\n\n BACK TO SHOWDOWN\n DJANGO stands on the top steps of what's left of'The Big House, looking\n down at The Candie Family Unit, who all lay dead or dying on the\n Candyland front lawn.\n The WITNESSES can't fathom what they'","WITH THE HAMMER TO keep him down for good.\n The Trackers are all dead.\n Only the dogs mad barking remains.\n EXT - The FUNERAL - NIGHT\n The Funeral for Calvin Candie is underway. The Preacher reads some\n words over him.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n EXT - TRACKER SHACK - NIGHT\n Django, half naked, splattered with blood from the axe murders, steps\n out of the shack. He","...\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\n Django, who expected nothing less and has seen worse, doesn't blink as\n the runaway slave is torn to bits by canine teeth ...\n The other Mandingos are scared sick at what they see.\n The Hillbilly Trackers root the dogs on.\n Dr.Schultz has never seen a man torn apart by dogs before, and he\n appears not to enjoy it.\n Calvin, without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Dr","\n Roscoe makes the drinks in coconut shell glasses.\n Big Fred kills Luigi.\n Candie and his friends cheer.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Arrivederci Luigi! Well, Mr.Vassepi, looks\n like you owe me ten dollars.\n Amerigo pays up the puny bet.\n Django and Schultz get the fancy coconut shell drinks. They both take a\n sip. Schultz hates it, Django loves it.\n Candle turns his attention to Django",".\n Mr.STONESIPHER\n Marsha...git 'em!\n The other Trackers let loose of the leashes holding the German\n Shepherds back.\n The DOGS CHARGE towards D'Artagnan on his knees...\n\n THE MANDINGOS\n all react to the sight of the dogs being let loose.\n The DOGS ATTACK D'ARTAGNAN ...\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\n Django, who expected nothing","unarmed) Calvin Candie's two prized mandingos,\n wearing suits they borrowed from Bartholomew..\n This CANDIE FAMILY UNIT walk to The Big House for a few post funeral\n drinks.\n They enter the lawn in front of The Big House, and head for the front\n door.\n Broomhilda on Fritz and Timmy riding on Tony come along the side of the\n property by some shed. They see The Candie Family Unit, all dressed in\n their darkest finery, walking towards the","on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\n Dicky lets out a bitch like scream.\n The Slaves watch all this. They've never seen a white man kill another\n white man before.\n Dicky is pinned down under his ole paint.\n Django watches in the dark, the German climb down off his horse,\n pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Sorry about","ason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\n to know how much you want 'er. So instead,\n you waste my time with all this Eskimo Joe\n horseshit.\n\n (TO STEPHEN)\n Stephen, put her in that chair.\n Stephen sits the young lady down in Moguy's old chair.\n With their palms against the table, unarmed, Django and Schultz\n silently watch Candie's","\n CALVIN CANDIE\n All three are champions.\n Django contradicts, as he chews his steak;\n\n DJANGO\n Samson's the champion. The other two\n are pretty good.\n All the Domestic Slaves around the table STIFFEN at witnessing Django\n contradict Calvin Candie.\n Including Broomhilda, who's wielding the Gravy Boat. After Django says\n that, while in shock, she over pours beef gravy on L","with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\n You really want me to shake your hand?\n Django gets it.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n I insist.\n\n DR\n -Schultz smiles.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well, if you insist.\n Django goes to stop him...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1 7"," That was actually kind of funny. Broomhilda was right, all he needed\n was a little confidence. She puts her hand on his.\n\n NARRATOR (VO)\n Then... speak of the devil and the devil\n appears.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n appears at their table.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Hello, my name is Calvin Candie, I own\n The Cleopatra Club. And I would just like\n to welcome an attractive couple'like\n yourselves to","And when I pay five\n hundred dollars, I expect to get five\n fights outta a nigga 'fore he roll over\n and play dead. You've fought three fights.\n\n D'ARTAGNAN\n I won every one.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Well, yes you did. But that last one, you\n muddied the line between winning and losing.\n Calvin climbs down off of his horse, and walks to the captured runaway\n on the ground.\n\n CALV","lock on the\n cage door.\n He looks at the three men, especially Rodney, then says;\n\n DJANGO\n Throw up that dynamite.\n Rodney grabs a saddle bag full of dynamite and tosses it to Django on\n his Horse.\n Django wraps it around the Horse's neck, turns the beast around, and\n without saying another word, rides back in the direction of Candyland.\n The Three NOW FREE Mandingos, watch him ride away.\n \"Who was that nigger?\""],["CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n falls to the floor.\n Everybody is stunned.\n Schultz looks to Django.\n Django looks back.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (TO DJANGO)\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room","CANDIE\n Quit stalling and answer the question.\n The room is quiet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n The awful truth?\n\n (PAUSE)\n I'm bored, and it seems like a good\n bit of fun.\n Candie takes that to heart. He'll accept it for now.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Well come on over, cause we gotta us a fight\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get","ultz considers'Calvin Candie's words, then suddenly says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n You know Monsieur Candie... . you do possess\n the power of persuasion.\n Candie smiles at that remark.\n Then SUDDENLY Schultz SLAPS the table hard with his hand, and says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Why not! Monsieur Candie, you have a deal,\n Eskimo Joe, twelve thousand dollars!\n The White people at the table get very happy.\n Dr.Sch","you are a\n neophyte. I'm simply trying to ascertain\n if this cowboy is taking advantage of you.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n With all due respect, Monsieur Candie, I\n didn't seek you out for your advice. I\n sought you out to purchase a fighting\n nigger at above top dollar market price.\n I was'under the impression when you\n granted me an audience, it would be to\n discuss business.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n No we weren't","think so.\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Let's go.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\n before this German shakes my hand.\n Cut 'er down.\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ","a whole lotta trouble,\n and done spread a whole lotta bull, to\n purchase the lovely lady to my left, it would\n appear that Broomhilda is, \"The Right Nigger.\"\n And if y'all wanna leave Candyland with\n Broomhilda, the price is twelve thousand dollars.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I take it you prefer the take it or leave\n it style of negotiating.\n Candie continuing to hold the hammer continues.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Under the laws","\n \n\n IN\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n And if you think my price for this nigger\n is too steep, what I'm gonna desire to do\n is, take this hammer and beat her ass to\n death with it. Right in front of both y'all.\n He SMASHES the arm rest of the chair Broomhilda's sitting in.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Put up or shut up, Schultz. You wanna save\n this nigger bitch,","\n Django goes to stop him...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1 714\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\n\n POP!\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n ","S\n /-. watch Calvin Candie from up above on the 2nd floor landing.\n FROM Dr.SCHULTZ'S PERSPECTIVE\n We see Calvin Candie, and his black slave.bodyguard, BARTHOLOMEW,\n always dressed in a slightly ill fitting three piece suit and bowler\n hat, among the crowd of buyers at the auction block below.\n Candie's lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he","ason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\n to know how much you want 'er. So instead,\n you waste my time with all this Eskimo Joe\n horseshit.\n\n (TO STEPHEN)\n Stephen, put her in that chair.\n Stephen sits the young lady down in Moguy's old chair.\n With their palms against the table, unarmed, Django and Schultz\n silently watch Candie's","he's just been massively insulted;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n You don't intend to allow your 2nd...\n (referring to Moguy)\n .to make the proper introductions?\n Without turning towards them, Candie tells Schultz;\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 7S\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Quit stalling and answer the question.\n The room is quiet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n The","\n\n 1 30\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n We got it, let's go.\n\n (TO CANDIE)\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\n actually means is, till I see you again,\n and since I never wish to see you again,\n to","E\n\n (TO SCHULTZ)\n You spend a lot of time around niggers\n aside from Freeman here?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Not so much.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Well if'in you did,.you'd know what a\n treat this was for 'em. You feel special\n Coco?\n\n COCO\n Yes. sir, Monsieur Candie.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n You feel special Bartholomew?\n","...\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\n Django, who expected nothing less and has seen worse, doesn't blink as\n the runaway slave is torn to bits by canine teeth ...\n The other Mandingos are scared sick at what they see.\n The Hillbilly Trackers root the dogs on.\n Dr.Schultz has never seen a man torn apart by dogs before, and he\n appears not to enjoy it.\n Calvin, without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Dr"," CALVIN CANDIE\n How ya like that meat, Bright Boy?\n Django's eyes go to Calvin, he nods his approval.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO COCO)\n How's your Catfish, dew drop?\n\n COCO\n Real good Monsieur Candie.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO SCHULTZ)\n You spend a lot of time around niggers\n aside from Freeman here?\n","with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\n You really want me to shake your hand?\n Django gets it.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n I insist.\n\n DR\n -Schultz smiles.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well, if you insist.\n Django goes to stop him...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1 7","seen, I can only be\n so interested.\n\n SUDDENLY ...\n Calvin Candie comes riding up behind them...\n\n CALVIN CANDLE\n Am I intruding?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Of course not.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (APPRAISING THE\n\n TWO MEN)\n I swear you two are cozier then a couple\n of cuttle fish.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n You'd be surprised",", cause we gotta us a fight\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\n\n C","\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Stephen, you just interrupted Dr.Schultz.\n\n STEPHEN\n (to Dr.Schultz)\n Oh, I do apologize, doctor. My hearin'\n ain't worth a damn these days.\n\n (TO CANDIE)\n Monsieur Candie, I need a word with you in\n the kitchen.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n What, you mean get outta my chair?\n\n STEPHEN\n If",",with Hildi this\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1ZL\n His eyes to to Broomhilda.\n\n STEPHEN\n You, stay in the kitchen.\n Stephen moves to the kitchen door, swings it open, and watches\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\n these two jokers (D"],["\n Stephen lying on the floor, bites his tongue.\n\n DJANGO\n That's what I thought. Now git outta\"here.\n With as much dignity as he can muster, Stephen stands up.\n Before he leaves, Django tells him;,\n\n DJANGO\n When I ring this bell, you better come\n a runnin'. You - not nobody else. While\n I'm on this property, you my nigger\n Snowball.\n Stephen leaves.\n Django lies down on the bed","ANGE END OF THE POKER hard against Django's BARE\n buttocks.\n Django SCREAMS!\n Stephen LAUGHS.\n Stephen walks away and sticks the poker back in the fire. He goes\n through Django's clothes and pulls out his tan pants. He tosses them on\n the floor by the hanging man.\n\n STEPHEN\n You leavin', that's what you can take\n with you.\n Stephen walks over to the hanging upside down man, and as he talks to\n ","-LING\n\n STEPHEN\n\n (UNAMUSED)\n What 'cha want?\n\n DJANGO\n I want you to pour some water in that\n bowl for my wash up.\n Stephen does what he's told, but with attitude.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n )O'\n Django shuts the guest room door so the two men are alone.\n Once Stephen's done, Django stands up from the bed.\n\n DJAN","05\n\n STEPHEN\n This one's yours, boy. That bed's damn\n nice too.\n Django walks over to the window, parts the curtains and peers out.\n Broomhilda's gone. As he looks through the glass, snotty Stephen\n rattles on in the background.\n\n STEPHEN\n Feel free to touch anything you want,\n cause we burnin' all this shit once you\n gone. I'll have somebody knock on the\n door when the demonstration ready.","\n On the count of three.\n\n DJANGO SCREAMS:\n\n DJANGO\n\n NO!!!!\n\n ACE WOODY\n\n ONE ...\n\n DJANGO\n\n NO DON'T DO IT!!!!!\n\n ACE WOODY\n Got to do it, boy. TWO...\n\n DJANGO\n\n NO!!!! !\n Just then Stephen appears in the entrance of the barn/blacksmith\n facility. He's holding Django's","that's what you can take\n with you.\n Stephen walks over to the hanging upside down man, and as he talks to\n him, he begins fondling Django's genitals.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n I31\n\n STEPHEN\n Now you were quite the topic of conversation\n for the last few hours. Seemed like folks\n never had a bright idea in their life, was\n comin' up with different ways to kill your\n ASS. Now most of","\n NO!!!! !\n Just then Stephen appears in the entrance of the barn/blacksmith\n facility. He's holding Django's clothes in a bundle under his arm.\n\n STEPHEN\n Cap't, Miss Lara lookin' for you. She wanna\n talk about the Old Man's funeral.\n Oh, and she changed her mind 'bout snippin'\n Django. She gonna give 'em to the LeQuint\n Dickey people.\n While still keeping a firm grip on Django's'j","Django, and follows Broomhilda behind\n the kitchen door.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 121\n\n INT - KITCHEN (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\n In the kitchen with the OTHER DOMESTICS, Stephen says to Broomhilda;\n\n STEPHEN\n I thought you said you didn't know him?\n Broomhilda turns around.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Huh?\n Stephen approaches her,",", when I say stop you plant roots.\n Both the words and the tone stop Stephen dead. He turns around.\n\n DJANGO\n This tiny bell on this little table...\n .is this for you? I ring this, you\n do fer me?\n\n STEPHEN\n Me or somebody.\n Django reaches over and picks up the bell.\n (a soft) DING-A-LING\n\n STEPHEN\n\n (UNAMUSED)\n What 'cha want?\n\n DJAN"," cause we burnin' all this shit once you\n gone. I'll have somebody knock on the\n door when the demonstration ready.\n Django sits down on the bed.\n Stephen turns to leave.\n\n DJANGO\n Not so fast.\n\n STEPHEN\n I got more important things to do then\n jaw with you.\n\n DJANGO\n Nigger, when I say stop you plant roots.\n Both the words and the tone stop Stephen dead. He turns around.\n\n DJANGO","funny. Django's a Freeman.\n Stephen jerks a thumb up towards Django.\n\n STEPHEN\n This nigger, here?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n That nigger there. Let me at least introduce\n the two of. you. Django, this is another\n cheeky black bugger like yourself, Stephen.\n Stephen, this is Django. You two should\n hate each other.\n Stephen uses'the special privilege he and he alone enjoys amongst the\n blacks at Candyland."," blowing the limbs off of many of them.\n The LAWN is SILENT.\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\n "," Whatsamatter Stephen, you don't like\n that?\n Django takes his hand and SLAPS the old man hard across the face\n knocking him to the floor;\n\n DJANGO\n That's my kinda bell ringin'. Git up.\n The old man timidly, slowly, and shaky rises off the floor - as soon as\n he does - Django SLAPS HIM TO THE FLOOR again.\n Then Django sits back down on the bed, looking at the old man on the\n floor","you are, you always know the end is near\n 'fore the white folks.\n With the ORANGE HOT poker, he BURNS OFF Django's other NIPPLE.\n The smell of burned flesh smokes in the air. Stephen makes a show of\n breathing it in his nostrils.\n\n STEPHEN\n Damn Nigger, you smell good.\n He walks behind Django with the poker.\n\n STEPHEN\n You know, when you was sittin' on that feather\n bed in",", Stephen goes over to a big fiery furnace in the\n blacksmith barn, and begins poking a LONG POKER which lies buried in\n the fire.\n Django's clothes are dumped by the furnace.\n\n ACE WOODY\n You gonna look after our friend?\n As, he plays with the poker in the fire, he says;\n\n STEPHEN\n Oh yes sirree Bob, you know I am!\n 01' Snowball and a certain naked ass\n upside down nigger we","door, and leads him in.\n\n INT - DJANGO'S GUEST ROOM - DAY\n A guest room with a big feather bed, dresser drawer with a flowery\n pitcher of water and basin on top of it. A little bedside table with a\n lamp and a tiny bell on it.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 105\n\n STEPHEN\n This one's yours, boy. That bed's damn\n nice too.\n D","137\n\n STEPHEN\n\n (BEAT)\n And that's where you met me. And that's when\n you knew your goose was cooked.\n He TOUCHES Django's NIPPLE with the ORANGE HOT TIP of the poker.\n Unlike a lot of movie hero's, Django doesn't take torture silently and\n stoically. This shit fucking hurts, so you best believe he screams his\n fucking ass off, and twists in agony when he gets touched by","jango with the poker.\n\n STEPHEN\n You know, when you was sittin' on that feather\n bed in the quest room in the Big House -\n After you slapped my ass to the floor\n You were sayin' something 'bout my BARE BLACK\n ass, and how you were gonna BUST IT.\n Remember that, Bright Boy?\n He places the HOT ORANGE END OF THE POKER hard against Django's BARE\n buttocks.\n Django SCREAMS!\n ","t no one wanna see her whipped up back.\n Django continues to watching this play out.\n Stephen watches him.\n Candie folds.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Okay okay Lara. Maybe after dinner.\n During the brandies.\n Broomhilda - dismissed - takes Calvin's dishes and heads back into the\n kitchen.\n Stephen takes one more look at Django, and follows Broomhilda behind\n the kitchen door.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n ","a, Bartholomew, Samson, and Goldie begin taking ten\n steps away from the White Folks and the gunfight.\n LARA LEE can't believe Cora's leaving her.\n CORA is \"I'm sorry Miss Lara, but I never did nuttin' to that nigger.\"\n DJANGO looks to STEPHEN, and takes Schultz's hidden Derringer out of\n his pocket.\n\n DJANGO\n\n (TO STEPHEN)\n Let'"],["me.\n\n DJANGO\n Better not.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n You won't.\n\n DJANGO\n\n (SMILING)\n Better not.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (SMILING)\n You won't.\n They kiss.\n Then, astride Tony, Django leaves Candyland having rescued his\n Broomhilda from her Mountain, her Ring of Hellfire, and all her\n Dragons.\n\n\n","\n goodbye to Miss Lara. Miss Lara makes a big show of saying goodbye to\n them.\n A little cognizant of the Candie Family unit begin the walk off the\n hill back to the big house.\n\n EXT - BILLY CRASH'S SHACK - NIGHT\n Django with Broomhilda. Billy Crash lies dead in the B.G., Stonesipher's\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\n\n DJANGO\n Here's","lock on the\n cage door.\n He looks at the three men, especially Rodney, then says;\n\n DJANGO\n Throw up that dynamite.\n Rodney grabs a saddle bag full of dynamite and tosses it to Django on\n his Horse.\n Django wraps it around the Horse's neck, turns the beast around, and\n without saying another word, rides back in the direction of Candyland.\n The Three NOW FREE Mandingos, watch him ride away.\n \"Who was that nigger?\"","He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\n Django is free.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.","can still\n ride, high tail it the fuck out of there. Whipped and whimpering like\n dogs.\n\n SPENCER BENNETT\n on his horse with the other fleeing regulators RIDES for his life...\n\n SCOPE SIGHT POV\n We see the back of the fleeing Bennett smack dab in the cross hairs.\n\n DJANGO\n scope sight rifle up to his eye.\n Schultz next to him, says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n He's","to Timmy.\n\n DJANGO\n That's for you. Good luck Tim.\n (he points to\n the Northern Sky)\n The North star, is that one.\n He looks to Broomhilda on Fritz.\n\n DJANGO\n You gonna hafta keep up, ya know?\n\n BROOMHILDA\n You won't wait for me.\n\n DJANGO\n Better not.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n You won't.\n"," putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\n As he,walks up to Broomhilda on Fritz, he says;\n\n DJANGO\n Hey Little Trouble Maker.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Hey Big Trouble Maker.\n\n DJANGO\n Down, boy.\n Timmy hops off of Tony.\n Django climbs aboard Tony. He says to Broomhilda;\n","wrapped around his waist.\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine company beast,\n and climbs aboard him bareback.\n He leans over and snatches the RIFLE that Floyd kept on the wagon seat\n next to him.\n Grabbing a fistful of the horses mane, he digs his heels into the\n beast's side. The pack animals SPRINGS TO LIFE under the new rider. By\n now it should be apparent that Django brings"," blowing the limbs off of many of them.\n The LAWN is SILENT.\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\n ",", is a understatement.\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Who are they?\n\n DJANGO\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\n little brother Raj.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Where's Ellis?\n\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Br","Monsieur\n Candie think it real nice.\n\n LARA LEE\n Ah, bless you sweet innocent Cora.\n\n WE CROSS CUT WITH SHOTS\n of Django RIDING THE HORSE on the way back to Candyland. The bare\n backed black man riding the horse bareback, holding the RIFLE in one\n hand, a fistful of the horses mane in the other, hauling ass against a\n gorgeous SUNSET SKY, looks like an Indian.\n\n EXT - TRACK"," The Menfolk of the town with rifles, begin trading looks. Then\n Dr.Schultz delivers the coup de grace.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n In other words marshall, you owe me\n two hundred dollars.\n\n CUT TO\n\n EXT - TENNESSEE COUNTRY ROAD - DAY\n Django and Dr.Schultz, who by now have ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Sch","SHIP\n to Dr.Schultz.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (SMILING)\n You know what they're going to call you,\n my boy? \"The fastest gun in the South.\"\n\n BACK TO SHOWDOWN\n DJANGO stands on the top steps of what's left of'The Big House, looking\n down at The Candie Family Unit, who all lay dead or dying on the\n Candyland front lawn.\n The WITNESSES can't fathom what they'","\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\n\n DJANGO\n Here's your bill of sale, and freedom papers.\n No matter what happens to me, hold on to these\n and get out of the south.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n What's gonna happen to you?\n\n DJANGO\n Ain't nuttin' gonna happen to me honey,\n I'm just sayin'. Now go to the stable, little\n Timmy's","back up, and puts it back in his purse.\n\n DJANGO\n Where's the other two?\n\n BETINA.\n They by the stable, punishin' Little Jody\n for breakin' eggs.\n\n DJANGO\n They whippin' Little Jody?\n She nods her head, yes.\n\n DJANGO\n Point me in that direction.\n She points to a shed, and keeps pointing right.\n\n BETINA\n You go to that","I've always been\n sweet on you. I don't wanna bust your ass.\n So don't make me! Now I'm gonna go shit.\n You calm down.\n He exits the shack to go the outhouse, leaving Broomhilda alone.\n WE MOVE INTO A CLOSE UP OF BROOMHILDA lying on the bed. She cries for\n Django, she cries for herself...\n\n .THEN...\n She HEARS an IMPACT SOUND, and a MUFF","A LEE, CODY, and MOGUY.\n DJANGO sees this.\n The Black Man reaches behind him and comes out with a DYNAMITE STICK.\n He tosses it on the grass among the bodies.\n He takes aim with his pistol; and FIRES.\n It EXPLODES.\n Finishing off what was left of the Candie Family Unit, not to mention,\n blowing the limbs off of many of them.\n The LAWN is SILENT.\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes","ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives","- NIGHT\n Django throws the pot of poisoned beef stew over the top of the kennel.\n It lands on the ground with a PLOP.\n The Angry Dogs, are nevertheless', still dogs, and greedily scarf up\n the stew.\n Django watches them wolf down their ultimate agony with a smile.\n\n DJANGO\n You bit your last nigger, bitch? Bite on that.\n Django lifts Timmy up on to the bare backed wagon horse.\n\n DJANGO\n",".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\n\n FADE TO BLACK\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\n The C"],[" DJANGO\n I know what they look like, all right.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\n with me till we find them -\n\n DJANGO\n - Where we goin'?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\n That means we visit every plantation in\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\n find","t be anywhere in Mississippi.\n\n DJANGO\n She's my wife, it's my job to look after her.\n If Greenville's where I gotta go to find out\n where she went, then I gotta go. Now you\n were sayin' where I gotta go first?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n There'should be some sort of records office.\n You know when she was sold, you know where\n she came from, the Carrucan Plantation, and\n you know her name ... . what is her name"," Impromptu slave auctions take place on almost every block.\n A SUBTITLE APPEARS on the bottom of the screen:\n\n GREENVILLE\n\n CHICKASAW COUNTY, MISSISSIPPI\n Dr.Schultz takes in this African flesh market, where human beings sell\n other human beings, with disgust and a little bit of shock.\n Django is neither disgusted or. shocked, he knows first hand how\n Greenville operates.\n As he rides Tony through town in his snappy","oves, and wagon wheels, and slave feet\n have to wade through to get from one end of the town to the other.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 53\n We see Django and Dr.Schultz enter the town, and slosh their horses in\n the mud,, down the main street of Greenville Mississippi. The buying and\n selling of slaves is what the whole town is built around.\n BLACK MEN, WOMEN, and CHILDREN in BONDAGE are everywhere you look","\n Now Django reacts, \"How did he know that?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, how did you know? She wasn't born on\n The Carrucan Plantation. She was raised by\n a German mistress, The Von Shafts. She can\n speak a little German too.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Your wife?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, when she was little her mistress taught\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n","land as\n my guest.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Splendid.\n Django and Schultz trade looks and small smiles.\n\n WE CUT\n\n EXT - COUNTRY SIDE MISSISSIPPI - DAY\n It's the next day and a whole procession is making their way to\n \"Candyland.\"\n Calvin Candie, Leonide Moguy, Dr.Schultz, Django, and THREE OVERSEERS\n (BILLY CRASH, TOM","\n I'm on this property, you my nigger\n Snowball.\n Stephen leaves.\n Django lies down on the bed. He covers his eyes with his arm.\n A door joins Django and Schultz's room. The adjoining door opens, and\n Schultz stands there.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Was that wise?\n Django doesn't remove his arm from.his eyes.\n\n DJANGO\n He ain't tellin' nobody 'bout that.\n That'","\n As the citizens of Daughtrey wake up, Django and Dr.Schultz ride Fritz\n and Tony through the main street of town..Daughtrey looks like a\n million western towns we've seen before in movies. But to the\n TOWNSPEOPLE of Daughtrey, Django and the German don't look like a\n million other visitors.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n What's everybody staring at?\n\n DJANGO\n They never seen a nigger on a horse before.\n Dr.S","ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives","s lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he is the\n owner of Candyland.\n\n DJANGO\n Candyland? The mandingo fightin' place?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Oh, so you heard of it?\n\n DJANGO\n Ain't no slave ain't heard of Candyland.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\n ","to business. As Schultz and Gus discuss the\n bounties, Django reads the handbills aloud from off the wall. On the\n third one he reads, WARREN VANDERS, and a two thousand dollar bounty,\n \"That one\", Schultz says.\n Django RIPS IT off the wall.\n As the winter has progressed, we see they've become a genuine bounty\n hunting team. And Django, a genuine bounty hunter.\n\n EXT - PRETTY MEADO","get second thoughts.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Still, seventy-five dollars in your back\n pocket is a pretty nice grub steak, but it's\n not going to get you very far in Greenville.\n Not to mention a slave auction town in\n Mississippi isn't the safest place you could\n visit. Free or not.\n\n DJANGO\n I'll have my freedom papers.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes you will. But say you show them to some\n rascals, and they",", is a understatement.\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Who are they?\n\n DJANGO\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\n little brother Raj.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Where's Ellis?\n\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Br","He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\n Django is free.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.","em.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Great! Now you get hung for killin' a white\n man. The point being is the place,is just\n too dangerous for you.\n\n DJANGO\n Well I gotta go, when do I go?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n When you get more dangerous.\n\n EXT - CHATTANOOGA - DAY\n Muddy and wet big city Chattanooga. We're in the back of a STORE that.\n sells SERVANT/","a\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\n treated as an extension of myself.\n\n SPENCER\n Understood., Schultz. Betina?\n\n BETINA\n Yes, sir?\n\n SPENCER\n Django isn't a slave. Django is a free\n man. Do you understand? You're not to treat\n him like any of these other niggers around\n here, cause he ain't like any of these","itates.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\n mad at you. Take out Smitty Bacall's handbill.\n Django removes the folded up handbill from the pocket of his tan pants.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Read it aloud. Consider it today's lesson.\n\n DJANGO\n\n (READING)\n \"Wanted, dead or alive. Smitty Bacall and\n The Smitty Bacall G","this\n black and make sure he keeps up.\n\n JANO\n Oh, I'll keep 'em up.\n Jano takes the rope tired around Django's wrists.and ties the other end\n around his saddle horn.\n The LeQuint Dickey Mining Company caravan leaves Candyland.\n\n EXT - MISSISSIPPI COUNTRY ROAD - DAY\n The Caravan makes its way down a dirt road in pretty Chickasaw County.\n Stoic Roy riding lead horse, Floyd"," DJANGO\n I dunno. They put us in different boxcars,\n and sent U.S to The Greenville Slave Auction.\n She got sold two days 'fore me.\n But I don't know who to.\n Dr.Schultz takes out a long stick of beef jerky.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Care for some jerky?\n\n DJANGO\n Sure.\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\n","a reward?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Certain people, yes.\n\n DJANGO\n White people?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Mostly. A few Mexicans. Couple Chinamen.\n\n DJANGO\n Bad people?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Badder they are, bigger the reward.\n Which brings me to you, and I must admit\n I'm at a bit of a quandary when it comes\n to you. On one hand, I despise slavery.\n "],["Z\n Django.\n\n SPENCER\n Betina sugar, take Django around the\n grounds. Show 'em all the pretty stuff.\n\n BETINA\n As you please, Big Daddy.\n Dr.Schultz lowers his voice, and says to the plantation owner;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Mr. Bennett, I must remind, you, Django is a\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\n treated as an extension","a\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\n treated as an extension of myself.\n\n SPENCER\n Understood., Schultz. Betina?\n\n BETINA\n Yes, sir?\n\n SPENCER\n Django isn't a slave. Django is a free\n man. Do you understand? You're not to treat\n him like any of these other niggers around\n here, cause he ain't like any of these","done anything for Django, just to him. So\n understandably, he's a little suspicious.\n\n DJANGO\n Why you care what happens to me? Why you\n care if I find my wife?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well frankly, I've never given anybody\n their freedom before. And now that I have,\n I feel vaguely responsible for you. You're\n just not ready to go off on your own, it's\n that simple. You're too green, you'll get hurt","He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\n Django is free.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.","GO\n Sure.\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\n\n SCHULTZ SAYS;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n So your plan is to trackdowri your wife, and\n purchase her.freedom? Only you don't know\n where she is?\n A chewing Django nods his head, yes.\n Dr.Schultz, takes a big bite of jerky, chews for a \"moment contemplating\n the d","CHULTZ\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\n seventy five dollars in your back pocket.\n What's your plan after that?\n\n DJANGO\n Find my wife, and buy her freedom.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Django, I had no idea you were a married man.\n Do most slaves take the institution of\n matrimony seriously?\n\n DJANGO\n Huh?\n\n \n\n ","his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives, is a man with\n a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with\n a good plan. So, having said that, what's\n your plan, young Django?\n\n DJANGO\n What'cha mean?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\n","Ring Schultz, and\n Django Freeman, they're big customers with\n big pockets wanna buy a big nigger. So I\n brought 'em out here so you could give\n 'em a little display of our African flesh.\n Ace takes off his hat, bows from his horse, welcoming them.\n\n ACE WOODY\n Welcome to Candyland, gentlemen.\n Astride their horses Brown and Jingle Bells Cody just make faces at\n Django.\n Ace's attention goes to","freedom papers.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes you will. But say you show them to some\n rascals, and they take them from you and\n tear them up?\n\n DJANGO\n They could do that?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I'm not saying they would, but they could.\n\n DJANGO\n They do that I'll kill 'em.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Great! Now you get hung for killin' a white\n man. The point being is","horses in this territory.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n This is my valet, and my valet doesn't walk.\n\n SPENCER BENNETT\n I said niggers -\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n Z .ate`\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n His name is Django, he's a free man, and\n he can ride what he pleases.\n\n SPENCER BENNETT\n Not on my.property, around my niggers\n","\n You will?\n Removing his long brown leather billfold from his suit jacket pocket.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n You'll pay five hundred dollars for a\n one eyed Ole'Joe, ain't fit to push a\n broom?\n Django's voice cuts through the Mississippi heat.\n\n DJANGO\n No he won't.\n All eyes turn to Django.\n\n DJANGO\n He's just","a reward?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Certain people, yes.\n\n DJANGO\n White people?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Mostly. A few Mexicans. Couple Chinamen.\n\n DJANGO\n Bad people?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Badder they are, bigger the reward.\n Which brings me to you, and I must admit\n I'm at a bit of a quandary when it comes\n to you. On one hand, I despise slavery.\n "," \n\n \n\n \n\n W7\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes. You work with me through the winter,\n till the snow melts. I give you a third\n of my bounties. And while we're together,\n I'll teach you a few things you're going\n to need to know.\n\n DJANGO\n Can you teach me how to make Tony do that\n head bow thing that Fritz can do?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n That among other things","himself some more tea out of a fancy tea pot, as he\n thinks about what he's going to say next.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Look Django, I don't doubt one day you will\n save your lady love. But I'm afraid I can't\n let you go to Greenville in a good conscious.\n Let me ask you a question, how do you like\n the bounty hunting business?\n\n DJANGO\n Kill white folks, and they pay ya?\n What's not to like?\n"," DJANGO\n I know what they look like, all right.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\n with me till we find them -\n\n DJANGO\n - Where we goin'?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\n That means we visit every plantation in\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\n find","ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives","ANGO\n No he won't.\n All eyes turn to Django.\n\n DJANGO\n He's just tired'of you toyin' with him is\n all. And for that matter, so am I. But we\n ain't payin' a penny for that pickaninny,\n we ain't got no use for 'em. Ain't that\n right, Doc?\n Dr.Schultz realizes he's just done the one thing he's always preached\n to Django you","\n Django with Schultz, earlier, inspecting and rejecting these three.\n\n RODNEY\n gives Django a bad eyeball look up on his horse.\n\n DJANGO ON TONY\n sees it. He's playing the role of a fucker black slaver, he can't let\n that shit stand.\n He yells down to the powerless man;\n\n DJANGO\n Gotta problem with your eyeball, boy?\n Rodney looks away.\n\n RODNEY","think so.\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Let's go.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\n before this German shakes my hand.\n Cut 'er down.\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ",", cause we gotta us a fight\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\n\n C"],["As the sun continues to beat down on Django's head, he remembers;\n\n DJANGO in the SLAVE PEN\n with what seems like a one hundred and fifty Slaves in a cell designed\n for forty.\n\n WHITE MEN yank him out. of the cell, shirtless, shoeless, and lead him\n down a hallway, into a giant round pen, an audience viewing area\n circles the round pen floor on three different stories of the\n structure.\n\n The ground floor is covered by the BIG MONEY BU","\n\n ACE WOODY\n You got hope for his future?\n\n MOGUY\n I did.\n\n ACE WOODY\n Well I don't.\n Ace walks over to the slave in question.\n\n ACE WOODY\n What's your name, boy?\n The mandingo says;\n\n SIDNEY JAMES\n Sidney James, sir.\n\n ACE WOODY\n So long Sidney James.\n A","SHEPHERD on a leash, the lead dog, that goes by the name of\n\n MARSHA.\n A runaway slave named, D'ARTAGNAN, lies belly down in the dirt,\n surrounded by the four vicious dogs, who BARK, GROWL, and SNAP at him.\n One look at D'Artagnan tells you he's a mandingo who's been in one\n fight too many. One of his eyes have been 'poked out. Big BITES have\n been bit out of both his face and",", cause we gotta us a fight\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\n\n C","means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE.\n The bigger nigger is mine. I just bought\n him today. What's his name, Moguy?\n\n MOGUY\n Big Fred.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n The other nigger belongs to this disreputable\n Italian gentlemen to my right. Amerigo Vassepi.\n\n (TO AMERIGO)","pen till tomorrow.\n Brown with his horse, yells, chases, and herds the three men away into\n the slave pen.\n Ace yells from his horse down to the five new mandingo arrivals, Big\n Fred, Banjo, Sidney James, Tatum,.and Joshua.\n\n ACE WOODY\n Y'all stand over there and make a line!\n They do.\n Ace climbs down from off his horse.\n Cody stays in his saddle, circling the black men with his horse.\n","on\n their horse, as. does Roy, the Slave in lead position on the chain gang.\n It's also a bitterly cold night, with the breath of the seven slaves,\n two slavers, and two horses creating clouds in the air. In fact the\n seven chained together Slaves, with the lead one holding a lantern, and\n all of them chugging out smoky breath, and. slightly moving in unison,\n resemble a human locomotive.\n The Slaves shiver from the cold on their shirtless backs, both Spe","much the\n same village.\n And they too see Django ... . WOW!\n The Caravan enters the road that leads to the front of the Plantation,\n or The Big House as everyone calls it.\n To the left of the Big House is big wooden ARENA built for his Friday\n night nigger fights.\n All the HOUSE SLAVES (the domestic slaves that work for the Candie\n family in the Big House), and WHITE WORKERS (overseers and stray farm\n hands) come out to greet the car"," examines he papers.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Dumas...?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Alexander Dumas. He wrote \"The Three Musketeers.\"\n I figured you must be an admirer. You named\n your slave after that novel's lead character.\n If Alexander Dumas had been there today, I\n wonder what he would of made of it?\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n You doubt he'd approve?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes","Bartholomew (still dressed in\n the ill fitting suit), and the lanky sexy Sheba.\n Also, at this moment, TWO MANDINGOS are having a bloody and savage\n fight to death in this closed room.\n An older European looking man, who's rooting for the mandingo that\n Calvin's not rooting for, is also in the room. His name is.AMERIGO\n\n VASSEPI.\n Before any introductions can be made, with his back to the new arrivals\n ","NIGHT\n\n It's night time and The Speck Brothers, astride HORSES, keep pushing\n their black skinned cargo forward.\n It's a very pitch black night, with only a few stars in the.sky to\n create a little top light. It's so dark, the Slavers use the creek.bed\n to keep from getting lost. Both Speck Brothers carry a lantern up on\n their horse, as. does Roy, the Slave in lead position on the chain gang.\n It's also a bitterly cold","LeQuint\n Dickey, got it worse then that.\" Then they're,\n \"Let's whip 'em to death,\" \"Throw 'em to the\n mandingos,\" \"Feed 'em to Stonesipher's dogs.\"\n And then I say, \"What's so special 'bout that?\n We do that shit all the time. Hells bells,\n the niggers we send to LeQuint Dickey got it\n worse then that.\"\n He stops massaging Django's balls.\n\n ","the whole town is built around.\n BLACK MEN, WOMEN, and CHILDREN in BONDAGE are everywhere you look.\n LINES OF CHAINED SLAVES being marched one way or the other, move\n through the muddy streets of Greenville. WHITE MEN on horses move them\n along.\n BUCKBOARDS filled with DOMESTIC SLAVES (HOUSE NIGGERS), and pretty\n PONYS, driven by WHITE MEN roll through the street.\n A YO","...\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\n Django, who expected nothing less and has seen worse, doesn't blink as\n the runaway slave is torn to bits by canine teeth ...\n The other Mandingos are scared sick at what they see.\n The Hillbilly Trackers root the dogs on.\n Dr.Schultz has never seen a man torn apart by dogs before, and he\n appears not to enjoy it.\n Calvin, without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Dr","\n rolls his eyes and puts up with it, and\n all the white folks think it's so cute.\n Meanwhile you got all these niggas round\n here hoppin' and jumpin' to stay on your\n good side. Well this time Snowball, you\n gonna listen to me. You got anymore sass\n you wanna sling my way, before they give\n us a mandingo demonstration, I'm gonna\n give this whole motherfuckin plantation\n a demonstration, of ME beatin' the BLACK\n off your","for a blood sport like\n nigger fightin'?\n As D'Artagnan's SCREAMS and Marsha's GROWLS continue OFF SCREEN.\n\n DJANGO\n Naw, he just ain't use to seein' a man\n ripped apart by dogs, is all.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n But you are use to it?\n\n DJANGO\n Well, him bein' German an' all, I'm\n a little more use to American's","ain't heard of Candyland.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\n and apparently the repellent gentleman down\n there is the one who owns her.\n\n ��` TIME CUT\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 6R\n The White Man and Black Man find a cubby hole to talk in the auction\n hall.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n How much do you know about mandingo fighting?\n","os, and the three\n old mandingos who know D'Artagnan.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Well I'll be, D'Artagnan. Now boy, why do\n a fool thing like run off?\n\n D'ARTAGNAN\n I can't fight no more, Monsieur Candie.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Oh yes you can. You might not be able to\n win, but your ass can fight. - Mr.Stonesipher,\n shut these","the slave centipede falls off into darkness. In the darkness a\n VOICE rings out;\n\n DJANGO'S VOICE (OS)\n I'm from The Carrucan Plantation.\n Dr.Schultz moves Fritz forward towards the darkness, raises his\n lantern, illuminating our hero Django.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Splendid! And what's your name young, man?\n\n DJANGO\n Django.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Wunder","Ask them\n .am I a Candyland slave, or did I ride in\n there on a horse, with a white man, yesterday?\n\n CUT TO\n\n ROY AND FLOYD\n go to the Cage Wagon to talk with the three mandingos. As they walk,\n Roy continues to study the handbill.\n\n ROY\n\n (READING ALOUD)\n \"Wanted, dead or alive. Smitty Bacall and\n The Bacall Gang. For murder and stage"],["ER - POPS into Schultz's hand from a metal sliding\n apparatus concealed under his jacket sleeve. Once in hand, the dentist\n FIRES one tiny bullet into the belly of Bill Sharp.\n The tiny gun makes a tiny POP sound.\n The shocked Bill Sharp lets out a ugly groan, and doubles over in the\n dirt.\n The TOWNSPEOPLE are startled.\n As is Django.\n As Schultz walks down the porch steps, to the fallen sheriff, reloading\n ","Schultz, he carries a small plate of\n rhubarb pie with him.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n\n (TO SCHULTZ)\n Rhubarb pie?\n Schultz looks at the pie and the man.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n No.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Are you brooding 'bout me getting the best\n of ya?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Actually, I was thinking of that poor\n devil you fed to the dogs","pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Sorry about putting a bullet in your beast.\n But I didn't want you to do anything rash\n before you had a moment to come to your senses.\n Dr.Sch.ultz LIGHTS the lantern, illuminating himself, as he stands over\n Dicky's body.\n\n DICKY SPECK\n You goddamn son of a bitch, you killed Ace!\n Dr.S","brother off his horse, dead in the dirt.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n Before Dicky can maneuver either his rifle or his horse in the Germans\n direction...\n\n BAM...\n Dr.SCHULTZ SHOOTS his HORSE in the head...\n .The Steed goes down taking Dicky with him...\n When the dead weight horse lands on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\n Dicky lets","As the good doctor, walks back to the table carrying the mugs of beer,\n\n HE EXPLAINS;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well the way the slave trade deals in\n human lives for cash, a bounty hunter,\n deals in corpses.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 15\n Dr.SCHULTZ (CONT'D)\n The state places a bounty on a man's head.\n I track that man, I find that man","Dr.Schultz removes his long billfold from his pocket, and takes out a\n one hundred dollar bill, two tens and a fiver.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n And since your late brother. won't be using\n it anymore, I'd like to purchase his nag.\n He removes a twenty dollar gold piece from his. pocket, and tosses it on\n Dicky's body. He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there,","\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Brittle riding his horse full out through the cotton field trying\n to make an escape.\n\n SCHULTZ'S WINCHESTER\n goes to his eye, he follows the rider with his rifle barrel.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Are you sure that's him?\n Ellis gets further away...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n DJ",".\n\n ROY\n Who shot 'em?\n\n CHICKEN CHARLY\n The German.\n\n ROY\n And why did he do that?\n\n CHICKEN CHARLY\n The nigger and the German were actin as if they\n were slavers, but they weren't.\n\n ROY\n What were they?\n\n RODNEY\n Bounty hunters.\n Floyd is starting to get convinced.\n\n FLOYD\n ",", cause we gotta us a fight\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\n\n C","\n Who that farmer? Who cares?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well since we came here to kill 'em, he\n just might.\n\n DJANGO\n What? The little man pushin' that plow?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n That little man pushing that plow, is Smitty Bacall.\n\n DJANGO\n Smitty Bacall is a farmer?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n No. Smitty Bacall is a stagecoach robber\n who's",", who's sure his new master is a lunatic\n who's going to get them both killed, peeks out the closed curtains\n on the window.\n Dr.Schultz's suit coat sits draped over a chair. All of his weapons,\n including his metal sliding rail Derringer contraption, lie on a table.\n He plays piano in his button down dress shirt and gray suit vest.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n What are they doing?\n\n DJANGO\n I think they wonderin' why you playin","body.\n\n DICKY SPECK\n You goddamn son of a bitch, you killed Ace!\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\n I only shot your brother, once he threatened\n to shoot me. And I do believe I have ...\n\n (COUNTING OUT\n\n THE SLAVES)\n .one, two, three, four, five, six,\n seven witnesses who can attest to that fact.\n\n DICKY SPECK\n My damn legs busted!\n Dr.SCH","\n Django goes to stop him...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1 714\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\n\n POP!\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n ","he's dead as fried chicken,\n everyone 'round here blames you.\n Ace Woody opens his black suit jacket, we see not only does he wear a\n gun and holster around his waist, he carries a HUGE BOWIE KNIFE ina\n shoulder holster. He removes the big blade from its sheath.\n\n ACE WOODY\n Yep, Boss Man's gone. Poor Calvin. Poor\n goddamn Calvin. We're burnin' him in a few\n ","CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n falls to the floor.\n Everybody is stunned.\n Schultz looks to Django.\n Django looks back.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (TO DJANGO)\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room",".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\n\n FADE TO BLACK\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\n The C",", is a understatement.\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Who are they?\n\n DJANGO\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\n little brother Raj.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Where's Ellis?\n\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Br","on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\n Dicky lets out a bitch like scream.\n The Slaves watch all this. They've never seen a white man kill another\n white man before.\n Dicky is pinned down under his ole paint.\n Django watches in the dark, the German climb down off his horse,\n pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Sorry about","can still\n ride, high tail it the fuck out of there. Whipped and whimpering like\n dogs.\n\n SPENCER BENNETT\n on his horse with the other fleeing regulators RIDES for his life...\n\n SCOPE SIGHT POV\n We see the back of the fleeing Bennett smack dab in the cross hairs.\n\n DJANGO\n scope sight rifle up to his eye.\n Schultz next to him, says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n He's","killed him\n - At which point, the authorities pay me\n the bounty.\n (lifting his beer)\n Cheers.\n The two men touch glasses, and take a drink.\n\n DJANGO\n What's a bounty?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n It's like a reward.\n\n DJANGO\n You kill people and they give you a reward?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Certain people, yes.\n\n DJANGO\n White people?\n "],["\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\n\n DJANGO\n Here's your bill of sale, and freedom papers.\n No matter what happens to me, hold on to these\n and get out of the south.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n What's gonna happen to you?\n\n DJANGO\n Ain't nuttin' gonna happen to me honey,\n I'm just sayin'. Now go to the stable, little\n Timmy's","ROOMHILDA\n\n INT - SLAVE PEN - DAY\n The same shot we saw before of Django fighting his way to the bars of\n the slave pen, to get a better last look of Broomhilda.\n Broomhilda, as before is walked by in the distance.\n Then, as before Django loses sight of her.\n\n EXT - MAIN STREET - GREENVILLE - DAY\n We follow in front of Broomhilda being lead out of the slave pen by TWO\n WH","and Tony.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n Timmy just stares.\n\n DJANGO\n Now, boy!\n Timmy hops to work.\n Django bends down over the body of Dr.Schultz, he takes Broomhilda's\n bill of sale and freedom papers out of his back pocket. He also\n searches for and finds Schultz's hidden DERRINGER, he keeps it in a\n holster around his ankle.\n As Timmy s","\n Where's Broomhilda?\n\n TIMMY\n Who?\n\n DJANGO\n Hildi, the slave girl that ran away a\n couple of days ago. They had her in The\n Hot Box.\n\n TIMMY\n I don't know 'bout no girl.\n\n DJANGO\n How 'bout that German white man I came\n here with?\n\n TIMMY\n Oh he's dead. His body's over there.\n Django","He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\n Django is free.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.","\n goodbye to Miss Lara. Miss Lara makes a big show of saying goodbye to\n them.\n A little cognizant of the Candie Family unit begin the walk off the\n hill back to the big house.\n\n EXT - BILLY CRASH'S SHACK - NIGHT\n Django with Broomhilda. Billy Crash lies dead in the B.G., Stonesipher's\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\n\n DJANGO\n Here's","yard wooden floor.\n\n INT - BARN - AFTERNOON\n Eight year old stable boy, Timmy, wipes the unconscious Django's face\n with a wet rag. They are all alone in the barn.\n Django begins to come to ...\n\n TIMMY\n\n (SHHH'S HIM)\n Act like you still sleepin'.\n\n DJANGO\n Where's Broomhilda?\n\n TIMMY\n Who?\n\n DJANGO\n Hild","freedom papers.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes you will. But say you show them to some\n rascals, and they take them from you and\n tear them up?\n\n DJANGO\n They could do that?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I'm not saying they would, but they could.\n\n DJANGO\n They do that I'll kill 'em.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Great! Now you get hung for killin' a white\n man. The point being is","Django, and follows Broomhilda behind\n the kitchen door.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 121\n\n INT - KITCHEN (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\n In the kitchen with the OTHER DOMESTICS, Stephen says to Broomhilda;\n\n STEPHEN\n I thought you said you didn't know him?\n Broomhilda turns around.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Huh?\n Stephen approaches her,","05\n\n STEPHEN\n This one's yours, boy. That bed's damn\n nice too.\n Django walks over to the window, parts the curtains and peers out.\n Broomhilda's gone. As he looks through the glass, snotty Stephen\n rattles on in the background.\n\n STEPHEN\n Feel free to touch anything you want,\n cause we burnin' all this shit once you\n gone. I'll have somebody knock on the\n door when the demonstration ready."," putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\n As he,walks up to Broomhilda on Fritz, he says;\n\n DJANGO\n Hey Little Trouble Maker.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Hey Big Trouble Maker.\n\n DJANGO\n Down, boy.\n Timmy hops off of Tony.\n Django climbs aboard Tony. He says to Broomhilda;\n","Flashbacks. In other words, from his\n perspective, and memory. This is the,only time the story will shift to\n Broomhilda's perspective. The strong but frightened girl is led out on\n to the hustle and bustle, and wagon wheels and horse hoofs of Main\n Street.\n Broomhilda is not taken into that three story auction arena that Django\n was sold in at the beginning. Instead She's just lifted up on a parked\n buckboard wagon. Her SELLER (CLYDE) starts his pitch on the T","I've always been\n sweet on you. I don't wanna bust your ass.\n So don't make me! Now I'm gonna go shit.\n You calm down.\n He exits the shack to go the outhouse, leaving Broomhilda alone.\n WE MOVE INTO A CLOSE UP OF BROOMHILDA lying on the bed. She cries for\n Django, she cries for herself...\n\n .THEN...\n She HEARS an IMPACT SOUND, and a MUFF","was sold, you know where\n she came from, the Carrucan Plantation, and\n you know her name ... . what is her name?\n\n DJANGO\n Broomhilda.\n Schultz reacts.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Broomhilda?\n Django.nods his head yes.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Were her owners German?\n Now Django reacts, \"How did he know that?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, how did you know? She","IDE THE CORRAL\n through the wooden posts, in the distance, Django watches them open up\n the boxcar holding the females. They do their run to their pen out of\n view.\n Django catches a quick glimpse of Broomhild.a running with the other\n LADIES, then she's gone from view.\n\n BACK TO DJANGO (PRESENT)\n Django and Dr.Schultz on top of their horses, taking in the sight of\n Greenville.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n","and he puts a\n fire breathing dragon there to guard the mountain.\n And. then he surrounds her in circle of hellfire.\n And there Broomhilda shall remain, unless a hero\n arises brave enough to save her.\n\n DJANGO\n Does a fella arise?\n From now on as Dr.Schultz talks, he's beginning to realize something he\n wasn't aware of when the conversation started.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\n named","arm from.his eyes.\n\n DJANGO\n He ain't tellin' nobody 'bout that.\n That's all that needs to be said.\n\n INT - HALLWAY (BIG HOUSE) - DAY\n Lara Lee, Cora, and a traumatized, but cleaned up (she's dressed in a\n domestic maid uniform) Broomhilda stand outside Dr.Schultz's door,\n after Calvin's sister raps on it.\n Dr.Schultz opens the door."," The HOT BOX\n itself is a large IRON SOLITARY CONFINEMENT CELL DOOR (from Yuma\n Prison) built into the ground. They put a key in the lock, and the two\n men lift the heavy iron door open.\n REVEALING: A naked Broomhilda broiling in a small coffin like iron box\n dug into the ground.\n Broomhilda reacts to the sudden burst of blinding sunshine.\n\n WHEN ...\n Billy Crash TOSSES the bucket of water","me.\n\n DJANGO\n Better not.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n You won't.\n\n DJANGO\n\n (SMILING)\n Better not.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n\n (SMILING)\n You won't.\n They kiss.\n Then, astride Tony, Django leaves Candyland having rescued his\n Broomhilda from her Mountain, her Ring of Hellfire, and all her\n Dragons.\n\n\n"," blowing the limbs off of many of them.\n The LAWN is SILENT.\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\n "],["wrapped around his waist.\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine company beast,\n and climbs aboard him bareback.\n He leans over and snatches the RIFLE that Floyd kept on the wagon seat\n next to him.\n Grabbing a fistful of the horses mane, he digs his heels into the\n beast's side. The pack animals SPRINGS TO LIFE under the new rider. By\n now it should be apparent that Django brings","three caged men are watching is the three Australian mining\n company employees and Django, off in the distance (where they can't\n hear what they're saying), having some sort of a discussion. That\n includes the still bound by the wrists Django showing the three men a\n piece of paper.\n\n INSERT: SMITTY BACALL'S WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE HANDBILL\n Roy holds it in his hand as he reads and Django talks.\n\n DJANGO\n I ain't no god","on the manifest? All of you\n know I'm not suppose to be on this trip.\n But those four men, are still back there.\n They're still wanted. And that eleven thousand\n five hundred is still up for grabs. And the\n last thing they'd expect is y'all rid.in back\n and gittin it.\n Django is damn convincing.\n\n ROY\n What's your deal? You tell us who they are\n and we let ya go?\n\n DJANGO\n ","to business. As Schultz and Gus discuss the\n bounties, Django reads the handbills aloud from off the wall. On the\n third one he reads, WARREN VANDERS, and a two thousand dollar bounty,\n \"That one\", Schultz says.\n Django RIPS IT off the wall.\n As the winter has progressed, we see they've become a genuine bounty\n hunting team. And Django, a genuine bounty hunter.\n\n EXT - PRETTY MEADO",", and says;\n\n DJANGO\n Where's my pistol?\n\n ROY\n Floyd, you got that rifle on the wagon, give\n 'em your gun and your belt.\n Floyd unbuckles his gun belt, gun and all, folds it up, and walks over\n to Django handing it to him. Django accepts it.\n About the pistol, Floyd tells Django;\n\n FLOYD\n Now don't drop it now. I just had the sights\n fixed","killed him\n - At which point, the authorities pay me\n the bounty.\n (lifting his beer)\n Cheers.\n The two men touch glasses, and take a drink.\n\n DJANGO\n What's a bounty?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n It's like a reward.\n\n DJANGO\n You kill people and they give you a reward?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Certain people, yes.\n\n DJANGO\n White people?\n ","this\n black and make sure he keeps up.\n\n JANO\n Oh, I'll keep 'em up.\n Jano takes the rope tired around Django's wrists.and ties the other end\n around his saddle horn.\n The LeQuint Dickey Mining Company caravan leaves Candyland.\n\n EXT - MISSISSIPPI COUNTRY ROAD - DAY\n The Caravan makes its way down a dirt road in pretty Chickasaw County.\n Stoic Roy riding lead horse, Floyd","'bout, y'all.\n We found your wanted posters and book of figures\n in your saddle bags. I gotta say, ain't never\n heard of no black bounty hunter before. A black\n boy paid to kill white men? How did ya like that\n line of work?\n Django retorts, upside down.\n\n DJANGO\n Well, it turns out I was a natural.\n Ace woody laughs.\n\n ACE WOODY\n Boy, people 'round here are","and they payyou for the\n corpse. Get it?\n\n JANO\n I think so... . what did these jokers do again?\n\n DJANGO\n Killed innocent people in a stagecoach\n robbery. I've got the handbill in my pocket.\n Django digs into his tan pants and pulls out the folded up Smitty\n Bacall handbill that Dr.Schultz told him to hang on to for good luck.\n He hands it to Jano.\n\n J","the air, obscuring all visibility...\n\n THEN ...\n A sudden GUST OF WIND comes and BLOWS all the smoke and dust away,\n REVEALING in bright color focus...\n .DJANGO standing among the two dead Aussies, and whatever is left of\n Jano.\n He's shoeless and shirtless, but Floyd's pistol and gunbelt sit\n wrapped around his waist.\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine","What's everybody staring at?\n\n DJANGO\n They never seen a nigger on a horse before.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n What's this bizarre obsession they have\n with. you not riding horses?\n\n DJANGO\n You askin' me?\n Dr.Schultz stops Fritz in front of a saloon, and dismounts. Django has\n a little trouble both stopping Tony and getting off him, but it gets\n done. Dr.Schultz keeps bombarding The Slave with"," putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\n As he,walks up to Broomhilda on Fritz, he says;\n\n DJANGO\n Hey Little Trouble Maker.\n\n BROOMHILDA\n Hey Big Trouble Maker.\n\n DJANGO\n Down, boy.\n Timmy hops off of Tony.\n Django climbs aboard Tony. He says to Broomhilda;\n","jango SHOOTS.\n The Little Man down below behind the plow falls down.\n The Young Boy doesn't know what happened at first. Then he figures'out\n his father was just shot. He goes to him in the dirt.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n You need to keep that Smitty Bacall handbill.\n\n DJANGO\n Why?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n It's good luck. You always keep the\n handbill of your first bounty.\n They begin walking down","He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\n Django is free.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.","rope, looks upside down\n at Ace Woody, all dressed up in a black suit with a string tie, which\n makes him look a bit like Wyatt Earp.\n\n ACE WOODY\n So y'all bounty hunters,.huh?\n Django thinks, \"How does he know?\"\n\n ACE WOODY\n I knew there was something fishy 'bout, y'all.\n We found your wanted posters and book of figures\n in your saddle bags. I gotta say, ain","itates.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\n mad at you. Take out Smitty Bacall's handbill.\n Django removes the folded up handbill from the pocket of his tan pants.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Read it aloud. Consider it today's lesson.\n\n DJANGO\n\n (READING)\n \"Wanted, dead or alive. Smitty Bacall and\n The Smitty Bacall G","a farmer?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n No. Smitty Bacall is a stagecoach robber\n who's hiding out as a farmer, because\n there's a seven thousand dollar bounty on\n his head.\n He hands Django the scope rifle case.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n And he's all yours my boy.\n DJANGO lays on his belly, with the Scope Sight up to his eye.\n\n SCOPE SIGHT POV:\n on the Farmer struggling behind"," Django nods his head, yes.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n You have reason to be.\n He holds out his fist, opens his hand, the coins lay in his palm.\n All the coins have bullet holes dead in their center. He drops them on\n top of Django.\n\n DJANGO\n Still think I'm too green for Greenville?\n Dr.Schultz removes a pipe, sticks it in his mouth and says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Oh you're ready for Greenville.","earn it.\n\n JANO\n If you got something to say, say it.\n\n DJANGO\n The eleven thousand five hundred dollar fortune\n waiting for you back at Candyland, is in the\n form of a wanted dead or alive bounty on\n Smitty Bacall and the Smitty Bacall Gang.\n\n JANO\n Who the fuck is Smitty Bacall?\n\n DJANGO\n Smitty Bacall is the leader of a murdering\n gang of stageco","riders approach, he turns to\n Dr.Schultz and Django, and says;\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n You know since I started fightin' niggers\n about eleven years ago, it's been a new\n lease on'life. And the man ridin' up here\n now is the man responsible for all my\n success.\n Ace and his boys pull their horses up, kicking up dust.\n Through the dust Ace, Brown, and Jingle Bells Cody eyeball Django and\n Schult"],["think so.\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Let's go.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\n before this German shakes my hand.\n Cut 'er down.\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ","ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives",", cause we gotta us a fight\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\n\n C",", is a understatement.\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Who are they?\n\n DJANGO\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\n little brother Raj.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Where's Ellis?\n\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Br","DJANGO\n His son's with him.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Good. He'll have a loved one with him.\n Maybe even share a last word. That's\n better then most get, and a damn. sight\n better then he deserves.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1Ï¿½9\n Django still hesitates.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\n mad at you","CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n falls to the floor.\n Everybody is stunned.\n Schultz looks to Django.\n Django looks back.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n\n (TO DJANGO)\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room",".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\n\n FADE TO BLACK\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\n The C","He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\n Django is free.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.","ANGO\n No he won't.\n All eyes turn to Django.\n\n DJANGO\n He's just tired'of you toyin' with him is\n all. And for that matter, so am I. But we\n ain't payin' a penny for that pickaninny,\n we ain't got no use for 'em. Ain't that\n right, Doc?\n Dr.Schultz realizes he's just done the one thing he's always preached\n to Django you","\n Django goes to stop him...\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1 714\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\n\n POP!\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\n ","on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\n Dicky lets out a bitch like scream.\n The Slaves watch all this. They've never seen a white man kill another\n white man before.\n Dicky is pinned down under his ole paint.\n Django watches in the dark, the German climb down off his horse,\n pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Sorry about","done anything for Django, just to him. So\n understandably, he's a little suspicious.\n\n DJANGO\n Why you care what happens to me? Why you\n care if I find my wife?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well frankly, I've never given anybody\n their freedom before. And now that I have,\n I feel vaguely responsible for you. You're\n just not ready to go off on your own, it's\n that simple. You're too green, you'll get hurt","\n\n 1 30\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n We got it, let's go.\n\n (TO CANDIE)\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\n actually means is, till I see you again,\n and since I never wish to see you again,\n to",", who's sure his new master is a lunatic\n who's going to get them both killed, peeks out the closed curtains\n on the window.\n Dr.Schultz's suit coat sits draped over a chair. All of his weapons,\n including his metal sliding rail Derringer contraption, lie on a table.\n He plays piano in his button down dress shirt and gray suit vest.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n What are they doing?\n\n DJANGO\n I think they wonderin' why you playin","itates.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\n mad at you. Take out Smitty Bacall's handbill.\n Django removes the folded up handbill from the pocket of his tan pants.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Read it aloud. Consider it today's lesson.\n\n DJANGO\n\n (READING)\n \"Wanted, dead or alive. Smitty Bacall and\n The Smitty Bacall G","his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives, is a man with\n a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with\n a good plan. So, having said that, what's\n your plan, young Django?\n\n DJANGO\n What'cha mean?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\n","killed him\n - At which point, the authorities pay me\n the bounty.\n (lifting his beer)\n Cheers.\n The two men touch glasses, and take a drink.\n\n DJANGO\n What's a bounty?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n It's like a reward.\n\n DJANGO\n You kill people and they give you a reward?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Certain people, yes.\n\n DJANGO\n White people?\n ","jango and Dr.Schultz on top of their horses, taking in the sight of\n Greenville.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n It's a spectacle out of Dante.\n\n DJANGO\n You should see it from the other side.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Frankly, I don't know if I could endure this.\n\n DJANGO\n You'd be surprised what you can endure.\n\n (BEAT)\n Where to?\n\n \n\n ","\n Django with Schultz, earlier, inspecting and rejecting these three.\n\n RODNEY\n gives Django a bad eyeball look up on his horse.\n\n DJANGO ON TONY\n sees it. He's playing the role of a fucker black slaver, he can't let\n that shit stand.\n He yells down to the powerless man;\n\n DJANGO\n Gotta problem with your eyeball, boy?\n Rodney looks away.\n\n RODNEY","PING\n LITTLE RAJ across the face and chest.\n MORE SLAVES gather.\n\n DJANGO WHIPS HIM TO THE GROUND\n whips him on the ground, then throws the whip to the ground, picks\n Roger's pistol off the ground, and empties it (FIVE SHOTS) into Roger.\n To say the slaves are flabbergasted, is a understatement.\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\n Django,"],["done anything for Django, just to him. So\n understandably, he's a little suspicious.\n\n DJANGO\n Why you care what happens to me? Why you\n care if I find my wife?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well frankly, I've never given anybody\n their freedom before. And now that I have,\n I feel vaguely responsible for you. You're\n just not ready to go off on your own, it's\n that simple. You're too green, you'll get hurt",", cause we gotta us a fight\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\n\n C","\n Now Django reacts, \"How did he know that?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, how did you know? She wasn't born on\n The Carrucan Plantation. She was raised by\n a German mistress, The Von Shafts. She can\n speak a little German too.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Your wife?\n\n DJANGO\n Yeah, when she was little her mistress taught\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n","a\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\n treated as an extension of myself.\n\n SPENCER\n Understood., Schultz. Betina?\n\n BETINA\n Yes, sir?\n\n SPENCER\n Django isn't a slave. Django is a free\n man. Do you understand? You're not to treat\n him like any of these other niggers around\n here, cause he ain't like any of these","Z\n Django.\n\n SPENCER\n Betina sugar, take Django around the\n grounds. Show 'em all the pretty stuff.\n\n BETINA\n As you please, Big Daddy.\n Dr.Schultz lowers his voice, and says to the plantation owner;\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Mr. Bennett, I must remind, you, Django is a\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\n treated as an extension","ridden quite a few miles\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives","\n Django with Schultz, earlier, inspecting and rejecting these three.\n\n RODNEY\n gives Django a bad eyeball look up on his horse.\n\n DJANGO ON TONY\n sees it. He's playing the role of a fucker black slaver, he can't let\n that shit stand.\n He yells down to the powerless man;\n\n DJANGO\n Gotta problem with your eyeball, boy?\n Rodney looks away.\n\n RODNEY",")\n He walks through hellfire because\n Broomhilda's worth. it.\n After that last line of dialogue... .the two men just let a moment pass\n as they nibble on their sandwiches.\n\n DJANGO\n I know how he feels.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n I think I'm just starting to realize that.\n He pours Django and himself some more tea out of a fancy tea pot, as he\n thinks about what he's going to say next.\n Dr.SCH","think so.\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Let's go.\n\n CALVIN CANDIE\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\n before this German shakes my hand.\n Cut 'er down.\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\n\n CANDLE;\n Dr.SCHULTZ","his feet.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\n times. A man who survives, is a man with\n a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with\n a good plan. So, having said that, what's\n your plan, young Django?\n\n DJANGO\n What'cha mean?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\n","and he puts a\n fire breathing dragon there to guard the mountain.\n And. then he surrounds her in circle of hellfire.\n And there Broomhilda shall remain, unless a hero\n arises brave enough to save her.\n\n DJANGO\n Does a fella arise?\n From now on as Dr.Schultz talks, he's beginning to realize something he\n wasn't aware of when the conversation started.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\n named","DJANGO\n His son's with him.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Good. He'll have a loved one with him.\n Maybe even share a last word. That's\n better then most get, and a damn. sight\n better then he deserves.\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 1Ï¿½9\n Django still hesitates.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\n mad at you","SCHULTZ\n So, Django, what do you intend to name him?\n\n DJANGO\n Who?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Your horse?\n\n DJANGO\n What horse?\n Dr.SCHULTZ'\n The horse you're riding.\n\n DJANGO\n This ain't my horse.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Yes it is.\n\n DJANGO\n No it ain't, it's your horse. I'm just",", is a understatement.\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Who are they?\n\n DJANGO\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\n little brother Raj.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Where's Ellis?\n\n DJANGO\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\n field right now.\n Ellis Br"," Dr.SCHULTZ\n Well I'm naturally curious, of course, but\n there's no reason you MUST tell me. In fact\n an air of mystery adds a dash of panache to\n any steed. And I do believe Tony wears it\n well. Good job Django, well done.\n\n EXT - THE WESTERN TOWN OF DAUGHTREY - MORNING\n As the citizens of Daughtrey wake up, Django and Dr.Schultz ride Fritz\n and Tony through the main street of","Dr.Schultz, good to see you again.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Mr.Moguy, thank you for your assistance\n in creating the opportunity for this\n appointment.\n Mr.MOGUY\n Nonsense, it's my job.\n\n (CON'T)\n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n \n\n 73\n Mr.MOGUY\n\n (CON'T)\n\n (LOOKING AT\n\n DJANGO)","ANGO\n No he won't.\n All eyes turn to Django.\n\n DJANGO\n He's just tired'of you toyin' with him is\n all. And for that matter, so am I. But we\n ain't payin' a penny for that pickaninny,\n we ain't got no use for 'em. Ain't that\n right, Doc?\n Dr.Schultz realizes he's just done the one thing he's always preached\n to Django you","CHULTZ\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\n seventy five dollars in your back pocket.\n What's your plan after that?\n\n DJANGO\n Find my wife, and buy her freedom.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Django, I had no idea you were a married man.\n Do most slaves take the institution of\n matrimony seriously?\n\n DJANGO\n Huh?\n\n \n\n ","SCHULTZ\n Can you convincingly masquerade as someone\n who is an expert on mandingo fighters?\n\n DJANGO¢\n Why?\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Because when a man has one of the four\n biggest cotton plantations in Dixie, but\n the only thing that seems to ring his chimes\n is big sweaty black males, if WE want to get\n his attention, we better be talking about\n big sweaty black males. So my character is\n that of a big money buyer","himself some more tea out of a fancy tea pot, as he\n thinks about what he's going to say next.\n Dr.SCHULTZ\n Look Django, I don't doubt one day you will\n save your lady love. But I'm afraid I can't\n let you go to Greenville in a good conscious.\n Let me ask you a question, how do you like\n the bounty hunting business?\n\n DJANGO\n Kill white folks, and they pay ya?\n What's not to like?\n"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\\n Django is free.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.\",\n \"lock on the\\n cage door.\\n He looks at the three men, especially Rodney, then says;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Throw up that dynamite.\\n Rodney grabs a saddle bag full of dynamite and tosses it to Django on\\n his Horse.\\n Django wraps it around the Horse's neck, turns the beast around, and\\n without saying another word, rides back in the direction of Candyland.\\n The Three NOW FREE Mandingos, watch him ride away.\\n \\\"Who was that nigger?\\\"\",\n \"Z\\n Django.\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Betina sugar, take Django around the\\n grounds. Show 'em all the pretty stuff.\\n\\n BETINA\\n As you please, Big Daddy.\\n Dr.Schultz lowers his voice, and says to the plantation owner;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Mr. Bennett, I must remind, you, Django is a\\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\\n treated as an extension\",\n \"GO\\n Sure.\\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\\n\\n SCHULTZ SAYS;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n So your plan is to trackdowri your wife, and\\n purchase her.freedom? Only you don't know\\n where she is?\\n A chewing Django nods his head, yes.\\n Dr.Schultz, takes a big bite of jerky, chews for a \\\"moment contemplating\\n the d\",\n \"a\\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\\n treated as an extension of myself.\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Understood., Schultz. Betina?\\n\\n BETINA\\n Yes, sir?\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Django isn't a slave. Django is a free\\n man. Do you understand? You're not to treat\\n him like any of these other niggers around\\n here, cause he ain't like any of these\",\n \"\\n I\\\"\\n\\n DJANGO\\n How long you been here?\\n\\n JANO\\n 'bout two years.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n And you ain't paid him back yet?\\n\\n JANO\\n\\n (DEFENSIVELY)\\n No, not yet!\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n (LAUGHS)\\n You a slave too, peckawood. They just bought\\n your ass for the price of a boat ride.\\n At least they didn\",\n \"and he puts a\\n fire breathing dragon there to guard the mountain.\\n And. then he surrounds her in circle of hellfire.\\n And there Broomhilda shall remain, unless a hero\\n arises brave enough to save her.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Does a fella arise?\\n From now on as Dr.Schultz talks, he's beginning to realize something he\\n wasn't aware of when the conversation started.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\\n named\",\n \"ANGO\\n No he won't.\\n All eyes turn to Django.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's just tired'of you toyin' with him is\\n all. And for that matter, so am I. But we\\n ain't payin' a penny for that pickaninny,\\n we ain't got no use for 'em. Ain't that\\n right, Doc?\\n Dr.Schultz realizes he's just done the one thing he's always preached\\n to Django you\",\n \"\\n You will?\\n Removing his long brown leather billfold from his suit jacket pocket.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n You'll pay five hundred dollars for a\\n one eyed Ole'Joe, ain't fit to push a\\n broom?\\n Django's voice cuts through the Mississippi heat.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n No he won't.\\n All eyes turn to Django.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's just\",\n \"As the sun continues to beat down on Django's head, he remembers;\\n\\n DJANGO in the SLAVE PEN\\n with what seems like a one hundred and fifty Slaves in a cell designed\\n for forty.\\n\\n WHITE MEN yank him out. of the cell, shirtless, shoeless, and lead him\\n down a hallway, into a giant round pen, an audience viewing area\\n circles the round pen floor on three different stories of the\\n structure.\\n\\n The ground floor is covered by the BIG MONEY BU\",\n \"CHULTZ\\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\\n seventy five dollars in your back pocket.\\n What's your plan after that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Find my wife, and buy her freedom.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Django, I had no idea you were a married man.\\n Do most slaves take the institution of\\n matrimony seriously?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Huh?\\n\\n \\n\\n \",\n \"handkerchief on her head, and\\n him in his satin baby blue Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit, are quite\\n the pair. She eyeballs him disapprovingly up and down.\\n\\n BETINA\\n What'cha do for your massa'?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Didn't you hear him tell ya, I ain't no slave.\\n\\n BETINA\\n So you really free?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yes.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \",\n \"\\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Here's your bill of sale, and freedom papers.\\n No matter what happens to me, hold on to these\\n and get out of the south.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n What's gonna happen to you?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Ain't nuttin' gonna happen to me honey,\\n I'm just sayin'. Now go to the stable, little\\n Timmy's\",\n \"done anything for Django, just to him. So\\n understandably, he's a little suspicious.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Why you care what happens to me? Why you\\n care if I find my wife?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well frankly, I've never given anybody\\n their freedom before. And now that I have,\\n I feel vaguely responsible for you. You're\\n just not ready to go off on your own, it's\\n that simple. You're too green, you'll get hurt\",\n \"earn it.\\n\\n JANO\\n If you got something to say, say it.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n The eleven thousand five hundred dollar fortune\\n waiting for you back at Candyland, is in the\\n form of a wanted dead or alive bounty on\\n Smitty Bacall and the Smitty Bacall Gang.\\n\\n JANO\\n Who the fuck is Smitty Bacall?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Smitty Bacall is the leader of a murdering\\n gang of stageco\",\n \" You a slave too, peckawood. They just bought\\n your ass for the price of a boat ride.\\n At least they didn't charge us for our boat\\n ride ... . ha ha ha ha...\\n\\n JANO\\n\\n (YELLING)\\n You shut up!\\n Jano's hand grabs his riding crop, and he brings it up to strike\\n Django, when the black man says to him;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n How'd you like to make eleven thousand\\n dollars?\\n\\n\",\n \" DJANGO\\n I dunno. They put us in different boxcars,\\n and sent U.S to The Greenville Slave Auction.\\n She got sold two days 'fore me.\\n But I don't know who to.\\n Dr.Schultz takes out a long stick of beef jerky.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Care for some jerky?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Sure.\\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\\n\",\n \"wrapped around his waist.\\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine company beast,\\n and climbs aboard him bareback.\\n He leans over and snatches the RIFLE that Floyd kept on the wagon seat\\n next to him.\\n Grabbing a fistful of the horses mane, he digs his heels into the\\n beast's side. The pack animals SPRINGS TO LIFE under the new rider. By\\n now it should be apparent that Django brings\",\n \" - in particularly a field nigger -_is sixty\\n to eighty dollars. Now handsome no doubt as\\n Django is, technically, he is a field. nigger.\\n Which according to\\\"this pamphlet here - and\\n why would they lie - puts his price at\\n eighty dollars. So in light of that, how\\n bout a hundred and twenty five dollars for\\n young Django here.\\n Dr.Schultz removes his long billfold from his pocket, and takes out a\\n one hundred dollar bill, two tens and a fiver\",\n \"\\n JANO\\n Who?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n LeQuint Dickey?\\n\\n JANO\\n You gotta few more things to worry about\\n black boy, then what I get paid.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I ain't worried about it. I'm just curious.\\n I mean, I'm the property of The LeQuint Dickey\\n Mining Company, ain't I?\\n\\n JANO\\n Yeah.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n And you\"\n ],\n [\n \" I can point 'em out.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Sold American! So Mr.Speck, how much for\\n Django?\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n I'm gonna lose this leg!\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes, unless you find a talented physician\\n very quickly, I'm afraid that will be the.\\n end result. But back to business, how much\\n do you want for Django?\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n You go to hell!\\n Dr.S\",\n \"how much\\n do you want for Django?\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n You go to hell!\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Don't be silly. How much for Django?\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n 800 dollars!\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Oh come now, I may not have the experience in\\n the slave trade that you and your family does,\\n but neither was I born yesterday.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 8\",\n \"He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\\n Django is free.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.\",\n \"Fritz, does a little bow with his head, a neat trick the doctor taught\\n him.\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n You a doctor?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Affirmative.\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n What kinda doctor?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Dentist. Are you The Speck Brothers, and did you\\n purchase those men at The Greenville.Slave Auction?\\n\\n ACE SPECK\\n So what?\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \",\n \"on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\\n Dicky lets out a bitch like scream.\\n The Slaves watch all this. They've never seen a white man kill another\\n white man before.\\n Dicky is pinned down under his ole paint.\\n Django watches in the dark, the German climb down off his horse,\\n pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Sorry about\",\n \"(to the shivering Slaves)\\n Good evening-I'm looking for a pair of\\n slave traders that go by the'name of\\n The Speck Brothers. Might that be you?\\n\\n ACE SPECK\\n Who wants to. know?\\n\\n THE RIDER\\n I do. I'm Dr. King Schultz, and this\\n is my horse, Fritz.\\n Fritz, does a little bow with his head, a neat trick the doctor taught\\n him.\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n \",\n \".Speck, I am afraid I will require a\\n bill of sale. Do you have one?\\n Dicky just curses him.\\n He says, removing a notebook from his pocket;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I thought not. No worries, I come prepared.\\n (as he writes)\\n This will serve nicely as a bill of sale.\\n (he stops, then\\n says to Django)\\n Django is spelled with a silent \\\"D\\\",\\n is it not?\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \",\n \"up on that horse.\\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.\\n Django removes the coat from the dead slaver. Puts on the warm jacket\\n over his bare back, and climbs up on Ace Specks horse.\\n Dr.Schultz turns to Dicky on the ground.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Mr.Speck, I am afraid I will require a\\n bill of sale. Do you have one?\\n Dicky just curses him.\\n\",\n \"to get\\n his attention, we better be talking about\\n big sweaty black males. So my character is\\n that of a big money buyer from Dusseldorf, here\\n in Greenville to buy my way into the mandingo\\n fight game. And your character is the mandingo\\n expert I hired to help me do it.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n They call that \\\"One-Eyed Charly.\\\"\\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\\n One-Eyed Charly?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's what\",\n \"\\n Now Django reacts, \\\"How did he know that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, how did you know? She wasn't born on\\n The Carrucan Plantation. She was raised by\\n a German mistress, The Von Shafts. She can\\n speak a little German too.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Your wife?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, when she was little her mistress taught\\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\",\n \"ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives\",\n \"Ring Schultz, and\\n Django Freeman, they're big customers with\\n big pockets wanna buy a big nigger. So I\\n brought 'em out here so you could give\\n 'em a little display of our African flesh.\\n Ace takes off his hat, bows from his horse, welcoming them.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Welcome to Candyland, gentlemen.\\n Astride their horses Brown and Jingle Bells Cody just make faces at\\n Django.\\n Ace's attention goes to\",\n \" DJANGO\\n I dunno. They put us in different boxcars,\\n and sent U.S to The Greenville Slave Auction.\\n She got sold two days 'fore me.\\n But I don't know who to.\\n Dr.Schultz takes out a long stick of beef jerky.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Care for some jerky?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Sure.\\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\\n\",\n \"Z\\n Yes it is.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n No it ain't, it's your horse. I'm just riding\\n it.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well, technically, yes - Wait a minute -\\n technically not. If it's my horse, I can\\n give it to you, and as of now, I'm doing such.\\n Django, you're now the proud owner of a horse,\\n congratulations.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\",\n \"Z\\n Django.\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Betina sugar, take Django around the\\n grounds. Show 'em all the pretty stuff.\\n\\n BETINA\\n As you please, Big Daddy.\\n Dr.Schultz lowers his voice, and says to the plantation owner;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Mr. Bennett, I must remind, you, Django is a\\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\\n treated as an extension\",\n \"\\n You will?\\n Removing his long brown leather billfold from his suit jacket pocket.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n You'll pay five hundred dollars for a\\n one eyed Ole'Joe, ain't fit to push a\\n broom?\\n Django's voice cuts through the Mississippi heat.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n No he won't.\\n All eyes turn to Django.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's just\",\n \" - in particularly a field nigger -_is sixty\\n to eighty dollars. Now handsome no doubt as\\n Django is, technically, he is a field. nigger.\\n Which according to\\\"this pamphlet here - and\\n why would they lie - puts his price at\\n eighty dollars. So in light of that, how\\n bout a hundred and twenty five dollars for\\n young Django here.\\n Dr.Schultz removes his long billfold from his pocket, and takes out a\\n one hundred dollar bill, two tens and a fiver\",\n \"a\\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\\n treated as an extension of myself.\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Understood., Schultz. Betina?\\n\\n BETINA\\n Yes, sir?\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Django isn't a slave. Django is a free\\n man. Do you understand? You're not to treat\\n him like any of these other niggers around\\n here, cause he ain't like any of these\",\n \"drinks. They both take a\\n sip. Schultz hates it, Django loves it.\\n Candle turns his attention to Django.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What's your name, boy?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n His name is Django.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO SCHULTZ)\\n Where'd ya dig him up?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n A fortuitous turn of events brought\\n Django and myself together.\",\n \"pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Sorry about putting a bullet in your beast.\\n But I didn't want you to do anything rash\\n before you had a moment to come to your senses.\\n Dr.Sch.ultz LIGHTS the lantern, illuminating himself, as he stands over\\n Dicky's body.\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n You goddamn son of a bitch, you killed Ace!\\n Dr.S\"\n ],\n [\n \"CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n falls to the floor.\\n Everybody is stunned.\\n Schultz looks to Django.\\n Django looks back.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (TO DJANGO)\\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room\",\n \"ultz considers'Calvin Candie's words, then suddenly says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n You know Monsieur Candie... . you do possess\\n the power of persuasion.\\n Candie smiles at that remark.\\n Then SUDDENLY Schultz SLAPS the table hard with his hand, and says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Why not! Monsieur Candie, you have a deal,\\n Eskimo Joe, twelve thousand dollars!\\n The White people at the table get very happy.\\n Dr.Sch\",\n \"you are a\\n neophyte. I'm simply trying to ascertain\\n if this cowboy is taking advantage of you.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n With all due respect, Monsieur Candie, I\\n didn't seek you out for your advice. I\\n sought you out to purchase a fighting\\n nigger at above top dollar market price.\\n I was'under the impression when you\\n granted me an audience, it would be to\\n discuss business.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n No we weren't\",\n \"\\n Django goes to stop him...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1 714\\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\\n\\n POP!\\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n \",\n \"CANDIE\\n Quit stalling and answer the question.\\n The room is quiet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n The awful truth?\\n\\n (PAUSE)\\n I'm bored, and it seems like a good\\n bit of fun.\\n Candie takes that to heart. He'll accept it for now.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Well come on over, cause we gotta us a fight\\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get\",\n \"think so.\\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Let's go.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\\n before this German shakes my hand.\\n Cut 'er down.\\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \"\\n\\n 1 30\\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n We got it, let's go.\\n\\n (TO CANDIE)\\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\\n actually means is, till I see you again,\\n and since I never wish to see you again,\\n to\",\n \"a whole lotta trouble,\\n and done spread a whole lotta bull, to\\n purchase the lovely lady to my left, it would\\n appear that Broomhilda is, \\\"The Right Nigger.\\\"\\n And if y'all wanna leave Candyland with\\n Broomhilda, the price is twelve thousand dollars.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I take it you prefer the take it or leave\\n it style of negotiating.\\n Candie continuing to hold the hammer continues.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Under the laws\",\n \"\\n \\n\\n IN\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n And if you think my price for this nigger\\n is too steep, what I'm gonna desire to do\\n is, take this hammer and beat her ass to\\n death with it. Right in front of both y'all.\\n He SMASHES the arm rest of the chair Broomhilda's sitting in.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Put up or shut up, Schultz. You wanna save\\n this nigger bitch,\",\n \"ason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\\n to know how much you want 'er. So instead,\\n you waste my time with all this Eskimo Joe\\n horseshit.\\n\\n (TO STEPHEN)\\n Stephen, put her in that chair.\\n Stephen sits the young lady down in Moguy's old chair.\\n With their palms against the table, unarmed, Django and Schultz\\n silently watch Candie's\",\n \"E\\n\\n (TO SCHULTZ)\\n You spend a lot of time around niggers\\n aside from Freeman here?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Not so much.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Well if'in you did,.you'd know what a\\n treat this was for 'em. You feel special\\n Coco?\\n\\n COCO\\n Yes. sir, Monsieur Candie.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n You feel special Bartholomew?\\n\",\n \"...\\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\\n Django, who expected nothing less and has seen worse, doesn't blink as\\n the runaway slave is torn to bits by canine teeth ...\\n The other Mandingos are scared sick at what they see.\\n The Hillbilly Trackers root the dogs on.\\n Dr.Schultz has never seen a man torn apart by dogs before, and he\\n appears not to enjoy it.\\n Calvin, without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Dr\",\n \"with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\\n You really want me to shake your hand?\\n Django gets it.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n I insist.\\n\\n DR\\n -Schultz smiles.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well, if you insist.\\n Django goes to stop him...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1 7\",\n \"instinctively shoots a look to Django.\\n Stephen clocks it.\\n\\n LARA LEE\\n Calvin, I just got her all dressed up\\n and looking nice.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n But Lara Lee, Dr.Schultz is from Dusseldorf,\\n they don't got niggers there. And he's a\\n man of medicine. I'm sure it would\\n fascinate him, the niggers endurance for\\n pain. I mean Hildi got something like\\n \",\n \" CALVIN CANDIE\\n How ya like that meat, Bright Boy?\\n Django's eyes go to Calvin, he nods his approval.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO COCO)\\n How's your Catfish, dew drop?\\n\\n COCO\\n Real good Monsieur Candie.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO SCHULTZ)\\n You spend a lot of time around niggers\\n aside from Freeman here?\\n\",\n \"you be a dear and go out there and\\n give them gals an eyeball. That of boy\\n knows everything to know 'bout mandingos,\\n But he don't know diddly 'bout black puddin'.\\n Lara Lee excuses herself and leaves the room, as she goes out,\\n Bartholomew, with his Sawed Off Shotgun, comes.in behind Schultz and\\n Django.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Can I ask you two gentlemen to look over\\n your\",\n \"S\\n /-. watch Calvin Candie from up above on the 2nd floor landing.\\n FROM Dr.SCHULTZ'S PERSPECTIVE\\n We see Calvin Candie, and his black slave.bodyguard, BARTHOLOMEW,\\n always dressed in a slightly ill fitting three piece suit and bowler\\n hat, among the crowd of buyers at the auction block below.\\n Candie's lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he\",\n \"he's just been massively insulted;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n You don't intend to allow your 2nd...\\n (referring to Moguy)\\n .to make the proper introductions?\\n Without turning towards them, Candie tells Schultz;\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 7S\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Quit stalling and answer the question.\\n The room is quiet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n The\",\n \"\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Stephen, you just interrupted Dr.Schultz.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n (to Dr.Schultz)\\n Oh, I do apologize, doctor. My hearin'\\n ain't worth a damn these days.\\n\\n (TO CANDIE)\\n Monsieur Candie, I need a word with you in\\n the kitchen.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What, you mean get outta my chair?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n If\",\n \"'s old chair.\\n With their palms against the table, unarmed, Django and Schultz\\n silently watch Candie's next move.\\n Candie, still holding the hammer, continues.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Now the way I see it, ain't nothin' changed..\\n You still wanna buy a nigger, I still wanna\\n sell one. So, with that in mind, in Greenville,\\n Dr.Schultz, you yourself said, \\\"For the Right\\n Nigger you'd be\"\n ],\n [\n \", and watches\\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\\n these two jokers (Django and Schultz) are up to something, and now he's\\n just figured it out.\\n\\n INT - DINNER TABLE (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n You indicated earlier you would be\\n willing to part with Hildi?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Yes siree bob I did.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \"ieur Candie you've arrived.\\n (referring to the\\n\\n FRENCH MAID)\\n Can Coco get either of you two gentlemen\\n a tasty refreshment?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Not at the moment.\\n\\n CLEO\\n Then Coco will entertain you while I\\n inform Monsieur Candie.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n How charming.\\n Cleo leaves.\\n Django wanders over the dining room, and peers inside.\\n\\n INT - DINING\",\n \" and sent over to Dr.Schultz's room.\\n Stephen has to be the bearer of bad news.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Actually... . Monsieur Candie... . there's\\n somethin' we ain't tole you yet.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Hildi's in The Hot Box.\\n This gets Django's, Schultz's, and Candie's attention.\\n\\n CALVIN CAN\",\n \"s lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he is the\\n owner of Candyland.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Candyland? The mandingo fightin' place?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Oh, so you heard of it?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Ain't no slave ain't heard of Candyland.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\\n \",\n \"- NIGHT\\n Later that evening, Django and a lot of other white people (Calvin\\n Candie, Lara Lee, Moguy, and Dr.Schultz) sat around the dinner table.\\n They are being served by the black people we've come to know at\\n Candyland (Stephen, Cora, and because Dr.Schultz likes her Broomhilda).\\n Along with an army of DOMESTIC SLAVES acting as wait service.\\n Knowing Django's a slaver, and for his dinner table privile\",\n \"...\\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\\n Django, who expected nothing less and has seen worse, doesn't blink as\\n the runaway slave is torn to bits by canine teeth ...\\n The other Mandingos are scared sick at what they see.\\n The Hillbilly Trackers root the dogs on.\\n Dr.Schultz has never seen a man torn apart by dogs before, and he\\n appears not to enjoy it.\\n Calvin, without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Dr\",\n \"CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n falls to the floor.\\n Everybody is stunned.\\n Schultz looks to Django.\\n Django looks back.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (TO DJANGO)\\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room\",\n \"drinks. They both take a\\n sip. Schultz hates it, Django loves it.\\n Candle turns his attention to Django.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What's your name, boy?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n His name is Django.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO SCHULTZ)\\n Where'd ya dig him up?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n A fortuitous turn of events brought\\n Django and myself together.\",\n \"ILDA\\n Yes 'em.\\n With Candie interrogating Broomhilda, Django tenses up.\\n Stephen clocks this.\\n Stephen decides to test Django's reaction.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You know Monsieur Candle, the doctor might\\n be interested in seein' Hildi's \\\"peeled\\\"\\n back. Seein' as he don't see many niggers\\n where he from.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO SCHULTZ)\\n When\",\n \".\\n This gets Django's, Schultz's, and Candie's attention.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What's she doin' there?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n What 'cha think she doin' in The Hot Box,\\n she bein punished.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What she do?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n She ran away again.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Jesus Christ, how many people ran away\\n\",\n \"think so.\\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Let's go.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\\n before this German shakes my hand.\\n Cut 'er down.\\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \" CALVIN CANDIE\\n How ya like that meat, Bright Boy?\\n Django's eyes go to Calvin, he nods his approval.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO COCO)\\n How's your Catfish, dew drop?\\n\\n COCO\\n Real good Monsieur Candie.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO SCHULTZ)\\n You spend a lot of time around niggers\\n aside from Freeman here?\\n\",\n \"\\n Now Django reacts, \\\"How did he know that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, how did you know? She wasn't born on\\n The Carrucan Plantation. She was raised by\\n a German mistress, The Von Shafts. She can\\n speak a little German too.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Your wife?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, when she was little her mistress taught\\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\",\n \",with Hildi this\\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1ZL\\n His eyes to to Broomhilda.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You, stay in the kitchen.\\n Stephen moves to the kitchen door, swings it open, and watches\\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\\n these two jokers (D\",\n \"\\n I'm on this property, you my nigger\\n Snowball.\\n Stephen leaves.\\n Django lies down on the bed. He covers his eyes with his arm.\\n A door joins Django and Schultz's room. The adjoining door opens, and\\n Schultz stands there.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Was that wise?\\n Django doesn't remove his arm from.his eyes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He ain't tellin' nobody 'bout that.\\n That'\",\n \"S\\n /-. watch Calvin Candie from up above on the 2nd floor landing.\\n FROM Dr.SCHULTZ'S PERSPECTIVE\\n We see Calvin Candie, and his black slave.bodyguard, BARTHOLOMEW,\\n always dressed in a slightly ill fitting three piece suit and bowler\\n hat, among the crowd of buyers at the auction block below.\\n Candie's lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he\",\n \"with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\\n You really want me to shake your hand?\\n Django gets it.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n I insist.\\n\\n DR\\n -Schultz smiles.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well, if you insist.\\n Django goes to stop him...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1 7\",\n \"is making Dr.Schultz sick to his stomach.\\n Not Django ... . he's seen this little drama play out many times before.\\n The three returning mandingos, Rodney, Chicken Charly, and Chester,\\n watch their fellow doomed servant pay the price for running away.\\n The five new mandingos watch Calvin Candie's treatment of D'Artagnan to\\n know what to expect from their new home.\\n Bartholomew on the buckboard looks at the captured runaway like, poor\\n bastard.\\n\",\n \"\\n Django goes to stop him...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1 714\\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\\n\\n POP!\\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n \",\n \"lower then a black slaver. Black\\n slavers are lower then head house niggers, and\\n buddy, that's pretty fuckin low.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Then play him that way! Give me your black slaver.\\n Django gets that.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Can you do that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That, I can do. What's next?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n To get ourselves personally invited to\\n Candyland by Calvin Candie himself.\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\\n\\n FADE TO BLACK\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\\n The C\",\n \"CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n falls to the floor.\\n Everybody is stunned.\\n Schultz looks to Django.\\n Django looks back.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (TO DJANGO)\\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room\",\n \"ER - POPS into Schultz's hand from a metal sliding\\n apparatus concealed under his jacket sleeve. Once in hand, the dentist\\n FIRES one tiny bullet into the belly of Bill Sharp.\\n The tiny gun makes a tiny POP sound.\\n The shocked Bill Sharp lets out a ugly groan, and doubles over in the\\n dirt.\\n The TOWNSPEOPLE are startled.\\n As is Django.\\n As Schultz walks down the porch steps, to the fallen sheriff, reloading\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n 1 30\\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n We got it, let's go.\\n\\n (TO CANDIE)\\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\\n actually means is, till I see you again,\\n and since I never wish to see you again,\\n to\",\n \", 8\\n\\n DOWN BELOW WE SEE\\n A LITTLE MAN struggling behind a plow, and his FIFTEEN YEAR OLD SON\\n helping him by leading the horse forward.\\n On top of their perch on the hill top, Dr.Schultz says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Keep down or he'll see you.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Who that farmer? Who cares?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well since we came here to kill 'em, he\\n \",\n \"\\n Django goes to stop him...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1 714\\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\\n\\n POP!\\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n \",\n \"on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\\n Dicky lets out a bitch like scream.\\n The Slaves watch all this. They've never seen a white man kill another\\n white man before.\\n Dicky is pinned down under his ole paint.\\n Django watches in the dark, the German climb down off his horse,\\n pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Sorry about\",\n \"brother off his horse, dead in the dirt.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n Before Dicky can maneuver either his rifle or his horse in the Germans\\n direction...\\n\\n BAM...\\n Dr.SCHULTZ SHOOTS his HORSE in the head...\\n .The Steed goes down taking Dicky with him...\\n When the dead weight horse lands on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\\n Dicky lets\",\n \"think so.\\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Let's go.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\\n before this German shakes my hand.\\n Cut 'er down.\\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \", is a understatement.\\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Who are they?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\\n little brother Raj.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Where's Ellis?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Br\",\n \"SCHULTZ\\n Yes, that does add a little character.\\n The German dentist lowers himself by the Speck brother pinned down\\n under his horse, and hands him the notebook and pen.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n If you'd be so kind Speck, as to make your\\n mark here.\\n The. Hillbilly spits in the German gentleman's face. The good doctor\\n wipes his face with a handkerchief. Then takes out a pocket knife.\\n And whispers something that can't be heard in\",\n \"\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Brittle riding his horse full out through the cotton field trying\\n to make an escape.\\n\\n SCHULTZ'S WINCHESTER\\n goes to his eye, he follows the rider with his rifle barrel.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Are you sure that's him?\\n Ellis gets further away...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n DJ\",\n \"'.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Just fire into the smoke.\\n The two treetop killers let loose with rifle fire.\\n\\n INSIDE OF THE SMOKE\\n pandemonium reigns. Horses and Men trip over bodies and pieces of\\n bodies, of horses and men. Men with legs and arms blown off, yell\\n bloody murder, hurt and scared Horses cry. Some struggle to get the\\n sacks off their heads, while scared horses dance and buck in panic.\\n Some are shot by the rifle fire. The rest\",\n \"\\n Who that farmer? Who cares?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well since we came here to kill 'em, he\\n just might.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What? The little man pushin' that plow?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n That little man pushing that plow, is Smitty Bacall.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Smitty Bacall is a farmer?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n No. Smitty Bacall is a stagecoach robber\\n who's\",\n \"bs back up on Fritz, and looks to the six Slaves, in\\n leg irons.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Now as to you poor devils.\\n He tosses to Pudgy Ralph the keys to the shackles.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n So as I.see it, when it comes to the subject\\n of what to do next, you gentlemen have two\\n choices. One, once I'm gone, you lift that\\n beast off the remaining Speck, then carry him\\n to the nearest town.\",\n \"killed him\\n - At which point, the authorities pay me\\n the bounty.\\n (lifting his beer)\\n Cheers.\\n The two men touch glasses, and take a drink.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What's a bounty?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n It's like a reward.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n You kill people and they give you a reward?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Certain people, yes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n White people?\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n Z/\\n Dr.SCHULTZ (CONT'D)\\n In my possession. is a warrant made out by\\n circuit court Judge Henry Allen Laudermilk\\n of Austin Texas. You are encouraged to wire him.\\n He will back up who I am, and who your\\n dear departed sheriff was.\\n The Menfolk of the town with rifles, begin trading looks. Then\\n Dr.Schultz delivers the coup de grace.\\n \",\n \"ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives\",\n \", who's sure his new master is a lunatic\\n who's going to get them both killed, peeks out the closed curtains\\n on the window.\\n Dr.Schultz's suit coat sits draped over a chair. All of his weapons,\\n including his metal sliding rail Derringer contraption, lie on a table.\\n He plays piano in his button down dress shirt and gray suit vest.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n What are they doing?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I think they wonderin' why you playin\",\n \"finds Schultz's hidden DERRINGER, he keeps it in a\\n holster around his ankle.\\n As Timmy saddles the horses, he asks;\\n\\n TIMMY\\n Do you feel bad for your friend?\\n Django rises from the body of his friend.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, \\\"I do.\\n As Timmy saddles the horses he says;\\n\\n TIMMY\\n I know just how ya feel. I lost a white\\n friend once. He drowned in the\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n Stephen lying on the floor, bites his tongue.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's what I thought. Now git outta\\\"here.\\n With as much dignity as he can muster, Stephen stands up.\\n Before he leaves, Django tells him;,\\n\\n DJANGO\\n When I ring this bell, you better come\\n a runnin'. You - not nobody else. While\\n I'm on this property, you my nigger\\n Snowball.\\n Stephen leaves.\\n Django lies down on the bed\",\n \"\\n NO!!!! !\\n Just then Stephen appears in the entrance of the barn/blacksmith\\n facility. He's holding Django's clothes in a bundle under his arm.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Cap't, Miss Lara lookin' for you. She wanna\\n talk about the Old Man's funeral.\\n Oh, and she changed her mind 'bout snippin'\\n Django. She gonna give 'em to the LeQuint\\n Dickey people.\\n While still keeping a firm grip on Django's'j\",\n \"Django, and follows Broomhilda behind\\n the kitchen door.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 121\\n\\n INT - KITCHEN (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\\n In the kitchen with the OTHER DOMESTICS, Stephen says to Broomhilda;\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n I thought you said you didn't know him?\\n Broomhilda turns around.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Huh?\\n Stephen approaches her,\",\n \" cause we burnin' all this shit once you\\n gone. I'll have somebody knock on the\\n door when the demonstration ready.\\n Django sits down on the bed.\\n Stephen turns to leave.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Not so fast.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n I got more important things to do then\\n jaw with you.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Nigger, when I say stop you plant roots.\\n Both the words and the tone stop Stephen dead. He turns around.\\n\\n DJANGO\",\n \"\\n On the count of three.\\n\\n DJANGO SCREAMS:\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n NO!!!!\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n\\n ONE ...\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n NO DON'T DO IT!!!!!\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Got to do it, boy. TWO...\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n NO!!!! !\\n Just then Stephen appears in the entrance of the barn/blacksmith\\n facility. He's holding Django's\",\n \"05\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n This one's yours, boy. That bed's damn\\n nice too.\\n Django walks over to the window, parts the curtains and peers out.\\n Broomhilda's gone. As he looks through the glass, snotty Stephen\\n rattles on in the background.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Feel free to touch anything you want,\\n cause we burnin' all this shit once you\\n gone. I'll have somebody knock on the\\n door when the demonstration ready.\",\n \"ANGE END OF THE POKER hard against Django's BARE\\n buttocks.\\n Django SCREAMS!\\n Stephen LAUGHS.\\n Stephen walks away and sticks the poker back in the fire. He goes\\n through Django's clothes and pulls out his tan pants. He tosses them on\\n the floor by the hanging man.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You leavin', that's what you can take\\n with you.\\n Stephen walks over to the hanging upside down man, and as he talks to\\n \",\n \"that's what you can take\\n with you.\\n Stephen walks over to the hanging upside down man, and as he talks to\\n him, he begins fondling Django's genitals.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n I31\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Now you were quite the topic of conversation\\n for the last few hours. Seemed like folks\\n never had a bright idea in their life, was\\n comin' up with different ways to kill your\\n ASS. Now most of\",\n \"funny. Django's a Freeman.\\n Stephen jerks a thumb up towards Django.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n This nigger, here?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n That nigger there. Let me at least introduce\\n the two of. you. Django, this is another\\n cheeky black bugger like yourself, Stephen.\\n Stephen, this is Django. You two should\\n hate each other.\\n Stephen uses'the special privilege he and he alone enjoys amongst the\\n blacks at Candyland.\",\n \", when I say stop you plant roots.\\n Both the words and the tone stop Stephen dead. He turns around.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n This tiny bell on this little table...\\n .is this for you? I ring this, you\\n do fer me?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Me or somebody.\\n Django reaches over and picks up the bell.\\n (a soft) DING-A-LING\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n\\n (UNAMUSED)\\n What 'cha want?\\n\\n DJAN\",\n \", Stephen goes over to a big fiery furnace in the\\n blacksmith barn, and begins poking a LONG POKER which lies buried in\\n the fire.\\n Django's clothes are dumped by the furnace.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n You gonna look after our friend?\\n As, he plays with the poker in the fire, he says;\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Oh yes sirree Bob, you know I am!\\n 01' Snowball and a certain naked ass\\n upside down nigger we\",\n \"you are, you always know the end is near\\n 'fore the white folks.\\n With the ORANGE HOT poker, he BURNS OFF Django's other NIPPLE.\\n The smell of burned flesh smokes in the air. Stephen makes a show of\\n breathing it in his nostrils.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Damn Nigger, you smell good.\\n He walks behind Django with the poker.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You know, when you was sittin' on that feather\\n bed in\",\n \"for Stephen, no one else was the wiser.\\n Broomhilda takes her greenbeans and leaves the dining room for the\\n kitchen.\\n Stephen watches her go, then looks at Django, then hands Candie his\\n mint julep, and goes into a broad routine for the table's benefit.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Stephen, you're amazing. I haven't finished\\n a drink in this house in twenty years.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n When a man likes a cold drink, a man likes\\n \",\n \"I'm sure it would\\n fascinate him, the niggers endurance for\\n pain. I mean Hildi got something like\\n fifteen lashes on her back. Lara Lee get\\n one, she'd lose her mind. These niggers\\n are tough, no doubt about it.\\n\\n LARA LEE\\n Calvin, we are eating - dessert, no less.\\n Ain't no one wanna see her whipped up back.\\n Django continues to watching this play out.\\n Stephen watches him.\\n Candie\",\n \" blowing the limbs off of many of them.\\n The LAWN is SILENT.\\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\\n \",\n \"-LING\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n\\n (UNAMUSED)\\n What 'cha want?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I want you to pour some water in that\\n bowl for my wash up.\\n Stephen does what he's told, but with attitude.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n )O'\\n Django shuts the guest room door so the two men are alone.\\n Once Stephen's done, Django stands up from the bed.\\n\\n DJAN\",\n \"Stephen has been Calvin's slave since he was a little boy. And in\\n (almost) every way is the 2nd most powerful person at Candyland.\\n Like the characters Basil Rathbone would play in swashbucklers, evil,\\n scheming, intriguing men, always trying to influence and manipulate power\\n for their own self interest. Well that describes Stephen to a tee.\\n The Basil Rathbone of House Niggers.\\n The old Man watches the caravan and the trailing dust cloud approach.\\n\\n THEN\",\n \",with Hildi this\\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1ZL\\n His eyes to to Broomhilda.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You, stay in the kitchen.\\n Stephen moves to the kitchen door, swings it open, and watches\\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\\n these two jokers (D\",\n \"ILDA\\n Yes 'em.\\n With Candie interrogating Broomhilda, Django tenses up.\\n Stephen clocks this.\\n Stephen decides to test Django's reaction.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You know Monsieur Candle, the doctor might\\n be interested in seein' Hildi's \\\"peeled\\\"\\n back. Seein' as he don't see many niggers\\n where he from.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO SCHULTZ)\\n When\",\n \"\\n I'm on this property, you my nigger\\n Snowball.\\n Stephen leaves.\\n Django lies down on the bed. He covers his eyes with his arm.\\n A door joins Django and Schultz's room. The adjoining door opens, and\\n Schultz stands there.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Was that wise?\\n Django doesn't remove his arm from.his eyes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He ain't tellin' nobody 'bout that.\\n That'\"\n ],\n [\n \"me.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Better not.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n You won't.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n (SMILING)\\n Better not.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (SMILING)\\n You won't.\\n They kiss.\\n Then, astride Tony, Django leaves Candyland having rescued his\\n Broomhilda from her Mountain, her Ring of Hellfire, and all her\\n Dragons.\\n\\n\\n\",\n \" blowing the limbs off of many of them.\\n The LAWN is SILENT.\\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\\n \",\n \"\\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Here's your bill of sale, and freedom papers.\\n No matter what happens to me, hold on to these\\n and get out of the south.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n What's gonna happen to you?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Ain't nuttin' gonna happen to me honey,\\n I'm just sayin'. Now go to the stable, little\\n Timmy's\",\n \"s lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he is the\\n owner of Candyland.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Candyland? The mandingo fightin' place?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Oh, so you heard of it?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Ain't no slave ain't heard of Candyland.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\\n \",\n \"\\n Where's Broomhilda?\\n\\n TIMMY\\n Who?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Hildi, the slave girl that ran away a\\n couple of days ago. They had her in The\\n Hot Box.\\n\\n TIMMY\\n I don't know 'bout no girl.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n How 'bout that German white man I came\\n here with?\\n\\n TIMMY\\n Oh he's dead. His body's over there.\\n Django\",\n \"lock on the\\n cage door.\\n He looks at the three men, especially Rodney, then says;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Throw up that dynamite.\\n Rodney grabs a saddle bag full of dynamite and tosses it to Django on\\n his Horse.\\n Django wraps it around the Horse's neck, turns the beast around, and\\n without saying another word, rides back in the direction of Candyland.\\n The Three NOW FREE Mandingos, watch him ride away.\\n \\\"Who was that nigger?\\\"\",\n \"ason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\\n to know how much you want 'er. So instead,\\n you waste my time with all this Eskimo Joe\\n horseshit.\\n\\n (TO STEPHEN)\\n Stephen, put her in that chair.\\n Stephen sits the young lady down in Moguy's old chair.\\n With their palms against the table, unarmed, Django and Schultz\\n silently watch Candie's\",\n \"ROOMHILDA\\n\\n INT - SLAVE PEN - DAY\\n The same shot we saw before of Django fighting his way to the bars of\\n the slave pen, to get a better last look of Broomhilda.\\n Broomhilda, as before is walked by in the distance.\\n Then, as before Django loses sight of her.\\n\\n EXT - MAIN STREET - GREENVILLE - DAY\\n We follow in front of Broomhilda being lead out of the slave pen by TWO\\n WH\",\n \" Ix?\\n Stephen enters the dining room through the kitchen door, holding\\n roughly in his grip, Broomhilda. He holds a small Derringer pistol\\n against the side of her head.\\n Django and Schultz react.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Now it should be quite clear by now I know\\n you're not here to buy no mandingos.\\n Reason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\\n\",\n \"wrapped around his waist.\\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine company beast,\\n and climbs aboard him bareback.\\n He leans over and snatches the RIFLE that Floyd kept on the wagon seat\\n next to him.\\n Grabbing a fistful of the horses mane, he digs his heels into the\\n beast's side. The pack animals SPRINGS TO LIFE under the new rider. By\\n now it should be apparent that Django brings\",\n \".\\n Broomhilda goes to Calvin.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Can I take away your dishes, Monsieur Candle?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Yes you may, Hildi.\\n She begins gathering the dirty dishes.\\n Candie looks up at her as she works.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n So Hildi, how you like servin at the big\\n table in the big house?\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n I like it a\",\n \"I've always been\\n sweet on you. I don't wanna bust your ass.\\n So don't make me! Now I'm gonna go shit.\\n You calm down.\\n He exits the shack to go the outhouse, leaving Broomhilda alone.\\n WE MOVE INTO A CLOSE UP OF BROOMHILDA lying on the bed. She cries for\\n Django, she cries for herself...\\n\\n .THEN...\\n She HEARS an IMPACT SOUND, and a MUFF\",\n \" Prefer the other side?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I didn't say that.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I've confirmed Broomhilda's at Candyland.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Are you sure it's her?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n He didn't call her by name, but she's a\\n young lady, whip marks on 'her back, and\\n speaks German. Now while it'\",\n \"for Stephen, no one else was the wiser.\\n Broomhilda takes her greenbeans and leaves the dining room for the\\n kitchen.\\n Stephen watches her go, then looks at Django, then hands Candie his\\n mint julep, and goes into a broad routine for the table's benefit.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Stephen, you're amazing. I haven't finished\\n a drink in this house in twenty years.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n When a man likes a cold drink, a man likes\\n \",\n \"this\\n black and make sure he keeps up.\\n\\n JANO\\n Oh, I'll keep 'em up.\\n Jano takes the rope tired around Django's wrists.and ties the other end\\n around his saddle horn.\\n The LeQuint Dickey Mining Company caravan leaves Candyland.\\n\\n EXT - MISSISSIPPI COUNTRY ROAD - DAY\\n The Caravan makes its way down a dirt road in pretty Chickasaw County.\\n Stoic Roy riding lead horse, Floyd\",\n \"Y\\n (pointing, behind\\n him, at Django)\\n That black ride into Candyland yesterday?\\n The Caged Men don't know what they're suppose to say.\\n Roy removes the pistol from his belt, cocks back the hammer and points\\n the barrel at the cage.\\n\\n ROY\\n I'm gonna ask again, and remember I don't\\n like liars. Is he a Candyland slave, or did\\n he ride in with a white man yesterday?\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\",\n \" putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\\n As he,walks up to Broomhilda on Fritz, he says;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Hey Little Trouble Maker.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Hey Big Trouble Maker.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Down, boy.\\n Timmy hops off of Tony.\\n Django climbs aboard Tony. He says to Broomhilda;\\n\",\n \"\\n goodbye to Miss Lara. Miss Lara makes a big show of saying goodbye to\\n them.\\n A little cognizant of the Candie Family unit begin the walk off the\\n hill back to the big house.\\n\\n EXT - BILLY CRASH'S SHACK - NIGHT\\n Django with Broomhilda. Billy Crash lies dead in the B.G., Stonesipher's\\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Here's\",\n \"Django, and follows Broomhilda behind\\n the kitchen door.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 121\\n\\n INT - KITCHEN (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\\n In the kitchen with the OTHER DOMESTICS, Stephen says to Broomhilda;\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n I thought you said you didn't know him?\\n Broomhilda turns around.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Huh?\\n Stephen approaches her,\",\n \"lower then a black slaver. Black\\n slavers are lower then head house niggers, and\\n buddy, that's pretty fuckin low.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Then play him that way! Give me your black slaver.\\n Django gets that.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Can you do that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That, I can do. What's next?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n To get ourselves personally invited to\\n Candyland by Calvin Candie himself.\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"Hildi, this is Dr.Schultz, he\\n speaks German.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (TO BROOMHILDA)\\n I've been informed you do as well.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n It would be my, pleasure to speak with you\\n in German.\\n Schultz acts for the benefit of Miss Lara's astonishment.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Astonishing.\\n\\n (IN GERMAN)\",\n \"' me.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Why am I scarin' you?\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Because you're scary.\\n Things have become so tense and quiet in the kitchen, that the dinner\\n table conversation begins to bleed inside.\\n We hear Dr.Schultz in the next room say;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ (OS)\\n .to speak German,with Hildi this\\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea\",\n \" As Dr.Schultz calmly pours the young lady a glass of water, he begins\\n talking to her in GERMAN SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n I'm aware you haven't spoken German in\\n a long while. So I'll talk slowly.\\n I'm only speaking German to you now,\\n Broomhilda, in case Candie's people are\\n listening to us. Myself and a mutual\\n friend of ours, have gone\",\n \"SCHULTZ\\n Yes, that does add a little character.\\n The German dentist lowers himself by the Speck brother pinned down\\n under his horse, and hands him the notebook and pen.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n If you'd be so kind Speck, as to make your\\n mark here.\\n The. Hillbilly spits in the German gentleman's face. The good doctor\\n wipes his face with a handkerchief. Then takes out a pocket knife.\\n And whispers something that can't be heard in\",\n \"'t it?\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Yes. How do you know that?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Stands to reason who ever taught you\\n German would also give you a German name.\\n Can I pour you a glass of water,\\n Broomhilda?\\n Hearing her name being spoke properly for the first time in awhile, not\\n to mention with a German accent, does have a bit of a calming influence\\n on the frightened girl.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Yes you do.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Who?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n I can't tell you. Our mutual friend has a\\n flair for the dramatic, and he wants to\\n surprise you.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n !!0\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Where is he?\",\n \"off nonplussed.\\n\\n INT - SCHULTZ'S GUEST ROOM (BIG HOUSE) - LATE AFTERNOON\\n With the door closed, Schultz turns to the weak, frightened,\\n disoriented girl.\\n He gives her a pleasant smile.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n They call you Hildi, but your real name\\n is Broomhilda, isn't it?\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Yes. How do you know that?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \"accent, does have a bit of a calming influence\\n on the frightened girl.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 107\\n\\n WE CUT TO DJANGO\\n on the other side of the adjoining door, listening, waiting for his cue\\n to present himself.\\n BACK TO BROOMHILDA AND Dr.SCHULTZ\\n As Dr.Schultz calmly pours the young lady a glass of water, he begins\\n talking to her in GERMAN SUBT\",\n \"GERMAN)\\n Please drink.\\n She absentmindedly obeys.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (.GERMAN).\\n Now it's myself and our mutual friend's\\n intention to take you away from here\\n forever.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n I don't got any friends.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Yes you do.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\",\n \"\\n Now Django reacts, \\\"How did he know that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, how did you know? She wasn't born on\\n The Carrucan Plantation. She was raised by\\n a German mistress, The Von Shafts. She can\\n speak a little German too.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Your wife?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, when she was little her mistress taught\\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\",\n \"was sold, you know where\\n she came from, the Carrucan Plantation, and\\n you know her name ... . what is her name?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Broomhilda.\\n Schultz reacts.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Broomhilda?\\n Django.nods his head yes.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Were her owners German?\\n Now Django reacts, \\\"How did he know that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, how did you know? She\",\n \", when she was little her mistress taught\\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n So let me get this straight, your slave\\n wife speaks German, and her name is\\n Broomhilda Von Shaft...?\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yep. Mouthful, huh?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n To say the least.\\n (stopping the horse)\\n This looks like a very\",\n \".\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Do you think before the demonstration you\\n could send her around to my room?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n I don't see why not.\\n\\n (TO STEPHEN)\\n Stephen, when you get through showing\\n them to their rooms, go fetch Hildi.\\n I want her cleaned up and smellin' nice,\\n and sent over to Dr.Schultz's room.\\n Stephen has to be the bearer of bad news.\\n\\n STE\",\n \"ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives\",\n \"Z\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Promise me you won't scream?\\n She nods her head, yes.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Say, I promise.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n I promise.\\n Dr.Schultz moves to the door, and lightly raps on it.\\n The door knob turns.\\n The door slowly opens revealing...\\n Her husband Django, but different, all cowboyed out and cleaned up\",\n \",with Hildi this\\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1ZL\\n His eyes to to Broomhilda.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You, stay in the kitchen.\\n Stephen moves to the kitchen door, swings it open, and watches\\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\\n these two jokers (D\",\n \"\\n \\n\\n 11 7\\n\\n BROOMHILDA¢\\n Who?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Don't stall me bitch, you know who?\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n At the table? I don't know him.\\n\\n STEPHEN.\\n You don't know him?\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n No.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You wouldn't lie to me now, would you?\\n She shakes\",\n \"\\n \\n\\n !!0\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Where is he?\\n He points at the adjoining door.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Standing right behind that door.\\n Her head moves in the direction of the door.\\n He looks to the young woman;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Promise me you won't scream?\\n She nods her head, yes.\\n Dr\",\n \"roomhilda, in case Candie's people are\\n listening to us. Myself and a mutual\\n friend of ours, have gone through a lot\\n of trouble, and rode a lot of miles, to\\n find you fraulein - to rescue you.\\n He hands her a tall clear glass of water.\\n She looks at him weird, rescue me?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Please drink.\\n She absentmindedly obeys.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (.GER\",\n \"of when the conversation started.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\\n named, Sigfried.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Does Sigfried save her?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes he does, and quite spectacularly, so.\\n Now true, he is assisted in his triumph by\\n a truly, truly, remarkable sword, still, having\\n said that, Sigfried triumphs over all of his\\n obstacles not just due to his sword, but due to\\n his\"\n ],\n [\n \"three caged men are watching is the three Australian mining\\n company employees and Django, off in the distance (where they can't\\n hear what they're saying), having some sort of a discussion. That\\n includes the still bound by the wrists Django showing the three men a\\n piece of paper.\\n\\n INSERT: SMITTY BACALL'S WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE HANDBILL\\n Roy holds it in his hand as he reads and Django talks.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I ain't no god\",\n \"on the manifest? All of you\\n know I'm not suppose to be on this trip.\\n But those four men, are still back there.\\n They're still wanted. And that eleven thousand\\n five hundred is still up for grabs. And the\\n last thing they'd expect is y'all rid.in back\\n and gittin it.\\n Django is damn convincing.\\n\\n ROY\\n What's your deal? You tell us who they are\\n and we let ya go?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n \",\n \"wrapped around his waist.\\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine company beast,\\n and climbs aboard him bareback.\\n He leans over and snatches the RIFLE that Floyd kept on the wagon seat\\n next to him.\\n Grabbing a fistful of the horses mane, he digs his heels into the\\n beast's side. The pack animals SPRINGS TO LIFE under the new rider. By\\n now it should be apparent that Django brings\",\n \"killed him\\n - At which point, the authorities pay me\\n the bounty.\\n (lifting his beer)\\n Cheers.\\n The two men touch glasses, and take a drink.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What's a bounty?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n It's like a reward.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n You kill people and they give you a reward?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Certain people, yes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n White people?\\n \",\n \"'bout, y'all.\\n We found your wanted posters and book of figures\\n in your saddle bags. I gotta say, ain't never\\n heard of no black bounty hunter before. A black\\n boy paid to kill white men? How did ya like that\\n line of work?\\n Django retorts, upside down.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Well, it turns out I was a natural.\\n Ace woody laughs.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Boy, people 'round here are\",\n \"\\n JANO\\n Who?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n LeQuint Dickey?\\n\\n JANO\\n You gotta few more things to worry about\\n black boy, then what I get paid.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I ain't worried about it. I'm just curious.\\n I mean, I'm the property of The LeQuint Dickey\\n Mining Company, ain't I?\\n\\n JANO\\n Yeah.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n And you\",\n \"say once I know you better, I wouldn't\\n like to get a look at that mouth - I'm sure\\n it's a disaster - But these days I practice\\n a new profession ... . Bounty Hunter.\\n This gets no reaction from Django.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Do you know what a Bounty Hunter is?\\n The Black Man shakes his head, no.\\n As the good doctor, walks back to the table carrying the mugs of beer,\\n\\n HE EXPLAINS;\\n Dr.S\",\n \"to business. As Schultz and Gus discuss the\\n bounties, Django reads the handbills aloud from off the wall. On the\\n third one he reads, WARREN VANDERS, and a two thousand dollar bounty,\\n \\\"That one\\\", Schultz says.\\n Django RIPS IT off the wall.\\n As the winter has progressed, we see they've become a genuine bounty\\n hunting team. And Django, a genuine bounty hunter.\\n\\n EXT - PRETTY MEADO\",\n \"mean that other bunch of malarky.is.\\n\\n ROY\\n Why would a nigger slave have a wanted dead\\n or alive handbill in his pocket?\\n Floyd doesn't have an answer for that one.\\n\\n ROY\\n That black's damn convincing.\\n They get to The Cage O'Men. Roy startles them with a direct question;\\n\\n ROY\\n (pointing, behind\\n him, at Django)\\n That black ride into Candyland yesterday?\\n The Caged\",\n \"riders approach, he turns to\\n Dr.Schultz and Django, and says;\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n You know since I started fightin' niggers\\n about eleven years ago, it's been a new\\n lease on'life. And the man ridin' up here\\n now is the man responsible for all my\\n success.\\n Ace and his boys pull their horses up, kicking up dust.\\n Through the dust Ace, Brown, and Jingle Bells Cody eyeball Django and\\n Schult\",\n \"Y\\n What's your deal? You tell us who they are\\n and we let ya go?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I ain't tellin' who they are. But, you give\\n me a pistol, and a horse, and five hundred\\n dollars of that eleven thousand five hundred,\\n and I'll point 'em out to you.\\n He's got these greedy sonsabitches right on the hook...he just needs\\n one little push.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \",\n \"this\\n black and make sure he keeps up.\\n\\n JANO\\n Oh, I'll keep 'em up.\\n Jano takes the rope tired around Django's wrists.and ties the other end\\n around his saddle horn.\\n The LeQuint Dickey Mining Company caravan leaves Candyland.\\n\\n EXT - MISSISSIPPI COUNTRY ROAD - DAY\\n The Caravan makes its way down a dirt road in pretty Chickasaw County.\\n Stoic Roy riding lead horse, Floyd\",\n \"a farmer?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n No. Smitty Bacall is a stagecoach robber\\n who's hiding out as a farmer, because\\n there's a seven thousand dollar bounty on\\n his head.\\n He hands Django the scope rifle case.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n And he's all yours my boy.\\n DJANGO lays on his belly, with the Scope Sight up to his eye.\\n\\n SCOPE SIGHT POV:\\n on the Farmer struggling behind\",\n \"\\n You will?\\n Removing his long brown leather billfold from his suit jacket pocket.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n You'll pay five hundred dollars for a\\n one eyed Ole'Joe, ain't fit to push a\\n broom?\\n Django's voice cuts through the Mississippi heat.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n No he won't.\\n All eyes turn to Django.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's just\",\n \"\\n I\\\"\\n\\n DJANGO\\n How long you been here?\\n\\n JANO\\n 'bout two years.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n And you ain't paid him back yet?\\n\\n JANO\\n\\n (DEFENSIVELY)\\n No, not yet!\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n (LAUGHS)\\n You a slave too, peckawood. They just bought\\n your ass for the price of a boat ride.\\n At least they didn\",\n \"lock on the\\n cage door.\\n He looks at the three men, especially Rodney, then says;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Throw up that dynamite.\\n Rodney grabs a saddle bag full of dynamite and tosses it to Django on\\n his Horse.\\n Django wraps it around the Horse's neck, turns the beast around, and\\n without saying another word, rides back in the direction of Candyland.\\n The Three NOW FREE Mandingos, watch him ride away.\\n \\\"Who was that nigger?\\\"\",\n \"earn it.\\n\\n JANO\\n If you got something to say, say it.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n The eleven thousand five hundred dollar fortune\\n waiting for you back at Candyland, is in the\\n form of a wanted dead or alive bounty on\\n Smitty Bacall and the Smitty Bacall Gang.\\n\\n JANO\\n Who the fuck is Smitty Bacall?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Smitty Bacall is the leader of a murdering\\n gang of stageco\",\n \"'s your name young, man?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Django.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Wunderbar! You're exactly the one I'm looking\\n for. So tell me Django - by the way that's a\\n amazing name - during your time at the\\n Carrucan Plantation, did you come to know\\n three overseers by the name of The Brittle\\n Brothers?\\n Django nods his head, yes.\\n Dr.Schultz is delighted.\\n Dr.SCHULT\",\n \"the air, obscuring all visibility...\\n\\n THEN ...\\n A sudden GUST OF WIND comes and BLOWS all the smoke and dust away,\\n REVEALING in bright color focus...\\n .DJANGO standing among the two dead Aussies, and whatever is left of\\n Jano.\\n He's shoeless and shirtless, but Floyd's pistol and gunbelt sit\\n wrapped around his waist.\\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine\",\n \"\\n Who that farmer? Who cares?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well since we came here to kill 'em, he\\n just might.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What? The little man pushin' that plow?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n That little man pushing that plow, is Smitty Bacall.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Smitty Bacall is a farmer?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n No. Smitty Bacall is a stagecoach robber\\n who's\"\n ],\n [\n \" DJANGO\\n I know what they look like, all right.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\\n with me till we find them -\\n\\n DJANGO\\n - Where we goin'?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\\n That means we visit every plantation in\\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\\n find\",\n \"\\n\\n BACK TO DJANGO AND THE SPYGLASS\\n he lowers the glass.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 3 0\\n\\n BETINA\\n\\n (INNOCENTLY)\\n Is that who you lookin' for?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yep.\\n He folds the spyglass back up, and puts it back in his purse.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Where's the other two?\\n\\n B\",\n \" J42\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n (TO JANO)\\n Hey boy!\\n Jano ignores him.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I said, hey white boy!\\n\\n JANO\\n Keep your mouth shut black, you ain't got\\n nothing to say I wanna hear.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What's he pay you?\\n\\n JANO\\n Who?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n LeQuint Dickey?\\n\\n JAN\",\n \"back up, and puts it back in his purse.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Where's the other two?\\n\\n BETINA.\\n They by the stable, punishin' Little Jody\\n for breakin' eggs.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n They whippin' Little Jody?\\n She nods her head, yes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Point me in that direction.\\n She points to a shed, and keeps pointing right.\\n\\n BETINA\\n You go to that\",\n \"lock on the\\n cage door.\\n He looks at the three men, especially Rodney, then says;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Throw up that dynamite.\\n Rodney grabs a saddle bag full of dynamite and tosses it to Django on\\n his Horse.\\n Django wraps it around the Horse's neck, turns the beast around, and\\n without saying another word, rides back in the direction of Candyland.\\n The Three NOW FREE Mandingos, watch him ride away.\\n \\\"Who was that nigger?\\\"\",\n \", and says;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Where's my pistol?\\n\\n ROY\\n Floyd, you got that rifle on the wagon, give\\n 'em your gun and your belt.\\n Floyd unbuckles his gun belt, gun and all, folds it up, and walks over\\n to Django handing it to him. Django accepts it.\\n About the pistol, Floyd tells Django;\\n\\n FLOYD\\n Now don't drop it now. I just had the sights\\n fixed\",\n \"\\n\\n DJANGO\\n My woman, Hildi, is with Billy Crash.\\n You know where his shack is?\\n\\n TIMMY\\n Sure do.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n You show me?\\n\\n TIMMY\\n Will I get in trouble?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Not by the time I get through killin'\\n everybody.\\n Timmy has never heard a black man talk like that. He believes him.\\n\\n TIMMY\\n I'll show ya.\",\n \"Django, and follows Broomhilda behind\\n the kitchen door.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 121\\n\\n INT - KITCHEN (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\\n In the kitchen with the OTHER DOMESTICS, Stephen says to Broomhilda;\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n I thought you said you didn't know him?\\n Broomhilda turns around.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Huh?\\n Stephen approaches her,\",\n \"GO\\n Sure.\\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\\n\\n SCHULTZ SAYS;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n So your plan is to trackdowri your wife, and\\n purchase her.freedom? Only you don't know\\n where she is?\\n A chewing Django nods his head, yes.\\n Dr.Schultz, takes a big bite of jerky, chews for a \\\"moment contemplating\\n the d\",\n \"'s your name young, man?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Django.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Wunderbar! You're exactly the one I'm looking\\n for. So tell me Django - by the way that's a\\n amazing name - during your time at the\\n Carrucan Plantation, did you come to know\\n three overseers by the name of The Brittle\\n Brothers?\\n Django nods his head, yes.\\n Dr.Schultz is delighted.\\n Dr.SCHULT\",\n \"s lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he is the\\n owner of Candyland.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Candyland? The mandingo fightin' place?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Oh, so you heard of it?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Ain't no slave ain't heard of Candyland.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\\n \",\n \", is a understatement.\\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Who are they?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\\n little brother Raj.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Where's Ellis?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Br\",\n \"and he puts a\\n fire breathing dragon there to guard the mountain.\\n And. then he surrounds her in circle of hellfire.\\n And there Broomhilda shall remain, unless a hero\\n arises brave enough to save her.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Does a fella arise?\\n From now on as Dr.Schultz talks, he's beginning to realize something he\\n wasn't aware of when the conversation started.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\\n named\",\n \"\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Brittle riding his horse full out through the cotton field trying\\n to make an escape.\\n\\n SCHULTZ'S WINCHESTER\\n goes to his eye, he follows the rider with his rifle barrel.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Are you sure that's him?\\n Ellis gets further away...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n DJ\",\n \"begins washing the blood-off'of himself. As he washes, he says outloud;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What ya doin around here, boy?\\n Timmy steps from his watching place in the bushes.\\n\\n TIMMY\\n I was just walkin' by.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Wanna help me out?\\n\\n TIMMY\\n Sure.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n My woman, Hildi, is with Billy Crash.\\n You know where his shack is?\",\n \"takes in the environment around him. Django has never cared for white\\n folks, but these white folks are in particularly ugly.\\n\\n It's DJANGO's turn ON THE AUCTION BLOCK\\n as the THEME SONG wails its tragic crescendo, Django is brought up on\\n the auction block. He.looks down at all the WHITE PEOPLE who want to\\n buy Niggers, who look up to him.\\n His heart fills with poison.\\n\\n BACK TO DJANGO\\n walking in Leg Irons with his\",\n \"\\n Where's Broomhilda?\\n\\n TIMMY\\n Who?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Hildi, the slave girl that ran away a\\n couple of days ago. They had her in The\\n Hot Box.\\n\\n TIMMY\\n I don't know 'bout no girl.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n How 'bout that German white man I came\\n here with?\\n\\n TIMMY\\n Oh he's dead. His body's over there.\\n Django\",\n \"on the manifest? All of you\\n know I'm not suppose to be on this trip.\\n But those four men, are still back there.\\n They're still wanted. And that eleven thousand\\n five hundred is still up for grabs. And the\\n last thing they'd expect is y'all rid.in back\\n and gittin it.\\n Django is damn convincing.\\n\\n ROY\\n What's your deal? You tell us who they are\\n and we let ya go?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n \",\n \"three caged men are watching is the three Australian mining\\n company employees and Django, off in the distance (where they can't\\n hear what they're saying), having some sort of a discussion. That\\n includes the still bound by the wrists Django showing the three men a\\n piece of paper.\\n\\n INSERT: SMITTY BACALL'S WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE HANDBILL\\n Roy holds it in his hand as he reads and Django talks.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I ain't no god\",\n \"wrapped around his waist.\\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine company beast,\\n and climbs aboard him bareback.\\n He leans over and snatches the RIFLE that Floyd kept on the wagon seat\\n next to him.\\n Grabbing a fistful of the horses mane, he digs his heels into the\\n beast's side. The pack animals SPRINGS TO LIFE under the new rider. By\\n now it should be apparent that Django brings\"\n ],\n [\n \"y hunting business?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Kill white folks, and they pay ya?\\n What's not to like?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I hafta admit, we make a good team.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n But I'thought you were mad at me for killin'\\n Big John and Rodger?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes, on that occasion, you were a tad\\n overzealous. But normally, that's a good\\n thing. How'd you like\",\n \" DJANGO\\n I know what they look like, all right.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\\n with me till we find them -\\n\\n DJANGO\\n - Where we goin'?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\\n That means we visit every plantation in\\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\\n find\",\n \"ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives\",\n \"his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives, is a man with\\n a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with\\n a good plan. So, having said that, what's\\n your plan, young Django?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What'cha mean?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\\n\",\n \"to get\\n his attention, we better be talking about\\n big sweaty black males. So my character is\\n that of a big money buyer from Dusseldorf, here\\n in Greenville to buy my way into the mandingo\\n fight game. And your character is the mandingo\\n expert I hired to help me do it.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n They call that \\\"One-Eyed Charly.\\\"\\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\\n One-Eyed Charly?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's what\",\n \", cause we gotta us a fight\\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\\n\\n C\",\n \"GO\\n Sure.\\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\\n\\n SCHULTZ SAYS;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n So your plan is to trackdowri your wife, and\\n purchase her.freedom? Only you don't know\\n where she is?\\n A chewing Django nods his head, yes.\\n Dr.Schultz, takes a big bite of jerky, chews for a \\\"moment contemplating\\n the d\",\n \"himself some more tea out of a fancy tea pot, as he\\n thinks about what he's going to say next.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Look Django, I don't doubt one day you will\\n save your lady love. But I'm afraid I can't\\n let you go to Greenville in a good conscious.\\n Let me ask you a question, how do you like\\n the bounty hunting business?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Kill white folks, and they pay ya?\\n What's not to like?\\n\",\n \", is a understatement.\\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Who are they?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\\n little brother Raj.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Where's Ellis?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Br\",\n \"itates.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\\n mad at you. Take out Smitty Bacall's handbill.\\n Django removes the folded up handbill from the pocket of his tan pants.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Read it aloud. Consider it today's lesson.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n (READING)\\n \\\"Wanted, dead or alive. Smitty Bacall and\\n The Smitty Bacall G\",\n \"a reward?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Certain people, yes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n White people?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Mostly. A few Mexicans. Couple Chinamen.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Bad people?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Badder they are, bigger the reward.\\n Which brings me to you, and I must admit\\n I'm at a bit of a quandary when it comes\\n to you. On one hand, I despise slavery.\\n \",\n \"done anything for Django, just to him. So\\n understandably, he's a little suspicious.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Why you care what happens to me? Why you\\n care if I find my wife?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well frankly, I've never given anybody\\n their freedom before. And now that I have,\\n I feel vaguely responsible for you. You're\\n just not ready to go off on your own, it's\\n that simple. You're too green, you'll get hurt\",\n \"riders approach, he turns to\\n Dr.Schultz and Django, and says;\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n You know since I started fightin' niggers\\n about eleven years ago, it's been a new\\n lease on'life. And the man ridin' up here\\n now is the man responsible for all my\\n success.\\n Ace and his boys pull their horses up, kicking up dust.\\n Through the dust Ace, Brown, and Jingle Bells Cody eyeball Django and\\n Schult\",\n \" Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well I'm naturally curious, of course, but\\n there's no reason you MUST tell me. In fact\\n an air of mystery adds a dash of panache to\\n any steed. And I do believe Tony wears it\\n well. Good job Django, well done.\\n\\n EXT - THE WESTERN TOWN OF DAUGHTREY - MORNING\\n As the citizens of Daughtrey wake up, Django and Dr.Schultz ride Fritz\\n and Tony through the main street of\",\n \"to business. As Schultz and Gus discuss the\\n bounties, Django reads the handbills aloud from off the wall. On the\\n third one he reads, WARREN VANDERS, and a two thousand dollar bounty,\\n \\\"That one\\\", Schultz says.\\n Django RIPS IT off the wall.\\n As the winter has progressed, we see they've become a genuine bounty\\n hunting team. And Django, a genuine bounty hunter.\\n\\n EXT - PRETTY MEADO\",\n \"and he puts a\\n fire breathing dragon there to guard the mountain.\\n And. then he surrounds her in circle of hellfire.\\n And there Broomhilda shall remain, unless a hero\\n arises brave enough to save her.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Does a fella arise?\\n From now on as Dr.Schultz talks, he's beginning to realize something he\\n wasn't aware of when the conversation started.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\\n named\",\n \")\\n He walks through hellfire because\\n Broomhilda's worth. it.\\n After that last line of dialogue... .the two men just let a moment pass\\n as they nibble on their sandwiches.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I know how he feels.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I think I'm just starting to realize that.\\n He pours Django and himself some more tea out of a fancy tea pot, as he\\n thinks about what he's going to say next.\\n Dr.SCH\",\n \"SCHULTZ\\n Can you convincingly masquerade as someone\\n who is an expert on mandingo fighters?\\n\\n DJANGO¢\\n Why?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Because when a man has one of the four\\n biggest cotton plantations in Dixie, but\\n the only thing that seems to ring his chimes\\n is big sweaty black males, if WE want to get\\n his attention, we better be talking about\\n big sweaty black males. So my character is\\n that of a big money buyer\",\n \" \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n W7\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes. You work with me through the winter,\\n till the snow melts. I give you a third\\n of my bounties. And while we're together,\\n I'll teach you a few things you're going\\n to need to know.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Can you teach me how to make Tony do that\\n head bow thing that Fritz can do?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n That among other things\",\n \"d ya dig him up?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n A fortuitous turn of events brought\\n Django and myself together.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO DJANGO)\\n I've heard tell about you. I heard you're a\\n real bright boy.\\n\\n (BEAT)\\n I'm curious, what makes you such a\\n mandingo expert?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I'm curious, what makes you so curious?\\n Bartholomew\"\n ],\n [\n \"Hildi, this is Dr.Schultz, he\\n speaks German.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (TO BROOMHILDA)\\n I've been informed you do as well.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n It would be my, pleasure to speak with you\\n in German.\\n Schultz acts for the benefit of Miss Lara's astonishment.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Astonishing.\\n\\n (IN GERMAN)\",\n \".\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Do you think before the demonstration you\\n could send her around to my room?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n I don't see why not.\\n\\n (TO STEPHEN)\\n Stephen, when you get through showing\\n them to their rooms, go fetch Hildi.\\n I want her cleaned up and smellin' nice,\\n and sent over to Dr.Schultz's room.\\n Stephen has to be the bearer of bad news.\\n\\n STE\",\n \".Schultz's door,\\n after Calvin's sister raps on it.\\n Dr.Schultz opens the door.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Hello ladies.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n DOG\\n\\n LARA LEE\\n Dr.Schultz, may I introduce to you,\\n Hildi. Hildi, this is Dr.Schultz, he\\n speaks German.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (TO\",\n \"\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Yes you do.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Who?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n I can't tell you. Our mutual friend has a\\n flair for the dramatic, and he wants to\\n surprise you.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n !!0\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Where is he?\",\n \"are our horses,\\n Fritz, and Tony.\\n Fritz, does his head bow.\\n This makes the pretty PONY'S surrounding Bennett, giggle.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Mr. Bennett, I've been lead to believe you\\n are a gentleman, and a business man.\\n And it is in these capacities that we've\\n ridden from Texas to Tennessee to talk\\n with you now.\\n\\n SPENCER BENNETT\\n State your business.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n \",\n \"SCHULTZ\\n Yes, that does add a little character.\\n The German dentist lowers himself by the Speck brother pinned down\\n under his horse, and hands him the notebook and pen.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n If you'd be so kind Speck, as to make your\\n mark here.\\n The. Hillbilly spits in the German gentleman's face. The good doctor\\n wipes his face with a handkerchief. Then takes out a pocket knife.\\n And whispers something that can't be heard in\",\n \"' me.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Why am I scarin' you?\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Because you're scary.\\n Things have become so tense and quiet in the kitchen, that the dinner\\n table conversation begins to bleed inside.\\n We hear Dr.Schultz in the next room say;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ (OS)\\n .to speak German,with Hildi this\\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea\",\n \", and walks-behind the bar, and pours two beer's\\n from the tap into mugs. Django remains seated, and after a beat, asks;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What kinda dentist are you?\\n This makes the doctor laugh, as he pours the beer's.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I haven't practiced dentistry in five years -\\n Not to say once I know you better, I wouldn't\\n like to get a look at that mouth - I'm sure\\n it's a\",\n \"Fritz, does a little bow with his head, a neat trick the doctor taught\\n him.\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n You a doctor?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Affirmative.\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n What kinda doctor?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Dentist. Are you The Speck Brothers, and did you\\n purchase those men at The Greenville.Slave Auction?\\n\\n ACE SPECK\\n So what?\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \",\n \"accent, does have a bit of a calming influence\\n on the frightened girl.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 107\\n\\n WE CUT TO DJANGO\\n on the other side of the adjoining door, listening, waiting for his cue\\n to present himself.\\n BACK TO BROOMHILDA AND Dr.SCHULTZ\\n As Dr.Schultz calmly pours the young lady a glass of water, he begins\\n talking to her in GERMAN SUBT\",\n \" As Dr.Schultz calmly pours the young lady a glass of water, he begins\\n talking to her in GERMAN SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n I'm aware you haven't spoken German in\\n a long while. So I'll talk slowly.\\n I'm only speaking German to you now,\\n Broomhilda, in case Candie's people are\\n listening to us. Myself and a mutual\\n friend of ours, have gone\",\n \"\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n Z/\\n Dr.SCHULTZ (CONT'D)\\n In my possession. is a warrant made out by\\n circuit court Judge Henry Allen Laudermilk\\n of Austin Texas. You are encouraged to wire him.\\n He will back up who I am, and who your\\n dear departed sheriff was.\\n The Menfolk of the town with rifles, begin trading looks. Then\\n Dr.Schultz delivers the coup de grace.\\n \",\n \"Miss Lara's astonishment.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Astonishing.\\n\\n (IN GERMAN)\\n Please come inside Fraulein.\\n She does, and just'as Lara Lee is to say something, Schultz says,\\n \\\"Thank You very much,\\\" and closes the door in her face. Miss Lara looks\\n to her Mammy, and the two women head off nonplussed.\\n\\n INT - SCHULTZ'S GUEST ROOM (BIG HOUSE) - LATE AFTER\",\n \"Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I'm afraid so.\\n\\n SPENCER BENNETT\\n Well what if I say, I don't like you, or\\n your fancy pants. nigger, and I wouldn't\\n sell you a tinkers damn - what'cha gotta\\n say about that?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Mr. Bennett, if you are the business man,\\n I've been led to believe you to be,\\n I have five thousand things I might say,\\n that could change your mind.\",\n \"bs back up on Fritz, and looks to the six Slaves, in\\n leg irons.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Now as to you poor devils.\\n He tosses to Pudgy Ralph the keys to the shackles.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n So as I.see it, when it comes to the subject\\n of what to do next, you gentlemen have two\\n choices. One, once I'm gone, you lift that\\n beast off the remaining Speck, then carry him\\n to the nearest town.\",\n \"roomhilda, in case Candie's people are\\n listening to us. Myself and a mutual\\n friend of ours, have gone through a lot\\n of trouble, and rode a lot of miles, to\\n find you fraulein - to rescue you.\\n He hands her a tall clear glass of water.\\n She looks at him weird, rescue me?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Please drink.\\n She absentmindedly obeys.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (.GER\",\n \" Dr.SCHULTZ\\n What you think I am? No I don't.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1310,\\n\\n CALVIN CANDLE\\n I think you are a bad loser.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n And I think you're an abysmal winner.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDLE\\n Never the less, here in Chickasaw County\\n a deal ain't done till the two parties have\\n \",\n \", cause we gotta us a fight\\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\\n\\n C\",\n \"GERMAN)\\n Please drink.\\n She absentmindedly obeys.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (.GERMAN).\\n Now it's myself and our mutual friend's\\n intention to take you away from here\\n forever.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n I don't got any friends.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Yes you do.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\",\n \"\\n They ride a bit longer in silence.. .the good doctor composes himself...\\n then says with a smile;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n So... . now that that's settled... . what do you\\n intend to name it? Half the fun of having\\n a horse is choosing his name. For instance\\n my steed is named Fritz. He's stubborn,\\n ornery, and prone to a bad disposition, but I\\n couldn't do without him.\\n (he pats Fritz's neck)\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n Django with Schultz, earlier, inspecting and rejecting these three.\\n\\n RODNEY\\n gives Django a bad eyeball look up on his horse.\\n\\n DJANGO ON TONY\\n sees it. He's playing the role of a fucker black slaver, he can't let\\n that shit stand.\\n He yells down to the powerless man;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Gotta problem with your eyeball, boy?\\n Rodney looks away.\\n\\n RODNEY\",\n \".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\\n\\n FADE TO BLACK\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\\n The C\",\n \"ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives\",\n \", who's sure his new master is a lunatic\\n who's going to get them both killed, peeks out the closed curtains\\n on the window.\\n Dr.Schultz's suit coat sits draped over a chair. All of his weapons,\\n including his metal sliding rail Derringer contraption, lie on a table.\\n He plays piano in his button down dress shirt and gray suit vest.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n What are they doing?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I think they wonderin' why you playin\",\n \"to business. As Schultz and Gus discuss the\\n bounties, Django reads the handbills aloud from off the wall. On the\\n third one he reads, WARREN VANDERS, and a two thousand dollar bounty,\\n \\\"That one\\\", Schultz says.\\n Django RIPS IT off the wall.\\n As the winter has progressed, we see they've become a genuine bounty\\n hunting team. And Django, a genuine bounty hunter.\\n\\n EXT - PRETTY MEADO\",\n \"done anything for Django, just to him. So\\n understandably, he's a little suspicious.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Why you care what happens to me? Why you\\n care if I find my wife?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well frankly, I've never given anybody\\n their freedom before. And now that I have,\\n I feel vaguely responsible for you. You're\\n just not ready to go off on your own, it's\\n that simple. You're too green, you'll get hurt\",\n \", is a understatement.\\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Who are they?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\\n little brother Raj.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Where's Ellis?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Br\",\n \"Z\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Promise me you won't scream?\\n She nods her head, yes.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Say, I promise.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n I promise.\\n Dr.Schultz moves to the door, and lightly raps on it.\\n The door knob turns.\\n The door slowly opens revealing...\\n Her husband Django, but different, all cowboyed out and cleaned up\",\n \", cause we gotta us a fight\\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\\n\\n C\",\n \"DJANGO\\n His son's with him.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Good. He'll have a loved one with him.\\n Maybe even share a last word. That's\\n better then most get, and a damn. sight\\n better then he deserves.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1Ï¿½9\\n Django still hesitates.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\\n mad at you\",\n \"He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\\n Django is free.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.\",\n \" DJANGO\\n I know what they look like, all right.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\\n with me till we find them -\\n\\n DJANGO\\n - Where we goin'?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\\n That means we visit every plantation in\\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\\n find\",\n \"Z\\n Django.\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Betina sugar, take Django around the\\n grounds. Show 'em all the pretty stuff.\\n\\n BETINA\\n As you please, Big Daddy.\\n Dr.Schultz lowers his voice, and says to the plantation owner;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Mr. Bennett, I must remind, you, Django is a\\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\\n treated as an extension\",\n \"finds Schultz's hidden DERRINGER, he keeps it in a\\n holster around his ankle.\\n As Timmy saddles the horses, he asks;\\n\\n TIMMY\\n Do you feel bad for your friend?\\n Django rises from the body of his friend.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, \\\"I do.\\n As Timmy saddles the horses he says;\\n\\n TIMMY\\n I know just how ya feel. I lost a white\\n friend once. He drowned in the\",\n \")\\n He walks through hellfire because\\n Broomhilda's worth. it.\\n After that last line of dialogue... .the two men just let a moment pass\\n as they nibble on their sandwiches.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I know how he feels.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I think I'm just starting to realize that.\\n He pours Django and himself some more tea out of a fancy tea pot, as he\\n thinks about what he's going to say next.\\n Dr.SCH\",\n \", and walks-behind the bar, and pours two beer's\\n from the tap into mugs. Django remains seated, and after a beat, asks;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What kinda dentist are you?\\n This makes the doctor laugh, as he pours the beer's.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I haven't practiced dentistry in five years -\\n Not to say once I know you better, I wouldn't\\n like to get a look at that mouth - I'm sure\\n it's a\",\n \"\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Brittle riding his horse full out through the cotton field trying\\n to make an escape.\\n\\n SCHULTZ'S WINCHESTER\\n goes to his eye, he follows the rider with his rifle barrel.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Are you sure that's him?\\n Ellis gets further away...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n DJ\",\n \"The Basil Rathbone of House Niggers.\\n The old Man watches the caravan and the trailing dust cloud approach.\\n\\n THEN...\\n Out of the dust cloud ...EMERGE DJANGO and SCHULTZ... . on TONY and FRITZ.\\n All the Candylanders see Django, dressed like he is, up on the horse,\\n and for a moment don't know what to think.\\n Lara Lee, like her brother, is both surprised and intrigued.\\n As Stephen peers down from his perch at\",\n \"What's everybody staring at?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n They never seen a nigger on a horse before.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n What's this bizarre obsession they have\\n with. you not riding horses?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n You askin' me?\\n Dr.Schultz stops Fritz in front of a saloon, and dismounts. Django has\\n a little trouble both stopping Tony and getting off him, but it gets\\n done. Dr.Schultz keeps bombarding The Slave with\",\n \"\\n a little trouble both stopping Tony and getting off him, but it gets\\n done. Dr.Schultz keeps bombarding The Slave with questions.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n So what other archaic rituals are you people\\n verboten to take part in?\\n As per usual with this white man, Django thinks; \\\"What\\\"?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I'm just trying to get a clear idea on what\\n you can do, and what you can't do, and if\\n you can't do it\"\n ],\n [\n \" CUT TO\\n\\n INT - GREENVILLE SLAVE AUCTION - DAY\\n Back inside the three story Auction Block domed room.\\n The same room Django was sold in at the beginning.\\n Tons of WHITE BUYERS and SELLERS and BLACK SLAVES to be bought or sold\\n fill the big hall.\\n\\n ONE MANDINGO SLAVE (BANJO)\\n stands half naked on the auction block.\\n The SELLER' (SHELBY)\\n gives the crowd\",\n \", cause we gotta us a fight\\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\\n\\n C\",\n \"by hole to talk in the auction\\n hall.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n How much do you know about mandingo fighting?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Not so much... A little... Master Carrucan had\\n a couple niggers he'd fight.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Can you play a mandingo expert?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Can you convincingly masquerade as someone\\n who is an expert on mandingo fighters?\\n\\n DJ\",\n \"ain't heard of Candyland.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\\n and apparently the repellent gentleman down\\n there is the one who owns her.\\n\\n ��` TIME CUT\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 6R\\n The White Man and Black Man find a cubby hole to talk in the auction\\n hall.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n How much do you know about mandingo fighting?\\n\",\n \"...\\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\\n Django, who expected nothing less and has seen worse, doesn't blink as\\n the runaway slave is torn to bits by canine teeth ...\\n The other Mandingos are scared sick at what they see.\\n The Hillbilly Trackers root the dogs on.\\n Dr.Schultz has never seen a man torn apart by dogs before, and he\\n appears not to enjoy it.\\n Calvin, without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Dr\",\n \" mandingo expert?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I'm curious, what makes you so curious?\\n Bartholomew puts down his pool cue, and turns toward Django;\\n\\n BARTHOLOMEW\\n What you say, boy?\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 77\\n /�. Candie puts a calming hand on Bartholomew's shoulder.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Calm down Barth\",\n \"Bartholomew (still dressed in\\n the ill fitting suit), and the lanky sexy Sheba.\\n Also, at this moment, TWO MANDINGOS are having a bloody and savage\\n fight to death in this closed room.\\n An older European looking man, who's rooting for the mandingo that\\n Calvin's not rooting for, is also in the room. His name is.AMERIGO\\n\\n VASSEPI.\\n Before any introductions can be made, with his back to the new arrivals\\n \",\n \"AMERIGO\\n\\n VASSEPI.\\n Before any introductions can be made, with his back to the new arrivals\\n and his eyes on the black men fighting for their life, Calvin says;\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Why do you want to get in the mandingo\\n business?\\n That's quite abrupt and aggressive.\\n Dr.Schultz says, as if he's just been massively insulted;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n You don't intend to allow your 2nd...\",\n \" ACE WOODY\\n Good job, boy. Got any more wins in ya?\\n\\n BIG FRED\\n Yes, sir.\\n Ace gives Cody a slight head nod, and Cody SHOOTS Big Fred in the back.\\n Candie acts out mock frustration.\\n The remaining three mandingos jump a mile.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Now why did you do that?\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n He won his last fight last night.\\n Ace puts his\",\n \"\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n You got hope for his future?\\n\\n MOGUY\\n I did.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Well I don't.\\n Ace walks over to the slave in question.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n What's your name, boy?\\n The mandingo says;\\n\\n SIDNEY JAMES\\n Sidney James, sir.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n So long Sidney James.\\n A\",\n \"\\n rolls his eyes and puts up with it, and\\n all the white folks think it's so cute.\\n Meanwhile you got all these niggas round\\n here hoppin' and jumpin' to stay on your\\n good side. Well this time Snowball, you\\n gonna listen to me. You got anymore sass\\n you wanna sling my way, before they give\\n us a mandingo demonstration, I'm gonna\\n give this whole motherfuckin plantation\\n a demonstration, of ME beatin' the BLACK\\n off your\",\n \"SHEPHERD on a leash, the lead dog, that goes by the name of\\n\\n MARSHA.\\n A runaway slave named, D'ARTAGNAN, lies belly down in the dirt,\\n surrounded by the four vicious dogs, who BARK, GROWL, and SNAP at him.\\n One look at D'Artagnan tells you he's a mandingo who's been in one\\n fight too many. One of his eyes have been 'poked out. Big BITES have\\n been bit out of both his face and\",\n \"Calvin's and\\n Stephen's life long friendship exits on a different plane. Outside of\\n outside eyes, in this room, all pretense of master and slave is\\n dropped, and the number one and number two.. men of Candyland can talk\\n turkey.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What's the matter?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Those motherfuckers ain't here to buy no\\n mandingos. They want that girl. -\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n \",\n \"LeQuint\\n Dickey, got it worse then that.\\\" Then they're,\\n \\\"Let's whip 'em to death,\\\" \\\"Throw 'em to the\\n mandingos,\\\" \\\"Feed 'em to Stonesipher's dogs.\\\"\\n And then I say, \\\"What's so special 'bout that?\\n We do that shit all the time. Hells bells,\\n the niggers we send to LeQuint Dickey got it\\n worse then that.\\\"\\n He stops massaging Django's balls.\\n\\n \",\n \"pen till tomorrow.\\n Brown with his horse, yells, chases, and herds the three men away into\\n the slave pen.\\n Ace yells from his horse down to the five new mandingo arrivals, Big\\n Fred, Banjo, Sidney James, Tatum,.and Joshua.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Y'all stand over there and make a line!\\n They do.\\n Ace climbs down from off his horse.\\n Cody stays in his saddle, circling the black men with his horse.\\n\",\n \"As the sun continues to beat down on Django's head, he remembers;\\n\\n DJANGO in the SLAVE PEN\\n with what seems like a one hundred and fifty Slaves in a cell designed\\n for forty.\\n\\n WHITE MEN yank him out. of the cell, shirtless, shoeless, and lead him\\n down a hallway, into a giant round pen, an audience viewing area\\n circles the round pen floor on three different stories of the\\n structure.\\n\\n The ground floor is covered by the BIG MONEY BU\",\n \"SCHULTZ\\n Can you convincingly masquerade as someone\\n who is an expert on mandingo fighters?\\n\\n DJANGO¢\\n Why?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Because when a man has one of the four\\n biggest cotton plantations in Dixie, but\\n the only thing that seems to ring his chimes\\n is big sweaty black males, if WE want to get\\n his attention, we better be talking about\\n big sweaty black males. So my character is\\n that of a big money buyer\",\n \".\\n Candie turns his attention back to Django.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO DJANGO)\\n So Bright Boy,.Moguy here tells me you\\n looked over my African flesh, and were\\n none too impressed.\\n\\n FLASH ON\\n we see. Django looking over THREE MANDINGOS..\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n BACK TO CLEO CLUB\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Not for top dollar.\\n\",\n \"os, and the three\\n old mandingos who know D'Artagnan.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Well I'll be, D'Artagnan. Now boy, why do\\n a fool thing like run off?\\n\\n D'ARTAGNAN\\n I can't fight no more, Monsieur Candie.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Oh yes you can. You might not be able to\\n win, but your ass can fight. - Mr.Stonesipher,\\n shut these\",\n \".\\n Mr.STONESIPHER\\n Marsha...git 'em!\\n The other Trackers let loose of the leashes holding the German\\n Shepherds back.\\n The DOGS CHARGE towards D'Artagnan on his knees...\\n\\n THE MANDINGOS\\n all react to the sight of the dogs being let loose.\\n The DOGS ATTACK D'ARTAGNAN ...\\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\\n Django, who expected nothing\"\n ],\n [\n \"s lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he is the\\n owner of Candyland.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Candyland? The mandingo fightin' place?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Oh, so you heard of it?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Ain't no slave ain't heard of Candyland.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\\n \",\n \"lower then a black slaver. Black\\n slavers are lower then head house niggers, and\\n buddy, that's pretty fuckin low.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Then play him that way! Give me your black slaver.\\n Django gets that.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Can you do that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That, I can do. What's next?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n To get ourselves personally invited to\\n Candyland by Calvin Candie himself.\\n\\n\",\n \"drinks. They both take a\\n sip. Schultz hates it, Django loves it.\\n Candle turns his attention to Django.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What's your name, boy?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n His name is Django.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO SCHULTZ)\\n Where'd ya dig him up?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n A fortuitous turn of events brought\\n Django and myself together.\",\n \"land as\\n my guest.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Splendid.\\n Django and Schultz trade looks and small smiles.\\n\\n WE CUT\\n\\n EXT - COUNTRY SIDE MISSISSIPPI - DAY\\n It's the next day and a whole procession is making their way to\\n \\\"Candyland.\\\"\\n Calvin Candie, Leonide Moguy, Dr.Schultz, Django, and THREE OVERSEERS\\n (BILLY CRASH, TOM\",\n \"Ring Schultz, and\\n Django Freeman, they're big customers with\\n big pockets wanna buy a big nigger. So I\\n brought 'em out here so you could give\\n 'em a little display of our African flesh.\\n Ace takes off his hat, bows from his horse, welcoming them.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Welcome to Candyland, gentlemen.\\n Astride their horses Brown and Jingle Bells Cody just make faces at\\n Django.\\n Ace's attention goes to\",\n \"I\\n suppose I could be amenable to that.\\n How far must we trek?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Oh hardly a ride at all, We'll still be\\n in Chickasaw County. Five hours.. .tops.\\n There you can get a look at my best\\n specimens. Have dinner with my sister\\n and I. Spend the night at Candyland as\\n my guest.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Splendid.\\n Django and Schultz trade looks\",\n \"\\n\\n 1 30\\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n We got it, let's go.\\n\\n (TO CANDIE)\\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\\n actually means is, till I see you again,\\n and since I never wish to see you again,\\n to\",\n \", and watches\\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\\n these two jokers (Django and Schultz) are up to something, and now he's\\n just figured it out.\\n\\n INT - DINNER TABLE (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n You indicated earlier you would be\\n willing to part with Hildi?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Yes siree bob I did.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \"riders approach, he turns to\\n Dr.Schultz and Django, and says;\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n You know since I started fightin' niggers\\n about eleven years ago, it's been a new\\n lease on'life. And the man ridin' up here\\n now is the man responsible for all my\\n success.\\n Ace and his boys pull their horses up, kicking up dust.\\n Through the dust Ace, Brown, and Jingle Bells Cody eyeball Django and\\n Schult\",\n \" CALVIN CANDIE\\n How ya like that meat, Bright Boy?\\n Django's eyes go to Calvin, he nods his approval.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO COCO)\\n How's your Catfish, dew drop?\\n\\n COCO\\n Real good Monsieur Candie.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO SCHULTZ)\\n You spend a lot of time around niggers\\n aside from Freeman here?\\n\",\n \"next?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n To get ourselves personally invited to\\n Candyland by Calvin Candie himself.\\n\\n CUT TO\\n\\n EXT - THE CLEOPATRA CLUB - NIGHT\\n Dr.SCHULTZ and DJANGO stand across the street from The Cleopatra Club.\\n Which looks like aregular nice three story house, among other.nice\\n houses on an affluent residential block in Greenville Mississippi.\\n They open the tiny garden gate in front of the house, walk up the stoop\",\n \".King Schultz, and this is my\\n associate, Django Freeman.\\n Upon hearing Django is a free man her eyes go to, him.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n We're here for a appointment with\\n Calvin Candie and Leo Moguy.\\n\\n CLEO\\n Yes you gentlemen are expected. Please\\n make yourself comfortable. I'll inform\\n Monsieur Candie you've arrived.\\n (referring to the\\n\\n FRENCH MAID)\\n Can Coco get\",\n \" DJANGO\\n I know what they look like, all right.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\\n with me till we find them -\\n\\n DJANGO\\n - Where we goin'?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\\n That means we visit every plantation in\\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\\n find\",\n \"ieur Candie you've arrived.\\n (referring to the\\n\\n FRENCH MAID)\\n Can Coco get either of you two gentlemen\\n a tasty refreshment?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Not at the moment.\\n\\n CLEO\\n Then Coco will entertain you while I\\n inform Monsieur Candie.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n How charming.\\n Cleo leaves.\\n Django wanders over the dining room, and peers inside.\\n\\n INT - DINING\",\n \" Ix?\\n Stephen enters the dining room through the kitchen door, holding\\n roughly in his grip, Broomhilda. He holds a small Derringer pistol\\n against the side of her head.\\n Django and Schultz react.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Now it should be quite clear by now I know\\n you're not here to buy no mandingos.\\n Reason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\\n\",\n \".\\n This gets Django's, Schultz's, and Candie's attention.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What's she doin' there?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n What 'cha think she doin' in The Hot Box,\\n she bein punished.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What she do?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n She ran away again.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Jesus Christ, how many people ran away\\n\",\n \"\\n Once he's in the stable, give 'em that.\\n He reaches back in the saddle and pulls out another one.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Give that one to Fritz.\\n Timmy leads the horses away.\\n The two visitors start to follow Stephen to their rooms, when\\n Dr.Schultz pretends to remember something;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Oh, Monsieur Candie, about that matter about\\n the nigger girl we were talking about?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Nigger\",\n \"ll show off some of\\n my finer specimens.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Splendid.\\n Both Dr.Schultz and Django climb down from their horses.\\n Candie looks to a black little stable boy of about eight named TIMMY.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Timmy boy, go take their horses for 'em.\\n Fix 'em up at the stable, give 'em a load\\n of oats.\\n Django hands the boy the reigns.\\n\\n DJAN\",\n \"ason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\\n to know how much you want 'er. So instead,\\n you waste my time with all this Eskimo Joe\\n horseshit.\\n\\n (TO STEPHEN)\\n Stephen, put her in that chair.\\n Stephen sits the young lady down in Moguy's old chair.\\n With their palms against the table, unarmed, Django and Schultz\\n silently watch Candie's\",\n \"think so.\\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Let's go.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\\n before this German shakes my hand.\\n Cut 'er down.\\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\"\n ],\n [\n \" As Dr.Schultz calmly pours the young lady a glass of water, he begins\\n talking to her in GERMAN SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n I'm aware you haven't spoken German in\\n a long while. So I'll talk slowly.\\n I'm only speaking German to you now,\\n Broomhilda, in case Candie's people are\\n listening to us. Myself and a mutual\\n friend of ours, have gone\",\n \"off nonplussed.\\n\\n INT - SCHULTZ'S GUEST ROOM (BIG HOUSE) - LATE AFTERNOON\\n With the door closed, Schultz turns to the weak, frightened,\\n disoriented girl.\\n He gives her a pleasant smile.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n They call you Hildi, but your real name\\n is Broomhilda, isn't it?\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Yes. How do you know that?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \"Oh yes, I do believe you\\n were just getting ready to make me a\\n proposition to buy Broomhilda. Right?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Right.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (YELLING TO\\n\\n STEPHEN)\\n Stephen! Bring out Hildi!\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n Ix?\\n Stephen enters the dining room through the kitchen door, holding\\n roughly in his grip, Broomhilda. He holds a\",\n \",with Hildi this\\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1ZL\\n His eyes to to Broomhilda.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You, stay in the kitchen.\\n Stephen moves to the kitchen door, swings it open, and watches\\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\\n these two jokers (D\",\n \"was sold, you know where\\n she came from, the Carrucan Plantation, and\\n you know her name ... . what is her name?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Broomhilda.\\n Schultz reacts.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Broomhilda?\\n Django.nods his head yes.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Were her owners German?\\n Now Django reacts, \\\"How did he know that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, how did you know? She\",\n \" and sent over to Dr.Schultz's room.\\n Stephen has to be the bearer of bad news.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Actually... . Monsieur Candie... . there's\\n somethin' we ain't tole you yet.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Hildi's in The Hot Box.\\n This gets Django's, Schultz's, and Candie's attention.\\n\\n CALVIN CAN\",\n \", and watches\\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\\n these two jokers (Django and Schultz) are up to something, and now he's\\n just figured it out.\\n\\n INT - DINNER TABLE (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n You indicated earlier you would be\\n willing to part with Hildi?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Yes siree bob I did.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \", when she was little her mistress taught\\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n So let me get this straight, your slave\\n wife speaks German, and her name is\\n Broomhilda Von Shaft...?\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yep. Mouthful, huh?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n To say the least.\\n (stopping the horse)\\n This looks like a very\",\n \"\\n\\n 1 30\\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n We got it, let's go.\\n\\n (TO CANDIE)\\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\\n actually means is, till I see you again,\\n and since I never wish to see you again,\\n to\",\n \"Z\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Promise me you won't scream?\\n She nods her head, yes.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n Say, I promise.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (GERMAN)\\n I promise.\\n Dr.Schultz moves to the door, and lightly raps on it.\\n The door knob turns.\\n The door slowly opens revealing...\\n Her husband Django, but different, all cowboyed out and cleaned up\",\n \"GO\\n Sure.\\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\\n\\n SCHULTZ SAYS;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n So your plan is to trackdowri your wife, and\\n purchase her.freedom? Only you don't know\\n where she is?\\n A chewing Django nods his head, yes.\\n Dr.Schultz, takes a big bite of jerky, chews for a \\\"moment contemplating\\n the d\",\n \"arm from.his eyes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He ain't tellin' nobody 'bout that.\\n That's all that needs to be said.\\n\\n INT - HALLWAY (BIG HOUSE) - DAY\\n Lara Lee, Cora, and a traumatized, but cleaned up (she's dressed in a\\n domestic maid uniform) Broomhilda stand outside Dr.Schultz's door,\\n after Calvin's sister raps on it.\\n Dr.Schultz opens the door.\",\n \"off, we catch your ass an' drag you back.\\n Then we stick your bare ass to sizzle in\\n The Hot Box for' 'bout ten hours. Now here\\n you are two days later, whistlin' while you\\n work. I'm just sayin', I.wouldn' think you'd\\n have a hellva lot to whistle 'bout.\\n .I'm jus' sayin'.\\n He watches the effect his words have on Broomhilda's face.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\",\n \"ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives\",\n \"and he puts a\\n fire breathing dragon there to guard the mountain.\\n And. then he surrounds her in circle of hellfire.\\n And there Broomhilda shall remain, unless a hero\\n arises brave enough to save her.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Does a fella arise?\\n From now on as Dr.Schultz talks, he's beginning to realize something he\\n wasn't aware of when the conversation started.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\\n named\",\n \"his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives, is a man with\\n a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with\\n a good plan. So, having said that, what's\\n your plan, young Django?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What'cha mean?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\\n\",\n \"think so.\\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Let's go.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\\n before this German shakes my hand.\\n Cut 'er down.\\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \".\\n Broomhilda goes to Calvin.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Can I take away your dishes, Monsieur Candle?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Yes you may, Hildi.\\n She begins gathering the dirty dishes.\\n Candie looks up at her as she works.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n So Hildi, how you like servin at the big\\n table in the big house?\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n I like it a\",\n \".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\\n\\n FADE TO BLACK\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\\n The C\",\n \"of DOMESTIC SLAVES acting as wait service.\\n Knowing Django's a slaver, and for his dinner table privileges, the\\n Domestic Slaves despise Django.\\n Even Broomhilda will be shocked to hear him speak like a slaver, even\\n though they obviously gave her a heads up on their masquerade.\\n We pick up the conversation in mid-negotiation.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\\"5.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives\",\n \".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\\n\\n FADE TO BLACK\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\\n The C\",\n \"CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n falls to the floor.\\n Everybody is stunned.\\n Schultz looks to Django.\\n Django looks back.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (TO DJANGO)\\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room\",\n \"his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives, is a man with\\n a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with\\n a good plan. So, having said that, what's\\n your plan, young Django?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What'cha mean?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\\n\",\n \"GO\\n Sure.\\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\\n\\n SCHULTZ SAYS;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n So your plan is to trackdowri your wife, and\\n purchase her.freedom? Only you don't know\\n where she is?\\n A chewing Django nods his head, yes.\\n Dr.Schultz, takes a big bite of jerky, chews for a \\\"moment contemplating\\n the d\",\n \"\\n Django goes to stop him...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1 714\\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\\n\\n POP!\\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n \",\n \" and sent over to Dr.Schultz's room.\\n Stephen has to be the bearer of bad news.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Actually... . Monsieur Candie... . there's\\n somethin' we ain't tole you yet.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Hildi's in The Hot Box.\\n This gets Django's, Schultz's, and Candie's attention.\\n\\n CALVIN CAN\",\n \" blowing the limbs off of many of them.\\n The LAWN is SILENT.\\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n 1 30\\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n We got it, let's go.\\n\\n (TO CANDIE)\\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\\n actually means is, till I see you again,\\n and since I never wish to see you again,\\n to\",\n \"on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\\n Dicky lets out a bitch like scream.\\n The Slaves watch all this. They've never seen a white man kill another\\n white man before.\\n Dicky is pinned down under his ole paint.\\n Django watches in the dark, the German climb down off his horse,\\n pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Sorry about\",\n \", is a understatement.\\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Who are they?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\\n little brother Raj.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Where's Ellis?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Br\",\n \" DJANGO\\n I know what they look like, all right.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\\n with me till we find them -\\n\\n DJANGO\\n - Where we goin'?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\\n That means we visit every plantation in\\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\\n find\",\n \"He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\\n Django is free.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.\",\n \"Candyland grounds. Django goes\\n straight up to the stall housing Tony and says hello. Tony's happy to\\n see him. Django feeds him an apple he picked along the way for him.\\n He turns and sees the body of Dr.Schultz lying in a heap.\\n And Schultz's horse Fritz in the stable.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Saddle up Fritz and Tony.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n Timmy just stares.\\n\\n DJ\",\n \", who's sure his new master is a lunatic\\n who's going to get them both killed, peeks out the closed curtains\\n on the window.\\n Dr.Schultz's suit coat sits draped over a chair. All of his weapons,\\n including his metal sliding rail Derringer contraption, lie on a table.\\n He plays piano in his button down dress shirt and gray suit vest.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n What are they doing?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I think they wonderin' why you playin\",\n \"think so.\\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Let's go.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\\n before this German shakes my hand.\\n Cut 'er down.\\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \"hen.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n L,\\n He fires.\\n The Camp EXPLODES Blowing Horses and Riders Apart.\\n Dr.Schultz and Django lift up repeating rifles.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Let 'em have it!\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I can't see nothin'.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Just fire into the smoke.\\n The two treetop killers let loose with rifle fire.\",\n \"to business. As Schultz and Gus discuss the\\n bounties, Django reads the handbills aloud from off the wall. On the\\n third one he reads, WARREN VANDERS, and a two thousand dollar bounty,\\n \\\"That one\\\", Schultz says.\\n Django RIPS IT off the wall.\\n As the winter has progressed, we see they've become a genuine bounty\\n hunting team. And Django, a genuine bounty hunter.\\n\\n EXT - PRETTY MEADO\",\n \"PING\\n LITTLE RAJ across the face and chest.\\n MORE SLAVES gather.\\n\\n DJANGO WHIPS HIM TO THE GROUND\\n whips him on the ground, then throws the whip to the ground, picks\\n Roger's pistol off the ground, and empties it (FIVE SHOTS) into Roger.\\n To say the slaves are flabbergasted, is a understatement.\\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\\n Django,\",\n \", 8\\n\\n DOWN BELOW WE SEE\\n A LITTLE MAN struggling behind a plow, and his FIFTEEN YEAR OLD SON\\n helping him by leading the horse forward.\\n On top of their perch on the hill top, Dr.Schultz says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Keep down or he'll see you.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Who that farmer? Who cares?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well since we came here to kill 'em, he\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n falls to the floor.\\n Everybody is stunned.\\n Schultz looks to Django.\\n Django looks back.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (TO DJANGO)\\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room\",\n \"A LEE, CODY, and MOGUY.\\n DJANGO sees this.\\n The Black Man reaches behind him and comes out with a DYNAMITE STICK.\\n He tosses it on the grass among the bodies.\\n He takes aim with his pistol; and FIRES.\\n It EXPLODES.\\n Finishing off what was left of the Candie Family Unit, not to mention,\\n blowing the limbs off of many of them.\\n The LAWN is SILENT.\\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes\",\n \"\\n Django goes to stop him...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1 714\\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\\n\\n POP!\\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n \",\n \" blowing the limbs off of many of them.\\n The LAWN is SILENT.\\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\\n \",\n \".\\n Calvin...BLINK...\\n Saying nothing, Monsieur Candie turns his back to Django, climbs up on\\n his horse, then looks at the black man.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Follow me.\\n The whole caravan rides off as the dogs continue to tear D'Artagnan\\n apart.\\n\\n EXT - THE GROUNDS OF CANDYLAND - DAY\\n The caravan starts to approach Candyland. Calvin Candie and his sister\\n own the fourth biggest cotton\",\n \"\\n goodbye to Miss Lara. Miss Lara makes a big show of saying goodbye to\\n them.\\n A little cognizant of the Candie Family unit begin the walk off the\\n hill back to the big house.\\n\\n EXT - BILLY CRASH'S SHACK - NIGHT\\n Django with Broomhilda. Billy Crash lies dead in the B.G., Stonesipher's\\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Here's\",\n \"standing next to him.\\n Sidney James rolls in the dirt, screaming and holding his bleeding gut.\\n Till Cody puts a bullet in his head, putting him out of his misery.\\n Moguy, shakes his head, \\\"Typical,\\\" he thinks.\\n Django and Schultz, on their horses next. to Candid, watch.\\n Ace looks up at his boss.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Boss Candie, which one did you buy?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Well\",\n \"SHIP\\n to Dr.Schultz.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (SMILING)\\n You know what they're going to call you,\\n my boy? \\\"The fastest gun in the South.\\\"\\n\\n BACK TO SHOWDOWN\\n DJANGO stands on the top steps of what's left of'The Big House, looking\\n down at The Candie Family Unit, who all lay dead or dying on the\\n Candyland front lawn.\\n The WITNESSES can't fathom what they'\",\n \"WITH THE HAMMER TO keep him down for good.\\n The Trackers are all dead.\\n Only the dogs mad barking remains.\\n EXT - The FUNERAL - NIGHT\\n The Funeral for Calvin Candie is underway. The Preacher reads some\\n words over him.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n EXT - TRACKER SHACK - NIGHT\\n Django, half naked, splattered with blood from the axe murders, steps\\n out of the shack. He\",\n \"...\\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\\n Django, who expected nothing less and has seen worse, doesn't blink as\\n the runaway slave is torn to bits by canine teeth ...\\n The other Mandingos are scared sick at what they see.\\n The Hillbilly Trackers root the dogs on.\\n Dr.Schultz has never seen a man torn apart by dogs before, and he\\n appears not to enjoy it.\\n Calvin, without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Dr\",\n \"\\n Roscoe makes the drinks in coconut shell glasses.\\n Big Fred kills Luigi.\\n Candie and his friends cheer.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Arrivederci Luigi! Well, Mr.Vassepi, looks\\n like you owe me ten dollars.\\n Amerigo pays up the puny bet.\\n Django and Schultz get the fancy coconut shell drinks. They both take a\\n sip. Schultz hates it, Django loves it.\\n Candle turns his attention to Django\",\n \".\\n Mr.STONESIPHER\\n Marsha...git 'em!\\n The other Trackers let loose of the leashes holding the German\\n Shepherds back.\\n The DOGS CHARGE towards D'Artagnan on his knees...\\n\\n THE MANDINGOS\\n all react to the sight of the dogs being let loose.\\n The DOGS ATTACK D'ARTAGNAN ...\\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\\n Django, who expected nothing\",\n \"unarmed) Calvin Candie's two prized mandingos,\\n wearing suits they borrowed from Bartholomew..\\n This CANDIE FAMILY UNIT walk to The Big House for a few post funeral\\n drinks.\\n They enter the lawn in front of The Big House, and head for the front\\n door.\\n Broomhilda on Fritz and Timmy riding on Tony come along the side of the\\n property by some shed. They see The Candie Family Unit, all dressed in\\n their darkest finery, walking towards the\",\n \"on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\\n Dicky lets out a bitch like scream.\\n The Slaves watch all this. They've never seen a white man kill another\\n white man before.\\n Dicky is pinned down under his ole paint.\\n Django watches in the dark, the German climb down off his horse,\\n pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Sorry about\",\n \"ason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\\n to know how much you want 'er. So instead,\\n you waste my time with all this Eskimo Joe\\n horseshit.\\n\\n (TO STEPHEN)\\n Stephen, put her in that chair.\\n Stephen sits the young lady down in Moguy's old chair.\\n With their palms against the table, unarmed, Django and Schultz\\n silently watch Candie's\",\n \"\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n All three are champions.\\n Django contradicts, as he chews his steak;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Samson's the champion. The other two\\n are pretty good.\\n All the Domestic Slaves around the table STIFFEN at witnessing Django\\n contradict Calvin Candie.\\n Including Broomhilda, who's wielding the Gravy Boat. After Django says\\n that, while in shock, she over pours beef gravy on L\",\n \"with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\\n You really want me to shake your hand?\\n Django gets it.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n I insist.\\n\\n DR\\n -Schultz smiles.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well, if you insist.\\n Django goes to stop him...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1 7\",\n \" That was actually kind of funny. Broomhilda was right, all he needed\\n was a little confidence. She puts her hand on his.\\n\\n NARRATOR (VO)\\n Then... speak of the devil and the devil\\n appears.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n appears at their table.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Hello, my name is Calvin Candie, I own\\n The Cleopatra Club. And I would just like\\n to welcome an attractive couple'like\\n yourselves to\",\n \"And when I pay five\\n hundred dollars, I expect to get five\\n fights outta a nigga 'fore he roll over\\n and play dead. You've fought three fights.\\n\\n D'ARTAGNAN\\n I won every one.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Well, yes you did. But that last one, you\\n muddied the line between winning and losing.\\n Calvin climbs down off of his horse, and walks to the captured runaway\\n on the ground.\\n\\n CALV\",\n \"lock on the\\n cage door.\\n He looks at the three men, especially Rodney, then says;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Throw up that dynamite.\\n Rodney grabs a saddle bag full of dynamite and tosses it to Django on\\n his Horse.\\n Django wraps it around the Horse's neck, turns the beast around, and\\n without saying another word, rides back in the direction of Candyland.\\n The Three NOW FREE Mandingos, watch him ride away.\\n \\\"Who was that nigger?\\\"\"\n ],\n [\n \"CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n falls to the floor.\\n Everybody is stunned.\\n Schultz looks to Django.\\n Django looks back.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (TO DJANGO)\\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room\",\n \"CANDIE\\n Quit stalling and answer the question.\\n The room is quiet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n The awful truth?\\n\\n (PAUSE)\\n I'm bored, and it seems like a good\\n bit of fun.\\n Candie takes that to heart. He'll accept it for now.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Well come on over, cause we gotta us a fight\\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get\",\n \"ultz considers'Calvin Candie's words, then suddenly says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n You know Monsieur Candie... . you do possess\\n the power of persuasion.\\n Candie smiles at that remark.\\n Then SUDDENLY Schultz SLAPS the table hard with his hand, and says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Why not! Monsieur Candie, you have a deal,\\n Eskimo Joe, twelve thousand dollars!\\n The White people at the table get very happy.\\n Dr.Sch\",\n \"you are a\\n neophyte. I'm simply trying to ascertain\\n if this cowboy is taking advantage of you.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n With all due respect, Monsieur Candie, I\\n didn't seek you out for your advice. I\\n sought you out to purchase a fighting\\n nigger at above top dollar market price.\\n I was'under the impression when you\\n granted me an audience, it would be to\\n discuss business.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n No we weren't\",\n \"think so.\\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Let's go.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\\n before this German shakes my hand.\\n Cut 'er down.\\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \"a whole lotta trouble,\\n and done spread a whole lotta bull, to\\n purchase the lovely lady to my left, it would\\n appear that Broomhilda is, \\\"The Right Nigger.\\\"\\n And if y'all wanna leave Candyland with\\n Broomhilda, the price is twelve thousand dollars.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I take it you prefer the take it or leave\\n it style of negotiating.\\n Candie continuing to hold the hammer continues.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Under the laws\",\n \"\\n \\n\\n IN\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n And if you think my price for this nigger\\n is too steep, what I'm gonna desire to do\\n is, take this hammer and beat her ass to\\n death with it. Right in front of both y'all.\\n He SMASHES the arm rest of the chair Broomhilda's sitting in.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Put up or shut up, Schultz. You wanna save\\n this nigger bitch,\",\n \"\\n Django goes to stop him...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1 714\\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\\n\\n POP!\\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n \",\n \"S\\n /-. watch Calvin Candie from up above on the 2nd floor landing.\\n FROM Dr.SCHULTZ'S PERSPECTIVE\\n We see Calvin Candie, and his black slave.bodyguard, BARTHOLOMEW,\\n always dressed in a slightly ill fitting three piece suit and bowler\\n hat, among the crowd of buyers at the auction block below.\\n Candie's lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he\",\n \"ason y'all came to Candyland, is y'all\\n want Broomhilda. But y'all don't want me\\n to know how much you want 'er. So instead,\\n you waste my time with all this Eskimo Joe\\n horseshit.\\n\\n (TO STEPHEN)\\n Stephen, put her in that chair.\\n Stephen sits the young lady down in Moguy's old chair.\\n With their palms against the table, unarmed, Django and Schultz\\n silently watch Candie's\",\n \"he's just been massively insulted;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n You don't intend to allow your 2nd...\\n (referring to Moguy)\\n .to make the proper introductions?\\n Without turning towards them, Candie tells Schultz;\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 7S\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Quit stalling and answer the question.\\n The room is quiet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n The\",\n \"\\n\\n 1 30\\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n We got it, let's go.\\n\\n (TO CANDIE)\\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\\n actually means is, till I see you again,\\n and since I never wish to see you again,\\n to\",\n \"E\\n\\n (TO SCHULTZ)\\n You spend a lot of time around niggers\\n aside from Freeman here?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Not so much.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Well if'in you did,.you'd know what a\\n treat this was for 'em. You feel special\\n Coco?\\n\\n COCO\\n Yes. sir, Monsieur Candie.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n You feel special Bartholomew?\\n\",\n \"...\\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\\n Django, who expected nothing less and has seen worse, doesn't blink as\\n the runaway slave is torn to bits by canine teeth ...\\n The other Mandingos are scared sick at what they see.\\n The Hillbilly Trackers root the dogs on.\\n Dr.Schultz has never seen a man torn apart by dogs before, and he\\n appears not to enjoy it.\\n Calvin, without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Dr\",\n \" CALVIN CANDIE\\n How ya like that meat, Bright Boy?\\n Django's eyes go to Calvin, he nods his approval.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO COCO)\\n How's your Catfish, dew drop?\\n\\n COCO\\n Real good Monsieur Candie.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO SCHULTZ)\\n You spend a lot of time around niggers\\n aside from Freeman here?\\n\",\n \"with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\\n You really want me to shake your hand?\\n Django gets it.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n I insist.\\n\\n DR\\n -Schultz smiles.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well, if you insist.\\n Django goes to stop him...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1 7\",\n \"seen, I can only be\\n so interested.\\n\\n SUDDENLY ...\\n Calvin Candie comes riding up behind them...\\n\\n CALVIN CANDLE\\n Am I intruding?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Of course not.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (APPRAISING THE\\n\\n TWO MEN)\\n I swear you two are cozier then a couple\\n of cuttle fish.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n You'd be surprised\",\n \", cause we gotta us a fight\\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\\n\\n C\",\n \"\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Stephen, you just interrupted Dr.Schultz.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n (to Dr.Schultz)\\n Oh, I do apologize, doctor. My hearin'\\n ain't worth a damn these days.\\n\\n (TO CANDIE)\\n Monsieur Candie, I need a word with you in\\n the kitchen.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n What, you mean get outta my chair?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n If\",\n \",with Hildi this\\n afternoon was positively soul enriching.\\n Stephen hears this, he's starting to get the idea.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1ZL\\n His eyes to to Broomhilda.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You, stay in the kitchen.\\n Stephen moves to the kitchen door, swings it open, and watches\\n Dr.Schultz prepare to proposition Candie for Broomhilda. Stephen knows\\n these two jokers (D\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n Stephen lying on the floor, bites his tongue.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's what I thought. Now git outta\\\"here.\\n With as much dignity as he can muster, Stephen stands up.\\n Before he leaves, Django tells him;,\\n\\n DJANGO\\n When I ring this bell, you better come\\n a runnin'. You - not nobody else. While\\n I'm on this property, you my nigger\\n Snowball.\\n Stephen leaves.\\n Django lies down on the bed\",\n \"ANGE END OF THE POKER hard against Django's BARE\\n buttocks.\\n Django SCREAMS!\\n Stephen LAUGHS.\\n Stephen walks away and sticks the poker back in the fire. He goes\\n through Django's clothes and pulls out his tan pants. He tosses them on\\n the floor by the hanging man.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You leavin', that's what you can take\\n with you.\\n Stephen walks over to the hanging upside down man, and as he talks to\\n \",\n \"-LING\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n\\n (UNAMUSED)\\n What 'cha want?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I want you to pour some water in that\\n bowl for my wash up.\\n Stephen does what he's told, but with attitude.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n )O'\\n Django shuts the guest room door so the two men are alone.\\n Once Stephen's done, Django stands up from the bed.\\n\\n DJAN\",\n \"05\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n This one's yours, boy. That bed's damn\\n nice too.\\n Django walks over to the window, parts the curtains and peers out.\\n Broomhilda's gone. As he looks through the glass, snotty Stephen\\n rattles on in the background.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Feel free to touch anything you want,\\n cause we burnin' all this shit once you\\n gone. I'll have somebody knock on the\\n door when the demonstration ready.\",\n \"\\n On the count of three.\\n\\n DJANGO SCREAMS:\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n NO!!!!\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n\\n ONE ...\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n NO DON'T DO IT!!!!!\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Got to do it, boy. TWO...\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n NO!!!! !\\n Just then Stephen appears in the entrance of the barn/blacksmith\\n facility. He's holding Django's\",\n \"that's what you can take\\n with you.\\n Stephen walks over to the hanging upside down man, and as he talks to\\n him, he begins fondling Django's genitals.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n I31\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Now you were quite the topic of conversation\\n for the last few hours. Seemed like folks\\n never had a bright idea in their life, was\\n comin' up with different ways to kill your\\n ASS. Now most of\",\n \"\\n NO!!!! !\\n Just then Stephen appears in the entrance of the barn/blacksmith\\n facility. He's holding Django's clothes in a bundle under his arm.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Cap't, Miss Lara lookin' for you. She wanna\\n talk about the Old Man's funeral.\\n Oh, and she changed her mind 'bout snippin'\\n Django. She gonna give 'em to the LeQuint\\n Dickey people.\\n While still keeping a firm grip on Django's'j\",\n \"Django, and follows Broomhilda behind\\n the kitchen door.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 121\\n\\n INT - KITCHEN (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\\n In the kitchen with the OTHER DOMESTICS, Stephen says to Broomhilda;\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n I thought you said you didn't know him?\\n Broomhilda turns around.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Huh?\\n Stephen approaches her,\",\n \", when I say stop you plant roots.\\n Both the words and the tone stop Stephen dead. He turns around.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n This tiny bell on this little table...\\n .is this for you? I ring this, you\\n do fer me?\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Me or somebody.\\n Django reaches over and picks up the bell.\\n (a soft) DING-A-LING\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n\\n (UNAMUSED)\\n What 'cha want?\\n\\n DJAN\",\n \" cause we burnin' all this shit once you\\n gone. I'll have somebody knock on the\\n door when the demonstration ready.\\n Django sits down on the bed.\\n Stephen turns to leave.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Not so fast.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n I got more important things to do then\\n jaw with you.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Nigger, when I say stop you plant roots.\\n Both the words and the tone stop Stephen dead. He turns around.\\n\\n DJANGO\",\n \"funny. Django's a Freeman.\\n Stephen jerks a thumb up towards Django.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n This nigger, here?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n That nigger there. Let me at least introduce\\n the two of. you. Django, this is another\\n cheeky black bugger like yourself, Stephen.\\n Stephen, this is Django. You two should\\n hate each other.\\n Stephen uses'the special privilege he and he alone enjoys amongst the\\n blacks at Candyland.\",\n \" blowing the limbs off of many of them.\\n The LAWN is SILENT.\\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\\n \",\n \" Whatsamatter Stephen, you don't like\\n that?\\n Django takes his hand and SLAPS the old man hard across the face\\n knocking him to the floor;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's my kinda bell ringin'. Git up.\\n The old man timidly, slowly, and shaky rises off the floor - as soon as\\n he does - Django SLAPS HIM TO THE FLOOR again.\\n Then Django sits back down on the bed, looking at the old man on the\\n floor\",\n \"you are, you always know the end is near\\n 'fore the white folks.\\n With the ORANGE HOT poker, he BURNS OFF Django's other NIPPLE.\\n The smell of burned flesh smokes in the air. Stephen makes a show of\\n breathing it in his nostrils.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Damn Nigger, you smell good.\\n He walks behind Django with the poker.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You know, when you was sittin' on that feather\\n bed in\",\n \", Stephen goes over to a big fiery furnace in the\\n blacksmith barn, and begins poking a LONG POKER which lies buried in\\n the fire.\\n Django's clothes are dumped by the furnace.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n You gonna look after our friend?\\n As, he plays with the poker in the fire, he says;\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Oh yes sirree Bob, you know I am!\\n 01' Snowball and a certain naked ass\\n upside down nigger we\",\n \"door, and leads him in.\\n\\n INT - DJANGO'S GUEST ROOM - DAY\\n A guest room with a big feather bed, dresser drawer with a flowery\\n pitcher of water and basin on top of it. A little bedside table with a\\n lamp and a tiny bell on it.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 105\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n This one's yours, boy. That bed's damn\\n nice too.\\n D\",\n \"137\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n\\n (BEAT)\\n And that's where you met me. And that's when\\n you knew your goose was cooked.\\n He TOUCHES Django's NIPPLE with the ORANGE HOT TIP of the poker.\\n Unlike a lot of movie hero's, Django doesn't take torture silently and\\n stoically. This shit fucking hurts, so you best believe he screams his\\n fucking ass off, and twists in agony when he gets touched by\",\n \"jango with the poker.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n You know, when you was sittin' on that feather\\n bed in the quest room in the Big House -\\n After you slapped my ass to the floor\\n You were sayin' something 'bout my BARE BLACK\\n ass, and how you were gonna BUST IT.\\n Remember that, Bright Boy?\\n He places the HOT ORANGE END OF THE POKER hard against Django's BARE\\n buttocks.\\n Django SCREAMS!\\n \",\n \"t no one wanna see her whipped up back.\\n Django continues to watching this play out.\\n Stephen watches him.\\n Candie folds.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Okay okay Lara. Maybe after dinner.\\n During the brandies.\\n Broomhilda - dismissed - takes Calvin's dishes and heads back into the\\n kitchen.\\n Stephen takes one more look at Django, and follows Broomhilda behind\\n the kitchen door.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \",\n \"a, Bartholomew, Samson, and Goldie begin taking ten\\n steps away from the White Folks and the gunfight.\\n LARA LEE can't believe Cora's leaving her.\\n CORA is \\\"I'm sorry Miss Lara, but I never did nuttin' to that nigger.\\\"\\n DJANGO looks to STEPHEN, and takes Schultz's hidden Derringer out of\\n his pocket.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n (TO STEPHEN)\\n Let'\"\n ],\n [\n \"me.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Better not.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n You won't.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n (SMILING)\\n Better not.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (SMILING)\\n You won't.\\n They kiss.\\n Then, astride Tony, Django leaves Candyland having rescued his\\n Broomhilda from her Mountain, her Ring of Hellfire, and all her\\n Dragons.\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n goodbye to Miss Lara. Miss Lara makes a big show of saying goodbye to\\n them.\\n A little cognizant of the Candie Family unit begin the walk off the\\n hill back to the big house.\\n\\n EXT - BILLY CRASH'S SHACK - NIGHT\\n Django with Broomhilda. Billy Crash lies dead in the B.G., Stonesipher's\\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Here's\",\n \"lock on the\\n cage door.\\n He looks at the three men, especially Rodney, then says;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Throw up that dynamite.\\n Rodney grabs a saddle bag full of dynamite and tosses it to Django on\\n his Horse.\\n Django wraps it around the Horse's neck, turns the beast around, and\\n without saying another word, rides back in the direction of Candyland.\\n The Three NOW FREE Mandingos, watch him ride away.\\n \\\"Who was that nigger?\\\"\",\n \"He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\\n Django is free.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.\",\n \"can still\\n ride, high tail it the fuck out of there. Whipped and whimpering like\\n dogs.\\n\\n SPENCER BENNETT\\n on his horse with the other fleeing regulators RIDES for his life...\\n\\n SCOPE SIGHT POV\\n We see the back of the fleeing Bennett smack dab in the cross hairs.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n scope sight rifle up to his eye.\\n Schultz next to him, says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n He's\",\n \"to Timmy.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's for you. Good luck Tim.\\n (he points to\\n the Northern Sky)\\n The North star, is that one.\\n He looks to Broomhilda on Fritz.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n You gonna hafta keep up, ya know?\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n You won't wait for me.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Better not.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n You won't.\\n\",\n \" putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\\n As he,walks up to Broomhilda on Fritz, he says;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Hey Little Trouble Maker.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Hey Big Trouble Maker.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Down, boy.\\n Timmy hops off of Tony.\\n Django climbs aboard Tony. He says to Broomhilda;\\n\",\n \"wrapped around his waist.\\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine company beast,\\n and climbs aboard him bareback.\\n He leans over and snatches the RIFLE that Floyd kept on the wagon seat\\n next to him.\\n Grabbing a fistful of the horses mane, he digs his heels into the\\n beast's side. The pack animals SPRINGS TO LIFE under the new rider. By\\n now it should be apparent that Django brings\",\n \" blowing the limbs off of many of them.\\n The LAWN is SILENT.\\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\\n \",\n \", is a understatement.\\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Who are they?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\\n little brother Raj.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Where's Ellis?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Br\",\n \"Monsieur\\n Candie think it real nice.\\n\\n LARA LEE\\n Ah, bless you sweet innocent Cora.\\n\\n WE CROSS CUT WITH SHOTS\\n of Django RIDING THE HORSE on the way back to Candyland. The bare\\n backed black man riding the horse bareback, holding the RIFLE in one\\n hand, a fistful of the horses mane in the other, hauling ass against a\\n gorgeous SUNSET SKY, looks like an Indian.\\n\\n EXT - TRACK\",\n \" The Menfolk of the town with rifles, begin trading looks. Then\\n Dr.Schultz delivers the coup de grace.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n In other words marshall, you owe me\\n two hundred dollars.\\n\\n CUT TO\\n\\n EXT - TENNESSEE COUNTRY ROAD - DAY\\n Django and Dr.Schultz, who by now have ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Sch\",\n \"SHIP\\n to Dr.Schultz.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (SMILING)\\n You know what they're going to call you,\\n my boy? \\\"The fastest gun in the South.\\\"\\n\\n BACK TO SHOWDOWN\\n DJANGO stands on the top steps of what's left of'The Big House, looking\\n down at The Candie Family Unit, who all lay dead or dying on the\\n Candyland front lawn.\\n The WITNESSES can't fathom what they'\",\n \"\\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Here's your bill of sale, and freedom papers.\\n No matter what happens to me, hold on to these\\n and get out of the south.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n What's gonna happen to you?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Ain't nuttin' gonna happen to me honey,\\n I'm just sayin'. Now go to the stable, little\\n Timmy's\",\n \"back up, and puts it back in his purse.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Where's the other two?\\n\\n BETINA.\\n They by the stable, punishin' Little Jody\\n for breakin' eggs.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n They whippin' Little Jody?\\n She nods her head, yes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Point me in that direction.\\n She points to a shed, and keeps pointing right.\\n\\n BETINA\\n You go to that\",\n \"I've always been\\n sweet on you. I don't wanna bust your ass.\\n So don't make me! Now I'm gonna go shit.\\n You calm down.\\n He exits the shack to go the outhouse, leaving Broomhilda alone.\\n WE MOVE INTO A CLOSE UP OF BROOMHILDA lying on the bed. She cries for\\n Django, she cries for herself...\\n\\n .THEN...\\n She HEARS an IMPACT SOUND, and a MUFF\",\n \"A LEE, CODY, and MOGUY.\\n DJANGO sees this.\\n The Black Man reaches behind him and comes out with a DYNAMITE STICK.\\n He tosses it on the grass among the bodies.\\n He takes aim with his pistol; and FIRES.\\n It EXPLODES.\\n Finishing off what was left of the Candie Family Unit, not to mention,\\n blowing the limbs off of many of them.\\n The LAWN is SILENT.\\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes\",\n \"ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives\",\n \"- NIGHT\\n Django throws the pot of poisoned beef stew over the top of the kennel.\\n It lands on the ground with a PLOP.\\n The Angry Dogs, are nevertheless', still dogs, and greedily scarf up\\n the stew.\\n Django watches them wolf down their ultimate agony with a smile.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n You bit your last nigger, bitch? Bite on that.\\n Django lifts Timmy up on to the bare backed wagon horse.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\",\n \".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\\n\\n FADE TO BLACK\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\\n The C\"\n ],\n [\n \" DJANGO\\n I know what they look like, all right.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\\n with me till we find them -\\n\\n DJANGO\\n - Where we goin'?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\\n That means we visit every plantation in\\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\\n find\",\n \"t be anywhere in Mississippi.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n She's my wife, it's my job to look after her.\\n If Greenville's where I gotta go to find out\\n where she went, then I gotta go. Now you\\n were sayin' where I gotta go first?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n There'should be some sort of records office.\\n You know when she was sold, you know where\\n she came from, the Carrucan Plantation, and\\n you know her name ... . what is her name\",\n \" Impromptu slave auctions take place on almost every block.\\n A SUBTITLE APPEARS on the bottom of the screen:\\n\\n GREENVILLE\\n\\n CHICKASAW COUNTY, MISSISSIPPI\\n Dr.Schultz takes in this African flesh market, where human beings sell\\n other human beings, with disgust and a little bit of shock.\\n Django is neither disgusted or. shocked, he knows first hand how\\n Greenville operates.\\n As he rides Tony through town in his snappy\",\n \"oves, and wagon wheels, and slave feet\\n have to wade through to get from one end of the town to the other.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 53\\n We see Django and Dr.Schultz enter the town, and slosh their horses in\\n the mud,, down the main street of Greenville Mississippi. The buying and\\n selling of slaves is what the whole town is built around.\\n BLACK MEN, WOMEN, and CHILDREN in BONDAGE are everywhere you look\",\n \"\\n Now Django reacts, \\\"How did he know that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, how did you know? She wasn't born on\\n The Carrucan Plantation. She was raised by\\n a German mistress, The Von Shafts. She can\\n speak a little German too.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Your wife?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, when she was little her mistress taught\\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\",\n \"land as\\n my guest.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Splendid.\\n Django and Schultz trade looks and small smiles.\\n\\n WE CUT\\n\\n EXT - COUNTRY SIDE MISSISSIPPI - DAY\\n It's the next day and a whole procession is making their way to\\n \\\"Candyland.\\\"\\n Calvin Candie, Leonide Moguy, Dr.Schultz, Django, and THREE OVERSEERS\\n (BILLY CRASH, TOM\",\n \"\\n I'm on this property, you my nigger\\n Snowball.\\n Stephen leaves.\\n Django lies down on the bed. He covers his eyes with his arm.\\n A door joins Django and Schultz's room. The adjoining door opens, and\\n Schultz stands there.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Was that wise?\\n Django doesn't remove his arm from.his eyes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He ain't tellin' nobody 'bout that.\\n That'\",\n \"\\n As the citizens of Daughtrey wake up, Django and Dr.Schultz ride Fritz\\n and Tony through the main street of town..Daughtrey looks like a\\n million western towns we've seen before in movies. But to the\\n TOWNSPEOPLE of Daughtrey, Django and the German don't look like a\\n million other visitors.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n What's everybody staring at?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n They never seen a nigger on a horse before.\\n Dr.S\",\n \"ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives\",\n \"s lawyer LEONIDE MOGUY joins him.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n His name is Calvin Candle, and he is the\\n owner of Candyland.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Candyland? The mandingo fightin' place?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Oh, so you heard of it?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Ain't no slave ain't heard of Candyland.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\\n \",\n \"to business. As Schultz and Gus discuss the\\n bounties, Django reads the handbills aloud from off the wall. On the\\n third one he reads, WARREN VANDERS, and a two thousand dollar bounty,\\n \\\"That one\\\", Schultz says.\\n Django RIPS IT off the wall.\\n As the winter has progressed, we see they've become a genuine bounty\\n hunting team. And Django, a genuine bounty hunter.\\n\\n EXT - PRETTY MEADO\",\n \"get second thoughts.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Still, seventy-five dollars in your back\\n pocket is a pretty nice grub steak, but it's\\n not going to get you very far in Greenville.\\n Not to mention a slave auction town in\\n Mississippi isn't the safest place you could\\n visit. Free or not.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I'll have my freedom papers.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes you will. But say you show them to some\\n rascals, and they\",\n \", is a understatement.\\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Who are they?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\\n little brother Raj.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Where's Ellis?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Br\",\n \"He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\\n Django is free.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.\",\n \"em.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Great! Now you get hung for killin' a white\\n man. The point being is the place,is just\\n too dangerous for you.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Well I gotta go, when do I go?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n When you get more dangerous.\\n\\n EXT - CHATTANOOGA - DAY\\n Muddy and wet big city Chattanooga. We're in the back of a STORE that.\\n sells SERVANT/\",\n \"a\\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\\n treated as an extension of myself.\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Understood., Schultz. Betina?\\n\\n BETINA\\n Yes, sir?\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Django isn't a slave. Django is a free\\n man. Do you understand? You're not to treat\\n him like any of these other niggers around\\n here, cause he ain't like any of these\",\n \"itates.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\\n mad at you. Take out Smitty Bacall's handbill.\\n Django removes the folded up handbill from the pocket of his tan pants.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Read it aloud. Consider it today's lesson.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n (READING)\\n \\\"Wanted, dead or alive. Smitty Bacall and\\n The Smitty Bacall G\",\n \"this\\n black and make sure he keeps up.\\n\\n JANO\\n Oh, I'll keep 'em up.\\n Jano takes the rope tired around Django's wrists.and ties the other end\\n around his saddle horn.\\n The LeQuint Dickey Mining Company caravan leaves Candyland.\\n\\n EXT - MISSISSIPPI COUNTRY ROAD - DAY\\n The Caravan makes its way down a dirt road in pretty Chickasaw County.\\n Stoic Roy riding lead horse, Floyd\",\n \" DJANGO\\n I dunno. They put us in different boxcars,\\n and sent U.S to The Greenville Slave Auction.\\n She got sold two days 'fore me.\\n But I don't know who to.\\n Dr.Schultz takes out a long stick of beef jerky.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Care for some jerky?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Sure.\\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\\n\",\n \"a reward?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Certain people, yes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n White people?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Mostly. A few Mexicans. Couple Chinamen.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Bad people?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Badder they are, bigger the reward.\\n Which brings me to you, and I must admit\\n I'm at a bit of a quandary when it comes\\n to you. On one hand, I despise slavery.\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"Z\\n Django.\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Betina sugar, take Django around the\\n grounds. Show 'em all the pretty stuff.\\n\\n BETINA\\n As you please, Big Daddy.\\n Dr.Schultz lowers his voice, and says to the plantation owner;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Mr. Bennett, I must remind, you, Django is a\\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\\n treated as an extension\",\n \"a\\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\\n treated as an extension of myself.\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Understood., Schultz. Betina?\\n\\n BETINA\\n Yes, sir?\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Django isn't a slave. Django is a free\\n man. Do you understand? You're not to treat\\n him like any of these other niggers around\\n here, cause he ain't like any of these\",\n \"done anything for Django, just to him. So\\n understandably, he's a little suspicious.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Why you care what happens to me? Why you\\n care if I find my wife?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well frankly, I've never given anybody\\n their freedom before. And now that I have,\\n I feel vaguely responsible for you. You're\\n just not ready to go off on your own, it's\\n that simple. You're too green, you'll get hurt\",\n \"He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\\n Django is free.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.\",\n \"GO\\n Sure.\\n Dr.Schultz rips him off a piece. Django chews on it. As he chews,\\n\\n SCHULTZ SAYS;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n So your plan is to trackdowri your wife, and\\n purchase her.freedom? Only you don't know\\n where she is?\\n A chewing Django nods his head, yes.\\n Dr.Schultz, takes a big bite of jerky, chews for a \\\"moment contemplating\\n the d\",\n \"CHULTZ\\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\\n seventy five dollars in your back pocket.\\n What's your plan after that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Find my wife, and buy her freedom.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Django, I had no idea you were a married man.\\n Do most slaves take the institution of\\n matrimony seriously?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Huh?\\n\\n \\n\\n \",\n \"his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives, is a man with\\n a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with\\n a good plan. So, having said that, what's\\n your plan, young Django?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What'cha mean?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\\n\",\n \"Ring Schultz, and\\n Django Freeman, they're big customers with\\n big pockets wanna buy a big nigger. So I\\n brought 'em out here so you could give\\n 'em a little display of our African flesh.\\n Ace takes off his hat, bows from his horse, welcoming them.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Welcome to Candyland, gentlemen.\\n Astride their horses Brown and Jingle Bells Cody just make faces at\\n Django.\\n Ace's attention goes to\",\n \"freedom papers.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes you will. But say you show them to some\\n rascals, and they take them from you and\\n tear them up?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n They could do that?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I'm not saying they would, but they could.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n They do that I'll kill 'em.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Great! Now you get hung for killin' a white\\n man. The point being is\",\n \"horses in this territory.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n This is my valet, and my valet doesn't walk.\\n\\n SPENCER BENNETT\\n I said niggers -\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n Z .ate`\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n His name is Django, he's a free man, and\\n he can ride what he pleases.\\n\\n SPENCER BENNETT\\n Not on my.property, around my niggers\\n\",\n \"\\n You will?\\n Removing his long brown leather billfold from his suit jacket pocket.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n You'll pay five hundred dollars for a\\n one eyed Ole'Joe, ain't fit to push a\\n broom?\\n Django's voice cuts through the Mississippi heat.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n No he won't.\\n All eyes turn to Django.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's just\",\n \"a reward?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Certain people, yes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n White people?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Mostly. A few Mexicans. Couple Chinamen.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Bad people?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Badder they are, bigger the reward.\\n Which brings me to you, and I must admit\\n I'm at a bit of a quandary when it comes\\n to you. On one hand, I despise slavery.\\n \",\n \" \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n W7\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes. You work with me through the winter,\\n till the snow melts. I give you a third\\n of my bounties. And while we're together,\\n I'll teach you a few things you're going\\n to need to know.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Can you teach me how to make Tony do that\\n head bow thing that Fritz can do?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n That among other things\",\n \"himself some more tea out of a fancy tea pot, as he\\n thinks about what he's going to say next.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Look Django, I don't doubt one day you will\\n save your lady love. But I'm afraid I can't\\n let you go to Greenville in a good conscious.\\n Let me ask you a question, how do you like\\n the bounty hunting business?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Kill white folks, and they pay ya?\\n What's not to like?\\n\",\n \" DJANGO\\n I know what they look like, all right.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Good. So, here's my agreement. You travel\\n with me till we find them -\\n\\n DJANGO\\n - Where we goin'?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I hear at least two of them are overseeing\\n up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where.\\n That means we visit every plantation in\\n Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we\\n find\",\n \"ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives\",\n \"ANGO\\n No he won't.\\n All eyes turn to Django.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's just tired'of you toyin' with him is\\n all. And for that matter, so am I. But we\\n ain't payin' a penny for that pickaninny,\\n we ain't got no use for 'em. Ain't that\\n right, Doc?\\n Dr.Schultz realizes he's just done the one thing he's always preached\\n to Django you\",\n \"\\n Django with Schultz, earlier, inspecting and rejecting these three.\\n\\n RODNEY\\n gives Django a bad eyeball look up on his horse.\\n\\n DJANGO ON TONY\\n sees it. He's playing the role of a fucker black slaver, he can't let\\n that shit stand.\\n He yells down to the powerless man;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Gotta problem with your eyeball, boy?\\n Rodney looks away.\\n\\n RODNEY\",\n \"think so.\\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Let's go.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\\n before this German shakes my hand.\\n Cut 'er down.\\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \", cause we gotta us a fight\\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\\n\\n C\"\n ],\n [\n \"As the sun continues to beat down on Django's head, he remembers;\\n\\n DJANGO in the SLAVE PEN\\n with what seems like a one hundred and fifty Slaves in a cell designed\\n for forty.\\n\\n WHITE MEN yank him out. of the cell, shirtless, shoeless, and lead him\\n down a hallway, into a giant round pen, an audience viewing area\\n circles the round pen floor on three different stories of the\\n structure.\\n\\n The ground floor is covered by the BIG MONEY BU\",\n \"\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n You got hope for his future?\\n\\n MOGUY\\n I did.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Well I don't.\\n Ace walks over to the slave in question.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n What's your name, boy?\\n The mandingo says;\\n\\n SIDNEY JAMES\\n Sidney James, sir.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n So long Sidney James.\\n A\",\n \"SHEPHERD on a leash, the lead dog, that goes by the name of\\n\\n MARSHA.\\n A runaway slave named, D'ARTAGNAN, lies belly down in the dirt,\\n surrounded by the four vicious dogs, who BARK, GROWL, and SNAP at him.\\n One look at D'Artagnan tells you he's a mandingo who's been in one\\n fight too many. One of his eyes have been 'poked out. Big BITES have\\n been bit out of both his face and\",\n \", cause we gotta us a fight\\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\\n\\n C\",\n \"means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE.\\n The bigger nigger is mine. I just bought\\n him today. What's his name, Moguy?\\n\\n MOGUY\\n Big Fred.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n The other nigger belongs to this disreputable\\n Italian gentlemen to my right. Amerigo Vassepi.\\n\\n (TO AMERIGO)\",\n \"pen till tomorrow.\\n Brown with his horse, yells, chases, and herds the three men away into\\n the slave pen.\\n Ace yells from his horse down to the five new mandingo arrivals, Big\\n Fred, Banjo, Sidney James, Tatum,.and Joshua.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Y'all stand over there and make a line!\\n They do.\\n Ace climbs down from off his horse.\\n Cody stays in his saddle, circling the black men with his horse.\\n\",\n \"on\\n their horse, as. does Roy, the Slave in lead position on the chain gang.\\n It's also a bitterly cold night, with the breath of the seven slaves,\\n two slavers, and two horses creating clouds in the air. In fact the\\n seven chained together Slaves, with the lead one holding a lantern, and\\n all of them chugging out smoky breath, and. slightly moving in unison,\\n resemble a human locomotive.\\n The Slaves shiver from the cold on their shirtless backs, both Spe\",\n \"much the\\n same village.\\n And they too see Django ... . WOW!\\n The Caravan enters the road that leads to the front of the Plantation,\\n or The Big House as everyone calls it.\\n To the left of the Big House is big wooden ARENA built for his Friday\\n night nigger fights.\\n All the HOUSE SLAVES (the domestic slaves that work for the Candie\\n family in the Big House), and WHITE WORKERS (overseers and stray farm\\n hands) come out to greet the car\",\n \" examines he papers.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Dumas...?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Alexander Dumas. He wrote \\\"The Three Musketeers.\\\"\\n I figured you must be an admirer. You named\\n your slave after that novel's lead character.\\n If Alexander Dumas had been there today, I\\n wonder what he would of made of it?\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n You doubt he'd approve?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes\",\n \"Bartholomew (still dressed in\\n the ill fitting suit), and the lanky sexy Sheba.\\n Also, at this moment, TWO MANDINGOS are having a bloody and savage\\n fight to death in this closed room.\\n An older European looking man, who's rooting for the mandingo that\\n Calvin's not rooting for, is also in the room. His name is.AMERIGO\\n\\n VASSEPI.\\n Before any introductions can be made, with his back to the new arrivals\\n \",\n \"NIGHT\\n\\n It's night time and The Speck Brothers, astride HORSES, keep pushing\\n their black skinned cargo forward.\\n It's a very pitch black night, with only a few stars in the.sky to\\n create a little top light. It's so dark, the Slavers use the creek.bed\\n to keep from getting lost. Both Speck Brothers carry a lantern up on\\n their horse, as. does Roy, the Slave in lead position on the chain gang.\\n It's also a bitterly cold\",\n \"LeQuint\\n Dickey, got it worse then that.\\\" Then they're,\\n \\\"Let's whip 'em to death,\\\" \\\"Throw 'em to the\\n mandingos,\\\" \\\"Feed 'em to Stonesipher's dogs.\\\"\\n And then I say, \\\"What's so special 'bout that?\\n We do that shit all the time. Hells bells,\\n the niggers we send to LeQuint Dickey got it\\n worse then that.\\\"\\n He stops massaging Django's balls.\\n\\n \",\n \"the whole town is built around.\\n BLACK MEN, WOMEN, and CHILDREN in BONDAGE are everywhere you look.\\n LINES OF CHAINED SLAVES being marched one way or the other, move\\n through the muddy streets of Greenville. WHITE MEN on horses move them\\n along.\\n BUCKBOARDS filled with DOMESTIC SLAVES (HOUSE NIGGERS), and pretty\\n PONYS, driven by WHITE MEN roll through the street.\\n A YO\",\n \"...\\n As we HEAR the ATTACK ...\\n Candie.staring contest with Django...\\n Django, who expected nothing less and has seen worse, doesn't blink as\\n the runaway slave is torn to bits by canine teeth ...\\n The other Mandingos are scared sick at what they see.\\n The Hillbilly Trackers root the dogs on.\\n Dr.Schultz has never seen a man torn apart by dogs before, and he\\n appears not to enjoy it.\\n Calvin, without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Dr\",\n \"\\n rolls his eyes and puts up with it, and\\n all the white folks think it's so cute.\\n Meanwhile you got all these niggas round\\n here hoppin' and jumpin' to stay on your\\n good side. Well this time Snowball, you\\n gonna listen to me. You got anymore sass\\n you wanna sling my way, before they give\\n us a mandingo demonstration, I'm gonna\\n give this whole motherfuckin plantation\\n a demonstration, of ME beatin' the BLACK\\n off your\",\n \"for a blood sport like\\n nigger fightin'?\\n As D'Artagnan's SCREAMS and Marsha's GROWLS continue OFF SCREEN.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Naw, he just ain't use to seein' a man\\n ripped apart by dogs, is all.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n But you are use to it?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Well, him bein' German an' all, I'm\\n a little more use to American's\",\n \"ain't heard of Candyland.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well apparently, that's where your wife is,\\n and apparently the repellent gentleman down\\n there is the one who owns her.\\n\\n ��` TIME CUT\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 6R\\n The White Man and Black Man find a cubby hole to talk in the auction\\n hall.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n How much do you know about mandingo fighting?\\n\",\n \"os, and the three\\n old mandingos who know D'Artagnan.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Well I'll be, D'Artagnan. Now boy, why do\\n a fool thing like run off?\\n\\n D'ARTAGNAN\\n I can't fight no more, Monsieur Candie.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Oh yes you can. You might not be able to\\n win, but your ass can fight. - Mr.Stonesipher,\\n shut these\",\n \"the slave centipede falls off into darkness. In the darkness a\\n VOICE rings out;\\n\\n DJANGO'S VOICE (OS)\\n I'm from The Carrucan Plantation.\\n Dr.Schultz moves Fritz forward towards the darkness, raises his\\n lantern, illuminating our hero Django.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Splendid! And what's your name young, man?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Django.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Wunder\",\n \"Ask them\\n .am I a Candyland slave, or did I ride in\\n there on a horse, with a white man, yesterday?\\n\\n CUT TO\\n\\n ROY AND FLOYD\\n go to the Cage Wagon to talk with the three mandingos. As they walk,\\n Roy continues to study the handbill.\\n\\n ROY\\n\\n (READING ALOUD)\\n \\\"Wanted, dead or alive. Smitty Bacall and\\n The Bacall Gang. For murder and stage\"\n ],\n [\n \"ER - POPS into Schultz's hand from a metal sliding\\n apparatus concealed under his jacket sleeve. Once in hand, the dentist\\n FIRES one tiny bullet into the belly of Bill Sharp.\\n The tiny gun makes a tiny POP sound.\\n The shocked Bill Sharp lets out a ugly groan, and doubles over in the\\n dirt.\\n The TOWNSPEOPLE are startled.\\n As is Django.\\n As Schultz walks down the porch steps, to the fallen sheriff, reloading\\n \",\n \"Schultz, he carries a small plate of\\n rhubarb pie with him.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n\\n (TO SCHULTZ)\\n Rhubarb pie?\\n Schultz looks at the pie and the man.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n No.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Are you brooding 'bout me getting the best\\n of ya?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Actually, I was thinking of that poor\\n devil you fed to the dogs\",\n \"pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Sorry about putting a bullet in your beast.\\n But I didn't want you to do anything rash\\n before you had a moment to come to your senses.\\n Dr.Sch.ultz LIGHTS the lantern, illuminating himself, as he stands over\\n Dicky's body.\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n You goddamn son of a bitch, you killed Ace!\\n Dr.S\",\n \"brother off his horse, dead in the dirt.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n Before Dicky can maneuver either his rifle or his horse in the Germans\\n direction...\\n\\n BAM...\\n Dr.SCHULTZ SHOOTS his HORSE in the head...\\n .The Steed goes down taking Dicky with him...\\n When the dead weight horse lands on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\\n Dicky lets\",\n \"As the good doctor, walks back to the table carrying the mugs of beer,\\n\\n HE EXPLAINS;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well the way the slave trade deals in\\n human lives for cash, a bounty hunter,\\n deals in corpses.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 15\\n Dr.SCHULTZ (CONT'D)\\n The state places a bounty on a man's head.\\n I track that man, I find that man\",\n \"Dr.Schultz removes his long billfold from his pocket, and takes out a\\n one hundred dollar bill, two tens and a fiver.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n And since your late brother. won't be using\\n it anymore, I'd like to purchase his nag.\\n He removes a twenty dollar gold piece from his. pocket, and tosses it on\\n Dicky's body. He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there,\",\n \"\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Brittle riding his horse full out through the cotton field trying\\n to make an escape.\\n\\n SCHULTZ'S WINCHESTER\\n goes to his eye, he follows the rider with his rifle barrel.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Are you sure that's him?\\n Ellis gets further away...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n DJ\",\n \".\\n\\n ROY\\n Who shot 'em?\\n\\n CHICKEN CHARLY\\n The German.\\n\\n ROY\\n And why did he do that?\\n\\n CHICKEN CHARLY\\n The nigger and the German were actin as if they\\n were slavers, but they weren't.\\n\\n ROY\\n What were they?\\n\\n RODNEY\\n Bounty hunters.\\n Floyd is starting to get convinced.\\n\\n FLOYD\\n \",\n \", cause we gotta us a fight\\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\\n\\n C\",\n \"\\n Who that farmer? Who cares?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well since we came here to kill 'em, he\\n just might.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What? The little man pushin' that plow?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n That little man pushing that plow, is Smitty Bacall.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Smitty Bacall is a farmer?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n No. Smitty Bacall is a stagecoach robber\\n who's\",\n \", who's sure his new master is a lunatic\\n who's going to get them both killed, peeks out the closed curtains\\n on the window.\\n Dr.Schultz's suit coat sits draped over a chair. All of his weapons,\\n including his metal sliding rail Derringer contraption, lie on a table.\\n He plays piano in his button down dress shirt and gray suit vest.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n What are they doing?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I think they wonderin' why you playin\",\n \"body.\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n You goddamn son of a bitch, you killed Ace!\\n Dr.SCHULTZ.\\n I only shot your brother, once he threatened\\n to shoot me. And I do believe I have ...\\n\\n (COUNTING OUT\\n\\n THE SLAVES)\\n .one, two, three, four, five, six,\\n seven witnesses who can attest to that fact.\\n\\n DICKY SPECK\\n My damn legs busted!\\n Dr.SCH\",\n \"\\n Django goes to stop him...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1 714\\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\\n\\n POP!\\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n \",\n \"he's dead as fried chicken,\\n everyone 'round here blames you.\\n Ace Woody opens his black suit jacket, we see not only does he wear a\\n gun and holster around his waist, he carries a HUGE BOWIE KNIFE ina\\n shoulder holster. He removes the big blade from its sheath.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Yep, Boss Man's gone. Poor Calvin. Poor\\n goddamn Calvin. We're burnin' him in a few\\n \",\n \"CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n falls to the floor.\\n Everybody is stunned.\\n Schultz looks to Django.\\n Django looks back.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (TO DJANGO)\\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room\",\n \".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\\n\\n FADE TO BLACK\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\\n The C\",\n \", is a understatement.\\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Who are they?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\\n little brother Raj.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Where's Ellis?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Br\",\n \"on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\\n Dicky lets out a bitch like scream.\\n The Slaves watch all this. They've never seen a white man kill another\\n white man before.\\n Dicky is pinned down under his ole paint.\\n Django watches in the dark, the German climb down off his horse,\\n pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Sorry about\",\n \"can still\\n ride, high tail it the fuck out of there. Whipped and whimpering like\\n dogs.\\n\\n SPENCER BENNETT\\n on his horse with the other fleeing regulators RIDES for his life...\\n\\n SCOPE SIGHT POV\\n We see the back of the fleeing Bennett smack dab in the cross hairs.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n scope sight rifle up to his eye.\\n Schultz next to him, says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n He's\",\n \"killed him\\n - At which point, the authorities pay me\\n the bounty.\\n (lifting his beer)\\n Cheers.\\n The two men touch glasses, and take a drink.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What's a bounty?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n It's like a reward.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n You kill people and they give you a reward?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Certain people, yes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n White people?\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Here's your bill of sale, and freedom papers.\\n No matter what happens to me, hold on to these\\n and get out of the south.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n What's gonna happen to you?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Ain't nuttin' gonna happen to me honey,\\n I'm just sayin'. Now go to the stable, little\\n Timmy's\",\n \"ROOMHILDA\\n\\n INT - SLAVE PEN - DAY\\n The same shot we saw before of Django fighting his way to the bars of\\n the slave pen, to get a better last look of Broomhilda.\\n Broomhilda, as before is walked by in the distance.\\n Then, as before Django loses sight of her.\\n\\n EXT - MAIN STREET - GREENVILLE - DAY\\n We follow in front of Broomhilda being lead out of the slave pen by TWO\\n WH\",\n \"and Tony.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n Timmy just stares.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Now, boy!\\n Timmy hops to work.\\n Django bends down over the body of Dr.Schultz, he takes Broomhilda's\\n bill of sale and freedom papers out of his back pocket. He also\\n searches for and finds Schultz's hidden DERRINGER, he keeps it in a\\n holster around his ankle.\\n As Timmy s\",\n \"\\n Where's Broomhilda?\\n\\n TIMMY\\n Who?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Hildi, the slave girl that ran away a\\n couple of days ago. They had her in The\\n Hot Box.\\n\\n TIMMY\\n I don't know 'bout no girl.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n How 'bout that German white man I came\\n here with?\\n\\n TIMMY\\n Oh he's dead. His body's over there.\\n Django\",\n \"He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\\n Django is free.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.\",\n \"\\n goodbye to Miss Lara. Miss Lara makes a big show of saying goodbye to\\n them.\\n A little cognizant of the Candie Family unit begin the walk off the\\n hill back to the big house.\\n\\n EXT - BILLY CRASH'S SHACK - NIGHT\\n Django with Broomhilda. Billy Crash lies dead in the B.G., Stonesipher's\\n Buck Knife buried deep in his chest. He hands Broomhilda her papers.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Here's\",\n \"yard wooden floor.\\n\\n INT - BARN - AFTERNOON\\n Eight year old stable boy, Timmy, wipes the unconscious Django's face\\n with a wet rag. They are all alone in the barn.\\n Django begins to come to ...\\n\\n TIMMY\\n\\n (SHHH'S HIM)\\n Act like you still sleepin'.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Where's Broomhilda?\\n\\n TIMMY\\n Who?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Hild\",\n \"freedom papers.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes you will. But say you show them to some\\n rascals, and they take them from you and\\n tear them up?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n They could do that?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I'm not saying they would, but they could.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n They do that I'll kill 'em.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Great! Now you get hung for killin' a white\\n man. The point being is\",\n \"Django, and follows Broomhilda behind\\n the kitchen door.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 121\\n\\n INT - KITCHEN (BIG HOUSE) - NIGHT\\n In the kitchen with the OTHER DOMESTICS, Stephen says to Broomhilda;\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n I thought you said you didn't know him?\\n Broomhilda turns around.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Huh?\\n Stephen approaches her,\",\n \"05\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n This one's yours, boy. That bed's damn\\n nice too.\\n Django walks over to the window, parts the curtains and peers out.\\n Broomhilda's gone. As he looks through the glass, snotty Stephen\\n rattles on in the background.\\n\\n STEPHEN\\n Feel free to touch anything you want,\\n cause we burnin' all this shit once you\\n gone. I'll have somebody knock on the\\n door when the demonstration ready.\",\n \" putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\\n As he,walks up to Broomhilda on Fritz, he says;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Hey Little Trouble Maker.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Hey Big Trouble Maker.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Down, boy.\\n Timmy hops off of Tony.\\n Django climbs aboard Tony. He says to Broomhilda;\\n\",\n \"Flashbacks. In other words, from his\\n perspective, and memory. This is the,only time the story will shift to\\n Broomhilda's perspective. The strong but frightened girl is led out on\\n to the hustle and bustle, and wagon wheels and horse hoofs of Main\\n Street.\\n Broomhilda is not taken into that three story auction arena that Django\\n was sold in at the beginning. Instead She's just lifted up on a parked\\n buckboard wagon. Her SELLER (CLYDE) starts his pitch on the T\",\n \"I've always been\\n sweet on you. I don't wanna bust your ass.\\n So don't make me! Now I'm gonna go shit.\\n You calm down.\\n He exits the shack to go the outhouse, leaving Broomhilda alone.\\n WE MOVE INTO A CLOSE UP OF BROOMHILDA lying on the bed. She cries for\\n Django, she cries for herself...\\n\\n .THEN...\\n She HEARS an IMPACT SOUND, and a MUFF\",\n \"was sold, you know where\\n she came from, the Carrucan Plantation, and\\n you know her name ... . what is her name?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Broomhilda.\\n Schultz reacts.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Broomhilda?\\n Django.nods his head yes.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Were her owners German?\\n Now Django reacts, \\\"How did he know that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, how did you know? She\",\n \"IDE THE CORRAL\\n through the wooden posts, in the distance, Django watches them open up\\n the boxcar holding the females. They do their run to their pen out of\\n view.\\n Django catches a quick glimpse of Broomhild.a running with the other\\n LADIES, then she's gone from view.\\n\\n BACK TO DJANGO (PRESENT)\\n Django and Dr.Schultz on top of their horses, taking in the sight of\\n Greenville.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\",\n \"and he puts a\\n fire breathing dragon there to guard the mountain.\\n And. then he surrounds her in circle of hellfire.\\n And there Broomhilda shall remain, unless a hero\\n arises brave enough to save her.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Does a fella arise?\\n From now on as Dr.Schultz talks, he's beginning to realize something he\\n wasn't aware of when the conversation started.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\\n named\",\n \"arm from.his eyes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He ain't tellin' nobody 'bout that.\\n That's all that needs to be said.\\n\\n INT - HALLWAY (BIG HOUSE) - DAY\\n Lara Lee, Cora, and a traumatized, but cleaned up (she's dressed in a\\n domestic maid uniform) Broomhilda stand outside Dr.Schultz's door,\\n after Calvin's sister raps on it.\\n Dr.Schultz opens the door.\",\n \" The HOT BOX\\n itself is a large IRON SOLITARY CONFINEMENT CELL DOOR (from Yuma\\n Prison) built into the ground. They put a key in the lock, and the two\\n men lift the heavy iron door open.\\n REVEALING: A naked Broomhilda broiling in a small coffin like iron box\\n dug into the ground.\\n Broomhilda reacts to the sudden burst of blinding sunshine.\\n\\n WHEN ...\\n Billy Crash TOSSES the bucket of water\",\n \"me.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Better not.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n You won't.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n (SMILING)\\n Better not.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n\\n (SMILING)\\n You won't.\\n They kiss.\\n Then, astride Tony, Django leaves Candyland having rescued his\\n Broomhilda from her Mountain, her Ring of Hellfire, and all her\\n Dragons.\\n\\n\\n\",\n \" blowing the limbs off of many of them.\\n The LAWN is SILENT.\\n DJANGO'S PISTOL goes back in its holster.\\n Django walks down the front steps of The Big House, feeling tremendous\\n satisfaction in the wrath he just wroth on Candie and Co.\\n He removes Dr.Schultz's tiny Derringer from Stephen's dead hand,\\n putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"wrapped around his waist.\\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine company beast,\\n and climbs aboard him bareback.\\n He leans over and snatches the RIFLE that Floyd kept on the wagon seat\\n next to him.\\n Grabbing a fistful of the horses mane, he digs his heels into the\\n beast's side. The pack animals SPRINGS TO LIFE under the new rider. By\\n now it should be apparent that Django brings\",\n \"three caged men are watching is the three Australian mining\\n company employees and Django, off in the distance (where they can't\\n hear what they're saying), having some sort of a discussion. That\\n includes the still bound by the wrists Django showing the three men a\\n piece of paper.\\n\\n INSERT: SMITTY BACALL'S WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE HANDBILL\\n Roy holds it in his hand as he reads and Django talks.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I ain't no god\",\n \"on the manifest? All of you\\n know I'm not suppose to be on this trip.\\n But those four men, are still back there.\\n They're still wanted. And that eleven thousand\\n five hundred is still up for grabs. And the\\n last thing they'd expect is y'all rid.in back\\n and gittin it.\\n Django is damn convincing.\\n\\n ROY\\n What's your deal? You tell us who they are\\n and we let ya go?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n \",\n \"to business. As Schultz and Gus discuss the\\n bounties, Django reads the handbills aloud from off the wall. On the\\n third one he reads, WARREN VANDERS, and a two thousand dollar bounty,\\n \\\"That one\\\", Schultz says.\\n Django RIPS IT off the wall.\\n As the winter has progressed, we see they've become a genuine bounty\\n hunting team. And Django, a genuine bounty hunter.\\n\\n EXT - PRETTY MEADO\",\n \", and says;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Where's my pistol?\\n\\n ROY\\n Floyd, you got that rifle on the wagon, give\\n 'em your gun and your belt.\\n Floyd unbuckles his gun belt, gun and all, folds it up, and walks over\\n to Django handing it to him. Django accepts it.\\n About the pistol, Floyd tells Django;\\n\\n FLOYD\\n Now don't drop it now. I just had the sights\\n fixed\",\n \"killed him\\n - At which point, the authorities pay me\\n the bounty.\\n (lifting his beer)\\n Cheers.\\n The two men touch glasses, and take a drink.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What's a bounty?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n It's like a reward.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n You kill people and they give you a reward?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Certain people, yes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n White people?\\n \",\n \"this\\n black and make sure he keeps up.\\n\\n JANO\\n Oh, I'll keep 'em up.\\n Jano takes the rope tired around Django's wrists.and ties the other end\\n around his saddle horn.\\n The LeQuint Dickey Mining Company caravan leaves Candyland.\\n\\n EXT - MISSISSIPPI COUNTRY ROAD - DAY\\n The Caravan makes its way down a dirt road in pretty Chickasaw County.\\n Stoic Roy riding lead horse, Floyd\",\n \"'bout, y'all.\\n We found your wanted posters and book of figures\\n in your saddle bags. I gotta say, ain't never\\n heard of no black bounty hunter before. A black\\n boy paid to kill white men? How did ya like that\\n line of work?\\n Django retorts, upside down.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Well, it turns out I was a natural.\\n Ace woody laughs.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n Boy, people 'round here are\",\n \"and they payyou for the\\n corpse. Get it?\\n\\n JANO\\n I think so... . what did these jokers do again?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Killed innocent people in a stagecoach\\n robbery. I've got the handbill in my pocket.\\n Django digs into his tan pants and pulls out the folded up Smitty\\n Bacall handbill that Dr.Schultz told him to hang on to for good luck.\\n He hands it to Jano.\\n\\n J\",\n \"the air, obscuring all visibility...\\n\\n THEN ...\\n A sudden GUST OF WIND comes and BLOWS all the smoke and dust away,\\n REVEALING in bright color focus...\\n .DJANGO standing among the two dead Aussies, and whatever is left of\\n Jano.\\n He's shoeless and shirtless, but Floyd's pistol and gunbelt sit\\n wrapped around his waist.\\n He locks eyes with the three men in the cage..\\n He then moves towards the wagon, and unhooks the mine\",\n \"What's everybody staring at?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n They never seen a nigger on a horse before.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n What's this bizarre obsession they have\\n with. you not riding horses?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n You askin' me?\\n Dr.Schultz stops Fritz in front of a saloon, and dismounts. Django has\\n a little trouble both stopping Tony and getting off him, but it gets\\n done. Dr.Schultz keeps bombarding The Slave with\",\n \" putting it in his pocket. Then heads over to where Broomhilda and Timmy\\n wait for him with Fritz and Tony.\\n As he,walks up to Broomhilda on Fritz, he says;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Hey Little Trouble Maker.\\n\\n BROOMHILDA\\n Hey Big Trouble Maker.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Down, boy.\\n Timmy hops off of Tony.\\n Django climbs aboard Tony. He says to Broomhilda;\\n\",\n \"jango SHOOTS.\\n The Little Man down below behind the plow falls down.\\n The Young Boy doesn't know what happened at first. Then he figures'out\\n his father was just shot. He goes to him in the dirt.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n You need to keep that Smitty Bacall handbill.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Why?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n It's good luck. You always keep the\\n handbill of your first bounty.\\n They begin walking down\",\n \"He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\\n Django is free.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.\",\n \"rope, looks upside down\\n at Ace Woody, all dressed up in a black suit with a string tie, which\\n makes him look a bit like Wyatt Earp.\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n So y'all bounty hunters,.huh?\\n Django thinks, \\\"How does he know?\\\"\\n\\n ACE WOODY\\n I knew there was something fishy 'bout, y'all.\\n We found your wanted posters and book of figures\\n in your saddle bags. I gotta say, ain\",\n \"itates.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\\n mad at you. Take out Smitty Bacall's handbill.\\n Django removes the folded up handbill from the pocket of his tan pants.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Read it aloud. Consider it today's lesson.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n (READING)\\n \\\"Wanted, dead or alive. Smitty Bacall and\\n The Smitty Bacall G\",\n \"a farmer?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n No. Smitty Bacall is a stagecoach robber\\n who's hiding out as a farmer, because\\n there's a seven thousand dollar bounty on\\n his head.\\n He hands Django the scope rifle case.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n And he's all yours my boy.\\n DJANGO lays on his belly, with the Scope Sight up to his eye.\\n\\n SCOPE SIGHT POV:\\n on the Farmer struggling behind\",\n \" Django nods his head, yes.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n You have reason to be.\\n He holds out his fist, opens his hand, the coins lay in his palm.\\n All the coins have bullet holes dead in their center. He drops them on\\n top of Django.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Still think I'm too green for Greenville?\\n Dr.Schultz removes a pipe, sticks it in his mouth and says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Oh you're ready for Greenville.\",\n \"earn it.\\n\\n JANO\\n If you got something to say, say it.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n The eleven thousand five hundred dollar fortune\\n waiting for you back at Candyland, is in the\\n form of a wanted dead or alive bounty on\\n Smitty Bacall and the Smitty Bacall Gang.\\n\\n JANO\\n Who the fuck is Smitty Bacall?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Smitty Bacall is the leader of a murdering\\n gang of stageco\",\n \"riders approach, he turns to\\n Dr.Schultz and Django, and says;\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n You know since I started fightin' niggers\\n about eleven years ago, it's been a new\\n lease on'life. And the man ridin' up here\\n now is the man responsible for all my\\n success.\\n Ace and his boys pull their horses up, kicking up dust.\\n Through the dust Ace, Brown, and Jingle Bells Cody eyeball Django and\\n Schult\"\n ],\n [\n \"think so.\\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Let's go.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\\n before this German shakes my hand.\\n Cut 'er down.\\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \"ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives\",\n \", cause we gotta us a fight\\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\\n\\n C\",\n \", is a understatement.\\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Who are they?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\\n little brother Raj.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Where's Ellis?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Br\",\n \"DJANGO\\n His son's with him.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Good. He'll have a loved one with him.\\n Maybe even share a last word. That's\\n better then most get, and a damn. sight\\n better then he deserves.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1Ï¿½9\\n Django still hesitates.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\\n mad at you\",\n \"CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n falls to the floor.\\n Everybody is stunned.\\n Schultz looks to Django.\\n Django looks back.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\\n (TO DJANGO)\\n I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room\",\n \".SCHULTZ is BLOWN APART by Bartholomew's SAWED OFF SHOTGUN.\\n The room comes to its senses and attacks Django and Broomhilda.\\n\\n FADE TO BLACK\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n We FADE UP FROM BLACK to see:\\n The soles of Django's bare feet. A rope is tied around the ankles, and\\n it's obvious he's been strung up, upside down.\\n The C\",\n \"He bends down and, puts the paper money-.in the saddle bags\\n on Dicky's dead horse. With.his hands in there, he roots around and\\n finds the keys to-the leg irons. He unlocks Django's leg irons.\\n Django is free.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n There you go Django,. Give your ankles a good\\n rubbing, then get up on that horse.\\n Also, if I was you, I'd take that winter\\n coat the dear departed Speck left behind.\",\n \"ANGO\\n No he won't.\\n All eyes turn to Django.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's just tired'of you toyin' with him is\\n all. And for that matter, so am I. But we\\n ain't payin' a penny for that pickaninny,\\n we ain't got no use for 'em. Ain't that\\n right, Doc?\\n Dr.Schultz realizes he's just done the one thing he's always preached\\n to Django you\",\n \"\\n Django goes to stop him...\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1 714\\n The German crosses toward Candie, offering him his hand...\\n Candie offers his hand to Schultz...\\n The small DERRINGER POPS into Schultz's outstretched hand...\\n\\n POP!\\n He SHOOTS CALVIN CANDIE in the heart.\\n Candie has a look of shock as blood explodes from his heart, and he\\n \",\n \"on Dicky's slightly twisted leg, we\\n hear TWO DISTINCT CRACKING SOUNDS.:..\\n Dicky lets out a bitch like scream.\\n The Slaves watch all this. They've never seen a white man kill another\\n white man before.\\n Dicky is pinned down under his ole paint.\\n Django watches in the dark, the German climb down off his horse,\\n pick up Ace's discarded lantern, and walk over to the remaining Speck.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Sorry about\",\n \"done anything for Django, just to him. So\\n understandably, he's a little suspicious.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Why you care what happens to me? Why you\\n care if I find my wife?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well frankly, I've never given anybody\\n their freedom before. And now that I have,\\n I feel vaguely responsible for you. You're\\n just not ready to go off on your own, it's\\n that simple. You're too green, you'll get hurt\",\n \"\\n\\n 1 30\\n Schultz rises, puts the papers in his back pocket, .looks to his two\\n companions, Django and Broomhilda, and says;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n We got it, let's go.\\n\\n (TO CANDIE)\\n Normally Monsieur Candie, I would say,\\n auf wiedersehen. But since what auf wiedersehen\\n actually means is, till I see you again,\\n and since I never wish to see you again,\\n to\",\n \", who's sure his new master is a lunatic\\n who's going to get them both killed, peeks out the closed curtains\\n on the window.\\n Dr.Schultz's suit coat sits draped over a chair. All of his weapons,\\n including his metal sliding rail Derringer contraption, lie on a table.\\n He plays piano in his button down dress shirt and gray suit vest.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n What are they doing?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I think they wonderin' why you playin\",\n \"itates.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\\n mad at you. Take out Smitty Bacall's handbill.\\n Django removes the folded up handbill from the pocket of his tan pants.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Read it aloud. Consider it today's lesson.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n\\n (READING)\\n \\\"Wanted, dead or alive. Smitty Bacall and\\n The Smitty Bacall G\",\n \"his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives, is a man with\\n a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with\\n a good plan. So, having said that, what's\\n your plan, young Django?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What'cha mean?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\\n\",\n \"killed him\\n - At which point, the authorities pay me\\n the bounty.\\n (lifting his beer)\\n Cheers.\\n The two men touch glasses, and take a drink.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What's a bounty?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n It's like a reward.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n You kill people and they give you a reward?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Certain people, yes.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n White people?\\n \",\n \"jango and Dr.Schultz on top of their horses, taking in the sight of\\n Greenville.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n It's a spectacle out of Dante.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n You should see it from the other side.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Frankly, I don't know if I could endure this.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n You'd be surprised what you can endure.\\n\\n (BEAT)\\n Where to?\\n\\n \\n\\n \",\n \"\\n Django with Schultz, earlier, inspecting and rejecting these three.\\n\\n RODNEY\\n gives Django a bad eyeball look up on his horse.\\n\\n DJANGO ON TONY\\n sees it. He's playing the role of a fucker black slaver, he can't let\\n that shit stand.\\n He yells down to the powerless man;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Gotta problem with your eyeball, boy?\\n Rodney looks away.\\n\\n RODNEY\",\n \"PING\\n LITTLE RAJ across the face and chest.\\n MORE SLAVES gather.\\n\\n DJANGO WHIPS HIM TO THE GROUND\\n whips him on the ground, then throws the whip to the ground, picks\\n Roger's pistol off the ground, and empties it (FIVE SHOTS) into Roger.\\n To say the slaves are flabbergasted, is a understatement.\\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\\n Django,\"\n ],\n [\n \"done anything for Django, just to him. So\\n understandably, he's a little suspicious.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Why you care what happens to me? Why you\\n care if I find my wife?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well frankly, I've never given anybody\\n their freedom before. And now that I have,\\n I feel vaguely responsible for you. You're\\n just not ready to go off on your own, it's\\n that simple. You're too green, you'll get hurt\",\n \", cause we gotta us a fight\\n goin on that's a good bit of fun_\\n Dr.Schultz steps up to get a better look at the savage fight.\\n The bigger mandingo is really hurting the smaller one.\\n Schultz has schooled Django on the importance of never BREAKING\\n CHARACTER.' Well now the good doctor must practice what he preaches.\\n Which means not only must he watch. the two men beat each other to\\n death, he must appear to convincingly enjoy it.\\n\\n C\",\n \"\\n Now Django reacts, \\\"How did he know that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, how did you know? She wasn't born on\\n The Carrucan Plantation. She was raised by\\n a German mistress, The Von Shafts. She can\\n speak a little German too.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Your wife?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Yeah, when she was little her mistress taught\\n her so she'd have somebody to talk German with.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n\",\n \"a\\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\\n treated as an extension of myself.\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Understood., Schultz. Betina?\\n\\n BETINA\\n Yes, sir?\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Django isn't a slave. Django is a free\\n man. Do you understand? You're not to treat\\n him like any of these other niggers around\\n here, cause he ain't like any of these\",\n \"Z\\n Django.\\n\\n SPENCER\\n Betina sugar, take Django around the\\n grounds. Show 'em all the pretty stuff.\\n\\n BETINA\\n As you please, Big Daddy.\\n Dr.Schultz lowers his voice, and says to the plantation owner;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Mr. Bennett, I must remind, you, Django is a\\n free man. He cannot be treated like a slave.\\n Within the bounds of good taste, he must be\\n treated as an extension\",\n \"ridden quite a few miles\\n together, ride their horses in the Tennessee countryside, on the way to\\n Gatlinburg. Dr.Schultz is dressed in one of his nearly identical grey\\n business suits, and Django is still dressed in his slave pants,\\n Schultz's button down dress shirt, and Ace Speck's winter coat.\\n Somewhere along the way a pair of shoes have appeared on'his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives\",\n \"\\n Django with Schultz, earlier, inspecting and rejecting these three.\\n\\n RODNEY\\n gives Django a bad eyeball look up on his horse.\\n\\n DJANGO ON TONY\\n sees it. He's playing the role of a fucker black slaver, he can't let\\n that shit stand.\\n He yells down to the powerless man;\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Gotta problem with your eyeball, boy?\\n Rodney looks away.\\n\\n RODNEY\",\n \")\\n He walks through hellfire because\\n Broomhilda's worth. it.\\n After that last line of dialogue... .the two men just let a moment pass\\n as they nibble on their sandwiches.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n I know how he feels.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n I think I'm just starting to realize that.\\n He pours Django and himself some more tea out of a fancy tea pot, as he\\n thinks about what he's going to say next.\\n Dr.SCH\",\n \"think so.\\n Schultz looks to Django and Broomhilda.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Let's go.\\n\\n CALVIN CANDIE\\n Bartholomew, if she tries to leave here\\n before this German shakes my hand.\\n Cut 'er down.\\n Schultz looks to Django... . then to Candle..\\n .and then with a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye, asks\\n\\n CANDLE;\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\",\n \"his feet.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n One needs a plan, son. These are brutal\\n times. A man who survives, is a man with\\n a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with\\n a good plan. So, having said that, what's\\n your plan, young Django?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What'cha mean?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\\n\",\n \"and he puts a\\n fire breathing dragon there to guard the mountain.\\n And. then he surrounds her in circle of hellfire.\\n And there Broomhilda shall remain, unless a hero\\n arises brave enough to save her.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Does a fella arise?\\n From now on as Dr.Schultz talks, he's beginning to realize something he\\n wasn't aware of when the conversation started.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes Django, as a matter he does. A fella\\n named\",\n \"DJANGO\\n His son's with him.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Good. He'll have a loved one with him.\\n Maybe even share a last word. That's\\n better then most get, and a damn. sight\\n better then he deserves.\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 1Ï¿½9\\n Django still hesitates.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not\\n mad at you\",\n \"SCHULTZ\\n So, Django, what do you intend to name him?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Who?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Your horse?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n What horse?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ'\\n The horse you're riding.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n This ain't my horse.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Yes it is.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n No it ain't, it's your horse. I'm just\",\n \", is a understatement.\\n Dr.Schultz rides his horse up quickly, rifle in his hand. He sees\\n Django, and the two dead bodies.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Who are they?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n That's John Brittle, and that's his\\n little brother Raj.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Where's Ellis?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's the one hightailin' it across that\\n field right now.\\n Ellis Br\",\n \" Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Well I'm naturally curious, of course, but\\n there's no reason you MUST tell me. In fact\\n an air of mystery adds a dash of panache to\\n any steed. And I do believe Tony wears it\\n well. Good job Django, well done.\\n\\n EXT - THE WESTERN TOWN OF DAUGHTREY - MORNING\\n As the citizens of Daughtrey wake up, Django and Dr.Schultz ride Fritz\\n and Tony through the main street of\",\n \"Dr.Schultz, good to see you again.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Mr.Moguy, thank you for your assistance\\n in creating the opportunity for this\\n appointment.\\n Mr.MOGUY\\n Nonsense, it's my job.\\n\\n (CON'T)\\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n \\n\\n 73\\n Mr.MOGUY\\n\\n (CON'T)\\n\\n (LOOKING AT\\n\\n DJANGO)\",\n \"ANGO\\n No he won't.\\n All eyes turn to Django.\\n\\n DJANGO\\n He's just tired'of you toyin' with him is\\n all. And for that matter, so am I. But we\\n ain't payin' a penny for that pickaninny,\\n we ain't got no use for 'em. Ain't that\\n right, Doc?\\n Dr.Schultz realizes he's just done the one thing he's always preached\\n to Django you\",\n \"CHULTZ\\n Well, after this Brittle business is behind\\n us, you'll be a free man, with a horse, and\\n seventy five dollars in your back pocket.\\n What's your plan after that?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Find my wife, and buy her freedom.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Django, I had no idea you were a married man.\\n Do most slaves take the institution of\\n matrimony seriously?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Huh?\\n\\n \\n\\n \",\n \"SCHULTZ\\n Can you convincingly masquerade as someone\\n who is an expert on mandingo fighters?\\n\\n DJANGO¢\\n Why?\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Because when a man has one of the four\\n biggest cotton plantations in Dixie, but\\n the only thing that seems to ring his chimes\\n is big sweaty black males, if WE want to get\\n his attention, we better be talking about\\n big sweaty black males. So my character is\\n that of a big money buyer\",\n \"himself some more tea out of a fancy tea pot, as he\\n thinks about what he's going to say next.\\n Dr.SCHULTZ\\n Look Django, I don't doubt one day you will\\n save your lady love. But I'm afraid I can't\\n let you go to Greenville in a good conscious.\\n Let me ask you a question, how do you like\\n the bounty hunting business?\\n\\n DJANGO\\n Kill white folks, and they pay ya?\\n What's not to like?\\n\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["How does Django earn his freedom?","How does Schultz acquire Django from Dicky Speck?","Why does Schultz shoot and kill Candie?","How does Candie become aware of Schultz and Django's plans?","Who kills Schultz?","What does Stephen intend to be Django's fate after the death of his master?","After escaping being sent to the mines, what did Django need to retrieve from the Candyland plantation along with Broomhilde?","What skill allow Schultz to convey his plans to Broomhilde covertly?","How does Django' convince the men taking him to be sold to the mines that he is actually a bounty hunter?","Who is Django searching for?","Why does Dr Schultz want to team up with Django?","What does Dr Schultz do for a living?","What happens to the Django-Schultz dynamic?","What are Mandingo fights?","Why do Schultz and Django visit Candie?","How does Schultz convey the plans to Broomhilda?","When does Schultz's and Django's plan fall apart?","Who kills Candie's henchmen at the end? ","Why does Schultz kill Candie?","How did Django deal with Stephen at the end of the story?","Who did Django \"ride off into the sunset\" with at the end?","What valuable information did Django and Schultz uncover when they traveled to Mississippi in 1859?","Schultz offered Django his freedom in exchange for what service?","What was the name given to the brutal wrestling matches where the slaves fought to the death?","What made Butch Pooch kills Schultz?","Where did Django find Broomhilda's freedom papers?","En route to the mine, what did Django show his escorts to convince them that he was a bounty hunter?","After Schultz was killed, why did Django surrender?","What is the reason why Schultz felt so responsible for Django?"],"string":"[\n \"How does Django earn his freedom?\",\n \"How does Schultz acquire Django from Dicky Speck?\",\n \"Why does Schultz shoot and kill Candie?\",\n \"How does Candie become aware of Schultz and Django's plans?\",\n \"Who kills Schultz?\",\n \"What does Stephen intend to be Django's fate after the death of his master?\",\n \"After escaping being sent to the mines, what did Django need to retrieve from the Candyland plantation along with Broomhilde?\",\n \"What skill allow Schultz to convey his plans to Broomhilde covertly?\",\n \"How does Django' convince the men taking him to be sold to the mines that he is actually a bounty hunter?\",\n \"Who is Django searching for?\",\n \"Why does Dr Schultz want to team up with Django?\",\n \"What does Dr Schultz do for a living?\",\n \"What happens to the Django-Schultz dynamic?\",\n \"What are Mandingo fights?\",\n \"Why do Schultz and Django visit Candie?\",\n \"How does Schultz convey the plans to Broomhilda?\",\n \"When does Schultz's and Django's plan fall apart?\",\n \"Who kills Candie's henchmen at the end? \",\n \"Why does Schultz kill Candie?\",\n \"How did Django deal with Stephen at the end of the story?\",\n \"Who did Django \\\"ride off into the sunset\\\" with at the end?\",\n \"What valuable information did Django and Schultz uncover when they traveled to Mississippi in 1859?\",\n \"Schultz offered Django his freedom in exchange for what service?\",\n \"What was the name given to the brutal wrestling matches where the slaves fought to the death?\",\n \"What made Butch Pooch kills Schultz?\",\n \"Where did Django find Broomhilda's freedom papers?\",\n \"En route to the mine, what did Django show his escorts to convince them that he was a bounty hunter?\",\n \"After Schultz was killed, why did Django surrender?\",\n \"What is the reason why Schultz felt so responsible for Django?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["By helping Schultz track down the Brittle brothers","He helped track down the Brittle Brothers"],["He buys him","He buys him from the Speck brothers."],["His repeated threats on Broomhilda's life.","Candie threatened to kill Broomhilde"],["His slave, Stephen figures out that Django and Broomhilde know each other.","He is alerted by his house slave Stephen."],["Butch pooch","Butch Pooch."],["That Django would be sent to the mines and worked to death","To be sold to a mine and worked to death. "],["Broomhilde's freedom papers inside of Schultz's pocket?","Broomhilde's freedom papers"],["She speaks German? ","He speaks German."],["With the handbill from his first bounty kill","He shows them the handbill from his first bounty"],["His wife, Broomhilda","His wife"],["He needs Django to identify the Brittle Brothers","Because Django can identify the Brittle brothers. "],["Bounty Hunter","Bounty hunter."],["Goes from Master and Slave to Master and Apprentice.","Schultz dies"],["It's a fight between 2 black slaves to the death","Wrestling matches where slaves are forced to fight to the death"],["Because Candie has Django's wife as a slave","To free Django's wife"],["By speaking to her in German","In German"],["During a dinner party with Candie","When Stephen becomes suspicious of them"],["Django","Django."],["Because Candie threatened to kill Broomhilda after Schultz refused to shake Candie's hand","He threatened to kill Broomhilda."],["He kneecapped him and then blew up the mansion with the incapacitated Stephen inside.","He kneecaps him."],["He rode off with Broomhilda.","Hi wife, Broomhilda"],["They learned the identity of Broomhilda's owner.","The identity of Broomhilda's owner."],["Django would help him track down the Brittle brothers.","His help in identifying the Brittle brothers."],["They were called Mandingo fights.","Mandingo fights."],["Schultz killed Candie with a concealed gun.","He killed Candie."],["In the pocket of the deceased Dr. Schultz.","In Shultz's pocket."],["Django showed them the handbill that Schultz had given him.","A good luck handbill from his first kill."],["He surrendered because Broomhilda was taken hostage.","Broomhilda was taken hostage."],["Django was the first person that Schultz freed.","He is the first person he freed from slavery."]],"string":"[\n [\n \"By helping Schultz track down the Brittle brothers\",\n \"He helped track down the Brittle Brothers\"\n ],\n [\n \"He buys him\",\n \"He buys him from the Speck brothers.\"\n ],\n [\n \"His repeated threats on Broomhilda's life.\",\n \"Candie threatened to kill Broomhilde\"\n ],\n [\n \"His slave, Stephen figures out that Django and Broomhilde know each other.\",\n \"He is alerted by his house slave Stephen.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Butch pooch\",\n \"Butch Pooch.\"\n ],\n [\n \"That Django would be sent to the mines and worked to death\",\n \"To be sold to a mine and worked to death. \"\n ],\n [\n \"Broomhilde's freedom papers inside of Schultz's pocket?\",\n \"Broomhilde's freedom papers\"\n ],\n [\n \"She speaks German? \",\n \"He speaks German.\"\n ],\n [\n \"With the handbill from his first bounty kill\",\n \"He shows them the handbill from his first bounty\"\n ],\n [\n \"His wife, Broomhilda\",\n \"His wife\"\n ],\n [\n \"He needs Django to identify the Brittle Brothers\",\n \"Because Django can identify the Brittle brothers. \"\n ],\n [\n \"Bounty Hunter\",\n \"Bounty hunter.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Goes from Master and Slave to Master and Apprentice.\",\n \"Schultz dies\"\n ],\n [\n \"It's a fight between 2 black slaves to the death\",\n \"Wrestling matches where slaves are forced to fight to the death\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because Candie has Django's wife as a slave\",\n \"To free Django's wife\"\n ],\n [\n \"By speaking to her in German\",\n \"In German\"\n ],\n [\n \"During a dinner party with Candie\",\n \"When Stephen becomes suspicious of them\"\n ],\n [\n \"Django\",\n \"Django.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because Candie threatened to kill Broomhilda after Schultz refused to shake Candie's hand\",\n \"He threatened to kill Broomhilda.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He kneecapped him and then blew up the mansion with the incapacitated Stephen inside.\",\n \"He kneecaps him.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He rode off with Broomhilda.\",\n \"Hi wife, Broomhilda\"\n ],\n [\n \"They learned the identity of Broomhilda's owner.\",\n \"The identity of Broomhilda's owner.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Django would help him track down the Brittle brothers.\",\n \"His help in identifying the Brittle brothers.\"\n ],\n [\n \"They were called Mandingo fights.\",\n \"Mandingo fights.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Schultz killed Candie with a concealed gun.\",\n \"He killed Candie.\"\n ],\n [\n \"In the pocket of the deceased Dr. Schultz.\",\n \"In Shultz's pocket.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Django showed them the handbill that Schultz had given him.\",\n \"A good luck handbill from his first kill.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He surrendered because Broomhilda was taken hostage.\",\n \"Broomhilda was taken hostage.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Django was the first person that Schultz freed.\",\n \"He is the first person he freed from slavery.\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"a49568c001cfa6403a22f0138c5668d8b211c9e8"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":24,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["79 INT. DOUG'S OFFICE\n\n\n HANDS\n\n Russians, I didn't think it would be\n the Russians.\n\n DOUG\n\n Boris the Blade? I heard of him,\n isn't he supposed to be a short little\n fucker that's covered in scars?\n\n BTT\n\n Sneaky little shit one of the Russian\n dissidents, killed more men\n than,...well he's-killed a lot of\n men. Deals","'s\n got a sharp side and a blunt side.\n You want a lesson?\n There is a sudden bang on the windshield and BTT turns back\n to the front only to see the windshield covered in milk.\n Tony can't see where he is going and searches for the\n windshield wipers. While this is happening the car swerves\n to the side and hits a lamp post. They crash and the boot\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\n himself out","this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n If you need a man in London then\n call this number.\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n","of the Russian\n dissidents, killed more men\n than,...well he's-killed a lot of\n men. Deals in arms, that he gets\n off some of the old school.\n We cut to the security monitor that observes the shop, it\n sits on Doug's desk. The door opens and in walks Boris. As\n bold as brass he walks up to the counter.\n\n DOUG\n\n Hold on. What's going on here?\n Doug picks up the phone to the downstairs shop. Sus","s car pulls up outside Boris1 house. BTT and Rosebud\n pull Boris up in the boot. Tyrone who is hanging about nearb\n keeping watch, witnesses this. Rosebud places a blade at\n the Russian's neck.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n 77.\n\n\n\n\n\n84 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n\n ROSE BUD\n\n I think you have got something to\n tell us","\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body,\n but if I see you again...well look\n at him.\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\n you like.\n\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\n\n","a lamp post. They crash and the boot\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\n himself out. Rose Bud looks down at the sword he has been\n extracting he can see he very nearly cut himself in two.\n Tony pulls himself up from the steering wheel he has a trickle\n of blood running down his face. There's a crash and a car\n hits em from behind.\n\n96 INT. TYRONE'S CAR --NIGHT\n\n\n\n\n They too are recovering from","name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Boris, Boris can get you anything\n you need.\n\n CUT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\n\n\n :\n\n\n3 INT. LONDON - AMUSEMENT ARCADE -- DAY\n\n\n C UT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\n\n\n\n\n We are in the back room","in your\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\n your trousers?\n\n TOMMY\n\n It's for protection.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Protection from what, the Germans?\n The war ended fifty years ago. Err\n what's to stop it blowing your balls\n off every time you sit down? Where\n did you get it?\nLooking down onto his gun.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Boris the Blade.\n\n TURKISH\n\n ","it Boris?\n\n BORIS\n\n Heavy is good. Heavy is reliable.\n If it doesn't work you can hit him\n with it.\n Tommy practices a couple of gun slinging maneuvers. He's\n impressed. At that moment the door opens and in walks a MAN\n carrying two heavy sacks of coins. He's a rough looking\n bastard, he's massive, and extremely ugly. Meet GORGEOUS\n\n GEORGE.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n "," combination you just shot.\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\n foot machete that he was concealing about his person. He\n pulls the case towards him and brings the machete down with\n full force. We can tell by the expression on Tyrone's face\n that it must have been some part of Franky's anatomy.\n Pointing to the ground:\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body","black guys are stunned into silence.\n\n BORIS\n\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\n who I am. Now open the case and\n give me.the stone.\n The black guys are left with their mouths open, everything\n just changed gear and they weren't expecting that.\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n Who's next? You have the ten grand\n now give me the stone.\n The pause continues. Boris lets a shot off that tears\n worryingly close to","\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\n\n BORIS\n\n I want you to do something for me .\n Franky nods for him to go on .\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky:","without being heard.\n\n BORIS\n\n What are you doing with him?\n\n SOL\n\n The case was attached to his body.\n\n BORIS\n\n So why didn't you chop it off?\n Sol looks horrified by the thought.\n\n VINNY\n\n Err, because we didn't. Now Boris\n we have or rather you have a problem.\n\n BORIS\n\n What?\n\n\n\n\n ","(CONT'D)\n\n Jesus, where did you come from?\n\n BORIS\n\n Uzbekistan.\n\n VINNY\n\n Oi Sol, Boris is here.\n\n SOL\n\n Boris, what's up?\n\n BORIS\n\n I have a job for you.\n\n SOL\n\n Go on.\n\n BORIS\n\n I want you to hold up a bookies.\n\n S","down onto his gun.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Boris the Blade.\n\n TURKISH\n\n You mean Boris the sneaky fucking\n Russian.\nTurkish pulls the gun out of Tommy's front.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n8 CONTINUED: (3)\n\n\n\n\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n I t ' s a bit heavy isn't it?\n\n\n","Tyrone spins in his seat and answers a little too loudly.\n\n TYRONE\n\n I am fuckin deaf! What have you\n done to my car?\n They crash into the car in front. Boris the Blade comes\n flying through the windshield.\n\n95 INT. BTT CAR -- NIGHT\n\n (This scene runs concurrently with scene 91)\n\n HNS\n\n\n AD- .......\n\n How we going to get rid of"," What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\n been exposed.\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a bookies I know that will\n take bets. If you place one down\n for me we will call it quits.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ","IS1 HOUSE\n\n On the phone subtitled\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Yes he's got it. He might call, he\n might not, but if he does be ready.\n\n BORIS\n\n I' l l see what I can do.\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n He can't know that it's you Boris.\n We do too much business together.\n You're gonna have to get someone\n else to hit him and there is no way\n it can","me? You've done a good job\n Franky, don't go and fuck it up.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n I hear ya Hands. I see ya Hands.\n The phone goes down and Hands looks up at a COLLEAGUE.\n\n HANDS\n\n He's got it.\n\n\n\n\n6 INT. BORIS1 HOUSE\n\n On the phone subtitled\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Yes he's got it."],["walks to the center\n of the ring. \"Good night\" is already there, they pace one\n another for a second or two, Micky avoids a punch or two and\n then he takes a hard one and he knows it, we flash to white,\n Micky's in trouble: he lets one of his missiles go and BANG\n it shakes \"good night\" to his core, all goes quiet. We go\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \"good night\" is\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches"," concerned for his mum. Pause as Micky waits for her to be\n well gone.\n\n MICKY (CONT'D)\n\n I ' l l fight you for it.\n\n\n\n Tommy looks at Gorgeous George. Gorgeous George raises his\n eyebrows.\n\n20 INT. HORSE BOX, PIKEY CAMP -- DAY\n\n The two fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\n swipe","goes on for two rounds (which is montage down to a few\n seconds). We go in the mind of poor Micky. We break the\n music just as it's starting to look dangerous... The bell\n goes and Micky walks to the wrong corner. Turkish pulls him\n back to his corner.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n They are on ya. You got to hurt him\n Micky. Otherwise we are\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged."," MICKY -\n\n You're not going anywhere my friend.\n You stay until the job is done.\n Micky starts pacing, and throwing out a couple of shadow\n punches with his back to Gorgeous George, he still hasn't\n really acknowledged his opponent. Gorgeous George moves in\n for the coup de grace, Micky spins on his feet and catches\n the big man under the jaw.\n\n CUT TO BLACK\n\n FADE IN: We see Gorgeous George lying on the floor with a"," THE REFF\n\n Alright lads no eye gouging no biting.\n Do your worst. Back to your corners.\n\n\n\n We drift again into Micky's pov, his world is becoming more\n and more surreal. He can faintly hear Turkish whispering\n words to him, but he's not really listening. A bell comes\n from somewhere, and Micky instinctively walks to the center\n of the ring. \"Good night\" is already there, they pace one\n another for a second or two, Micky","fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\n swipe: it was an .impressive punch, but Micky is a quick littl\n bastard and sidesteps. Micky does nothing to retaliate; his\n hands are still by his,side.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n20 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n Gorgeous George lunges out and grabs","Micky. Otherwise we are\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\n Micky goes out again his hands are low, BANG there is a flash\n of white as Micky goes down in the dirt. Dust rises from\n where he fell. He gets up quickly, his hands are still low,\n BANG he goes down again, in no time he's up.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n120 CONT","sudden he starts jumping up and down like he's warming up,\n throwing a few shadow punches, taking off his shirt. This\n reveals a heavily tattooed and scarred torso, and underneath\n these embellishments is a physique that warrants some respect.\n\n GORGEOUS GEORGE (CONT'D)\n\n This is sick. I am outta here.\n\n MICKY -\n\n You're not going anywhere my friend.\n You stay until the job is done.\n Micky","then look at the size\n of his fists. Hey Mum, come and\n look at the size of this fella.\n The kids start to feel his arms. Gorgeous George plays the\n game and raises the kids on his biceps. Micky's MUM comes\n out to see.\n\n MICKY (CONT'D)\n\n Would you look at the strength of\n the man? I bet you can box a little\n can't you sir? You look like a boxer.\n\n MUM\n\n ","\n Let's. . . . Get ready to\n rrrrrrummmmmble.\n The two come out to fight. Bomber Harris lifts his monster\n hands to do damage. They pace each other for a second.\n Then Micky lets one go. <\n\n\n\n\n ( CONTIN UED)\n\n\n\n\n\n37 CONTINUED:\n\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is posit"," What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\n been exposed.\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a bookies I know that will\n take bets. If you place one down\n for me we will call it quits.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n "," We are nearly there. They are a\n horrible bunch this lot Micky so pay\n attention to what you are doing.\n Micky just yawns.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Put up some kind of a show, he's a\n hard bastard this \"good night\"\n Anderson so don't get too clever, he\n used to be a pro. Just keep moving\n round the ring, and let the odd one\n go when push has come to shove.\n\n MICK","? I bet you can box a little\n can't you sir? You look like a boxer.\n\n MUM\n\n Get out of the way Micky and see if\n the fellas would like a drink.\n\n TOMMY\n\n I could murder one.\n\n MUM\n\n There won't be any murdering done\n around here, I don't mind telling\n ya.\n\n MICKY\n\n Would the big fella like a cup of\n tea?\n\n M","are open and he can't breathe, he continues\n to fall, but he's unpanicked (he is now Micky 1). When Micky\n 1 looks up he can see himself in the corner of the ring takin\n kidney punches from Good Night, he's winded and only semi-\n conscious (this is Micky 2). Micky 1 makes the effort to\n swim up and tries to penetrate the floor but he's stuck he\n can't get through. Micky 2 takes more punishment in the\n ring","\n\n\n Again we cut to the reactions of the relevant parties.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Tommy get the van.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I have it, it's waiting.\n Turkish jumps into the ring and grabs Micky.\n\n TURKISH\n\n We are off Micky, hold tight, and\n move quickly. ,\n Turkish pulls Micky away. It's not as hard as it might be\n trying to get out,","We do too much business together.\n You're gonna have to get someone\n else to hit him and there is no way\n it can relate to us. You understand?\n\n BORIS\n\n Yes I understand.\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n One more thing, he loves to gamble.\n\n7 EX.T. BACK ALLEY MAKESHIFT BOXING RING -- DAY\n\n BRICK TOP (aka MR MCLEAN) is a heavy looking fella. He is\n observing a"," MUM\n\n You'll do no such thing Michael.\n You'll...\n\n MICKY\n\n Alright Mum, we shan't, we'll settle\n it some other way, now don't get\n upset.\n\n MUM\n\n I won't have you fighting, Micky.\n Micky's Mum is getting upset and it's consequently upsetting\n Micky.\n\n MICKY\n\n Okay mum okay. You need to","\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \"good night\" is\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches his\n opponent's knees threaten to betray him. The crowd tries to\n digest what is happening. After a period of silence reality\n dawns. Brick Top mouths the words in silence.\"Don1t go down\n you fucker\". The crowd wants Micky to finish the job. But\n common sense reins back the coup de grace. \"Good night\"\n eventually regains control of his legs and stumbles","wanted me to\n fuck you two off, that's why I wanted\n you back. I' l l do the fight before\n he causes any more carnage, but I ' l l\n only do it if you're there.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Why?\n\n MICKY\n\n Because I know he fuckin hates ya. . ·\n\n91 INT. TURKISH'S CAR -- CONTINUOUS\n\n\n\n\n Turkish and Tommy are","to penetrate the floor but he's stuck he\n can't get through. Micky 2 takes more punishment in the\n ring, as Micky 1 ' s hand continues to try to break the\n underside of the floor but it stretches like rubber and forces\n Micky 1 down again. Micky 1 looks up again and sees how\n much trouble Micky 2 ' s in the ring. Micky 1 is panicking\n now, he's running out of oxygen and Micky 2's being beaten,\n Micky "],["walks to the center\n of the ring. \"Good night\" is already there, they pace one\n another for a second or two, Micky avoids a punch or two and\n then he takes a hard one and he knows it, we flash to white,\n Micky's in trouble: he lets one of his missiles go and BANG\n it shakes \"good night\" to his core, all goes quiet. We go\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \"good night\" is\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches","goes on for two rounds (which is montage down to a few\n seconds). We go in the mind of poor Micky. We break the\n music just as it's starting to look dangerous... The bell\n goes and Micky walks to the wrong corner. Turkish pulls him\n back to his corner.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n They are on ya. You got to hurt him\n Micky. Otherwise we are\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged."," THE REFF\n\n Alright lads no eye gouging no biting.\n Do your worst. Back to your corners.\n\n\n\n We drift again into Micky's pov, his world is becoming more\n and more surreal. He can faintly hear Turkish whispering\n words to him, but he's not really listening. A bell comes\n from somewhere, and Micky instinctively walks to the center\n of the ring. \"Good night\" is already there, they pace one\n another for a second or two, Micky","\n\n So Michael, you got it clear? It's\n the fourth round. I'll tap you anyway\n to let you know when to go down.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n36 CONTINUED: ( 2 )\n\n\n\n\n\n MICKY\n\n Just make sure the man doesn't kill\n me before the fuckin fourth.\n\n CUT TO:BRICK TOP"," MICKY -\n\n You're not going anywhere my friend.\n You stay until the job is done.\n Micky starts pacing, and throwing out a couple of shadow\n punches with his back to Gorgeous George, he still hasn't\n really acknowledged his opponent. Gorgeous George moves in\n for the coup de grace, Micky spins on his feet and catches\n the big man under the jaw.\n\n CUT TO BLACK\n\n FADE IN: We see Gorgeous George lying on the floor with a","\n Let's. . . . Get ready to\n rrrrrrummmmmble.\n The two come out to fight. Bomber Harris lifts his monster\n hands to do damage. They pace each other for a second.\n Then Micky lets one go. <\n\n\n\n\n ( CONTIN UED)\n\n\n\n\n\n37 CONTINUED:\n\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is posit","are open and he can't breathe, he continues\n to fall, but he's unpanicked (he is now Micky 1). When Micky\n 1 looks up he can see himself in the corner of the ring takin\n kidney punches from Good Night, he's winded and only semi-\n conscious (this is Micky 2). Micky 1 makes the effort to\n swim up and tries to penetrate the floor but he's stuck he\n can't get through. Micky 2 takes more punishment in the\n ring","fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\n swipe: it was an .impressive punch, but Micky is a quick littl\n bastard and sidesteps. Micky does nothing to retaliate; his\n hands are still by his,side.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n20 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n Gorgeous George lunges out and grabs"," We are nearly there. They are a\n horrible bunch this lot Micky so pay\n attention to what you are doing.\n Micky just yawns.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Put up some kind of a show, he's a\n hard bastard this \"good night\"\n Anderson so don't get too clever, he\n used to be a pro. Just keep moving\n round the ring, and let the odd one\n go when push has come to shove.\n\n MICK","\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \"good night\" is\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches his\n opponent's knees threaten to betray him. The crowd tries to\n digest what is happening. After a period of silence reality\n dawns. Brick Top mouths the words in silence.\"Don1t go down\n you fucker\". The crowd wants Micky to finish the job. But\n common sense reins back the coup de grace. \"Good night\"\n eventually regains control of his legs and stumbles","Micky. Otherwise we are\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\n Micky goes out again his hands are low, BANG there is a flash\n of white as Micky goes down in the dirt. Dust rises from\n where he fell. He gets up quickly, his hands are still low,\n BANG he goes down again, in no time he's up.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n120 CONT",". Just keep moving\n round the ring, and let the odd one\n go when push has come to shove.\n\n MICKY\n\n Let's get on with it, shall we?\n\n118 INT. WAREHOUSE - '\n\n A temporary ring has been erected, four scaffolding posts\n with welded on hoops make the arena, the ropes that are\n threaded through the hoops are industrial nylon and free of\n padding. Around the ropes it'"," concerned for his mum. Pause as Micky waits for her to be\n well gone.\n\n MICKY (CONT'D)\n\n I ' l l fight you for it.\n\n\n\n Tommy looks at Gorgeous George. Gorgeous George raises his\n eyebrows.\n\n20 INT. HORSE BOX, PIKEY CAMP -- DAY\n\n The two fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\n swipe","ED:\n\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is positively out\n cold. We crashtrack into various characters' reactions:\n Brick Top, Turkish and Tommy etc. All are in shock. The\n ref (who is obviously paid off as well) tries to resuscitate\n Harris/ but it's not happening, he catches a look of\n desperation from one of the villains and is eventually left\n with little choice but to hold Micky's hand","to penetrate the floor but he's stuck he\n can't get through. Micky 2 takes more punishment in the\n ring, as Micky 1 ' s hand continues to try to break the\n underside of the floor but it stretches like rubber and forces\n Micky 1 down again. Micky 1 looks up again and sees how\n much trouble Micky 2 ' s in the ring. Micky 1 is panicking\n now, he's running out of oxygen and Micky 2's being beaten,\n Micky ","\n\n\n Again we cut to the reactions of the relevant parties.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Tommy get the van.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I have it, it's waiting.\n Turkish jumps into the ring and grabs Micky.\n\n TURKISH\n\n We are off Micky, hold tight, and\n move quickly. ,\n Turkish pulls Micky away. It's not as hard as it might be\n trying to get out,","icky 1 is panicking\n now, he's running out of oxygen and Micky 2's being beaten,\n Micky 1 starts -to sink again but now flames tickle the bottom\n of his feet he looks up. and sees Micky 2 being smashed to\n hell, his body eventually collapses and Micky 2 falls through\n the floor. And as the latter falls through, Micky 1 manages\n to rise from the depths and his punch manages to perforate\n the surface. The punch continues its trajectory and","time he's up.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n120 CONTINUED: -\n\n BANG: he hits the ground again and this time when he hits\n the deck, he penetrates the dust covered floor, like i t ' s\n made out of water. He falls through the water like he's\n sinking; his eyes are open and he can't breathe, he continues\n to fall, but he's unpanicked (he is now Micky 1).","? I bet you can box a little\n can't you sir? You look like a boxer.\n\n MUM\n\n Get out of the way Micky and see if\n the fellas would like a drink.\n\n TOMMY\n\n I could murder one.\n\n MUM\n\n There won't be any murdering done\n around here, I don't mind telling\n ya.\n\n MICKY\n\n Would the big fella like a cup of\n tea?\n\n M","job. But\n common sense reins back the coup de grace. \"Good night\"\n eventually regains control of his legs and stumbles forward,\n after a few sleepy punches he starts to provide a serious\n onslaught.\n\n\n\n\n TURKISH\n\n I don't like the look of this Tommy,\n bring the van up to the back door.\n This goes on for two rounds (which is montage down to a few\n seconds). We go in the mind of poor Micky. We break the\n"],[" (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\n to his wrist.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\n\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\n\n\n\n\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree","have we got here?\n\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop. He walks in.\n\n42 INT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Franky is tied up on a stool, in front of him is the case\n and it's open. Boris waves the black guys to come into the\n corridor so they can talk without being heard.\n\n BORIS\n\n What are you doing with him?\n\n SOL\n\n ","of times - nothing happens, but on\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\n\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\n\n\n\n\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\n to take the case off him but i t ' s","DOUG\n\n No it's true. I can't find'him, but\n I know a man that can.\n Cut to a shot of Hands encouraging him to continue.\n\n DOUG (CONT'D)\n\n Tony. Bullet Tooth Tony. He'll\n find Franky for you.\n\n HANDS\n\n Who's he?\n Susi interrupts.\n\n SUSI\n\n ·What is he?' Would be a more\n appropriate","looking for Franky Four Fingers.\n\n DOUG\n\n Well he said he was going to be here.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n36 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n HANDS\n\n If there's gambling involved, he'll\n be here.\n They get nudged aside by an entourage of men coming through.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)","this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n If you need a man in London then\n call this number.\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n","ANDS\n\n Yeah, Doug the Head. But get some\n security. I mean it, get it today,\n speak to those Russians, they can\n get you anything. And. . .\n\n\n\n Dramatic pause\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n And what?\n\n HANDS\n\n No fuckin around in any casinos, you\n hear me? You've done a good job\n Franky, don't go and fuck it up.\n\n FRANKY FO","\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\n\n BORIS\n\n I want you to do something for me .\n Franky nods for him to go on .\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky:","The\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\n\n ,, · '\n\n wrong way.\n\n TYRONE\n\n What the fuck are you two doing?\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four F","then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN DRIVER\n looks dramatically calm.\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Pass him the money.\n Franky hesitates for a second.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n Franky you know you have no choice.\n So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent","?\n Susi interrupts.\n\n SUSI\n\n ·What is he?' Would be a more\n appropriate question.\n Doug frowns at Susi, but continues.\n\n DOUG\n\n He's the best chance you have of\n finding Franky.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n ' ' '\n\n\n .\n\n\n48 CON","MY\n\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\n Russian.\n\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BROKERS\n\n\n\n\n Vin and Sol are trying to wrap Franky's body up. Bad Boy\n Lincoln has been called in to help.\n\n BAD BOY LINCOLN\n\n What happened to him?\n\n SOL\n\n He got shot in the face Lincoln, I\n would have thought that was obvious.\n\n BA D BOY LINCOLN\n","metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\n van was blocking his exit.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone"," What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\n been exposed.\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a bookies I know that will\n take bets. If you place one down\n for me we will call it quits.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ","backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\n\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\n\n\n WE FADE UP\n\n (Time-wise, we're now at the end of scene 34)\n Frankie wakes up. He has a trickle of blood dripping down\n the back of his neck, he looks at his watch and panics. He\n kicks the doors a couple of times - nothing happens, but on\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\n off and makes his way to the","- as Tyrone parks the van )\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\n\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\n\n\n WE FADE UP\n","is FRANKY FOUR -FINGERS, (New York street\n wise Jew) who is clutching a fancy looking briefcase which\n is handcuffed to his wrist. He is flanked by TWO RUSSIAN\n HOODS. This next section will be subtitled.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n How much further do we have to go?\n Just then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN D","So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n","\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body,\n but if I see you again...well look\n at him.\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\n you like.\n\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\n\n","DOUG\n\n Yes.\n\n HANDS\n\n And he's gone gambling? That's Franky\n \"I have a problem with gambling\"\n fuckin Four Fingers, you are talking\n about Doug.\n\n DOUG\n\n What am I, telepathic?\n\n HANDS\n\n Franky is good at buying stones Doug\n but he's a fuckin liability when it\n comes to gambling. That has cost\n me. So in turn rit' s cost him. He\n "],[" THE REFF\n\n Alright lads no eye gouging no biting.\n Do your worst. Back to your corners.\n\n\n\n We drift again into Micky's pov, his world is becoming more\n and more surreal. He can faintly hear Turkish whispering\n words to him, but he's not really listening. A bell comes\n from somewhere, and Micky instinctively walks to the center\n of the ring. \"Good night\" is already there, they pace one\n another for a second or two, Micky","walks to the center\n of the ring. \"Good night\" is already there, they pace one\n another for a second or two, Micky avoids a punch or two and\n then he takes a hard one and he knows it, we flash to white,\n Micky's in trouble: he lets one of his missiles go and BANG\n it shakes \"good night\" to his core, all goes quiet. We go\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \"good night\" is\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches","fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\n swipe: it was an .impressive punch, but Micky is a quick littl\n bastard and sidesteps. Micky does nothing to retaliate; his\n hands are still by his,side.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n20 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n Gorgeous George lunges out and grabs"," MICKY -\n\n You're not going anywhere my friend.\n You stay until the job is done.\n Micky starts pacing, and throwing out a couple of shadow\n punches with his back to Gorgeous George, he still hasn't\n really acknowledged his opponent. Gorgeous George moves in\n for the coup de grace, Micky spins on his feet and catches\n the big man under the jaw.\n\n CUT TO BLACK\n\n FADE IN: We see Gorgeous George lying on the floor with a","goes on for two rounds (which is montage down to a few\n seconds). We go in the mind of poor Micky. We break the\n music just as it's starting to look dangerous... The bell\n goes and Micky walks to the wrong corner. Turkish pulls him\n back to his corner.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n They are on ya. You got to hurt him\n Micky. Otherwise we are\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged."," concerned for his mum. Pause as Micky waits for her to be\n well gone.\n\n MICKY (CONT'D)\n\n I ' l l fight you for it.\n\n\n\n Tommy looks at Gorgeous George. Gorgeous George raises his\n eyebrows.\n\n20 INT. HORSE BOX, PIKEY CAMP -- DAY\n\n The two fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\n swipe","wanted me to\n fuck you two off, that's why I wanted\n you back. I' l l do the fight before\n he causes any more carnage, but I ' l l\n only do it if you're there.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Why?\n\n MICKY\n\n Because I know he fuckin hates ya. . ·\n\n91 INT. TURKISH'S CAR -- CONTINUOUS\n\n\n\n\n Turkish and Tommy are","sudden he starts jumping up and down like he's warming up,\n throwing a few shadow punches, taking off his shirt. This\n reveals a heavily tattooed and scarred torso, and underneath\n these embellishments is a physique that warrants some respect.\n\n GORGEOUS GEORGE (CONT'D)\n\n This is sick. I am outta here.\n\n MICKY -\n\n You're not going anywhere my friend.\n You stay until the job is done.\n Micky","\n Let's. . . . Get ready to\n rrrrrrummmmmble.\n The two come out to fight. Bomber Harris lifts his monster\n hands to do damage. They pace each other for a second.\n Then Micky lets one go. <\n\n\n\n\n ( CONTIN UED)\n\n\n\n\n\n37 CONTINUED:\n\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is posit","\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \"good night\" is\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches his\n opponent's knees threaten to betray him. The crowd tries to\n digest what is happening. After a period of silence reality\n dawns. Brick Top mouths the words in silence.\"Don1t go down\n you fucker\". The crowd wants Micky to finish the job. But\n common sense reins back the coup de grace. \"Good night\"\n eventually regains control of his legs and stumbles","\n\n\n Again we cut to the reactions of the relevant parties.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Tommy get the van.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I have it, it's waiting.\n Turkish jumps into the ring and grabs Micky.\n\n TURKISH\n\n We are off Micky, hold tight, and\n move quickly. ,\n Turkish pulls Micky away. It's not as hard as it might be\n trying to get out,"," We are nearly there. They are a\n horrible bunch this lot Micky so pay\n attention to what you are doing.\n Micky just yawns.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Put up some kind of a show, he's a\n hard bastard this \"good night\"\n Anderson so don't get too clever, he\n used to be a pro. Just keep moving\n round the ring, and let the odd one\n go when push has come to shove.\n\n MICK","Micky. Otherwise we are\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\n Micky goes out again his hands are low, BANG there is a flash\n of white as Micky goes down in the dirt. Dust rises from\n where he fell. He gets up quickly, his hands are still low,\n BANG he goes down again, in no time he's up.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n120 CONT","are open and he can't breathe, he continues\n to fall, but he's unpanicked (he is now Micky 1). When Micky\n 1 looks up he can see himself in the corner of the ring takin\n kidney punches from Good Night, he's winded and only semi-\n conscious (this is Micky 2). Micky 1 makes the effort to\n swim up and tries to penetrate the floor but he's stuck he\n can't get through. Micky 2 takes more punishment in the\n ring"," MUM\n\n You'll do no such thing Michael.\n You'll...\n\n MICKY\n\n Alright Mum, we shan't, we'll settle\n it some other way, now don't get\n upset.\n\n MUM\n\n I won't have you fighting, Micky.\n Micky's Mum is getting upset and it's consequently upsetting\n Micky.\n\n MICKY\n\n Okay mum okay. You need to"," What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\n been exposed.\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a bookies I know that will\n take bets. If you place one down\n for me we will call it quits.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ",".\n\n\n\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Are you taking the piss?\n\n TURKISH\n\n No, there was an accident.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n I'll show you a fuckin accident.\n\n TURKISH\n\n You've still got your fight.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n No, I lose all bets at the bookies.\n You can't change fighters at the\n last minute, so no, I","then look at the size\n of his fists. Hey Mum, come and\n look at the size of this fella.\n The kids start to feel his arms. Gorgeous George plays the\n game and raises the kids on his biceps. Micky's MUM comes\n out to see.\n\n MICKY (CONT'D)\n\n Would you look at the strength of\n the man? I bet you can box a little\n can't you sir? You look like a boxer.\n\n MUM\n\n ","to penetrate the floor but he's stuck he\n can't get through. Micky 2 takes more punishment in the\n ring, as Micky 1 ' s hand continues to try to break the\n underside of the floor but it stretches like rubber and forces\n Micky 1 down again. Micky 1 looks up again and sees how\n much trouble Micky 2 ' s in the ring. Micky 1 is panicking\n now, he's running out of oxygen and Micky 2's being beaten,\n Micky ","\n\n So Michael, you got it clear? It's\n the fourth round. I'll tap you anyway\n to let you know when to go down.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n36 CONTINUED: ( 2 )\n\n\n\n\n\n MICKY\n\n Just make sure the man doesn't kill\n me before the fuckin fourth.\n\n CUT TO:BRICK TOP"],["\n\n\n Again we cut to the reactions of the relevant parties.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Tommy get the van.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I have it, it's waiting.\n Turkish jumps into the ring and grabs Micky.\n\n TURKISH\n\n We are off Micky, hold tight, and\n move quickly. ,\n Turkish pulls Micky away. It's not as hard as it might be\n trying to get out,"," We are nearly there. They are a\n horrible bunch this lot Micky so pay\n attention to what you are doing.\n Micky just yawns.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Put up some kind of a show, he's a\n hard bastard this \"good night\"\n Anderson so don't get too clever, he\n used to be a pro. Just keep moving\n round the ring, and let the odd one\n go when push has come to shove.\n\n MICK","goes on for two rounds (which is montage down to a few\n seconds). We go in the mind of poor Micky. We break the\n music just as it's starting to look dangerous... The bell\n goes and Micky walks to the wrong corner. Turkish pulls him\n back to his corner.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n They are on ya. You got to hurt him\n Micky. Otherwise we are\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.","top look like\n a skirt clinging thumb sucker. And\n i f y o u p l a y wi t h f i r e . . . ·\n Cut to a few still shots of atrocities committed by the men\n in question. ,\n\n\n\n\n .: CUT TO: TURKISH & MICKY\n\n\n TURKISH\n\n So Michael, you got it clear? It's\n the fourth round. I'll tap you anyway\n to","wanted me to\n fuck you two off, that's why I wanted\n you back. I' l l do the fight before\n he causes any more carnage, but I ' l l\n only do it if you're there.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Why?\n\n MICKY\n\n Because I know he fuckin hates ya. . ·\n\n91 INT. TURKISH'S CAR -- CONTINUOUS\n\n\n\n\n Turkish and Tommy are","\n\n So Michael, you got it clear? It's\n the fourth round. I'll tap you anyway\n to let you know when to go down.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n36 CONTINUED: ( 2 )\n\n\n\n\n\n MICKY\n\n Just make sure the man doesn't kill\n me before the fuckin fourth.\n\n CUT TO:BRICK TOP"," THE REFF\n\n Alright lads no eye gouging no biting.\n Do your worst. Back to your corners.\n\n\n\n We drift again into Micky's pov, his world is becoming more\n and more surreal. He can faintly hear Turkish whispering\n words to him, but he's not really listening. A bell comes\n from somewhere, and Micky instinctively walks to the center\n of the ring. \"Good night\" is already there, they pace one\n another for a second or two, Micky","\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Well I can't see anyone. After I\n have got in go round the front and\n call me if you see anything.\n\n44 INT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE\n\n Turkish lets himself in and walks through. Everything seems\n to be fine. ·\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n44 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n He walks into his office, has a quick","icky's pov. Thisis shot in slow\n motion. Micky opens his eyes, in the backof.a large van,\n there is only one faint light that moodilyilluminates his\n tired eyes.\n\n TURKISH\n\n You feeling alright Micky?\n\n MICKY\n\n I've felt better.\n\n TURKISH\n\n We are nearly there. They are a\n horrible bunch this lot Micky so pay\n attention to what you are doing.\n ",".\n\n MUM\n\n You looking for Micky?\n\n TURKISH\n\n 'Do you know where I can find him?\n\n MUM\n\n Yes.\n Pause ·\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n49 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n\n TURKISH\n\n Well would you like to share that\n information with me Ms O'","outside the pikey camp. Micky's\n Mum is sitting in her chair surrounded by kids.\n\n MUM\n\n They're very nice Tommy. Thank you.\n Tommy has produced a bunch of flowers from somewhere. Turkish\n finds this a great surprise.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Where did they come from? You're a\n snake in the grass Tommy.\n\n MUM\n\n You looking for Micky?\n\n TURKISH\n\n 'Do you","\n\n Save your breath for cooling your\n porridge. I'll bet you for it.\n\n TURKISH\n\n What like Tommy did last time? Do\n me a favour?\n\n MICKY\n\n I ' l l do you a favour, you have first ,\n bet. If I win I get the caravan, if\n I lose I'l l do the fight for free.\n Turkish considers this, uneasily. He looks at the dogs they\n look keen and fit.\n\n T","Micky. Otherwise we are\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\n Micky goes out again his hands are low, BANG there is a flash\n of white as Micky goes down in the dirt. Dust rises from\n where he fell. He gets up quickly, his hands are still low,\n BANG he goes down again, in no time he's up.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n120 CONT","CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n26 CONTINUED:\n\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n You know what he's done to people on\n that pool table?\n They both give the table an eyeball.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n What, potted more balls than any\n other player? What else can you do\n to people on a pool table?\n\n TURKISH\n\n Quite a fuckin lot if","Of course.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Of course fuckin of course, I wasn't\n asking I was telling. But this time\n I do want him to go down in the\n fourth. And I do mean it this time.\n Pause\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n Now I know you,came back. to. open\n your safe, so now you can open it. .\n There is nothing Turkish can do.\n\n46 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE","\n\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\n fuckin sausages.\n\n TURKISH\n\n What were you thinking of? Why the\n fuck did you put Gorgeous George\n into a bare knuckle boxing match two\n days before he had to fight the\n Bomber?\n\n TOMMY\n\n He was half his size.\n He pantomimes a man that would reach his navel\n\n T","\n\n We see Turkish with a somewhat serious expression on his\n face he has his customary pint of milk on one side, he takes\n a sip and \"ohhhs\" and \"arrrs\" for a while.\n\n .TURKISH\n\n So you're telling me he would have\n run you through if Gorgeous hadn't\n woken up?\n\n TOMMY\n\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\n fuck","Well aren't you going to answer it?\n Turkish does.\n\n45 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\n\n Tommy on the phone.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n45 CONTINUED:\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n Brick Top's just landed, he's walking\n in the front, I would move it if I\n were you Turkish...\n Turkish puts down the phone","\n119 INT. BACK OF WAREHOUSE\n\n\n\n\n Brick Top is standing in front of Micky whose eyes are still\n semi open.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n What's wrong with you? You stoned?\n Is he fuckin stoned?\n\n TURKISH . -\n\n He's like that before a fight.\n He turns his attention to Micky.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Now you know when you're going down?","\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n21 CONTINUED:\n\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n What the fuck did you expect? A\n grease down and a shiatsu?\n\n TOMMY\n\n Who took the jam out of your donut?\n\n TURKISH\n\n You took the fuckin jam out of my\n donut Tommy, you did.\n\n TOMMY\n\n You said get a good"],["The\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\n\n ,, · '\n\n wrong way.\n\n TYRONE\n\n What the fuck are you two doing?\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four F","Sol and Vin.\n\n VINNY\n\n No wonder that sneaky fuckin Russian\n didn't want to do it.\n\n SOL\n\n First things first, one of us, Tyrone,\n you get round to-the Russian's. The\n second you see him call us.\n\n TYRONE\n\n You better be round with something\n substantial, don't turn up with a\n frown and a wagging finger.\n\n SOL","the counter.\n The security screen comes flying back up.\n\n VINNY .\n\n Get me out of here now Sol.\n Vinny does sound convincingly desperate.\n\n SOL\n\n We're going Vin.\n He grabs the bag of copper coins, grabs Vince and marches\n towards the double'doors. They open the first set and then\n they try to open the second. They push the door nothing\n happens. There is no going back. Sol starts to kick the\n glass door"," (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n94 CONTINUED: -<2)\n\n\n\n\n\n VINNY\n\n Well just how fuckin loud did you\n think it was going to be? It's a-\n fucking gun Sol, guns are renowned\n for making a loud fucking noise\n whenever you pull the trigger.\n\n SOL\n\n You wanted to see if they worked.\n\n VINNY\n\n I didn't","\n counter and a security screen comes flying up at a very rapid\n rate of knots protecting all the counters. This has the\n unfortunate consequence of taking Vinny with it. Poor Vin\n is shot straight to the ceiling, all we can see is half a\n body and his desperately searching for ground legs. Needless\n to say this leaves Sol in a bit of a bewildered state. He's\n looking the wrong way at the critical moment and is left\n wondering what happened, not having seen Vince impaled on\n the ceiling. Sol extracts the enormous","\n SOL (CONT.'D)\n\n Copper coins? What do you mean copper\n fuckin coins?\n Pauline sees her opportunity and grabs the pistol. Sol .goes\n for it too, but he's beaten to it. Sol ducks, pulling Vince\n with him, Pauline lets out a series of shots in their\n direction, Sol counter blasts over the top of the counter.\n The security screen comes flying back up.\n\n VINNY .\n\n Get me out of here"," VINNY\n\n Yeah well I didn't expect them to\n lock us up in here did I?\n\n SOL\n\n Ohh your one clever bastard Vin, you\n really are. Where is it?\n\n VINNY\n\n It's at Lincoln's.\n\n BAD BOY LINCOLN\n\n What the fuck's it doing at my place?\n\n VINNY\n\n Waiting for us to pick it up.\n\n ","CONTINUED: -\n\n\n\n\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n Well come on.\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Not so fast Vin we can't get em now\n we gonna have to follow them.\n B TT's car moves off. The black guys follow.\n\n\n\n\n TYRONE\n\n I ' l l move in. It'll be ok.\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n OK is","sorry but I\n couldn't get the binoculars out in\n time.\n\n VINNY\n\n Well let's not stand on ceremony,\n let's start the show.\n They get out of the van and go up to the bookies, leaving\n Tyrone in the van. There's a double set of glass doors.\n Sol pushes them open, and Vinny walks in first, while Sol\n hangs back with the shotgun.\n\n32 INT. BOOKIES -- DAY\n\n Inside","see it clearly.\n I t ' s a pawnbrokers.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n12 CONTINUED:\n\n\n VINNY\n\n Move it, come on move\" i t .\n Vinny enters the pawn shop.\n\n\n\n\n13 INT. PAWN BROKERS -- DAY\n\n\n\n\n Meet SOL, who's behind the counter, Vinny's partner in the\n pawn shop."," shattering bullet-proof glass all around them. Vinny's panic\n filled eyes attempt to follow its trajectory. Sol is unaware\n of the ricochet and before Vin has time to warn him, Sol\n fires another bullet. Now he observes the problem and waits\n for the inevitable. The bullet tears through the bag of\n coins, which then empties its contents at Vin's and Sol's\n feet. Eventually the bullet hits poor Vince in the thigh.\n Sol sinks to the floor, he has given up. Amongst the yells","\n SOL\n\n You wanted to see if they worked.\n\n VINNY\n\n I didn't mean try it in the fuckin\n car Sol.\n\n SOL\n\n Well they work, I reckon they are\n really going to put the shits into\n em.\n\n VINNY\n\n Right now I am not concerned with\n putting the shits into em Sol, I am\n \" \" . concerned about taking the pain out\n of my ringing fucking ears","without being heard.\n\n BORIS\n\n What are you doing with him?\n\n SOL\n\n The case was attached to his body.\n\n BORIS\n\n So why didn't you chop it off?\n Sol looks horrified by the thought.\n\n VINNY\n\n Err, because we didn't. Now Boris\n we have or rather you have a problem.\n\n BORIS\n\n What?\n\n\n\n\n ","DAY\n\n\n\n\n Meet SOL, who's behind the counter, Vinny's partner in the\n pawn shop. He's concentrating on the deal at hand with BAD\n BOY LINCOLN and has a stone-inspecting monocle to his eye.\n\n VINNY\n\n Alright Sol, Lincoln.\n They are in deep discussion and only Lincoln responds.\n\n B AD BOY LINCOLN\n\n Vin.\n\n SOL\n\n It","Vin and Sol are going through a selection of keys they have,\n trying to open the front door.\n\n SOL\n\n Lincoln's got some tools here, when\n he has had a few drinks he gets em\n out and runs around the house holding\n a pistol in each hand, telling me\n about what a bad boy he is.\n\n VINNY\n\n Do you know where he keeps em?\n They find the right key.\n\n SOL\n\n Well they ain't gonna","MAN is stepping into the bookies: he\n is carrying a case.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n Shit, was that him?\n\n .' VINNY\n\n Don't ask me, you're the one supposed\n to keep an eye on it. How many\n fingers did he have?\n\n SOL\n\n Are you serious? I am sorry but I\n couldn't get the binoculars out in\n time.\n\n VINNY\n\n Well let","\n\n VINNY\n\n . They're replicas.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n89 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n\n TYRONE\n\n Hold tight rudy, are you fuckin mad?\n Do you know who these people are?\n\n SOL\n\n No I don't Tyrone, but I do know I\n don't want to be eaten by pulled\n"," SOL\n\n Can you get this fuckin dog to stop\n dribbling on me?\n Vin pulls the dog back.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n I worry about you Vin, Jesus, talk\n about overkill. One look at a crack\n desperate brother and you could wave\n a knife and fork around, and I am\n sure they would lick the salt of\n your scrotum.\n The car wash starts.\n\n VINNY\n\n What the fuck are you doing?\n\n"," SOL\n\n How you doing Vince?\n A weakened voice retorts.\n\n VINNY\n\n How do I look like I am doing you\n fucking idiot? I would be doing a\n lot better if you would stop using\n my name.\n Consoled that his colleague is not dead it's back to business\n for Sol. He raises the gun and pulls his fiercest face.\n\n SOL\n\n Now fill this bag. . . ' . - . -","\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n We want half and that's because we\n are being generous. We could by\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\n black guys are stunned into silence.\n\n BORIS\n\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\n who"],["but was a good dog.\n\n HANDS\n\n Are you sure he's not here?\n\n MICKY\n\n I think I would have noticed if a\n fuckin dog was sitting in my caravan\n don't you? Tommy, Turkish, have you\n seen a dog sitting in me caravan?\n\n TURKISH\n\n I can't say I have Micky.\n\n MICKY\n\n See there you have it.\n\n ","Turkish looks back at him blankly.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Here let me do you a favour.\n He reaches over and grabs the carton from Turkish, and throws\n it out the window. The milk obviously hits an on-coming car\n . in the other direction. There is a terrible crashing noise.\n Tommy and Turkish come to a standstill, and look back to see\n a small pile up on the other side of the road.\n\n TOMMY (CONT'D)\n\n What was in that milk?\n"," TOMMY\n\n What's wrong with this one?\n Turning back to Tommy and ascending the steps in to his \"I\n have seen better days\" caravan, TURKISH'S foot goes through\n one of the stairs and the.door comes off at the hinges as he\n tries to open it.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Oh nothing Tommy, it's tip top, it's\n just I am not sure about the colour.\n He passes him a piece of paper\n\n TUR","\n\n We see Turkish with a somewhat serious expression on his\n face he has his customary pint of milk on one side, he takes\n a sip and \"ohhhs\" and \"arrrs\" for a while.\n\n .TURKISH\n\n So you're telling me he would have\n run you through if Gorgeous hadn't\n woken up?\n\n TOMMY\n\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\n fuck","\n\n91 INT. TURKISH'S CAR -- CONTINUOUS\n\n\n\n\n Turkish and Tommy are driving. Turkish is drinking a pint\n of\"milk (as usual). There is silence for a while.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n91 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n It's not warm the blood in his veins\n is it?\n\n TURKISH","\n\n\n Again we cut to the reactions of the relevant parties.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Tommy get the van.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I have it, it's waiting.\n Turkish jumps into the ring and grabs Micky.\n\n TURKISH\n\n We are off Micky, hold tight, and\n move quickly. ,\n Turkish pulls Micky away. It's not as hard as it might be\n trying to get out,","MY\n\n So what's coursing?\n\n TURKISH\n\n They set two lurchers, they are dogs\n before you ask, on a hare, that's\n the big rabbit. And the hare has to\n outrun the dogs.\n\n TOMMY\n\n What happens if he doesn't?\n\n TURKISH\n\n Well the big rabbit gets fucked\n doesn't it?\n\n\n\n\n (CONT","KISH\n\n Well the big rabbit gets fucked\n doesn't it?\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n50 CONTINUED:\n\n Tommy looks a taken aback by this statement.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Come on, what, proper fucked?\n\n TURKISH\n\n Yeah before the Germans get there\n Tommy. How can a dog fuck a\n rabbit?...eh? If eats the bastard.","MY\n\n There is something very wrong with\n this, it was us that wanted to buy a\n caravan off him.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Why didn't you \"bus a cap in his\n ass\" then Tommy? Mind you, you would\n do more damage if you threw it at\n him.\n\n TOMMY\n\n You saying I can't shoot?\n\n TURKISH\n\n Oh no Tommy I wasn't saying you can't\n","fight. A load of\n HEAVY GEEZERS are commenting on the performance of the dogs,\n one dog is being carried out by a single leg, it's covered\n in blood. Another dog is left in the ring, it too is covered\n in blood but it's survived.\n\n TURKISH\n\n They can charm the paint off walls\n these fellas.\n\n27 INT. BACK OF PUB - DOG FIGHT -- NIGHT\n\n A circle of blunt faces are exchanging money with","saying I can't shoot?\n\n TURKISH\n\n Oh no Tommy I wasn't saying you can't\n shoot, I know you can't shoot. What\n I was saying is that six pound piece\n of shit stuck in your trousers there\n would do more damage if you fed it\n to em.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Are you saying it doesn't work?\n\n TURKISH\n\n You tried it?\n Tommy frowns\n","\n\n Save your breath for cooling your\n porridge. I'll bet you for it.\n\n TURKISH\n\n What like Tommy did last time? Do\n me a favour?\n\n MICKY\n\n I ' l l do you a favour, you have first ,\n bet. If I win I get the caravan, if\n I lose I'l l do the fight for free.\n Turkish considers this, uneasily. He looks at the dogs they\n look keen and fit.\n\n T","\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n21 CONTINUED:\n\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n What the fuck did you expect? A\n grease down and a shiatsu?\n\n TOMMY\n\n Who took the jam out of your donut?\n\n TURKISH\n\n You took the fuckin jam out of my\n donut Tommy, you did.\n\n TOMMY\n\n You said get a good","face. Go on\n try it.\n Tommy sticks the gun out the window and pulls the trigger.\n Nothing happens.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINU ED)\n\n\n\n\n\n67 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n\n\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Whoops.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\n Russian.\n\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BRO","in your\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\n your trousers?\n\n TOMMY\n\n It's for protection.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Protection from what, the Germans?\n The war ended fifty years ago. Err\n what's to stop it blowing your balls\n off every time you sit down? Where\n did you get it?\nLooking down onto his gun.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Boris the Blade.\n\n TURKISH\n\n ","\n Gorgeous George fastens the caravan to the back of their\n Land Rover and pulls away. They wave at Micky and he\n reciprocates.\n\n MICKY\n\n He's a good dog. He'll get a little\n homesick for a while but he'11 get\n over it.\n Tommy has a dog that looks distressed about leaving Micky\n sitting next to him.\n\n\n\n\n17 INT. CAR -- DAY\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I don"," He's coursing, he's a couple of fields\n that way.\n Pause\n\n TOMMY\n\n What's coursing?\n\n50 INT. CAR ·\n\n\n\n\n\n TURKISH\n\n Hare coursing. The gypsies can't\n get enough of it.\n\n TOMMY\n\n What the fuck's a hare?\n\n TURKISH\n\n I t ' s a","and is off.\n\n67 INT. CAR\n\n Turkish is getting into his car. . ..\n\n TOMMY\n\n You're are as mad as mars you are,\n why did you take that bet? What\n happens now?\n\n TURKISH\n\n We buy him a caravan Tommy.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n There is something very wrong with\n this, it was us that wanted to buy a\n caravan off him."," EXT. ANOTHER BACK ALLEY MAKESHIFT BOXING RING - - DAY\n\n ...And the whip pan shot takes us into this boxing ring.\n Meet TURKISH, he is Tommy's partner. Turkish is older and\n wiser than Tommy, they are both watching Gorgeous go through\n his paces. Gorgeous George is head butting a heavy punch\n bag. The sound that emanates is disturbing, and Tommy is\n distracted.\n\n TOMMY\n\n ","CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n26 CONTINUED:\n\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n You know what he's done to people on\n that pool table?\n They both give the table an eyeball.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n What, potted more balls than any\n other player? What else can you do\n to people on a pool table?\n\n TURKISH\n\n Quite a fuckin lot if"],["Sol points at the man on the floor who is carrying the case.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n Let me see your hands.\n The man holds his hands up. He has got a perfect set of\n five fingers on both hands. Sol puts his head in his hands.\n Pauline and the other clerk put two bags full of coins on\n the counter. Sol picks them up and frowns, he's not happy\n with a bag full of change. He puts his gun down and starts\n to rifle through the bag. Pauline","BTT\n\n Robbed. I gotta see a man who looks\n like he might know something, but it\n can't be done on the phone if you\n know what I mean.\n He turns to Rose Bud.\n\n ROSE BUD\n\n I need a cun.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTI NUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n75 CONTINUED:\n\n\n BTT\n\n No you don't, Rose Bud my old son,","So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n"," shattering bullet-proof glass all around them. Vinny's panic\n filled eyes attempt to follow its trajectory. Sol is unaware\n of the ricochet and before Vin has time to warn him, Sol\n fires another bullet. Now he observes the problem and waits\n for the inevitable. The bullet tears through the bag of\n coins, which then empties its contents at Vin's and Sol's\n feet. Eventually the bullet hits poor Vince in the thigh.\n Sol sinks to the floor, he has given up. Amongst the yells","have you got?\n\n PAULINE\n\n Nothing, I mean we got a few coins\n but no notes.\n\n VINNY\n\n Can we just get out of here please.\n I am not feeling too funny.\n Sol's temper does have a limit.\n\n SOL\n\n Well I am not feeling too fucking\n funny myself, let me tell you!\n Sol points at the man on the floor who is carrying the case.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n Let me see","\n Btt turns to Hands.\n\n BTT\n\n Give us your wallet Hands.\n Hands makes eyes and digs into his back pocket and produces\n his wallet. BTT takes out some notes and proffers them to\n Mullet, Mullet nervously reaches forward. As quick as you\n like Btt has Mullet by the collar and pulls Mullet into the\n car. He then raises the electric window on Mullet's throat\n until it has fastened Mullet to the roof of the vehicle.\n\n\n\n\n","There is a pause. Sol knows he's fucked. She points to a\n black board that clearly states \"ALL BETS ARE OFF\"\n\n SOL\n\n I ain't buying that.\n\n PAULINE\n\n I ain't fuckin selling it, it's a\n fact! . ''.\n Pause\n\n SOL\n\n Well, what have you got?\n\n PAULINE\n\n Nothing, I mean we got a few coins\n but no notes.\n\n ","\n counter and a security screen comes flying up at a very rapid\n rate of knots protecting all the counters. This has the\n unfortunate consequence of taking Vinny with it. Poor Vin\n is shot straight to the ceiling, all we can see is half a\n body and his desperately searching for ground legs. Needless\n to say this leaves Sol in a bit of a bewildered state. He's\n looking the wrong way at the critical moment and is left\n wondering what happened, not having seen Vince impaled on\n the ceiling. Sol extracts the enormous","s a good idea you\n going in at all.\n The car surges off round the back.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Unless you are going to\n transcendentally extract the passports\n and cash from out of a steel safe, I\n can't see any other way of getting\n them. Keep your eyes peeled.\n Turkish has another look around the back\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Well I can't see anyone. After I\n have got","\n except the two that died of course.\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,","The\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\n\n ,, · '\n\n wrong way.\n\n TYRONE\n\n What the fuck are you two doing?\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four F","of times - nothing happens, but on\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\n\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\n\n\n\n\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\n to take the case off him but i t ' s"," SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\n\n\n TAKES US SEAMLESSLY INTO ANOTHER SHOT AND SET UP. THIS GOES\n\n\n ON FOR THE DURATION OF THE CREDITS. CUT BACK TO:\n\n\n\n\n Franky Four Fingers opens a fancy case, presses a hidden\n catch, this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The","money.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n40 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n\n\n\n VINNY\n\n I don't believe this. Why are you\n carrying round a case with this little\n in it? . .\n\n\n\n Vin turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\n comp","keep the\n money.\n He rubs his fingers symbolically together\n\n\n\n\n TYRONE\n\n What's in the case?\n Sol turns round to talk to Tyrone.\n\n SOL\n\n Fuckin 'ell Tyrone you ask a lot of\n questions. You concentrate on the\n driving okay?\n He turns back just as a MAN is stepping into the bookies: he\n is carrying a case.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n ","MAN is stepping into the bookies: he\n is carrying a case.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n Shit, was that him?\n\n .' VINNY\n\n Don't ask me, you're the one supposed\n to keep an eye on it. How many\n fingers did he have?\n\n SOL\n\n Are you serious? I am sorry but I\n couldn't get the binoculars out in\n time.\n\n VINNY\n\n Well let","DOUG\n\n Yes.\n\n HANDS\n\n And he's gone gambling? That's Franky\n \"I have a problem with gambling\"\n fuckin Four Fingers, you are talking\n about Doug.\n\n DOUG\n\n What am I, telepathic?\n\n HANDS\n\n Franky is good at buying stones Doug\n but he's a fuckin liability when it\n comes to gambling. That has cost\n me. So in turn rit' s cost him. He\n ","He puts his foot down and Mullet loses his footing, and is\n dragged along. '.\n\n HANDS\n\n What about?\n He points to Mullet. BTT pulls an, 'oh yes I forgot about\n him1 face. He doesn't even look at Mullet. He lowers the\n window, and Mullet falls by the way, in god knows what\n condition.\n\n78 INT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n The music continues, and we have a montage of the black","then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN DRIVER\n looks dramatically calm.\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Pass him the money.\n Franky hesitates for a second.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n Franky you know you have no choice.\n So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent","I don't know what they are, all I\n know is they have a caravan, and we\n want a Caravan.\n\n TOMMY\n\n I hope they're not pikies. I hate\n fucking pikies.\n\n TURKISH\n\n You're a sensitive boy, ain't you\n Tommy? You got ten grand and I want\n to see change.\nHe is distracted by the bulge in Tommy's trouser front.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D"],["\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\n\n BORIS\n\n I want you to do something for me .\n Franky nods for him to go on .\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky:"," What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\n been exposed.\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a bookies I know that will\n take bets. If you place one down\n for me we will call it quits.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ","this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n If you need a man in London then\n call this number.\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n"," combination you just shot.\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\n foot machete that he was concealing about his person. He\n pulls the case towards him and brings the machete down with\n full force. We can tell by the expression on Tyrone's face\n that it must have been some part of Franky's anatomy.\n Pointing to the ground:\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body","\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body,\n but if I see you again...well look\n at him.\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\n you like.\n\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\n\n","\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n We want half and that's because we\n are being generous. We could by\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\n black guys are stunned into silence.\n\n BORIS\n\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\n who","have we got here?\n\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop. He walks in.\n\n42 INT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Franky is tied up on a stool, in front of him is the case\n and it's open. Boris waves the black guys to come into the\n corridor so they can talk without being heard.\n\n BORIS\n\n What are you doing with him?\n\n SOL\n\n ","me? You've done a good job\n Franky, don't go and fuck it up.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n I hear ya Hands. I see ya Hands.\n The phone goes down and Hands looks up at a COLLEAGUE.\n\n HANDS\n\n He's got it.\n\n\n\n\n6 INT. BORIS1 HOUSE\n\n On the phone subtitled\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Yes he's got it.","it Boris?\n\n BORIS\n\n Heavy is good. Heavy is reliable.\n If it doesn't work you can hit him\n with it.\n Tommy practices a couple of gun slinging maneuvers. He's\n impressed. At that moment the door opens and in walks a MAN\n carrying two heavy sacks of coins. He's a rough looking\n bastard, he's massive, and extremely ugly. Meet GORGEOUS\n\n GEORGE.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ","UN CHAMBER\n\n\n BORIS\n\n The weight is a sign of reliability.\n I always go for reliability.\n Boris is showing Franky a large pistol.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n I ' l l take it. How much do you want\n for -it?\n\n BORIS\n\n Nothing.\n Pause\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\n\n BORIS","name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Boris, Boris can get you anything\n you need.\n\n CUT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\n\n\n :\n\n\n3 INT. LONDON - AMUSEMENT ARCADE -- DAY\n\n\n C UT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\n\n\n\n\n We are in the back room","ANDS\n\n Yeah, Doug the Head. But get some\n security. I mean it, get it today,\n speak to those Russians, they can\n get you anything. And. . .\n\n\n\n Dramatic pause\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n And what?\n\n HANDS\n\n No fuckin around in any casinos, you\n hear me? You've done a good job\n Franky, don't go and fuck it up.\n\n FRANKY FO","then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN DRIVER\n looks dramatically calm.\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Pass him the money.\n Franky hesitates for a second.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n Franky you know you have no choice.\n So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent","\n there wasn't much but, here's ten\n large to help the situation.\n\n VINNY\n\n I am afraid it's too late for that\n Boris. -\n He holds up the diamond. Boris1 eyes follow him as he walks\n back into the room where Franky is and puts the diamond back\n into the case while he's talking and changes the combination.\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n We want half and that's because we\n are being generous. We could","DOUG\n\n No it's true. I can't find'him, but\n I know a man that can.\n Cut to a shot of Hands encouraging him to continue.\n\n DOUG (CONT'D)\n\n Tony. Bullet Tooth Tony. He'll\n find Franky for you.\n\n HANDS\n\n Who's he?\n Susi interrupts.\n\n SUSI\n\n ·What is he?' Would be a more\n appropriate","(CONT'D)\n\n Jesus, where did you come from?\n\n BORIS\n\n Uzbekistan.\n\n VINNY\n\n Oi Sol, Boris is here.\n\n SOL\n\n Boris, what's up?\n\n BORIS\n\n I have a job for you.\n\n SOL\n\n Go on.\n\n BORIS\n\n I want you to hold up a bookies.\n\n S","is FRANKY FOUR -FINGERS, (New York street\n wise Jew) who is clutching a fancy looking briefcase which\n is handcuffed to his wrist. He is flanked by TWO RUSSIAN\n HOODS. This next section will be subtitled.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n How much further do we have to go?\n Just then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN D","looking for Franky Four Fingers.\n\n DOUG\n\n Well he said he was going to be here.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n36 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n HANDS\n\n If there's gambling involved, he'll\n be here.\n They get nudged aside by an entourage of men coming through.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)","\n Go on.\n\n BORIS\n\n I want you to hold up a bookies.\n\n SOL\n\n How high do you want us to hold it?\n Steady on George. We deal in\n jewellery Boris, we don't hold up\n bookies.\n We can hear Vinny in the background\n\n BORIS\n\n Hear me out. This one is different.\n\n14 INT. TOMMY'S VAN -- DAY","DOUG\n\n Yes.\n\n HANDS\n\n And he's gone gambling? That's Franky\n \"I have a problem with gambling\"\n fuckin Four Fingers, you are talking\n about Doug.\n\n DOUG\n\n What am I, telepathic?\n\n HANDS\n\n Franky is good at buying stones Doug\n but he's a fuckin liability when it\n comes to gambling. That has cost\n me. So in turn rit' s cost him. He\n "],["face. Go on\n try it.\n Tommy sticks the gun out the window and pulls the trigger.\n Nothing happens.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINU ED)\n\n\n\n\n\n67 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n\n\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Whoops.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\n Russian.\n\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BRO","\n\n\n Again we cut to the reactions of the relevant parties.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Tommy get the van.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I have it, it's waiting.\n Turkish jumps into the ring and grabs Micky.\n\n TURKISH\n\n We are off Micky, hold tight, and\n move quickly. ,\n Turkish pulls Micky away. It's not as hard as it might be\n trying to get out,"," TOMMY\n\n What's wrong with this one?\n Turning back to Tommy and ascending the steps in to his \"I\n have seen better days\" caravan, TURKISH'S foot goes through\n one of the stairs and the.door comes off at the hinges as he\n tries to open it.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Oh nothing Tommy, it's tip top, it's\n just I am not sure about the colour.\n He passes him a piece of paper\n\n TUR","see change.\nHe is distracted by the bulge in Tommy's trouser front.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Fuck me, hold tight, what's that?\n\n TOMMY\n\n It's my Gucci belt, Turkish.\nPointing quite clearly at the gun.\n\n TURKISH\n\n No Tommy, there's a gun in your\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\n your trousers?\n\n TOMMY\n\n It","in your\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\n your trousers?\n\n TOMMY\n\n It's for protection.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Protection from what, the Germans?\n The war ended fifty years ago. Err\n what's to stop it blowing your balls\n off every time you sit down? Where\n did you get it?\nLooking down onto his gun.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Boris the Blade.\n\n TURKISH\n\n ","outside the pikey camp. Micky's\n Mum is sitting in her chair surrounded by kids.\n\n MUM\n\n They're very nice Tommy. Thank you.\n Tommy has produced a bunch of flowers from somewhere. Turkish\n finds this a great surprise.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Where did they come from? You're a\n snake in the grass Tommy.\n\n MUM\n\n You looking for Micky?\n\n TURKISH\n\n 'Do you"," SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\n\n\n TAKES US SEAMLESSLY INTO ANOTHER SHOT AND SET UP. THIS GOES\n\n\n ON FOR THE DURATION OF THE CREDITS. CUT BACK TO:\n\n\n\n\n Franky Four Fingers opens a fancy case, presses a hidden\n catch, this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The"," EXT. ANOTHER BACK ALLEY MAKESHIFT BOXING RING - - DAY\n\n ...And the whip pan shot takes us into this boxing ring.\n Meet TURKISH, he is Tommy's partner. Turkish is older and\n wiser than Tommy, they are both watching Gorgeous go through\n his paces. Gorgeous George is head butting a heavy punch\n bag. The sound that emanates is disturbing, and Tommy is\n distracted.\n\n TOMMY\n\n ","the window and the car\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n2 CONTINUED:\n\n Franky opens the package and he reveals a stone the size of\n a fist. He shines a torch onto it and puts a stone inspectin\n monocle to his eye. He's satisfied.\n\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX","\n Pause for thought, then Turkish has the look of a man that\n has come across a really bright idea.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Jesus!\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n What?\n\n\n\n\n TURKISH\n\n Let's use the fuckin pikey.\n\n22 INT. DOUG'S OFFICE -- DAY\n\n Doug the Head and Franky Four Fingers are doing a deal.\n Doug has a case open and","Turkish looks back at him blankly.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Here let me do you a favour.\n He reaches over and grabs the carton from Turkish, and throws\n it out the window. The milk obviously hits an on-coming car\n . in the other direction. There is a terrible crashing noise.\n Tommy and Turkish come to a standstill, and look back to see\n a small pile up on the other side of the road.\n\n TOMMY (CONT'D)\n\n What was in that milk?\n","CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n26 CONTINUED:\n\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n You know what he's done to people on\n that pool table?\n They both give the table an eyeball.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n What, potted more balls than any\n other player? What else can you do\n to people on a pool table?\n\n TURKISH\n\n Quite a fuckin lot if","for the fights\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n How am I supposed to run this thing\n from that? We gonna need a proper\n office.\n He looks at the caravan again and sighs, it is quite pitiful\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n I want a new one Tommy and you 're\n going to buy it for me.\n\n TOMMY\n\n What's wrong with this one?\n Turning back to Tommy and ascending the steps in to his \"","\n\n We see Turkish with a somewhat serious expression on his\n face he has his customary pint of milk on one side, he takes\n a sip and \"ohhhs\" and \"arrrs\" for a while.\n\n .TURKISH\n\n So you're telling me he would have\n run you through if Gorgeous hadn't\n woken up?\n\n TOMMY\n\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\n fuck","?\n Turkish looks at the WATER BOY.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Oi son, look lively.\n\n\n\n He turns .back to Tommy.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Look at it.\n\n\n\n He turns to see the remnants of a caravan where they keep\n the training gear and administration for the fights\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n How am I supposed to run this thing\n from that?","\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Well I can't see anyone. After I\n have got in go round the front and\n call me if you see anything.\n\n44 INT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE\n\n Turkish lets himself in and walks through. Everything seems\n to be fine. ·\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n44 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n He walks into his office, has a quick","Well aren't you going to answer it?\n Turkish does.\n\n45 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\n\n Tommy on the phone.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n45 CONTINUED:\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n Brick Top's just landed, he's walking\n in the front, I would move it if I\n were you Turkish...\n Turkish puts down the phone","I don't know what they are, all I\n know is they have a caravan, and we\n want a Caravan.\n\n TOMMY\n\n I hope they're not pikies. I hate\n fucking pikies.\n\n TURKISH\n\n You're a sensitive boy, ain't you\n Tommy? You got ten grand and I want\n to see change.\nHe is distracted by the bulge in Tommy's trouser front.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D","\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n21 CONTINUED:\n\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n What the fuck did you expect? A\n grease down and a shiatsu?\n\n TOMMY\n\n Who took the jam out of your donut?\n\n TURKISH\n\n You took the fuckin jam out of my\n donut Tommy, you did.\n\n TOMMY\n\n You said get a good","withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\n\n HANDS\n\n Well come on, let's have a look.\n Brick Top passes the stone to Hands. All goes quiet while\n everybody focuses on the stone. Hands lifts it up to his\n eye.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)\n\n What are you playing at? -\n He drops the stone: it smashes on the ground.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)\n\n It's a zircon"],[" SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\n\n\n TAKES US SEAMLESSLY INTO ANOTHER SHOT AND SET UP. THIS GOES\n\n\n ON FOR THE DURATION OF THE CREDITS. CUT BACK TO:\n\n\n\n\n Franky Four Fingers opens a fancy case, presses a hidden\n catch, this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The","of times - nothing happens, but on\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\n\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\n\n\n\n\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\n to take the case off him but i t ' s","\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\n\n BORIS\n\n I want you to do something for me .\n Franky nods for him to go on .\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky:","have we got here?\n\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop. He walks in.\n\n42 INT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Franky is tied up on a stool, in front of him is the case\n and it's open. Boris waves the black guys to come into the\n corridor so they can talk without being heard.\n\n BORIS\n\n What are you doing with him?\n\n SOL\n\n ","money.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n40 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n\n\n\n VINNY\n\n I don't believe this. Why are you\n carrying round a case with this little\n in it? . .\n\n\n\n Vin turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\n comp","this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n If you need a man in London then\n call this number.\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n","DOUG\n\n Yes.\n\n HANDS\n\n And he's gone gambling? That's Franky\n \"I have a problem with gambling\"\n fuckin Four Fingers, you are talking\n about Doug.\n\n DOUG\n\n What am I, telepathic?\n\n HANDS\n\n Franky is good at buying stones Doug\n but he's a fuckin liability when it\n comes to gambling. That has cost\n me. So in turn rit' s cost him. He\n "," (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\n to his wrist.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\n\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\n\n\n\n\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree","\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body,\n but if I see you again...well look\n at him.\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\n you like.\n\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\n\n","\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n We want half and that's because we\n are being generous. We could by\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\n black guys are stunned into silence.\n\n BORIS\n\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\n who","looking for Franky Four Fingers.\n\n DOUG\n\n Well he said he was going to be here.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n36 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n HANDS\n\n If there's gambling involved, he'll\n be here.\n They get nudged aside by an entourage of men coming through.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)"," What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\n been exposed.\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a bookies I know that will\n take bets. If you place one down\n for me we will call it quits.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ","The\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\n\n ,, · '\n\n wrong way.\n\n TYRONE\n\n What the fuck are you two doing?\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four F","- as Tyrone parks the van )\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\n\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\n\n\n WE FADE UP\n","metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\n van was blocking his exit.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone"," combination you just shot.\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\n foot machete that he was concealing about his person. He\n pulls the case towards him and brings the machete down with\n full force. We can tell by the expression on Tyrone's face\n that it must have been some part of Franky's anatomy.\n Pointing to the ground:\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body","So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n","\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n22 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Some guy called Bomber Harris.\n\n DOUG\n\n The unlicensed boxer? You know\n something I don't?\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Maybe.\n Doug raises his eyebrows\n\n\n\n\n DOUG\n\n You get busy Frank","guys trying to open the case. They have\n Franky's hand up on a desk and are fiddling with the handcuff,\n whatever they are trying to break in with snaps off. Vinny\n is frustrated and illustrates his dissatisfaction.\n\n SOL\n\n Where ' s the Russian?\n\n VINNY\n\n He should be here in a minute. Well\n get him to open it.\n Vinny turns to Franky who has tape over his eyes.\n\n VINNY (","\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\n to take the case off him but i t ' s handcuffed to his wrist.\n So he has little choice but to pick him up and throw him in\n to the back of the car with the other two.\n\n\n\n\n40 INT. PAWN BROKERS -- DAY\n\n We cut to the black guys trying to open the case. They have\n Franky's hand up on a desk and are fiddling with the handcuff,"],["a lamp post. They crash and the boot\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\n himself out. Rose Bud looks down at the sword he has been\n extracting he can see he very nearly cut himself in two.\n Tony pulls himself up from the steering wheel he has a trickle\n of blood running down his face. There's a crash and a car\n hits em from behind.\n\n96 INT. TYRONE'S CAR --NIGHT\n\n\n\n\n They too are recovering from","\n what we must believe is coke, it's open, and Charlie has it\n all over his nose. .\n\n TONY (CONT'D)\n\n You silly fucker, you can't go running\n off with other people's gear. How\n much you put up your nose?\n Charlie opens up, he fires four shots straight into Tony who\n buckles and falls to the floor. Tony seems only shaken and\n he holds his hands out to inspect them, he's bleeding.\n\n ","'s\n got a sharp side and a blunt side.\n You want a lesson?\n There is a sudden bang on the windshield and BTT turns back\n to the front only to see the windshield covered in milk.\n Tony can't see where he is going and searches for the\n windshield wipers. While this is happening the car swerves\n to the side and hits a lamp post. They crash and the boot\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\n himself out","\n Go down-boy, go down.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n47 CONTINUED:\n\n Tony keeps going for him. Charlie raises the gun and points\n it at Tony's face and fires the last shot. The bullet goes\n straight into his mouth but it went in at an angle and it\n exits his cheek. Tony is standing there with six. bullet\n holes in him and bleeding all over the carpet. As he talks\n blood courses its way down his front and","Tyrone spins in his seat and answers a little too loudly.\n\n TYRONE\n\n I am fuckin deaf! What have you\n done to my car?\n They crash into the car in front. Boris the Blade comes\n flying through the windshield.\n\n95 INT. BTT CAR -- NIGHT\n\n (This scene runs concurrently with scene 91)\n\n HNS\n\n\n AD- .......\n\n How we going to get rid of","and falls to the floor. Tony seems only shaken and\n he holds his hands out to inspect them, he's bleeding.\n\n TONY (CONT'D)\n\n Oh you silly cunt.\n Tony stands and walks towards Charlie. Charlie is\n understandably shocked and fires another. It goes straight\n through Tony and we see the blood hit the wall behind.\n\n CHARLIE\n\n Go down-boy, go down.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n","one makes to move the van forward again.\n\n VINNY\n\n Well don't move it now, otherwise\n people will see the damage. What\n did you do that for? ^\n\n TYRONE\n\n I didn't see it there.\n\n VINNY\n\n Eh? It's a four ton truck. It' s\n not as though i t ' s a ferret fuckin a\n flea is it?\n\n TYRONE","SOL\n\n Well you better start thinking Vince\n because otherwise you'll be fuckin\n lucky if you end up looking like\n that.\n\n99 INT. BTT'S CAR .\n\n\n\n\n\n BTT\n\n You alright?\n\n HANDS\n\n No I am about a rocket ride from\n right Tony.\n\n BTT\n\n I mean do you feel alright?\n\n HANDS\n\n Oh","much trouble\n you' d be in.\n\n CHARLIE\n\n You come through that door and you'll\n be going out prostrate.\n\n TONY\n\n It doesn't belong to you Charlie.\n He kicks open the door. CHARLIE is standing behind his desk\n holding a pistol directly at Tony. On the table is a bag of\n what we must believe is coke, it's open, and Charlie has it\n all over his nose. .\n\n ","behind.\n\n96 INT. TYRONE'S CAR --NIGHT\n\n\n\n\n They too are recovering from the accident. And Boris has\n now come headfirst through the windshield.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n96 CONTINUED: -\n\n\n\n\n\n VINNY\n\n You idiot what have you done?\n\n SOL\n\n Is that Boris?\n\n\n\n\n","is standing there with six. bullet\n holes in him and bleeding all over the carpet. As he talks\n blood courses its way down his front and a strong lisp is\n frustrating the words.\n\n TONY\n\n Ohh you'f in twouble nowf.\n\n\n\n Tony slowly extracts a short sword from behind him. Fear\n has set into Charlie's face and has rendered him useless.\n\n\n\n\n FADE IN:\n\n\n48 INT. VANTAGE ·\n\n The car","The\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\n\n ,, · '\n\n wrong way.\n\n TYRONE\n\n What the fuck are you two doing?\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four F","'D)\n\n Chop chop.\n\n\n\n The barman walks down the end of a bar and picks up the phone.\n\n HANDS\n\n What was it you did exactly Tony?\n\n BTT\n\n I had a little run in with a few of\n the chaps.\n\n HANDS\n\n How ' s that ?\n\n BTT\n\n They're all brainless, they got white\n powdered angels sitting on their\n shoulders telling them what was","TINUED:\n\n We pull back to see four slumped heads in the car and blood\n staining the windscreen. Brick Top calmly puts the phone\n down.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Right lets get outta here.\n Brick Top is looking every which way and trying to get out\n of there, accompanied by Ken.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT.'D)\n\n Where's the car Ken?\n\n\n\n\n KEN\n\n I t ' s coming","S\n\n He's a sneaky fucker that Russian.\n Well shall we go?\n\n BTT ·\n\n What you want to do about the Russian?\n\n HANDS\n\n I want to bury him.\n\n EXT. BORIS1 HOUSE\n\n\n93\n\n\n\n\n Hands, Tony and Rosebud walk out.\n\n94 INT. TYRONE'S CAR\n\n\n\n\n The black guys witness this. Tyrone's now in the","'t sure about this either. Vin is in a panic and\n suddenly.\n\n VINNY\n\n Stop! I can see it. I can see the\n stone.\n Hands at the point of entry stops. Vinny hops over to the\n stone and picks it up. Tony lets the dog stand but keeps a\n grip oh the collar. The dog is relieved to be semi-liberated.\n Hands is still on his knees armed with an incredulous stare.\n\n HANDS\n\n Well let's see","makes\n you feel any better.\n Cut to Tony having some problems trying to get hold of the\n awkward dog. The dog starts to squeak. Tony passes the\n blade to Hands.\n\n BTT\n\n I t ' s squeaking.\n\n HANDS\n\n What, you've never heard a dog squeak\n before?... Hold him still.\n The dog isn't sure about this either. Vin is in a panic and\n suddenly.\n\n VINNY\n\n Stop! I can","abin. ..\n\n TONY\n\n Open up Charlie.\n\n CHARLIE\n\n Fuck off. The only thing I'11 open\n up is you.\n\n TONY\n\n I t ' s lucky you .got me Charlie, it\n could have been one of the other\n lads, and then think how much trouble\n you' d be in.\n\n CHARLIE\n\n You come through that door and you'll","Tony.\n\n BTT\n\n I mean do you feel alright?\n\n HANDS\n\n Ohh yeah, I feel like I am lying on\n the naked lap of Aphrodite, cooled\n by the tumbling petals of spring\n roses, how the fuck do you think I\n feel?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n99 CONTINUED: -\n\n\n\n\n\n "," HANDS\n\n I mean open him up..\n Tony is not sure about this.\n\n BTT\n\n I t ' s not a fuckin tin of baked beans,\n what do you mean open him up?\n\n HANDS\n\n I mean open him up.\n Hands does a movement that represents a knife across the\n throat.\n\n BTT\n\n That's a bit strong isn't it?\n\n HANDS\n\n You wouldn't have a"],["The\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\n\n ,, · '\n\n wrong way.\n\n TYRONE\n\n What the fuck are you two doing?\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four F","- as Tyrone parks the van )\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\n\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\n\n\n WE FADE UP\n","of times - nothing happens, but on\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\n\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\n\n\n\n\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\n to take the case off him but i t ' s","money.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n40 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n\n\n\n VINNY\n\n I don't believe this. Why are you\n carrying round a case with this little\n in it? . .\n\n\n\n Vin turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\n comp"," combination you just shot.\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\n foot machete that he was concealing about his person. He\n pulls the case towards him and brings the machete down with\n full force. We can tell by the expression on Tyrone's face\n that it must have been some part of Franky's anatomy.\n Pointing to the ground:\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body","turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\n compartment in the case.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Now be a bunch of good fellas and\n lie down on the floor.\n\n\n\n Tyrone goes for the big gun and Franky pulls the trigger.\n Nothing happens other than a big click, there is silence for\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\n eyes. :","this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n If you need a man in London then\n call this number.\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n","\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n We want half and that's because we\n are being generous. We could by\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\n black guys are stunned into silence.\n\n BORIS\n\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\n who","backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\n\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\n\n\n WE FADE UP\n\n (Time-wise, we're now at the end of scene 34)\n Frankie wakes up. He has a trickle of blood dripping down\n the back of his neck, he looks at his watch and panics. He\n kicks the doors a couple of times - nothing happens, but on\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\n off and makes his way to the"," (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\n to his wrist.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\n\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\n\n\n\n\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree","\n except the two that died of course.\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,","then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN DRIVER\n looks dramatically calm.\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Pass him the money.\n Franky hesitates for a second.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n Franky you know you have no choice.\n So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent","MY\n\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\n Russian.\n\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BROKERS\n\n\n\n\n Vin and Sol are trying to wrap Franky's body up. Bad Boy\n Lincoln has been called in to help.\n\n BAD BOY LINCOLN\n\n What happened to him?\n\n SOL\n\n He got shot in the face Lincoln, I\n would have thought that was obvious.\n\n BA D BOY LINCOLN\n","\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body,\n but if I see you again...well look\n at him.\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\n you like.\n\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\n\n","metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\n van was blocking his exit.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone","DOUG\n\n No it's true. I can't find'him, but\n I know a man that can.\n Cut to a shot of Hands encouraging him to continue.\n\n DOUG (CONT'D)\n\n Tony. Bullet Tooth Tony. He'll\n find Franky for you.\n\n HANDS\n\n Who's he?\n Susi interrupts.\n\n SUSI\n\n ·What is he?' Would be a more\n appropriate","have we got here?\n\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop. He walks in.\n\n42 INT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Franky is tied up on a stool, in front of him is the case\n and it's open. Boris waves the black guys to come into the\n corridor so they can talk without being heard.\n\n BORIS\n\n What are you doing with him?\n\n SOL\n\n ","\n what we must believe is coke, it's open, and Charlie has it\n all over his nose. .\n\n TONY (CONT'D)\n\n You silly fucker, you can't go running\n off with other people's gear. How\n much you put up your nose?\n Charlie opens up, he fires four shots straight into Tony who\n buckles and falls to the floor. Tony seems only shaken and\n he holds his hands out to inspect them, he's bleeding.\n\n ","\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\n to take the case off him but i t ' s handcuffed to his wrist.\n So he has little choice but to pick him up and throw him in\n to the back of the car with the other two.\n\n\n\n\n40 INT. PAWN BROKERS -- DAY\n\n We cut to the black guys trying to open the case. They have\n Franky's hand up on a desk and are fiddling with the handcuff,","is FRANKY FOUR -FINGERS, (New York street\n wise Jew) who is clutching a fancy looking briefcase which\n is handcuffed to his wrist. He is flanked by TWO RUSSIAN\n HOODS. This next section will be subtitled.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n How much further do we have to go?\n Just then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN D"],[" TURKISH '\n\n His mum.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Are' you taking the piss again?\n\n TURKISH\n\n That's what he said, she's a nice\n old girl his mum.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n You're on thin ice Turkish, and I am\n going to be there when it breaks.\n He puts the phone down and inhales.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n Anything for an easy"," (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n69 CONTINUED:. .\n\n\n\n\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Like I said I wasn't giving you a\n choice. I am telling you that fuckin\n gypsy has got to fight.\n\n70 INT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE\n\n Turkish is on the other end of the phone to Brick Top. Tommy\n is trying to listen in to what is being said.\n\n TURKISH\n\n I am","Brick Top. Tommy\n is trying to listen in to what is being said.\n\n TURKISH\n\n I am sorry, but he's a stubborn\n bastard, he says he's had enough, he\n says he's got to look after his old\n mum.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n His what? ·.-· . ..\n\n TURKISH '\n\n His mum.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Are' you taking the piss","now you can open it. .\n There is nothing Turkish can do.\n\n46 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE\n\n Brick Top exits with Errol and John and grimaces with.the\n light. He's holding the contents of Turkish's safe.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n He's been a busy little bastard that\n Turkish.\n\n ERROL\n\n I think you have let him get away\n with enough all ready gov.\n Brick Top looks round with some concern","ible silence between the men reflects Brick Top's\n authority.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n Well, where did you lose him? He\n isn't a set of fuckin car keys is\n he? And it's not as though he is\n inconfuckinspicuous is it?\n\n TURKISH\n\n I am not backing out.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n You can bet your bollocks to a barn\n dance you'","fighter.\n Brick Top wasn't expecting anything out of Tommy.\n\n\n\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Oh fuck me your lady friend has got\n a voice. And who might you be\n changing him to, sweetheart?\n\n TURKISH\n\n You won't know him.\n Pause: a look of you're kidding comes over his face.\n\n\n\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Are you taking the piss?\n\n TURKISH\n\n","Well aren't you going to answer it?\n Turkish does.\n\n45 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\n\n Tommy on the phone.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n45 CONTINUED:\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n Brick Top's just landed, he's walking\n in the front, I would move it if I\n were you Turkish...\n Turkish puts down the phone","\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n You're going to have to repeat that.\n\n TURKISH\n\n We have lost Gorgeous George.\n Brick Top turns round again at the already subdued crowd, he\n doesn't raise his voice but the crowd reacts.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n I said keep the noise down.. . .\n A tangible silence between the men reflects Brick Top's\n authority.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n ",".\n\n\n\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Are you taking the piss?\n\n TURKISH\n\n No, there was an accident.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n I'll show you a fuckin accident.\n\n TURKISH\n\n You've still got your fight.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n No, I lose all bets at the bookies.\n You can't change fighters at the\n last minute, so no, I","45 CONTINUED: (2)\n\n\n\n\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n Carry on. You've provided me with a\n problem, which you gonna have to\n remedy. I gotta bare knuckle fight\n in a couple of days. I want to use\n the pikey.\n\n\n\n\n TURKISH\n\n Of course.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Of course fuckin of course, I wasn't\n asking I was telling.","Of course.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Of course fuckin of course, I wasn't\n asking I was telling. But this time\n I do want him to go down in the\n fourth. And I do mean it this time.\n Pause\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n Now I know you,came back. to. open\n your safe, so now you can open it. .\n There is nothing Turkish can do.\n\n46 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE","ED:\n\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Look mean now you hairy fucker won't\n ya?\n He looks at the appalled faces of Turkish and Tommy.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n Shits itself when you put it in the\n ring, but poke .it with a stick and\n watch his bollocks grow. You like a\n dog fight, Turkish?\n\n TURKISH\n\n I like my dog to growl at the post\n man.\n\n ","fight, Turkish?\n\n TURKISH\n\n I like my dog to growl at the post\n man.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Gorgeous ready for tonight?\n\n TURKISH\n\n We don'c have a Gorgeous anymore.\n Brick Top turns round and indicates that he would like the\n noise around him to drop. It does marginally.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n You're going to have to repeat that.\n\n TURKISH\n\n ","\n\n It was a rhetorical question Errol,\n what have I told you about thinking?\n He turns back to the brothers.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n You got forty eight hours.\n He looks at Lincoln.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n I am going to take your man here.\n Pointing to Tyrone.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n You can keep this silly wanker.\n\n ","27 INT. BACK OF PUB - DOG FIGHT -- NIGHT\n\n A circle of blunt faces are exchanging money with one another\n A few faces turn round to examine Tommy and Turkish, they\n frown slightly but carry on about their business once they\n see they are accompanied by the muscle.\n The heavy walks over to Brick Top. The heavy taps him on\n the shoulder and whispers. He acknowledges, and gives his\n drink to the heavy. He walks over. There is a cage next to\n Brick Top which has a","\n Tony shrugs\n\n KEN\n\n He's pissed in my fuckin pocket,\n look!\n Ken shows off a wet-sided jacket and a damp set of trousers.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Do shut up Ken. That was a bit\n naughty Tony.\n Tony shrugs. Brick Top puts his hands in to his pocket and\n withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\n\n HANDS\n\n Well come on, let's have a","the pigs on the\n remains.\n Brick Top nods at Errol who looks extremely disappointed.\n\n75 INT. CAR\n\n\n\n\n BTT and Hands are driving along. Rose Bud is in the back.\n\n BTT\n\n A bookies got blagged last night.\n\n HANDS\n\n Blagged?\n\n BTT\n\n Robbed. I gotta see a man who looks\n like he might know something, but it\n can'",".\n He turns his attention to Micky.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Now you know when you're going down?\n\n TURKISH\n\n Of course he knows when he's going\n down.\n\n KEN\n\n Hey fuck face, who's speaking to\n you? He asked him didn't he?\n\n TURKISH\n\n Fuck face? I like that, I ' l l have\n to use that one next time -I want to\n impress your mum Ken.","John?\n\n JOHN\n\n Oh we don't like hostility do we\n .Errol?\n\n EROL\n\n No John we don't, but I am sure he\n could be pacified, what do you think\n John? Here you hold his arms, and\n I ' l l hold his legs.\n In walks Brick Top before the boys have had a chance to get\n a grip.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Brick Top.\n\n BR,ICK TOP","4 CONTINUED: (-3)\n\n\n\n\n We cut back to Brick Top and Hands\n\n HANDS -\n\n I 'l l pay for it, I won't pay you the\n top fuckin whack but you'll never\n get that anyway. You got it?\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n I can't sell you something I haven't\n got now can I?\n BTT returns to them - there is a scream from Ken\n\n KEN\n\n"],["money.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n40 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n\n\n\n VINNY\n\n I don't believe this. Why are you\n carrying round a case with this little\n in it? . .\n\n\n\n Vin turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\n comp","- as Tyrone parks the van )\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\n\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\n\n\n WE FADE UP\n","turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\n compartment in the case.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Now be a bunch of good fellas and\n lie down on the floor.\n\n\n\n Tyrone goes for the big gun and Franky pulls the trigger.\n Nothing happens other than a big click, there is silence for\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\n eyes. :","of times - nothing happens, but on\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\n\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\n\n\n\n\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\n to take the case off him but i t ' s"," (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\n to his wrist.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\n\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\n\n\n\n\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree","\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body,\n but if I see you again...well look\n at him.\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\n you like.\n\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\n\n","have we got here?\n\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop. He walks in.\n\n42 INT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Franky is tied up on a stool, in front of him is the case\n and it's open. Boris waves the black guys to come into the\n corridor so they can talk without being heard.\n\n BORIS\n\n What are you doing with him?\n\n SOL\n\n ","looking for Franky Four Fingers.\n\n DOUG\n\n Well he said he was going to be here.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n36 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n HANDS\n\n If there's gambling involved, he'll\n be here.\n They get nudged aside by an entourage of men coming through.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)","name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Boris, Boris can get you anything\n you need.\n\n CUT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\n\n\n :\n\n\n3 INT. LONDON - AMUSEMENT ARCADE -- DAY\n\n\n C UT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\n\n\n\n\n We are in the back room","metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\n van was blocking his exit.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone","then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN DRIVER\n looks dramatically calm.\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Pass him the money.\n Franky hesitates for a second.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n Franky you know you have no choice.\n So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent","this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n If you need a man in London then\n call this number.\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n","\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\n\n BORIS\n\n I want you to do something for me .\n Franky nods for him to go on .\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky:","UN CHAMBER\n\n\n BORIS\n\n The weight is a sign of reliability.\n I always go for reliability.\n Boris is showing Franky a large pistol.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n I ' l l take it. How much do you want\n for -it?\n\n BORIS\n\n Nothing.\n Pause\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\n\n BORIS","\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n We want half and that's because we\n are being generous. We could by\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\n black guys are stunned into silence.\n\n BORIS\n\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\n who","backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\n\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\n\n\n WE FADE UP\n\n (Time-wise, we're now at the end of scene 34)\n Frankie wakes up. He has a trickle of blood dripping down\n the back of his neck, he looks at his watch and panics. He\n kicks the doors a couple of times - nothing happens, but on\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\n off and makes his way to the","The\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\n\n ,, · '\n\n wrong way.\n\n TYRONE\n\n What the fuck are you two doing?\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four F"," combination you just shot.\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\n foot machete that he was concealing about his person. He\n pulls the case towards him and brings the machete down with\n full force. We can tell by the expression on Tyrone's face\n that it must have been some part of Franky's anatomy.\n Pointing to the ground:\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body","DOUG\n\n No it's true. I can't find'him, but\n I know a man that can.\n Cut to a shot of Hands encouraging him to continue.\n\n DOUG (CONT'D)\n\n Tony. Bullet Tooth Tony. He'll\n find Franky for you.\n\n HANDS\n\n Who's he?\n Susi interrupts.\n\n SUSI\n\n ·What is he?' Would be a more\n appropriate","face. Go on\n try it.\n Tommy sticks the gun out the window and pulls the trigger.\n Nothing happens.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINU ED)\n\n\n\n\n\n67 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n\n\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Whoops.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\n Russian.\n\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BRO"],["money.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n40 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n\n\n\n VINNY\n\n I don't believe this. Why are you\n carrying round a case with this little\n in it? . .\n\n\n\n Vin turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\n comp","turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\n compartment in the case.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Now be a bunch of good fellas and\n lie down on the floor.\n\n\n\n Tyrone goes for the big gun and Franky pulls the trigger.\n Nothing happens other than a big click, there is silence for\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\n eyes. :","UN CHAMBER\n\n\n BORIS\n\n The weight is a sign of reliability.\n I always go for reliability.\n Boris is showing Franky a large pistol.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n I ' l l take it. How much do you want\n for -it?\n\n BORIS\n\n Nothing.\n Pause\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\n\n BORIS","this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n If you need a man in London then\n call this number.\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n"," (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\n to his wrist.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\n\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\n\n\n\n\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree","\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\n\n BORIS\n\n I want you to do something for me .\n Franky nods for him to go on .\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky:","of times - nothing happens, but on\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\n\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\n\n\n\n\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\n to take the case off him but i t ' s","then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN DRIVER\n looks dramatically calm.\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Pass him the money.\n Franky hesitates for a second.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n Franky you know you have no choice.\n So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent","have we got here?\n\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop. He walks in.\n\n42 INT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Franky is tied up on a stool, in front of him is the case\n and it's open. Boris waves the black guys to come into the\n corridor so they can talk without being heard.\n\n BORIS\n\n What are you doing with him?\n\n SOL\n\n ","metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\n van was blocking his exit.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone","- as Tyrone parks the van )\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\n\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\n\n\n WE FADE UP\n","The\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\n\n ,, · '\n\n wrong way.\n\n TYRONE\n\n What the fuck are you two doing?\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four F"," combination you just shot.\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\n foot machete that he was concealing about his person. He\n pulls the case towards him and brings the machete down with\n full force. We can tell by the expression on Tyrone's face\n that it must have been some part of Franky's anatomy.\n Pointing to the ground:\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body","\n\n\n C UT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\n\n\n\n\n We are in the back room of an amusement arcade and can hear\n fruit machines beeping in the distance. Meet BORIS THE BLADE\n and TOMMY who is toying with a heavy-looking revolver.\n\n TOMMY\n\n It's a bit heavy isn't it Boris?\n\n BORIS\n\n Heavy is good. Heavy is reliable.\n If it doesn't work you can","name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Boris, Boris can get you anything\n you need.\n\n CUT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\n\n\n :\n\n\n3 INT. LONDON - AMUSEMENT ARCADE -- DAY\n\n\n C UT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\n\n\n\n\n We are in the back room","\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n We want half and that's because we\n are being generous. We could by\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\n black guys are stunned into silence.\n\n BORIS\n\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\n who","in your\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\n your trousers?\n\n TOMMY\n\n It's for protection.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Protection from what, the Germans?\n The war ended fifty years ago. Err\n what's to stop it blowing your balls\n off every time you sit down? Where\n did you get it?\nLooking down onto his gun.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Boris the Blade.\n\n TURKISH\n\n ","looking for Franky Four Fingers.\n\n DOUG\n\n Well he said he was going to be here.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n36 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n HANDS\n\n If there's gambling involved, he'll\n be here.\n They get nudged aside by an entourage of men coming through.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)","So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n"," What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\n been exposed.\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a bookies I know that will\n take bets. If you place one down\n for me we will call it quits.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n "],["this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n If you need a man in London then\n call this number.\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n","\n How much can he lose?\n Hands pulls a face like \"what kind of a stupid question is\n that?\" He them starts to shout\n\n HANDS\n\n I ' l l not forgive you Doug, I am coming\n over, get me that car.\n The phone is slammed down.\n\n\n\n\n CUT TO:\n\n\n25 EXT. AIRPLANE --\n\n\n\n\n We see the undercarriage of Concorde taking off.\n\n26 INT. BR","He touches the side of his nose and inhales.\n\n HANDS\n\n Original.\n\n DOUG\n\n So he doesn't need to do this, but\n he's got dark taste for fights and\n blood, he wants to impress London's\n criminal royalty..\n He points out JACK \"THE ALL SEEING EYE\" and SALT PETER:\n they are surrounded by heavies.\n\n DOUG (CONT'D)\n\n ..with","29 CONTINUED ·\n\n\n\n\n\n DOUG (CONT'D)\n\n Cars are his religion. He can drive\n a Valiant in the States but I can't\n drive a Vantage because they won't\n tolerate the emissions. Well, it's\n too late now, that's Concorde.\n\n SHOT OF CONCORDE'S WHEELS TOUCHING DOWN\n\n\n30 EXT. AIRPORT -- DAY\n\n\n","\n This job does have prospects after\n all, you travel to pretty places,\n meet interesting people.\n Btt looks at who Mullet is talking to, the man has a try\n hard mustache and interjects.\n\n MAN\n\n Who the fuck gave you such a big\n mouth?\n\n BTT\n\n Someone whom you might shortly meet.\n\n MAN\n\n You threatening me?\n\n BTT\n\n Only with wings and a","\n counter and a security screen comes flying up at a very rapid\n rate of knots protecting all the counters. This has the\n unfortunate consequence of taking Vinny with it. Poor Vin\n is shot straight to the ceiling, all we can see is half a\n body and his desperately searching for ground legs. Needless\n to say this leaves Sol in a bit of a bewildered state. He's\n looking the wrong way at the critical moment and is left\n wondering what happened, not having seen Vince impaled on\n the ceiling. Sol extracts the enormous"," I want two sugars in my tea. What\n do you want John?\n\n JOHN\n\n I want to see him lying cold and\n still, but we aren't here for what\n we want are we Errol?\n Errol shakes his head slowly. Turkish's phone rings. They\n let it ring for a while.\n\n ERROL\n\n Well aren't you going to answer it?\n Turkish does.\n\n45 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LOND","pulls it\n out and puts his hand through to kill the alarm. He's in.\n\n - ERROL\n\n You coming John?\n\n JOHN\n\n Is a trout's head water proof Errol?\n I wouldn't miss it for the world.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n71 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n\n ERROL\n\n Get the governor John.\n John goes back",". This is digested\n literally and mentally. The dog recognizes all the attention\n it's receiving. And goes through the motions of swallowing\n it. Hands attempts an approach. The dog understandably\n feels uncomfortable about the advancing vanguard and decides\n emergency action is needed, and seeing the open window\n launches itself out of it.\n\n FADE TO BLACK\n\n\n FADE UP\n\n\n124 EXT. CARAVAN CAMP SITE ;\n\n The pikies have moved","just landed, he's walking\n in the front, I would move it if I\n were you Turkish...\n Turkish puts down the phone\n\n ERROL\n\n What's happening with the tea?\n\n TURKISH\n\n Help yourself. You have to every\n thing else.\n\n\n\n\n ERROL\n\n That sounds like hostility, doesn't\n it John?\n\n JOHN\n\n Oh we don't like hostility do we\n .Errol?\n\n ",".\n\n HANDS\n\n Play the game Doug.\n\n11 INT. DOUG'S OFFICE\n\n\n\n\n DOUG THE HEAD is an east London Jew, about forty five, almost\n completely bald and proud of it, he sits with his two twin\n daughters ALEX and SUSI - they look like Prada models but as\n soon as they open their mouths, it's clear that they aren't,\n they have extremely rough London accents. Doug is on the\n phone to Hands.\n"," (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\n to his wrist.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\n\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\n\n\n\n\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree","'s\n got a sharp side and a blunt side.\n You want a lesson?\n There is a sudden bang on the windshield and BTT turns back\n to the front only to see the windshield covered in milk.\n Tony can't see where he is going and searches for the\n windshield wipers. While this is happening the car swerves\n to the side and hits a lamp post. They crash and the boot\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\n himself out","metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\n van was blocking his exit.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone","till you see what the pigs\n do to you.\n\n TURKISH\n\n What brings you two here, run out of\n pants to sniff?\n\n ERROL\n\n That's very good Turkish.\n\n JOHN\n\n Very cool Turkish.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Well what do you want?\n\n EROL\n\n I want two sugars in my tea. What\n do you want John?\n\n JOHN\n\n I want to","him on his own, not\n to begin with, he gets homesick.\n\n SOL\n\n Homesick, for fucks sake.\n\n VINNY\n\n He does. If he gets the chance he\n runs back to the gypsies' campsite.\n\n SOL\n\n Ohh shut up, how can he find it?\n\n VINNY\n\n I don't know Sol, I am not a dog.\n Ask him. It' s like he's got a fuckin\n ","without being heard.\n\n BORIS\n\n What are you doing with him?\n\n SOL\n\n The case was attached to his body.\n\n BORIS\n\n So why didn't you chop it off?\n Sol looks horrified by the thought.\n\n VINNY\n\n Err, because we didn't. Now Boris\n we have or rather you have a problem.\n\n BORIS\n\n What?\n\n\n\n\n ","Err. .\n\n ERROL\n\n I t 's because people are scared of\n him. You know why they are scared\n of him?\n\n SOL\n\n Err .\n\n ERROL\n\n It's because of stories. I am sure\n you've heard one or two of those\n stories. For example, did you hear\n about the three black fellas that\n did a very bad thing, however they\n made some effort to redeem that very\n ","\n\n BORIS\n\n He's your problem now. You can keep\n the\" ten grand along with the body,\n but if I see you again...well look\n at him.\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\n you like.\n\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\n\n","Y\n\n Well he's didn't come back to us.\n\n VINNY\n\n But he always came back.\n\n MICKY\n\n Well you might have noticed that we\n have moved, you should have fed him\n more, a dog will never leave you if\n you feed it properly. It was a good\n dog, he had a little flatulence\n problem but was a good dog.\n\n HANDS\n\n Are you sure he's not here?\n\n MICK"],["\n119 INT. BACK OF WAREHOUSE\n\n\n\n\n Brick Top is standing in front of Micky whose eyes are still\n semi open.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n What's wrong with you? You stoned?\n Is he fuckin stoned?\n\n TURKISH . -\n\n He's like that before a fight.\n He turns his attention to Micky.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Now you know when you're going down?",".\n\n\n\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Are you taking the piss?\n\n TURKISH\n\n No, there was an accident.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n I'll show you a fuckin accident.\n\n TURKISH\n\n You've still got your fight.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n No, I lose all bets at the bookies.\n You can't change fighters at the\n last minute, so no, I","\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \"good night\" is\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches his\n opponent's knees threaten to betray him. The crowd tries to\n digest what is happening. After a period of silence reality\n dawns. Brick Top mouths the words in silence.\"Don1t go down\n you fucker\". The crowd wants Micky to finish the job. But\n common sense reins back the coup de grace. \"Good night\"\n eventually regains control of his legs and stumbles"," (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n69 CONTINUED:. .\n\n\n\n\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Like I said I wasn't giving you a\n choice. I am telling you that fuckin\n gypsy has got to fight.\n\n70 INT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE\n\n Turkish is on the other end of the phone to Brick Top. Tommy\n is trying to listen in to what is being said.\n\n TURKISH\n\n I am","in his fighter.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n Feed em to the pigs Errol.\n With a short beat.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n He's looking good, Bomber, is he\n not? How's their man getting on?\n We whip pan off Brick Top's boxing ring...\n\n8 EXT. ANOTHER BACK ALLEY MAKESHIFT BOXING RING - - DAY\n\n ...And the"," concerned for his mum. Pause as Micky waits for her to be\n well gone.\n\n MICKY (CONT'D)\n\n I ' l l fight you for it.\n\n\n\n Tommy looks at Gorgeous George. Gorgeous George raises his\n eyebrows.\n\n20 INT. HORSE BOX, PIKEY CAMP -- DAY\n\n The two fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\n swipe","\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n118 CONTINUED:\n\n\n KEN\n\n Yeah they are there.\n Cut to a shot of some of Brick Top's heavies waiting in a\n car outside the campsite.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Where's that fuckin pikey?\n\n119 INT. BACK OF WAREHOUSE\n\n\n\n\n Brick Top is standing in front of Micky whose eyes","\n\n So Michael, you got it clear? It's\n the fourth round. I'll tap you anyway\n to let you know when to go down.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n36 CONTINUED: ( 2 )\n\n\n\n\n\n MICKY\n\n Just make sure the man doesn't kill\n me before the fuckin fourth.\n\n CUT TO:BRICK TOP"," out on their children's backs.\n Cut to a shot of Brick Top's boys lighting a cigarette in\n the car outside the pikies.\n\n\n\n\n120 INT. WAREHOUSE\n\n Micky appears from a small door at the back of the warehouse.\n He approaches the ring accompanied with shouts of\n encouragement and counter shouts. He's wearing a pair of\n semi cut tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt with grease marks\n down the front. Turkish walks behind him, Micky still looks\n","27 INT. BACK OF PUB - DOG FIGHT -- NIGHT\n\n A circle of blunt faces are exchanging money with one another\n A few faces turn round to examine Tommy and Turkish, they\n frown slightly but carry on about their business once they\n see they are accompanied by the muscle.\n The heavy walks over to Brick Top. The heavy taps him on\n the shoulder and whispers. He acknowledges, and gives his\n drink to the heavy. He walks over. There is a cage next to\n Brick Top which has a","catches a look of\n desperation from one of the villains and is eventually left\n with little choice but to hold Micky's hand up. We cut to\n the nasty looking characters that we saw before they have\n approached with their heavies, and they are obviously not\n satisfied. .\n\n SALT PETER\n\n Tha-nks for the tip, Brick top.\n\n JACK THE ALL SEEING EYE\n\n I have just said goodbye to forty\n large because of you","goes on for two rounds (which is montage down to a few\n seconds). We go in the mind of poor Micky. We break the\n music just as it's starting to look dangerous... The bell\n goes and Micky walks to the wrong corner. Turkish pulls him\n back to his corner.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n They are on ya. You got to hurt him\n Micky. Otherwise we are\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.","fighter.\n Brick Top wasn't expecting anything out of Tommy.\n\n\n\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Oh fuck me your lady friend has got\n a voice. And who might you be\n changing him to, sweetheart?\n\n TURKISH\n\n You won't know him.\n Pause: a look of you're kidding comes over his face.\n\n\n\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Are you taking the piss?\n\n TURKISH\n\n","ED:\n\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is positively out\n cold. We crashtrack into various characters' reactions:\n Brick Top, Turkish and Tommy etc. All are in shock. The\n ref (who is obviously paid off as well) tries to resuscitate\n Harris/ but it's not happening, he catches a look of\n desperation from one of the villains and is eventually left\n with little choice but to hold Micky's hand","He acknowledges, and gives his\n drink to the heavy. He walks over. There is a cage next to\n Brick Top which has a pit bull in, and Brick Top who is\n carrying a cane pokes it through the cage doors. The dog\n snarls back.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n27 CONTINUED:\n\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Look mean now you hairy fucker won't\n ya?\n He"," THE REFF\n\n Alright lads no eye gouging no biting.\n Do your worst. Back to your corners.\n\n\n\n We drift again into Micky's pov, his world is becoming more\n and more surreal. He can faintly hear Turkish whispering\n words to him, but he's not really listening. A bell comes\n from somewhere, and Micky instinctively walks to the center\n of the ring. \"Good night\" is already there, they pace one\n another for a second or two, Micky","RING -- DAY\n\n BRICK TOP (aka MR MCLEAN) is a heavy looking fella. He is\n observing a giant of a man, BOMBER HARRIS, boxing a sparring\n partner.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Two hundred and sixty pounds, that's\n fucking pedigree pal.\n He's talking to LIAM and GARY, a couple of employees.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n He doesn't look bad does he?\n\n",", I lose all bets at the bookies.\n You can't change fighters at the\n last minute, so no, I don't have my\n fight do I, you fuckin prat!\n\n TOMMY\n\n You could take bets at the fight.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Put a lead on her Turkish, Before\n she gets bitten.\n Pause\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n Make sure your man goes down in the","walks to the center\n of the ring. \"Good night\" is already there, they pace one\n another for a second or two, Micky avoids a punch or two and\n then he takes a hard one and he knows it, we flash to white,\n Micky's in trouble: he lets one of his missiles go and BANG\n it shakes \"good night\" to his core, all goes quiet. We go\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \"good night\" is\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches","45 CONTINUED: (2)\n\n\n\n\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n Carry on. You've provided me with a\n problem, which you gonna have to\n remedy. I gotta bare knuckle fight\n in a couple of days. I want to use\n the pikey.\n\n\n\n\n TURKISH\n\n Of course.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Of course fuckin of course, I wasn't\n asking I was telling."],["looking for Franky Four Fingers.\n\n DOUG\n\n Well he said he was going to be here.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n36 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n HANDS\n\n If there's gambling involved, he'll\n be here.\n They get nudged aside by an entourage of men coming through.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)","\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\n\n BORIS\n\n I want you to do something for me .\n Franky nods for him to go on .\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky:","\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n22 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Some guy called Bomber Harris.\n\n DOUG\n\n The unlicensed boxer? You know\n something I don't?\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Maybe.\n Doug raises his eyebrows\n\n\n\n\n DOUG\n\n You get busy Frank","this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n If you need a man in London then\n call this number.\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n","\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\n to take the case off him but i t ' s handcuffed to his wrist.\n So he has little choice but to pick him up and throw him in\n to the back of the car with the other two.\n\n\n\n\n40 INT. PAWN BROKERS -- DAY\n\n We cut to the black guys trying to open the case. They have\n Franky's hand up on a desk and are fiddling with the handcuff,","- as Tyrone parks the van )\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\n\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\n\n\n WE FADE UP\n","several other doorman who all\n inspect the ticket.\n\n HANDS\n\n Jesus are we ever going to get in\n there?\n\n DOUG\n\n You gotta understand that this isn't\n exactly Vegas and it's not exactly\n legal.\n\n HANDS\n\n I am not looking for Vegas, Doug, I\n am looking for Franky Four Fingers.\n\n DOUG\n\n Well he said he was going to be here.\n\n\n","\n JACK THE ALL SEEING EYE\n\n I have just said goodbye to forty\n large because of you, what's the\n crack?\n\n :\n\n\n38 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES -- DAY\n\n\n\n\n (NB: the first half of this scene happens about midway scene\n 28 - as Tyrone parks the van )\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\n He takes a","metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\n van was blocking his exit.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone","y's in a rush.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n I got stones to sell, fat to chew\n and many different men to see about\n many different dogs, so if I am not\n rushing you, could you spit shine\n the top of your smoothie and move a\n little faster?\n\n DOUG\n\n Hold tight Franky, when in Rome.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n I am not in Rome Doug, I am in a\n ","of times - nothing happens, but on\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\n\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\n\n\n\n\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\n to take the case off him but i t ' s","is FRANKY FOUR -FINGERS, (New York street\n wise Jew) who is clutching a fancy looking briefcase which\n is handcuffed to his wrist. He is flanked by TWO RUSSIAN\n HOODS. This next section will be subtitled.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n How much further do we have to go?\n Just then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN D","DOUG\n\n Yes.\n\n HANDS\n\n And he's gone gambling? That's Franky\n \"I have a problem with gambling\"\n fuckin Four Fingers, you are talking\n about Doug.\n\n DOUG\n\n What am I, telepathic?\n\n HANDS\n\n Franky is good at buying stones Doug\n but he's a fuckin liability when it\n comes to gambling. That has cost\n me. So in turn rit' s cost him. He\n ","ANDS\n\n Yeah, Doug the Head. But get some\n security. I mean it, get it today,\n speak to those Russians, they can\n get you anything. And. . .\n\n\n\n Dramatic pause\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n And what?\n\n HANDS\n\n No fuckin around in any casinos, you\n hear me? You've done a good job\n Franky, don't go and fuck it up.\n\n FRANKY FO"," What kind of a fight?\n\n BORIS\n\n Unlicensed boxing.\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\n been exposed.\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n There is a bookies I know that will\n take bets. If you place one down\n for me we will call it quits.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n "," job. What time you back?\n\n FRANK Y FOUR FINGERS\n\n I gotta move the smaller stones here;\n it shouldn't take me long. I ' l l be\n a couple of days.\n\n HANDS\n\n Speak to my cousin Doug.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Doug the Head?\n\n HANDS\n\n Yeah, Doug the Head. But get some\n security. I mean it, get it today,\n speak to those Russians","So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n","turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\n compartment in the case.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Now be a bunch of good fellas and\n lie down on the floor.\n\n\n\n Tyrone goes for the big gun and Franky pulls the trigger.\n Nothing happens other than a big click, there is silence for\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\n eyes. :"," (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\n to his wrist.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\n\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\n\n\n\n\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree","me? You've done a good job\n Franky, don't go and fuck it up.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n I hear ya Hands. I see ya Hands.\n The phone goes down and Hands looks up at a COLLEAGUE.\n\n HANDS\n\n He's got it.\n\n\n\n\n6 INT. BORIS1 HOUSE\n\n On the phone subtitled\n\n RUSSIAN\n\n Yes he's got it."],["the window and the car\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n2 CONTINUED:\n\n Franky opens the package and he reveals a stone the size of\n a fist. He shines a torch onto it and puts a stone inspectin\n monocle to his eye. He's satisfied.\n\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX","diamond\n dealer. He catches a coin.\n\n HANDS\n\n Twenty carats?\n\n5 INT. HEATHROW AIRPORT -- DAY\n\n Franky's on the phone.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Best stone I've seen in years.\n\n HANDS\n\n Good man Franky, you done a good\n job. What time you back?\n\n FRANK Y FOUR FINGERS\n\n I gotta move the smaller stones here;"," SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\n\n\n TAKES US SEAMLESSLY INTO ANOTHER SHOT AND SET UP. THIS GOES\n\n\n ON FOR THE DURATION OF THE CREDITS. CUT BACK TO:\n\n\n\n\n Franky Four Fingers opens a fancy case, presses a hidden\n catch, this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The","this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n If you need a man in London then\n call this number.\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n","eye. He's satisfied.\n\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX TO: ANOTHER\n\n\n DIAMOND BEING HELD BY AN OVERWEIGHT BLACK MAN. CUT TO: MONTAG\n\n\n INVOLVING ALL THE CHARACTERS IN THE FILM. DEALING OR HAVING\n\n\n SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\n\n\n TAKES US SEAM","withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\n\n HANDS\n\n Well come on, let's have a look.\n Brick Top passes the stone to Hands. All goes quiet while\n everybody focuses on the stone. Hands lifts it up to his\n eye.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)\n\n What are you playing at? -\n He drops the stone: it smashes on the ground.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)\n\n It's a zircon"," BORIS\n\n I ' l l toss the coin.\n He tosses the coin\n\n CUT TO: CU OF SPINNING COIN\n\n\n\n\n\n4 INT. NEW YORK_OFFICE -- DAY\n\n\n\n\n\n CUT TO :CU OF SPINNING COIN\n\n Meet HANDS. On the phone. Cool young street wise NY diamond\n dealer. He catches a coin.\n\n HANDS\n\n Twenty carats?\n\n5 INT. HE"," Top's office.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n I gotta say you have got some front\n coming round here Tone, you know the\n lads are picking straws. . .\n Interrupted\n\n BTT\n\n You gotta diamond and it doesn't\n belong to you, it belongs to my\n colleague here.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n That's what I love about you Tone,\n no small talk.\n\n BTT\n\n","DOUG\n\n Yes.\n\n HANDS\n\n And he's gone gambling? That's Franky\n \"I have a problem with gambling\"\n fuckin Four Fingers, you are talking\n about Doug.\n\n DOUG\n\n What am I, telepathic?\n\n HANDS\n\n Franky is good at buying stones Doug\n but he's a fuckin liability when it\n comes to gambling. That has cost\n me. So in turn rit' s cost him. He\n ","S OFFICE -- DAY\n\n Doug the Head and Franky Four Fingers are doing a deal.\n Doug has a case open and is admiring a couple of stones.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n From Russia with love. You\n interested? .\n\n DOUG\n\n I told you I was interested.\n Pause. Franky's in a rush.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n I got stones to sell, fat to che","other than a big click, there is silence for\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\n eyes. :\n\n\n\n\n TYRONE\n\n Whoops.\n Tyrone also looks into the case and sees the. open secret\n compartment: this also reveals the stone.\n\n TYRONE (CONT'D)\n\n Hello what have we got here?\n\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop","DAY\n\n\n\n\n Meet SOL, who's behind the counter, Vinny's partner in the\n pawn shop. He's concentrating on the deal at hand with BAD\n BOY LINCOLN and has a stone-inspecting monocle to his eye.\n\n VINNY\n\n Alright Sol, Lincoln.\n They are in deep discussion and only Lincoln responds.\n\n B AD BOY LINCOLN\n\n Vin.\n\n SOL\n\n It","He touches the side of his nose and inhales.\n\n HANDS\n\n Original.\n\n DOUG\n\n So he doesn't need to do this, but\n he's got dark taste for fights and\n blood, he wants to impress London's\n criminal royalty..\n He points out JACK \"THE ALL SEEING EYE\" and SALT PETER:\n they are surrounded by heavies.\n\n DOUG (CONT'D)\n\n ..with",".\n\n HANDS\n\n Play the game Doug.\n\n11 INT. DOUG'S OFFICE\n\n\n\n\n DOUG THE HEAD is an east London Jew, about forty five, almost\n completely bald and proud of it, he sits with his two twin\n daughters ALEX and SUSI - they look like Prada models but as\n soon as they open their mouths, it's clear that they aren't,\n they have extremely rough London accents. Doug is on the\n phone to Hands.\n","\n Go on.\n\n BORIS\n\n I want you to hold up a bookies.\n\n SOL\n\n How high do you want us to hold it?\n Steady on George. We deal in\n jewellery Boris, we don't hold up\n bookies.\n We can hear Vinny in the background\n\n BORIS\n\n Hear me out. This one is different.\n\n14 INT. TOMMY'S VAN -- DAY","So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n","black guys are stunned into silence.\n\n BORIS\n\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\n who I am. Now open the case and\n give me.the stone.\n The black guys are left with their mouths open, everything\n just changed gear and they weren't expecting that.\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n Who's next? You have the ten grand\n now give me the stone.\n The pause continues. Boris lets a shot off that tears\n worryingly close to","it's clear that they aren't,\n they have extremely rough London accents. Doug is on the\n phone to Hands.\n\n\n\n\n DOUG\n\n I am playing the game Hands. That's\n what I ' l l give ya.\n Hands shakes his head in disbelief.\n\n HANDS\n\n You gotta haggle fairly Doug,\n otherwise it'll make your hair fall\n out you'll see. .\n\n DOUG\n"," (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\n to his wrist.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\n\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\n\n\n\n\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree","\n there wasn't much but, here's ten\n large to help the situation.\n\n VINNY\n\n I am afraid it's too late for that\n Boris. -\n He holds up the diamond. Boris1 eyes follow him as he walks\n back into the room where Franky is and puts the diamond back\n into the case while he's talking and changes the combination.\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n We want half and that's because we\n are being generous. We could"],["\n except the two that died of course.\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,","Micky. Otherwise we are\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\n Micky goes out again his hands are low, BANG there is a flash\n of white as Micky goes down in the dirt. Dust rises from\n where he fell. He gets up quickly, his hands are still low,\n BANG he goes down again, in no time he's up.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n120 CONT","\n\n We see Turkish with a somewhat serious expression on his\n face he has his customary pint of milk on one side, he takes\n a sip and \"ohhhs\" and \"arrrs\" for a while.\n\n .TURKISH\n\n So you're telling me he would have\n run you through if Gorgeous hadn't\n woken up?\n\n TOMMY\n\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\n fuck","\n Go down-boy, go down.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n47 CONTINUED:\n\n Tony keeps going for him. Charlie raises the gun and points\n it at Tony's face and fires the last shot. The bullet goes\n straight into his mouth but it went in at an angle and it\n exits his cheek. Tony is standing there with six. bullet\n holes in him and bleeding all over the carpet. As he talks\n blood courses its way down his front and","see change.\nHe is distracted by the bulge in Tommy's trouser front.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Fuck me, hold tight, what's that?\n\n TOMMY\n\n It's my Gucci belt, Turkish.\nPointing quite clearly at the gun.\n\n TURKISH\n\n No Tommy, there's a gun in your\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\n your trousers?\n\n TOMMY\n\n It"," shattering bullet-proof glass all around them. Vinny's panic\n filled eyes attempt to follow its trajectory. Sol is unaware\n of the ricochet and before Vin has time to warn him, Sol\n fires another bullet. Now he observes the problem and waits\n for the inevitable. The bullet tears through the bag of\n coins, which then empties its contents at Vin's and Sol's\n feet. Eventually the bullet hits poor Vince in the thigh.\n Sol sinks to the floor, he has given up. Amongst the yells","ED:\n\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is positively out\n cold. We crashtrack into various characters' reactions:\n Brick Top, Turkish and Tommy etc. All are in shock. The\n ref (who is obviously paid off as well) tries to resuscitate\n Harris/ but it's not happening, he catches a look of\n desperation from one of the villains and is eventually left\n with little choice but to hold Micky's hand","face. Go on\n try it.\n Tommy sticks the gun out the window and pulls the trigger.\n Nothing happens.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINU ED)\n\n\n\n\n\n67 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n\n\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Whoops.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\n Russian.\n\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BRO","in your\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\n your trousers?\n\n TOMMY\n\n It's for protection.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Protection from what, the Germans?\n The war ended fifty years ago. Err\n what's to stop it blowing your balls\n off every time you sit down? Where\n did you get it?\nLooking down onto his gun.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Boris the Blade.\n\n TURKISH\n\n ","ROL\n\n Eh?\n\n MULLET\n\n Bounty, black on the outside, white\n on the inside.\n\n JOHN\n\n Go on.\n\n MULLET\n\n He was doing a job for a couple of\n brothers in Smith Street. I think\n it was a pawn shop.\n\n JOHN\n\n Porn as in filthy dirty?\n i\n\n MULLET\n\n Pawn as in","ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,\n Lincoln and Sol are left wondering what the fuck has just\n happened .\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n111 CONTINUED: (2)\n\n\n\n\n\n BAD BOY LINCOLN ,\n\n Grab it.\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n What?"," They\n burnt his mam.\n All real sound recedes and we drift in to music. The camera\n slowly tracks in on Micky. It's hard to read how devastated\n he is. The camera reaches Micky's face, the reflections of\n the flames can be seen in his water swollen eyes, but his\n cheeks remain dry. .\n\n82 INT. BTT CAR\n\n BTT is driving, Hands in the passenger seat and Rose Bud in\n the back. BTT's got a bleeding eye"," kill the bastard.\n\n HANDS\n\n You really think he can find him?\n\n SUSI\n\n He'll find you Moses and the burning\n bush if you pay him to.\n\n\n\n\n HANDS\n\n Ok so let's get hold of him.\n\n DOUG\n\n Firstly you gotta understand he's a\n little strange. .\n\n HANDS\n\n .He could swing from trees wearing\n ","ly?\n\n TURKISH\n\n You're not exactly Mr Current Affairs,\n are you Tommy? Mad Fist went mad,\n and the \"Gun\" shot himself.\n\n TOMMY\n\n What about Clam Hand Tony?\n\n TURKISH\n\n Got his fingers caught in the till.\n He's no good to anyone.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Why not?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n","Sol points at the man on the floor who is carrying the case.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n Let me see your hands.\n The man holds his hands up. He has got a perfect set of\n five fingers on both hands. Sol puts his head in his hands.\n Pauline and the other clerk put two bags full of coins on\n the counter. Sol picks them up and frowns, he's not happy\n with a bag full of change. He puts his gun down and starts\n to rifle through the bag. Pauline","\n counter and a security screen comes flying up at a very rapid\n rate of knots protecting all the counters. This has the\n unfortunate consequence of taking Vinny with it. Poor Vin\n is shot straight to the ceiling, all we can see is half a\n body and his desperately searching for ground legs. Needless\n to say this leaves Sol in a bit of a bewildered state. He's\n looking the wrong way at the critical moment and is left\n wondering what happened, not having seen Vince impaled on\n the ceiling. Sol extracts the enormous","\n Tony shrugs\n\n KEN\n\n He's pissed in my fuckin pocket,\n look!\n Ken shows off a wet-sided jacket and a damp set of trousers.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Do shut up Ken. That was a bit\n naughty Tony.\n Tony shrugs. Brick Top puts his hands in to his pocket and\n withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\n\n HANDS\n\n Well come on, let's have a","1 EXT. CARAVAN, PIKEY CAMPSITE\n\n Darren picks up the phone.\n\n DAREN .\n\n If you would you like to speak to\n your friends, you'll have to speak a\n little -louder.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n121 CONTINUED:\n\n We pull back to see four slumped heads in the car and blood\n staining the windscreen. Brick","\n\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\n fuckin sausages.\n\n TURKISH\n\n What were you thinking of? Why the\n fuck did you put Gorgeous George\n into a bare knuckle boxing match two\n days before he had to fight the\n Bomber?\n\n TOMMY\n\n He was half his size.\n He pantomimes a man that would reach his navel\n\n T","\n what we must believe is coke, it's open, and Charlie has it\n all over his nose. .\n\n TONY (CONT'D)\n\n You silly fucker, you can't go running\n off with other people's gear. How\n much you put up your nose?\n Charlie opens up, he fires four shots straight into Tony who\n buckles and falls to the floor. Tony seems only shaken and\n he holds his hands out to inspect them, he's bleeding.\n\n "],[" SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\n\n\n TAKES US SEAMLESSLY INTO ANOTHER SHOT AND SET UP. THIS GOES\n\n\n ON FOR THE DURATION OF THE CREDITS. CUT BACK TO:\n\n\n\n\n Franky Four Fingers opens a fancy case, presses a hidden\n catch, this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The","eye. He's satisfied.\n\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX TO: ANOTHER\n\n\n DIAMOND BEING HELD BY AN OVERWEIGHT BLACK MAN. CUT TO: MONTAG\n\n\n INVOLVING ALL THE CHARACTERS IN THE FILM. DEALING OR HAVING\n\n\n SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\n\n\n TAKES US SEAM","the window and the car\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n2 CONTINUED:\n\n Franky opens the package and he reveals a stone the size of\n a fist. He shines a torch onto it and puts a stone inspectin\n monocle to his eye. He's satisfied.\n\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX"," shattering bullet-proof glass all around them. Vinny's panic\n filled eyes attempt to follow its trajectory. Sol is unaware\n of the ricochet and before Vin has time to warn him, Sol\n fires another bullet. Now he observes the problem and waits\n for the inevitable. The bullet tears through the bag of\n coins, which then empties its contents at Vin's and Sol's\n feet. Eventually the bullet hits poor Vince in the thigh.\n Sol sinks to the floor, he has given up. Amongst the yells","\n except the two that died of course.\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,","withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\n\n HANDS\n\n Well come on, let's have a look.\n Brick Top passes the stone to Hands. All goes quiet while\n everybody focuses on the stone. Hands lifts it up to his\n eye.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)\n\n What are you playing at? -\n He drops the stone: it smashes on the ground.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)\n\n It's a zircon",",BTT\n\n What dp I do?\n\n HANDS\n\n Let me take a wild and reckless guess.\n Stick a knife in his guts and see if\n it's got a diamond in there? I'll\n hold it still and'you open it up.\n Tony looks positively unsure and rocks his head from side to\n side.\n\n BTT\n\n Fuckin hell, alright then.\n\n VINNY\n\n You can't do that","'s\n got a sharp side and a blunt side.\n You want a lesson?\n There is a sudden bang on the windshield and BTT turns back\n to the front only to see the windshield covered in milk.\n Tony can't see where he is going and searches for the\n windshield wipers. While this is happening the car swerves\n to the side and hits a lamp post. They crash and the boot\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\n himself out","diamond\n dealer. He catches a coin.\n\n HANDS\n\n Twenty carats?\n\n5 INT. HEATHROW AIRPORT -- DAY\n\n Franky's on the phone.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Best stone I've seen in years.\n\n HANDS\n\n Good man Franky, you done a good\n job. What time you back?\n\n FRANK Y FOUR FINGERS\n\n I gotta move the smaller stones here;","ED:\n\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is positively out\n cold. We crashtrack into various characters' reactions:\n Brick Top, Turkish and Tommy etc. All are in shock. The\n ref (who is obviously paid off as well) tries to resuscitate\n Harris/ but it's not happening, he catches a look of\n desperation from one of the villains and is eventually left\n with little choice but to hold Micky's hand","have the ten grand\n now give me the stone.\n The pause continues. Boris lets a shot off that tears\n worryingly close to Sol's head.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n42 CONTINUED: (2.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n The only man that knows the\n combination you just shot.\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\n foot machete that he was concealing","\n there wasn't much but, here's ten\n large to help the situation.\n\n VINNY\n\n I am afraid it's too late for that\n Boris. -\n He holds up the diamond. Boris1 eyes follow him as he walks\n back into the room where Franky is and puts the diamond back\n into the case while he's talking and changes the combination.\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n We want half and that's because we\n are being generous. We could","black guys are stunned into silence.\n\n BORIS\n\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\n who I am. Now open the case and\n give me.the stone.\n The black guys are left with their mouths open, everything\n just changed gear and they weren't expecting that.\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n Who's next? You have the ten grand\n now give me the stone.\n The pause continues. Boris lets a shot off that tears\n worryingly close to"," condition.\n\n78 INT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n The music continues, and we have a montage of the black guys\n dealing with Bullet Tooth Tony and Hands as they arrive at\n the pawn shop. We see the corpse, we see Hands get irate\n and it looks like it's going to be the end of the black fellas\n again. The black guys try to whip out the big gun but Tony\n disarms them and takes the gun off them. The music ends\n along with the scene when Sol","'t sure about this either. Vin is in a panic and\n suddenly.\n\n VINNY\n\n Stop! I can see it. I can see the\n stone.\n Hands at the point of entry stops. Vinny hops over to the\n stone and picks it up. Tony lets the dog stand but keeps a\n grip oh the collar. The dog is relieved to be semi-liberated.\n Hands is still on his knees armed with an incredulous stare.\n\n HANDS\n\n Well let's see","The\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\n\n ,, · '\n\n wrong way.\n\n TYRONE\n\n What the fuck are you two doing?\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four F","He puts his foot down and Mullet loses his footing, and is\n dragged along. '.\n\n HANDS\n\n What about?\n He points to Mullet. BTT pulls an, 'oh yes I forgot about\n him1 face. He doesn't even look at Mullet. He lowers the\n window, and Mullet falls by the way, in god knows what\n condition.\n\n78 INT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n The music continues, and we have a montage of the black","\n counter and a security screen comes flying up at a very rapid\n rate of knots protecting all the counters. This has the\n unfortunate consequence of taking Vinny with it. Poor Vin\n is shot straight to the ceiling, all we can see is half a\n body and his desperately searching for ground legs. Needless\n to say this leaves Sol in a bit of a bewildered state. He's\n looking the wrong way at the critical moment and is left\n wondering what happened, not having seen Vince impaled on\n the ceiling. Sol extracts the enormous","other than a big click, there is silence for\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\n eyes. :\n\n\n\n\n TYRONE\n\n Whoops.\n Tyrone also looks into the case and sees the. open secret\n compartment: this also reveals the stone.\n\n TYRONE (CONT'D)\n\n Hello what have we got here?\n\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop","\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n We want half and that's because we\n are being generous. We could by\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\n black guys are stunned into silence.\n\n BORIS\n\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\n who"],["1 EXT. CARAVAN, PIKEY CAMPSITE\n\n Darren picks up the phone.\n\n DAREN .\n\n If you would you like to speak to\n your friends, you'll have to speak a\n little -louder.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n121 CONTINUED:\n\n We pull back to see four slumped heads in the car and blood\n staining the windscreen. Brick","TINUED:\n\n We pull back to see four slumped heads in the car and blood\n staining the windscreen. Brick Top calmly puts the phone\n down.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Right lets get outta here.\n Brick Top is looking every which way and trying to get out\n of there, accompanied by Ken.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT.'D)\n\n Where's the car Ken?\n\n\n\n\n KEN\n\n I t ' s coming","a lamp post. They crash and the boot\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\n himself out. Rose Bud looks down at the sword he has been\n extracting he can see he very nearly cut himself in two.\n Tony pulls himself up from the steering wheel he has a trickle\n of blood running down his face. There's a crash and a car\n hits em from behind.\n\n96 INT. TYRONE'S CAR --NIGHT\n\n\n\n\n They too are recovering from","Tyrone spins in his seat and answers a little too loudly.\n\n TYRONE\n\n I am fuckin deaf! What have you\n done to my car?\n They crash into the car in front. Boris the Blade comes\n flying through the windshield.\n\n95 INT. BTT CAR -- NIGHT\n\n (This scene runs concurrently with scene 91)\n\n HNS\n\n\n AD- .......\n\n How we going to get rid of"," They\n burnt his mam.\n All real sound recedes and we drift in to music. The camera\n slowly tracks in on Micky. It's hard to read how devastated\n he is. The camera reaches Micky's face, the reflections of\n the flames can be seen in his water swollen eyes, but his\n cheeks remain dry. .\n\n82 INT. BTT CAR\n\n BTT is driving, Hands in the passenger seat and Rose Bud in\n the back. BTT's got a bleeding eye","\n except the two that died of course.\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,","him. It's gone through him and the seat that he is\n sitting on.\n\n98 INT. BLACK GUY'S CAR\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Let's hit em now.\n\n VINNY\n\n The is a dead Russian on my lap Sol\n I am not thinking about hitting\n anybody right now.\n\n SOL\n\n Well you better start thinking Vince\n because otherwise you'll be fuckin\n lucky if you end up","The\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\n\n ,, · '\n\n wrong way.\n\n TYRONE\n\n What the fuck are you two doing?\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four F","D)\n\n Where's the car Ken?\n\n\n\n\n KEN\n\n I t ' s coming now.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n We are outta here.\n They come out of a side entrance, their car pulls round the\n corner and screeches to a halt. Brick Top opens the door as\n he is about to get in, he's eyes widen to the size of saucers\n as FOUR MEN (who we recognize from the wake) are sitting in\n the place","s eyes widen to the size of saucers\n as FOUR MEN (who we recognize from the wake) are sitting in\n the place of his driver. They both have sawed-off shotguns\n and empty four barrels into the chest of Brick Top and Ken.\n The car spins away, leaving their twitching bodies on the\n dirt.\n\n :\n\n\n122 INT. BAD BOY LINCOLN'S HOUSE .\n\n\n\n\n Hands, Doug and Bullet","is standing there with six. bullet\n holes in him and bleeding all over the carpet. As he talks\n blood courses its way down his front and a strong lisp is\n frustrating the words.\n\n TONY\n\n Ohh you'f in twouble nowf.\n\n\n\n Tony slowly extracts a short sword from behind him. Fear\n has set into Charlie's face and has rendered him useless.\n\n\n\n\n FADE IN:\n\n\n48 INT. VANTAGE ·\n\n The car","behind.\n\n96 INT. TYRONE'S CAR --NIGHT\n\n\n\n\n They too are recovering from the accident. And Boris has\n now come headfirst through the windshield.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n96 CONTINUED: -\n\n\n\n\n\n VINNY\n\n You idiot what have you done?\n\n SOL\n\n Is that Boris?\n\n\n\n\n","'s\n got a sharp side and a blunt side.\n You want a lesson?\n There is a sudden bang on the windshield and BTT turns back\n to the front only to see the windshield covered in milk.\n Tony can't see where he is going and searches for the\n windshield wipers. While this is happening the car swerves\n to the side and hits a lamp post. They crash and the boot\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\n himself out","\n Btt turns to Hands.\n\n BTT\n\n Give us your wallet Hands.\n Hands makes eyes and digs into his back pocket and produces\n his wallet. BTT takes out some notes and proffers them to\n Mullet, Mullet nervously reaches forward. As quick as you\n like Btt has Mullet by the collar and pulls Mullet into the\n car. He then raises the electric window on Mullet's throat\n until it has fastened Mullet to the roof of the vehicle.\n\n\n\n\n","He puts his foot down and Mullet loses his footing, and is\n dragged along. '.\n\n HANDS\n\n What about?\n He points to Mullet. BTT pulls an, 'oh yes I forgot about\n him1 face. He doesn't even look at Mullet. He lowers the\n window, and Mullet falls by the way, in god knows what\n condition.\n\n78 INT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n The music continues, and we have a montage of the black","\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\n to take the case off him but i t ' s handcuffed to his wrist.\n So he has little choice but to pick him up and throw him in\n to the back of the car with the other two.\n\n\n\n\n40 INT. PAWN BROKERS -- DAY\n\n We cut to the black guys trying to open the case. They have\n Franky's hand up on a desk and are fiddling with the handcuff,","AR\n\n BTT is driving, Hands in the passenger seat and Rose Bud in\n the back. BTT's got a bleeding eye and his hand is wrapped\n up in a bandage. Rose Bud is clutching his stomach.\n\n HANDS\n\n Sneaky was a bit of a fuckin\n understatement wasn't it?\n\n BTT\n\n What do you want me to do? Your man\n there thought he could take him. I\n told you he was dangerous.\n\n HANDS\n\n"," (3.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n Tyrone get us outta here.\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\n to his wrist.\n\n SOL (CONT'D)\n\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\n\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\n\n\n\n\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree","here to show your\n fuckin car off. ··.\n The machine starts. They do the windows up and that point\n the dog lets out a fart. The water starts to hit the\n windshield so they can't undo the windows. There is more an\n atmosphere of disbelief than of concrete anger.\n\n16 EXT. CARAVAN CAMP SITE\n\n\n\n\n Gorgeous George fastens the caravan to the back of their\n Land Rover and pulls away. They wave at Micky and he","but was a good dog.\n\n HANDS\n\n Are you sure he's not here?\n\n MICKY\n\n I think I would have noticed if a\n fuckin dog was sitting in my caravan\n don't you? Tommy, Turkish, have you\n seen a dog sitting in me caravan?\n\n TURKISH\n\n I can't say I have Micky.\n\n MICKY\n\n See there you have it.\n\n "],["for the fights\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n How am I supposed to run this thing\n from that? We gonna need a proper\n office.\n He looks at the caravan again and sighs, it is quite pitiful\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n I want a new one Tommy and you 're\n going to buy it for me.\n\n TOMMY\n\n What's wrong with this one?\n Turning back to Tommy and ascending the steps in to his \"","and is off.\n\n67 INT. CAR\n\n Turkish is getting into his car. . ..\n\n TOMMY\n\n You're are as mad as mars you are,\n why did you take that bet? What\n happens now?\n\n TURKISH\n\n We buy him a caravan Tommy.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n There is something very wrong with\n this, it was us that wanted to buy a\n caravan off him.","MY\n\n There is something very wrong with\n this, it was us that wanted to buy a\n caravan off him.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Why didn't you \"bus a cap in his\n ass\" then Tommy? Mind you, you would\n do more damage if you threw it at\n him.\n\n TOMMY\n\n You saying I can't shoot?\n\n TURKISH\n\n Oh no Tommy I wasn't saying you can't\n","buying a caravan.\n\n GORGEOUS GEORGE\n\n Off a pack of fucking pikies? What's\n wrong with you? This'll get messy.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Not if you're here.\n\n GORGE OUS GEORGE\n\n Oh fuck off Tommy you never said\n anything about pikies.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Calm down, we are buying and then we\n are off.\n\n GORGEOUS","\n TURKISH\n\n That's right, you're buying a caravan,\n caravans live in campsites.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTINUED: (2).\n\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n They aren't pikey are they?\n\n TURKISH\n\n I don't know what they are, all I\n know is they have a caravan, and we\n want a Caravan.\n\n","you going to pay us?\n\n TOMMY\n\n Ten k.\n\n MICKY\n\n I lose more than that running for\n the bus. I ' l l do it for a caravan.\n\n TURKISH\n\n A what?\n\n MICKY\n\n No a caravan.\n\n TOMMY\n\n A what?\n\n M ICKY\n\n You are sitting in one if that makes\n things easier. I want","I don't know what they are, all I\n know is they have a caravan, and we\n want a Caravan.\n\n TOMMY\n\n I hope they're not pikies. I hate\n fucking pikies.\n\n TURKISH\n\n You're a sensitive boy, ain't you\n Tommy? You got ten grand and I want\n to see change.\nHe is distracted by the bulge in Tommy's trouser front.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D","\n\n Well they aren't fuckin here now are\n they? And I can't see a dog can\n you?\n\n VINNY\n\n They can't be far.\n\n125 INT. CAR\n\n Hands, BTT and the black guys are back on the road.\n\n HANDS\n\n You gonna have to come up with\n something.\n Just then they see some caravans in the distance.\n\n VINNY\n\n ","14 CONTINUED:\n\n\n GORGEOUS GEORGE\n\n I t ' s a camp site. It's a pikey\n campsite.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Ten points.\n\n GORGEOUS GEORGE\n\n What are we doing here?\n\n TOMMY\n\n We are buying a caravan.\n\n GORGEOUS GEORGE\n\n Off a pack of fucking pikies? What'","up with\n something.\n Just then they see some caravans in the distance.\n\n VINNY\n\n There they are.\n\n126 INT. NEW CARAVAN CAMP SITE\n\n All the caravans are fastened to the back of cars. Vinny,\n Sol, BTT and Hands are standing in front of Micky.\n\n MICKY\n\n Well he's didn't come back to us.\n\n VINNY\n\n But he always came back","tip top, it's\n just I am not sure about the colour.\n He passes him a piece of paper\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Here it's all arranged. You just\n gotta pick it up. Here's an address.\n Tommy looks at the address and frowns.\n\n TOMMY\n\n I t ' s that campsite.\n\n TURKISH\n\n That's right, you're buying a caravan,\n caravans live in campsites","the Rolls Royce of caravans.\n\n TURKISH\n\n That's not the same caravan.\n\n MICKY\n\n This isn't the same fight.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n 60.\n\n\n\n\n\n52 CONTINUED: _ -\n\n\n TURKISH\n\n I t ' s twice the fuckin size of the\n","betting on with various dodgy characters.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Well do you want to do it?\n\n MICKY\n\n That depends.\n\n TURKISH\n\n On what?\n\n MICKY\n\n On you buying this caravan.\n He pulls out a catalogue on fancy caravans and points to the\n picture of the Rolls Royce of caravans.\n\n TURKISH\n\n That's not the same caravan.\n","next to him.\n\n\n\n\n17 INT. CAR -- DAY\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I don't know what all your fuss was\n about. They aren't bad fellas.\n Just then the wheels of the caravan come straight off and\n the caravan is dragged until the car comes to a sudden stop.\n The dog jumps out the window and goes bounding back to the\n campsite.\n\n18 EXT. CARAVAN -- DAY\n\n\n\n\n They are looking","here to show your\n fuckin car off. ··.\n The machine starts. They do the windows up and that point\n the dog lets out a fart. The water starts to hit the\n windshield so they can't undo the windows. There is more an\n atmosphere of disbelief than of concrete anger.\n\n16 EXT. CARAVAN CAMP SITE\n\n\n\n\n Gorgeous George fastens the caravan to the back of their\n Land Rover and pulls away. They wave at Micky and he","\n Gorgeous George fastens the caravan to the back of their\n Land Rover and pulls away. They wave at Micky and he\n reciprocates.\n\n MICKY\n\n He's a good dog. He'll get a little\n homesick for a while but he'11 get\n over it.\n Tommy has a dog that looks distressed about leaving Micky\n sitting next to him.\n\n\n\n\n17 INT. CAR -- DAY\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I don","MICKY\n\n Why the fuck do I want a caravan\n that's got no fuckin wheels? I am\n not going to do that.\n\n\n\n Gorgeous George steps forward.\n\n MICKY (CONT'D)\n\n Where the fuck do you think you're\n going? You want to settle this with\n a fight?\n\n MUM\n\n You'll do no such thing Michael.\n You'll...\n\n MICKY\n\n"," TOMMY\n\n What's wrong with this one?\n Turning back to Tommy and ascending the steps in to his \"I\n have seen better days\" caravan, TURKISH'S foot goes through\n one of the stairs and the.door comes off at the hinges as he\n tries to open it.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Oh nothing Tommy, it's tip top, it's\n just I am not sure about the colour.\n He passes him a piece of paper\n\n TUR","for free.\n Turkish considers this, uneasily. He looks at the dogs they\n look keen and fit.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Okay, I reckon the hare gets caught.\n But he's in. Gypsy Romany Music starts. Cut to slow motion,\n CU of dogs' enthusiasm, CU of pikeys and their fingers\n skillfully dealing in money, inhaling cigarettes, etc.\n\n53 INT. CAR --\n\n Slow motion. Errol and John are looking for","\n\n Save your breath for cooling your\n porridge. I'll bet you for it.\n\n TURKISH\n\n What like Tommy did last time? Do\n me a favour?\n\n MICKY\n\n I ' l l do you a favour, you have first ,\n bet. If I win I get the caravan, if\n I lose I'l l do the fight for free.\n Turkish considers this, uneasily. He looks at the dogs they\n look keen and fit.\n\n T"],["and falls to the floor. Tony seems only shaken and\n he holds his hands out to inspect them, he's bleeding.\n\n TONY (CONT'D)\n\n Oh you silly cunt.\n Tony stands and walks towards Charlie. Charlie is\n understandably shocked and fires another. It goes straight\n through Tony and we see the blood hit the wall behind.\n\n CHARLIE\n\n Go down-boy, go down.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n","\n Go down-boy, go down.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n47 CONTINUED:\n\n Tony keeps going for him. Charlie raises the gun and points\n it at Tony's face and fires the last shot. The bullet goes\n straight into his mouth but it went in at an angle and it\n exits his cheek. Tony is standing there with six. bullet\n holes in him and bleeding all over the carpet. As he talks\n blood courses its way down his front and","\n what we must believe is coke, it's open, and Charlie has it\n all over his nose. .\n\n TONY (CONT'D)\n\n You silly fucker, you can't go running\n off with other people's gear. How\n much you put up your nose?\n Charlie opens up, he fires four shots straight into Tony who\n buckles and falls to the floor. Tony seems only shaken and\n he holds his hands out to inspect them, he's bleeding.\n\n ","\n except the two that died of course.\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,","is standing there with six. bullet\n holes in him and bleeding all over the carpet. As he talks\n blood courses its way down his front and a strong lisp is\n frustrating the words.\n\n TONY\n\n Ohh you'f in twouble nowf.\n\n\n\n Tony slowly extracts a short sword from behind him. Fear\n has set into Charlie's face and has rendered him useless.\n\n\n\n\n FADE IN:\n\n\n48 INT. VANTAGE ·\n\n The car","'s\n got a sharp side and a blunt side.\n You want a lesson?\n There is a sudden bang on the windshield and BTT turns back\n to the front only to see the windshield covered in milk.\n Tony can't see where he is going and searches for the\n windshield wipers. While this is happening the car swerves\n to the side and hits a lamp post. They crash and the boot\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\n himself out"," condition.\n\n78 INT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n The music continues, and we have a montage of the black guys\n dealing with Bullet Tooth Tony and Hands as they arrive at\n the pawn shop. We see the corpse, we see Hands get irate\n and it looks like it's going to be the end of the black fellas\n again. The black guys try to whip out the big gun but Tony\n disarms them and takes the gun off them. The music ends\n along with the scene when Sol","makes\n you feel any better.\n Cut to Tony having some problems trying to get hold of the\n awkward dog. The dog starts to squeak. Tony passes the\n blade to Hands.\n\n BTT\n\n I t ' s squeaking.\n\n HANDS\n\n What, you've never heard a dog squeak\n before?... Hold him still.\n The dog isn't sure about this either. Vin is in a panic and\n suddenly.\n\n VINNY\n\n Stop! I can","much trouble\n you' d be in.\n\n CHARLIE\n\n You come through that door and you'll\n be going out prostrate.\n\n TONY\n\n It doesn't belong to you Charlie.\n He kicks open the door. CHARLIE is standing behind his desk\n holding a pistol directly at Tony. On the table is a bag of\n what we must believe is coke, it's open, and Charlie has it\n all over his nose. .\n\n ","S\n\n He's a sneaky fucker that Russian.\n Well shall we go?\n\n BTT ·\n\n What you want to do about the Russian?\n\n HANDS\n\n I want to bury him.\n\n EXT. BORIS1 HOUSE\n\n\n93\n\n\n\n\n Hands, Tony and Rosebud walk out.\n\n94 INT. TYRONE'S CAR\n\n\n\n\n The black guys witness this. Tyrone's now in the","a lamp post. They crash and the boot\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\n himself out. Rose Bud looks down at the sword he has been\n extracting he can see he very nearly cut himself in two.\n Tony pulls himself up from the steering wheel he has a trickle\n of blood running down his face. There's a crash and a car\n hits em from behind.\n\n96 INT. TYRONE'S CAR --NIGHT\n\n\n\n\n They too are recovering from","'D)\n\n Chop chop.\n\n\n\n The barman walks down the end of a bar and picks up the phone.\n\n HANDS\n\n What was it you did exactly Tony?\n\n BTT\n\n I had a little run in with a few of\n the chaps.\n\n HANDS\n\n How ' s that ?\n\n BTT\n\n They're all brainless, they got white\n powdered angels sitting on their\n shoulders telling them what was","TINUED:\n\n We pull back to see four slumped heads in the car and blood\n staining the windscreen. Brick Top calmly puts the phone\n down.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Right lets get outta here.\n Brick Top is looking every which way and trying to get out\n of there, accompanied by Ken.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT.'D)\n\n Where's the car Ken?\n\n\n\n\n KEN\n\n I t ' s coming","and end up in a corridor. The door .shuts behind\n them and the door in front hasn't yet opened. Ken turns\n around and faces Tony.\n\n KEN (CONT'D)\n\n Did you know that it was my cousin\n Lorrie you stabbed?\n There is a pause. The situation is volatile.\n\n BTT\n\n Yes I know I stabbed a man called\n Lorrie, but no I didn't know he was\n related to a tub a shit.\n Ken"," HANDS\n\n I mean open him up..\n Tony is not sure about this.\n\n BTT\n\n I t ' s not a fuckin tin of baked beans,\n what do you mean open him up?\n\n HANDS\n\n I mean open him up.\n Hands does a movement that represents a knife across the\n throat.\n\n BTT\n\n That's a bit strong isn't it?\n\n HANDS\n\n You wouldn't have a","him.\n\n BTT\n\n That's the spirit. There's a sword\n back there.\n He points to behind a seat: there is a bloody great sword\n concealed. Tony skillfully passes the sword to Rose Budd,\n who attempts to pull it out of its scabbard. Tony turns\n round to Hands.\n\n BTT (CONT'D)\n\n You, you want a knife?\n He passes Hands a knife.\n\n HANDS\n\n I wouldn'","The\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\n\n ,, · '\n\n wrong way.\n\n TYRONE\n\n What the fuck are you two doing?\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\n open. Franky Four F","\n\n\n\n Vinny cocks his gun. There is a pause and eventually Tony\n lets go of it.\n\n BTT\n\n I am talking for your benefit. Now\n dicks have drive, and clarity of\n vision.\n Tony starts to build himself a complicated looking weapon\n under the table, unseen by the black guys. He takes bits\n out of one sock and bits out of another sock.\n\n BTT (CONT'D)\n\n But they're not clever, they smell\n ","\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n We want half and that's because we\n are being generous. We could by\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\n black guys are stunned into silence.\n\n BORIS\n\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\n who","DOUG\n\n No it's true. I can't find'him, but\n I know a man that can.\n Cut to a shot of Hands encouraging him to continue.\n\n DOUG (CONT'D)\n\n Tony. Bullet Tooth Tony. He'll\n find Franky for you.\n\n HANDS\n\n Who's he?\n Susi interrupts.\n\n SUSI\n\n ·What is he?' Would be a more\n appropriate"],["plicas,\n what do you know about replicas?\n Sol looks at the gun and frowns, \"what does he know about\n replicas\"? He pulls the trigger. He fires one shot. It is\n very loud, the gun goes off near Tyrone's ear, he buckles in\n . pain. The car does a massive swerve and everything nearly\n ends in disaster, all the windows shatter including the\n windshield (but the glass stays put). Tyrone regains some\n control over the car.\n\n ","in your\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\n your trousers?\n\n TOMMY\n\n It's for protection.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Protection from what, the Germans?\n The war ended fifty years ago. Err\n what's to stop it blowing your balls\n off every time you sit down? Where\n did you get it?\nLooking down onto his gun.\n\n TOMMY\n\n Boris the Blade.\n\n TURKISH\n\n ","'t want to go in there, he's a\n dangerous bastard, taken too many\n disco biscuits in the heat of Russian\n disputations, he's got as many of\n these nuts as those nuts.\n\n\n\n He grabs his groin and circles his finger and his temple\n\n TOMMY\n\n I don't care if he's got fuckin hazel\n nuts, I want a gun that works.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Well come on then before","see change.\nHe is distracted by the bulge in Tommy's trouser front.\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Fuck me, hold tight, what's that?\n\n TOMMY\n\n It's my Gucci belt, Turkish.\nPointing quite clearly at the gun.\n\n TURKISH\n\n No Tommy, there's a gun in your\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\n your trousers?\n\n TOMMY\n\n It","\n\n\n C UT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\n\n\n\n\n We are in the back room of an amusement arcade and can hear\n fruit machines beeping in the distance. Meet BORIS THE BLADE\n and TOMMY who is toying with a heavy-looking revolver.\n\n TOMMY\n\n It's a bit heavy isn't it Boris?\n\n BORIS\n\n Heavy is good. Heavy is reliable.\n If it doesn't work you can","TYRONE\n\n They look fucked up.\n\n SOL . \" *\n\n Well get in and let's load up.\n Vin whips out a gun.\n\n VINNY *\n\n Load them up with what? *\n\n TYRONE *\n\n What's wrong with them?\n\n VINNY\n\n . They're replicas.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (","in hazel\n nuts, I want a gun that works.\n\n TURKISH\n\n Well come on then before the Germans\n get here.\n\n105 EXT. CAFE . .\n\n The black guys have followed BTT and Hands and are waiting\n outside, readying themselves for action. .\n\n SOL ' .\n\n . Now Tyrone you go... Tyrone, oi\n Tyrone.\n Tyrone can't"," shattering bullet-proof glass all around them. Vinny's panic\n filled eyes attempt to follow its trajectory. Sol is unaware\n of the ricochet and before Vin has time to warn him, Sol\n fires another bullet. Now he observes the problem and waits\n for the inevitable. The bullet tears through the bag of\n coins, which then empties its contents at Vin's and Sol's\n feet. Eventually the bullet hits poor Vince in the thigh.\n Sol sinks to the floor, he has given up. Amongst the yells","face. Go on\n try it.\n Tommy sticks the gun out the window and pulls the trigger.\n Nothing happens.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINU ED)\n\n\n\n\n\n67 CONTINUED: .\n\n\n\n\n\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\n\n Whoops.\n\n\n\n\n TOMMY\n\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\n Russian.\n\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BRO","\n Tony shrugs\n\n KEN\n\n He's pissed in my fuckin pocket,\n look!\n Ken shows off a wet-sided jacket and a damp set of trousers.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n Do shut up Ken. That was a bit\n naughty Tony.\n Tony shrugs. Brick Top puts his hands in to his pocket and\n withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\n\n HANDS\n\n Well come on, let's have a","Micky. Otherwise we are\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\n Micky goes out again his hands are low, BANG there is a flash\n of white as Micky goes down in the dirt. Dust rises from\n where he fell. He gets up quickly, his hands are still low,\n BANG he goes down again, in no time he's up.\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n120 CONT","\n\n We see Turkish with a somewhat serious expression on his\n face he has his customary pint of milk on one side, he takes\n a sip and \"ohhhs\" and \"arrrs\" for a while.\n\n .TURKISH\n\n So you're telling me he would have\n run you through if Gorgeous hadn't\n woken up?\n\n TOMMY\n\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\n fuck","- as Tyrone parks the van )\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\n\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\n\n\n WE FADE UP\n"," (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n94 CONTINUED: -<2)\n\n\n\n\n\n VINNY\n\n Well just how fuckin loud did you\n think it was going to be? It's a-\n fucking gun Sol, guns are renowned\n for making a loud fucking noise\n whenever you pull the trigger.\n\n SOL\n\n You wanted to see if they worked.\n\n VINNY\n\n I didn't","in a pincer movement.\n\n59 INT. BOOT OF A CAR\n\n\n\n\n Poor Tyrone is bleeding in the boot of a car.\n\n60 EXT. FIELD\n\n\n\n\n The dogs move in.\n\n61 EXT. CAR\n\n\n\n\n They bail Tyrone out of the car and into Brick Top's pub.\n Brick Top is waiting there. Brick Top asks questions. We\n can't hear what he's asking, but we can see that T","\n counter and a security screen comes flying up at a very rapid\n rate of knots protecting all the counters. This has the\n unfortunate consequence of taking Vinny with it. Poor Vin\n is shot straight to the ceiling, all we can see is half a\n body and his desperately searching for ground legs. Needless\n to say this leaves Sol in a bit of a bewildered state. He's\n looking the wrong way at the critical moment and is left\n wondering what happened, not having seen Vince impaled on\n the ceiling. Sol extracts the enormous","\n\n\n We see Tyrone grimace at the sound of the shotgun.\n\n34 INT. BOOKIES -- DAY\n\n\n\n\n Sol pulls himself together and marches up to the hole in the\n wall that the shot created and pokes the gun through.\n\n SOL\n\n Drop the screen now! You just seen\n what it did to this wall so think\n what it could do to you.\n Pauline knows she has lost this one and looks genuinely\n scared.\n\n PAULINE"," They\n burnt his mam.\n All real sound recedes and we drift in to music. The camera\n slowly tracks in on Micky. It's hard to read how devastated\n he is. The camera reaches Micky's face, the reflections of\n the flames can be seen in his water swollen eyes, but his\n cheeks remain dry. .\n\n82 INT. BTT CAR\n\n BTT is driving, Hands in the passenger seat and Rose Bud in\n the back. BTT's got a bleeding eye","\n\n VINNY\n\n . They're replicas.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n89 CONTINUED:\n\n\n\n\n\n TYRONE\n\n Hold tight rudy, are you fuckin mad?\n Do you know who these people are?\n\n SOL\n\n No I don't Tyrone, but I do know I\n don't want to be eaten by pulled\n","\n except the two that died of course.\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,"],[" SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\n\n\n TAKES US SEAMLESSLY INTO ANOTHER SHOT AND SET UP. THIS GOES\n\n\n ON FOR THE DURATION OF THE CREDITS. CUT BACK TO:\n\n\n\n\n Franky Four Fingers opens a fancy case, presses a hidden\n catch, this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The","the window and the car\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n2 CONTINUED:\n\n Franky opens the package and he reveals a stone the size of\n a fist. He shines a torch onto it and puts a stone inspectin\n monocle to his eye. He's satisfied.\n\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX","diamond\n dealer. He catches a coin.\n\n HANDS\n\n Twenty carats?\n\n5 INT. HEATHROW AIRPORT -- DAY\n\n Franky's on the phone.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Best stone I've seen in years.\n\n HANDS\n\n Good man Franky, you done a good\n job. What time you back?\n\n FRANK Y FOUR FINGERS\n\n I gotta move the smaller stones here;","\n there wasn't much but, here's ten\n large to help the situation.\n\n VINNY\n\n I am afraid it's too late for that\n Boris. -\n He holds up the diamond. Boris1 eyes follow him as he walks\n back into the room where Franky is and puts the diamond back\n into the case while he's talking and changes the combination.\n\n VINNY (CONT'D)\n\n We want half and that's because we\n are being generous. We could","eye. He's satisfied.\n\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX TO: ANOTHER\n\n\n DIAMOND BEING HELD BY AN OVERWEIGHT BLACK MAN. CUT TO: MONTAG\n\n\n INVOLVING ALL THE CHARACTERS IN THE FILM. DEALING OR HAVING\n\n\n SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\n\n\n TAKES US SEAM","have the ten grand\n now give me the stone.\n The pause continues. Boris lets a shot off that tears\n worryingly close to Sol's head.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n (CONTINUED)\n\n\n\n\n\n42 CONTINUED: (2.)\n\n\n\n\n\n SOL\n\n The only man that knows the\n combination you just shot.\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\n foot machete that he was concealing","withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\n\n HANDS\n\n Well come on, let's have a look.\n Brick Top passes the stone to Hands. All goes quiet while\n everybody focuses on the stone. Hands lifts it up to his\n eye.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)\n\n What are you playing at? -\n He drops the stone: it smashes on the ground.\n\n HANDS (CONT'D)\n\n It's a zircon","S OFFICE -- DAY\n\n Doug the Head and Franky Four Fingers are doing a deal.\n Doug has a case open and is admiring a couple of stones.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n From Russia with love. You\n interested? .\n\n DOUG\n\n I told you I was interested.\n Pause. Franky's in a rush.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n I got stones to sell, fat to che",",BTT\n\n What dp I do?\n\n HANDS\n\n Let me take a wild and reckless guess.\n Stick a knife in his guts and see if\n it's got a diamond in there? I'll\n hold it still and'you open it up.\n Tony looks positively unsure and rocks his head from side to\n side.\n\n BTT\n\n Fuckin hell, alright then.\n\n VINNY\n\n You can't do that","So please can we get on with it?\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n","black guys are stunned into silence.\n\n BORIS\n\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\n who I am. Now open the case and\n give me.the stone.\n The black guys are left with their mouths open, everything\n just changed gear and they weren't expecting that.\n\n BORIS (CONT'D)\n\n Who's next? You have the ten grand\n now give me the stone.\n The pause continues. Boris lets a shot off that tears\n worryingly close to"," Top's office.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n I gotta say you have got some front\n coming round here Tone, you know the\n lads are picking straws. . .\n Interrupted\n\n BTT\n\n You gotta diamond and it doesn't\n belong to you, it belongs to my\n colleague here.\n\n BRICK TOP\n\n That's what I love about you Tone,\n no small talk.\n\n BTT\n\n"," job. What time you back?\n\n FRANK Y FOUR FINGERS\n\n I gotta move the smaller stones here;\n it shouldn't take me long. I ' l l be\n a couple of days.\n\n HANDS\n\n Speak to my cousin Doug.\n\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Doug the Head?\n\n HANDS\n\n Yeah, Doug the Head. But get some\n security. I mean it, get it today,\n speak to those Russians"," BORIS\n\n I ' l l toss the coin.\n He tosses the coin\n\n CUT TO: CU OF SPINNING COIN\n\n\n\n\n\n4 INT. NEW YORK_OFFICE -- DAY\n\n\n\n\n\n CUT TO :CU OF SPINNING COIN\n\n Meet HANDS. On the phone. Cool young street wise NY diamond\n dealer. He catches a coin.\n\n HANDS\n\n Twenty carats?\n\n5 INT. HE","other than a big click, there is silence for\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\n eyes. :\n\n\n\n\n TYRONE\n\n Whoops.\n Tyrone also looks into the case and sees the. open secret\n compartment: this also reveals the stone.\n\n TYRONE (CONT'D)\n\n Hello what have we got here?\n\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\n\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop","DAY\n\n\n\n\n Meet SOL, who's behind the counter, Vinny's partner in the\n pawn shop. He's concentrating on the deal at hand with BAD\n BOY LINCOLN and has a stone-inspecting monocle to his eye.\n\n VINNY\n\n Alright Sol, Lincoln.\n They are in deep discussion and only Lincoln responds.\n\n B AD BOY LINCOLN\n\n Vin.\n\n SOL\n\n It","\n\n It was a rhetorical question Errol,\n what have I told you about thinking?\n He turns back to the brothers.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n You got forty eight hours.\n He looks at Lincoln.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n I am going to take your man here.\n Pointing to Tyrone.\n\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\n\n You can keep this silly wanker.\n\n ","this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\n\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\n\n If you need a man in London then\n call this number.\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\n\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\n\n Boris?\n\n RUSSIAN\n","of times - nothing happens, but on\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\n\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\n\n\n\n\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\n to take the case off him but i t ' s","to admire balls that I\n want to chop off.\n\n SOL\n\n What choice did we have?\n\n VINNY\n\n I know sorry doesn't mean fuck all,\n but we are game on, what do you want\n us to do?\n\n ·HANDS\n\n Get us that stone back.\n\n BTT\n\n So Brick Top has now got the stone?\n\n VINNY\n\n He's got"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"79 INT. DOUG'S OFFICE\\n\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Russians, I didn't think it would be\\n the Russians.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n Boris the Blade? I heard of him,\\n isn't he supposed to be a short little\\n fucker that's covered in scars?\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n Sneaky little shit one of the Russian\\n dissidents, killed more men\\n than,...well he's-killed a lot of\\n men. Deals\",\n \"'s\\n got a sharp side and a blunt side.\\n You want a lesson?\\n There is a sudden bang on the windshield and BTT turns back\\n to the front only to see the windshield covered in milk.\\n Tony can't see where he is going and searches for the\\n windshield wipers. While this is happening the car swerves\\n to the side and hits a lamp post. They crash and the boot\\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\\n himself out\",\n \"this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n If you need a man in London then\\n call this number.\\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\",\n \"of the Russian\\n dissidents, killed more men\\n than,...well he's-killed a lot of\\n men. Deals in arms, that he gets\\n off some of the old school.\\n We cut to the security monitor that observes the shop, it\\n sits on Doug's desk. The door opens and in walks Boris. As\\n bold as brass he walks up to the counter.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n Hold on. What's going on here?\\n Doug picks up the phone to the downstairs shop. Sus\",\n \"s car pulls up outside Boris1 house. BTT and Rosebud\\n pull Boris up in the boot. Tyrone who is hanging about nearb\\n keeping watch, witnesses this. Rosebud places a blade at\\n the Russian's neck.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n 77.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n84 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n ROSE BUD\\n\\n I think you have got something to\\n tell us\",\n \"\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body,\\n but if I see you again...well look\\n at him.\\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\\n you like.\\n\\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\\n\\n\",\n \"a lamp post. They crash and the boot\\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\\n himself out. Rose Bud looks down at the sword he has been\\n extracting he can see he very nearly cut himself in two.\\n Tony pulls himself up from the steering wheel he has a trickle\\n of blood running down his face. There's a crash and a car\\n hits em from behind.\\n\\n96 INT. TYRONE'S CAR --NIGHT\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n They too are recovering from\",\n \"name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Boris, Boris can get you anything\\n you need.\\n\\n CUT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n :\\n\\n\\n3 INT. LONDON - AMUSEMENT ARCADE -- DAY\\n\\n\\n C UT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We are in the back room\",\n \"in your\\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\\n your trousers?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It's for protection.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Protection from what, the Germans?\\n The war ended fifty years ago. Err\\n what's to stop it blowing your balls\\n off every time you sit down? Where\\n did you get it?\\nLooking down onto his gun.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Boris the Blade.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n \",\n \"it Boris?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Heavy is good. Heavy is reliable.\\n If it doesn't work you can hit him\\n with it.\\n Tommy practices a couple of gun slinging maneuvers. He's\\n impressed. At that moment the door opens and in walks a MAN\\n carrying two heavy sacks of coins. He's a rough looking\\n bastard, he's massive, and extremely ugly. Meet GORGEOUS\\n\\n GEORGE.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \" combination you just shot.\\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\\n foot machete that he was concealing about his person. He\\n pulls the case towards him and brings the machete down with\\n full force. We can tell by the expression on Tyrone's face\\n that it must have been some part of Franky's anatomy.\\n Pointing to the ground:\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body\",\n \"black guys are stunned into silence.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\\n who I am. Now open the case and\\n give me.the stone.\\n The black guys are left with their mouths open, everything\\n just changed gear and they weren't expecting that.\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n Who's next? You have the ten grand\\n now give me the stone.\\n The pause continues. Boris lets a shot off that tears\\n worryingly close to\",\n \"\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I want you to do something for me .\\n Franky nods for him to go on .\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky:\",\n \"without being heard.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n What are you doing with him?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n The case was attached to his body.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n So why didn't you chop it off?\\n Sol looks horrified by the thought.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Err, because we didn't. Now Boris\\n we have or rather you have a problem.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n What?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \"(CONT'D)\\n\\n Jesus, where did you come from?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Uzbekistan.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Oi Sol, Boris is here.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Boris, what's up?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I have a job for you.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Go on.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I want you to hold up a bookies.\\n\\n S\",\n \"down onto his gun.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Boris the Blade.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You mean Boris the sneaky fucking\\n Russian.\\nTurkish pulls the gun out of Tommy's front.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n8 CONTINUED: (3)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n I t ' s a bit heavy isn't it?\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"Tyrone spins in his seat and answers a little too loudly.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n I am fuckin deaf! What have you\\n done to my car?\\n They crash into the car in front. Boris the Blade comes\\n flying through the windshield.\\n\\n95 INT. BTT CAR -- NIGHT\\n\\n (This scene runs concurrently with scene 91)\\n\\n HNS\\n\\n\\n AD- .......\\n\\n How we going to get rid of\",\n \" What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\\n been exposed.\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a bookies I know that will\\n take bets. If you place one down\\n for me we will call it quits.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \"IS1 HOUSE\\n\\n On the phone subtitled\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Yes he's got it. He might call, he\\n might not, but if he does be ready.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I' l l see what I can do.\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n He can't know that it's you Boris.\\n We do too much business together.\\n You're gonna have to get someone\\n else to hit him and there is no way\\n it can\",\n \"me? You've done a good job\\n Franky, don't go and fuck it up.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I hear ya Hands. I see ya Hands.\\n The phone goes down and Hands looks up at a COLLEAGUE.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n He's got it.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n6 INT. BORIS1 HOUSE\\n\\n On the phone subtitled\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Yes he's got it.\"\n ],\n [\n \"walks to the center\\n of the ring. \\\"Good night\\\" is already there, they pace one\\n another for a second or two, Micky avoids a punch or two and\\n then he takes a hard one and he knows it, we flash to white,\\n Micky's in trouble: he lets one of his missiles go and BANG\\n it shakes \\\"good night\\\" to his core, all goes quiet. We go\\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \\\"good night\\\" is\\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches\",\n \" concerned for his mum. Pause as Micky waits for her to be\\n well gone.\\n\\n MICKY (CONT'D)\\n\\n I ' l l fight you for it.\\n\\n\\n\\n Tommy looks at Gorgeous George. Gorgeous George raises his\\n eyebrows.\\n\\n20 INT. HORSE BOX, PIKEY CAMP -- DAY\\n\\n The two fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\\n swipe\",\n \"goes on for two rounds (which is montage down to a few\\n seconds). We go in the mind of poor Micky. We break the\\n music just as it's starting to look dangerous... The bell\\n goes and Micky walks to the wrong corner. Turkish pulls him\\n back to his corner.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n They are on ya. You got to hurt him\\n Micky. Otherwise we are\\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\",\n \" MICKY -\\n\\n You're not going anywhere my friend.\\n You stay until the job is done.\\n Micky starts pacing, and throwing out a couple of shadow\\n punches with his back to Gorgeous George, he still hasn't\\n really acknowledged his opponent. Gorgeous George moves in\\n for the coup de grace, Micky spins on his feet and catches\\n the big man under the jaw.\\n\\n CUT TO BLACK\\n\\n FADE IN: We see Gorgeous George lying on the floor with a\",\n \" THE REFF\\n\\n Alright lads no eye gouging no biting.\\n Do your worst. Back to your corners.\\n\\n\\n\\n We drift again into Micky's pov, his world is becoming more\\n and more surreal. He can faintly hear Turkish whispering\\n words to him, but he's not really listening. A bell comes\\n from somewhere, and Micky instinctively walks to the center\\n of the ring. \\\"Good night\\\" is already there, they pace one\\n another for a second or two, Micky\",\n \"fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\\n swipe: it was an .impressive punch, but Micky is a quick littl\\n bastard and sidesteps. Micky does nothing to retaliate; his\\n hands are still by his,side.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n20 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Gorgeous George lunges out and grabs\",\n \"Micky. Otherwise we are\\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\\n Micky goes out again his hands are low, BANG there is a flash\\n of white as Micky goes down in the dirt. Dust rises from\\n where he fell. He gets up quickly, his hands are still low,\\n BANG he goes down again, in no time he's up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n120 CONT\",\n \"sudden he starts jumping up and down like he's warming up,\\n throwing a few shadow punches, taking off his shirt. This\\n reveals a heavily tattooed and scarred torso, and underneath\\n these embellishments is a physique that warrants some respect.\\n\\n GORGEOUS GEORGE (CONT'D)\\n\\n This is sick. I am outta here.\\n\\n MICKY -\\n\\n You're not going anywhere my friend.\\n You stay until the job is done.\\n Micky\",\n \"then look at the size\\n of his fists. Hey Mum, come and\\n look at the size of this fella.\\n The kids start to feel his arms. Gorgeous George plays the\\n game and raises the kids on his biceps. Micky's MUM comes\\n out to see.\\n\\n MICKY (CONT'D)\\n\\n Would you look at the strength of\\n the man? I bet you can box a little\\n can't you sir? You look like a boxer.\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n Let's. . . . Get ready to\\n rrrrrrummmmmble.\\n The two come out to fight. Bomber Harris lifts his monster\\n hands to do damage. They pace each other for a second.\\n Then Micky lets one go. <\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n ( CONTIN UED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n37 CONTINUED:\\n\\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is posit\",\n \" What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\\n been exposed.\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a bookies I know that will\\n take bets. If you place one down\\n for me we will call it quits.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \" We are nearly there. They are a\\n horrible bunch this lot Micky so pay\\n attention to what you are doing.\\n Micky just yawns.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Put up some kind of a show, he's a\\n hard bastard this \\\"good night\\\"\\n Anderson so don't get too clever, he\\n used to be a pro. Just keep moving\\n round the ring, and let the odd one\\n go when push has come to shove.\\n\\n MICK\",\n \"? I bet you can box a little\\n can't you sir? You look like a boxer.\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n Get out of the way Micky and see if\\n the fellas would like a drink.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I could murder one.\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n There won't be any murdering done\\n around here, I don't mind telling\\n ya.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Would the big fella like a cup of\\n tea?\\n\\n M\",\n \"are open and he can't breathe, he continues\\n to fall, but he's unpanicked (he is now Micky 1). When Micky\\n 1 looks up he can see himself in the corner of the ring takin\\n kidney punches from Good Night, he's winded and only semi-\\n conscious (this is Micky 2). Micky 1 makes the effort to\\n swim up and tries to penetrate the floor but he's stuck he\\n can't get through. Micky 2 takes more punishment in the\\n ring\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n Again we cut to the reactions of the relevant parties.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Tommy get the van.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I have it, it's waiting.\\n Turkish jumps into the ring and grabs Micky.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n We are off Micky, hold tight, and\\n move quickly. ,\\n Turkish pulls Micky away. It's not as hard as it might be\\n trying to get out,\",\n \"We do too much business together.\\n You're gonna have to get someone\\n else to hit him and there is no way\\n it can relate to us. You understand?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Yes I understand.\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n One more thing, he loves to gamble.\\n\\n7 EX.T. BACK ALLEY MAKESHIFT BOXING RING -- DAY\\n\\n BRICK TOP (aka MR MCLEAN) is a heavy looking fella. He is\\n observing a\",\n \" MUM\\n\\n You'll do no such thing Michael.\\n You'll...\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Alright Mum, we shan't, we'll settle\\n it some other way, now don't get\\n upset.\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n I won't have you fighting, Micky.\\n Micky's Mum is getting upset and it's consequently upsetting\\n Micky.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Okay mum okay. You need to\",\n \"\\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \\\"good night\\\" is\\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches his\\n opponent's knees threaten to betray him. The crowd tries to\\n digest what is happening. After a period of silence reality\\n dawns. Brick Top mouths the words in silence.\\\"Don1t go down\\n you fucker\\\". The crowd wants Micky to finish the job. But\\n common sense reins back the coup de grace. \\\"Good night\\\"\\n eventually regains control of his legs and stumbles\",\n \"wanted me to\\n fuck you two off, that's why I wanted\\n you back. I' l l do the fight before\\n he causes any more carnage, but I ' l l\\n only do it if you're there.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Why?\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Because I know he fuckin hates ya. . ·\\n\\n91 INT. TURKISH'S CAR -- CONTINUOUS\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Turkish and Tommy are\",\n \"to penetrate the floor but he's stuck he\\n can't get through. Micky 2 takes more punishment in the\\n ring, as Micky 1 ' s hand continues to try to break the\\n underside of the floor but it stretches like rubber and forces\\n Micky 1 down again. Micky 1 looks up again and sees how\\n much trouble Micky 2 ' s in the ring. Micky 1 is panicking\\n now, he's running out of oxygen and Micky 2's being beaten,\\n Micky \"\n ],\n [\n \"walks to the center\\n of the ring. \\\"Good night\\\" is already there, they pace one\\n another for a second or two, Micky avoids a punch or two and\\n then he takes a hard one and he knows it, we flash to white,\\n Micky's in trouble: he lets one of his missiles go and BANG\\n it shakes \\\"good night\\\" to his core, all goes quiet. We go\\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \\\"good night\\\" is\\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches\",\n \"goes on for two rounds (which is montage down to a few\\n seconds). We go in the mind of poor Micky. We break the\\n music just as it's starting to look dangerous... The bell\\n goes and Micky walks to the wrong corner. Turkish pulls him\\n back to his corner.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n They are on ya. You got to hurt him\\n Micky. Otherwise we are\\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\",\n \" THE REFF\\n\\n Alright lads no eye gouging no biting.\\n Do your worst. Back to your corners.\\n\\n\\n\\n We drift again into Micky's pov, his world is becoming more\\n and more surreal. He can faintly hear Turkish whispering\\n words to him, but he's not really listening. A bell comes\\n from somewhere, and Micky instinctively walks to the center\\n of the ring. \\\"Good night\\\" is already there, they pace one\\n another for a second or two, Micky\",\n \"\\n\\n So Michael, you got it clear? It's\\n the fourth round. I'll tap you anyway\\n to let you know when to go down.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n36 CONTINUED: ( 2 )\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Just make sure the man doesn't kill\\n me before the fuckin fourth.\\n\\n CUT TO:BRICK TOP\",\n \" MICKY -\\n\\n You're not going anywhere my friend.\\n You stay until the job is done.\\n Micky starts pacing, and throwing out a couple of shadow\\n punches with his back to Gorgeous George, he still hasn't\\n really acknowledged his opponent. Gorgeous George moves in\\n for the coup de grace, Micky spins on his feet and catches\\n the big man under the jaw.\\n\\n CUT TO BLACK\\n\\n FADE IN: We see Gorgeous George lying on the floor with a\",\n \"\\n Let's. . . . Get ready to\\n rrrrrrummmmmble.\\n The two come out to fight. Bomber Harris lifts his monster\\n hands to do damage. They pace each other for a second.\\n Then Micky lets one go. <\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n ( CONTIN UED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n37 CONTINUED:\\n\\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is posit\",\n \"are open and he can't breathe, he continues\\n to fall, but he's unpanicked (he is now Micky 1). When Micky\\n 1 looks up he can see himself in the corner of the ring takin\\n kidney punches from Good Night, he's winded and only semi-\\n conscious (this is Micky 2). Micky 1 makes the effort to\\n swim up and tries to penetrate the floor but he's stuck he\\n can't get through. Micky 2 takes more punishment in the\\n ring\",\n \"fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\\n swipe: it was an .impressive punch, but Micky is a quick littl\\n bastard and sidesteps. Micky does nothing to retaliate; his\\n hands are still by his,side.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n20 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Gorgeous George lunges out and grabs\",\n \" We are nearly there. They are a\\n horrible bunch this lot Micky so pay\\n attention to what you are doing.\\n Micky just yawns.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Put up some kind of a show, he's a\\n hard bastard this \\\"good night\\\"\\n Anderson so don't get too clever, he\\n used to be a pro. Just keep moving\\n round the ring, and let the odd one\\n go when push has come to shove.\\n\\n MICK\",\n \"\\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \\\"good night\\\" is\\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches his\\n opponent's knees threaten to betray him. The crowd tries to\\n digest what is happening. After a period of silence reality\\n dawns. Brick Top mouths the words in silence.\\\"Don1t go down\\n you fucker\\\". The crowd wants Micky to finish the job. But\\n common sense reins back the coup de grace. \\\"Good night\\\"\\n eventually regains control of his legs and stumbles\",\n \"Micky. Otherwise we are\\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\\n Micky goes out again his hands are low, BANG there is a flash\\n of white as Micky goes down in the dirt. Dust rises from\\n where he fell. He gets up quickly, his hands are still low,\\n BANG he goes down again, in no time he's up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n120 CONT\",\n \". Just keep moving\\n round the ring, and let the odd one\\n go when push has come to shove.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Let's get on with it, shall we?\\n\\n118 INT. WAREHOUSE - '\\n\\n A temporary ring has been erected, four scaffolding posts\\n with welded on hoops make the arena, the ropes that are\\n threaded through the hoops are industrial nylon and free of\\n padding. Around the ropes it'\",\n \" concerned for his mum. Pause as Micky waits for her to be\\n well gone.\\n\\n MICKY (CONT'D)\\n\\n I ' l l fight you for it.\\n\\n\\n\\n Tommy looks at Gorgeous George. Gorgeous George raises his\\n eyebrows.\\n\\n20 INT. HORSE BOX, PIKEY CAMP -- DAY\\n\\n The two fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\\n swipe\",\n \"ED:\\n\\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is positively out\\n cold. We crashtrack into various characters' reactions:\\n Brick Top, Turkish and Tommy etc. All are in shock. The\\n ref (who is obviously paid off as well) tries to resuscitate\\n Harris/ but it's not happening, he catches a look of\\n desperation from one of the villains and is eventually left\\n with little choice but to hold Micky's hand\",\n \"to penetrate the floor but he's stuck he\\n can't get through. Micky 2 takes more punishment in the\\n ring, as Micky 1 ' s hand continues to try to break the\\n underside of the floor but it stretches like rubber and forces\\n Micky 1 down again. Micky 1 looks up again and sees how\\n much trouble Micky 2 ' s in the ring. Micky 1 is panicking\\n now, he's running out of oxygen and Micky 2's being beaten,\\n Micky \",\n \"\\n\\n\\n Again we cut to the reactions of the relevant parties.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Tommy get the van.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I have it, it's waiting.\\n Turkish jumps into the ring and grabs Micky.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n We are off Micky, hold tight, and\\n move quickly. ,\\n Turkish pulls Micky away. It's not as hard as it might be\\n trying to get out,\",\n \"icky 1 is panicking\\n now, he's running out of oxygen and Micky 2's being beaten,\\n Micky 1 starts -to sink again but now flames tickle the bottom\\n of his feet he looks up. and sees Micky 2 being smashed to\\n hell, his body eventually collapses and Micky 2 falls through\\n the floor. And as the latter falls through, Micky 1 manages\\n to rise from the depths and his punch manages to perforate\\n the surface. The punch continues its trajectory and\",\n \"time he's up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n120 CONTINUED: -\\n\\n BANG: he hits the ground again and this time when he hits\\n the deck, he penetrates the dust covered floor, like i t ' s\\n made out of water. He falls through the water like he's\\n sinking; his eyes are open and he can't breathe, he continues\\n to fall, but he's unpanicked (he is now Micky 1).\",\n \"? I bet you can box a little\\n can't you sir? You look like a boxer.\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n Get out of the way Micky and see if\\n the fellas would like a drink.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I could murder one.\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n There won't be any murdering done\\n around here, I don't mind telling\\n ya.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Would the big fella like a cup of\\n tea?\\n\\n M\",\n \"job. But\\n common sense reins back the coup de grace. \\\"Good night\\\"\\n eventually regains control of his legs and stumbles forward,\\n after a few sleepy punches he starts to provide a serious\\n onslaught.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n I don't like the look of this Tommy,\\n bring the van up to the back door.\\n This goes on for two rounds (which is montage down to a few\\n seconds). We go in the mind of poor Micky. We break the\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \" (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\\n to his wrist.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\\n\\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree\",\n \"have we got here?\\n\\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop. He walks in.\\n\\n42 INT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Franky is tied up on a stool, in front of him is the case\\n and it's open. Boris waves the black guys to come into the\\n corridor so they can talk without being heard.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n What are you doing with him?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n \",\n \"of times - nothing happens, but on\\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\\n\\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\\n to take the case off him but i t ' s\",\n \"DOUG\\n\\n No it's true. I can't find'him, but\\n I know a man that can.\\n Cut to a shot of Hands encouraging him to continue.\\n\\n DOUG (CONT'D)\\n\\n Tony. Bullet Tooth Tony. He'll\\n find Franky for you.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Who's he?\\n Susi interrupts.\\n\\n SUSI\\n\\n ·What is he?' Would be a more\\n appropriate\",\n \"looking for Franky Four Fingers.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n Well he said he was going to be here.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n36 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n If there's gambling involved, he'll\\n be here.\\n They get nudged aside by an entourage of men coming through.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\",\n \"this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n If you need a man in London then\\n call this number.\\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\",\n \"ANDS\\n\\n Yeah, Doug the Head. But get some\\n security. I mean it, get it today,\\n speak to those Russians, they can\\n get you anything. And. . .\\n\\n\\n\\n Dramatic pause\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n And what?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n No fuckin around in any casinos, you\\n hear me? You've done a good job\\n Franky, don't go and fuck it up.\\n\\n FRANKY FO\",\n \"\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I want you to do something for me .\\n Franky nods for him to go on .\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky:\",\n \"The\\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\\n\\n ,, · '\\n\\n wrong way.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n What the fuck are you two doing?\\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four F\",\n \"then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN DRIVER\\n looks dramatically calm.\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Pass him the money.\\n Franky hesitates for a second.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n Franky you know you have no choice.\\n So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent\",\n \"?\\n Susi interrupts.\\n\\n SUSI\\n\\n ·What is he?' Would be a more\\n appropriate question.\\n Doug frowns at Susi, but continues.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n He's the best chance you have of\\n finding Franky.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n ' ' '\\n\\n\\n .\\n\\n\\n48 CON\",\n \"MY\\n\\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\\n Russian.\\n\\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Vin and Sol are trying to wrap Franky's body up. Bad Boy\\n Lincoln has been called in to help.\\n\\n BAD BOY LINCOLN\\n\\n What happened to him?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n He got shot in the face Lincoln, I\\n would have thought that was obvious.\\n\\n BA D BOY LINCOLN\\n\",\n \"metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\\n van was blocking his exit.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone\",\n \" What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\\n been exposed.\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a bookies I know that will\\n take bets. If you place one down\\n for me we will call it quits.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \"backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\\n\\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\\n\\n\\n WE FADE UP\\n\\n (Time-wise, we're now at the end of scene 34)\\n Frankie wakes up. He has a trickle of blood dripping down\\n the back of his neck, he looks at his watch and panics. He\\n kicks the doors a couple of times - nothing happens, but on\\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\\n off and makes his way to the\",\n \"- as Tyrone parks the van )\\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\\n\\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\\n\\n\\n WE FADE UP\\n\",\n \"is FRANKY FOUR -FINGERS, (New York street\\n wise Jew) who is clutching a fancy looking briefcase which\\n is handcuffed to his wrist. He is flanked by TWO RUSSIAN\\n HOODS. This next section will be subtitled.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n How much further do we have to go?\\n Just then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN D\",\n \"So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body,\\n but if I see you again...well look\\n at him.\\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\\n you like.\\n\\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\\n\\n\",\n \"DOUG\\n\\n Yes.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n And he's gone gambling? That's Franky\\n \\\"I have a problem with gambling\\\"\\n fuckin Four Fingers, you are talking\\n about Doug.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n What am I, telepathic?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Franky is good at buying stones Doug\\n but he's a fuckin liability when it\\n comes to gambling. That has cost\\n me. So in turn rit' s cost him. He\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \" THE REFF\\n\\n Alright lads no eye gouging no biting.\\n Do your worst. Back to your corners.\\n\\n\\n\\n We drift again into Micky's pov, his world is becoming more\\n and more surreal. He can faintly hear Turkish whispering\\n words to him, but he's not really listening. A bell comes\\n from somewhere, and Micky instinctively walks to the center\\n of the ring. \\\"Good night\\\" is already there, they pace one\\n another for a second or two, Micky\",\n \"walks to the center\\n of the ring. \\\"Good night\\\" is already there, they pace one\\n another for a second or two, Micky avoids a punch or two and\\n then he takes a hard one and he knows it, we flash to white,\\n Micky's in trouble: he lets one of his missiles go and BANG\\n it shakes \\\"good night\\\" to his core, all goes quiet. We go\\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \\\"good night\\\" is\\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches\",\n \"fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\\n swipe: it was an .impressive punch, but Micky is a quick littl\\n bastard and sidesteps. Micky does nothing to retaliate; his\\n hands are still by his,side.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n20 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Gorgeous George lunges out and grabs\",\n \" MICKY -\\n\\n You're not going anywhere my friend.\\n You stay until the job is done.\\n Micky starts pacing, and throwing out a couple of shadow\\n punches with his back to Gorgeous George, he still hasn't\\n really acknowledged his opponent. Gorgeous George moves in\\n for the coup de grace, Micky spins on his feet and catches\\n the big man under the jaw.\\n\\n CUT TO BLACK\\n\\n FADE IN: We see Gorgeous George lying on the floor with a\",\n \"goes on for two rounds (which is montage down to a few\\n seconds). We go in the mind of poor Micky. We break the\\n music just as it's starting to look dangerous... The bell\\n goes and Micky walks to the wrong corner. Turkish pulls him\\n back to his corner.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n They are on ya. You got to hurt him\\n Micky. Otherwise we are\\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\",\n \" concerned for his mum. Pause as Micky waits for her to be\\n well gone.\\n\\n MICKY (CONT'D)\\n\\n I ' l l fight you for it.\\n\\n\\n\\n Tommy looks at Gorgeous George. Gorgeous George raises his\\n eyebrows.\\n\\n20 INT. HORSE BOX, PIKEY CAMP -- DAY\\n\\n The two fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\\n swipe\",\n \"wanted me to\\n fuck you two off, that's why I wanted\\n you back. I' l l do the fight before\\n he causes any more carnage, but I ' l l\\n only do it if you're there.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Why?\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Because I know he fuckin hates ya. . ·\\n\\n91 INT. TURKISH'S CAR -- CONTINUOUS\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Turkish and Tommy are\",\n \"sudden he starts jumping up and down like he's warming up,\\n throwing a few shadow punches, taking off his shirt. This\\n reveals a heavily tattooed and scarred torso, and underneath\\n these embellishments is a physique that warrants some respect.\\n\\n GORGEOUS GEORGE (CONT'D)\\n\\n This is sick. I am outta here.\\n\\n MICKY -\\n\\n You're not going anywhere my friend.\\n You stay until the job is done.\\n Micky\",\n \"\\n Let's. . . . Get ready to\\n rrrrrrummmmmble.\\n The two come out to fight. Bomber Harris lifts his monster\\n hands to do damage. They pace each other for a second.\\n Then Micky lets one go. <\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n ( CONTIN UED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n37 CONTINUED:\\n\\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is posit\",\n \"\\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \\\"good night\\\" is\\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches his\\n opponent's knees threaten to betray him. The crowd tries to\\n digest what is happening. After a period of silence reality\\n dawns. Brick Top mouths the words in silence.\\\"Don1t go down\\n you fucker\\\". The crowd wants Micky to finish the job. But\\n common sense reins back the coup de grace. \\\"Good night\\\"\\n eventually regains control of his legs and stumbles\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n Again we cut to the reactions of the relevant parties.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Tommy get the van.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I have it, it's waiting.\\n Turkish jumps into the ring and grabs Micky.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n We are off Micky, hold tight, and\\n move quickly. ,\\n Turkish pulls Micky away. It's not as hard as it might be\\n trying to get out,\",\n \" We are nearly there. They are a\\n horrible bunch this lot Micky so pay\\n attention to what you are doing.\\n Micky just yawns.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Put up some kind of a show, he's a\\n hard bastard this \\\"good night\\\"\\n Anderson so don't get too clever, he\\n used to be a pro. Just keep moving\\n round the ring, and let the odd one\\n go when push has come to shove.\\n\\n MICK\",\n \"Micky. Otherwise we are\\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\\n Micky goes out again his hands are low, BANG there is a flash\\n of white as Micky goes down in the dirt. Dust rises from\\n where he fell. He gets up quickly, his hands are still low,\\n BANG he goes down again, in no time he's up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n120 CONT\",\n \"are open and he can't breathe, he continues\\n to fall, but he's unpanicked (he is now Micky 1). When Micky\\n 1 looks up he can see himself in the corner of the ring takin\\n kidney punches from Good Night, he's winded and only semi-\\n conscious (this is Micky 2). Micky 1 makes the effort to\\n swim up and tries to penetrate the floor but he's stuck he\\n can't get through. Micky 2 takes more punishment in the\\n ring\",\n \" MUM\\n\\n You'll do no such thing Michael.\\n You'll...\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Alright Mum, we shan't, we'll settle\\n it some other way, now don't get\\n upset.\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n I won't have you fighting, Micky.\\n Micky's Mum is getting upset and it's consequently upsetting\\n Micky.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Okay mum okay. You need to\",\n \" What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\\n been exposed.\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a bookies I know that will\\n take bets. If you place one down\\n for me we will call it quits.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Are you taking the piss?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n No, there was an accident.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n I'll show you a fuckin accident.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You've still got your fight.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n No, I lose all bets at the bookies.\\n You can't change fighters at the\\n last minute, so no, I\",\n \"then look at the size\\n of his fists. Hey Mum, come and\\n look at the size of this fella.\\n The kids start to feel his arms. Gorgeous George plays the\\n game and raises the kids on his biceps. Micky's MUM comes\\n out to see.\\n\\n MICKY (CONT'D)\\n\\n Would you look at the strength of\\n the man? I bet you can box a little\\n can't you sir? You look like a boxer.\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n \",\n \"to penetrate the floor but he's stuck he\\n can't get through. Micky 2 takes more punishment in the\\n ring, as Micky 1 ' s hand continues to try to break the\\n underside of the floor but it stretches like rubber and forces\\n Micky 1 down again. Micky 1 looks up again and sees how\\n much trouble Micky 2 ' s in the ring. Micky 1 is panicking\\n now, he's running out of oxygen and Micky 2's being beaten,\\n Micky \",\n \"\\n\\n So Michael, you got it clear? It's\\n the fourth round. I'll tap you anyway\\n to let you know when to go down.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n36 CONTINUED: ( 2 )\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Just make sure the man doesn't kill\\n me before the fuckin fourth.\\n\\n CUT TO:BRICK TOP\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\n\\n Again we cut to the reactions of the relevant parties.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Tommy get the van.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I have it, it's waiting.\\n Turkish jumps into the ring and grabs Micky.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n We are off Micky, hold tight, and\\n move quickly. ,\\n Turkish pulls Micky away. It's not as hard as it might be\\n trying to get out,\",\n \" We are nearly there. They are a\\n horrible bunch this lot Micky so pay\\n attention to what you are doing.\\n Micky just yawns.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Put up some kind of a show, he's a\\n hard bastard this \\\"good night\\\"\\n Anderson so don't get too clever, he\\n used to be a pro. Just keep moving\\n round the ring, and let the odd one\\n go when push has come to shove.\\n\\n MICK\",\n \"goes on for two rounds (which is montage down to a few\\n seconds). We go in the mind of poor Micky. We break the\\n music just as it's starting to look dangerous... The bell\\n goes and Micky walks to the wrong corner. Turkish pulls him\\n back to his corner.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n They are on ya. You got to hurt him\\n Micky. Otherwise we are\\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\",\n \"top look like\\n a skirt clinging thumb sucker. And\\n i f y o u p l a y wi t h f i r e . . . ·\\n Cut to a few still shots of atrocities committed by the men\\n in question. ,\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n .: CUT TO: TURKISH & MICKY\\n\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n So Michael, you got it clear? It's\\n the fourth round. I'll tap you anyway\\n to\",\n \"wanted me to\\n fuck you two off, that's why I wanted\\n you back. I' l l do the fight before\\n he causes any more carnage, but I ' l l\\n only do it if you're there.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Why?\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Because I know he fuckin hates ya. . ·\\n\\n91 INT. TURKISH'S CAR -- CONTINUOUS\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Turkish and Tommy are\",\n \"\\n\\n So Michael, you got it clear? It's\\n the fourth round. I'll tap you anyway\\n to let you know when to go down.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n36 CONTINUED: ( 2 )\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Just make sure the man doesn't kill\\n me before the fuckin fourth.\\n\\n CUT TO:BRICK TOP\",\n \" THE REFF\\n\\n Alright lads no eye gouging no biting.\\n Do your worst. Back to your corners.\\n\\n\\n\\n We drift again into Micky's pov, his world is becoming more\\n and more surreal. He can faintly hear Turkish whispering\\n words to him, but he's not really listening. A bell comes\\n from somewhere, and Micky instinctively walks to the center\\n of the ring. \\\"Good night\\\" is already there, they pace one\\n another for a second or two, Micky\",\n \"\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Well I can't see anyone. After I\\n have got in go round the front and\\n call me if you see anything.\\n\\n44 INT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE\\n\\n Turkish lets himself in and walks through. Everything seems\\n to be fine. ·\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n44 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n He walks into his office, has a quick\",\n \"icky's pov. Thisis shot in slow\\n motion. Micky opens his eyes, in the backof.a large van,\\n there is only one faint light that moodilyilluminates his\\n tired eyes.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You feeling alright Micky?\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n I've felt better.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n We are nearly there. They are a\\n horrible bunch this lot Micky so pay\\n attention to what you are doing.\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n You looking for Micky?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n 'Do you know where I can find him?\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n Yes.\\n Pause ·\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n49 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Well would you like to share that\\n information with me Ms O'\",\n \"outside the pikey camp. Micky's\\n Mum is sitting in her chair surrounded by kids.\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n They're very nice Tommy. Thank you.\\n Tommy has produced a bunch of flowers from somewhere. Turkish\\n finds this a great surprise.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Where did they come from? You're a\\n snake in the grass Tommy.\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n You looking for Micky?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n 'Do you\",\n \"\\n\\n Save your breath for cooling your\\n porridge. I'll bet you for it.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n What like Tommy did last time? Do\\n me a favour?\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n I ' l l do you a favour, you have first ,\\n bet. If I win I get the caravan, if\\n I lose I'l l do the fight for free.\\n Turkish considers this, uneasily. He looks at the dogs they\\n look keen and fit.\\n\\n T\",\n \"Micky. Otherwise we are\\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\\n Micky goes out again his hands are low, BANG there is a flash\\n of white as Micky goes down in the dirt. Dust rises from\\n where he fell. He gets up quickly, his hands are still low,\\n BANG he goes down again, in no time he's up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n120 CONT\",\n \"CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n26 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n You know what he's done to people on\\n that pool table?\\n They both give the table an eyeball.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n What, potted more balls than any\\n other player? What else can you do\\n to people on a pool table?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Quite a fuckin lot if\",\n \"Of course.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Of course fuckin of course, I wasn't\\n asking I was telling. But this time\\n I do want him to go down in the\\n fourth. And I do mean it this time.\\n Pause\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n Now I know you,came back. to. open\\n your safe, so now you can open it. .\\n There is nothing Turkish can do.\\n\\n46 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE\",\n \"\\n\\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\\n fuckin sausages.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n What were you thinking of? Why the\\n fuck did you put Gorgeous George\\n into a bare knuckle boxing match two\\n days before he had to fight the\\n Bomber?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n He was half his size.\\n He pantomimes a man that would reach his navel\\n\\n T\",\n \"\\n\\n We see Turkish with a somewhat serious expression on his\\n face he has his customary pint of milk on one side, he takes\\n a sip and \\\"ohhhs\\\" and \\\"arrrs\\\" for a while.\\n\\n .TURKISH\\n\\n So you're telling me he would have\\n run you through if Gorgeous hadn't\\n woken up?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\\n fuck\",\n \"Well aren't you going to answer it?\\n Turkish does.\\n\\n45 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\\n\\n Tommy on the phone.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n45 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Brick Top's just landed, he's walking\\n in the front, I would move it if I\\n were you Turkish...\\n Turkish puts down the phone\",\n \"\\n119 INT. BACK OF WAREHOUSE\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Brick Top is standing in front of Micky whose eyes are still\\n semi open.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n What's wrong with you? You stoned?\\n Is he fuckin stoned?\\n\\n TURKISH . -\\n\\n He's like that before a fight.\\n He turns his attention to Micky.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Now you know when you're going down?\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n21 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n What the fuck did you expect? A\\n grease down and a shiatsu?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Who took the jam out of your donut?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You took the fuckin jam out of my\\n donut Tommy, you did.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n You said get a good\"\n ],\n [\n \"The\\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\\n\\n ,, · '\\n\\n wrong way.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n What the fuck are you two doing?\\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four F\",\n \"Sol and Vin.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n No wonder that sneaky fuckin Russian\\n didn't want to do it.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n First things first, one of us, Tyrone,\\n you get round to-the Russian's. The\\n second you see him call us.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n You better be round with something\\n substantial, don't turn up with a\\n frown and a wagging finger.\\n\\n SOL\",\n \"the counter.\\n The security screen comes flying back up.\\n\\n VINNY .\\n\\n Get me out of here now Sol.\\n Vinny does sound convincingly desperate.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n We're going Vin.\\n He grabs the bag of copper coins, grabs Vince and marches\\n towards the double'doors. They open the first set and then\\n they try to open the second. They push the door nothing\\n happens. There is no going back. Sol starts to kick the\\n glass door\",\n \" (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n94 CONTINUED: -<2)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Well just how fuckin loud did you\\n think it was going to be? It's a-\\n fucking gun Sol, guns are renowned\\n for making a loud fucking noise\\n whenever you pull the trigger.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n You wanted to see if they worked.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I didn't\",\n \"\\n counter and a security screen comes flying up at a very rapid\\n rate of knots protecting all the counters. This has the\\n unfortunate consequence of taking Vinny with it. Poor Vin\\n is shot straight to the ceiling, all we can see is half a\\n body and his desperately searching for ground legs. Needless\\n to say this leaves Sol in a bit of a bewildered state. He's\\n looking the wrong way at the critical moment and is left\\n wondering what happened, not having seen Vince impaled on\\n the ceiling. Sol extracts the enormous\",\n \"\\n SOL (CONT.'D)\\n\\n Copper coins? What do you mean copper\\n fuckin coins?\\n Pauline sees her opportunity and grabs the pistol. Sol .goes\\n for it too, but he's beaten to it. Sol ducks, pulling Vince\\n with him, Pauline lets out a series of shots in their\\n direction, Sol counter blasts over the top of the counter.\\n The security screen comes flying back up.\\n\\n VINNY .\\n\\n Get me out of here\",\n \" VINNY\\n\\n Yeah well I didn't expect them to\\n lock us up in here did I?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Ohh your one clever bastard Vin, you\\n really are. Where is it?\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n It's at Lincoln's.\\n\\n BAD BOY LINCOLN\\n\\n What the fuck's it doing at my place?\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Waiting for us to pick it up.\\n\\n \",\n \"CONTINUED: -\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n Well come on.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Not so fast Vin we can't get em now\\n we gonna have to follow them.\\n B TT's car moves off. The black guys follow.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n I ' l l move in. It'll be ok.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n OK is\",\n \"sorry but I\\n couldn't get the binoculars out in\\n time.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Well let's not stand on ceremony,\\n let's start the show.\\n They get out of the van and go up to the bookies, leaving\\n Tyrone in the van. There's a double set of glass doors.\\n Sol pushes them open, and Vinny walks in first, while Sol\\n hangs back with the shotgun.\\n\\n32 INT. BOOKIES -- DAY\\n\\n Inside\",\n \"see it clearly.\\n I t ' s a pawnbrokers.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n12 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Move it, come on move\\\" i t .\\n Vinny enters the pawn shop.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n13 INT. PAWN BROKERS -- DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Meet SOL, who's behind the counter, Vinny's partner in the\\n pawn shop.\",\n \" shattering bullet-proof glass all around them. Vinny's panic\\n filled eyes attempt to follow its trajectory. Sol is unaware\\n of the ricochet and before Vin has time to warn him, Sol\\n fires another bullet. Now he observes the problem and waits\\n for the inevitable. The bullet tears through the bag of\\n coins, which then empties its contents at Vin's and Sol's\\n feet. Eventually the bullet hits poor Vince in the thigh.\\n Sol sinks to the floor, he has given up. Amongst the yells\",\n \"\\n SOL\\n\\n You wanted to see if they worked.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I didn't mean try it in the fuckin\\n car Sol.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Well they work, I reckon they are\\n really going to put the shits into\\n em.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Right now I am not concerned with\\n putting the shits into em Sol, I am\\n \\\" \\\" . concerned about taking the pain out\\n of my ringing fucking ears\",\n \"without being heard.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n What are you doing with him?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n The case was attached to his body.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n So why didn't you chop it off?\\n Sol looks horrified by the thought.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Err, because we didn't. Now Boris\\n we have or rather you have a problem.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n What?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \"DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Meet SOL, who's behind the counter, Vinny's partner in the\\n pawn shop. He's concentrating on the deal at hand with BAD\\n BOY LINCOLN and has a stone-inspecting monocle to his eye.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Alright Sol, Lincoln.\\n They are in deep discussion and only Lincoln responds.\\n\\n B AD BOY LINCOLN\\n\\n Vin.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n It\",\n \"Vin and Sol are going through a selection of keys they have,\\n trying to open the front door.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Lincoln's got some tools here, when\\n he has had a few drinks he gets em\\n out and runs around the house holding\\n a pistol in each hand, telling me\\n about what a bad boy he is.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Do you know where he keeps em?\\n They find the right key.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Well they ain't gonna\",\n \"MAN is stepping into the bookies: he\\n is carrying a case.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n Shit, was that him?\\n\\n .' VINNY\\n\\n Don't ask me, you're the one supposed\\n to keep an eye on it. How many\\n fingers did he have?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Are you serious? I am sorry but I\\n couldn't get the binoculars out in\\n time.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Well let\",\n \"\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n . They're replicas.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n89 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n Hold tight rudy, are you fuckin mad?\\n Do you know who these people are?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n No I don't Tyrone, but I do know I\\n don't want to be eaten by pulled\\n\",\n \" SOL\\n\\n Can you get this fuckin dog to stop\\n dribbling on me?\\n Vin pulls the dog back.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n I worry about you Vin, Jesus, talk\\n about overkill. One look at a crack\\n desperate brother and you could wave\\n a knife and fork around, and I am\\n sure they would lick the salt of\\n your scrotum.\\n The car wash starts.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n What the fuck are you doing?\\n\\n\",\n \" SOL\\n\\n How you doing Vince?\\n A weakened voice retorts.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n How do I look like I am doing you\\n fucking idiot? I would be doing a\\n lot better if you would stop using\\n my name.\\n Consoled that his colleague is not dead it's back to business\\n for Sol. He raises the gun and pulls his fiercest face.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Now fill this bag. . . ' . - . -\",\n \"\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n We want half and that's because we\\n are being generous. We could by\\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\\n black guys are stunned into silence.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\\n who\"\n ],\n [\n \"but was a good dog.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Are you sure he's not here?\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n I think I would have noticed if a\\n fuckin dog was sitting in my caravan\\n don't you? Tommy, Turkish, have you\\n seen a dog sitting in me caravan?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n I can't say I have Micky.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n See there you have it.\\n\\n \",\n \"Turkish looks back at him blankly.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Here let me do you a favour.\\n He reaches over and grabs the carton from Turkish, and throws\\n it out the window. The milk obviously hits an on-coming car\\n . in the other direction. There is a terrible crashing noise.\\n Tommy and Turkish come to a standstill, and look back to see\\n a small pile up on the other side of the road.\\n\\n TOMMY (CONT'D)\\n\\n What was in that milk?\\n\",\n \" TOMMY\\n\\n What's wrong with this one?\\n Turning back to Tommy and ascending the steps in to his \\\"I\\n have seen better days\\\" caravan, TURKISH'S foot goes through\\n one of the stairs and the.door comes off at the hinges as he\\n tries to open it.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Oh nothing Tommy, it's tip top, it's\\n just I am not sure about the colour.\\n He passes him a piece of paper\\n\\n TUR\",\n \"\\n\\n We see Turkish with a somewhat serious expression on his\\n face he has his customary pint of milk on one side, he takes\\n a sip and \\\"ohhhs\\\" and \\\"arrrs\\\" for a while.\\n\\n .TURKISH\\n\\n So you're telling me he would have\\n run you through if Gorgeous hadn't\\n woken up?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\\n fuck\",\n \"\\n\\n91 INT. TURKISH'S CAR -- CONTINUOUS\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Turkish and Tommy are driving. Turkish is drinking a pint\\n of\\\"milk (as usual). There is silence for a while.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n91 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It's not warm the blood in his veins\\n is it?\\n\\n TURKISH\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n Again we cut to the reactions of the relevant parties.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Tommy get the van.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I have it, it's waiting.\\n Turkish jumps into the ring and grabs Micky.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n We are off Micky, hold tight, and\\n move quickly. ,\\n Turkish pulls Micky away. It's not as hard as it might be\\n trying to get out,\",\n \"MY\\n\\n So what's coursing?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n They set two lurchers, they are dogs\\n before you ask, on a hare, that's\\n the big rabbit. And the hare has to\\n outrun the dogs.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n What happens if he doesn't?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Well the big rabbit gets fucked\\n doesn't it?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONT\",\n \"KISH\\n\\n Well the big rabbit gets fucked\\n doesn't it?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n50 CONTINUED:\\n\\n Tommy looks a taken aback by this statement.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Come on, what, proper fucked?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Yeah before the Germans get there\\n Tommy. How can a dog fuck a\\n rabbit?...eh? If eats the bastard.\",\n \"MY\\n\\n There is something very wrong with\\n this, it was us that wanted to buy a\\n caravan off him.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Why didn't you \\\"bus a cap in his\\n ass\\\" then Tommy? Mind you, you would\\n do more damage if you threw it at\\n him.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n You saying I can't shoot?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Oh no Tommy I wasn't saying you can't\\n\",\n \"fight. A load of\\n HEAVY GEEZERS are commenting on the performance of the dogs,\\n one dog is being carried out by a single leg, it's covered\\n in blood. Another dog is left in the ring, it too is covered\\n in blood but it's survived.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n They can charm the paint off walls\\n these fellas.\\n\\n27 INT. BACK OF PUB - DOG FIGHT -- NIGHT\\n\\n A circle of blunt faces are exchanging money with\",\n \"saying I can't shoot?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Oh no Tommy I wasn't saying you can't\\n shoot, I know you can't shoot. What\\n I was saying is that six pound piece\\n of shit stuck in your trousers there\\n would do more damage if you fed it\\n to em.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Are you saying it doesn't work?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You tried it?\\n Tommy frowns\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n Save your breath for cooling your\\n porridge. I'll bet you for it.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n What like Tommy did last time? Do\\n me a favour?\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n I ' l l do you a favour, you have first ,\\n bet. If I win I get the caravan, if\\n I lose I'l l do the fight for free.\\n Turkish considers this, uneasily. He looks at the dogs they\\n look keen and fit.\\n\\n T\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n21 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n What the fuck did you expect? A\\n grease down and a shiatsu?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Who took the jam out of your donut?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You took the fuckin jam out of my\\n donut Tommy, you did.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n You said get a good\",\n \"face. Go on\\n try it.\\n Tommy sticks the gun out the window and pulls the trigger.\\n Nothing happens.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINU ED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n67 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Whoops.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\\n Russian.\\n\\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BRO\",\n \"in your\\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\\n your trousers?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It's for protection.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Protection from what, the Germans?\\n The war ended fifty years ago. Err\\n what's to stop it blowing your balls\\n off every time you sit down? Where\\n did you get it?\\nLooking down onto his gun.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Boris the Blade.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n Gorgeous George fastens the caravan to the back of their\\n Land Rover and pulls away. They wave at Micky and he\\n reciprocates.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n He's a good dog. He'll get a little\\n homesick for a while but he'11 get\\n over it.\\n Tommy has a dog that looks distressed about leaving Micky\\n sitting next to him.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n17 INT. CAR -- DAY\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I don\",\n \" He's coursing, he's a couple of fields\\n that way.\\n Pause\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n What's coursing?\\n\\n50 INT. CAR ·\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Hare coursing. The gypsies can't\\n get enough of it.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n What the fuck's a hare?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n I t ' s a\",\n \"and is off.\\n\\n67 INT. CAR\\n\\n Turkish is getting into his car. . ..\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n You're are as mad as mars you are,\\n why did you take that bet? What\\n happens now?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n We buy him a caravan Tommy.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n There is something very wrong with\\n this, it was us that wanted to buy a\\n caravan off him.\",\n \" EXT. ANOTHER BACK ALLEY MAKESHIFT BOXING RING - - DAY\\n\\n ...And the whip pan shot takes us into this boxing ring.\\n Meet TURKISH, he is Tommy's partner. Turkish is older and\\n wiser than Tommy, they are both watching Gorgeous go through\\n his paces. Gorgeous George is head butting a heavy punch\\n bag. The sound that emanates is disturbing, and Tommy is\\n distracted.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n \",\n \"CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n26 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n You know what he's done to people on\\n that pool table?\\n They both give the table an eyeball.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n What, potted more balls than any\\n other player? What else can you do\\n to people on a pool table?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Quite a fuckin lot if\"\n ],\n [\n \"Sol points at the man on the floor who is carrying the case.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n Let me see your hands.\\n The man holds his hands up. He has got a perfect set of\\n five fingers on both hands. Sol puts his head in his hands.\\n Pauline and the other clerk put two bags full of coins on\\n the counter. Sol picks them up and frowns, he's not happy\\n with a bag full of change. He puts his gun down and starts\\n to rifle through the bag. Pauline\",\n \"BTT\\n\\n Robbed. I gotta see a man who looks\\n like he might know something, but it\\n can't be done on the phone if you\\n know what I mean.\\n He turns to Rose Bud.\\n\\n ROSE BUD\\n\\n I need a cun.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTI NUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n75 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n No you don't, Rose Bud my old son,\",\n \"So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \" shattering bullet-proof glass all around them. Vinny's panic\\n filled eyes attempt to follow its trajectory. Sol is unaware\\n of the ricochet and before Vin has time to warn him, Sol\\n fires another bullet. Now he observes the problem and waits\\n for the inevitable. The bullet tears through the bag of\\n coins, which then empties its contents at Vin's and Sol's\\n feet. Eventually the bullet hits poor Vince in the thigh.\\n Sol sinks to the floor, he has given up. Amongst the yells\",\n \"have you got?\\n\\n PAULINE\\n\\n Nothing, I mean we got a few coins\\n but no notes.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Can we just get out of here please.\\n I am not feeling too funny.\\n Sol's temper does have a limit.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Well I am not feeling too fucking\\n funny myself, let me tell you!\\n Sol points at the man on the floor who is carrying the case.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n Let me see\",\n \"\\n Btt turns to Hands.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n Give us your wallet Hands.\\n Hands makes eyes and digs into his back pocket and produces\\n his wallet. BTT takes out some notes and proffers them to\\n Mullet, Mullet nervously reaches forward. As quick as you\\n like Btt has Mullet by the collar and pulls Mullet into the\\n car. He then raises the electric window on Mullet's throat\\n until it has fastened Mullet to the roof of the vehicle.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"There is a pause. Sol knows he's fucked. She points to a\\n black board that clearly states \\\"ALL BETS ARE OFF\\\"\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n I ain't buying that.\\n\\n PAULINE\\n\\n I ain't fuckin selling it, it's a\\n fact! . ''.\\n Pause\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Well, what have you got?\\n\\n PAULINE\\n\\n Nothing, I mean we got a few coins\\n but no notes.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n counter and a security screen comes flying up at a very rapid\\n rate of knots protecting all the counters. This has the\\n unfortunate consequence of taking Vinny with it. Poor Vin\\n is shot straight to the ceiling, all we can see is half a\\n body and his desperately searching for ground legs. Needless\\n to say this leaves Sol in a bit of a bewildered state. He's\\n looking the wrong way at the critical moment and is left\\n wondering what happened, not having seen Vince impaled on\\n the ceiling. Sol extracts the enormous\",\n \"s a good idea you\\n going in at all.\\n The car surges off round the back.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Unless you are going to\\n transcendentally extract the passports\\n and cash from out of a steel safe, I\\n can't see any other way of getting\\n them. Keep your eyes peeled.\\n Turkish has another look around the back\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Well I can't see anyone. After I\\n have got\",\n \"\\n except the two that died of course.\\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,\",\n \"The\\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\\n\\n ,, · '\\n\\n wrong way.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n What the fuck are you two doing?\\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four F\",\n \"of times - nothing happens, but on\\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\\n\\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\\n to take the case off him but i t ' s\",\n \" SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\\n\\n\\n TAKES US SEAMLESSLY INTO ANOTHER SHOT AND SET UP. THIS GOES\\n\\n\\n ON FOR THE DURATION OF THE CREDITS. CUT BACK TO:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Franky Four Fingers opens a fancy case, presses a hidden\\n catch, this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The\",\n \"money.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n40 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I don't believe this. Why are you\\n carrying round a case with this little\\n in it? . .\\n\\n\\n\\n Vin turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\\n comp\",\n \"keep the\\n money.\\n He rubs his fingers symbolically together\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n What's in the case?\\n Sol turns round to talk to Tyrone.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Fuckin 'ell Tyrone you ask a lot of\\n questions. You concentrate on the\\n driving okay?\\n He turns back just as a MAN is stepping into the bookies: he\\n is carrying a case.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n \",\n \"MAN is stepping into the bookies: he\\n is carrying a case.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n Shit, was that him?\\n\\n .' VINNY\\n\\n Don't ask me, you're the one supposed\\n to keep an eye on it. How many\\n fingers did he have?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Are you serious? I am sorry but I\\n couldn't get the binoculars out in\\n time.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Well let\",\n \"DOUG\\n\\n Yes.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n And he's gone gambling? That's Franky\\n \\\"I have a problem with gambling\\\"\\n fuckin Four Fingers, you are talking\\n about Doug.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n What am I, telepathic?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Franky is good at buying stones Doug\\n but he's a fuckin liability when it\\n comes to gambling. That has cost\\n me. So in turn rit' s cost him. He\\n \",\n \"He puts his foot down and Mullet loses his footing, and is\\n dragged along. '.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n What about?\\n He points to Mullet. BTT pulls an, 'oh yes I forgot about\\n him1 face. He doesn't even look at Mullet. He lowers the\\n window, and Mullet falls by the way, in god knows what\\n condition.\\n\\n78 INT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n The music continues, and we have a montage of the black\",\n \"then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN DRIVER\\n looks dramatically calm.\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Pass him the money.\\n Franky hesitates for a second.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n Franky you know you have no choice.\\n So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent\",\n \"I don't know what they are, all I\\n know is they have a caravan, and we\\n want a Caravan.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I hope they're not pikies. I hate\\n fucking pikies.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You're a sensitive boy, ain't you\\n Tommy? You got ten grand and I want\\n to see change.\\nHe is distracted by the bulge in Tommy's trouser front.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I want you to do something for me .\\n Franky nods for him to go on .\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky:\",\n \" What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\\n been exposed.\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a bookies I know that will\\n take bets. If you place one down\\n for me we will call it quits.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \"this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n If you need a man in London then\\n call this number.\\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\",\n \" combination you just shot.\\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\\n foot machete that he was concealing about his person. He\\n pulls the case towards him and brings the machete down with\\n full force. We can tell by the expression on Tyrone's face\\n that it must have been some part of Franky's anatomy.\\n Pointing to the ground:\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body\",\n \"\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body,\\n but if I see you again...well look\\n at him.\\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\\n you like.\\n\\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n We want half and that's because we\\n are being generous. We could by\\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\\n black guys are stunned into silence.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\\n who\",\n \"have we got here?\\n\\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop. He walks in.\\n\\n42 INT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Franky is tied up on a stool, in front of him is the case\\n and it's open. Boris waves the black guys to come into the\\n corridor so they can talk without being heard.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n What are you doing with him?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n \",\n \"me? You've done a good job\\n Franky, don't go and fuck it up.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I hear ya Hands. I see ya Hands.\\n The phone goes down and Hands looks up at a COLLEAGUE.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n He's got it.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n6 INT. BORIS1 HOUSE\\n\\n On the phone subtitled\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Yes he's got it.\",\n \"it Boris?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Heavy is good. Heavy is reliable.\\n If it doesn't work you can hit him\\n with it.\\n Tommy practices a couple of gun slinging maneuvers. He's\\n impressed. At that moment the door opens and in walks a MAN\\n carrying two heavy sacks of coins. He's a rough looking\\n bastard, he's massive, and extremely ugly. Meet GORGEOUS\\n\\n GEORGE.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \"UN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n The weight is a sign of reliability.\\n I always go for reliability.\\n Boris is showing Franky a large pistol.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I ' l l take it. How much do you want\\n for -it?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Nothing.\\n Pause\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\\n\\n BORIS\",\n \"name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Boris, Boris can get you anything\\n you need.\\n\\n CUT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n :\\n\\n\\n3 INT. LONDON - AMUSEMENT ARCADE -- DAY\\n\\n\\n C UT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We are in the back room\",\n \"ANDS\\n\\n Yeah, Doug the Head. But get some\\n security. I mean it, get it today,\\n speak to those Russians, they can\\n get you anything. And. . .\\n\\n\\n\\n Dramatic pause\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n And what?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n No fuckin around in any casinos, you\\n hear me? You've done a good job\\n Franky, don't go and fuck it up.\\n\\n FRANKY FO\",\n \"then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN DRIVER\\n looks dramatically calm.\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Pass him the money.\\n Franky hesitates for a second.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n Franky you know you have no choice.\\n So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent\",\n \"\\n there wasn't much but, here's ten\\n large to help the situation.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I am afraid it's too late for that\\n Boris. -\\n He holds up the diamond. Boris1 eyes follow him as he walks\\n back into the room where Franky is and puts the diamond back\\n into the case while he's talking and changes the combination.\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n We want half and that's because we\\n are being generous. We could\",\n \"DOUG\\n\\n No it's true. I can't find'him, but\\n I know a man that can.\\n Cut to a shot of Hands encouraging him to continue.\\n\\n DOUG (CONT'D)\\n\\n Tony. Bullet Tooth Tony. He'll\\n find Franky for you.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Who's he?\\n Susi interrupts.\\n\\n SUSI\\n\\n ·What is he?' Would be a more\\n appropriate\",\n \"(CONT'D)\\n\\n Jesus, where did you come from?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Uzbekistan.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Oi Sol, Boris is here.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Boris, what's up?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I have a job for you.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Go on.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I want you to hold up a bookies.\\n\\n S\",\n \"is FRANKY FOUR -FINGERS, (New York street\\n wise Jew) who is clutching a fancy looking briefcase which\\n is handcuffed to his wrist. He is flanked by TWO RUSSIAN\\n HOODS. This next section will be subtitled.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n How much further do we have to go?\\n Just then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN D\",\n \"looking for Franky Four Fingers.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n Well he said he was going to be here.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n36 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n If there's gambling involved, he'll\\n be here.\\n They get nudged aside by an entourage of men coming through.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\",\n \"\\n Go on.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I want you to hold up a bookies.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n How high do you want us to hold it?\\n Steady on George. We deal in\\n jewellery Boris, we don't hold up\\n bookies.\\n We can hear Vinny in the background\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Hear me out. This one is different.\\n\\n14 INT. TOMMY'S VAN -- DAY\",\n \"DOUG\\n\\n Yes.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n And he's gone gambling? That's Franky\\n \\\"I have a problem with gambling\\\"\\n fuckin Four Fingers, you are talking\\n about Doug.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n What am I, telepathic?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Franky is good at buying stones Doug\\n but he's a fuckin liability when it\\n comes to gambling. That has cost\\n me. So in turn rit' s cost him. He\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"face. Go on\\n try it.\\n Tommy sticks the gun out the window and pulls the trigger.\\n Nothing happens.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINU ED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n67 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Whoops.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\\n Russian.\\n\\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BRO\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n Again we cut to the reactions of the relevant parties.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Tommy get the van.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I have it, it's waiting.\\n Turkish jumps into the ring and grabs Micky.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n We are off Micky, hold tight, and\\n move quickly. ,\\n Turkish pulls Micky away. It's not as hard as it might be\\n trying to get out,\",\n \" TOMMY\\n\\n What's wrong with this one?\\n Turning back to Tommy and ascending the steps in to his \\\"I\\n have seen better days\\\" caravan, TURKISH'S foot goes through\\n one of the stairs and the.door comes off at the hinges as he\\n tries to open it.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Oh nothing Tommy, it's tip top, it's\\n just I am not sure about the colour.\\n He passes him a piece of paper\\n\\n TUR\",\n \"see change.\\nHe is distracted by the bulge in Tommy's trouser front.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Fuck me, hold tight, what's that?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It's my Gucci belt, Turkish.\\nPointing quite clearly at the gun.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n No Tommy, there's a gun in your\\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\\n your trousers?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It\",\n \"in your\\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\\n your trousers?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It's for protection.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Protection from what, the Germans?\\n The war ended fifty years ago. Err\\n what's to stop it blowing your balls\\n off every time you sit down? Where\\n did you get it?\\nLooking down onto his gun.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Boris the Blade.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n \",\n \"outside the pikey camp. Micky's\\n Mum is sitting in her chair surrounded by kids.\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n They're very nice Tommy. Thank you.\\n Tommy has produced a bunch of flowers from somewhere. Turkish\\n finds this a great surprise.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Where did they come from? You're a\\n snake in the grass Tommy.\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n You looking for Micky?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n 'Do you\",\n \" SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\\n\\n\\n TAKES US SEAMLESSLY INTO ANOTHER SHOT AND SET UP. THIS GOES\\n\\n\\n ON FOR THE DURATION OF THE CREDITS. CUT BACK TO:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Franky Four Fingers opens a fancy case, presses a hidden\\n catch, this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The\",\n \" EXT. ANOTHER BACK ALLEY MAKESHIFT BOXING RING - - DAY\\n\\n ...And the whip pan shot takes us into this boxing ring.\\n Meet TURKISH, he is Tommy's partner. Turkish is older and\\n wiser than Tommy, they are both watching Gorgeous go through\\n his paces. Gorgeous George is head butting a heavy punch\\n bag. The sound that emanates is disturbing, and Tommy is\\n distracted.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n \",\n \"the window and the car\\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n2 CONTINUED:\\n\\n Franky opens the package and he reveals a stone the size of\\n a fist. He shines a torch onto it and puts a stone inspectin\\n monocle to his eye. He's satisfied.\\n\\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX\",\n \"\\n Pause for thought, then Turkish has the look of a man that\\n has come across a really bright idea.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Jesus!\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n What?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Let's use the fuckin pikey.\\n\\n22 INT. DOUG'S OFFICE -- DAY\\n\\n Doug the Head and Franky Four Fingers are doing a deal.\\n Doug has a case open and\",\n \"Turkish looks back at him blankly.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Here let me do you a favour.\\n He reaches over and grabs the carton from Turkish, and throws\\n it out the window. The milk obviously hits an on-coming car\\n . in the other direction. There is a terrible crashing noise.\\n Tommy and Turkish come to a standstill, and look back to see\\n a small pile up on the other side of the road.\\n\\n TOMMY (CONT'D)\\n\\n What was in that milk?\\n\",\n \"CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n26 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n You know what he's done to people on\\n that pool table?\\n They both give the table an eyeball.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n What, potted more balls than any\\n other player? What else can you do\\n to people on a pool table?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Quite a fuckin lot if\",\n \"for the fights\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n How am I supposed to run this thing\\n from that? We gonna need a proper\\n office.\\n He looks at the caravan again and sighs, it is quite pitiful\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n I want a new one Tommy and you 're\\n going to buy it for me.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n What's wrong with this one?\\n Turning back to Tommy and ascending the steps in to his \\\"\",\n \"\\n\\n We see Turkish with a somewhat serious expression on his\\n face he has his customary pint of milk on one side, he takes\\n a sip and \\\"ohhhs\\\" and \\\"arrrs\\\" for a while.\\n\\n .TURKISH\\n\\n So you're telling me he would have\\n run you through if Gorgeous hadn't\\n woken up?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\\n fuck\",\n \"?\\n Turkish looks at the WATER BOY.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Oi son, look lively.\\n\\n\\n\\n He turns .back to Tommy.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Look at it.\\n\\n\\n\\n He turns to see the remnants of a caravan where they keep\\n the training gear and administration for the fights\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n How am I supposed to run this thing\\n from that?\",\n \"\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Well I can't see anyone. After I\\n have got in go round the front and\\n call me if you see anything.\\n\\n44 INT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE\\n\\n Turkish lets himself in and walks through. Everything seems\\n to be fine. ·\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n44 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n He walks into his office, has a quick\",\n \"Well aren't you going to answer it?\\n Turkish does.\\n\\n45 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\\n\\n Tommy on the phone.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n45 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Brick Top's just landed, he's walking\\n in the front, I would move it if I\\n were you Turkish...\\n Turkish puts down the phone\",\n \"I don't know what they are, all I\\n know is they have a caravan, and we\\n want a Caravan.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I hope they're not pikies. I hate\\n fucking pikies.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You're a sensitive boy, ain't you\\n Tommy? You got ten grand and I want\\n to see change.\\nHe is distracted by the bulge in Tommy's trouser front.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n21 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n What the fuck did you expect? A\\n grease down and a shiatsu?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Who took the jam out of your donut?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You took the fuckin jam out of my\\n donut Tommy, you did.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n You said get a good\",\n \"withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Well come on, let's have a look.\\n Brick Top passes the stone to Hands. All goes quiet while\\n everybody focuses on the stone. Hands lifts it up to his\\n eye.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\\n\\n What are you playing at? -\\n He drops the stone: it smashes on the ground.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\\n\\n It's a zircon\"\n ],\n [\n \" SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\\n\\n\\n TAKES US SEAMLESSLY INTO ANOTHER SHOT AND SET UP. THIS GOES\\n\\n\\n ON FOR THE DURATION OF THE CREDITS. CUT BACK TO:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Franky Four Fingers opens a fancy case, presses a hidden\\n catch, this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The\",\n \"of times - nothing happens, but on\\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\\n\\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\\n to take the case off him but i t ' s\",\n \"\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I want you to do something for me .\\n Franky nods for him to go on .\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky:\",\n \"have we got here?\\n\\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop. He walks in.\\n\\n42 INT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Franky is tied up on a stool, in front of him is the case\\n and it's open. Boris waves the black guys to come into the\\n corridor so they can talk without being heard.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n What are you doing with him?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n \",\n \"money.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n40 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I don't believe this. Why are you\\n carrying round a case with this little\\n in it? . .\\n\\n\\n\\n Vin turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\\n comp\",\n \"this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n If you need a man in London then\\n call this number.\\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\",\n \"DOUG\\n\\n Yes.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n And he's gone gambling? That's Franky\\n \\\"I have a problem with gambling\\\"\\n fuckin Four Fingers, you are talking\\n about Doug.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n What am I, telepathic?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Franky is good at buying stones Doug\\n but he's a fuckin liability when it\\n comes to gambling. That has cost\\n me. So in turn rit' s cost him. He\\n \",\n \" (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\\n to his wrist.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\\n\\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree\",\n \"\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body,\\n but if I see you again...well look\\n at him.\\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\\n you like.\\n\\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n We want half and that's because we\\n are being generous. We could by\\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\\n black guys are stunned into silence.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\\n who\",\n \"looking for Franky Four Fingers.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n Well he said he was going to be here.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n36 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n If there's gambling involved, he'll\\n be here.\\n They get nudged aside by an entourage of men coming through.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\",\n \" What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\\n been exposed.\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a bookies I know that will\\n take bets. If you place one down\\n for me we will call it quits.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \"The\\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\\n\\n ,, · '\\n\\n wrong way.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n What the fuck are you two doing?\\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four F\",\n \"- as Tyrone parks the van )\\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\\n\\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\\n\\n\\n WE FADE UP\\n\",\n \"metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\\n van was blocking his exit.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone\",\n \" combination you just shot.\\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\\n foot machete that he was concealing about his person. He\\n pulls the case towards him and brings the machete down with\\n full force. We can tell by the expression on Tyrone's face\\n that it must have been some part of Franky's anatomy.\\n Pointing to the ground:\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body\",\n \"So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n22 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Some guy called Bomber Harris.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n The unlicensed boxer? You know\\n something I don't?\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Maybe.\\n Doug raises his eyebrows\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n You get busy Frank\",\n \"guys trying to open the case. They have\\n Franky's hand up on a desk and are fiddling with the handcuff,\\n whatever they are trying to break in with snaps off. Vinny\\n is frustrated and illustrates his dissatisfaction.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Where ' s the Russian?\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n He should be here in a minute. Well\\n get him to open it.\\n Vinny turns to Franky who has tape over his eyes.\\n\\n VINNY (\",\n \"\\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\\n to take the case off him but i t ' s handcuffed to his wrist.\\n So he has little choice but to pick him up and throw him in\\n to the back of the car with the other two.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n40 INT. PAWN BROKERS -- DAY\\n\\n We cut to the black guys trying to open the case. They have\\n Franky's hand up on a desk and are fiddling with the handcuff,\"\n ],\n [\n \"a lamp post. They crash and the boot\\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\\n himself out. Rose Bud looks down at the sword he has been\\n extracting he can see he very nearly cut himself in two.\\n Tony pulls himself up from the steering wheel he has a trickle\\n of blood running down his face. There's a crash and a car\\n hits em from behind.\\n\\n96 INT. TYRONE'S CAR --NIGHT\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n They too are recovering from\",\n \"\\n what we must believe is coke, it's open, and Charlie has it\\n all over his nose. .\\n\\n TONY (CONT'D)\\n\\n You silly fucker, you can't go running\\n off with other people's gear. How\\n much you put up your nose?\\n Charlie opens up, he fires four shots straight into Tony who\\n buckles and falls to the floor. Tony seems only shaken and\\n he holds his hands out to inspect them, he's bleeding.\\n\\n \",\n \"'s\\n got a sharp side and a blunt side.\\n You want a lesson?\\n There is a sudden bang on the windshield and BTT turns back\\n to the front only to see the windshield covered in milk.\\n Tony can't see where he is going and searches for the\\n windshield wipers. While this is happening the car swerves\\n to the side and hits a lamp post. They crash and the boot\\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\\n himself out\",\n \"\\n Go down-boy, go down.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n47 CONTINUED:\\n\\n Tony keeps going for him. Charlie raises the gun and points\\n it at Tony's face and fires the last shot. The bullet goes\\n straight into his mouth but it went in at an angle and it\\n exits his cheek. Tony is standing there with six. bullet\\n holes in him and bleeding all over the carpet. As he talks\\n blood courses its way down his front and\",\n \"Tyrone spins in his seat and answers a little too loudly.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n I am fuckin deaf! What have you\\n done to my car?\\n They crash into the car in front. Boris the Blade comes\\n flying through the windshield.\\n\\n95 INT. BTT CAR -- NIGHT\\n\\n (This scene runs concurrently with scene 91)\\n\\n HNS\\n\\n\\n AD- .......\\n\\n How we going to get rid of\",\n \"and falls to the floor. Tony seems only shaken and\\n he holds his hands out to inspect them, he's bleeding.\\n\\n TONY (CONT'D)\\n\\n Oh you silly cunt.\\n Tony stands and walks towards Charlie. Charlie is\\n understandably shocked and fires another. It goes straight\\n through Tony and we see the blood hit the wall behind.\\n\\n CHARLIE\\n\\n Go down-boy, go down.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"one makes to move the van forward again.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Well don't move it now, otherwise\\n people will see the damage. What\\n did you do that for? ^\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n I didn't see it there.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Eh? It's a four ton truck. It' s\\n not as though i t ' s a ferret fuckin a\\n flea is it?\\n\\n TYRONE\",\n \"SOL\\n\\n Well you better start thinking Vince\\n because otherwise you'll be fuckin\\n lucky if you end up looking like\\n that.\\n\\n99 INT. BTT'S CAR .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n You alright?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n No I am about a rocket ride from\\n right Tony.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n I mean do you feel alright?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Oh\",\n \"much trouble\\n you' d be in.\\n\\n CHARLIE\\n\\n You come through that door and you'll\\n be going out prostrate.\\n\\n TONY\\n\\n It doesn't belong to you Charlie.\\n He kicks open the door. CHARLIE is standing behind his desk\\n holding a pistol directly at Tony. On the table is a bag of\\n what we must believe is coke, it's open, and Charlie has it\\n all over his nose. .\\n\\n \",\n \"behind.\\n\\n96 INT. TYRONE'S CAR --NIGHT\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n They too are recovering from the accident. And Boris has\\n now come headfirst through the windshield.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n96 CONTINUED: -\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n You idiot what have you done?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Is that Boris?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"is standing there with six. bullet\\n holes in him and bleeding all over the carpet. As he talks\\n blood courses its way down his front and a strong lisp is\\n frustrating the words.\\n\\n TONY\\n\\n Ohh you'f in twouble nowf.\\n\\n\\n\\n Tony slowly extracts a short sword from behind him. Fear\\n has set into Charlie's face and has rendered him useless.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n FADE IN:\\n\\n\\n48 INT. VANTAGE ·\\n\\n The car\",\n \"The\\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\\n\\n ,, · '\\n\\n wrong way.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n What the fuck are you two doing?\\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four F\",\n \"'D)\\n\\n Chop chop.\\n\\n\\n\\n The barman walks down the end of a bar and picks up the phone.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n What was it you did exactly Tony?\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n I had a little run in with a few of\\n the chaps.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n How ' s that ?\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n They're all brainless, they got white\\n powdered angels sitting on their\\n shoulders telling them what was\",\n \"TINUED:\\n\\n We pull back to see four slumped heads in the car and blood\\n staining the windscreen. Brick Top calmly puts the phone\\n down.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Right lets get outta here.\\n Brick Top is looking every which way and trying to get out\\n of there, accompanied by Ken.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT.'D)\\n\\n Where's the car Ken?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n KEN\\n\\n I t ' s coming\",\n \"S\\n\\n He's a sneaky fucker that Russian.\\n Well shall we go?\\n\\n BTT ·\\n\\n What you want to do about the Russian?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n I want to bury him.\\n\\n EXT. BORIS1 HOUSE\\n\\n\\n93\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Hands, Tony and Rosebud walk out.\\n\\n94 INT. TYRONE'S CAR\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The black guys witness this. Tyrone's now in the\",\n \"'t sure about this either. Vin is in a panic and\\n suddenly.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Stop! I can see it. I can see the\\n stone.\\n Hands at the point of entry stops. Vinny hops over to the\\n stone and picks it up. Tony lets the dog stand but keeps a\\n grip oh the collar. The dog is relieved to be semi-liberated.\\n Hands is still on his knees armed with an incredulous stare.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Well let's see\",\n \"makes\\n you feel any better.\\n Cut to Tony having some problems trying to get hold of the\\n awkward dog. The dog starts to squeak. Tony passes the\\n blade to Hands.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n I t ' s squeaking.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n What, you've never heard a dog squeak\\n before?... Hold him still.\\n The dog isn't sure about this either. Vin is in a panic and\\n suddenly.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Stop! I can\",\n \"abin. ..\\n\\n TONY\\n\\n Open up Charlie.\\n\\n CHARLIE\\n\\n Fuck off. The only thing I'11 open\\n up is you.\\n\\n TONY\\n\\n I t ' s lucky you .got me Charlie, it\\n could have been one of the other\\n lads, and then think how much trouble\\n you' d be in.\\n\\n CHARLIE\\n\\n You come through that door and you'll\",\n \"Tony.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n I mean do you feel alright?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Ohh yeah, I feel like I am lying on\\n the naked lap of Aphrodite, cooled\\n by the tumbling petals of spring\\n roses, how the fuck do you think I\\n feel?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n99 CONTINUED: -\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \" HANDS\\n\\n I mean open him up..\\n Tony is not sure about this.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n I t ' s not a fuckin tin of baked beans,\\n what do you mean open him up?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n I mean open him up.\\n Hands does a movement that represents a knife across the\\n throat.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n That's a bit strong isn't it?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n You wouldn't have a\"\n ],\n [\n \"The\\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\\n\\n ,, · '\\n\\n wrong way.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n What the fuck are you two doing?\\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four F\",\n \"- as Tyrone parks the van )\\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\\n\\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\\n\\n\\n WE FADE UP\\n\",\n \"of times - nothing happens, but on\\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\\n\\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\\n to take the case off him but i t ' s\",\n \"money.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n40 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I don't believe this. Why are you\\n carrying round a case with this little\\n in it? . .\\n\\n\\n\\n Vin turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\\n comp\",\n \" combination you just shot.\\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\\n foot machete that he was concealing about his person. He\\n pulls the case towards him and brings the machete down with\\n full force. We can tell by the expression on Tyrone's face\\n that it must have been some part of Franky's anatomy.\\n Pointing to the ground:\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body\",\n \"turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\\n compartment in the case.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Now be a bunch of good fellas and\\n lie down on the floor.\\n\\n\\n\\n Tyrone goes for the big gun and Franky pulls the trigger.\\n Nothing happens other than a big click, there is silence for\\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\\n eyes. :\",\n \"this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n If you need a man in London then\\n call this number.\\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n We want half and that's because we\\n are being generous. We could by\\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\\n black guys are stunned into silence.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\\n who\",\n \"backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\\n\\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\\n\\n\\n WE FADE UP\\n\\n (Time-wise, we're now at the end of scene 34)\\n Frankie wakes up. He has a trickle of blood dripping down\\n the back of his neck, he looks at his watch and panics. He\\n kicks the doors a couple of times - nothing happens, but on\\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\\n off and makes his way to the\",\n \" (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\\n to his wrist.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\\n\\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree\",\n \"\\n except the two that died of course.\\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,\",\n \"then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN DRIVER\\n looks dramatically calm.\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Pass him the money.\\n Franky hesitates for a second.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n Franky you know you have no choice.\\n So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent\",\n \"MY\\n\\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\\n Russian.\\n\\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Vin and Sol are trying to wrap Franky's body up. Bad Boy\\n Lincoln has been called in to help.\\n\\n BAD BOY LINCOLN\\n\\n What happened to him?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n He got shot in the face Lincoln, I\\n would have thought that was obvious.\\n\\n BA D BOY LINCOLN\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body,\\n but if I see you again...well look\\n at him.\\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\\n you like.\\n\\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\\n\\n\",\n \"metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\\n van was blocking his exit.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone\",\n \"DOUG\\n\\n No it's true. I can't find'him, but\\n I know a man that can.\\n Cut to a shot of Hands encouraging him to continue.\\n\\n DOUG (CONT'D)\\n\\n Tony. Bullet Tooth Tony. He'll\\n find Franky for you.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Who's he?\\n Susi interrupts.\\n\\n SUSI\\n\\n ·What is he?' Would be a more\\n appropriate\",\n \"have we got here?\\n\\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop. He walks in.\\n\\n42 INT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Franky is tied up on a stool, in front of him is the case\\n and it's open. Boris waves the black guys to come into the\\n corridor so they can talk without being heard.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n What are you doing with him?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n what we must believe is coke, it's open, and Charlie has it\\n all over his nose. .\\n\\n TONY (CONT'D)\\n\\n You silly fucker, you can't go running\\n off with other people's gear. How\\n much you put up your nose?\\n Charlie opens up, he fires four shots straight into Tony who\\n buckles and falls to the floor. Tony seems only shaken and\\n he holds his hands out to inspect them, he's bleeding.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\\n to take the case off him but i t ' s handcuffed to his wrist.\\n So he has little choice but to pick him up and throw him in\\n to the back of the car with the other two.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n40 INT. PAWN BROKERS -- DAY\\n\\n We cut to the black guys trying to open the case. They have\\n Franky's hand up on a desk and are fiddling with the handcuff,\",\n \"is FRANKY FOUR -FINGERS, (New York street\\n wise Jew) who is clutching a fancy looking briefcase which\\n is handcuffed to his wrist. He is flanked by TWO RUSSIAN\\n HOODS. This next section will be subtitled.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n How much further do we have to go?\\n Just then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN D\"\n ],\n [\n \" TURKISH '\\n\\n His mum.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Are' you taking the piss again?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n That's what he said, she's a nice\\n old girl his mum.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n You're on thin ice Turkish, and I am\\n going to be there when it breaks.\\n He puts the phone down and inhales.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n Anything for an easy\",\n \" (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n69 CONTINUED:. .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Like I said I wasn't giving you a\\n choice. I am telling you that fuckin\\n gypsy has got to fight.\\n\\n70 INT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE\\n\\n Turkish is on the other end of the phone to Brick Top. Tommy\\n is trying to listen in to what is being said.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n I am\",\n \"Brick Top. Tommy\\n is trying to listen in to what is being said.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n I am sorry, but he's a stubborn\\n bastard, he says he's had enough, he\\n says he's got to look after his old\\n mum.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n His what? ·.-· . ..\\n\\n TURKISH '\\n\\n His mum.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Are' you taking the piss\",\n \"now you can open it. .\\n There is nothing Turkish can do.\\n\\n46 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE\\n\\n Brick Top exits with Errol and John and grimaces with.the\\n light. He's holding the contents of Turkish's safe.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n He's been a busy little bastard that\\n Turkish.\\n\\n ERROL\\n\\n I think you have let him get away\\n with enough all ready gov.\\n Brick Top looks round with some concern\",\n \"ible silence between the men reflects Brick Top's\\n authority.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n Well, where did you lose him? He\\n isn't a set of fuckin car keys is\\n he? And it's not as though he is\\n inconfuckinspicuous is it?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n I am not backing out.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n You can bet your bollocks to a barn\\n dance you'\",\n \"fighter.\\n Brick Top wasn't expecting anything out of Tommy.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Oh fuck me your lady friend has got\\n a voice. And who might you be\\n changing him to, sweetheart?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You won't know him.\\n Pause: a look of you're kidding comes over his face.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Are you taking the piss?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n\",\n \"Well aren't you going to answer it?\\n Turkish does.\\n\\n45 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\\n\\n Tommy on the phone.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n45 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Brick Top's just landed, he's walking\\n in the front, I would move it if I\\n were you Turkish...\\n Turkish puts down the phone\",\n \"\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n You're going to have to repeat that.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n We have lost Gorgeous George.\\n Brick Top turns round again at the already subdued crowd, he\\n doesn't raise his voice but the crowd reacts.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n I said keep the noise down.. . .\\n A tangible silence between the men reflects Brick Top's\\n authority.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Are you taking the piss?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n No, there was an accident.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n I'll show you a fuckin accident.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You've still got your fight.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n No, I lose all bets at the bookies.\\n You can't change fighters at the\\n last minute, so no, I\",\n \"45 CONTINUED: (2)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n Carry on. You've provided me with a\\n problem, which you gonna have to\\n remedy. I gotta bare knuckle fight\\n in a couple of days. I want to use\\n the pikey.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Of course.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Of course fuckin of course, I wasn't\\n asking I was telling.\",\n \"Of course.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Of course fuckin of course, I wasn't\\n asking I was telling. But this time\\n I do want him to go down in the\\n fourth. And I do mean it this time.\\n Pause\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n Now I know you,came back. to. open\\n your safe, so now you can open it. .\\n There is nothing Turkish can do.\\n\\n46 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE\",\n \"ED:\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Look mean now you hairy fucker won't\\n ya?\\n He looks at the appalled faces of Turkish and Tommy.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n Shits itself when you put it in the\\n ring, but poke .it with a stick and\\n watch his bollocks grow. You like a\\n dog fight, Turkish?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n I like my dog to growl at the post\\n man.\\n\\n \",\n \"fight, Turkish?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n I like my dog to growl at the post\\n man.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Gorgeous ready for tonight?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n We don'c have a Gorgeous anymore.\\n Brick Top turns round and indicates that he would like the\\n noise around him to drop. It does marginally.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n You're going to have to repeat that.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n It was a rhetorical question Errol,\\n what have I told you about thinking?\\n He turns back to the brothers.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n You got forty eight hours.\\n He looks at Lincoln.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n I am going to take your man here.\\n Pointing to Tyrone.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n You can keep this silly wanker.\\n\\n \",\n \"27 INT. BACK OF PUB - DOG FIGHT -- NIGHT\\n\\n A circle of blunt faces are exchanging money with one another\\n A few faces turn round to examine Tommy and Turkish, they\\n frown slightly but carry on about their business once they\\n see they are accompanied by the muscle.\\n The heavy walks over to Brick Top. The heavy taps him on\\n the shoulder and whispers. He acknowledges, and gives his\\n drink to the heavy. He walks over. There is a cage next to\\n Brick Top which has a\",\n \"\\n Tony shrugs\\n\\n KEN\\n\\n He's pissed in my fuckin pocket,\\n look!\\n Ken shows off a wet-sided jacket and a damp set of trousers.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Do shut up Ken. That was a bit\\n naughty Tony.\\n Tony shrugs. Brick Top puts his hands in to his pocket and\\n withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Well come on, let's have a\",\n \"the pigs on the\\n remains.\\n Brick Top nods at Errol who looks extremely disappointed.\\n\\n75 INT. CAR\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BTT and Hands are driving along. Rose Bud is in the back.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n A bookies got blagged last night.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Blagged?\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n Robbed. I gotta see a man who looks\\n like he might know something, but it\\n can'\",\n \".\\n He turns his attention to Micky.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Now you know when you're going down?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Of course he knows when he's going\\n down.\\n\\n KEN\\n\\n Hey fuck face, who's speaking to\\n you? He asked him didn't he?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Fuck face? I like that, I ' l l have\\n to use that one next time -I want to\\n impress your mum Ken.\",\n \"John?\\n\\n JOHN\\n\\n Oh we don't like hostility do we\\n .Errol?\\n\\n EROL\\n\\n No John we don't, but I am sure he\\n could be pacified, what do you think\\n John? Here you hold his arms, and\\n I ' l l hold his legs.\\n In walks Brick Top before the boys have had a chance to get\\n a grip.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Brick Top.\\n\\n BR,ICK TOP\",\n \"4 CONTINUED: (-3)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We cut back to Brick Top and Hands\\n\\n HANDS -\\n\\n I 'l l pay for it, I won't pay you the\\n top fuckin whack but you'll never\\n get that anyway. You got it?\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n I can't sell you something I haven't\\n got now can I?\\n BTT returns to them - there is a scream from Ken\\n\\n KEN\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"money.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n40 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I don't believe this. Why are you\\n carrying round a case with this little\\n in it? . .\\n\\n\\n\\n Vin turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\\n comp\",\n \"- as Tyrone parks the van )\\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\\n\\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\\n\\n\\n WE FADE UP\\n\",\n \"turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\\n compartment in the case.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Now be a bunch of good fellas and\\n lie down on the floor.\\n\\n\\n\\n Tyrone goes for the big gun and Franky pulls the trigger.\\n Nothing happens other than a big click, there is silence for\\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\\n eyes. :\",\n \"of times - nothing happens, but on\\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\\n\\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\\n to take the case off him but i t ' s\",\n \" (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\\n to his wrist.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\\n\\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree\",\n \"\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body,\\n but if I see you again...well look\\n at him.\\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\\n you like.\\n\\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\\n\\n\",\n \"have we got here?\\n\\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop. He walks in.\\n\\n42 INT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Franky is tied up on a stool, in front of him is the case\\n and it's open. Boris waves the black guys to come into the\\n corridor so they can talk without being heard.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n What are you doing with him?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n \",\n \"looking for Franky Four Fingers.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n Well he said he was going to be here.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n36 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n If there's gambling involved, he'll\\n be here.\\n They get nudged aside by an entourage of men coming through.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\",\n \"name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Boris, Boris can get you anything\\n you need.\\n\\n CUT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n :\\n\\n\\n3 INT. LONDON - AMUSEMENT ARCADE -- DAY\\n\\n\\n C UT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We are in the back room\",\n \"metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\\n van was blocking his exit.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone\",\n \"then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN DRIVER\\n looks dramatically calm.\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Pass him the money.\\n Franky hesitates for a second.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n Franky you know you have no choice.\\n So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent\",\n \"this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n If you need a man in London then\\n call this number.\\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\",\n \"\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I want you to do something for me .\\n Franky nods for him to go on .\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky:\",\n \"UN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n The weight is a sign of reliability.\\n I always go for reliability.\\n Boris is showing Franky a large pistol.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I ' l l take it. How much do you want\\n for -it?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Nothing.\\n Pause\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\\n\\n BORIS\",\n \"\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n We want half and that's because we\\n are being generous. We could by\\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\\n black guys are stunned into silence.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\\n who\",\n \"backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\\n\\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\\n\\n\\n WE FADE UP\\n\\n (Time-wise, we're now at the end of scene 34)\\n Frankie wakes up. He has a trickle of blood dripping down\\n the back of his neck, he looks at his watch and panics. He\\n kicks the doors a couple of times - nothing happens, but on\\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\\n off and makes his way to the\",\n \"The\\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\\n\\n ,, · '\\n\\n wrong way.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n What the fuck are you two doing?\\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four F\",\n \" combination you just shot.\\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\\n foot machete that he was concealing about his person. He\\n pulls the case towards him and brings the machete down with\\n full force. We can tell by the expression on Tyrone's face\\n that it must have been some part of Franky's anatomy.\\n Pointing to the ground:\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body\",\n \"DOUG\\n\\n No it's true. I can't find'him, but\\n I know a man that can.\\n Cut to a shot of Hands encouraging him to continue.\\n\\n DOUG (CONT'D)\\n\\n Tony. Bullet Tooth Tony. He'll\\n find Franky for you.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Who's he?\\n Susi interrupts.\\n\\n SUSI\\n\\n ·What is he?' Would be a more\\n appropriate\",\n \"face. Go on\\n try it.\\n Tommy sticks the gun out the window and pulls the trigger.\\n Nothing happens.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINU ED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n67 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Whoops.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\\n Russian.\\n\\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BRO\"\n ],\n [\n \"money.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n40 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I don't believe this. Why are you\\n carrying round a case with this little\\n in it? . .\\n\\n\\n\\n Vin turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\\n comp\",\n \"turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\\n compartment in the case.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Now be a bunch of good fellas and\\n lie down on the floor.\\n\\n\\n\\n Tyrone goes for the big gun and Franky pulls the trigger.\\n Nothing happens other than a big click, there is silence for\\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\\n eyes. :\",\n \"UN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n The weight is a sign of reliability.\\n I always go for reliability.\\n Boris is showing Franky a large pistol.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I ' l l take it. How much do you want\\n for -it?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Nothing.\\n Pause\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\\n\\n BORIS\",\n \"this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n If you need a man in London then\\n call this number.\\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\",\n \" (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\\n to his wrist.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\\n\\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree\",\n \"\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I want you to do something for me .\\n Franky nods for him to go on .\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky:\",\n \"of times - nothing happens, but on\\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\\n\\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\\n to take the case off him but i t ' s\",\n \"then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN DRIVER\\n looks dramatically calm.\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Pass him the money.\\n Franky hesitates for a second.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n Franky you know you have no choice.\\n So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent\",\n \"have we got here?\\n\\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop. He walks in.\\n\\n42 INT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Franky is tied up on a stool, in front of him is the case\\n and it's open. Boris waves the black guys to come into the\\n corridor so they can talk without being heard.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n What are you doing with him?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n \",\n \"metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\\n van was blocking his exit.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone\",\n \"- as Tyrone parks the van )\\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\\n\\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\\n\\n\\n WE FADE UP\\n\",\n \"The\\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\\n\\n ,, · '\\n\\n wrong way.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n What the fuck are you two doing?\\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four F\",\n \" combination you just shot.\\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\\n foot machete that he was concealing about his person. He\\n pulls the case towards him and brings the machete down with\\n full force. We can tell by the expression on Tyrone's face\\n that it must have been some part of Franky's anatomy.\\n Pointing to the ground:\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n C UT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We are in the back room of an amusement arcade and can hear\\n fruit machines beeping in the distance. Meet BORIS THE BLADE\\n and TOMMY who is toying with a heavy-looking revolver.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It's a bit heavy isn't it Boris?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Heavy is good. Heavy is reliable.\\n If it doesn't work you can\",\n \"name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Boris, Boris can get you anything\\n you need.\\n\\n CUT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n :\\n\\n\\n3 INT. LONDON - AMUSEMENT ARCADE -- DAY\\n\\n\\n C UT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We are in the back room\",\n \"\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n We want half and that's because we\\n are being generous. We could by\\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\\n black guys are stunned into silence.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\\n who\",\n \"in your\\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\\n your trousers?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It's for protection.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Protection from what, the Germans?\\n The war ended fifty years ago. Err\\n what's to stop it blowing your balls\\n off every time you sit down? Where\\n did you get it?\\nLooking down onto his gun.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Boris the Blade.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n \",\n \"looking for Franky Four Fingers.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n Well he said he was going to be here.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n36 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n If there's gambling involved, he'll\\n be here.\\n They get nudged aside by an entourage of men coming through.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\",\n \"So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \" What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\\n been exposed.\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a bookies I know that will\\n take bets. If you place one down\\n for me we will call it quits.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n If you need a man in London then\\n call this number.\\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\",\n \"\\n How much can he lose?\\n Hands pulls a face like \\\"what kind of a stupid question is\\n that?\\\" He them starts to shout\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n I ' l l not forgive you Doug, I am coming\\n over, get me that car.\\n The phone is slammed down.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n\\n25 EXT. AIRPLANE --\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We see the undercarriage of Concorde taking off.\\n\\n26 INT. BR\",\n \"He touches the side of his nose and inhales.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Original.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n So he doesn't need to do this, but\\n he's got dark taste for fights and\\n blood, he wants to impress London's\\n criminal royalty..\\n He points out JACK \\\"THE ALL SEEING EYE\\\" and SALT PETER:\\n they are surrounded by heavies.\\n\\n DOUG (CONT'D)\\n\\n ..with\",\n \"29 CONTINUED ·\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n DOUG (CONT'D)\\n\\n Cars are his religion. He can drive\\n a Valiant in the States but I can't\\n drive a Vantage because they won't\\n tolerate the emissions. Well, it's\\n too late now, that's Concorde.\\n\\n SHOT OF CONCORDE'S WHEELS TOUCHING DOWN\\n\\n\\n30 EXT. AIRPORT -- DAY\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n This job does have prospects after\\n all, you travel to pretty places,\\n meet interesting people.\\n Btt looks at who Mullet is talking to, the man has a try\\n hard mustache and interjects.\\n\\n MAN\\n\\n Who the fuck gave you such a big\\n mouth?\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n Someone whom you might shortly meet.\\n\\n MAN\\n\\n You threatening me?\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n Only with wings and a\",\n \"\\n counter and a security screen comes flying up at a very rapid\\n rate of knots protecting all the counters. This has the\\n unfortunate consequence of taking Vinny with it. Poor Vin\\n is shot straight to the ceiling, all we can see is half a\\n body and his desperately searching for ground legs. Needless\\n to say this leaves Sol in a bit of a bewildered state. He's\\n looking the wrong way at the critical moment and is left\\n wondering what happened, not having seen Vince impaled on\\n the ceiling. Sol extracts the enormous\",\n \" I want two sugars in my tea. What\\n do you want John?\\n\\n JOHN\\n\\n I want to see him lying cold and\\n still, but we aren't here for what\\n we want are we Errol?\\n Errol shakes his head slowly. Turkish's phone rings. They\\n let it ring for a while.\\n\\n ERROL\\n\\n Well aren't you going to answer it?\\n Turkish does.\\n\\n45 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LOND\",\n \"pulls it\\n out and puts his hand through to kill the alarm. He's in.\\n\\n - ERROL\\n\\n You coming John?\\n\\n JOHN\\n\\n Is a trout's head water proof Errol?\\n I wouldn't miss it for the world.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n71 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n ERROL\\n\\n Get the governor John.\\n John goes back\",\n \". This is digested\\n literally and mentally. The dog recognizes all the attention\\n it's receiving. And goes through the motions of swallowing\\n it. Hands attempts an approach. The dog understandably\\n feels uncomfortable about the advancing vanguard and decides\\n emergency action is needed, and seeing the open window\\n launches itself out of it.\\n\\n FADE TO BLACK\\n\\n\\n FADE UP\\n\\n\\n124 EXT. CARAVAN CAMP SITE ;\\n\\n The pikies have moved\",\n \"just landed, he's walking\\n in the front, I would move it if I\\n were you Turkish...\\n Turkish puts down the phone\\n\\n ERROL\\n\\n What's happening with the tea?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Help yourself. You have to every\\n thing else.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n ERROL\\n\\n That sounds like hostility, doesn't\\n it John?\\n\\n JOHN\\n\\n Oh we don't like hostility do we\\n .Errol?\\n\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Play the game Doug.\\n\\n11 INT. DOUG'S OFFICE\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n DOUG THE HEAD is an east London Jew, about forty five, almost\\n completely bald and proud of it, he sits with his two twin\\n daughters ALEX and SUSI - they look like Prada models but as\\n soon as they open their mouths, it's clear that they aren't,\\n they have extremely rough London accents. Doug is on the\\n phone to Hands.\\n\",\n \" (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\\n to his wrist.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\\n\\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree\",\n \"'s\\n got a sharp side and a blunt side.\\n You want a lesson?\\n There is a sudden bang on the windshield and BTT turns back\\n to the front only to see the windshield covered in milk.\\n Tony can't see where he is going and searches for the\\n windshield wipers. While this is happening the car swerves\\n to the side and hits a lamp post. They crash and the boot\\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\\n himself out\",\n \"metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\\n van was blocking his exit.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone\",\n \"till you see what the pigs\\n do to you.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n What brings you two here, run out of\\n pants to sniff?\\n\\n ERROL\\n\\n That's very good Turkish.\\n\\n JOHN\\n\\n Very cool Turkish.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Well what do you want?\\n\\n EROL\\n\\n I want two sugars in my tea. What\\n do you want John?\\n\\n JOHN\\n\\n I want to\",\n \"him on his own, not\\n to begin with, he gets homesick.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Homesick, for fucks sake.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n He does. If he gets the chance he\\n runs back to the gypsies' campsite.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Ohh shut up, how can he find it?\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I don't know Sol, I am not a dog.\\n Ask him. It' s like he's got a fuckin\\n \",\n \"without being heard.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n What are you doing with him?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n The case was attached to his body.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n So why didn't you chop it off?\\n Sol looks horrified by the thought.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Err, because we didn't. Now Boris\\n we have or rather you have a problem.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n What?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \"Err. .\\n\\n ERROL\\n\\n I t 's because people are scared of\\n him. You know why they are scared\\n of him?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Err .\\n\\n ERROL\\n\\n It's because of stories. I am sure\\n you've heard one or two of those\\n stories. For example, did you hear\\n about the three black fellas that\\n did a very bad thing, however they\\n made some effort to redeem that very\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n He's your problem now. You can keep\\n the\\\" ten grand along with the body,\\n but if I see you again...well look\\n at him.\\n He points to Franky. While he is saying this he bends down\\n and picks up the case from the floor and wraps the severed\\n arm in newspaper. He then walks out of the shop casual as\\n you like.\\n\\n43 EXT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE LONDON -- MORNING\\n\\n\",\n \"Y\\n\\n Well he's didn't come back to us.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n But he always came back.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Well you might have noticed that we\\n have moved, you should have fed him\\n more, a dog will never leave you if\\n you feed it properly. It was a good\\n dog, he had a little flatulence\\n problem but was a good dog.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Are you sure he's not here?\\n\\n MICK\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n119 INT. BACK OF WAREHOUSE\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Brick Top is standing in front of Micky whose eyes are still\\n semi open.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n What's wrong with you? You stoned?\\n Is he fuckin stoned?\\n\\n TURKISH . -\\n\\n He's like that before a fight.\\n He turns his attention to Micky.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Now you know when you're going down?\",\n \".\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Are you taking the piss?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n No, there was an accident.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n I'll show you a fuckin accident.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You've still got your fight.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n No, I lose all bets at the bookies.\\n You can't change fighters at the\\n last minute, so no, I\",\n \"\\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \\\"good night\\\" is\\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches his\\n opponent's knees threaten to betray him. The crowd tries to\\n digest what is happening. After a period of silence reality\\n dawns. Brick Top mouths the words in silence.\\\"Don1t go down\\n you fucker\\\". The crowd wants Micky to finish the job. But\\n common sense reins back the coup de grace. \\\"Good night\\\"\\n eventually regains control of his legs and stumbles\",\n \" (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n69 CONTINUED:. .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Like I said I wasn't giving you a\\n choice. I am telling you that fuckin\\n gypsy has got to fight.\\n\\n70 INT. AMUSEMENT ARCADE\\n\\n Turkish is on the other end of the phone to Brick Top. Tommy\\n is trying to listen in to what is being said.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n I am\",\n \"in his fighter.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n Feed em to the pigs Errol.\\n With a short beat.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n He's looking good, Bomber, is he\\n not? How's their man getting on?\\n We whip pan off Brick Top's boxing ring...\\n\\n8 EXT. ANOTHER BACK ALLEY MAKESHIFT BOXING RING - - DAY\\n\\n ...And the\",\n \" concerned for his mum. Pause as Micky waits for her to be\\n well gone.\\n\\n MICKY (CONT'D)\\n\\n I ' l l fight you for it.\\n\\n\\n\\n Tommy looks at Gorgeous George. Gorgeous George raises his\\n eyebrows.\\n\\n20 INT. HORSE BOX, PIKEY CAMP -- DAY\\n\\n The two fighters start pacing. It looks a bit ridiculous,\\n Micky is dwarfed by comparison. Gorgeous George takes a\\n swipe\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n118 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n KEN\\n\\n Yeah they are there.\\n Cut to a shot of some of Brick Top's heavies waiting in a\\n car outside the campsite.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Where's that fuckin pikey?\\n\\n119 INT. BACK OF WAREHOUSE\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Brick Top is standing in front of Micky whose eyes\",\n \"\\n\\n So Michael, you got it clear? It's\\n the fourth round. I'll tap you anyway\\n to let you know when to go down.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n36 CONTINUED: ( 2 )\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Just make sure the man doesn't kill\\n me before the fuckin fourth.\\n\\n CUT TO:BRICK TOP\",\n \" out on their children's backs.\\n Cut to a shot of Brick Top's boys lighting a cigarette in\\n the car outside the pikies.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n120 INT. WAREHOUSE\\n\\n Micky appears from a small door at the back of the warehouse.\\n He approaches the ring accompanied with shouts of\\n encouragement and counter shouts. He's wearing a pair of\\n semi cut tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt with grease marks\\n down the front. Turkish walks behind him, Micky still looks\\n\",\n \"27 INT. BACK OF PUB - DOG FIGHT -- NIGHT\\n\\n A circle of blunt faces are exchanging money with one another\\n A few faces turn round to examine Tommy and Turkish, they\\n frown slightly but carry on about their business once they\\n see they are accompanied by the muscle.\\n The heavy walks over to Brick Top. The heavy taps him on\\n the shoulder and whispers. He acknowledges, and gives his\\n drink to the heavy. He walks over. There is a cage next to\\n Brick Top which has a\",\n \"catches a look of\\n desperation from one of the villains and is eventually left\\n with little choice but to hold Micky's hand up. We cut to\\n the nasty looking characters that we saw before they have\\n approached with their heavies, and they are obviously not\\n satisfied. .\\n\\n SALT PETER\\n\\n Tha-nks for the tip, Brick top.\\n\\n JACK THE ALL SEEING EYE\\n\\n I have just said goodbye to forty\\n large because of you\",\n \"goes on for two rounds (which is montage down to a few\\n seconds). We go in the mind of poor Micky. We break the\\n music just as it's starting to look dangerous... The bell\\n goes and Micky walks to the wrong corner. Turkish pulls him\\n back to his corner.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n They are on ya. You got to hurt him\\n Micky. Otherwise we are\\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\",\n \"fighter.\\n Brick Top wasn't expecting anything out of Tommy.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Oh fuck me your lady friend has got\\n a voice. And who might you be\\n changing him to, sweetheart?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You won't know him.\\n Pause: a look of you're kidding comes over his face.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Are you taking the piss?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n\",\n \"ED:\\n\\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is positively out\\n cold. We crashtrack into various characters' reactions:\\n Brick Top, Turkish and Tommy etc. All are in shock. The\\n ref (who is obviously paid off as well) tries to resuscitate\\n Harris/ but it's not happening, he catches a look of\\n desperation from one of the villains and is eventually left\\n with little choice but to hold Micky's hand\",\n \"He acknowledges, and gives his\\n drink to the heavy. He walks over. There is a cage next to\\n Brick Top which has a pit bull in, and Brick Top who is\\n carrying a cane pokes it through the cage doors. The dog\\n snarls back.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n27 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Look mean now you hairy fucker won't\\n ya?\\n He\",\n \" THE REFF\\n\\n Alright lads no eye gouging no biting.\\n Do your worst. Back to your corners.\\n\\n\\n\\n We drift again into Micky's pov, his world is becoming more\\n and more surreal. He can faintly hear Turkish whispering\\n words to him, but he's not really listening. A bell comes\\n from somewhere, and Micky instinctively walks to the center\\n of the ring. \\\"Good night\\\" is already there, they pace one\\n another for a second or two, Micky\",\n \"RING -- DAY\\n\\n BRICK TOP (aka MR MCLEAN) is a heavy looking fella. He is\\n observing a giant of a man, BOMBER HARRIS, boxing a sparring\\n partner.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Two hundred and sixty pounds, that's\\n fucking pedigree pal.\\n He's talking to LIAM and GARY, a couple of employees.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n He doesn't look bad does he?\\n\\n\",\n \", I lose all bets at the bookies.\\n You can't change fighters at the\\n last minute, so no, I don't have my\\n fight do I, you fuckin prat!\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n You could take bets at the fight.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Put a lead on her Turkish, Before\\n she gets bitten.\\n Pause\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n Make sure your man goes down in the\",\n \"walks to the center\\n of the ring. \\\"Good night\\\" is already there, they pace one\\n another for a second or two, Micky avoids a punch or two and\\n then he takes a hard one and he knows it, we flash to white,\\n Micky's in trouble: he lets one of his missiles go and BANG\\n it shakes \\\"good night\\\" to his core, all goes quiet. We go\\n to super slow motion: his knees buckle and \\\"good night\\\" is\\n in trouble. Micky maintains a frown as he watches\",\n \"45 CONTINUED: (2)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n Carry on. You've provided me with a\\n problem, which you gonna have to\\n remedy. I gotta bare knuckle fight\\n in a couple of days. I want to use\\n the pikey.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Of course.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Of course fuckin of course, I wasn't\\n asking I was telling.\"\n ],\n [\n \"looking for Franky Four Fingers.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n Well he said he was going to be here.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n36 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n If there's gambling involved, he'll\\n be here.\\n They get nudged aside by an entourage of men coming through.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\",\n \"\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Ok, so what do you want for it?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I want you to do something for me .\\n Franky nods for him to go on .\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a fight in a couple of days:\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky:\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n22 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Some guy called Bomber Harris.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n The unlicensed boxer? You know\\n something I don't?\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Maybe.\\n Doug raises his eyebrows\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n You get busy Frank\",\n \"this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n If you need a man in London then\\n call this number.\\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\",\n \"\\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\\n to take the case off him but i t ' s handcuffed to his wrist.\\n So he has little choice but to pick him up and throw him in\\n to the back of the car with the other two.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n40 INT. PAWN BROKERS -- DAY\\n\\n We cut to the black guys trying to open the case. They have\\n Franky's hand up on a desk and are fiddling with the handcuff,\",\n \"- as Tyrone parks the van )\\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\\n\\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\\n\\n\\n WE FADE UP\\n\",\n \"several other doorman who all\\n inspect the ticket.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Jesus are we ever going to get in\\n there?\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n You gotta understand that this isn't\\n exactly Vegas and it's not exactly\\n legal.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n I am not looking for Vegas, Doug, I\\n am looking for Franky Four Fingers.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n Well he said he was going to be here.\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n JACK THE ALL SEEING EYE\\n\\n I have just said goodbye to forty\\n large because of you, what's the\\n crack?\\n\\n :\\n\\n\\n38 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES -- DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (NB: the first half of this scene happens about midway scene\\n 28 - as Tyrone parks the van )\\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\\n He takes a\",\n \"metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four Fingers appears from the back of this ·\\n van. He was locked in due to the fact that the black guys'\\n van was blocking his exit.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n34 CONTINUED: (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone\",\n \"y's in a rush.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I got stones to sell, fat to chew\\n and many different men to see about\\n many different dogs, so if I am not\\n rushing you, could you spit shine\\n the top of your smoothie and move a\\n little faster?\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n Hold tight Franky, when in Rome.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I am not in Rome Doug, I am in a\\n \",\n \"of times - nothing happens, but on\\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\\n\\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\\n to take the case off him but i t ' s\",\n \"is FRANKY FOUR -FINGERS, (New York street\\n wise Jew) who is clutching a fancy looking briefcase which\\n is handcuffed to his wrist. He is flanked by TWO RUSSIAN\\n HOODS. This next section will be subtitled.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n How much further do we have to go?\\n Just then the car comes to a standstill. The window is wound\\n down and a gun barrel is stuck through. The RUSSIAN D\",\n \"DOUG\\n\\n Yes.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n And he's gone gambling? That's Franky\\n \\\"I have a problem with gambling\\\"\\n fuckin Four Fingers, you are talking\\n about Doug.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n What am I, telepathic?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Franky is good at buying stones Doug\\n but he's a fuckin liability when it\\n comes to gambling. That has cost\\n me. So in turn rit' s cost him. He\\n \",\n \"ANDS\\n\\n Yeah, Doug the Head. But get some\\n security. I mean it, get it today,\\n speak to those Russians, they can\\n get you anything. And. . .\\n\\n\\n\\n Dramatic pause\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n And what?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n No fuckin around in any casinos, you\\n hear me? You've done a good job\\n Franky, don't go and fuck it up.\\n\\n FRANKY FO\",\n \" What kind of a fight?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Unlicensed boxing.\\n The camera tracks into Franky: he has a problem and it's\\n been exposed.\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n There is a bookies I know that will\\n take bets. If you place one down\\n for me we will call it quits.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Why don't you put it down yourself?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n \",\n \" job. What time you back?\\n\\n FRANK Y FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I gotta move the smaller stones here;\\n it shouldn't take me long. I ' l l be\\n a couple of days.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Speak to my cousin Doug.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Doug the Head?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Yeah, Doug the Head. But get some\\n security. I mean it, get it today,\\n speak to those Russians\",\n \"So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"turns to Sol and Tyrone who is leaning on the big shotgun\\n At which point Franky pulls out the gun from the secret\\n compartment in the case.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Now be a bunch of good fellas and\\n lie down on the floor.\\n\\n\\n\\n Tyrone goes for the big gun and Franky pulls the trigger.\\n Nothing happens other than a big click, there is silence for\\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\\n eyes. :\",\n \" (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\\n to his wrist.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\\n\\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree\",\n \"me? You've done a good job\\n Franky, don't go and fuck it up.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I hear ya Hands. I see ya Hands.\\n The phone goes down and Hands looks up at a COLLEAGUE.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n He's got it.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n6 INT. BORIS1 HOUSE\\n\\n On the phone subtitled\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\\n Yes he's got it.\"\n ],\n [\n \"the window and the car\\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n2 CONTINUED:\\n\\n Franky opens the package and he reveals a stone the size of\\n a fist. He shines a torch onto it and puts a stone inspectin\\n monocle to his eye. He's satisfied.\\n\\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX\",\n \"diamond\\n dealer. He catches a coin.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Twenty carats?\\n\\n5 INT. HEATHROW AIRPORT -- DAY\\n\\n Franky's on the phone.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Best stone I've seen in years.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Good man Franky, you done a good\\n job. What time you back?\\n\\n FRANK Y FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I gotta move the smaller stones here;\",\n \" SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\\n\\n\\n TAKES US SEAMLESSLY INTO ANOTHER SHOT AND SET UP. THIS GOES\\n\\n\\n ON FOR THE DURATION OF THE CREDITS. CUT BACK TO:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Franky Four Fingers opens a fancy case, presses a hidden\\n catch, this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The\",\n \"this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n If you need a man in London then\\n call this number.\\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\",\n \"eye. He's satisfied.\\n\\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX TO: ANOTHER\\n\\n\\n DIAMOND BEING HELD BY AN OVERWEIGHT BLACK MAN. CUT TO: MONTAG\\n\\n\\n INVOLVING ALL THE CHARACTERS IN THE FILM. DEALING OR HAVING\\n\\n\\n SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\\n\\n\\n TAKES US SEAM\",\n \"withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Well come on, let's have a look.\\n Brick Top passes the stone to Hands. All goes quiet while\\n everybody focuses on the stone. Hands lifts it up to his\\n eye.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\\n\\n What are you playing at? -\\n He drops the stone: it smashes on the ground.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\\n\\n It's a zircon\",\n \" BORIS\\n\\n I ' l l toss the coin.\\n He tosses the coin\\n\\n CUT TO: CU OF SPINNING COIN\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n4 INT. NEW YORK_OFFICE -- DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n CUT TO :CU OF SPINNING COIN\\n\\n Meet HANDS. On the phone. Cool young street wise NY diamond\\n dealer. He catches a coin.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Twenty carats?\\n\\n5 INT. HE\",\n \" Top's office.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n I gotta say you have got some front\\n coming round here Tone, you know the\\n lads are picking straws. . .\\n Interrupted\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n You gotta diamond and it doesn't\\n belong to you, it belongs to my\\n colleague here.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n That's what I love about you Tone,\\n no small talk.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n\",\n \"DOUG\\n\\n Yes.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n And he's gone gambling? That's Franky\\n \\\"I have a problem with gambling\\\"\\n fuckin Four Fingers, you are talking\\n about Doug.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n What am I, telepathic?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Franky is good at buying stones Doug\\n but he's a fuckin liability when it\\n comes to gambling. That has cost\\n me. So in turn rit' s cost him. He\\n \",\n \"S OFFICE -- DAY\\n\\n Doug the Head and Franky Four Fingers are doing a deal.\\n Doug has a case open and is admiring a couple of stones.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n From Russia with love. You\\n interested? .\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n I told you I was interested.\\n Pause. Franky's in a rush.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I got stones to sell, fat to che\",\n \"other than a big click, there is silence for\\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\\n eyes. :\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n Whoops.\\n Tyrone also looks into the case and sees the. open secret\\n compartment: this also reveals the stone.\\n\\n TYRONE (CONT'D)\\n\\n Hello what have we got here?\\n\\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop\",\n \"DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Meet SOL, who's behind the counter, Vinny's partner in the\\n pawn shop. He's concentrating on the deal at hand with BAD\\n BOY LINCOLN and has a stone-inspecting monocle to his eye.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Alright Sol, Lincoln.\\n They are in deep discussion and only Lincoln responds.\\n\\n B AD BOY LINCOLN\\n\\n Vin.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n It\",\n \"He touches the side of his nose and inhales.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Original.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n So he doesn't need to do this, but\\n he's got dark taste for fights and\\n blood, he wants to impress London's\\n criminal royalty..\\n He points out JACK \\\"THE ALL SEEING EYE\\\" and SALT PETER:\\n they are surrounded by heavies.\\n\\n DOUG (CONT'D)\\n\\n ..with\",\n \".\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Play the game Doug.\\n\\n11 INT. DOUG'S OFFICE\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n DOUG THE HEAD is an east London Jew, about forty five, almost\\n completely bald and proud of it, he sits with his two twin\\n daughters ALEX and SUSI - they look like Prada models but as\\n soon as they open their mouths, it's clear that they aren't,\\n they have extremely rough London accents. Doug is on the\\n phone to Hands.\\n\",\n \"\\n Go on.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n I want you to hold up a bookies.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n How high do you want us to hold it?\\n Steady on George. We deal in\\n jewellery Boris, we don't hold up\\n bookies.\\n We can hear Vinny in the background\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Hear me out. This one is different.\\n\\n14 INT. TOMMY'S VAN -- DAY\",\n \"So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"black guys are stunned into silence.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\\n who I am. Now open the case and\\n give me.the stone.\\n The black guys are left with their mouths open, everything\\n just changed gear and they weren't expecting that.\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n Who's next? You have the ten grand\\n now give me the stone.\\n The pause continues. Boris lets a shot off that tears\\n worryingly close to\",\n \"it's clear that they aren't,\\n they have extremely rough London accents. Doug is on the\\n phone to Hands.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n I am playing the game Hands. That's\\n what I ' l l give ya.\\n Hands shakes his head in disbelief.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n You gotta haggle fairly Doug,\\n otherwise it'll make your hair fall\\n out you'll see. .\\n\\n DOUG\\n\",\n \" (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\\n to his wrist.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\\n\\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree\",\n \"\\n there wasn't much but, here's ten\\n large to help the situation.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I am afraid it's too late for that\\n Boris. -\\n He holds up the diamond. Boris1 eyes follow him as he walks\\n back into the room where Franky is and puts the diamond back\\n into the case while he's talking and changes the combination.\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n We want half and that's because we\\n are being generous. We could\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n except the two that died of course.\\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,\",\n \"Micky. Otherwise we are\\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\\n Micky goes out again his hands are low, BANG there is a flash\\n of white as Micky goes down in the dirt. Dust rises from\\n where he fell. He gets up quickly, his hands are still low,\\n BANG he goes down again, in no time he's up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n120 CONT\",\n \"\\n\\n We see Turkish with a somewhat serious expression on his\\n face he has his customary pint of milk on one side, he takes\\n a sip and \\\"ohhhs\\\" and \\\"arrrs\\\" for a while.\\n\\n .TURKISH\\n\\n So you're telling me he would have\\n run you through if Gorgeous hadn't\\n woken up?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\\n fuck\",\n \"\\n Go down-boy, go down.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n47 CONTINUED:\\n\\n Tony keeps going for him. Charlie raises the gun and points\\n it at Tony's face and fires the last shot. The bullet goes\\n straight into his mouth but it went in at an angle and it\\n exits his cheek. Tony is standing there with six. bullet\\n holes in him and bleeding all over the carpet. As he talks\\n blood courses its way down his front and\",\n \"see change.\\nHe is distracted by the bulge in Tommy's trouser front.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Fuck me, hold tight, what's that?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It's my Gucci belt, Turkish.\\nPointing quite clearly at the gun.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n No Tommy, there's a gun in your\\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\\n your trousers?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It\",\n \" shattering bullet-proof glass all around them. Vinny's panic\\n filled eyes attempt to follow its trajectory. Sol is unaware\\n of the ricochet and before Vin has time to warn him, Sol\\n fires another bullet. Now he observes the problem and waits\\n for the inevitable. The bullet tears through the bag of\\n coins, which then empties its contents at Vin's and Sol's\\n feet. Eventually the bullet hits poor Vince in the thigh.\\n Sol sinks to the floor, he has given up. Amongst the yells\",\n \"ED:\\n\\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is positively out\\n cold. We crashtrack into various characters' reactions:\\n Brick Top, Turkish and Tommy etc. All are in shock. The\\n ref (who is obviously paid off as well) tries to resuscitate\\n Harris/ but it's not happening, he catches a look of\\n desperation from one of the villains and is eventually left\\n with little choice but to hold Micky's hand\",\n \"face. Go on\\n try it.\\n Tommy sticks the gun out the window and pulls the trigger.\\n Nothing happens.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINU ED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n67 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Whoops.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\\n Russian.\\n\\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BRO\",\n \"in your\\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\\n your trousers?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It's for protection.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Protection from what, the Germans?\\n The war ended fifty years ago. Err\\n what's to stop it blowing your balls\\n off every time you sit down? Where\\n did you get it?\\nLooking down onto his gun.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Boris the Blade.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n \",\n \"ROL\\n\\n Eh?\\n\\n MULLET\\n\\n Bounty, black on the outside, white\\n on the inside.\\n\\n JOHN\\n\\n Go on.\\n\\n MULLET\\n\\n He was doing a job for a couple of\\n brothers in Smith Street. I think\\n it was a pawn shop.\\n\\n JOHN\\n\\n Porn as in filthy dirty?\\n i\\n\\n MULLET\\n\\n Pawn as in\",\n \"ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,\\n Lincoln and Sol are left wondering what the fuck has just\\n happened .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n111 CONTINUED: (2)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n BAD BOY LINCOLN ,\\n\\n Grab it.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n What?\",\n \" They\\n burnt his mam.\\n All real sound recedes and we drift in to music. The camera\\n slowly tracks in on Micky. It's hard to read how devastated\\n he is. The camera reaches Micky's face, the reflections of\\n the flames can be seen in his water swollen eyes, but his\\n cheeks remain dry. .\\n\\n82 INT. BTT CAR\\n\\n BTT is driving, Hands in the passenger seat and Rose Bud in\\n the back. BTT's got a bleeding eye\",\n \" kill the bastard.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n You really think he can find him?\\n\\n SUSI\\n\\n He'll find you Moses and the burning\\n bush if you pay him to.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Ok so let's get hold of him.\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n Firstly you gotta understand he's a\\n little strange. .\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n .He could swing from trees wearing\\n \",\n \"ly?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You're not exactly Mr Current Affairs,\\n are you Tommy? Mad Fist went mad,\\n and the \\\"Gun\\\" shot himself.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n What about Clam Hand Tony?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Got his fingers caught in the till.\\n He's no good to anyone.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Why not?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\",\n \"Sol points at the man on the floor who is carrying the case.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n Let me see your hands.\\n The man holds his hands up. He has got a perfect set of\\n five fingers on both hands. Sol puts his head in his hands.\\n Pauline and the other clerk put two bags full of coins on\\n the counter. Sol picks them up and frowns, he's not happy\\n with a bag full of change. He puts his gun down and starts\\n to rifle through the bag. Pauline\",\n \"\\n counter and a security screen comes flying up at a very rapid\\n rate of knots protecting all the counters. This has the\\n unfortunate consequence of taking Vinny with it. Poor Vin\\n is shot straight to the ceiling, all we can see is half a\\n body and his desperately searching for ground legs. Needless\\n to say this leaves Sol in a bit of a bewildered state. He's\\n looking the wrong way at the critical moment and is left\\n wondering what happened, not having seen Vince impaled on\\n the ceiling. Sol extracts the enormous\",\n \"\\n Tony shrugs\\n\\n KEN\\n\\n He's pissed in my fuckin pocket,\\n look!\\n Ken shows off a wet-sided jacket and a damp set of trousers.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Do shut up Ken. That was a bit\\n naughty Tony.\\n Tony shrugs. Brick Top puts his hands in to his pocket and\\n withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Well come on, let's have a\",\n \"1 EXT. CARAVAN, PIKEY CAMPSITE\\n\\n Darren picks up the phone.\\n\\n DAREN .\\n\\n If you would you like to speak to\\n your friends, you'll have to speak a\\n little -louder.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n121 CONTINUED:\\n\\n We pull back to see four slumped heads in the car and blood\\n staining the windscreen. Brick\",\n \"\\n\\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\\n fuckin sausages.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n What were you thinking of? Why the\\n fuck did you put Gorgeous George\\n into a bare knuckle boxing match two\\n days before he had to fight the\\n Bomber?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n He was half his size.\\n He pantomimes a man that would reach his navel\\n\\n T\",\n \"\\n what we must believe is coke, it's open, and Charlie has it\\n all over his nose. .\\n\\n TONY (CONT'D)\\n\\n You silly fucker, you can't go running\\n off with other people's gear. How\\n much you put up your nose?\\n Charlie opens up, he fires four shots straight into Tony who\\n buckles and falls to the floor. Tony seems only shaken and\\n he holds his hands out to inspect them, he's bleeding.\\n\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \" SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\\n\\n\\n TAKES US SEAMLESSLY INTO ANOTHER SHOT AND SET UP. THIS GOES\\n\\n\\n ON FOR THE DURATION OF THE CREDITS. CUT BACK TO:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Franky Four Fingers opens a fancy case, presses a hidden\\n catch, this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The\",\n \"eye. He's satisfied.\\n\\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX TO: ANOTHER\\n\\n\\n DIAMOND BEING HELD BY AN OVERWEIGHT BLACK MAN. CUT TO: MONTAG\\n\\n\\n INVOLVING ALL THE CHARACTERS IN THE FILM. DEALING OR HAVING\\n\\n\\n SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\\n\\n\\n TAKES US SEAM\",\n \"the window and the car\\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n2 CONTINUED:\\n\\n Franky opens the package and he reveals a stone the size of\\n a fist. He shines a torch onto it and puts a stone inspectin\\n monocle to his eye. He's satisfied.\\n\\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX\",\n \" shattering bullet-proof glass all around them. Vinny's panic\\n filled eyes attempt to follow its trajectory. Sol is unaware\\n of the ricochet and before Vin has time to warn him, Sol\\n fires another bullet. Now he observes the problem and waits\\n for the inevitable. The bullet tears through the bag of\\n coins, which then empties its contents at Vin's and Sol's\\n feet. Eventually the bullet hits poor Vince in the thigh.\\n Sol sinks to the floor, he has given up. Amongst the yells\",\n \"\\n except the two that died of course.\\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,\",\n \"withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Well come on, let's have a look.\\n Brick Top passes the stone to Hands. All goes quiet while\\n everybody focuses on the stone. Hands lifts it up to his\\n eye.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\\n\\n What are you playing at? -\\n He drops the stone: it smashes on the ground.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\\n\\n It's a zircon\",\n \",BTT\\n\\n What dp I do?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Let me take a wild and reckless guess.\\n Stick a knife in his guts and see if\\n it's got a diamond in there? I'll\\n hold it still and'you open it up.\\n Tony looks positively unsure and rocks his head from side to\\n side.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n Fuckin hell, alright then.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n You can't do that\",\n \"'s\\n got a sharp side and a blunt side.\\n You want a lesson?\\n There is a sudden bang on the windshield and BTT turns back\\n to the front only to see the windshield covered in milk.\\n Tony can't see where he is going and searches for the\\n windshield wipers. While this is happening the car swerves\\n to the side and hits a lamp post. They crash and the boot\\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\\n himself out\",\n \"diamond\\n dealer. He catches a coin.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Twenty carats?\\n\\n5 INT. HEATHROW AIRPORT -- DAY\\n\\n Franky's on the phone.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Best stone I've seen in years.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Good man Franky, you done a good\\n job. What time you back?\\n\\n FRANK Y FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I gotta move the smaller stones here;\",\n \"ED:\\n\\n It hits Bomber Harris square on the jaw this has the effect\\n of forcing blood out of his ears the man is positively out\\n cold. We crashtrack into various characters' reactions:\\n Brick Top, Turkish and Tommy etc. All are in shock. The\\n ref (who is obviously paid off as well) tries to resuscitate\\n Harris/ but it's not happening, he catches a look of\\n desperation from one of the villains and is eventually left\\n with little choice but to hold Micky's hand\",\n \"have the ten grand\\n now give me the stone.\\n The pause continues. Boris lets a shot off that tears\\n worryingly close to Sol's head.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n42 CONTINUED: (2.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n The only man that knows the\\n combination you just shot.\\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\\n foot machete that he was concealing\",\n \"\\n there wasn't much but, here's ten\\n large to help the situation.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I am afraid it's too late for that\\n Boris. -\\n He holds up the diamond. Boris1 eyes follow him as he walks\\n back into the room where Franky is and puts the diamond back\\n into the case while he's talking and changes the combination.\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n We want half and that's because we\\n are being generous. We could\",\n \"black guys are stunned into silence.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\\n who I am. Now open the case and\\n give me.the stone.\\n The black guys are left with their mouths open, everything\\n just changed gear and they weren't expecting that.\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n Who's next? You have the ten grand\\n now give me the stone.\\n The pause continues. Boris lets a shot off that tears\\n worryingly close to\",\n \" condition.\\n\\n78 INT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n The music continues, and we have a montage of the black guys\\n dealing with Bullet Tooth Tony and Hands as they arrive at\\n the pawn shop. We see the corpse, we see Hands get irate\\n and it looks like it's going to be the end of the black fellas\\n again. The black guys try to whip out the big gun but Tony\\n disarms them and takes the gun off them. The music ends\\n along with the scene when Sol\",\n \"'t sure about this either. Vin is in a panic and\\n suddenly.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Stop! I can see it. I can see the\\n stone.\\n Hands at the point of entry stops. Vinny hops over to the\\n stone and picks it up. Tony lets the dog stand but keeps a\\n grip oh the collar. The dog is relieved to be semi-liberated.\\n Hands is still on his knees armed with an incredulous stare.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Well let's see\",\n \"The\\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\\n\\n ,, · '\\n\\n wrong way.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n What the fuck are you two doing?\\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four F\",\n \"He puts his foot down and Mullet loses his footing, and is\\n dragged along. '.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n What about?\\n He points to Mullet. BTT pulls an, 'oh yes I forgot about\\n him1 face. He doesn't even look at Mullet. He lowers the\\n window, and Mullet falls by the way, in god knows what\\n condition.\\n\\n78 INT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n The music continues, and we have a montage of the black\",\n \"\\n counter and a security screen comes flying up at a very rapid\\n rate of knots protecting all the counters. This has the\\n unfortunate consequence of taking Vinny with it. Poor Vin\\n is shot straight to the ceiling, all we can see is half a\\n body and his desperately searching for ground legs. Needless\\n to say this leaves Sol in a bit of a bewildered state. He's\\n looking the wrong way at the critical moment and is left\\n wondering what happened, not having seen Vince impaled on\\n the ceiling. Sol extracts the enormous\",\n \"other than a big click, there is silence for\\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\\n eyes. :\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n Whoops.\\n Tyrone also looks into the case and sees the. open secret\\n compartment: this also reveals the stone.\\n\\n TYRONE (CONT'D)\\n\\n Hello what have we got here?\\n\\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop\",\n \"\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n We want half and that's because we\\n are being generous. We could by\\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\\n black guys are stunned into silence.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\\n who\"\n ],\n [\n \"1 EXT. CARAVAN, PIKEY CAMPSITE\\n\\n Darren picks up the phone.\\n\\n DAREN .\\n\\n If you would you like to speak to\\n your friends, you'll have to speak a\\n little -louder.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n121 CONTINUED:\\n\\n We pull back to see four slumped heads in the car and blood\\n staining the windscreen. Brick\",\n \"TINUED:\\n\\n We pull back to see four slumped heads in the car and blood\\n staining the windscreen. Brick Top calmly puts the phone\\n down.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Right lets get outta here.\\n Brick Top is looking every which way and trying to get out\\n of there, accompanied by Ken.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT.'D)\\n\\n Where's the car Ken?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n KEN\\n\\n I t ' s coming\",\n \"a lamp post. They crash and the boot\\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\\n himself out. Rose Bud looks down at the sword he has been\\n extracting he can see he very nearly cut himself in two.\\n Tony pulls himself up from the steering wheel he has a trickle\\n of blood running down his face. There's a crash and a car\\n hits em from behind.\\n\\n96 INT. TYRONE'S CAR --NIGHT\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n They too are recovering from\",\n \"Tyrone spins in his seat and answers a little too loudly.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n I am fuckin deaf! What have you\\n done to my car?\\n They crash into the car in front. Boris the Blade comes\\n flying through the windshield.\\n\\n95 INT. BTT CAR -- NIGHT\\n\\n (This scene runs concurrently with scene 91)\\n\\n HNS\\n\\n\\n AD- .......\\n\\n How we going to get rid of\",\n \" They\\n burnt his mam.\\n All real sound recedes and we drift in to music. The camera\\n slowly tracks in on Micky. It's hard to read how devastated\\n he is. The camera reaches Micky's face, the reflections of\\n the flames can be seen in his water swollen eyes, but his\\n cheeks remain dry. .\\n\\n82 INT. BTT CAR\\n\\n BTT is driving, Hands in the passenger seat and Rose Bud in\\n the back. BTT's got a bleeding eye\",\n \"\\n except the two that died of course.\\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,\",\n \"him. It's gone through him and the seat that he is\\n sitting on.\\n\\n98 INT. BLACK GUY'S CAR\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Let's hit em now.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n The is a dead Russian on my lap Sol\\n I am not thinking about hitting\\n anybody right now.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Well you better start thinking Vince\\n because otherwise you'll be fuckin\\n lucky if you end up\",\n \"The\\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\\n\\n ,, · '\\n\\n wrong way.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n What the fuck are you two doing?\\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four F\",\n \"D)\\n\\n Where's the car Ken?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n KEN\\n\\n I t ' s coming now.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n We are outta here.\\n They come out of a side entrance, their car pulls round the\\n corner and screeches to a halt. Brick Top opens the door as\\n he is about to get in, he's eyes widen to the size of saucers\\n as FOUR MEN (who we recognize from the wake) are sitting in\\n the place\",\n \"s eyes widen to the size of saucers\\n as FOUR MEN (who we recognize from the wake) are sitting in\\n the place of his driver. They both have sawed-off shotguns\\n and empty four barrels into the chest of Brick Top and Ken.\\n The car spins away, leaving their twitching bodies on the\\n dirt.\\n\\n :\\n\\n\\n122 INT. BAD BOY LINCOLN'S HOUSE .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Hands, Doug and Bullet\",\n \"is standing there with six. bullet\\n holes in him and bleeding all over the carpet. As he talks\\n blood courses its way down his front and a strong lisp is\\n frustrating the words.\\n\\n TONY\\n\\n Ohh you'f in twouble nowf.\\n\\n\\n\\n Tony slowly extracts a short sword from behind him. Fear\\n has set into Charlie's face and has rendered him useless.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n FADE IN:\\n\\n\\n48 INT. VANTAGE ·\\n\\n The car\",\n \"behind.\\n\\n96 INT. TYRONE'S CAR --NIGHT\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n They too are recovering from the accident. And Boris has\\n now come headfirst through the windshield.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n96 CONTINUED: -\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n You idiot what have you done?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Is that Boris?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"'s\\n got a sharp side and a blunt side.\\n You want a lesson?\\n There is a sudden bang on the windshield and BTT turns back\\n to the front only to see the windshield covered in milk.\\n Tony can't see where he is going and searches for the\\n windshield wipers. While this is happening the car swerves\\n to the side and hits a lamp post. They crash and the boot\\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\\n himself out\",\n \"\\n Btt turns to Hands.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n Give us your wallet Hands.\\n Hands makes eyes and digs into his back pocket and produces\\n his wallet. BTT takes out some notes and proffers them to\\n Mullet, Mullet nervously reaches forward. As quick as you\\n like Btt has Mullet by the collar and pulls Mullet into the\\n car. He then raises the electric window on Mullet's throat\\n until it has fastened Mullet to the roof of the vehicle.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"He puts his foot down and Mullet loses his footing, and is\\n dragged along. '.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n What about?\\n He points to Mullet. BTT pulls an, 'oh yes I forgot about\\n him1 face. He doesn't even look at Mullet. He lowers the\\n window, and Mullet falls by the way, in god knows what\\n condition.\\n\\n78 INT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n The music continues, and we have a montage of the black\",\n \"\\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\\n to take the case off him but i t ' s handcuffed to his wrist.\\n So he has little choice but to pick him up and throw him in\\n to the back of the car with the other two.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n40 INT. PAWN BROKERS -- DAY\\n\\n We cut to the black guys trying to open the case. They have\\n Franky's hand up on a desk and are fiddling with the handcuff,\",\n \"AR\\n\\n BTT is driving, Hands in the passenger seat and Rose Bud in\\n the back. BTT's got a bleeding eye and his hand is wrapped\\n up in a bandage. Rose Bud is clutching his stomach.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Sneaky was a bit of a fuckin\\n understatement wasn't it?\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n What do you want me to do? Your man\\n there thought he could take him. I\\n told you he was dangerous.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n\",\n \" (3.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Tyrone get us outta here.\\n Tyrone takes an interest in the man from the van (ie Franky)\\n seeing that he's carrying a case and the case is connected\\n to his wrist.\\n\\n SOL (CONT'D)\\n\\n I said, get us outta here Tyrone!\\n\\n35 EXT. CAESARS PALACE STREATHAM\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Aston Martin comes to a scree\",\n \"here to show your\\n fuckin car off. ··.\\n The machine starts. They do the windows up and that point\\n the dog lets out a fart. The water starts to hit the\\n windshield so they can't undo the windows. There is more an\\n atmosphere of disbelief than of concrete anger.\\n\\n16 EXT. CARAVAN CAMP SITE\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Gorgeous George fastens the caravan to the back of their\\n Land Rover and pulls away. They wave at Micky and he\",\n \"but was a good dog.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Are you sure he's not here?\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n I think I would have noticed if a\\n fuckin dog was sitting in my caravan\\n don't you? Tommy, Turkish, have you\\n seen a dog sitting in me caravan?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n I can't say I have Micky.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n See there you have it.\\n\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"for the fights\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n How am I supposed to run this thing\\n from that? We gonna need a proper\\n office.\\n He looks at the caravan again and sighs, it is quite pitiful\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n I want a new one Tommy and you 're\\n going to buy it for me.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n What's wrong with this one?\\n Turning back to Tommy and ascending the steps in to his \\\"\",\n \"and is off.\\n\\n67 INT. CAR\\n\\n Turkish is getting into his car. . ..\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n You're are as mad as mars you are,\\n why did you take that bet? What\\n happens now?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n We buy him a caravan Tommy.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n There is something very wrong with\\n this, it was us that wanted to buy a\\n caravan off him.\",\n \"MY\\n\\n There is something very wrong with\\n this, it was us that wanted to buy a\\n caravan off him.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Why didn't you \\\"bus a cap in his\\n ass\\\" then Tommy? Mind you, you would\\n do more damage if you threw it at\\n him.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n You saying I can't shoot?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Oh no Tommy I wasn't saying you can't\\n\",\n \"buying a caravan.\\n\\n GORGEOUS GEORGE\\n\\n Off a pack of fucking pikies? What's\\n wrong with you? This'll get messy.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Not if you're here.\\n\\n GORGE OUS GEORGE\\n\\n Oh fuck off Tommy you never said\\n anything about pikies.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Calm down, we are buying and then we\\n are off.\\n\\n GORGEOUS\",\n \"\\n TURKISH\\n\\n That's right, you're buying a caravan,\\n caravans live in campsites.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCONTINUED: (2).\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n They aren't pikey are they?\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n I don't know what they are, all I\\n know is they have a caravan, and we\\n want a Caravan.\\n\\n\",\n \"you going to pay us?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Ten k.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n I lose more than that running for\\n the bus. I ' l l do it for a caravan.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n A what?\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n No a caravan.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n A what?\\n\\n M ICKY\\n\\n You are sitting in one if that makes\\n things easier. I want\",\n \"I don't know what they are, all I\\n know is they have a caravan, and we\\n want a Caravan.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I hope they're not pikies. I hate\\n fucking pikies.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n You're a sensitive boy, ain't you\\n Tommy? You got ten grand and I want\\n to see change.\\nHe is distracted by the bulge in Tommy's trouser front.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D\",\n \"\\n\\n Well they aren't fuckin here now are\\n they? And I can't see a dog can\\n you?\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n They can't be far.\\n\\n125 INT. CAR\\n\\n Hands, BTT and the black guys are back on the road.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n You gonna have to come up with\\n something.\\n Just then they see some caravans in the distance.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n \",\n \"14 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n GORGEOUS GEORGE\\n\\n I t ' s a camp site. It's a pikey\\n campsite.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Ten points.\\n\\n GORGEOUS GEORGE\\n\\n What are we doing here?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n We are buying a caravan.\\n\\n GORGEOUS GEORGE\\n\\n Off a pack of fucking pikies? What'\",\n \"up with\\n something.\\n Just then they see some caravans in the distance.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n There they are.\\n\\n126 INT. NEW CARAVAN CAMP SITE\\n\\n All the caravans are fastened to the back of cars. Vinny,\\n Sol, BTT and Hands are standing in front of Micky.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n Well he's didn't come back to us.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n But he always came back\",\n \"tip top, it's\\n just I am not sure about the colour.\\n He passes him a piece of paper\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Here it's all arranged. You just\\n gotta pick it up. Here's an address.\\n Tommy looks at the address and frowns.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I t ' s that campsite.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n That's right, you're buying a caravan,\\n caravans live in campsites\",\n \"the Rolls Royce of caravans.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n That's not the same caravan.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n This isn't the same fight.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n 60.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n52 CONTINUED: _ -\\n\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n I t ' s twice the fuckin size of the\\n\",\n \"betting on with various dodgy characters.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Well do you want to do it?\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n That depends.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n On what?\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n On you buying this caravan.\\n He pulls out a catalogue on fancy caravans and points to the\\n picture of the Rolls Royce of caravans.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n That's not the same caravan.\\n\",\n \"next to him.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n17 INT. CAR -- DAY\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I don't know what all your fuss was\\n about. They aren't bad fellas.\\n Just then the wheels of the caravan come straight off and\\n the caravan is dragged until the car comes to a sudden stop.\\n The dog jumps out the window and goes bounding back to the\\n campsite.\\n\\n18 EXT. CARAVAN -- DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n They are looking\",\n \"here to show your\\n fuckin car off. ··.\\n The machine starts. They do the windows up and that point\\n the dog lets out a fart. The water starts to hit the\\n windshield so they can't undo the windows. There is more an\\n atmosphere of disbelief than of concrete anger.\\n\\n16 EXT. CARAVAN CAMP SITE\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Gorgeous George fastens the caravan to the back of their\\n Land Rover and pulls away. They wave at Micky and he\",\n \"\\n Gorgeous George fastens the caravan to the back of their\\n Land Rover and pulls away. They wave at Micky and he\\n reciprocates.\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n He's a good dog. He'll get a little\\n homesick for a while but he'11 get\\n over it.\\n Tommy has a dog that looks distressed about leaving Micky\\n sitting next to him.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n17 INT. CAR -- DAY\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I don\",\n \"MICKY\\n\\n Why the fuck do I want a caravan\\n that's got no fuckin wheels? I am\\n not going to do that.\\n\\n\\n\\n Gorgeous George steps forward.\\n\\n MICKY (CONT'D)\\n\\n Where the fuck do you think you're\\n going? You want to settle this with\\n a fight?\\n\\n MUM\\n\\n You'll do no such thing Michael.\\n You'll...\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n\",\n \" TOMMY\\n\\n What's wrong with this one?\\n Turning back to Tommy and ascending the steps in to his \\\"I\\n have seen better days\\\" caravan, TURKISH'S foot goes through\\n one of the stairs and the.door comes off at the hinges as he\\n tries to open it.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Oh nothing Tommy, it's tip top, it's\\n just I am not sure about the colour.\\n He passes him a piece of paper\\n\\n TUR\",\n \"for free.\\n Turkish considers this, uneasily. He looks at the dogs they\\n look keen and fit.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Okay, I reckon the hare gets caught.\\n But he's in. Gypsy Romany Music starts. Cut to slow motion,\\n CU of dogs' enthusiasm, CU of pikeys and their fingers\\n skillfully dealing in money, inhaling cigarettes, etc.\\n\\n53 INT. CAR --\\n\\n Slow motion. Errol and John are looking for\",\n \"\\n\\n Save your breath for cooling your\\n porridge. I'll bet you for it.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n What like Tommy did last time? Do\\n me a favour?\\n\\n MICKY\\n\\n I ' l l do you a favour, you have first ,\\n bet. If I win I get the caravan, if\\n I lose I'l l do the fight for free.\\n Turkish considers this, uneasily. He looks at the dogs they\\n look keen and fit.\\n\\n T\"\n ],\n [\n \"and falls to the floor. Tony seems only shaken and\\n he holds his hands out to inspect them, he's bleeding.\\n\\n TONY (CONT'D)\\n\\n Oh you silly cunt.\\n Tony stands and walks towards Charlie. Charlie is\\n understandably shocked and fires another. It goes straight\\n through Tony and we see the blood hit the wall behind.\\n\\n CHARLIE\\n\\n Go down-boy, go down.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n Go down-boy, go down.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n47 CONTINUED:\\n\\n Tony keeps going for him. Charlie raises the gun and points\\n it at Tony's face and fires the last shot. The bullet goes\\n straight into his mouth but it went in at an angle and it\\n exits his cheek. Tony is standing there with six. bullet\\n holes in him and bleeding all over the carpet. As he talks\\n blood courses its way down his front and\",\n \"\\n what we must believe is coke, it's open, and Charlie has it\\n all over his nose. .\\n\\n TONY (CONT'D)\\n\\n You silly fucker, you can't go running\\n off with other people's gear. How\\n much you put up your nose?\\n Charlie opens up, he fires four shots straight into Tony who\\n buckles and falls to the floor. Tony seems only shaken and\\n he holds his hands out to inspect them, he's bleeding.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n except the two that died of course.\\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,\",\n \"is standing there with six. bullet\\n holes in him and bleeding all over the carpet. As he talks\\n blood courses its way down his front and a strong lisp is\\n frustrating the words.\\n\\n TONY\\n\\n Ohh you'f in twouble nowf.\\n\\n\\n\\n Tony slowly extracts a short sword from behind him. Fear\\n has set into Charlie's face and has rendered him useless.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n FADE IN:\\n\\n\\n48 INT. VANTAGE ·\\n\\n The car\",\n \"'s\\n got a sharp side and a blunt side.\\n You want a lesson?\\n There is a sudden bang on the windshield and BTT turns back\\n to the front only to see the windshield covered in milk.\\n Tony can't see where he is going and searches for the\\n windshield wipers. While this is happening the car swerves\\n to the side and hits a lamp post. They crash and the boot\\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\\n himself out\",\n \" condition.\\n\\n78 INT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n The music continues, and we have a montage of the black guys\\n dealing with Bullet Tooth Tony and Hands as they arrive at\\n the pawn shop. We see the corpse, we see Hands get irate\\n and it looks like it's going to be the end of the black fellas\\n again. The black guys try to whip out the big gun but Tony\\n disarms them and takes the gun off them. The music ends\\n along with the scene when Sol\",\n \"makes\\n you feel any better.\\n Cut to Tony having some problems trying to get hold of the\\n awkward dog. The dog starts to squeak. Tony passes the\\n blade to Hands.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n I t ' s squeaking.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n What, you've never heard a dog squeak\\n before?... Hold him still.\\n The dog isn't sure about this either. Vin is in a panic and\\n suddenly.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Stop! I can\",\n \"much trouble\\n you' d be in.\\n\\n CHARLIE\\n\\n You come through that door and you'll\\n be going out prostrate.\\n\\n TONY\\n\\n It doesn't belong to you Charlie.\\n He kicks open the door. CHARLIE is standing behind his desk\\n holding a pistol directly at Tony. On the table is a bag of\\n what we must believe is coke, it's open, and Charlie has it\\n all over his nose. .\\n\\n \",\n \"S\\n\\n He's a sneaky fucker that Russian.\\n Well shall we go?\\n\\n BTT ·\\n\\n What you want to do about the Russian?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n I want to bury him.\\n\\n EXT. BORIS1 HOUSE\\n\\n\\n93\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Hands, Tony and Rosebud walk out.\\n\\n94 INT. TYRONE'S CAR\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The black guys witness this. Tyrone's now in the\",\n \"a lamp post. They crash and the boot\\n (trunk) has flown open and Boris the Blade tries to lift\\n himself out. Rose Bud looks down at the sword he has been\\n extracting he can see he very nearly cut himself in two.\\n Tony pulls himself up from the steering wheel he has a trickle\\n of blood running down his face. There's a crash and a car\\n hits em from behind.\\n\\n96 INT. TYRONE'S CAR --NIGHT\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n They too are recovering from\",\n \"'D)\\n\\n Chop chop.\\n\\n\\n\\n The barman walks down the end of a bar and picks up the phone.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n What was it you did exactly Tony?\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n I had a little run in with a few of\\n the chaps.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n How ' s that ?\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n They're all brainless, they got white\\n powdered angels sitting on their\\n shoulders telling them what was\",\n \"TINUED:\\n\\n We pull back to see four slumped heads in the car and blood\\n staining the windscreen. Brick Top calmly puts the phone\\n down.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Right lets get outta here.\\n Brick Top is looking every which way and trying to get out\\n of there, accompanied by Ken.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT.'D)\\n\\n Where's the car Ken?\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n KEN\\n\\n I t ' s coming\",\n \"and end up in a corridor. The door .shuts behind\\n them and the door in front hasn't yet opened. Ken turns\\n around and faces Tony.\\n\\n KEN (CONT'D)\\n\\n Did you know that it was my cousin\\n Lorrie you stabbed?\\n There is a pause. The situation is volatile.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n Yes I know I stabbed a man called\\n Lorrie, but no I didn't know he was\\n related to a tub a shit.\\n Ken\",\n \" HANDS\\n\\n I mean open him up..\\n Tony is not sure about this.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n I t ' s not a fuckin tin of baked beans,\\n what do you mean open him up?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n I mean open him up.\\n Hands does a movement that represents a knife across the\\n throat.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n That's a bit strong isn't it?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n You wouldn't have a\",\n \"him.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n That's the spirit. There's a sword\\n back there.\\n He points to behind a seat: there is a bloody great sword\\n concealed. Tony skillfully passes the sword to Rose Budd,\\n who attempts to pull it out of its scabbard. Tony turns\\n round to Hands.\\n\\n BTT (CONT'D)\\n\\n You, you want a knife?\\n He passes Hands a knife.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n I wouldn'\",\n \"The\\n door was open the whole time - only Sol was pushing it the\\n\\n ,, · '\\n\\n wrong way.\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n What the fuck are you two doing?\\n They stumble out into the street. Vinny is in big trouble.\\n They throw him into the van. Just as Sol gets into the back,\\n we hear kicking noises on metal from the van behind. Tyrone\\n pulls out. And the rear doors of the van behind them fly\\n open. Franky Four F\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n\\n Vinny cocks his gun. There is a pause and eventually Tony\\n lets go of it.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n I am talking for your benefit. Now\\n dicks have drive, and clarity of\\n vision.\\n Tony starts to build himself a complicated looking weapon\\n under the table, unseen by the black guys. He takes bits\\n out of one sock and bits out of another sock.\\n\\n BTT (CONT'D)\\n\\n But they're not clever, they smell\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n We want half and that's because we\\n are being generous. We could by\\n rights keep the whole fuckin stone.\\n Boris grimaces and pulls out a gun from god knows where, and\\n within a second shoots poor Franky in the face. Franky's\\n body disappears off the stool that he was sitting on. The\\n black guys are stunned into silence.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\\n who\",\n \"DOUG\\n\\n No it's true. I can't find'him, but\\n I know a man that can.\\n Cut to a shot of Hands encouraging him to continue.\\n\\n DOUG (CONT'D)\\n\\n Tony. Bullet Tooth Tony. He'll\\n find Franky for you.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Who's he?\\n Susi interrupts.\\n\\n SUSI\\n\\n ·What is he?' Would be a more\\n appropriate\"\n ],\n [\n \"plicas,\\n what do you know about replicas?\\n Sol looks at the gun and frowns, \\\"what does he know about\\n replicas\\\"? He pulls the trigger. He fires one shot. It is\\n very loud, the gun goes off near Tyrone's ear, he buckles in\\n . pain. The car does a massive swerve and everything nearly\\n ends in disaster, all the windows shatter including the\\n windshield (but the glass stays put). Tyrone regains some\\n control over the car.\\n\\n \",\n \"in your\\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\\n your trousers?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It's for protection.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Protection from what, the Germans?\\n The war ended fifty years ago. Err\\n what's to stop it blowing your balls\\n off every time you sit down? Where\\n did you get it?\\nLooking down onto his gun.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n Boris the Blade.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n \",\n \"'t want to go in there, he's a\\n dangerous bastard, taken too many\\n disco biscuits in the heat of Russian\\n disputations, he's got as many of\\n these nuts as those nuts.\\n\\n\\n\\n He grabs his groin and circles his finger and his temple\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I don't care if he's got fuckin hazel\\n nuts, I want a gun that works.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Well come on then before\",\n \"see change.\\nHe is distracted by the bulge in Tommy's trouser front.\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Fuck me, hold tight, what's that?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It's my Gucci belt, Turkish.\\nPointing quite clearly at the gun.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n No Tommy, there's a gun in your\\n trousers. What is a gun doing in\\n your trousers?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n C UT TO:CU OF SPINNING GUN CHAMBER\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We are in the back room of an amusement arcade and can hear\\n fruit machines beeping in the distance. Meet BORIS THE BLADE\\n and TOMMY who is toying with a heavy-looking revolver.\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n It's a bit heavy isn't it Boris?\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n Heavy is good. Heavy is reliable.\\n If it doesn't work you can\",\n \"TYRONE\\n\\n They look fucked up.\\n\\n SOL . \\\" *\\n\\n Well get in and let's load up.\\n Vin whips out a gun.\\n\\n VINNY *\\n\\n Load them up with what? *\\n\\n TYRONE *\\n\\n What's wrong with them?\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n . They're replicas.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (\",\n \"in hazel\\n nuts, I want a gun that works.\\n\\n TURKISH\\n\\n Well come on then before the Germans\\n get here.\\n\\n105 EXT. CAFE . .\\n\\n The black guys have followed BTT and Hands and are waiting\\n outside, readying themselves for action. .\\n\\n SOL ' .\\n\\n . Now Tyrone you go... Tyrone, oi\\n Tyrone.\\n Tyrone can't\",\n \" shattering bullet-proof glass all around them. Vinny's panic\\n filled eyes attempt to follow its trajectory. Sol is unaware\\n of the ricochet and before Vin has time to warn him, Sol\\n fires another bullet. Now he observes the problem and waits\\n for the inevitable. The bullet tears through the bag of\\n coins, which then empties its contents at Vin's and Sol's\\n feet. Eventually the bullet hits poor Vince in the thigh.\\n Sol sinks to the floor, he has given up. Amongst the yells\",\n \"face. Go on\\n try it.\\n Tommy sticks the gun out the window and pulls the trigger.\\n Nothing happens.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINU ED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n67 CONTINUED: .\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TURKISH (CONT'D)\\n\\n Whoops.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n I want to see that sneaky fuckin\\n Russian.\\n\\n68 INT. BACK ROOM PAWN BRO\",\n \"\\n Tony shrugs\\n\\n KEN\\n\\n He's pissed in my fuckin pocket,\\n look!\\n Ken shows off a wet-sided jacket and a damp set of trousers.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n Do shut up Ken. That was a bit\\n naughty Tony.\\n Tony shrugs. Brick Top puts his hands in to his pocket and\\n withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Well come on, let's have a\",\n \"Micky. Otherwise we are\\n rumbled.... you hear me Micky? Do\\n -something, it looks like it' s rigged.\\n Micky goes out again his hands are low, BANG there is a flash\\n of white as Micky goes down in the dirt. Dust rises from\\n where he fell. He gets up quickly, his hands are still low,\\n BANG he goes down again, in no time he's up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n120 CONT\",\n \"\\n\\n We see Turkish with a somewhat serious expression on his\\n face he has his customary pint of milk on one side, he takes\\n a sip and \\\"ohhhs\\\" and \\\"arrrs\\\" for a while.\\n\\n .TURKISH\\n\\n So you're telling me he would have\\n run you through if Gorgeous hadn't\\n woken up?\\n\\n TOMMY\\n\\n No, his Mum stopped it. If his Mum\\n hadn't turned up, well, I ' d be pikey\\n fuck\",\n \"- as Tyrone parks the van )\\n We cut back to Frankie Four Fingers getting out of his van.\\n He takes a quick look around and enters the back of his van.\\n There he raises the spare tire and picks up his gun, he\\n examines it and places it in his trouser front. He then\\n turns to exit. At which point there is a loud smash and\\n Franky is knocked backwards (as Tyrone hits his van).\\n\\n WE CUT TO BLACK. '\\n\\n\\n WE FADE UP\\n\",\n \" (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n94 CONTINUED: -<2)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Well just how fuckin loud did you\\n think it was going to be? It's a-\\n fucking gun Sol, guns are renowned\\n for making a loud fucking noise\\n whenever you pull the trigger.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n You wanted to see if they worked.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I didn't\",\n \"in a pincer movement.\\n\\n59 INT. BOOT OF A CAR\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Poor Tyrone is bleeding in the boot of a car.\\n\\n60 EXT. FIELD\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The dogs move in.\\n\\n61 EXT. CAR\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n They bail Tyrone out of the car and into Brick Top's pub.\\n Brick Top is waiting there. Brick Top asks questions. We\\n can't hear what he's asking, but we can see that T\",\n \"\\n counter and a security screen comes flying up at a very rapid\\n rate of knots protecting all the counters. This has the\\n unfortunate consequence of taking Vinny with it. Poor Vin\\n is shot straight to the ceiling, all we can see is half a\\n body and his desperately searching for ground legs. Needless\\n to say this leaves Sol in a bit of a bewildered state. He's\\n looking the wrong way at the critical moment and is left\\n wondering what happened, not having seen Vince impaled on\\n the ceiling. Sol extracts the enormous\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n We see Tyrone grimace at the sound of the shotgun.\\n\\n34 INT. BOOKIES -- DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Sol pulls himself together and marches up to the hole in the\\n wall that the shot created and pokes the gun through.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n Drop the screen now! You just seen\\n what it did to this wall so think\\n what it could do to you.\\n Pauline knows she has lost this one and looks genuinely\\n scared.\\n\\n PAULINE\",\n \" They\\n burnt his mam.\\n All real sound recedes and we drift in to music. The camera\\n slowly tracks in on Micky. It's hard to read how devastated\\n he is. The camera reaches Micky's face, the reflections of\\n the flames can be seen in his water swollen eyes, but his\\n cheeks remain dry. .\\n\\n82 INT. BTT CAR\\n\\n BTT is driving, Hands in the passenger seat and Rose Bud in\\n the back. BTT's got a bleeding eye\",\n \"\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n . They're replicas.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n89 CONTINUED:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n Hold tight rudy, are you fuckin mad?\\n Do you know who these people are?\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n No I don't Tyrone, but I do know I\\n don't want to be eaten by pulled\\n\",\n \"\\n except the two that died of course.\\n We look at the table where we see three large kitchen knives\\n sitting provocatively. Tyrone rushes for one of the blades\\n grabs it and runs at Vin, Vin sidesteps and Tyrone keeps\\n running straight into the arms of Errol who raises his gun\\n at the last moment. Tyrone slides the blade into Errol 's\\n ribs and Errol fires a shot straight at Tyrone. The bullet\\n passes through Tyrone and hits John in the throat . Vin,\"\n ],\n [\n \" SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\\n\\n\\n TAKES US SEAMLESSLY INTO ANOTHER SHOT AND SET UP. THIS GOES\\n\\n\\n ON FOR THE DURATION OF THE CREDITS. CUT BACK TO:\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Franky Four Fingers opens a fancy case, presses a hidden\\n catch, this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The\",\n \"the window and the car\\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n2 CONTINUED:\\n\\n Franky opens the package and he reveals a stone the size of\\n a fist. He shines a torch onto it and puts a stone inspectin\\n monocle to his eye. He's satisfied.\\n\\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX\",\n \"diamond\\n dealer. He catches a coin.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Twenty carats?\\n\\n5 INT. HEATHROW AIRPORT -- DAY\\n\\n Franky's on the phone.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Best stone I've seen in years.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Good man Franky, you done a good\\n job. What time you back?\\n\\n FRANK Y FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I gotta move the smaller stones here;\",\n \"\\n there wasn't much but, here's ten\\n large to help the situation.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I am afraid it's too late for that\\n Boris. -\\n He holds up the diamond. Boris1 eyes follow him as he walks\\n back into the room where Franky is and puts the diamond back\\n into the case while he's talking and changes the combination.\\n\\n VINNY (CONT'D)\\n\\n We want half and that's because we\\n are being generous. We could\",\n \"eye. He's satisfied.\\n\\n CUT TO: MUSIC,A CLOSE UP OF THE DIAMOND. MIX TO: ANOTHER\\n\\n\\n DIAMOND BEING HELD BY AN OVERWEIGHT BLACK MAN. CUT TO: MONTAG\\n\\n\\n INVOLVING ALL THE CHARACTERS IN THE FILM. DEALING OR HAVING\\n\\n\\n SOMETHING TO DO WITH DIAMONDS OR THEFT. ONE SHOT AND SET UP\\n\\n\\n TAKES US SEAM\",\n \"have the ten grand\\n now give me the stone.\\n The pause continues. Boris lets a shot off that tears\\n worryingly close to Sol's head.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n (CONTINUED)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n42 CONTINUED: (2.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n The only man that knows the\\n combination you just shot.\\n Boris appears little bothered by this and whips out a four\\n foot machete that he was concealing\",\n \"withdraws the stone. We cut to Hand's expression.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Well come on, let's have a look.\\n Brick Top passes the stone to Hands. All goes quiet while\\n everybody focuses on the stone. Hands lifts it up to his\\n eye.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\\n\\n What are you playing at? -\\n He drops the stone: it smashes on the ground.\\n\\n HANDS (CONT'D)\\n\\n It's a zircon\",\n \"S OFFICE -- DAY\\n\\n Doug the Head and Franky Four Fingers are doing a deal.\\n Doug has a case open and is admiring a couple of stones.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n From Russia with love. You\\n interested? .\\n\\n DOUG\\n\\n I told you I was interested.\\n Pause. Franky's in a rush.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I got stones to sell, fat to che\",\n \",BTT\\n\\n What dp I do?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Let me take a wild and reckless guess.\\n Stick a knife in his guts and see if\\n it's got a diamond in there? I'll\\n hold it still and'you open it up.\\n Tony looks positively unsure and rocks his head from side to\\n side.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n Fuckin hell, alright then.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n You can't do that\",\n \"So please can we get on with it?\\n Franky knows discussion is futile. He flips the case open\\n and pulls out a transparent plastic bag full of American\\n dollars. The package is pulled out of the window, the driver\\n doesn't move, we dissolve for a passage of time, the anxiety\\n is more than obvious, but Four Fingers can do nothing. All\\n of a sudden a package comes through the window and the car\\n speeds off without waiting for an inspection of the delivery.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"black guys are stunned into silence.\\n\\n BORIS\\n\\n You fuckin idiots. He couldn't know\\n who I am. Now open the case and\\n give me.the stone.\\n The black guys are left with their mouths open, everything\\n just changed gear and they weren't expecting that.\\n\\n BORIS (CONT'D)\\n\\n Who's next? You have the ten grand\\n now give me the stone.\\n The pause continues. Boris lets a shot off that tears\\n worryingly close to\",\n \" Top's office.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n I gotta say you have got some front\\n coming round here Tone, you know the\\n lads are picking straws. . .\\n Interrupted\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n You gotta diamond and it doesn't\\n belong to you, it belongs to my\\n colleague here.\\n\\n BRICK TOP\\n\\n That's what I love about you Tone,\\n no small talk.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n\",\n \" job. What time you back?\\n\\n FRANK Y FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n I gotta move the smaller stones here;\\n it shouldn't take me long. I ' l l be\\n a couple of days.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Speak to my cousin Doug.\\n\\n FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Doug the Head?\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Yeah, Doug the Head. But get some\\n security. I mean it, get it today,\\n speak to those Russians\",\n \" BORIS\\n\\n I ' l l toss the coin.\\n He tosses the coin\\n\\n CUT TO: CU OF SPINNING COIN\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n4 INT. NEW YORK_OFFICE -- DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n CUT TO :CU OF SPINNING COIN\\n\\n Meet HANDS. On the phone. Cool young street wise NY diamond\\n dealer. He catches a coin.\\n\\n HANDS\\n\\n Twenty carats?\\n\\n5 INT. HE\",\n \"other than a big click, there is silence for\\n a long second and the black guys open their tightly shut\\n eyes. :\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n TYRONE\\n\\n Whoops.\\n Tyrone also looks into the case and sees the. open secret\\n compartment: this also reveals the stone.\\n\\n TYRONE (CONT'D)\\n\\n Hello what have we got here?\\n\\n41 EXT. PAWN BROKERS\\n\\n Boris is admiring the outside of the shop\",\n \"DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n Meet SOL, who's behind the counter, Vinny's partner in the\\n pawn shop. He's concentrating on the deal at hand with BAD\\n BOY LINCOLN and has a stone-inspecting monocle to his eye.\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n Alright Sol, Lincoln.\\n They are in deep discussion and only Lincoln responds.\\n\\n B AD BOY LINCOLN\\n\\n Vin.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n It\",\n \"\\n\\n It was a rhetorical question Errol,\\n what have I told you about thinking?\\n He turns back to the brothers.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n You got forty eight hours.\\n He looks at Lincoln.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n I am going to take your man here.\\n Pointing to Tyrone.\\n\\n BRICK TOP (CONT'D)\\n\\n You can keep this silly wanker.\\n\\n \",\n \"this reveals a second wall within the case, he then\\n carefully places the stone within this secret compartment\\n and firmly closes the case. The Russian next to him is\\n playing with a revolver, he spins the chamber.\\n\\n RUSSIAN (CONT'D)\\n\\n If you need a man in London then\\n call this number.\\n Franky takes the card looks at it and repeats the name.\\n\\n . FRANKY FOUR FINGERS\\n\\n Boris?\\n\\n RUSSIAN\\n\",\n \"of times - nothing happens, but on\\n the third kick the doors spring open. Franky brushes himself\\n off and makes his way to the bookies.\\n\\n39 EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BOOKIES --DAY\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n We cut to Tyrone. Tyrone clocks the case attached to Franky'\\n wrist. Gets out and slams the end of the gun across Franky\\n Four Fingers' head. He falls to the ground. Tyrone tries\\n to take the case off him but i t ' s\",\n \"to admire balls that I\\n want to chop off.\\n\\n SOL\\n\\n What choice did we have?\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n I know sorry doesn't mean fuck all,\\n but we are game on, what do you want\\n us to do?\\n\\n ·HANDS\\n\\n Get us that stone back.\\n\\n BTT\\n\\n So Brick Top has now got the stone?\\n\\n VINNY\\n\\n He's got\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["What organization did Boris the Blade use to work for?","Why does Mickey agree to the boxing match?","What round is Mickey supposed to get knockout in?","Who orders Franky to be kidnapped?","Why did Mickey agree to fight again after initially refusing? ","Why is Turkish afraid that Mickey won't make it to the 4th Round?","Why were Sol and Vinny arrested?","Why did Turkish and Tommy take the dog to a vet?","Who gets robbed of their savings?","Who does Boris hire to rob Franky?","Where do Turkish and Tommy find the diamond?","What did Franky steal?","Why did Tony crash his car?","Who killed Franky with a revolver?","Why did Brick Top Rob Turkish of his savings?","Where does Franky go to get a gun?","What did Franky do to get a revolver?","Why does Avi fly to London?","Why does Mickey refuse to fight after the initial rounds with Brick Top's fighter?","Where does franky four fingers goes ? and to see whom?","Who flies to london to receive the diamond and why?","Who was mudered with a pistol and why?","Who got killed unintentionally what happened to the diamond?","Whose bodies were found in the car?","For whom the caravan was bought?","Who got killed and wounded by Tony?","Who realised in the pub that the pistols are replicas and what did they do?","How much time is given to get the diamond back ?"],"string":"[\n \"What organization did Boris the Blade use to work for?\",\n \"Why does Mickey agree to the boxing match?\",\n \"What round is Mickey supposed to get knockout in?\",\n \"Who orders Franky to be kidnapped?\",\n \"Why did Mickey agree to fight again after initially refusing? \",\n \"Why is Turkish afraid that Mickey won't make it to the 4th Round?\",\n \"Why were Sol and Vinny arrested?\",\n \"Why did Turkish and Tommy take the dog to a vet?\",\n \"Who gets robbed of their savings?\",\n \"Who does Boris hire to rob Franky?\",\n \"Where do Turkish and Tommy find the diamond?\",\n \"What did Franky steal?\",\n \"Why did Tony crash his car?\",\n \"Who killed Franky with a revolver?\",\n \"Why did Brick Top Rob Turkish of his savings?\",\n \"Where does Franky go to get a gun?\",\n \"What did Franky do to get a revolver?\",\n \"Why does Avi fly to London?\",\n \"Why does Mickey refuse to fight after the initial rounds with Brick Top's fighter?\",\n \"Where does franky four fingers goes ? and to see whom?\",\n \"Who flies to london to receive the diamond and why?\",\n \"Who was mudered with a pistol and why?\",\n \"Who got killed unintentionally what happened to the diamond?\",\n \"Whose bodies were found in the car?\",\n \"For whom the caravan was bought?\",\n \"Who got killed and wounded by Tony?\",\n \"Who realised in the pub that the pistols are replicas and what did they do?\",\n \"How much time is given to get the diamond back ?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["The KGB","the KGB"],["Turkish agrees to buy a caravan for Mickey's mother","To avoid trouble after Brick Top burns down his mother's caravan while she is asleep inside"],["The 4th round","The fourth round."],["Boris","Boris "],["Brick Top burned down Mickey's mother's caravan and killed her","To avoid more people being killed "],["Because Mickey is drunk","He got very drunk after his mother's wake."],["The police found the bodies of Franky and Tony in their car","Police found Franky and Tony's body in their car"],["Because it swallowed a squeaky toy","To obtain a squeaky toy it had swallowed"],["Turkish","Turkish "],["Vinny and Sol","Vinny and Sol"],["Inside Vinny's dog","In Vinny's dog's stomach."],["A large diamond","A diamond."],["Milk splattered on Tony's windshield","As a result of a carton of milk being thrown at his windshield"],["Boris","Boris."],["Because Mickey did not throw the fight as Turkish promised.","Because he was infuriated"],["From Boris \"The Blade\"","An ex-KGB agent called Boris the Blade."],["He agreed to place a bet for Boris.","He went to Boris The Blade."],["To get the diamond from Franky personally.","Because Avi accidentally killed Tony"],["He wants a better caravan for his mother.","He wants a better caravan for his mother "],["franky four fingers goes to london to see diamond dealer doug he head","To London, to see Doug The Head."],["avi flies to london because he knows franky's gambling problem","Franky to see Doug"],["franky was murdered with a pistol for diamonds","Franky"],["tony got accidently killed and the dog swalloed the diamond","Tony, diamond is in the dog's stomach"],["tony and frankys bodies were found in the car","Franky and Tony's"],["mickeys mother","Mickey's mother"],["boris got killed and he wounded Tyrone ","Boris killed, Yyrone was wounded"],["tony and avi realised that the pistols are replicas and they gave them handguns","Tony, who uses his own real handgun to scare Sol, Vinny, and Tyrone away"],["time of 48 hours is given","48 hours."]],"string":"[\n [\n \"The KGB\",\n \"the KGB\"\n ],\n [\n \"Turkish agrees to buy a caravan for Mickey's mother\",\n \"To avoid trouble after Brick Top burns down his mother's caravan while she is asleep inside\"\n ],\n [\n \"The 4th round\",\n \"The fourth round.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Boris\",\n \"Boris \"\n ],\n [\n \"Brick Top burned down Mickey's mother's caravan and killed her\",\n \"To avoid more people being killed \"\n ],\n [\n \"Because Mickey is drunk\",\n \"He got very drunk after his mother's wake.\"\n ],\n [\n \"The police found the bodies of Franky and Tony in their car\",\n \"Police found Franky and Tony's body in their car\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because it swallowed a squeaky toy\",\n \"To obtain a squeaky toy it had swallowed\"\n ],\n [\n \"Turkish\",\n \"Turkish \"\n ],\n [\n \"Vinny and Sol\",\n \"Vinny and Sol\"\n ],\n [\n \"Inside Vinny's dog\",\n \"In Vinny's dog's stomach.\"\n ],\n [\n \"A large diamond\",\n \"A diamond.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Milk splattered on Tony's windshield\",\n \"As a result of a carton of milk being thrown at his windshield\"\n ],\n [\n \"Boris\",\n \"Boris.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because Mickey did not throw the fight as Turkish promised.\",\n \"Because he was infuriated\"\n ],\n [\n \"From Boris \\\"The Blade\\\"\",\n \"An ex-KGB agent called Boris the Blade.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He agreed to place a bet for Boris.\",\n \"He went to Boris The Blade.\"\n ],\n [\n \"To get the diamond from Franky personally.\",\n \"Because Avi accidentally killed Tony\"\n ],\n [\n \"He wants a better caravan for his mother.\",\n \"He wants a better caravan for his mother \"\n ],\n [\n \"franky four fingers goes to london to see diamond dealer doug he head\",\n \"To London, to see Doug The Head.\"\n ],\n [\n \"avi flies to london because he knows franky's gambling problem\",\n \"Franky to see Doug\"\n ],\n [\n \"franky was murdered with a pistol for diamonds\",\n \"Franky\"\n ],\n [\n \"tony got accidently killed and the dog swalloed the diamond\",\n \"Tony, diamond is in the dog's stomach\"\n ],\n [\n \"tony and frankys bodies were found in the car\",\n \"Franky and Tony's\"\n ],\n [\n \"mickeys mother\",\n \"Mickey's mother\"\n ],\n [\n \"boris got killed and he wounded Tyrone \",\n \"Boris killed, Yyrone was wounded\"\n ],\n [\n \"tony and avi realised that the pistols are replicas and they gave them handguns\",\n \"Tony, who uses his own real handgun to scare Sol, Vinny, and Tyrone away\"\n ],\n [\n \"time of 48 hours is given\",\n \"48 hours.\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"aa57fa85b658afe36193562a21c4317e56c6e29a"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":25,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["the Lung-Cho Monastery--gave it me,' stammered the lama. 'He spoke\nof these.' His lean hand moved tremulously round.\n\n'Welcome, then, O lama from Tibet. Here be the images, and I am\nhere'--he glanced at the lama's face--'to gather knowledge. Come to my\noffice awhile.' The old man was trembling with excitement.\n\nThe office was but a little wooden cubicle partitioned off from the\nsculpture-lined gallery. Kim laid himself","\nThe lama held his peace. Except for the click of the rosary and a\nfaint clop-clop of Mahbub's retreating feet, the soft, smoky silence of\nevening in India wrapped them close.\n\n'Hear me! I bring news.'\n\n'But let us--'\n\nOut shot the long yellow hand compelling silence. Kim tucked his feet\nunder his robe-edge obediently.\n\n'Hear me! I bring news! The Search is finished. Comes now the\nR","\n\n'But I see now that he was but sent for a purpose. By this I know that\nI shall find a certain River for which I seek.'\n\n'The River of the Arrow?' said Kim, with a superior smile.\n\n'Is this yet another Sending?' cried the lama. 'To none have I spoken\nof my search, save to the Priest of the Images. Who art thou?'\n\n'Thy chela,' said Kim simply, sitting on his heels. 'I have never seen\nanyone like to thee in all this","'And if you\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\nto interfere.'\n\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\nwatched the lama's face.\n\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by","acquired merit,' says the lama. 'Merit greater than your\nknowing. And ye will return to the Hills,' he sighs.\n\n'Surely. The high Hills as soon as may be.' The bearer rubs his\nshoulder, drinks water, spits it out again, and readjusts his grass\nsandal. Kim--his face is drawn and tired--pays very small silver from\nhis belt, heaves out the food-bag, crams an oilskin packet--they are\nholy writings--into his bosom, and","to a\nlousy Tibetan; but ask my Baltis over yonder behind the camels. They\nmay value your blessings. Oh, horseboys, here is a countryman of\nyours. See if he be hungry.'\n\nA shaven, crouching Balti, who had come down with the horses, and who\nwas nominally some sort of degraded Buddhist, fawned upon the priest,\nand in thick gutturals besought the Holy One to sit at the horseboys'\nfire.\n\n'Go!' said Kim, pushing him","father would have done if\nhe was drunk. We'd better invite the holy man. He may know something.'\n\n'He does not know anything,' said Kim. 'I will show you him if you\ncome. He is my master. Then afterwards we can go.'\n\n'Powers of Darkness!' was all that Father Victor could say, as Bennett\nmarched off, with a firm hand on Kim's shoulder.\n\nThey found the lama where he had dropped.\n\n'The Search is at an end for me,' shouted Kim in the ver",", there came one seeking\nEnlightenment--a man from Leh--that had been, he said, a Hindu, but\nwearied of all those Gods.' The lama pointed to the Arhats.\n\n'A fat man?' said Kim, a twinkle in his eye.\n\n'Very fat; but I perceived in a little his mind was wholly given up to\nuseless things--such as devils and charms and the form and fashion of\nour tea-drinkings in the monasteries, and by what road we initiated the\nnovices. ","\n'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more.\nHe says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants to\nbe washed of his sins.'\n\nNeither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready.\n\nSaid Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you\nwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\nhere to find the Red Bull","will give him strength. Make a\ncharm! Call on thy great God. Thou art a priest.' She turned away.\n\nThe lama had squatted limply, still holding by the door-post. One\ncannot strike down an old man that he recovers again like a boy in the\nnight. Weakness bowed him to the earth, but his eyes that hung on Kim\nwere alive and imploring.\n\n'It is all well,' said Kim. 'It is the thin air that weakens thee. In\na little while","me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart\nto see that lama?'\n\n'It is one part of my bond,' said Kim. 'If I do not see him, and if he\nis taken from me, I will go out of that madrissah in Nucklao and,\nand--once gone, who is to find me again?'\n\n'It is true. Never was colt held on a lighter heel-rope than thou.'\nMahbub nodded his head.\n\n'Do not be afraid.' Kim spoke as though he","s shoulder.\n\nThey found the lama where he had dropped.\n\n'The Search is at an end for me,' shouted Kim in the vernacular. 'I\nhave found the Bull, but God knows what comes next. They will not hurt\nyou. Come to the fat priest's tent with this thin man and see the end.\nIt is all new, and they cannot talk Hindi. They are only uncurried\ndonkeys.'\n\n'Then it is not well to make a jest of their ignorance,' the lama\nreturned. 'I am","and the money upon a paper and give it\nhim.\" And he says you must write your name below, because he is going\nto write a letter in some days to you. He says you are a good man. He\nsays the other man is a fool. He is going away.'\n\nThe lama rose suddenly. 'I follow my Search,' he cried, and was gone.\n\n'He'll run slap into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as\nthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim","at his eyes--hollow and sunk--and the Betraying Line from the nose\ndown! He has been sifted out! Fie! Fie! And a priest, too!'\n\nKim looked up, over-weary to smile, shaking his head in denial.\n\n'Do not jest,' said the lama. 'That time is done. We are here upon\ngreat matters. A sickness of soul took me in the Hills, and him a\nsickness of the body. Since then I have lived upon his\n","drawn.'\n\n'And his to thine, I hear. Hearts are like horses. They come and they\ngo against bit or spur. Shout Gul Sher Khan yonder to drive in that\nbay stallion's pickets more firmly. We do not want a horse-fight at\nevery resting-stage, and the dun and the black will be locked in a\nlittle ... Now hear me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart\nto see that lama?'\n\n'It is one part of my bond,' said Kim","at the lama's simple, eager face and doubt him long.\n\n'Seest thou my chela?' he said, diving into his snuff-gourd with an\nimportant sniff. It was his duty to repay courtesy with courtesy.\n\n'I see--and hear.' The headman rolled his eye where Kim was chatting\nto a girl in blue as she laid crackling thorns on a fire.\n\n'He also has a Search of his own. No river, but a Bull. Yea, a Red\nBull on a green","arances. But he spoke well of my chela, who now enters upon his\nreward. Let me make the prayer! ... Wake, O fortunate above all born\nof women. Wake! It is found!'\n\nKim came up from those deep wells, and the lama attended his yawning\npleasure; duly snapping fingers to head off evil spirits.\n\n'I have slept a hundred years. Where--? Holy One, hast thou been here\nlong? I went out to look for thee, but'--he","because he was an old man, because he sought the\nWay, because he was their guest, and because he collogued long of\nnights with the head-priest--as free-thinking a metaphysician as ever\nsplit one hair into seventy--they murmured assent.\n\n'Remember,'--Kim bent over the child--. 'this trouble may come again.'\n\n'Not if thou hast the proper spell,' said the father.\n\n'But in a little while we go away.'\n\n'True,' said the lama to all the Jains","the lamplight made his face\nred-gold.\n\nBennett looked at him with the triple-ringed uninterest of the creed\nthat lumps nine-tenths of the world under the title of 'heathen'.\n\n'And what was the end of the Search? What gift has the Red Bull\nbrought?' The lama addressed himself to Kim.\n\n'He says, \"What are you going to do?\"' Bennett was staring uneasily at\nFather Victor, and Kim, for his own ends, took upon himself the office\nof","anxious to see more of that Red Bull.'\n\n'But how canst thou understand the talk? Walk slowly. The road is\ndark,' the lama replied uneasily.\n\nKim put the question aside. 'I marked a place near to the trees,' said\nhe, 'where thou canst sit till I call. Nay,' as the lama made some\nsort of protest, 'remember this is my Search--the Search for my Red\nBull. The sign in the Stars was not for thee. I know a little of the\ncustoms"],["of\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\n\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\nimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would go\nnorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor\nwould arrange for him.\n\n'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thought\nmore.\n\n'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\nkeep you out of mischief. You"," Meantime, if the Sahibs were to be\nimpressed, he would do his best to impress them. He too was a white\nman.\n\nAfter much talk that he could not comprehend, they handed him over to a\nsergeant, who had strict instructions not to let him escape. The\nRegiment would go on to Umballa, and Kim would be sent up, partly at\nthe expense of the Lodge and in part by subscription, to a place called\nSanawar.\n\n'It's miraculous past all whooping, Colonel,'","into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as\nthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim made swift\nmotion to follow, but checked himself. There was no sound of challenge\noutside. The lama had disappeared.\n\nKim settled himself composedly on the Chaplain's cot. At least the\nlama had promised that he would stay with the Raiput woman from Kulu,\nand the rest was of the smallest importance. It pleased him that the\ntwo padres were so evidently excited.","\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\n\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\n\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher","odge and in part by subscription, to a place called\nSanawar.\n\n'It's miraculous past all whooping, Colonel,' said Father Victor, when\nhe had talked without a break for ten minutes. 'His Buddhist friend\nhas levanted after taking my name and address. I can't quite make out\nwhether he'll pay for the boy's education or whether he is preparing\nsome sort of witchcraft on his own account.' Then to Kim: 'You'll live\nto be grateful to your friend the Red Bull yet. We'll","\nwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away this\nnight, for all I wanted to see the new things.'\n\nKim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating\nthe replies to the lama.\n\nThen: 'He says, \"You take him from me and you cannot say what you will\nmake him.\" He says, \"Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing\nto make a child.\"'\n\n'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see","the shadow. No one can see beyond the light of a fire,'\nsaid Kim, his eyes still on the flag. He had never before watched the\nroutine of a seasoned regiment pitching camp in thirty minutes.\n\n'Look! look! look!' clucked the lama. 'Yonder comes a priest.' It\nwas Bennett, the Church of England Chaplain of the regiment, limping in\ndusty black. One of his flock had made some rude remarks about the\nChaplain's mettle; and to","to Mahbub Ali, Kim would have been almost depressed. The\nindifference of native crowds he was used to; but this strong\nloneliness among white men preyed on him. He was grateful when, in the\ncourse of the afternoon, a big soldier took him over to Father Victor,\nwho lived in another wing across another dusty parade-ground. The\npriest was reading an English letter written in purple ink. He looked\nat Kim more curiously than ever.\n\n'An' how do you like it, my son, as far as you've gone","ll see. You were goin' off today to the Military\nOrphanage at Sanawar, where the Regiment would keep you till you were\nold enough to enlist. Ye'd be brought up to the Church of England.\nBennett arranged for that. On the other hand, if ye go to St Xavier's\nye'll get a better education an--an can have the religion. D'ye see my\ndilemma? Kim saw nothing save a vision of the lama going south in a\ntrain with none to beg for him.\n\n'","him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet and\nswaddle him in these clothes. Then he will forget all he knows. Now,\nwhich of the barracks is thine?'\n\nKim pointed--he could not speak--to Father Victor's wing, all staring\nwhite near by.\n\n'Perhaps he will make a good soldier,' said Mahbub reflectively.\n\n'He will make a good orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a message\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\nstallion","regiment.\n\n'There is the Padre!' Kim choked as bare-headed Father Victor sailed\ndown upon them from the veranda.\n\n'Powers O' Darkness below, O'Hara! How many more mixed friends do you\nkeep in Asia?' he cried, as Kim slid down and stood helplessly before\nhim.\n\n'Good morning, Padre,' the Englishman said cheerily. 'I know you by\nreputation well enough. Meant to have come over and called before\nthis. I'm Creighton","; I am\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\n\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If","and the money upon a paper and give it\nhim.\" And he says you must write your name below, because he is going\nto write a letter in some days to you. He says you are a good man. He\nsays the other man is a fool. He is going away.'\n\nThe lama rose suddenly. 'I follow my Search,' he cried, and was gone.\n\n'He'll run slap into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as\nthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim","the Masonic Orphanage the better.'\n\n'Ah! That's your opinion as Secretary to the Regimental Lodge,' said\nFather Victor; 'but we might as well tell the old man what we are going\nto do. He doesn't look like a villain.'\n\n'My experience is that one can never fathom the Oriental mind. Now,\nKimball, I wish you to tell this man what I say word for word.'\n\nKim gathered the import of the next few sentences and began thus:\n\n'Holy One, the","scapular,' said he, opening his hand. 'No, some sort of heathen\ncharm. Why--why, do you speak English? Little boys who steal are\nbeaten. You know that?'\n\n'I do not--I did not steal.' Kim danced in agony like a terrier at a\nlifted stick. 'Oh, give it me. It is my charm. Do not thieve it from\nme.'\n\nThe Chaplain took no heed, but, going to the tent door, called aloud.\n","I'm fairly at my wits' end.'\n\n'He says he will give me three hundred rupees a year? So he will give\nme them.'\n\n'Oh, that's the way you look at it, is it?'\n\n'Of course. If he says so!'\n\nThe priest whistled; then he addressed Kim as an equal. 'I don't\nbelieve it; but we'll see. You were goin' off today to the Military\nOrphanage at Sanawar, where the Regiment would keep you till you were","um?' His Hindustani was very\nlimited, and the ruffled and disgusted Kim intended to keep to the\ncharacter laid down for him. As he recovered his breath he was\ninventing a beautifully plausible tale of his relations to some\nscullion, and at the same time keeping a keen eye on and a little under\nthe Chaplain's left arm-pit. The chance came; he ducked for the\ndoorway, but a long arm shot out and clutched at his neck, snapping the\namulet-string and closing on the am",".\"'\n\nThe old man rose stiffly and saluted.\n\n'\"For\"'--Kim translated into the vernacular the clinching sentences he\nhad heard in the dressing-room at Umballa--'\"For,\" says He, \"we should\nhave done this long ago. It is not war--it is a chastisement. Snff!\"'\n\n'Enough. I believe. I have seen Him thus in the smoke of battles.\nSeen and heard. It is He!'\n\n'I saw no smoke'--Kim'","and tongue-tied.\n\n'My horse is well trained,' said the dealer. 'Others would have\nkicked, Sahib.'\n\n'Ah,' said the Englishman at last, rubbing his pony's damp withers with\nhis whip-butt. 'Who makes the boy a soldier?'\n\n'He says the Regiment that found him, and especially the Padre-sahib of\nthat regiment.\n\n'There is the Padre!' Kim choked as bare-headed Father Victor sailed\ndown upon them from the veranda","road, hailed a\npassing cart and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the\nbrass betel-box in his hands.\n\nThe record of a boy's education interests few save his parents, and, as\nyou know, Kim was an orphan. It is written in the books of St Xavier's\nin Partibus that a report of Kim's progress was forwarded at the end of\neach term to Colonel Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose hands\nduly came the money for his schooling. "],["; I am\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\n\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If","you have passed all your\nexaminations, and will soon obtain Government appointment. Oh ho! You\nare on acting-allowance, you see: so if you are called upon to help\nSons of the Charm mind you jolly-well try. Now I shall say good-bye, my\ndear fellow, and I hope you--ah--will come out top-side all raight.'\n\nHurree Babu stepped back a pace or two into the crowd at the entrance\nof Lucknow station and--was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and hugged\n","of\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\n\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\nimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would go\nnorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor\nwould arrange for him.\n\n'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thought\nmore.\n\n'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\nkeep you out of mischief. You","\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\n\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\n\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher",". So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\nemployment.\n\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No","better learning is given?' The lama\ndisregarded Kim's plans for an early flight. 'It is no wrong to pay\nfor learning. To help the ignorant to wisdom is always a merit.' The\nrosary clicked furiously as an abacus. Then he faced his oppressors.\n\n'Ask them for how much money do they give a wise and suitable teaching?\nAnd in what city is that teaching given?'\n\n'Well,' said Father Victor in English, when Kim had translated, 'that\ndepends. The Regiment would pay for you","him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet and\nswaddle him in these clothes. Then he will forget all he knows. Now,\nwhich of the barracks is thine?'\n\nKim pointed--he could not speak--to Father Victor's wing, all staring\nwhite near by.\n\n'Perhaps he will make a good soldier,' said Mahbub reflectively.\n\n'He will make a good orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a message\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\nstallion","a hand to show that the matter was finally settled in\nhis mind.\n\n'Now,'--his tone altered as he turned to Kim,--'what will they do with\nthee? At least I may, acquiring merit, wipe out past ill.'\n\n'Make me a Sahib--so they think. The day after tomorrow I return. Do\nnot grieve.'\n\n'Of what sort? Such an one as this or that man?' He pointed to Father\nVictor. 'Such an one as those I saw this evening, men wearing sw","\nwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away this\nnight, for all I wanted to see the new things.'\n\nKim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating\nthe replies to the lama.\n\nThen: 'He says, \"You take him from me and you cannot say what you will\nmake him.\" He says, \"Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing\nto make a child.\"'\n\n'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see","ah I will go. At the madrissah I will learn. In the\nmadrissah I will be a Sahib. But when the madrissah is shut, then must\nI be free and go among my people. Otherwise I die!'\n\n'And who are thy people, Friend of all the World?'\n\n'This great and beautiful land,' said Kim, waving his paw round the\nlittle clay-walled room where the oil-lamp in its niche burned heavily\nthrough the tobacco-smoke. 'And, further,","\n\n'But I see now that he was but sent for a purpose. By this I know that\nI shall find a certain River for which I seek.'\n\n'The River of the Arrow?' said Kim, with a superior smile.\n\n'Is this yet another Sending?' cried the lama. 'To none have I spoken\nof my search, save to the Priest of the Images. Who art thou?'\n\n'Thy chela,' said Kim simply, sitting on his heels. 'I have never seen\nanyone like to thee in all this","would have told his master.\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\ntheir way up from Quetta to the North. The Game is so large that one\nsees but a little at a time.'\n\n'Oho!' said Kim, and held his tongue. That was in the monsoon\nholidays, after he had taken the prize for mathematics. The Christmas\nholidays he spent--deducting ten days for private amusements--with\nLurgan Sahib, where he sat for the most part in front","'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\nkeep you out of mischief. You can go up with young De Castro as far as\nDelhi.'\n\nKim considered it in every possible light. He had been diligent, even\nas the Colonel advised. A boy's holiday was his own property--of so\nmuch the talk of his companions had advised him,--and a barrack-school\nwould be torment after St Xavier's. Moreover--this was magic worth\nanything else","meal at Kalka, he spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school?\nThen he, an M A of Calcutta University, would explain the advantages of\neducation. There were marks to be gained by due attention to Latin and\nWordsworth's Excursion (all this was Greek to Kim). French, too was\nvital, and the best was to be picked up in Chandernagore a few miles\nfrom Calcutta. Also a man might go far, as he himself had done, by\nstrict attention to plays called Lear and Julius",",\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\n\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\nevery time he","gan's impassive face changed. He considered the years\nto come when Kim would have been entered and made to the Great Game\nthat never ceases day and night, throughout India. He foresaw honour\nand credit in the mouths of a chosen few, coming to him from his pupil.\nLurgan Sahib had made E.23 what E.23 was, out of a bewildered,\nimpertinent, lying, little North-West Province man.\n\nBut the joy of these masters was pale and smoky beside the joy of Kim\n","craft on his own account.' Then to Kim: 'You'll live\nto be grateful to your friend the Red Bull yet. We'll make a man of\nyou at Sanawar--even at the price o' making you a Protestant.'\n\n'Certainly--most certainly,' said Bennett.\n\n'But you will not go to Sanawar,' said Kim.\n\n'But we will go to Sanawar, little man. That's the order of the\nCommander-in-Chief, who's a trifle more important than O'","a pensioner at Chunar, hinted very broadly that Colonel\nCreighton's interest in Kim was directly paternal; and Kim, instead of\nretaliating, did not even use language. He was thinking of the immense\nfun to come, of Mahbub's letter of the day before, all neatly written\nin English, making appointment for that afternoon in a house the very\nname of which would have crisped the Principal's hair with horror...\n\nSaid Kim to Mahbub in Lucknow railway station that evening, above the\nlug","\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\n\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\n\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\ntale of the thief and the search?'\n\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l","road, hailed a\npassing cart and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the\nbrass betel-box in his hands.\n\nThe record of a boy's education interests few save his parents, and, as\nyou know, Kim was an orphan. It is written in the books of St Xavier's\nin Partibus that a report of Kim's progress was forwarded at the end of\neach term to Colonel Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose hands\nduly came the money for his schooling. "],["informed by a kindly Northern Power that there was a leakage\nof news from their territories into British India. So those Kings'\nPrime Ministers were seriously annoyed and took steps, after the\nOriental fashion. They suspected, among many others, the bullying,\nred-bearded horsedealer whose caravans ploughed through their\nfastnesses belly-deep in snow. At least, his caravan that season had\nbeen ambushed and shot at twice on the way down, when Mahbub's men\naccounted for three strange r","7 and M4--quite true. It concerned all manner of out-of-the-way\nmountain principalities, explorers of nationalities other than English,\nand the guntrade--was, in brief, a small portion of that vast mass of\n'information received' on which the Indian Government acts. But,\nrecently, five confederated Kings, who had no business to confederate,\nhad been informed by a kindly Northern Power that there was a leakage\nof news from their territories into British India. So those Kings'\nPrime","an original,' said the taller of the two\nforeigners. 'He is like the nightmare of a Viennese courier.'\n\n'He represents in little India in transition--the monstrous hybridism\nof East and West,' the Russian replied. 'It is we who can deal with\nOrientals.'\n\n'He has lost his own country and has not acquired any other. But he\nhas a most complete hatred of his conquerors. Listen. He confided to\nme last night,' said the other.\n\nUnder the striped umbrella Hur","beastly throats.'\n\nWhen he presented himself again he was racked with a\nheadache--penitent, and volubly afraid that in his drunkenness he might\nhave been indiscreet. He loved the British Government--it was the\nsource of all prosperity and honour, and his master at Rampur held the\nvery same opinion. Upon this the men began to deride him and to quote\npast words, till step by step, with deprecating smirks, oily grins, and\nleers of infinite cunning, the poor Bab","till the tears ran down his\ncheeks for the miseries of his land. Then he staggered off, singing\nlove-songs of Lower Bengal, and collapsed upon a wet tree-trunk. Never\nwas so unfortunate a product of English rule in India more unhappily\nthrust upon aliens.\n\n'They are all just of that pattern,' said one sportsman to the other in\nFrench. 'When we get into India proper thou wilt see. I should like\nto visit his Rajah. One might speak the good word there. It is",". Kim\nsaw their heads bent over Mahbub Ali's message, and heard the\nvoices--one low and deferential, the other sharp and decisive.\n\n'It isn't a question of weeks. It is a question of days--hours\nalmost,' said the elder. 'I'd been expecting it for some time, but\nthis'--he tapped Mahbub Ali's paper--'clinches it. Grogan's dining\nhere to-night, isn't he?'\n\n'Yes, sir, and","in his\nbosom.\n\n'That soldier is a small fish,' Mahbub Ali explained, 'but in time we\nshall catch the larger one. He only sells oxen at two prices--one for\nhimself and one for the Government--which I do not think is a sin.'\n\n'Why could not I take away the little book and be done with it?'\n\n'Then he would have been frightened, and he would have told his master.\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\ntheir way up from Quetta to",",\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\n\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\nevery time he","curious\ndevelopments.\n\nAnd there was that on Mahbub Ali which he did not wish to keep an hour\nlonger than was necessary--a wad of closely folded tissue-paper,\nwrapped in oilskin--an impersonal, unaddressed statement, with five\nmicroscopic pin-holes in one corner, that most scandalously betrayed\nthe five confederated Kings, the sympathetic Northern Power, a Hindu\nbanker in Peshawur, a firm of gun-makers in Belgium, and an important,\nsemi-independent Mohammedan rul","'And if you\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\nto interfere.'\n\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\nwatched the lama's face.\n\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by","\nThe lama held his peace. Except for the click of the rosary and a\nfaint clop-clop of Mahbub's retreating feet, the soft, smoky silence of\nevening in India wrapped them close.\n\n'Hear me! I bring news.'\n\n'But let us--'\n\nOut shot the long yellow hand compelling silence. Kim tucked his feet\nunder his robe-edge obediently.\n\n'Hear me! I bring news! The Search is finished. Comes now the\nR","in an auspicious\nmoment, he removed a little vellum ledger which he copied out--it\nseemed to deal entirely with cattle and camel sales--by moonlight,\nlying behind an outhouse, all through one hot night. Then he returned\nthe ledger to its place, and, at Mahbub's word, left that service\nunpaid, rejoining him six miles down the road, the clean copy in his\nbosom.\n\n'That soldier is a small fish,' Mahbub Ali explained, 'but in time we\nshall catch the","get into India proper thou wilt see. I should like\nto visit his Rajah. One might speak the good word there. It is\npossible that he has heard of us and wishes to signify his good-will.'\n\n'We have not time. We must get into Simla as soon as may be,' his\ncompanion replied. 'For my own part, I wish our reports had been sent\nback from Hilas, or even Leh.'\n\n'The English post is better and safer. Remember we are given all\nfacilities--and Name of God","\n\nHurree Babu reached for the pipe, and sucked it till it gurgled again.\n\n'Now I will speak vernacular. You sit tight, Mister O'Hara ... It\nconcerns the pedigree of a white stallion.'\n\n'Still? That was finished long ago.'\n\n'When everyone is dead the Great Game is finished. Not before. Listen\nto me till the end. There were Five Kings who prepared a sudden war\nthree years ago, when thou wast given the stallion's pedig","beastly English pride.\nYou think no one dare conspire! That is all tommy-rott.'\n\nKim smoked slowly, revolving the business, so far as he understood it,\nin his quick mind.\n\n'Then thou goest forth to follow the strangers?'\n\n'No. To meet them. They are coming in to Simla to send down their\nhorns and heads to be dressed at Calcutta. They are exclusively\nsporting gentlemen, and they are allowed special faceelities by the\nGovernment. Of course,","shall rise again and you\nshall not know me. How much did you bet--eh?'\n\nHe chewed leisurely upon a few cardamom seeds, but he breathed uneasily.\n\n'But why come here, Babuji?'\n\n'Ah! Thatt is the question, as Shakespeare hath it. I come to\ncongratulate you on your extraordinary effeecient performance at Delhi.\nOah! I tell you we are all proud of you. It was verree neat and\nhandy. Our mutual friend, he is","and stuffed her\nmouth with pan--'These be the sort to oversee justice. They know the\nland and the customs of the land. The others, all new from Europe,\nsuckled by white women and learning our tongues from books, are worse\nthan the pestilence. They do harm to Kings.' Then she told a long,\nlong tale to the world at large, of an ignorant young policeman who had\ndisturbed some small Hill Rajah, a ninth cousin of her own, in the\nmatter of a trivial land-case, winding up","Hurree returned to his English with a jerk: \"'By Jove,\" I\nsaid, \"why the dooce do you not issue demi-offeecial orders to some\nbrave man to poison them, for an example? It is, if you permit the\nobservation, most reprehensible laxity on your part.\" And Colonel\nCreighton, he laughed at me! It is all your beastly English pride.\nYou think no one dare conspire! That is all tommy-rott.'\n\nKim smoked slowly,","not know where deuce-an'-all the papers were, and if so, how many. So\nwhen I had come down here I slipped in private wire to Mahbub--he was\nat Meerut for races--and I tell him how case stands. He comes up with\nhis men and he consorts with the lama, and then he calls me a fool, and\nis very rude--'\n\n'But wherefore--wherefore?'\n\n'That is what I ask. I only suggest that if anyone steals the papers I\nshould like some good strong,","from the Road. Then he goes to see the boy at the madrissah, as we\nknow for the boy was punished for it twice or thrice. He is quite mad,\nbut a peaceful man. I have met him. The Babu also has had dealings\nwith him. We have watched him for three years. Red Lamas are not so\ncommon in Hind that one loses track.'\n\n'Babus are very curious,' said Lurgan meditatively. 'Do you know what\nHurree Babu really wants? He"],["things all the while. Therefore sit still for three days\nand do not run away. Thou wilt go to school at Lucknow.'\n\n'Shall I meet my Holy One there?' Kim whimpered.\n\n'At least Lucknow is nearer to Benares than Umballa. It may be thou\nwilt go under my protection. Mahbub Ali knows this, and he will be\nangry if thou returnest to the Road now. Remember--much has been told\nme which I do not forget.'\n\n'I will wait,'","of\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\n\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\nimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would go\nnorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor\nwould arrange for him.\n\n'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thought\nmore.\n\n'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\nkeep you out of mischief. You","centre of all idleness, intrigue, and luxury, and shares with Delhi the\nclaim to talk the only pure Urdu.\n\n'A fair city--a beautiful city.' The driver, as a Lucknow man, was\npleased with the compliment, and told Kim many astounding things where\nan English guide would have talked of the Mutiny.\n\n'Now we will go to the school,' said Kim at last. The great old school\nof St Xavier's in Partibus, block on block of low white buildings,\nstands in vast grounds over against","is made. In a little while thou goest to\nNucklao, and--here is something to pay the letter-writer. I shall see\nthee again, I think, many times,' and he cantered off down the road.\n\n'Listen to me,' said the Colonel from the veranda, speaking in the\nvernacular. 'In three days thou wilt go with me to Lucknow, seeing and\nhearing new things all the while. Therefore sit still for three days\nand do not run away. Thou wilt go to school at Lucknow.'\n","three.\n\nNone the less he remembered to hold himself lowly. When tales were\ntold of hot nights, Kim did not sweep the board with his reminiscences;\nfor St Xavier's looks down on boys who 'go native all-together.' One\nmust never forget that one is a Sahib, and that some day, when\nexaminations are passed, one will command natives. Kim made a note of\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\n\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\nimposed by","so much white arsenic when, if he had asked, I could have\ngiven it--except my boy here I have not in a long time met with one\nbetter worth teaching. And there are ten days more ere thou canst\nreturn to Lucknao where they teach nothing--at the long price. We\nshall, I think, be friends.'\n\nThey were a most mad ten days, but Kim enjoyed himself too much to\nreflect on their craziness. In the morning they played the Jewel\nGame--sometimes with veritable stones, sometimes with piles of","of the long twenty-four hours' run south\ndid the Colonel send for Kim, always developing this latter text.\n\n'We be all on one lead-rope, then,' said Kim at last, 'the Colonel,\nMahbub Ali, and I--when I become a chain-man. He will use me as Mahbub\nAli employed me, I think. That is good, if it allows me to return to\nthe Road again. This clothing grows no easier by wear.'\n\nWhen they came to the crowded Lucknow station there was no sign of the\nl","a pensioner at Chunar, hinted very broadly that Colonel\nCreighton's interest in Kim was directly paternal; and Kim, instead of\nretaliating, did not even use language. He was thinking of the immense\nfun to come, of Mahbub's letter of the day before, all neatly written\nin English, making appointment for that afternoon in a house the very\nname of which would have crisped the Principal's hair with horror...\n\nSaid Kim to Mahbub in Lucknow railway station that evening, above the\nlug","\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\n\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\n\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher","must\nnot become proud and you must not talk. You must go back to Lucknow\nand be a good little boy and mind your book, as the English say, and\nperhaps, next holidays if you care, you can come back to me!' Kim's\nface fell. 'Oh, I mean if you like. I know where you want to go.'\n\nFour days later a seat was booked for Kim and his small trunk at the\nrear of a Kalka tonga. His companion was the whale-like Babu, who,\nwith a","meal at Kalka, he spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school?\nThen he, an M A of Calcutta University, would explain the advantages of\neducation. There were marks to be gained by due attention to Latin and\nWordsworth's Excursion (all this was Greek to Kim). French, too was\nvital, and the best was to be picked up in Chandernagore a few miles\nfrom Calcutta. Also a man might go far, as he himself had done, by\nstrict attention to plays called Lear and Julius","'I knew a very long time ago.'\n\n'Who told?'\n\n'The Colonel Sahib himself. Not in those many words, but plainly\nenough for one who is not altogether a mud-head. Yea, he told me in\nthe te-rain when we went down to Lucknow.'\n\n'Be it so. Then I will tell thee more, Friend of all the World, though\nin the telling I lend thee my head.'\n\n'It was forfeit to me,' said Kim, with deep relish, 'in U","; I am\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\n\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If",". So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\nemployment.\n\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No","ped the Principal's hair with horror...\n\nSaid Kim to Mahbub in Lucknow railway station that evening, above the\nluggage-scales: 'I feared lest at the last, the roof would fall upon\nme and cheat me. It is indeed all finished, O my father?'\n\nMahbub snapped his fingers to show the utterness of that end, and his\neyes blazed like red coals.\n\n'Then where is the pistol that I may wear it?'\n\n'Softly! A half-year, to","Xavier's in\nPartibus at Lucknow.' This took some time to interpret, for Bennett\nwished to cut it short.\n\n'He wants to know how much?' said Kim placidly.\n\n'Two or three hundred rupees a year.' Father Victor was long past any\nsense of amazement. Bennett, impatient, did not understand.\n\n'He says: \"Write that name and the money upon a paper and give it\nhim.\" And he says you must write your name below, because he is going\nto write a letter","him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet and\nswaddle him in these clothes. Then he will forget all he knows. Now,\nwhich of the barracks is thine?'\n\nKim pointed--he could not speak--to Father Victor's wing, all staring\nwhite near by.\n\n'Perhaps he will make a good soldier,' said Mahbub reflectively.\n\n'He will make a good orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a message\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\nstallion","World'--Kim started at the title.\n'Would I had a few of the years that so irk thee. I have proved thee\nin several small ways. This will not be forgotten when I make my\nreport to the Colonel Sahib.' Then, changing suddenly into English\nwith a deep laugh:\n\n'By Jove! O'Hara, I think there is a great deal in you; but you must\nnot become proud and you must not talk. You must go back to Lucknow\nand be a good little boy and mind your book, as","\nfever, and that he would pick up his master at Umballa. As the\noccupants of the carriage changed, he varied this tale, or adorned it\nwith all the shoots of a budding fancy, the more rampant for being held\noff native speech so long. In all India that night was no human being\nso joyful as Kim. At Umballa he got out and headed eastward, plashing\nover the sodden fields to the village where the old soldier lived.\n\nAbout this time Colonel Creighton at Simla was advised from Lucknow","as he scuttled into\nthe carriage.\n\nIt took him nearly five minutes to recover. Then he sniffed the new\nair appreciatively. 'A rich city,' he said. 'Richer than Lahore. How\ngood the bazars must be! Coachman, drive me a little through the\nbazars here.'\n\n'My order is to take thee to the school.' The driver used the 'thou',\nwhich is rudeness when applied to a white man. In the clearest and\nmost fluent vernacular Kim pointed"],["; I am\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\n\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If","later. Mahbub had\ngone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim\nmet him on the Kalka road at dusk riding alone, begged an alms of him,\nwas sworn at, and replied in English. There was nobody within earshot\nto hear Mahbub's gasp of amazement.\n\n'Oho! And where hast thou been?'\n\n'Up and down--down and up.'\n\n'Come under a tree, out of the wet, and tell.'\n\n'I stayed for","and sat\ndown on a patch of ruddy leopard's skin as Kim rose at the call for the\nBenares train.\n\n'Go in hope, little brother,' he said. 'It is a long road to the feet\nof the One; but thither do we all travel.'\n\nKim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he had sat out twenty\nmiles in the crowded compartment, was cheering his neighbours with a\nstring of most wonderful yarns about his own and his master's magical\ngifts.\n\nBena","\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\n\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\n\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\ntale of the thief and the search?'\n\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l","of\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\n\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\nimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would go\nnorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor\nwould arrange for him.\n\n'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thought\nmore.\n\n'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\nkeep you out of mischief. You","It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\n\n'Protector of the Poor!'\n\nThe man backed towards the voice.\n\n'Mahb"," Alas! It is a great and terrible\nworld.'\n\nKim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried his\nown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck.\nMahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his\nEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,\nmade him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the","would have told his master.\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\ntheir way up from Quetta to the North. The Game is so large that one\nsees but a little at a time.'\n\n'Oho!' said Kim, and held his tongue. That was in the monsoon\nholidays, after he had taken the prize for mathematics. The Christmas\nholidays he spent--deducting ten days for private amusements--with\nLurgan Sahib, where he sat for the most part in front",". So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\nemployment.\n\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No","gan's impassive face changed. He considered the years\nto come when Kim would have been entered and made to the Great Game\nthat never ceases day and night, throughout India. He foresaw honour\nand credit in the mouths of a chosen few, coming to him from his pupil.\nLurgan Sahib had made E.23 what E.23 was, out of a bewildered,\nimpertinent, lying, little North-West Province man.\n\nBut the joy of these masters was pale and smoky beside the joy of Kim\n","ah I will go. At the madrissah I will learn. In the\nmadrissah I will be a Sahib. But when the madrissah is shut, then must\nI be free and go among my people. Otherwise I die!'\n\n'And who are thy people, Friend of all the World?'\n\n'This great and beautiful land,' said Kim, waving his paw round the\nlittle clay-walled room where the oil-lamp in its niche burned heavily\nthrough the tobacco-smoke. 'And, further,","beating.'\n\n'Allah! What is a beating when the very head is loose on the\nshoulders?'\n\nKim slid out quietly into the night, walked half round the house,\nkeeping close to the walls, and headed away from the station for a mile\nor so. Then, fetching a wide compass, he worked back at leisure, for\nhe needed time to invent a story if any of Mahbub's retainers asked\nquestions.\n\nThey were camped on a piece of waste ground beside the railway, and,\nbeing natives, had not,","as he had\nreached the broad road under Simla Town Hall, he cast about for one to\nimpress. A Hindu child, some ten years old, squatted under a lamp-post.\n\n'Where is Mr Lurgan's house?' demanded Kim.\n\n'I do not understand English,' was the answer, and Kim shifted his\nspeech accordingly.\n\n'I will show.'\n\nTogether they set off through the mysterious dusk, full of the noises\nof a city below the hillside, and the breath of a cool wind in\ndeodar","?' The Englishman switched at the rose-hedge in\nthe side of the drive.\n\n'Mahbub Ali has given me this proof.' Kim flipped the wad of folded\npaper into the air, and it fell in the path beside the man, who put his\nfoot on it as a gardener came round the corner. When the servant passed\nhe picked it up, dropped a rupee--Kim could hear the clink--and strode\ninto the house, never turning round. Swiftly Kim took up the money;\nbut for all his training,","a pensioner at Chunar, hinted very broadly that Colonel\nCreighton's interest in Kim was directly paternal; and Kim, instead of\nretaliating, did not even use language. He was thinking of the immense\nfun to come, of Mahbub's letter of the day before, all neatly written\nin English, making appointment for that afternoon in a house the very\nname of which would have crisped the Principal's hair with horror...\n\nSaid Kim to Mahbub in Lucknow railway station that evening, above the\nlug","meal at Kalka, he spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school?\nThen he, an M A of Calcutta University, would explain the advantages of\neducation. There were marks to be gained by due attention to Latin and\nWordsworth's Excursion (all this was Greek to Kim). French, too was\nvital, and the best was to be picked up in Chandernagore a few miles\nfrom Calcutta. Also a man might go far, as he himself had done, by\nstrict attention to plays called Lear and Julius","the lama between excited men and excited beasts, sidled\nalong the cloisters to the far end, nearest therailway station, where\nMahbub Ali, the horse-trader, lived when he came in from that\nmysterious land beyond the Passes of the North.\n\nKim had had many dealings with Mahbub in his little life, especially\nbetween his tenth and his thirteenth year--and the big burly Afghan,\nhis beard dyed scarlet with lime (for he was elderly and did not wish\nhis grey hairs to","revealed in a breath, but at evening\nencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of,\nthe doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee\ncows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes across\nthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks\napart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, as\nbudding physician, must accompany him.\n\n'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not","their husbands.\n\n'It is the train--only the te-rain. It will not come here. Wait!'\nAmazed at the lama's immense simplicity (he had handed him a small bag\nfull of rupees), Kim asked and paid for a ticket to Umballa. A sleepy\nclerk grunted and flung out a ticket to the next station, just six\nmiles distant.\n\n'Nay,' said Kim, scanning it with a grin. 'This may serve for farmers,\nbut I live in the city of Lahore",", who had loved him\nwithout reason, now loved him for fifty good reasons. So they enjoyed\nthemselves in high felicity, abstaining, as the Rule demands, from evil\nwords, covetous desires; not over-eating, not lying on high beds, nor\nwearing rich clothes. Their stomachs told them the time, and the\npeople brought them their food, as the saying is. They were lords of\nthe villages of Aminabad, Sahaigunge, Akrola of the Ford, and little\nPhulesa, where Kim gave"],["ain of Wisdom. We know He drew the\nbow! We know the arrow fell! We know the stream gushed! Where, then,\nis the River? My dream told me to find it. So I came. I am here. But\nwhere is the River?'\n\n'If I knew, think you I would not cry it aloud?'\n\n'By it one attains freedom from the Wheel of Things,' the lama went on,\nunheeding. 'The River of the Arrow! Think again! Some little stream,\n","Things,' the lama went on,\nunheeding. 'The River of the Arrow! Think again! Some little stream,\nmaybe--dried in the heats? But the Holy One would never so cheat an\nold man.'\n\n'I do not know. I do not know.'\n\nThe lama brought his thousand-wrinkled face once more a handsbreadth\nfrom the Englishman's. 'I see thou dost not know. Not being of the\nLaw, the matter is hid from thee.'\n\n'Ay","so leaped out, so drew away, so fumed up the Soul of\nTeshoo Lama from the Great Soul. Then a voice cried: \"The River! Take\nheed to the River!\" and I looked down upon all the world, which was as\nI had seen it before--one in time, one in place--and I saw plainly the\nRiver of the Arrow at my feet. At that hour my Soul was hampered by\nsome evil or other whereof I was not wholly cleansed, and it lay upon\nmy arms and coiled","idly\nacross country.\n\nThe lama strode after him. All that day, whenever they passed a\nstream, he had turned aside to look at it, but in no case had he\nreceived any warning that he had found his River. Insensibly, too, the\ncomfort of speaking to someone in a reasonable tongue, and of being\nproperly considered and respected as her spiritual adviser by a\nwell-born woman, had weaned his thoughts a little from the Search. And\nfurther, he was prepared to spend serene years in his quest; having","\n\n'But I see now that he was but sent for a purpose. By this I know that\nI shall find a certain River for which I seek.'\n\n'The River of the Arrow?' said Kim, with a superior smile.\n\n'Is this yet another Sending?' cried the lama. 'To none have I spoken\nof my search, save to the Priest of the Images. Who art thou?'\n\n'Thy chela,' said Kim simply, sitting on his heels. 'I have never seen\nanyone like to thee in all this","'And if you\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\nto interfere.'\n\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\nwatched the lama's face.\n\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by","as I\nunderstand, for many days' journey to the southward.'\n\n'And?'\n\n'Patience a little. To this I said that my Search came before all\nthings. She had heard many foolish legends, but this great truth of my\nRiver she had never heard. Such are the priests of the lower hills!\nShe knew the Abbot of Lung-Cho, but she did not know of my River--nor\nthe tale of the Arrow.'\n\n'And?'\n\n'I spoke therefore of the Search, and of the Way,","last it fell; and, where it touched earth, there broke\nout a stream which presently became a River, whose nature, by our\nLord's beneficence, and that merit He acquired ere He freed himself, is\nthat whoso bathes in it washes away all taint and speckle of sin.'\n\n'So it is written,' said the Curator sadly.\n\nThe lama drew a long breath. 'Where is that River? Fountain of\nWisdom, where fell the arrow?'\n\n'Alas, my brother, I do","he did not say this very loud.\n\nThe lama sighed and shrank into himself, a dingy, shapeless mass. In\nthe pauses of their talk they could hear the low droning 'Om mane pudme\nhum! Om mane pudme hum!'--and the thick click of the wooden rosary\nbeads.\n\n'It irks me,' he said at last. 'The speed and the clatter irk me.\nMoreover, my chela, I think that maybe we have over-passed that River.'\n\n'","\n'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more.\nHe says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants to\nbe washed of his sins.'\n\nNeither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready.\n\nSaid Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you\nwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\nhere to find the Red Bull","\n'We go to Benares,' said the lama, as soon as he understood the drift\nof Mahbub Ali's questions. 'The boy and I, I go to seek for a certain\nRiver.'\n\n'Maybe--but the boy?'\n\n'He is my disciple. He was sent, I think, to guide me to that River.\nSitting under a gun was I when he came suddenly. Such things have\nbefallen the fortunate to whom guidance was allowed. But I remember\nnow, he said he was of this world--a Hindu.'","\n'I was meditating in that body, and did not hear. So thus the Search\nis ended. For the merit that I have acquired, the River of the Arrow\nis here. It broke forth at our feet, as I have said. I have found it.\nSon of my Soul, I have wrenched my Soul back from the Threshold of\nFreedom to free thee from all sin--as I am free, and sinless! Just is\nthe Wheel! Certain is our deliverance! Come!'\n\nHe crossed his hands on his",". Yes, he had followed\nthe traces of the Blessed Feet throughout all India. (The Curator has\nstill in his possession a most marvellous account of his wanderings and\nmeditations.) There remained nothing more in life but to find the River\nof the Arrow. Yet it was shown to him in dreams that it was a matter\nnot to be undertaken with any hope of success unless that seeker had\nwith him the one chela appointed to bring the event to a happy issue,\nand versed in great wisdom--such wisdom as white-haired","ib\nof the Wonder House talked to him--yes, this is truth as a brother. He\nis a very holy man, from far beyond the Hills. Rest, thou. In time we\ncome to Umballa.'\n\n'But my River--the River of my healing?'\n\n'And then, if it please thee, we will go hunting for that River on\nfoot. So that we miss nothing--not even a little rivulet in a\nfield-side.'\n\n'But thou hast a Search of thine own?' The lama--very pleased that he","'I have considered that also,' the lama replied, in a shaking voice.\n'It is manifest that from time to time I shall acquire merit if before\nthat I have not found my River--by assuring myself that thy feet are\nset on wisdom. What they will teach thee I do not know, but the priest\nwrote me that no son of a Sahib in all India will be better taught than\nthou. So from time to time, therefore, I will come again. Maybe thou\nwilt be such a Sahib as he who gave me these spect","to Benares also. It crosses all streams on this side of Hind.\nNow my word to thee, Holy One, is rest here till tomorrow. Then take\nthe road' (it was the Grand Trunk Road he meant) 'and test each stream\nthat it overpasses; for, as I understand, the virtue of thy River lies\nneither in one pool nor place, but throughout its length. Then, if thy\nGods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom.'\n\n'That is well said.' The lama was much impressed by the","day rose behind Kim for a barrier to cut him off\nfrom his race and his mother-tongue. He slipped back to thinking and\ndreaming in the vernacular, and mechanically followed the lama's\nceremonial observances at eating, drinking, and the like. The old\nman's mind turned more and more to his monastery as his eyes turned to\nthe steadfast snows. His River troubled him nothing. Now and again,\nindeed, he would gaze long and long at a tuft or a twig, expecting, he\n","'But whither goest thou?'\n\n'First to Kashi [Benares]: where else? There I shall meet one of the\npure faith in a Jain temple of that city. He also is a Seeker in\nsecret, and from him haply I may learn. Maybe he will go with me to\nBuddh Gaya. Thence north and west to Kapilavastu, and there will I\nseek for the River. Nay, I will seek everywhere as I go--for the place\nis not known where the arrow fell","may be. I follow the places of His life till I come to the\nRiver of the Arrow. There is, moreover, a written paper of the hours\nof the trains that go south.'\n\n'And for food?' Lamas, as a rule, have good store of money somewhere\nabout them, but the Curator wished to make sure.\n\n'For the journey, I take up the Master's begging-bowl. Yes. Even as\nHe went so go I, forsaking the ease of my monastery. There was with me\n","Soul was hampered by\nsome evil or other whereof I was not wholly cleansed, and it lay upon\nmy arms and coiled round my waist; but I put it aside, and I cast forth\nas an eagle in my flight for the very place of the River. I pushed\naside world upon world for thy sake. I saw the River below me--the\nRiver of the Arrow--and, descending, the waters of it closed over me;\nand behold I was again in the body of Teshoo Lama, but free from sin,\n"],["the key's grate in the lock, the sticky pull\nof the slow-rending oilskin, and a quick shuffling of papers. He had\nbeen annoyed out of all reason by the knowledge that they lay below him\nthrough the sick idle days--a burden incommunicable. For that reason\nthe blood tingled through his body, when Hurree, skipping\nelephantinely, shook hands again.\n\n'This is fine! This is finest! Mister O'Hara! you have--ha! ha!\nswiped","from the Road. Then he goes to see the boy at the madrissah, as we\nknow for the boy was punished for it twice or thrice. He is quite mad,\nbut a peaceful man. I have met him. The Babu also has had dealings\nwith him. We have watched him for three years. Red Lamas are not so\ncommon in Hind that one loses track.'\n\n'Babus are very curious,' said Lurgan meditatively. 'Do you know what\nHurree Babu really wants? He","rouched lower. The war was\nbreaking out afresh. 'Have you no consideration for our loss? The\nbaggage! The baggage!' He could hear the speaker literally dancing on\nthe grass. 'Everything we bore! Everything we have secured! Our\ngains! Eight months' work! Do you know what that means? \"Decidedly\nit is we who can deal with Orientals!\" Oh, you have done well.'\n\nThey fell to it in several tongues, and Hurree smiled. Kim was with\n","\n\nHurree Babu reached for the pipe, and sucked it till it gurgled again.\n\n'Now I will speak vernacular. You sit tight, Mister O'Hara ... It\nconcerns the pedigree of a white stallion.'\n\n'Still? That was finished long ago.'\n\n'When everyone is dead the Great Game is finished. Not before. Listen\nto me till the end. There were Five Kings who prepared a sudden war\nthree years ago, when thou wast given the stallion's pedig","s head against a\nboulder.\n\n'Go back to the coolies,' whispered the Babu in his ear. 'They have\nthe baggage. The papers are in the kilta with the red top, but look\nthrough all. Take their papers, and specially the murasla [King's\nletter]. Go! The other man comes!'\n\nKim tore uphill. A revolver-bullet rang on a rock by his side, and he\ncowered partridge-wise.\n\n'If you shoot,' shouted Hurree","an original,' said the taller of the two\nforeigners. 'He is like the nightmare of a Viennese courier.'\n\n'He represents in little India in transition--the monstrous hybridism\nof East and West,' the Russian replied. 'It is we who can deal with\nOrientals.'\n\n'He has lost his own country and has not acquired any other. But he\nhas a most complete hatred of his conquerors. Listen. He confided to\nme last night,' said the other.\n\nUnder the striped umbrella Hur","his conquerors. Listen. He confided to\nme last night,' said the other.\n\nUnder the striped umbrella Hurree Babu was straining ear and brain to\nfollow the quick-poured French, and keeping both eyes on a kilta full\nof maps and documents--an extra-large one with a double red oil-skin\ncover. He did not wish to steal anything. He only desired to know\nwhat to steal, and, incidentally, how to get away when he had stolen\nit. He thanked all the Gods of Hindust","had been thinking of Hurree's last words. As a player\nof the Great Game, he was disposed just then to reverence the Babu.\n'It is a kilta with a red top full of very wonderful things, not to be\nhandled by fools.'\n\n'I said it; I said it,' cried the bearer of that burden. 'Thinkest\nthou it will betray us?'\n\n'Not if it be given to me. I can draw out its magic. Otherwise it\nwill do great harm.'\n\n'A priest always takes","rientals!\" Oh, you have done well.'\n\nThey fell to it in several tongues, and Hurree smiled. Kim was with\nthe kiltas, and in the kiltas lay eight months of good diplomacy. There\nwas no means of communicating with the boy, but he could be trusted.\nFor the rest, Hurree could so stage-manage the journey through the\nhills that Hilas, Bunar, and four hundred miles of hill-roads should\ntell the tale for a generation. Men who cannot control their own\ncoolies are little","two strangers with the levels and the compasses make\nthe Five Kings to believe that a great army will sweep the Passes\ntomorrow or the next day--Hill-people are all fools--comes the order to\nme, Hurree Babu, \"Go North and see what those strangers do.\" I say to\nCreighton Sahib, \"This is not a lawsuit, that we go about to collect\nevidence.\"' Hurree returned to his English with a jerk: \"'By Jove,\" I\nsaid, \"why the dooce do you not issue dem","murasla.' He sniffed the embroidered bag. 'That must\nbe from Hilas or Bunar, and Hurree Babu spoke truth. By Jove! It is a\nfine haul. I wish Hurree could know ... The rest must go out of the\nwindow.' He fingered a superb prismatic compass and the shiny top of a\ntheodolite. But after all, a Sahib cannot very well steal, and the\nthings might be inconvenient evidence later. He sorted out every scrap\nof manuscript,","\nworth a grain of dust in the eye. Thus do foolish women drag us from\nthe Way!'\n\nHurree Babu came out from behind the dovecote washing his teeth with\nostentatious ritual. Full-fleshed, heavy-haunched, bull-necked, and\ndeep-voiced, he did not look like 'a fearful man'. Kim signed almost\nimperceptibly that matters were in good train, and when the morning\ntoilet was over, Hurree Babu, in flowery speech, came to do honour to\nthe l","Hurree returned to his English with a jerk: \"'By Jove,\" I\nsaid, \"why the dooce do you not issue demi-offeecial orders to some\nbrave man to poison them, for an example? It is, if you permit the\nobservation, most reprehensible laxity on your part.\" And Colonel\nCreighton, he laughed at me! It is all your beastly English pride.\nYou think no one dare conspire! That is all tommy-rott.'\n\nKim smoked slowly,","ib's point of view.\n\n'The books I do not want. Besides, they are logarithms--Survey, I\nsuppose.' He laid them aside. 'The letters I do not understand, but\nColonel Creighton will. They must all be kept. The maps--they draw\nbetter maps than me--of course. All the native letters--oho!--and\nparticularly the murasla.' He sniffed the embroidered bag. 'That must\nbe from Hilas or Bunar, and Hurree Bab","you have passed all your\nexaminations, and will soon obtain Government appointment. Oh ho! You\nare on acting-allowance, you see: so if you are called upon to help\nSons of the Charm mind you jolly-well try. Now I shall say good-bye, my\ndear fellow, and I hope you--ah--will come out top-side all raight.'\n\nHurree Babu stepped back a pace or two into the crowd at the entrance\nof Lucknow station and--was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and hugged\n","the jungle of peaks. 'This is not my country,\nhakim. Easier, I think, to find one louse in a bear-skin.'\n\n'Oah, thatt is my strong points. There is no hurry for Hurree. They\nwere at Leh not so long ago. They said they had come down from the\nKarakorum with their heads and horns and all. I am onlee afraid they\nwill have sent back all their letters and compromising things from Leh\ninto Russian territoree. Of course","given full right of way. Hurree was no game-shot--the snick\nof a trigger made him change colour--but, as he himself would have\nsaid, he was 'fairly effeecient stalker', and he had raked the huge\nvalley with a pair of cheap binoculars to some purpose. Moreover, the\nwhite of worn canvas tents against green carries far. Hurree Babu had\nseen all he wanted to see when he sat on the threshing-floor of\nZiglaur, twenty miles away as the eagle flies","and four hundred miles of hill-roads should\ntell the tale for a generation. Men who cannot control their own\ncoolies are little respected in the Hills, and the hillman has a very\nkeen sense of humour.\n\n'If I had done it myself,' thought Hurree, 'it would not have been\nbetter; and, by Jove, now I think of it, of course I arranged it\nmyself. How quick I have been! Just when I ran downhill I thought it!\nThee outrage was accidental, but onlee me could","will note my action.'\n\nKim yawned and stretched himself. It was good to turn and twist within\nloose clothes once again.\n\n'What is this?' He looked curiously at the heavy duffle-stuff loaded\nwith the scents of the far North.\n\n'Oho! That is inconspicuous dress of chela attached to service of\nlamaistic lama. Complete in every particular,' said Hurree Babu,\nrolling into the balcony to clean his teeth at a goglet. 'I am of\nopeenion","ut.'\n\n'Huh!' said Kim, recognizing Hurree Babu, who smiled ingratiatingly.\n\n'And also I had honour to bring down from Lurgan your present costume.\nI am not in the habit offeecially of carrying such gauds to\nsubordinates, but'--he giggled--'your case is noted as exceptional on\nthe books. I hope Mr Lurgan will note my action.'\n\nKim yawned and stretched himself. It was good to turn and twist within\nloose clothes once again."],["idly\nacross country.\n\nThe lama strode after him. All that day, whenever they passed a\nstream, he had turned aside to look at it, but in no case had he\nreceived any warning that he had found his River. Insensibly, too, the\ncomfort of speaking to someone in a reasonable tongue, and of being\nproperly considered and respected as her spiritual adviser by a\nwell-born woman, had weaned his thoughts a little from the Search. And\nfurther, he was prepared to spend serene years in his quest; having","ain of Wisdom. We know He drew the\nbow! We know the arrow fell! We know the stream gushed! Where, then,\nis the River? My dream told me to find it. So I came. I am here. But\nwhere is the River?'\n\n'If I knew, think you I would not cry it aloud?'\n\n'By it one attains freedom from the Wheel of Things,' the lama went on,\nunheeding. 'The River of the Arrow! Think again! Some little stream,\n","\n'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more.\nHe says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants to\nbe washed of his sins.'\n\nNeither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready.\n\nSaid Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you\nwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\nhere to find the Red Bull","know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing.\nVillages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, for\nnot only has the lama given them blessings, but his disciple good\nmoney--full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve miles a day has the dooli\ntravelled, as the greasy, rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few\nSahibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dust\nfilled every fold of the imp","'And if you\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\nto interfere.'\n\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\nwatched the lama's face.\n\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by","ib\nof the Wonder House talked to him--yes, this is truth as a brother. He\nis a very holy man, from far beyond the Hills. Rest, thou. In time we\ncome to Umballa.'\n\n'But my River--the River of my healing?'\n\n'And then, if it please thee, we will go hunting for that River on\nfoot. So that we miss nothing--not even a little rivulet in a\nfield-side.'\n\n'But thou hast a Search of thine own?' The lama--very pleased that he","Things,' the lama went on,\nunheeding. 'The River of the Arrow! Think again! Some little stream,\nmaybe--dried in the heats? But the Holy One would never so cheat an\nold man.'\n\n'I do not know. I do not know.'\n\nThe lama brought his thousand-wrinkled face once more a handsbreadth\nfrom the Englishman's. 'I see thou dost not know. Not being of the\nLaw, the matter is hid from thee.'\n\n'Ay","\n\n'But I see now that he was but sent for a purpose. By this I know that\nI shall find a certain River for which I seek.'\n\n'The River of the Arrow?' said Kim, with a superior smile.\n\n'Is this yet another Sending?' cried the lama. 'To none have I spoken\nof my search, save to the Priest of the Images. Who art thou?'\n\n'Thy chela,' said Kim simply, sitting on his heels. 'I have never seen\nanyone like to thee in all this","to Benares also. It crosses all streams on this side of Hind.\nNow my word to thee, Holy One, is rest here till tomorrow. Then take\nthe road' (it was the Grand Trunk Road he meant) 'and test each stream\nthat it overpasses; for, as I understand, the virtue of thy River lies\nneither in one pool nor place, but throughout its length. Then, if thy\nGods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom.'\n\n'That is well said.' The lama was much impressed by the","he did not say this very loud.\n\nThe lama sighed and shrank into himself, a dingy, shapeless mass. In\nthe pauses of their talk they could hear the low droning 'Om mane pudme\nhum! Om mane pudme hum!'--and the thick click of the wooden rosary\nbeads.\n\n'It irks me,' he said at last. 'The speed and the clatter irk me.\nMoreover, my chela, I think that maybe we have over-passed that River.'\n\n'","river from\nwhich the Babu dragged thee?'\n\n'I was dragged from no river,' said the lama simply. 'Thou hast\nforgotten what befell. I found it by Knowledge.'\n\n'Oh, ay. True,' stammered Mahbub, divided between high indignation and\nenormous mirth. 'I had forgotten the exact run of what happened. Thou\ndidst find it knowingly.'\n\n'And to say that I would take life is--not a sin, but a madness simple.\nMy chela","'I have considered that also,' the lama replied, in a shaking voice.\n'It is manifest that from time to time I shall acquire merit if before\nthat I have not found my River--by assuring myself that thy feet are\nset on wisdom. What they will teach thee I do not know, but the priest\nwrote me that no son of a Sahib in all India will be better taught than\nthou. So from time to time, therefore, I will come again. Maybe thou\nwilt be such a Sahib as he who gave me these spect","among the fields,\nand considered the hoof-pitted bank.\n\n'Now, how wilt thou know thy River?' said Kim, squatting in the shade\nof some tall sugar-cane.\n\n'When I find it, an enlightenment will surely be given. This, I feel,\nis not the place. O littlest among the waters, if only thou couldst\ntell me where runs my River! But be thou blessed to make the fields\nbear!'\n\n'Look! Look!' Kim sprang to his side and dragged him","day rose behind Kim for a barrier to cut him off\nfrom his race and his mother-tongue. He slipped back to thinking and\ndreaming in the vernacular, and mechanically followed the lama's\nceremonial observances at eating, drinking, and the like. The old\nman's mind turned more and more to his monastery as his eyes turned to\nthe steadfast snows. His River troubled him nothing. Now and again,\nindeed, he would gaze long and long at a tuft or a twig, expecting, he\n","\n'We go to Benares,' said the lama, as soon as he understood the drift\nof Mahbub Ali's questions. 'The boy and I, I go to seek for a certain\nRiver.'\n\n'Maybe--but the boy?'\n\n'He is my disciple. He was sent, I think, to guide me to that River.\nSitting under a gun was I when he came suddenly. Such things have\nbefallen the fortunate to whom guidance was allowed. But I remember\nnow, he said he was of this world--a Hindu.'","of the crows. Even the pony felt\nthe good influence and almost broke into a trot as Kim laid a hand on\nthe stirrup-leather.\n\n'It repents me that I did not give a rupee to the shrine,' said the\nlama on the last bead of his eighty-one.\n\nThe old soldier growled in his beard, so that the lama for the first\ntime was aware of him.\n\n'Seekest thou the River also?' said he, turning.\n\n'The day is new,' was the reply"," To those who follow the\nWay there is neither black nor white, Hind nor Bhotiyal. We be all\nsouls seeking escape. No matter what thy wisdom learned among Sahibs,\nwhen we come to my River thou wilt be freed from all illusion--at my\nside. Hai! My bones ache for that River, as they ached in the\nte-rain; but my spirit sits above my bones, waiting. The Search is\nsure!'\n\n'I am answered. Is it permitted to ask a question?'\n\nThe lama","last it fell; and, where it touched earth, there broke\nout a stream which presently became a River, whose nature, by our\nLord's beneficence, and that merit He acquired ere He freed himself, is\nthat whoso bathes in it washes away all taint and speckle of sin.'\n\n'So it is written,' said the Curator sadly.\n\nThe lama drew a long breath. 'Where is that River? Fountain of\nWisdom, where fell the arrow?'\n\n'Alas, my brother, I do","\n'I was meditating in that body, and did not hear. So thus the Search\nis ended. For the merit that I have acquired, the River of the Arrow\nis here. It broke forth at our feet, as I have said. I have found it.\nSon of my Soul, I have wrenched my Soul back from the Threshold of\nFreedom to free thee from all sin--as I am free, and sinless! Just is\nthe Wheel! Certain is our deliverance! Come!'\n\nHe crossed his hands on his"," There is neither high nor low in the Middle Way.\nIf he is my chela--does--will--can anyone take him from me? for, look\nyou, without him I shall not find my River.' He wagged his head\nsolemnly.\n\n'None shall take him from thee. Go, sit among my Baltis,' said Mahbub\nAli, and the lama drifted off, soothed by the promise.\n\n'Is he not quite mad?' said Kim, coming forward to the light again.\n'Why should I lie"],["and died as poor whites die in India. His estate\nat death consisted of three papers--one he called his 'ne varietur'\nbecause those words were written below his signature thereon, and\nanother his 'clearance-certificate'. The third was Kim's\nbirth-certificate. Those things, he was used to say, in his glorious\nopium-hours, would yet make little Kimball a man. On no account was\nKim to part with them, for they belonged to a great piece of\nmagic--such magic as men pract","a corner. The breezes\nfanned over him, the parrots shrieked at him, the noises of the\npopulated house behind--squabbles, orders, and reproofs--hit on dead\nears.\n\n'I am Kim. I am Kim. And what is Kim?' His soul repeated it again\nand again.\n\nHe did not want to cry--had never felt less like crying in his\nlife--but of a sudden easy, stupid tears trickled down his nose, and\nwith an almost audible click he felt the wheels of","Kneaded to irresponsible pulp, half hypnotized\nby the perpetual flick and readjustment of the uneasy chudders that\nveiled their eyes, Kim slid ten thousand miles into slumber--thirty-six\nhours of it--sleep that soaked like rain after drought.\n\nThen she fed him, and the house spun to her clamour. She caused fowls\nto be slain; she sent for vegetables, and the sober, slow-thinking\ngardener, nigh as old as she, sweated for it; she took","is dead in Lahore city since I was very little. The\nwoman, she kept kabarri shop near where the hire-carriages are.' Kim\nbegan with a plunge, not quite sure how far the truth would serve him.\n\n'Your mother?'\n\n'No!'--with a gesture of disgust. 'She went out when I was born. My\nfather, he got these papers from the Jadoo-Gher what do you call that?'\n(Bennett nodded) 'because he was in good-standing. What do you call\nthat?'","mother, that he was the prop of the lama's declining\nyears, and that the lama would die without his care. All the carriage\nbade the guard be merciful--the banker was specially eloquent here--but\nthe guard hauled Kim on to the platform. The lama blinked--he could\nnot overtake the situation and Kim lifted up his voice and wept outside\nthe carriage window.\n\n'I am very poor. My father is dead--my mother is dead. O charitable\nones, if I am left here, who","though he spoke the\nvernacular by preference, and his mother-tongue in a clipped uncertain\nsing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the\nsmall boys of the bazar; Kim was white--a poor white of the very\npoorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him (she smoked opium,\nand pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the square where\nthe cheap cabs wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother's\nsister; but his mother had been nursemaid in","at his eyes--hollow and sunk--and the Betraying Line from the nose\ndown! He has been sifted out! Fie! Fie! And a priest, too!'\n\nKim looked up, over-weary to smile, shaking his head in denial.\n\n'Do not jest,' said the lama. 'That time is done. We are here upon\ngreat matters. A sickness of soul took me in the Hills, and him a\nsickness of the body. Since then I have lived upon his\n",". Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached\nthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white\nmen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim\ndid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful\nwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was\nhand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al\nRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian\nNights","Ever since I was a little baby.'\n\nFather Victor stepped forward quickly and opened the front of Kim's\nupper garment. 'You see, Bennett, he's not very black. What's your\nname?'\n\n'Kim.'\n\n'Or Kimball?'\n\n'Perhaps. Will you let me go away?'\n\n'What else?'\n\n'They call me Kim Rishti ke. That is Kim of the Rishti.'\n\n'What is that--\"Rishti\"?'\n\n'Eye-ris",". That is Kim of the Rishti.'\n\n'What is that--\"Rishti\"?'\n\n'Eye-rishti--that was the Regiment--my father's.'\n\n'Irish--oh, I see.'\n\n'Yess. That was how my father told me. My father, he has lived.'\n\n'Has lived where?'\n\n'Has lived. Of course he is dead--gone-out.'\n\n'Oh! That's your abrupt way of putting it, is it?'\n\nBennett interrupted","\n\nKim laughed. 'He is new. Run to your mothers' laps, and be safe.\nCome!'\n\nKim clicked round the self-registering turnstile; the old man followed\nand halted amazed. In the entrance-hall stood the larger figures of\nthe Greco-Buddhist sculptures done, savants know how long since, by\nforgotten workmen whose hands were feeling, and not unskilfully, for\nthe mysteriously transmitted Grecian touch. There were hundreds of\npieces, friezes of figures"," Kim's mother had been Irish, too.\n\nThe old man halted by Zam-Zammah and looked round till his eye fell on\nKim. The inspiration of his pilgrimage had left him for awhile, and he\nfelt old, forlorn, and very empty.\n\n'Do not sit under that gun,' said the policeman loftily.\n\n'Huh! Owl!' was Kim's retort on the lama's behalf. 'Sit under that\ngun if it please thee. When didst","revealed in a breath, but at evening\nencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of,\nthe doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee\ncows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes across\nthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks\napart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, as\nbudding physician, must accompany him.\n\n'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not","road, hailed a\npassing cart and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the\nbrass betel-box in his hands.\n\nThe record of a boy's education interests few save his parents, and, as\nyou know, Kim was an orphan. It is written in the books of St Xavier's\nin Partibus that a report of Kim's progress was forwarded at the end of\neach term to Colonel Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose hands\nduly came the money for his schooling. ","because he was an old man, because he sought the\nWay, because he was their guest, and because he collogued long of\nnights with the head-priest--as free-thinking a metaphysician as ever\nsplit one hair into seventy--they murmured assent.\n\n'Remember,'--Kim bent over the child--. 'this trouble may come again.'\n\n'Not if thou hast the proper spell,' said the father.\n\n'But in a little while we go away.'\n\n'True,' said the lama to all the Jains","evening time--her son-in-law was returned, so she did not need to go\non inspection round the farm--she won to the meat of the matter,\nexplained low-voicedly by the lama. The two old heads nodded wisely\ntogether. Kim had reeled to a room with a cot in it, and was dozing\nsoddenly. The lama had forbidden him to set blankets or get food.\n\n'I know--I know. Who but I?' she cackled. 'We who go down to the\nburn","There was no sign of Kim or the lama.\n\n'Up!' He stirred a sleeper. 'Whither went those who lay here last\neven--the lama and the boy? Is aught missing?'\n\n'Nay,' grunted the man, 'the old madman rose at second cockcrow saying\nhe would go to Benares, and the young one led him away.'\n\n'The curse of Allah on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub heartily, and\nclimbed into his own stall, growling in his","tangled ruins that he seemed to have stumbled upon two years\nago. He spoke of those places as a scholar removed from vanity, as a\nSeeker walking in humility, as an old man, wise and temperate,\nillumining knowledge with brilliant insight. Bit by bit,\ndisconnectedly, each tale called up by some wayside thing, he spoke of\nall his wanderings up and down Hind; till Kim, who had loved him\nwithout reason, now loved him for fifty good reasons. So they enjoyed\nthemselves in high felicity, ab","the bazars which were in bounds.\nHe styled all natives 'niggers'; yet servants and sweepers called him\nabominable names to his face, and, misled by their deferential\nattitude, he never understood. This somewhat consoled Kim for the\nbeatings.\n\nOn the morning of the fourth day a judgement overtook that drummer.\nThey had gone out together towards Umballa racecourse. He returned\nalone, weeping, with news that young O'Hara, to whom he had been doing\nnothing in particular, had","he said, and sat with the reins\nround his wrist. The lama's voice faltered, the periods lengthened.\nKim was busy watching a grey squirrel. When the little scolding bunch\nof fur, close pressed to the branch, disappeared, preacher and audience\nwere fast asleep, the old officer's strong-cut head pillowed on his\narm, the lama's thrown back against the tree-bole, where it showed like\nyellow ivory. A naked child toddled up, stared, and, moved by some\nquick"],["though he spoke the\nvernacular by preference, and his mother-tongue in a clipped uncertain\nsing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the\nsmall boys of the bazar; Kim was white--a poor white of the very\npoorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him (she smoked opium,\nand pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the square where\nthe cheap cabs wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother's\nsister; but his mother had been nursemaid in","; I am\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\n\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If","street boy, and Kim stored it in a\nsecret place under some baulks in Nila Ram's timber-yard, beyond the\nPunjab High Court, where the fragrant deodar logs lie seasoning after\nthey have driven down the Ravi. When there was business or frolic\nafoot, Kim would use his properties, returning at dawn to the veranda,\nall tired out from shouting at the heels of a marriage procession, or\nyelling at a Hindu festival. Sometimes there was food in the house,\nmore often there was not, and then Kim","a corner. The breezes\nfanned over him, the parrots shrieked at him, the noises of the\npopulated house behind--squabbles, orders, and reproofs--hit on dead\nears.\n\n'I am Kim. I am Kim. And what is Kim?' His soul repeated it again\nand again.\n\nHe did not want to cry--had never felt less like crying in his\nlife--but of a sudden easy, stupid tears trickled down his nose, and\nwith an almost audible click he felt the wheels of","road, hailed a\npassing cart and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the\nbrass betel-box in his hands.\n\nThe record of a boy's education interests few save his parents, and, as\nyou know, Kim was an orphan. It is written in the books of St Xavier's\nin Partibus that a report of Kim's progress was forwarded at the end of\neach term to Colonel Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose hands\nduly came the money for his schooling. ",". So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\nemployment.\n\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No","mother, that he was the prop of the lama's declining\nyears, and that the lama would die without his care. All the carriage\nbade the guard be merciful--the banker was specially eloquent here--but\nthe guard hauled Kim on to the platform. The lama blinked--he could\nnot overtake the situation and Kim lifted up his voice and wept outside\nthe carriage window.\n\n'I am very poor. My father is dead--my mother is dead. O charitable\nones, if I am left here, who","It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\n\n'Protector of the Poor!'\n\nThe man backed towards the voice.\n\n'Mahb","later. Mahbub had\ngone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim\nmet him on the Kalka road at dusk riding alone, begged an alms of him,\nwas sworn at, and replied in English. There was nobody within earshot\nto hear Mahbub's gasp of amazement.\n\n'Oho! And where hast thou been?'\n\n'Up and down--down and up.'\n\n'Come under a tree, out of the wet, and tell.'\n\n'I stayed for","and died as poor whites die in India. His estate\nat death consisted of three papers--one he called his 'ne varietur'\nbecause those words were written below his signature thereon, and\nanother his 'clearance-certificate'. The third was Kim's\nbirth-certificate. Those things, he was used to say, in his glorious\nopium-hours, would yet make little Kimball a man. On no account was\nKim to part with them, for they belonged to a great piece of\nmagic--such magic as men pract",". Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached\nthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white\nmen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim\ndid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful\nwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was\nhand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al\nRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian\nNights","as he had\nreached the broad road under Simla Town Hall, he cast about for one to\nimpress. A Hindu child, some ten years old, squatted under a lamp-post.\n\n'Where is Mr Lurgan's house?' demanded Kim.\n\n'I do not understand English,' was the answer, and Kim shifted his\nspeech accordingly.\n\n'I will show.'\n\nTogether they set off through the mysterious dusk, full of the noises\nof a city below the hillside, and the breath of a cool wind in\ndeodar"," Alas! It is a great and terrible\nworld.'\n\nKim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried his\nown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck.\nMahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his\nEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,\nmade him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the","I'm fairly at my wits' end.'\n\n'He says he will give me three hundred rupees a year? So he will give\nme them.'\n\n'Oh, that's the way you look at it, is it?'\n\n'Of course. If he says so!'\n\nThe priest whistled; then he addressed Kim as an equal. 'I don't\nbelieve it; but we'll see. You were goin' off today to the Military\nOrphanage at Sanawar, where the Regiment would keep you till you were","\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\n\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\n\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\ntale of the thief and the search?'\n\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l","and sat\ndown on a patch of ruddy leopard's skin as Kim rose at the call for the\nBenares train.\n\n'Go in hope, little brother,' he said. 'It is a long road to the feet\nof the One; but thither do we all travel.'\n\nKim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he had sat out twenty\nmiles in the crowded compartment, was cheering his neighbours with a\nstring of most wonderful yarns about his own and his master's magical\ngifts.\n\nBena","he\nwill die.'\n\n'By what I saw of him he's as well able to take care of himself as you.\nNo. Ye've brought us luck, an' we're goin' to make a man of you. I'll\ntake ye back to your baggage-cart and ye'll come to me this evening.'\n\nFor the rest of the day Kim found himself an object of distinguished\nconsideration among a few hundred white men. The story of his\nappearance in camp, the discovery of his parentage, and his prophecy,","and Kim lay out behind the\nlittle knot of Mahbub's followers, almost under the wheels of a\nhorse-truck, a borrowed blanket for covering. Now a bed among\nbrickbats and ballast-refuse on a damp night, between overcrowded\nhorses and unwashed Baltis, would not appeal to many white boys; but\nKim was utterly happy. Change of scene, service, and surroundings were\nthe breath of his little nostrils, and thinking of the neat white cots\nof St Xavier's all a","up and asked if Kim would accept his\nhospitality for the night. The priest recommended him to do so, but\ninsisted that the honour of entertaining the lama belonged to the\ntemple--at which the lama smiled guilelessly. Kim glanced from one\nface to the other, and drew his own conclusions.\n\n'Where is the money?' he whispered, beckoning the old man off into the\ndarkness.\n\n'In my bosom. Where else?'\n\n'Give it me. Quietly and swiftly give it me.'\n","revealed in a breath, but at evening\nencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of,\nthe doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee\ncows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes across\nthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks\napart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, as\nbudding physician, must accompany him.\n\n'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not"],["Then Mahbub Ali rolled across the serai to the Gate of the Harpies who\npaint their eyes and trap the stranger, and was at some pains to call\non the one girl who, he had reason to believe, was a particular friend\nof a smooth-faced Kashmiri pundit who had waylaid his simple Balti in\nthe matter of the telegrams. It was an utterly foolish thing to do;\nbecause they fell to drinking perfumed brandy against the Law of the\nProphet, and Mahbub grew wonderfully drunk, and the gates of"," Mahbub gave the money.\n\n'Rememberest thou the little business of the thieves in the dark, down\nyonder at Umballa?'\n\n'Seeing they sought my life, I have not altogether forgotten. Why?'\n\n'Rememberest thou the Kashmir Serai?'\n\n'I will twist thy ears in a moment--Sahib.'\n\n'No need--Pathan. Only, the second fakir, whom the Sahibs beat\nsenseless, was the man who came to search thy bulkhead at Lah","'What talk is this of us, Sahib?' Mahbub Ali returned, in the tone he\nused towards Europeans. 'I am a Pathan; thou art a Sahib and the son\nof a Sahib. Lurgan Sahib has a shop among the European shops. All\nSimla knows it. Ask there ... and, Friend of all the World, he is one\nto be obeyed to the last wink of his eyelashes. Men say he does magic,\nbut that should not touch thee. Go up the hill","remembered the conversation in the train, and\noften in the past few months had caught himself thinking of the queer,\nsilent, self-possessed boy. His evasion, of course, was the height of\ninsolence, but it argued some resource and nerve.\n\nMahbub's eyes twinkled as he reined out into the centre of the cramped\nlittle plain, where none could come near unseen.\n\n'\"The Friend of the Stars, who is the Friend of all the World--\"'\n\n'What is this?'\n\n'A name","Mahbub's palm on his heart.\n\n'Hi! Mahbub, you old villain, pull up!' cried a voice, and an\nEnglishman raced alongside on a little polo-pony. 'I've been chasing\nyou half over the country. That Kabuli of yours can go. For sale, I\nsuppose?'\n\n'I have some young stuff coming on made by Heaven for the delicate and\ndifficult polo-game. He has no equal. He--'\n\n'Plays polo and wait","have outmanoeuvred an\nenemy, but as Mahbub Ali cleared his throat, tightened his belt, and\nstaggered forth under the early morning stars, he came very near to it.\n\n'What a colt's trick!' said he to himself. 'As if every girl in\nPeshawur did not use it! But 'twas prettily done. Now God He knows\nhow many more there be upon the Road who have orders to test\nme--perhaps with the knife. So it stands that the boy must go to\n","from\nher lap. 'I earn my money. Farrukh Shah is a bear, Ali Beg a\nswashbuckler, and old Sikandar Khan--yaie! Go! I sleep now. This\nswine will not stir till dawn.'\n\nWhen Mahbub woke, the Flower talked to him severely on the sin of\ndrunkenness. Asiatics do not wink when they have outmanoeuvred an\nenemy, but as Mahbub Ali cleared his throat, tightened his belt, and\nstaggered forth","full search into his saddlebags and between the soles of his\nslippers. Is that news to tell to the Colonel, or would he say to\nme--(I have not forgotten when he sent me back for a cigar-case that he\nhad not left behind him)--\"What is Mahbub Ali to me?\"?'\n\nUp went a gout of heavy smoke. There was a long pause: then Mahbub\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahib"," But as regards Lutuf Ullah--a tall man\nwith a broken nose, and a Persian greyhound Aie!'\n\nThe boy had hurried off to wake up a young and enthusiastic policeman;\nfor, as he said, the Railway had suffered much from depredations in the\ngoods-yard. Mahbub Ali chuckled in his dyed beard.\n\n'They will walk in their boots, making a noise, and then they will\nwonder why there are no fakirs. They are very clever boys--Barton\nSahib"," They send me to a school and beat me.\nI do not like the air and water here. Come then and help me, Mahbub\nAli, or send me some money, for I have not sufficient to pay the writer\nwho writes this.'\n\n'\"Who writes this.\" It is my own fault that I was tricked. Thou art\nas clever as Husain Bux that forged the Treasury stamps at Nucklao.\nBut what a tale! What a tale! Is it true by any chance?'\n\n'It does not profit to tell lies",",\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\n\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\nevery time he","as the people do whom he watches, he may be slain. Why\nhinder him now? Remember how the Persians say: The jackal that lives\nin the wilds of Mazanderan can only be caught by the hounds of\nMazanderan.'\n\n'True. It is true, Mahbub Ali. And if he comes to no harm, I do not\ndesire anything better. But it is great insolence on his part.'\n\n'He does not tell me, even, whither he goes,' said Mahbub. 'He","Friend of all the World,' said Mahbub, pushing over the pipe for the\nboy to clean, 'I have met many men, women, and boys, and not a few\nSahibs. I have never in all my days met such an imp as thou art.'\n\n'And why? When I always tell thee the truth.'\n\n'Perhaps the very reason, for this is a world of danger to honest men.'\nMahbub Ali hauled himself off the ground, girt in his belt, and went\nover to the horses.\n\n'Or sell","Mahbub Ali's sake. Meantime, there was the present, and not at\nall unpleasant, fact of St Xavier's immediately before him. There\nwould be new boys to condescend to, and there would be tales of holiday\nadventures to hear. Young Martin, son of the tea-planter at Manipur,\nhad boasted that he would go to war, with a rifle, against the\nhead-hunters.\n\nThat might be, but it was certain young Martin had not been blown half\nacross the forecourt of","written.'\n\n'Mahbub Ali is in Umballa,' said the writer jauntily. He was, by\nvirtue of his office, a bureau of general misinformation.\n\n'This is not to Mahbub, but to a priest. Take thy pen and write\nquickly. To Teshoo Lama, the Holy One from Bhotiyal seeking for a\nRiver, who is now in the Temple of the Tirthankars at Benares. Take\nmore ink! In three days I am to go down to Nucklao to","Mahbub Ali raised his voice.\n\n'Allah! Art thou the only beggar in the city? Thy mother is dead. Thy\nfather is dead. So is it with all of them. Well, well--'\n\nHe turned as feeling on the floor beside him and tossed a flap of soft,\ngreasy Mussalman bread to the boy. 'Go and lie down among my horseboys\nfor tonight--thou and the lama. Tomorrow I may give thee service.'\n\nKim slunk away, his teeth in","Sahib, always a Sahib. When thou art a man--who knows?--thou wilt be\ngrateful to Mahbub Ali.'\n\n'Take me beyond their sentries where I can change this red. Give me\nmoney and I will go to Benares and be with my lama again. I do not\nwant to be a Sahib, and remember I did deliver that message.'\n\nThe stallion bounded wildly. Mahbub Ali had incautiously driven home\nthe sharp-edged stirrup. (He was"," Besides, the boy wasn't going away. You\ndon't know old Mahbub Ali.' The horse-dealer sat impassive in the\nsunlight. 'You will when you have been in the station a month. He\nsells us all our crocks. That boy is rather a curiosity. Can you tell\nme anything about him?'\n\n'Can I tell you?' puffed Father Victor. 'You'll be the one man that\ncould help me in my quandaries. Tell you! Powers o' Darkness,","and turned\npolitely to Father Victor.\n\n'What are the letters that the fat priest is waving before the Colonel?\nStand behind the stallion as though looking at my bridle!' said Mahbub\nAli.\n\n'A letter from my lama which he wrote from Jagadhir Road, saying that\nhe will pay three hundred rupees by the year for my schooling.'\n\n'Oho! Is old Red Hat of that sort? At which school?'\n\n'God knows. I think in Nucklao.'\n\n'Yes. There","in his\nbosom.\n\n'That soldier is a small fish,' Mahbub Ali explained, 'but in time we\nshall catch the larger one. He only sells oxen at two prices--one for\nhimself and one for the Government--which I do not think is a sin.'\n\n'Why could not I take away the little book and be done with it?'\n\n'Then he would have been frightened, and he would have told his master.\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\ntheir way up from Quetta to"],["it is time to go again to Nucklao.'\n\n'I had sooner lodge with thee, Mahbub.'\n\n'Thou dost not know the honour. Lurgan Sahib himself asked for thee.\nThou wilt go up the hill and along the road atop, and there thou must\nforget for a while that thou hast ever seen or spoken to me, Mahbub\nAli, who sells horses to Creighton Sahib, whom thou dost not know.\nRemember this order.'\n\nKim nodded. '","said the young officer promptly. 'Everything waits\nwhile a horse is concerned.'\n\n'We shan't be more than twenty minutes,' said Kim's man. 'You can do\nthe honours--keep 'em amused, and all that.'\n\n'Tell one of the troopers to wait,' said the tall man, and they both\npassed into the dressing-room together as the landau rolled away. Kim\nsaw their heads bent over Mahbub Ali's message, and heard the\nvoices--one low and deferential,","\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\n\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\n\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\ntale of the thief and the search?'\n\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l","least. I sent him to deliver a message\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\nstallion.'\n\nHere was deadly insult on deadlier injury--and the Sahib to whom he had\nso craftily given that war-waking letter heard it all. Kim beheld\nMahbub Ali frying in flame for his treachery, but for himself he saw\none long grey vista of barracks, schools, and barracks again. He gazed\nimploringly at the clear-cut face in which there was","othed by the promise.\n\n'Is he not quite mad?' said Kim, coming forward to the light again.\n'Why should I lie to thee, Hajji?'\n\nMahbub puffed his hookah in silence. Then he began, almost whispering:\n'Umballa is on the road to Benares--if indeed ye two go there.'\n\n'Tck! Tck! I tell thee he does not know how to lie--as we two know.'\n\n'And if thou wilt carry a message for me as far as",",\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\n\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\nevery time he","\nMahbub hired a room over against the railway station, sent for a cooked\nmeal of the finest with the almond-curd sweet-meats [balushai we call\nit] and fine-chopped Lucknow tobacco.\n\n'This is better than some other meat that I ate with the Sikh,' said\nKim, grinning as he squatted, 'and assuredly they give no such victuals\nat my madrissah.'\n\n'I have a desire to hear of that same madrissah.' Mahbub stuffed\nhimself with","evening, and\nMahbub would listen without a word or gesture. It was intrigue of some\nkind, Kim knew; but its worth lay in saying nothing whatever to anyone\nexcept Mahbub, who gave him beautiful meals all hot from the cookshop\nat the head of the serai, and once as much as eight annas in money.\n\n'He is here,' said Kim, hitting a bad-tempered camel on the nose. 'Ohe.\nMahbub Ali!' He halted at a dark arch and slipped behind the\nbewildered lama","later. Mahbub had\ngone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim\nmet him on the Kalka road at dusk riding alone, begged an alms of him,\nwas sworn at, and replied in English. There was nobody within earshot\nto hear Mahbub's gasp of amazement.\n\n'Oho! And where hast thou been?'\n\n'Up and down--down and up.'\n\n'Come under a tree, out of the wet, and tell.'\n\n'I stayed for","alows are open through and through--the Englishman\nreturn to a small dressing-room, in a comer of the veranda, that was\nhalf office, littered with papers and despatch-boxes, and sit down to\nstudy Mahbub Ali's message. His face, by the full ray of the kerosene\nlamp, changed and darkened, and Kim, used as every beggar must be to\nwatching countenances, took good note.\n\n'Will! Will, dear!' called a woman's voice. 'You ought to be","\nhere.'\n\n'And this is known to me also,' said Kim, readjusting the live\ncharcoal-ball on the weed. 'It is a very sure tie between us. Indeed,\nthy hold is surer even than mine; for who would miss a boy beaten to\ndeath, or, it may be, thrown into a well by the roadside? Most people\nhere and in Simla and across the passes behind the Hills would, on the\nother hand, say: \"What has come to Mahbub Ali?\" if he were found dead\namong his horses","to Mahbub Ali, Kim would have been almost depressed. The\nindifference of native crowds he was used to; but this strong\nloneliness among white men preyed on him. He was grateful when, in the\ncourse of the afternoon, a big soldier took him over to Father Victor,\nwho lived in another wing across another dusty parade-ground. The\npriest was reading an English letter written in purple ink. He looked\nat Kim more curiously than ever.\n\n'An' how do you like it, my son, as far as you've gone","Christie.\n\n\nIn the afternoon the red-faced schoolmaster told Kim that he had been\n'struck off the strength', which conveyed no meaning to him till he was\nordered to go away and play. Then he ran to the bazar, and found the\nyoung letter-writer to whom he owed a stamp.\n\n'Now I pay,' said Kim royally, 'and now I need another letter to be\nwritten.'\n\n'Mahbub Ali is in Umballa,' said the writer jauntily. He was, by\nvirtue of","Mahbub Ali raised his voice.\n\n'Allah! Art thou the only beggar in the city? Thy mother is dead. Thy\nfather is dead. So is it with all of them. Well, well--'\n\nHe turned as feeling on the floor beside him and tossed a flap of soft,\ngreasy Mussalman bread to the boy. 'Go and lie down among my horseboys\nfor tonight--thou and the lama. Tomorrow I may give thee service.'\n\nKim slunk away, his teeth in",": I have seen them. Give me a\nrupee, Mahbub Ali, and when I come to my wealth I will give thee a bond\nand pay.'\n\n'Um!' said Mahbub Ali, thinking swiftly. 'Thou hast never before lied\nto me. Call that lama--stand back in the dark.'\n\n'Oh, our tales will agree,' said Kim, laughing.\n\n'We go to Benares,' said the lama, as soon as he understood the drift\nof Mahbub Ali's questions. ","Allah on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub heartily, and\nclimbed into his own stall, growling in his beard.\n\nBut it was Kim who had wakened the lama--Kim with one eye laid against\na knot-hole in the planking, who had seen the Delhi man's search\nthrough the boxes. This was no common thief that turned over letters,\nbills, and saddles--no mere burglar who ran a little knife sideways\ninto the soles of Mahbub's slippers","to come to hand. However, God\nwas great, and Mahbub Ali felt he had done all he could for the time\nbeing. Kim was the one soul in the world who had never told him a lie.\nThat would have been a fatal blot on Kim's character if Mahbub had not\nknown that to others, for his own ends or Mahbub's business, Kim could\nlie like an Oriental.\n\nThen Mahbub Ali rolled across the serai to the Gate of the Harpies who\npaint their eyes and trap the stranger, and was at","\nMahbub Ali hauled himself off the ground, girt in his belt, and went\nover to the horses.\n\n'Or sell it?'\n\nThere was that in the tone that made Mahbub halt and turn. 'What new\ndevilry?'\n\n'Eight annas, and I will tell,' said Kim, grinning. 'It touches thy\npeace.'\n\n'O Shaitan!' Mahbub gave the money.\n\n'Rememberest thou the little business of the thieves in the dark, down\nyonder at","me to captivity.'\n\n'Small wonder the Padre does not know how to unravel the thread. How\nfast he talks to the Colonel Sahib!' Mahbub Ali chuckled. 'By Allah!'\nthe keen eyes swept the veranda for an Instant--'thy lama has sent what\nto me looks like a note of hand. I have had some few dealings in\nhoondis. The Colonel Sahib is looking at it.'\n\n'What good is all this to me?' said Kim wearily. 'Thou wilt","Sahibs! Or maybe Mahbub has been selling other news. Now what is to\ndo, Kim? I know not where Mahbub houses, and if he comes here before\nthe dawn they will shoot him. That would be no profit for thee, Kim.\nAnd this is not a matter for the police. That would be no profit for\nMahbub; and'--he giggled almost aloud--'I do not remember any lesson at\nNucklao which will help me. Allah! Here is Kim and yonder are"],["odge and in part by subscription, to a place called\nSanawar.\n\n'It's miraculous past all whooping, Colonel,' said Father Victor, when\nhe had talked without a break for ten minutes. 'His Buddhist friend\nhas levanted after taking my name and address. I can't quite make out\nwhether he'll pay for the boy's education or whether he is preparing\nsome sort of witchcraft on his own account.' Then to Kim: 'You'll live\nto be grateful to your friend the Red Bull yet. We'll","road, hailed a\npassing cart and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the\nbrass betel-box in his hands.\n\nThe record of a boy's education interests few save his parents, and, as\nyou know, Kim was an orphan. It is written in the books of St Xavier's\nin Partibus that a report of Kim's progress was forwarded at the end of\neach term to Colonel Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose hands\nduly came the money for his schooling. ","better learning is given?' The lama\ndisregarded Kim's plans for an early flight. 'It is no wrong to pay\nfor learning. To help the ignorant to wisdom is always a merit.' The\nrosary clicked furiously as an abacus. Then he faced his oppressors.\n\n'Ask them for how much money do they give a wise and suitable teaching?\nAnd in what city is that teaching given?'\n\n'Well,' said Father Victor in English, when Kim had translated, 'that\ndepends. The Regiment would pay for you","\nwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away this\nnight, for all I wanted to see the new things.'\n\nKim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating\nthe replies to the lama.\n\nThen: 'He says, \"You take him from me and you cannot say what you will\nmake him.\" He says, \"Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing\nto make a child.\"'\n\n'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see","\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\n\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\n\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher","impatience, and\nsuggested calling a sentry to evict the fakir.\n\n'Do they give or sell learning among the Sahibs? Ask them,' said the\nlama, and Kim interpreted.\n\n'They say that money is paid to the teacher--but that money the\nRegiment will give ... What need? It is only for a night.'\n\n'And--the more money is paid the better learning is given?' The lama\ndisregarded Kim's plans for an early flight. 'It is no wrong to pay\nfor","of\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\n\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\nimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would go\nnorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor\nwould arrange for him.\n\n'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thought\nmore.\n\n'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\nkeep you out of mischief. You","It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\n\n'Protector of the Poor!'\n\nThe man backed towards the voice.\n\n'Mahb","Christie.\n\n\nIn the afternoon the red-faced schoolmaster told Kim that he had been\n'struck off the strength', which conveyed no meaning to him till he was\nordered to go away and play. Then he ran to the bazar, and found the\nyoung letter-writer to whom he owed a stamp.\n\n'Now I pay,' said Kim royally, 'and now I need another letter to be\nwritten.'\n\n'Mahbub Ali is in Umballa,' said the writer jauntily. He was, by\nvirtue of","\nthe Colonel Sahib a great expense.'\n\nMahbub's lips twitched under his well-pruned Mohammedan moustache.\n\n'What are a few rupees'--the Pathan threw out his open hand\ncarelessly--'to the Colonel Sahib? He spends them for a purpose, not\nin any way for love of thee.'\n\n'That,' said Kim slowly, 'I knew a very long time ago.'\n\n'Who told?'\n\n'The Colonel Sahib himself. Not in those many words,","letters, it\nis all right.'\n\n'You're fond of him then?'\n\n'Of course I am fond of him. He was fond of me.'\n\n'It seems so by the look of this. He can't write English, can he?'\n\n'Oah no. Not that I know, but of course he found a letter-writer who\ncan write English verree well, and so he wrote. I do hope you\nunderstand.'\n\n'That accounts for it. D'you know anything about his money affairs?'\nKim'"," Meantime, if the Sahibs were to be\nimpressed, he would do his best to impress them. He too was a white\nman.\n\nAfter much talk that he could not comprehend, they handed him over to a\nsergeant, who had strict instructions not to let him escape. The\nRegiment would go on to Umballa, and Kim would be sent up, partly at\nthe expense of the Lodge and in part by subscription, to a place called\nSanawar.\n\n'It's miraculous past all whooping, Colonel,'","yes, he's the\nman I mean--can a street-beggar raise money to educate white boys?'\n\nThree miles off, on Umballa racecourse, Mahbub Ali, reining a grey\nKabuli stallion with Kim in front of him, was saying:\n\n'But, Little Friend of all the World, there is my honour and reputation\nto be considered. All the officer-Sahibs in all the regiments, and all\nUmballa, know Mahbub Ali. Men saw me pick thee up and chastise","though he spoke the\nvernacular by preference, and his mother-tongue in a clipped uncertain\nsing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the\nsmall boys of the bazar; Kim was white--a poor white of the very\npoorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him (she smoked opium,\nand pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the square where\nthe cheap cabs wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother's\nsister; but his mother had been nursemaid in","teaching given?'\n\n'Well,' said Father Victor in English, when Kim had translated, 'that\ndepends. The Regiment would pay for you all the time you are at the\nMilitary Orphanage; or you might go on the Punjab Masonic Orphanage's\nlist (not that he or you 'ud understand what that means); but the best\nschooling a boy can get in India is, of course, at St Xavier's in\nPartibus at Lucknow.' This took some time to interpret, for Bennett\nwished to cut it short.\n","him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet and\nswaddle him in these clothes. Then he will forget all he knows. Now,\nwhich of the barracks is thine?'\n\nKim pointed--he could not speak--to Father Victor's wing, all staring\nwhite near by.\n\n'Perhaps he will make a good soldier,' said Mahbub reflectively.\n\n'He will make a good orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a message\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\nstallion","boy to empty, lime-washed barracks, whose floors\nwere covered with rubbish and string and paper, and whose ceilings gave\nback his lonely footfall. Native-fashion, he curled himself up on a\nstripped cot and went to sleep. An angry man stumped down the veranda,\nwoke him up, and said he was a schoolmaster. This was enough for Kim,\nand he retired into his shell. He could just puzzle out the various\nEnglish Police notices in Lahore city, because they affected his\ncomfort; and"," Alas! It is a great and terrible\nworld.'\n\nKim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried his\nown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck.\nMahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his\nEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,\nmade him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the","craft on his own account.' Then to Kim: 'You'll live\nto be grateful to your friend the Red Bull yet. We'll make a man of\nyou at Sanawar--even at the price o' making you a Protestant.'\n\n'Certainly--most certainly,' said Bennett.\n\n'But you will not go to Sanawar,' said Kim.\n\n'But we will go to Sanawar, little man. That's the order of the\nCommander-in-Chief, who's a trifle more important than O'",".'\n\n'There is nothing,' said Kim, and scratched it. He was wondering\nwhether Mahbub Ali would send him as much as a whole rupee. Then he\ncould pay the letter-writer and write letters to the lama at Benares.\nPerhaps Mahbub Ali would visit him next time he came south with horses.\nSurely he must know that Kim's delivery of the letter to the officer at\nUmballa had caused the great war which the men and boys had discussed\nso loudly over the barrack dinner-tables. But if Mah"],["; I am\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\n\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If","allowance only. Twenty rupees a month.'\n\nOne advantage of the Secret Service is that it has no worrying audit.\nThat Service is ludicrously starved, of course, but the funds are\nadministered by a few men who do not call for vouchers or present\nitemized accounts. Mahbub's eyes lighted with almost a Sikh's love of\nmoney. Even Lurgan's impassive face changed. He considered the years\nto come when Kim would have been entered and made to the Great Game\nthat never","It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\n\n'Protector of the Poor!'\n\nThe man backed towards the voice.\n\n'Mahb",". So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\nemployment.\n\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No","\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\n\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\n\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\ntale of the thief and the search?'\n\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l","would have told his master.\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\ntheir way up from Quetta to the North. The Game is so large that one\nsees but a little at a time.'\n\n'Oho!' said Kim, and held his tongue. That was in the monsoon\nholidays, after he had taken the prize for mathematics. The Christmas\nholidays he spent--deducting ten days for private amusements--with\nLurgan Sahib, where he sat for the most part in front","?' The Englishman switched at the rose-hedge in\nthe side of the drive.\n\n'Mahbub Ali has given me this proof.' Kim flipped the wad of folded\npaper into the air, and it fell in the path beside the man, who put his\nfoot on it as a gardener came round the corner. When the servant passed\nhe picked it up, dropped a rupee--Kim could hear the clink--and strode\ninto the house, never turning round. Swiftly Kim took up the money;\nbut for all his training,","gan's impassive face changed. He considered the years\nto come when Kim would have been entered and made to the Great Game\nthat never ceases day and night, throughout India. He foresaw honour\nand credit in the mouths of a chosen few, coming to him from his pupil.\nLurgan Sahib had made E.23 what E.23 was, out of a bewildered,\nimpertinent, lying, little North-West Province man.\n\nBut the joy of these masters was pale and smoky beside the joy of Kim\n","and the big burly Afghan,\nhis beard dyed scarlet with lime (for he was elderly and did not wish\nhis grey hairs to show), knew the boy's value as a gossip. Sometimes\nhe would tell Kim to watch a man who had nothing whatever to do with\nhorses: to follow him for one whole day and report every soul with\nwhom he talked. Kim would deliver himself of his tale at evening, and\nMahbub would listen without a word or gesture. It was intrigue of some\nkind, Kim knew; but its worth",". Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached\nthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white\nmen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim\ndid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful\nwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was\nhand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al\nRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian\nNights",",\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\n\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\nevery time he","? I am only a boy. Wait till I am a man.' Then,\nseeing the Colonel's brow clouded, he went on: 'But I think I should\nin a few days earn the hundred rupees.'\n\n'By what road?'\n\nKim shook his head resolutely. 'If I said how I would earn them,\nanother man might hear and forestall me. It is not good to sell\nknowledge for nothing.'\n\n'Tell now.' The Colonel held up a rupee. Kim's hand half reached","The woman sighed aloud, and Kim relented.\n\n'There is no payment till service has been rendered. Carry this to the\nBabu, and say it was sent by the Son of the Charm.'\n\n'Ai! Truly! Truly! By a magician--who is like a Sahib.'\n\n'Nay, a Son of the Charm: and ask if there be any answer.'\n\n'But if he offer a rudeness? I--I am afraid.'\n\nKim laughed. 'He is,","revealed in a breath, but at evening\nencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of,\nthe doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee\ncows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes across\nthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks\napart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, as\nbudding physician, must accompany him.\n\n'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not","and sat\ndown on a patch of ruddy leopard's skin as Kim rose at the call for the\nBenares train.\n\n'Go in hope, little brother,' he said. 'It is a long road to the feet\nof the One; but thither do we all travel.'\n\nKim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he had sat out twenty\nmiles in the crowded compartment, was cheering his neighbours with a\nstring of most wonderful yarns about his own and his master's magical\ngifts.\n\nBena","struck Kim--he\nwould teach the boy to write in return for food. Kim had been kicked\nas far as single letters, but did not think well of them.\n\n'I do not know anything. Go away!' said Kim, scenting evil. Hereupon\nthe man caught him by the ear, dragged him to a room in a far-off wing\nwhere a dozen drummer-boys were sitting on forms, and told him to be\nstill if he could do nothing else. This he managed very successfully.\nThe man explained something or other with white lines on a","of my son. Thou art a miracle-worker--I know it.'\n\n'Show me the cuts.' Kim bent over the Mahratta's neck, his heart\nnearly choking him; for this was the Great Game with a vengeance. 'Now,\ntell thy tale swiftly, brother, while I say a charm.'\n\n'I come from the South, where my work lay. One of us they slew by the\nroadside. Hast thou heard?' Kim shook his head. He, of course, knew\nnothing of E","side; and what sort of language\nhe would use to an Englishman, to a Punjabi farmer going to a fair, and\nto a woman without a veil. Lurgan Sahib laughed immensely, and begged\nKim to stay as he was, immobile for half an hour--cross-legged,\nash-smeared, and wild-eyed, in the back room. At the end of that time\nentered a hulking, obese Babu whose stockinged legs shook with fat, and\nKim opened on him with a shower of","later. Mahbub had\ngone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim\nmet him on the Kalka road at dusk riding alone, begged an alms of him,\nwas sworn at, and replied in English. There was nobody within earshot\nto hear Mahbub's gasp of amazement.\n\n'Oho! And where hast thou been?'\n\n'Up and down--down and up.'\n\n'Come under a tree, out of the wet, and tell.'\n\n'I stayed for","a pensioner at Chunar, hinted very broadly that Colonel\nCreighton's interest in Kim was directly paternal; and Kim, instead of\nretaliating, did not even use language. He was thinking of the immense\nfun to come, of Mahbub's letter of the day before, all neatly written\nin English, making appointment for that afternoon in a house the very\nname of which would have crisped the Principal's hair with horror...\n\nSaid Kim to Mahbub in Lucknow railway station that evening, above the\nlug"],["Kim looked up\nsharply, like the Indian crows so busy about the fields.\n\n'Surely, child: from Kulu to Pathankot--from Kulu, where my first\nchela died. When men were kind to us we made offerings, and all men\nwere well-disposed throughout all the Hills.'\n\n'It is otherwise in Hind,' said Kim drily. 'Their Gods are many-armed\nand malignant. Let them alone.'\n\n'I would set thee on thy road for a little, Friend of all the","harebell down the valleys and round the\nmountain sides, and in due time the lama and Kim, who steered by\ncompass, would overhaul it, vending ointments and powders at eventide.\n'We came by such and such a way!' The lama would throw a careless\nfinger backward at the ridges, and the umbrella would expend itself in\ncompliments.\n\nThey crossed a snowy pass in cold moonlight, when the lama, mildly\nchaffing Kim, went through up to his knees, like","day they struck deeper into the huddled mountains, and day\nafter day Kim watched the lama return to a man's strength. Among the\nterraces of the Doon he had leaned on the boy's shoulder, ready to\nprofit by wayside halts. Under the great ramp to Mussoorie he drew\nhimself together as an old hunter faces a well-remembered bank, and\nwhere he should have sunk exhausted swung his long draperies about him,\ndrew a deep double-lungful of the diamond air, and walked as only a\nhillman","as Kedarnath and Badrinath--kings of that wilderness--took the\nfirst sunlight. All day long they lay like molten silver under the\nsun, and at evening put on their jewels again. At first they breathed\ntemperately upon the travellers, winds good to meet when one crawled\nover some gigantic hog's-back; but in a few days, at a height of nine\nor ten thousand feet, those breezes bit; and Kim kindly allowed a\nvillage of hillmen to acquire merit by giving him a rough","! the Hills, and the snows upon the Hills.' The lami tore off a\ntiny square of paper fit to go in an amulet. 'But what dost thou know\nof the Hills?'\n\n'They are very close.' Kim thrust open the door and looked at the\nlong, peaceful line of the Himalayas flushed in morning-gold. 'Except\nin the dress of a Sahib, I have never set foot among them.'\n\nThe lama snuffed the wind wistfully.\n\n'If we go North,'--K","and sat\ndown on a patch of ruddy leopard's skin as Kim rose at the call for the\nBenares train.\n\n'Go in hope, little brother,' he said. 'It is a long road to the feet\nof the One; but thither do we all travel.'\n\nKim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he had sat out twenty\nmiles in the crowded compartment, was cheering his neighbours with a\nstring of most wonderful yarns about his own and his master's magical\ngifts.\n\nBena","Bushahr and Chini valley. That is ascertained by process\nof elimination, and also by asking questions from people that I cure so\nwell. Our friends have been a long time playing about and producing\nimpressions. So they are well known from far off. You will see me\ncatch them somewhere in Chini valley. Please keep your eye on the\numbrella.'\n\nIt nodded like a wind-blown harebell down the valleys and round the\nmountain sides, and in due time the lama and Kim, who steered by\ncompass","-class with the lama.\n'Sahibs get little pleasure of travel,' he reflected.\n\n'Hai mai! I go from one place to another as it might be a kickball. It\nis my Kismet. No man can escape his Kismet. But I am to pray to Bibi\nMiriam, and I am a Sahib.' He looked at his boots ruefully. 'No; I am\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\nconsidered his","'Now let us walk,' muttered the lama, and to the click of his rosary\nthey walked in silence mile upon mile. The lama as usual, was deep in\nmeditation, but Kim's bright eyes were open wide. This broad, smiling\nriver of life, he considered, was a vast improvement on the cramped and\ncrowded Lahore streets. There were new people and new sights at every\nstride--castes he knew and castes that were altogether out of his\nexperience.\n\nThey met a troop of long-haired,","as he had\nreached the broad road under Simla Town Hall, he cast about for one to\nimpress. A Hindu child, some ten years old, squatted under a lamp-post.\n\n'Where is Mr Lurgan's house?' demanded Kim.\n\n'I do not understand English,' was the answer, and Kim shifted his\nspeech accordingly.\n\n'I will show.'\n\nTogether they set off through the mysterious dusk, full of the noises\nof a city below the hillside, and the breath of a cool wind in\ndeodar","\nclicking his rosary.\n\nThey followed the rutted and worn country road that wound across the\nflat between the great dark-green mango-groves, the line of the\nsnowcapped Himalayas faint to the eastward. All India was at work in\nthe fields, to the creaking of well-wheels, the shouting of ploughmen\nbehind their cattle, and the clamour of the crows. Even the pony felt\nthe good influence and almost broke into a trot as Kim laid a hand on\nthe stirrup","Chini.\nThat is the only way they can come. I do not like waiting in the cold,\nbut we must wait for them. I want to walk with them to Simla. You see,\none Russian is a Frenchman, and I know my French pretty well. I have\nfriends in Chandernagore.'\n\n'He would certainly rejoice to see the Hills again,' said Kim\nmeditatively. 'All his speech these ten days past has been of little\nelse. If we go together--'\n\n'Oah! We can be quite","; I am\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\n\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If","ans hurrying down tiny sheep,\neach laden with a bag of borax. They came out upon grassy shoulders\nstill snow-speckled, and through forest, to grass anew. For all their\nmarchings, Kedarnath and Badrinath were not impressed; and it was only\nafter days of travel that Kim, uplifted upon some insignificant\nten-thousand-foot hummock, could see that a shoulder-knot or horn of\nthe two great lords had--ever so slightly--changed outline.\n\nAt last","\nhis honoured employers. Crouched against a tree-trunk, he sniffed\ndolefully.\n\n'And have you thought,' said the uninjured man hotly, 'what sort of\nspectacle we shall present wandering through these hills among these\naborigines?'\n\nHurree Babu had thought of little else for some hours, but the remark\nwas not to his address.\n\n'We cannot wander! I can hardly walk,' groaned Kim's victim.\n\n'Perhaps the holy man will be merciful in loving-kind","oli and swing out of sight between the scrub\nclumps.\n\nThe lama raises a hand toward the rampart of the Himalayas. 'Not with\nyou, O blessed among all hills, fell the Arrow of Our Lord! And never\nshall I breathe your airs again!'\n\n'But thou art ten times the stronger man in this good air,' says Kim,\nfor to his wearied soul appeal the well-cropped, kindly Plains. 'Here,\nor hereabouts, fell the Arrow, yes. We will go very softly, perhaps,","or ten thousand feet, those breezes bit; and Kim kindly allowed a\nvillage of hillmen to acquire merit by giving him a rough blanket-coat.\nThe lama was mildly surprised that anyone should object to the\nknife-edged breezes which had cut the years off his shoulders.\n\n'These are but the lower hills, chela. There is no cold till we come\nto the true Hills.'\n\n'Air and water are good, and the people are devout enough, but the food\nis very bad,' Kim growled; 'and we walk","revealed in a breath, but at evening\nencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of,\nthe doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee\ncows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes across\nthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks\napart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, as\nbudding physician, must accompany him.\n\n'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not","a little wayfaring, they\nslept; meeting the world refreshed when the air was cooler. Night\nfound them adventuring into new territory--some chosen village spied\nthree hours before across the fat land, and much discussed upon the\nroad.\n\nThere they told their tale--a new one each evening so far as Kim was\nconcerned--and there were they made welcome, either by priest or\nheadman, after the custom of the kindly East.\n\nWhen the shadows shortened and the lama leaned more heavily upon Kim,\nthere was always the Wheel","were opened to this world;\nthere I found Enlightenment; and there I girt my loins for my Search.\nOut of the Hills I came--the high Hills and the strong winds. Oh, just\nis the Wheel!' He blessed them in detail--the great glaciers, the\nnaked rocks, the piled moraines and tumbled shale; dry upland, hidden\nsalt-lake, age-old timber and fruitful water-shot valley one after the\nother, as a dying man blesses his folk; and Kim marvelled"],["Chini.\nThat is the only way they can come. I do not like waiting in the cold,\nbut we must wait for them. I want to walk with them to Simla. You see,\none Russian is a Frenchman, and I know my French pretty well. I have\nfriends in Chandernagore.'\n\n'He would certainly rejoice to see the Hills again,' said Kim\nmeditatively. 'All his speech these ten days past has been of little\nelse. If we go together--'\n\n'Oah! We can be quite","? I am only a boy. Wait till I am a man.' Then,\nseeing the Colonel's brow clouded, he went on: 'But I think I should\nin a few days earn the hundred rupees.'\n\n'By what road?'\n\nKim shook his head resolutely. 'If I said how I would earn them,\nanother man might hear and forestall me. It is not good to sell\nknowledge for nothing.'\n\n'Tell now.' The Colonel held up a rupee. Kim's hand half reached","Rajah. There is also the Babu with\nthem. Clerks have long tongues.'\n\n'Is that all thy trouble?' The plan rose fully formed in Kim's mind,\nand he smiled ravishingly.\n\n'Not all,' quoth the woman, putting out a hard brown hand all covered\nwith turquoises set in silver.\n\n'I can finish that in a breath,' he went on quickly. 'The Babu is the\nvery hakim (thou hast heard of him?) who was wandering among the hills\nby Z","would have told his master.\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\ntheir way up from Quetta to the North. The Game is so large that one\nsees but a little at a time.'\n\n'Oho!' said Kim, and held his tongue. That was in the monsoon\nholidays, after he had taken the prize for mathematics. The Christmas\nholidays he spent--deducting ten days for private amusements--with\nLurgan Sahib, where he sat for the most part in front","went--look,\nthe door is open!--as far as a certain house with a red-painted\nveranda, behind that which was the old theatre in the Lower Bazar, and\nwhispered through the shutters: \"Hurree Chunder Mookerjee bore the bad\nnews of last month\", that boy might take away a belt full of rupees.'\n\n'How many?' said Kim promptly.\n\n'Five hundred--a thousand--as many as he might ask for.'\n\n'Good. And for how long might such a boy","I don't think we need keep the ladies waiting any longer. We can\nsettle the rest over the cigars. I thought it was coming. It's\npunishment--not war.'\n\nAs the trooper cantered off, Kim crawled round to the back of the\nhouse, where, going on his Lahore experiences, he judged there would be\nfood--and information. The kitchen was crowded with excited scullions,\none of whom kicked him.\n\n'Aie,' said Kim, feigning tears. 'I came only to","The woman sighed aloud, and Kim relented.\n\n'There is no payment till service has been rendered. Carry this to the\nBabu, and say it was sent by the Son of the Charm.'\n\n'Ai! Truly! Truly! By a magician--who is like a Sahib.'\n\n'Nay, a Son of the Charm: and ask if there be any answer.'\n\n'But if he offer a rudeness? I--I am afraid.'\n\nKim laughed. 'He is,","only jesting. Give the order. There is more than enough\nfor us all. We go our way from Shamlegh in the dawn.'\n\nThey arranged and re-arranged their artless little plans for another\nhour, while Kim shivered with cold and pride. The humour of the\nsituation tickled the Irish and the Oriental in his soul. Here were\nthe emissaries of the dread Power of the North, very possibly as great\nin their own land as Mahbub or Colonel Creighton, suddenly smitten\nhelpless. One","these things are?'\n\n'Yes.' said Kim. 'They are mine, and I want to go away.'\n\n'I do not quite understand,' said Mr Bennett. 'He probably brought\nthem on purpose. It may be a begging trick of some kind.'\n\n'I never saw a beggar less anxious to stay with his company, then.\nThere's the makings of a gay mystery here. Ye believe in Providence,\nBennett?'\n\n'I hope so.'\n\n'Well, I believe in miracles, so it comes to","It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\n\n'Protector of the Poor!'\n\nThe man backed towards the voice.\n\n'Mahb","s head against a\nboulder.\n\n'Go back to the coolies,' whispered the Babu in his ear. 'They have\nthe baggage. The papers are in the kilta with the red top, but look\nthrough all. Take their papers, and specially the murasla [King's\nletter]. Go! The other man comes!'\n\nKim tore uphill. A revolver-bullet rang on a rock by his side, and he\ncowered partridge-wise.\n\n'If you shoot,' shouted Hurree","; I am\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\n\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If","rientals!\" Oh, you have done well.'\n\nThey fell to it in several tongues, and Hurree smiled. Kim was with\nthe kiltas, and in the kiltas lay eight months of good diplomacy. There\nwas no means of communicating with the boy, but he could be trusted.\nFor the rest, Hurree could so stage-manage the journey through the\nhills that Hilas, Bunar, and four hundred miles of hill-roads should\ntell the tale for a generation. Men who cannot control their own\ncoolies are little","\nfor tonight--thou and the lama. Tomorrow I may give thee service.'\n\nKim slunk away, his teeth in the bread, and, as he expected, he found a\nsmall wad of folded tissue-paper wrapped in oilskin, with three silver\nrupees--enormous largesse. He smiled and thrust money and paper into\nhis leather amulet-case. The lama, sumptuously fed by Mahbub's Baltis,\nwas already asleep in a corner of one of the stalls. Kim lay down\n","plicated by the correspondence. By Gad, sar! The\nBritish Government will change the succession in Hilas and Bunar, and\nnominate new heirs to the throne. \"Trea-son most base\" ... but you do\nnot understand? Eh?'\n\n'Are they in thy hands?' said Kim. It was all he cared for.\n\n'Just you jolly-well bet yourself they are.' He stowed the entire\ntrove about his body, as only Orientals can. 'They are going up to the","ement; and the crowd\nshivered.\n\n'So--so--so. But what does He when He is about to give an order?'\n\n'He rubs the skin at the back of his neck--thus. Then falls one finger\non the table and He makes a small sniffing noise through his nose.\nThen He speaks, saying: \"Loose such and such a regiment. Call out such\nguns.\"'\n\nThe old man rose stiffly and saluted.\n\n'\"For\"'--Kim translated into the vernacular the clin"," Alas! It is a great and terrible\nworld.'\n\nKim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried his\nown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck.\nMahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his\nEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,\nmade him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the",",\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\n\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\nevery time he","\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\n\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\n\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\ntale of the thief and the search?'\n\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l","up and asked if Kim would accept his\nhospitality for the night. The priest recommended him to do so, but\ninsisted that the honour of entertaining the lama belonged to the\ntemple--at which the lama smiled guilelessly. Kim glanced from one\nface to the other, and drew his own conclusions.\n\n'Where is the money?' he whispered, beckoning the old man off into the\ndarkness.\n\n'In my bosom. Where else?'\n\n'Give it me. Quietly and swiftly give it me.'\n"],["Gods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom.'\n\n'That is well said.' The lama was much impressed by the plan. 'We\nwill begin tomorrow, and a blessing on thee for showing old feet such a\nnear road.' A deep, sing-song Chinese half-chant closed the sentence.\nEven the priest was impressed, and the headman feared an evil spell:\nbut none could look at the lama's simple, eager face and doubt him long.\n\n'Seest thou my chela?' he said, diving into"," I only wished to see that\nthe boy had come to no harm and was a free agent. As thou knowest, he\nand I were old friends in the first days of your pilgrimage together.'\n\n'That is a bond between us.' The lama sat down. 'We are at the end of\nthe pilgrimage.'\n\n'No thanks to thee thine was not cut off for good and all a week back.\nI heard what the Sahiba said to thee when we bore thee up on the cot.'\nMahbub laughed, and","Umballa to the very village whose priest had tried to\ndrug him; but the kind Heaven that guards lamas sent him at twilight\nthrough the crops, absorbed and unsuspicious, to the Rissaldar's door.\nHere was like to have been a grave misunderstanding, for the old\nsoldier asked him why the Friend of the Stars had gone that way only\nsix days before.\n\n'That may not be,' said the lama. 'He has gone back to his own people.'\n\n'He sat in that corner telling a hundred merry tales","But this was used for the initiation of a novice. Tell him so, hakim.'\n\n'He wishes it now--for money.'\n\nThe lama shook his head slowly and began to fold up the Wheel. The\nRussian, on his side, saw no more than an unclean old man haggling over\na dirty piece of paper. He drew out a handful of rupees, and snatched\nhalf-jestingly at the chart, which tore in the lama's grip. A low\nmurmur of horror went up from the","Then he attempted\nrunning off to the village where the priest had tried to drug the\nlama--the village where the old soldier lived. But far-seeing sentries\nat every exit headed back the little scarlet figure. Trousers and\njacket crippled body and mind alike so he abandoned the project and\nfell back, Oriental-fashion, on time and chance. Three days of torment\npassed in the big, echoing white rooms. He walked out of afternoons\nunder escort of the drummer-boy, and all he heard from his companions","and not steal. We will\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\nhere to find the Red Bull and all that sort of thing. I do not want\nit.'\n\n'It's the very best day's work you ever did for yourself, young man,'\nsaid Bennett.\n\n'Good heavens, I don't know how to console him,' said Father Victor,\nwatching the lama intently. 'He can't take the boy away with him, and\nyet he's a good man--","due to\nmy forethought. 'He says, Holy One, that he will escape from the\nidolaters, and will return to us. Shall we wait awhile at Shamlegh,\nthen?'\n\nThe lama looked long and lovingly upon the hills and shook his head.\n\n'That may not be, chela. From my bones outward I do desire it, but it\nis forbidden. I have seen the Cause of Things.'\n\n'Why? When the Hills give thee back thy strength day by day? Remember\nwe","'And if you\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\nto interfere.'\n\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\nwatched the lama's face.\n\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by","\nThe lama dragged forth his rosary and pulled his huge hat-brim over his\neyes.\n\n'What can he want now?'\n\n'He says'--Kim put up one hand. 'He says: \"Be quiet.\" He wants to\nspeak to me by himself. You see, you do not know one little word of\nwhat he says, and I think if you talk he will perhaps give you very bad\ncurses. When he takes those beads like that, you see, he always wants\nto be quiet.'\n\nThe two","\n'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more.\nHe says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants to\nbe washed of his sins.'\n\nNeither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready.\n\nSaid Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you\nwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\nhere to find the Red Bull","\nwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away this\nnight, for all I wanted to see the new things.'\n\nKim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating\nthe replies to the lama.\n\nThen: 'He says, \"You take him from me and you cannot say what you will\nmake him.\" He says, \"Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing\nto make a child.\"'\n\n'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see","know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing.\nVillages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, for\nnot only has the lama given them blessings, but his disciple good\nmoney--full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve miles a day has the dooli\ntravelled, as the greasy, rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few\nSahibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dust\nfilled every fold of the imp","day they struck deeper into the huddled mountains, and day\nafter day Kim watched the lama return to a man's strength. Among the\nterraces of the Doon he had leaned on the boy's shoulder, ready to\nprofit by wayside halts. Under the great ramp to Mussoorie he drew\nhimself together as an old hunter faces a well-remembered bank, and\nwhere he should have sunk exhausted swung his long draperies about him,\ndrew a deep double-lungful of the diamond air, and walked as only a\nhillman","watching the lama intently. 'He can't take the boy away with him, and\nyet he's a good man--I'm sure he's a good man. Bennett, if you give him\nthat rupee he'll curse you root and branch!'\n\nThey listened to each other's breathing--three--five full minutes.\nThen the lama raised his head, and looked forth across them into space\nand emptiness.\n\n'And I am a Follower of the Way,' he said bitterly. 'The sin is mine\nand","The shots ceased. There was a sound of stumbling feet, and Kim hurried\nupward through the gloom, swearing like a cat--or a country-bred.\n\n'Did they wound thee, chela?' called the lama above him.\n\n'No. And thou?' He dived into a clump of stunted firs.\n\n'Unhurt. Come away. We go with these folk to Shamlegh-under-the-Snow.'\n\n'But not before we have done justice,' a voice cried. ","from the Road. Then he goes to see the boy at the madrissah, as we\nknow for the boy was punished for it twice or thrice. He is quite mad,\nbut a peaceful man. I have met him. The Babu also has had dealings\nwith him. We have watched him for three years. Red Lamas are not so\ncommon in Hind that one loses track.'\n\n'Babus are very curious,' said Lurgan meditatively. 'Do you know what\nHurree Babu really wants? He","\nThe lama held his peace. Except for the click of the rosary and a\nfaint clop-clop of Mahbub's retreating feet, the soft, smoky silence of\nevening in India wrapped them close.\n\n'Hear me! I bring news.'\n\n'But let us--'\n\nOut shot the long yellow hand compelling silence. Kim tucked his feet\nunder his robe-edge obediently.\n\n'Hear me! I bring news! The Search is finished. Comes now the\nR","drawn.'\n\n'And his to thine, I hear. Hearts are like horses. They come and they\ngo against bit or spur. Shout Gul Sher Khan yonder to drive in that\nbay stallion's pickets more firmly. We do not want a horse-fight at\nevery resting-stage, and the dun and the black will be locked in a\nlittle ... Now hear me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart\nto see that lama?'\n\n'It is one part of my bond,' said Kim",",'\nsaid he.\n\n'It is this person who has suffered wrong,' said the lama, his hand\nover his brow.\n\n'For that very reason,' was the reply.\n\n'If this person overlooks it, your hands are clean. Moreover, ye\nacquire merit by obedience.'\n\n'Wait, and we will all go to Shamlegh together,' the man insisted.\n\nFor a moment, for just so long as it needs to stuff a cartridge into a\nbreech-loader, the lama hesitated. Then he","him in charge of my servants, and\nso on.'\n\n'You're a good man.'\n\n'Not in the least. Don't make that mistake. The lama has sent us\nmoney for a definite end. We can't very well return it. We shall have\nto do as he says. Well, that's settled, isn't it? Shall we say that,\nTuesday next, you'll hand him over to me at the night train south?\nThat's only three days. He can't do"],["Sukkur in the sands to Galle beneath the palms, none was so filled with\nvirtue as Kimball O'Hara, jiggeting down to Umballa behind Hurree\nChunder Mookerjee, whose name on the books of one section of the\nEthnological Survey was R.17.\n\nAnd if additional spur were needed, the Babu supplied it. After a huge\nmeal at Kalka, he spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school?\nThen he, an M A of Calcutta University","revealed in a breath, but at evening\nencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of,\nthe doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee\ncows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes across\nthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks\napart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, as\nbudding physician, must accompany him.\n\n'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not","It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\n\n'Protector of the Poor!'\n\nThe man backed towards the voice.\n\n'Mahb","Ye believe in Providence,\nBennett?'\n\n'I hope so.'\n\n'Well, I believe in miracles, so it comes to the same thing. Powers of\nDarkness! Kimball O'Hara! And his son! But then he's a native, and I\nsaw Kimball married myself to Annie Shott. How long have you had these\nthings, boy?'\n\n'Ever since I was a little baby.'\n\nFather Victor stepped forward quickly and opened the front of Kim's\nupper garment. '","poor O'Hara that was gang-foreman on\nthe Ferozepore line. Then he would weep bitterly in the broken rush\nchair on the veranda. So it came about after his death that the woman\nsewed parchment, paper, and birth-certificate into a leather\namulet-case which she strung round Kim's neck.\n\n'And some day,' she said, confusedly remembering O'Hara's prophecies,\n'there will come for you a great Red Bull on a green field, and the\nCol","'\n\n'I did not thieve,' protested Kim. 'You have hit me kicks all over my\nbody. Now give me my charm and I will go away.'\n\n'Not quite so fast. We'll look first,' said Father Victor, leisurely\nrolling out poor Kimball O'Hara's 'ne varietur' parchment, his\nclearance-certificate, and Kim's baptismal certificate. On this last\nO'Hara--with some confused idea that he was doing wonders for his\nson--had sc","the bazars which were in bounds.\nHe styled all natives 'niggers'; yet servants and sweepers called him\nabominable names to his face, and, misled by their deferential\nattitude, he never understood. This somewhat consoled Kim for the\nbeatings.\n\nOn the morning of the fourth day a judgement overtook that drummer.\nThey had gone out together towards Umballa racecourse. He returned\nalone, weeping, with news that young O'Hara, to whom he had been doing\nnothing in particular, had","the short space of life that\nwould remain to him.\n\n'So I should lose Delhi for the sake of a fish,' was his proverbial\nphilosophy. It behoved him to forget his holidays (there would always\nremain the fun of inventing imaginary adventures) and, as Lurgan Sahib\nhad said, to work. Of all the boys hurrying back to St Xavier's, from\nSukkur in the sands to Galle beneath the palms, none was so filled with\nvirtue as Kimball O'Hara,","the cheap cabs wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother's\nsister; but his mother had been nursemaid in a Colonel's family and had\nmarried Kimball O'Hara, a young colour-sergeant of the Mavericks, an\nIrish regiment. He afterwards took a post on the Sind, Punjab, and\nDelhi Railway, and his Regiment went home without him. The wife died\nof cholera in Ferozepore, and O'Hara fell to drink and loafing up and","ly remembering O'Hara's prophecies,\n'there will come for you a great Red Bull on a green field, and the\nColonel riding on his tall horse, yes, and' dropping into\nEnglish--'nine hundred devils.'\n\n'Ah,' said Kim, 'I shall remember. A Red Bull and a Colonel on a horse\nwill come, but first, my father said, will come the two men making\nready the ground for these matters. That is how my father said they\nalways did; and it is always so when men work magic.'\n\nIf","Oah! I tell you we are all proud of you. It was verree neat and\nhandy. Our mutual friend, he is old friend of mine. He has been in\nsome dam'-tight places. Now he will be in some more. He told me; I\ntell Mr Lurgan; and he is pleased you graduate so nicely. All the\nDepartment is pleased.'\n\nFor the first time in his life, Kim thrilled to the clean pride (it can\nbe a deadly pitfall, none the less) of Departmental praise--ens","?' The old servitor curled\nhis white moustaches savagely in the young moonlight. 'I am\nresponsible for the honour of this house. Go!' and he drove the\nunderlings before him.\n\nSaid the hakim, hardly more than shaping the words with his lips: 'How\ndo you do, Mister O'Hara? I am jolly glad to see you again.'\n\nKim's hand clenched about the pipe-stem. Anywhere on the open road,\nperhaps, he would not","verree good. My word, Mister O'Hara, they know about you and the\nlama for fifty miles--the common people. So I come. Do you mind?'\n\n'Babuji,' said Kim, looking up at the broad, grinning face, 'I am a\nSahib.'\n\n'My dear Mister O'Hara--'\n\n'And I hope to play the Great Game.'\n\n'You are subordinate to me departmentally at present.'\n\n'Then why talk like an ape in a tree? Men","World'--Kim started at the title.\n'Would I had a few of the years that so irk thee. I have proved thee\nin several small ways. This will not be forgotten when I make my\nreport to the Colonel Sahib.' Then, changing suddenly into English\nwith a deep laugh:\n\n'By Jove! O'Hara, I think there is a great deal in you; but you must\nnot become proud and you must not talk. You must go back to Lucknow\nand be a good little boy and mind your book, as","harebell down the valleys and round the\nmountain sides, and in due time the lama and Kim, who steered by\ncompass, would overhaul it, vending ointments and powders at eventide.\n'We came by such and such a way!' The lama would throw a careless\nfinger backward at the ridges, and the umbrella would expend itself in\ncompliments.\n\nThey crossed a snowy pass in cold moonlight, when the lama, mildly\nchaffing Kim, went through up to his knees, like",". He returned\nalone, weeping, with news that young O'Hara, to whom he had been doing\nnothing in particular, had hailed a scarlet-bearded nigger on\nhorseback; that the nigger had then and there laid into him with a\npeculiarly adhesive quirt, picked up young O'Hara, and borne him off at\nfull gallop. These tidings came to Father Victor, and he drew down his\nlong upper lip. He was already sufficiently startled by a letter from\nthe Temple of the Tirthank","finished\nhis slumbers with a serene mind.\n\nIn the morning he was aware of Lurgan Sahib looking down on him.\n\n'Oah!' said Kim, firmly resolved to cling to his Sahib-dom. 'There\nwas a box in the night that gave me bad talk. So I stopped it. Was it\nyour box?'\n\nThe man held out his hand.\n\n'Shake hands, O'Hara,' he said. 'Yes, it was my box. I keep such\nthings because my friends the","Shake hands, O'Hara,' he said. 'Yes, it was my box. I keep such\nthings because my friends the Rajahs like them. That one is broken,\nbut it was cheap at the price. Yes, my friends, the Kings, are very\nfond of toys--and so am I sometimes.'\n\nKim looked him over out of the corners of his eyes. He was a Sahib in\nthat he wore Sahib's clothes; the accent of his Urdu, the intonation of\nhis English, showed that",". Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached\nthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white\nmen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim\ndid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful\nwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was\nhand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al\nRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian\nNights","man.\n\n He was quick and quicker to learn--\n Bold and bolder to dare:\n He danced the dread Kloo-Kwallie Dance\n To tickle Itswoot the Bear!\n\n Oregon Legend\n\n\nKim flung himself whole-heartedly upon the next turn of the wheel. He\nwould be a Sahib again for a while. In that idea, so soon as he had\nreached the broad road under Simla Town Hall, he cast about for one to\nimpress. A Hindu child, some ten"],["? I am only a boy. Wait till I am a man.' Then,\nseeing the Colonel's brow clouded, he went on: 'But I think I should\nin a few days earn the hundred rupees.'\n\n'By what road?'\n\nKim shook his head resolutely. 'If I said how I would earn them,\nanother man might hear and forestall me. It is not good to sell\nknowledge for nothing.'\n\n'Tell now.' The Colonel held up a rupee. Kim's hand half reached","; I am\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\n\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If",". Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached\nthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white\nmen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim\ndid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful\nwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was\nhand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al\nRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian\nNights","though he spoke the\nvernacular by preference, and his mother-tongue in a clipped uncertain\nsing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the\nsmall boys of the bazar; Kim was white--a poor white of the very\npoorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him (she smoked opium,\nand pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the square where\nthe cheap cabs wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother's\nsister; but his mother had been nursemaid in",". So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\nemployment.\n\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No","eting, and not one fold of it could Kim refer to\nany known trade or profession. At his belt hung a long open-work iron\npencase and a wooden rosary such as holy men wear. On his head was a\ngigantic sort of tam-o'-shanter. His face was yellow and wrinkled, like\nthat of Fook Shing, the Chinese bootmaker in the bazar. His eyes\nturned up at the corners and looked like little slits of onyx.\n\n'Who is that?' said Kim to his companions.\n"," Alas! It is a great and terrible\nworld.'\n\nKim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried his\nown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck.\nMahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his\nEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,\nmade him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the","struck Kim--he\nwould teach the boy to write in return for food. Kim had been kicked\nas far as single letters, but did not think well of them.\n\n'I do not know anything. Go away!' said Kim, scenting evil. Hereupon\nthe man caught him by the ear, dragged him to a room in a far-off wing\nwhere a dozen drummer-boys were sitting on forms, and told him to be\nstill if he could do nothing else. This he managed very successfully.\nThe man explained something or other with white lines on a","It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\n\n'Protector of the Poor!'\n\nThe man backed towards the voice.\n\n'Mahb","not impress Kim as much as the knowledge that his raiment\nwould tire him out if he tried to run. He slouched to the tree at the\ncorner of a bare road leading towards the bazar, and eyed the natives\npassing. Most of them were barrack-servants of the lowest caste. Kim\nhailed a sweeper, who promptly retorted with a piece of unnecessary\ninsolence, in the natural belief that the European boy could not follow\nit. The low, quick answer undeceived him. Kim put his fettered","street boy, and Kim stored it in a\nsecret place under some baulks in Nila Ram's timber-yard, beyond the\nPunjab High Court, where the fragrant deodar logs lie seasoning after\nthey have driven down the Ravi. When there was business or frolic\nafoot, Kim would use his properties, returning at dawn to the veranda,\nall tired out from shouting at the heels of a marriage procession, or\nyelling at a Hindu festival. Sometimes there was food in the house,\nmore often there was not, and then Kim","and Kim lay out behind the\nlittle knot of Mahbub's followers, almost under the wheels of a\nhorse-truck, a borrowed blanket for covering. Now a bed among\nbrickbats and ballast-refuse on a damp night, between overcrowded\nhorses and unwashed Baltis, would not appeal to many white boys; but\nKim was utterly happy. Change of scene, service, and surroundings were\nthe breath of his little nostrils, and thinking of the neat white cots\nof St Xavier's all a","a corner. The breezes\nfanned over him, the parrots shrieked at him, the noises of the\npopulated house behind--squabbles, orders, and reproofs--hit on dead\nears.\n\n'I am Kim. I am Kim. And what is Kim?' His soul repeated it again\nand again.\n\nHe did not want to cry--had never felt less like crying in his\nlife--but of a sudden easy, stupid tears trickled down his nose, and\nwith an almost audible click he felt the wheels of","up and asked if Kim would accept his\nhospitality for the night. The priest recommended him to do so, but\ninsisted that the honour of entertaining the lama belonged to the\ntemple--at which the lama smiled guilelessly. Kim glanced from one\nface to the other, and drew his own conclusions.\n\n'Where is the money?' he whispered, beckoning the old man off into the\ndarkness.\n\n'In my bosom. Where else?'\n\n'Give it me. Quietly and swiftly give it me.'\n","The woman sighed aloud, and Kim relented.\n\n'There is no payment till service has been rendered. Carry this to the\nBabu, and say it was sent by the Son of the Charm.'\n\n'Ai! Truly! Truly! By a magician--who is like a Sahib.'\n\n'Nay, a Son of the Charm: and ask if there be any answer.'\n\n'But if he offer a rudeness? I--I am afraid.'\n\nKim laughed. 'He is,","as he had\nreached the broad road under Simla Town Hall, he cast about for one to\nimpress. A Hindu child, some ten years old, squatted under a lamp-post.\n\n'Where is Mr Lurgan's house?' demanded Kim.\n\n'I do not understand English,' was the answer, and Kim shifted his\nspeech accordingly.\n\n'I will show.'\n\nTogether they set off through the mysterious dusk, full of the noises\nof a city below the hillside, and the breath of a cool wind in\ndeodar","\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\n\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\n\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher","\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\n\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\n\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\ntale of the thief and the search?'\n\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l","know. He is not like other boys. Go and see. It is well\nworth.'\n\nKim danced with impatience when the slim young Kayeth hove in sight.\nAs soon as his voice could carry he cursed him volubly.\n\n'First I will take my pay,' the letter-writer said. 'Bad words have\nmade the price higher. But who art thou, dressed in that fashion, to\nspeak in this fashion?'\n\n'Aha! That is in the letter which thou shalt write. Never was such a\n","on ashes. The\nevening patrol hurried out of the police-station with important\ncoughings and reiterated orders; and a live charcoal ball in the cup of\na wayside carter's hookah glowed red while Kim's eye mechanically\nwatched the last flicker of the sun on the brass tweezers.\n\nThe life of the parao was very like that of the Kashmir Serai on a\nsmall scale. Kim dived into the happy Asiatic disorder which, if you\nonly allow time, will bring you everything that a"],["Then Mahbub Ali rolled across the serai to the Gate of the Harpies who\npaint their eyes and trap the stranger, and was at some pains to call\non the one girl who, he had reason to believe, was a particular friend\nof a smooth-faced Kashmiri pundit who had waylaid his simple Balti in\nthe matter of the telegrams. It was an utterly foolish thing to do;\nbecause they fell to drinking perfumed brandy against the Law of the\nProphet, and Mahbub grew wonderfully drunk, and the gates of"," Mahbub gave the money.\n\n'Rememberest thou the little business of the thieves in the dark, down\nyonder at Umballa?'\n\n'Seeing they sought my life, I have not altogether forgotten. Why?'\n\n'Rememberest thou the Kashmir Serai?'\n\n'I will twist thy ears in a moment--Sahib.'\n\n'No need--Pathan. Only, the second fakir, whom the Sahibs beat\nsenseless, was the man who came to search thy bulkhead at Lah","'What talk is this of us, Sahib?' Mahbub Ali returned, in the tone he\nused towards Europeans. 'I am a Pathan; thou art a Sahib and the son\nof a Sahib. Lurgan Sahib has a shop among the European shops. All\nSimla knows it. Ask there ... and, Friend of all the World, he is one\nto be obeyed to the last wink of his eyelashes. Men say he does magic,\nbut that should not touch thee. Go up the hill","Mahbub's palm on his heart.\n\n'Hi! Mahbub, you old villain, pull up!' cried a voice, and an\nEnglishman raced alongside on a little polo-pony. 'I've been chasing\nyou half over the country. That Kabuli of yours can go. For sale, I\nsuppose?'\n\n'I have some young stuff coming on made by Heaven for the delicate and\ndifficult polo-game. He has no equal. He--'\n\n'Plays polo and wait","have outmanoeuvred an\nenemy, but as Mahbub Ali cleared his throat, tightened his belt, and\nstaggered forth under the early morning stars, he came very near to it.\n\n'What a colt's trick!' said he to himself. 'As if every girl in\nPeshawur did not use it! But 'twas prettily done. Now God He knows\nhow many more there be upon the Road who have orders to test\nme--perhaps with the knife. So it stands that the boy must go to\n","from\nher lap. 'I earn my money. Farrukh Shah is a bear, Ali Beg a\nswashbuckler, and old Sikandar Khan--yaie! Go! I sleep now. This\nswine will not stir till dawn.'\n\nWhen Mahbub woke, the Flower talked to him severely on the sin of\ndrunkenness. Asiatics do not wink when they have outmanoeuvred an\nenemy, but as Mahbub Ali cleared his throat, tightened his belt, and\nstaggered forth",",\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\n\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\nevery time he","Mahbub Ali's sake. Meantime, there was the present, and not at\nall unpleasant, fact of St Xavier's immediately before him. There\nwould be new boys to condescend to, and there would be tales of holiday\nadventures to hear. Young Martin, son of the tea-planter at Manipur,\nhad boasted that he would go to war, with a rifle, against the\nhead-hunters.\n\nThat might be, but it was certain young Martin had not been blown half\nacross the forecourt of","as the people do whom he watches, he may be slain. Why\nhinder him now? Remember how the Persians say: The jackal that lives\nin the wilds of Mazanderan can only be caught by the hounds of\nMazanderan.'\n\n'True. It is true, Mahbub Ali. And if he comes to no harm, I do not\ndesire anything better. But it is great insolence on his part.'\n\n'He does not tell me, even, whither he goes,' said Mahbub. 'He","Mahbub Ali raised his voice.\n\n'Allah! Art thou the only beggar in the city? Thy mother is dead. Thy\nfather is dead. So is it with all of them. Well, well--'\n\nHe turned as feeling on the floor beside him and tossed a flap of soft,\ngreasy Mussalman bread to the boy. 'Go and lie down among my horseboys\nfor tonight--thou and the lama. Tomorrow I may give thee service.'\n\nKim slunk away, his teeth in"," They send me to a school and beat me.\nI do not like the air and water here. Come then and help me, Mahbub\nAli, or send me some money, for I have not sufficient to pay the writer\nwho writes this.'\n\n'\"Who writes this.\" It is my own fault that I was tricked. Thou art\nas clever as Husain Bux that forged the Treasury stamps at Nucklao.\nBut what a tale! What a tale! Is it true by any chance?'\n\n'It does not profit to tell lies","Friend of all the World,' said Mahbub, pushing over the pipe for the\nboy to clean, 'I have met many men, women, and boys, and not a few\nSahibs. I have never in all my days met such an imp as thou art.'\n\n'And why? When I always tell thee the truth.'\n\n'Perhaps the very reason, for this is a world of danger to honest men.'\nMahbub Ali hauled himself off the ground, girt in his belt, and went\nover to the horses.\n\n'Or sell","full search into his saddlebags and between the soles of his\nslippers. Is that news to tell to the Colonel, or would he say to\nme--(I have not forgotten when he sent me back for a cigar-case that he\nhad not left behind him)--\"What is Mahbub Ali to me?\"?'\n\nUp went a gout of heavy smoke. There was a long pause: then Mahbub\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahib","remembered the conversation in the train, and\noften in the past few months had caught himself thinking of the queer,\nsilent, self-possessed boy. His evasion, of course, was the height of\ninsolence, but it argued some resource and nerve.\n\nMahbub's eyes twinkled as he reined out into the centre of the cramped\nlittle plain, where none could come near unseen.\n\n'\"The Friend of the Stars, who is the Friend of all the World--\"'\n\n'What is this?'\n\n'A name"," But as regards Lutuf Ullah--a tall man\nwith a broken nose, and a Persian greyhound Aie!'\n\nThe boy had hurried off to wake up a young and enthusiastic policeman;\nfor, as he said, the Railway had suffered much from depredations in the\ngoods-yard. Mahbub Ali chuckled in his dyed beard.\n\n'They will walk in their boots, making a noise, and then they will\nwonder why there are no fakirs. They are very clever boys--Barton\nSahib","Sahib, always a Sahib. When thou art a man--who knows?--thou wilt be\ngrateful to Mahbub Ali.'\n\n'Take me beyond their sentries where I can change this red. Give me\nmoney and I will go to Benares and be with my lama again. I do not\nwant to be a Sahib, and remember I did deliver that message.'\n\nThe stallion bounded wildly. Mahbub Ali had incautiously driven home\nthe sharp-edged stirrup. (He was","\n\n'At least Mahbub knows,' he thought contentedly. 'And certainly he\nspoke as one expecting it. I do not think those two men will profit by\ntonight's watch.'\n\nAn hour passed, and, with the best will in the world to keep awake all\nnight, he slept deeply. Now and again a night train roared along the\nmetals within twenty feet of him; but he had all the Oriental's\nindifference to mere noise, and it did not even weave a dream through\nhis slumber.\n\nMahb","in his\nbosom.\n\n'That soldier is a small fish,' Mahbub Ali explained, 'but in time we\nshall catch the larger one. He only sells oxen at two prices--one for\nhimself and one for the Government--which I do not think is a sin.'\n\n'Why could not I take away the little book and be done with it?'\n\n'Then he would have been frightened, and he would have told his master.\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\ntheir way up from Quetta to","to come to hand. However, God\nwas great, and Mahbub Ali felt he had done all he could for the time\nbeing. Kim was the one soul in the world who had never told him a lie.\nThat would have been a fatal blot on Kim's character if Mahbub had not\nknown that to others, for his own ends or Mahbub's business, Kim could\nlie like an Oriental.\n\nThen Mahbub Ali rolled across the serai to the Gate of the Harpies who\npaint their eyes and trap the stranger, and was at","y, Mahbub. And where is he?'\n\n'Selling horses in this vi-cinity, of course.'\n\n'Here! Why? Speak slowly. There is a thickness in my head still.'\n\nThe Babu looked shyly down his nose. 'Well, you see, I am fearful man,\nand I do not like responsibility. You were sick, you see, and I did\nnot know where deuce-an'-all the papers were, and if so, how many. So\nwhen I had come down here I slipped"],["the Lung-Cho Monastery--gave it me,' stammered the lama. 'He spoke\nof these.' His lean hand moved tremulously round.\n\n'Welcome, then, O lama from Tibet. Here be the images, and I am\nhere'--he glanced at the lama's face--'to gather knowledge. Come to my\noffice awhile.' The old man was trembling with excitement.\n\nThe office was but a little wooden cubicle partitioned off from the\nsculpture-lined gallery. Kim laid himself","know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing.\nVillages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, for\nnot only has the lama given them blessings, but his disciple good\nmoney--full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve miles a day has the dooli\ntravelled, as the greasy, rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few\nSahibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dust\nfilled every fold of the imp","\nbeyond marvels.'\n\n'I have written it for many years,' said the lama. 'Time was when I\ncould write it all between one lamp-lighting and the next. I will\nteach thee the art--after due preparation; and I will show thee the\nmeaning of the Wheel.'\n\n'We take the Road, then?'\n\n'The Road and our Search. I was but waiting for thee. It was made\nplain to me in a hundred dreams--notably one that came upon the night\nof the day that the","\nThe lama held his peace. Except for the click of the rosary and a\nfaint clop-clop of Mahbub's retreating feet, the soft, smoky silence of\nevening in India wrapped them close.\n\n'Hear me! I bring news.'\n\n'But let us--'\n\nOut shot the long yellow hand compelling silence. Kim tucked his feet\nunder his robe-edge obediently.\n\n'Hear me! I bring news! The Search is finished. Comes now the\nR","\n'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more.\nHe says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants to\nbe washed of his sins.'\n\nNeither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready.\n\nSaid Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you\nwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\nhere to find the Red Bull","'Yes--and no,' the lama replied. 'We--we have not altogether parted,\nbut the time is not ripe that we should take the Road together. He\nacquires wisdom in another place. We must wait.'\n\n'All one--but if it were not the boy how did he come to speak so\ncontinually of thee?'\n\n'And what said he?' asked the lama eagerly.\n\n'Sweet words--an hundred thousand--that thou art his father and mother\nand such all. Pity that he does not take","-caught forms and faces and shadows. The voices of early evening\nhad settled down to one soothing hum whose deepest note was the steady\nchumping of the bullocks above their chopped straw, and whose highest\nwas the tinkle of a Bengali dancing-girl's sitar. Most men had eaten\nand pulled deep at their gurgling, grunting hookahs, which in full\nblast sound like bull-frogs.\n\nAt last the lama returned. A hillman walked behind him with a wadded\ncotton-quilt and spread","But this was used for the initiation of a novice. Tell him so, hakim.'\n\n'He wishes it now--for money.'\n\nThe lama shook his head slowly and began to fold up the Wheel. The\nRussian, on his side, saw no more than an unclean old man haggling over\na dirty piece of paper. He drew out a handful of rupees, and snatched\nhalf-jestingly at the chart, which tore in the lama's grip. A low\nmurmur of horror went up from the","my bones, waiting. The Search is\nsure!'\n\n'I am answered. Is it permitted to ask a question?'\n\nThe lama inclined his stately head.\n\n'I ate thy bread for three years--as thou knowest. Holy One, whence\ncame--?'\n\n'There is much wealth, as men count it, in Bhotiyal,' the lama returned\nwith composure. 'In my own place I have the illusion of honour. I ask\nfor that I need. I am not concerned with the account. That is for my\n","ore all the weight of it--the burden of an old man, the burden of the\nheavy food-bag with the locked books, the load of the writings on his\nheart, and the details of the daily routine. He begged in the dawn,\nset blankets for the lama's meditation, held the weary head on his lap\nthrough the noonday heats, fanning away the flies till his wrists\nached, begged again in the evenings, and rubbed the lama's feet, who\nrewarded him with promise of Freedom--today,","archbishop\nwould pawn the holy vessels of his cathedral. All Tibet is full of\ncheap reproductions of the Wheel; but the lama was an artist, as well\nas a wealthy Abbot in his own place.\n\n'Perhaps in three days, or four, or ten, if I perceive that the Sahib\nis a Seeker and of good understanding, I may myself draw him another.\nBut this was used for the initiation of a novice. Tell him so, hakim.'\n\n'He wishes it now--for money","at his eyes--hollow and sunk--and the Betraying Line from the nose\ndown! He has been sifted out! Fie! Fie! And a priest, too!'\n\nKim looked up, over-weary to smile, shaking his head in denial.\n\n'Do not jest,' said the lama. 'That time is done. We are here upon\ngreat matters. A sickness of soul took me in the Hills, and him a\nsickness of the body. Since then I have lived upon his\n","acquired merit,' says the lama. 'Merit greater than your\nknowing. And ye will return to the Hills,' he sighs.\n\n'Surely. The high Hills as soon as may be.' The bearer rubs his\nshoulder, drinks water, spits it out again, and readjusts his grass\nsandal. Kim--his face is drawn and tired--pays very small silver from\nhis belt, heaves out the food-bag, crams an oilskin packet--they are\nholy writings--into his bosom, and","'And if you\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\nto interfere.'\n\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\nwatched the lama's face.\n\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by","?'\n\n'Why should I regard? I remember the hakim was concerned for the body\nof Teshoo Lama. He haled it out of the holy water in his hands, and\nthere came afterwards thy horse-seller from the North with a cot and\nmen, and they put the body on the cot and bore it up to the Sahiba's\nhouse.'\n\n'What said the Sahiba?'\n\n'I was meditating in that body, and did not hear. So thus the Search\nis ended. For the merit that I have","\n\n'In my bosom. Where else?'\n\n'Give it me. Quietly and swiftly give it me.'\n\n'But why? Here is no ticket to buy.'\n\n'Am I thy chela, or am I not? Do I not safeguard thy old feet about\nthe ways? Give me the money and at dawn I will return it.' He slipped\nhis hand above the lama's girdle and brought away the purse.\n\n'Be it so--be it so.' The old man nodded his head.","res the lama, a little thinner and a shade yellower,\nif that were possible, but gentle and untainted as ever. Sometimes it\nwas from the South that he came--from south of Tuticorin, whence the\nwonderful fire-boats go to Ceylon where are priests who know Pali;\nsometimes it was from the wet green West and the thousand\ncotton-factory chimneys that ring Bombay; and once from the North,\nwhere he had doubled back eight hundred miles to talk for a day with\nthe Keeper of the","The books of my lamassery I read, and they were dried\npith; and the later ritual with which we of the Reformed Law have\ncumbered ourselves--that, too, had no worth to these old eyes. Even\nthe followers of the Excellent One are at feud on feud with one\nanother. It is all illusion. Ay, maya, illusion. But I have another\ndesire'--the seamed yellow face drew within three inches of the\nCurator, and the long forefinger-nail tapped on the table. 'Your","whereas he was but a growing lad\nfaint with emptiness.\n\nLong and formal were the farewells, thrice ended and thrice renewed.\nThe Seeker--he who had invited the lama to that haven from far-away\nTibet, a silver-faced, hairless ascetic--took no part in it, but\nmeditated, as always, alone among the images. The others were very\nhuman; pressing small comforts upon the old man--a betel-box, a fine\nnew iron pencase, a food-bag, and such","be,' said the lama. 'He has gone back to his own people.'\n\n'He sat in that corner telling a hundred merry tales five nights ago,'\nhis host insisted. 'True, he vanished somewhat suddenly in the dawn\nafter foolish talk with my granddaughter. He grows apace, but he is\nthe same Friend of the Stars as brought me true word of the war. Have\nye parted?'\n\n'Yes--and no,' the lama replied. 'We--we have not altogether parted,\nbut the time is not ripe that we"],[",\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\n\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\nevery time he","\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\n\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\n\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\ntale of the thief and the search?'\n\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l",": I have seen them. Give me a\nrupee, Mahbub Ali, and when I come to my wealth I will give thee a bond\nand pay.'\n\n'Um!' said Mahbub Ali, thinking swiftly. 'Thou hast never before lied\nto me. Call that lama--stand back in the dark.'\n\n'Oh, our tales will agree,' said Kim, laughing.\n\n'We go to Benares,' said the lama, as soon as he understood the drift\nof Mahbub Ali's questions. ","least. I sent him to deliver a message\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\nstallion.'\n\nHere was deadly insult on deadlier injury--and the Sahib to whom he had\nso craftily given that war-waking letter heard it all. Kim beheld\nMahbub Ali frying in flame for his treachery, but for himself he saw\none long grey vista of barracks, schools, and barracks again. He gazed\nimploringly at the clear-cut face in which there was","it is time to go again to Nucklao.'\n\n'I had sooner lodge with thee, Mahbub.'\n\n'Thou dost not know the honour. Lurgan Sahib himself asked for thee.\nThou wilt go up the hill and along the road atop, and there thou must\nforget for a while that thou hast ever seen or spoken to me, Mahbub\nAli, who sells horses to Creighton Sahib, whom thou dost not know.\nRemember this order.'\n\nKim nodded. '"," Alas! It is a great and terrible\nworld.'\n\nKim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried his\nown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck.\nMahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his\nEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,\nmade him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the","and beat his hand on his thigh.\n\n'Shabash! Shabash! Oh, well done, little one! What will the healer\nof turquoises say to this? Now, slowly, let us hear what befell\nafterwards--step by step, omitting nothing.'\n\nStep by step then, Kim told his adventures between coughs as the\nfull-flavoured tobacco caught his lungs.\n\n'I said,' growled Mahbub Ali to himself, 'I said it was the pony\nbreaking out to play polo. The","and the big burly Afghan,\nhis beard dyed scarlet with lime (for he was elderly and did not wish\nhis grey hairs to show), knew the boy's value as a gossip. Sometimes\nhe would tell Kim to watch a man who had nothing whatever to do with\nhorses: to follow him for one whole day and report every soul with\nwhom he talked. Kim would deliver himself of his tale at evening, and\nMahbub would listen without a word or gesture. It was intrigue of some\nkind, Kim knew; but its worth","to come to hand. However, God\nwas great, and Mahbub Ali felt he had done all he could for the time\nbeing. Kim was the one soul in the world who had never told him a lie.\nThat would have been a fatal blot on Kim's character if Mahbub had not\nknown that to others, for his own ends or Mahbub's business, Kim could\nlie like an Oriental.\n\nThen Mahbub Ali rolled across the serai to the Gate of the Harpies who\npaint their eyes and trap the stranger, and was at","?' The Englishman switched at the rose-hedge in\nthe side of the drive.\n\n'Mahbub Ali has given me this proof.' Kim flipped the wad of folded\npaper into the air, and it fell in the path beside the man, who put his\nfoot on it as a gardener came round the corner. When the servant passed\nhe picked it up, dropped a rupee--Kim could hear the clink--and strode\ninto the house, never turning round. Swiftly Kim took up the money;\nbut for all his training,","othed by the promise.\n\n'Is he not quite mad?' said Kim, coming forward to the light again.\n'Why should I lie to thee, Hajji?'\n\nMahbub puffed his hookah in silence. Then he began, almost whispering:\n'Umballa is on the road to Benares--if indeed ye two go there.'\n\n'Tck! Tck! I tell thee he does not know how to lie--as we two know.'\n\n'And if thou wilt carry a message for me as far as","\nhere.'\n\n'And this is known to me also,' said Kim, readjusting the live\ncharcoal-ball on the weed. 'It is a very sure tie between us. Indeed,\nthy hold is surer even than mine; for who would miss a boy beaten to\ndeath, or, it may be, thrown into a well by the roadside? Most people\nhere and in Simla and across the passes behind the Hills would, on the\nother hand, say: \"What has come to Mahbub Ali?\" if he were found dead\namong his horses","Allah on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub heartily, and\nclimbed into his own stall, growling in his beard.\n\nBut it was Kim who had wakened the lama--Kim with one eye laid against\na knot-hole in the planking, who had seen the Delhi man's search\nthrough the boxes. This was no common thief that turned over letters,\nbills, and saddles--no mere burglar who ran a little knife sideways\ninto the soles of Mahbub's slippers","'I do not think it is often that\na Sahib and the son of a Sahib runs away from there.'\n\n'How should they? They do not know the land. It was nothing,' said\nKim, and began his tale. When he came to the disguisement and the\ninterview with the girl in the bazar, Mahbub Ali's gravity went from\nhim. He laughed aloud and beat his hand on his thigh.\n\n'Shabash! Shabash! Oh, well done, little one! What will","\n'I said,' growled Mahbub Ali to himself, 'I said it was the pony\nbreaking out to play polo. The fruit is ripe already--except that he\nmust learn his distances and his pacings, and his rods and his\ncompasses. Listen now. I have turned aside the Colonel's whip from\nthy skin, and that is no small service.'\n\n'True.' Kim pulled serenely. 'That is true.'\n\n'But it is not to be thought that this running out and in is any way\ngood.'","\nMahbub Ali hauled himself off the ground, girt in his belt, and went\nover to the horses.\n\n'Or sell it?'\n\nThere was that in the tone that made Mahbub halt and turn. 'What new\ndevilry?'\n\n'Eight annas, and I will tell,' said Kim, grinning. 'It touches thy\npeace.'\n\n'O Shaitan!' Mahbub gave the money.\n\n'Rememberest thou the little business of the thieves in the dark, down\nyonder at","went over to the railway station in charge of a\nfoolish Balti, who allowed all sorts of people to read them on the road.\n\nWhen, in Mahbub's own picturesque language, he had muddied the wells of\ninquiry with the stick of precaution, Kim had dropped on him, sent from\nHeaven; and, being as prompt as he was unscrupulous, Mahbub Ali used to\ntaking all sorts of gusty chances, pressed him into service on the spot.\n\nA wandering lama with a low-caste",". It needed only to say to that man, \"I\nhave here a paper concerning a horse which I cannot read.\" And then?'\nKim peered at Mahbub under his eyebrows.\n\n'Then thou wouldst have drunk water twice--perhaps thrice, afterwards.\nI do not think more than thrice,' said Mahbub simply.\n\n'It is true. I thought of that a little, but most I thought that I\nloved thee, Mahbub. Therefore I went to Umballa, as thou knowest, but\n(and this","\nMahbub hired a room over against the railway station, sent for a cooked\nmeal of the finest with the almond-curd sweet-meats [balushai we call\nit] and fine-chopped Lucknow tobacco.\n\n'This is better than some other meat that I ate with the Sikh,' said\nKim, grinning as he squatted, 'and assuredly they give no such victuals\nat my madrissah.'\n\n'I have a desire to hear of that same madrissah.' Mahbub stuffed\nhimself with","me to captivity.'\n\n'Small wonder the Padre does not know how to unravel the thread. How\nfast he talks to the Colonel Sahib!' Mahbub Ali chuckled. 'By Allah!'\nthe keen eyes swept the veranda for an Instant--'thy lama has sent what\nto me looks like a note of hand. I have had some few dealings in\nhoondis. The Colonel Sahib is looking at it.'\n\n'What good is all this to me?' said Kim wearily. 'Thou wilt"],["because he was an old man, because he sought the\nWay, because he was their guest, and because he collogued long of\nnights with the head-priest--as free-thinking a metaphysician as ever\nsplit one hair into seventy--they murmured assent.\n\n'Remember,'--Kim bent over the child--. 'this trouble may come again.'\n\n'Not if thou hast the proper spell,' said the father.\n\n'But in a little while we go away.'\n\n'True,' said the lama to all the Jains","pressed to stay, the lama insisted on\ndeparture. They gave Kim a large bundle of good food and nearly three\nannas in copper money for the needs of the road, and with many\nblessings watched the two go southward in the dawn.\n\n'Pity it is that these and such as these could not be freed from--'\n\n'Nay, then would only evil people be left on the earth, and who would\ngive us meat and shelter?' quoth Kim, stepping merrily under his\nburden.\n\n'Yonder is a small","drawn.'\n\n'And his to thine, I hear. Hearts are like horses. They come and they\ngo against bit or spur. Shout Gul Sher Khan yonder to drive in that\nbay stallion's pickets more firmly. We do not want a horse-fight at\nevery resting-stage, and the dun and the black will be locked in a\nlittle ... Now hear me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart\nto see that lama?'\n\n'It is one part of my bond,' said Kim","and the money upon a paper and give it\nhim.\" And he says you must write your name below, because he is going\nto write a letter in some days to you. He says you are a good man. He\nsays the other man is a fool. He is going away.'\n\nThe lama rose suddenly. 'I follow my Search,' he cried, and was gone.\n\n'He'll run slap into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as\nthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim","times for 'conversing with improper persons',\nand it seems that he was once sentenced to heavy pains for 'absenting\nhimself for a day in the company of a street beggar'. That was when he\ngot over the gate and pleaded with the lama through a whole day down\nthe banks of the Gumti to accompany him on the Road next holidays--for\none month--for a little week; and the lama set his face as a flint\nagainst it, averring that the time had not yet come. Kim's business,\ns","me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart\nto see that lama?'\n\n'It is one part of my bond,' said Kim. 'If I do not see him, and if he\nis taken from me, I will go out of that madrissah in Nucklao and,\nand--once gone, who is to find me again?'\n\n'It is true. Never was colt held on a lighter heel-rope than thou.'\nMahbub nodded his head.\n\n'Do not be afraid.' Kim spoke as though he","at his eyes--hollow and sunk--and the Betraying Line from the nose\ndown! He has been sifted out! Fie! Fie! And a priest, too!'\n\nKim looked up, over-weary to smile, shaking his head in denial.\n\n'Do not jest,' said the lama. 'That time is done. We are here upon\ngreat matters. A sickness of soul took me in the Hills, and him a\nsickness of the body. Since then I have lived upon his\n","\nwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away this\nnight, for all I wanted to see the new things.'\n\nKim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating\nthe replies to the lama.\n\nThen: 'He says, \"You take him from me and you cannot say what you will\nmake him.\" He says, \"Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing\nto make a child.\"'\n\n'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see","their tickets in all sorts of curious places. Kim produced his and was\ntold to get out.\n\n'But I go to Umballa,' he protested. 'I go with this holy man.'\n\n'Thou canst go to Jehannum for aught I care. This ticket is only--'\n\nKim burst into a flood of tears, protesting that the lama was his\nfather and his mother, that he was the prop of the lama's declining\nyears, and that the lama would die without his care. All the","up and asked if Kim would accept his\nhospitality for the night. The priest recommended him to do so, but\ninsisted that the honour of entertaining the lama belonged to the\ntemple--at which the lama smiled guilelessly. Kim glanced from one\nface to the other, and drew his own conclusions.\n\n'Where is the money?' he whispered, beckoning the old man off into the\ndarkness.\n\n'In my bosom. Where else?'\n\n'Give it me. Quietly and swiftly give it me.'\n","\n\n'But I see now that he was but sent for a purpose. By this I know that\nI shall find a certain River for which I seek.'\n\n'The River of the Arrow?' said Kim, with a superior smile.\n\n'Is this yet another Sending?' cried the lama. 'To none have I spoken\nof my search, save to the Priest of the Images. Who art thou?'\n\n'Thy chela,' said Kim simply, sitting on his heels. 'I have never seen\nanyone like to thee in all this","\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\n\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\n\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher","while, I do not see that we in\nany way depart from our Search if so be we accompany her--at least as\nfar as--I have forgotten the name of the city.'\n\n'Ohe!' said Kim, turning and speaking in a sharp whisper to one of the\nOoryas a few yards away. 'Where is your master's house?'\n\n'A little behind Saharunpore, among the fruit gardens.' He named the\nvillage.\n\n'That was the place,' said the lama. 'So far, at least, we","into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as\nthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim made swift\nmotion to follow, but checked himself. There was no sound of challenge\noutside. The lama had disappeared.\n\nKim settled himself composedly on the Chaplain's cot. At least the\nlama had promised that he would stay with the Raiput woman from Kulu,\nand the rest was of the smallest importance. It pleased him that the\ntwo padres were so evidently excited.","God. Yes, once I made music on a\npianno in the Mission-house at Kotgarh. Now I give alms to priests who\nare heatthen.' She wound up with the English word, and tied the mouth\nof the brimming bag.\n\n'I wait for thee, chela,' said the lama, leaning against the door-post.\n\nThe woman swept the tall figure with her eyes. 'He walk! He cannot\ncover half a mile. Whither would old bones go?'\n\nAt this Kim, already perplexed by","'This is where the fire-carriages come. One stands behind that\nhole'--Kim pointed to the ticket-office--'who will give thee a paper to\ntake thee to Umballa.'\n\n'But we go to Benares,' he replied petulantly.\n\n'All one. Benares then. Quick: she comes!'\n\n'Take thou the purse.'\n\nThe lama, not so well used to trains as he had pretended, started as\nthe 3.25 a.m. south-bound ro","There was no sign of Kim or the lama.\n\n'Up!' He stirred a sleeper. 'Whither went those who lay here last\neven--the lama and the boy? Is aught missing?'\n\n'Nay,' grunted the man, 'the old madman rose at second cockcrow saying\nhe would go to Benares, and the young one led him away.'\n\n'The curse of Allah on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub heartily, and\nclimbed into his own stall, growling in his","will give him strength. Make a\ncharm! Call on thy great God. Thou art a priest.' She turned away.\n\nThe lama had squatted limply, still holding by the door-post. One\ncannot strike down an old man that he recovers again like a boy in the\nnight. Weakness bowed him to the earth, but his eyes that hung on Kim\nwere alive and imploring.\n\n'It is all well,' said Kim. 'It is the thin air that weakens thee. In\na little while","mother, that he was the prop of the lama's declining\nyears, and that the lama would die without his care. All the carriage\nbade the guard be merciful--the banker was specially eloquent here--but\nthe guard hauled Kim on to the platform. The lama blinked--he could\nnot overtake the situation and Kim lifted up his voice and wept outside\nthe carriage window.\n\n'I am very poor. My father is dead--my mother is dead. O charitable\nones, if I am left here, who","would have picked thy bones within ten mile of Lahore city\nif I had not guarded thee.'\n\n'I consider in my own mind whether thou art a spirit, sometimes, or\nsometimes an evil imp,' said the lama, smiling slowly.\n\n'I am thy chela.' Kim dropped into step at his side--that\nindescribable gait of the long-distance tramp all the world over.\n\n'Now let us walk,' muttered the lama, and to the click of his rosary\nthey walked in silence mile upon mile. The l"],["; I am\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\n\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If","of\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\n\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\nimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would go\nnorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor\nwould arrange for him.\n\n'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thought\nmore.\n\n'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\nkeep you out of mischief. You","\nwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away this\nnight, for all I wanted to see the new things.'\n\nKim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating\nthe replies to the lama.\n\nThen: 'He says, \"You take him from me and you cannot say what you will\nmake him.\" He says, \"Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing\nto make a child.\"'\n\n'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see","Oah! I tell you we are all proud of you. It was verree neat and\nhandy. Our mutual friend, he is old friend of mine. He has been in\nsome dam'-tight places. Now he will be in some more. He told me; I\ntell Mr Lurgan; and he is pleased you graduate so nicely. All the\nDepartment is pleased.'\n\nFor the first time in his life, Kim thrilled to the clean pride (it can\nbe a deadly pitfall, none the less) of Departmental praise--ens","a corner. The breezes\nfanned over him, the parrots shrieked at him, the noises of the\npopulated house behind--squabbles, orders, and reproofs--hit on dead\nears.\n\n'I am Kim. I am Kim. And what is Kim?' His soul repeated it again\nand again.\n\nHe did not want to cry--had never felt less like crying in his\nlife--but of a sudden easy, stupid tears trickled down his nose, and\nwith an almost audible click he felt the wheels of","a hand to show that the matter was finally settled in\nhis mind.\n\n'Now,'--his tone altered as he turned to Kim,--'what will they do with\nthee? At least I may, acquiring merit, wipe out past ill.'\n\n'Make me a Sahib--so they think. The day after tomorrow I return. Do\nnot grieve.'\n\n'Of what sort? Such an one as this or that man?' He pointed to Father\nVictor. 'Such an one as those I saw this evening, men wearing sw","meal at Kalka, he spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school?\nThen he, an M A of Calcutta University, would explain the advantages of\neducation. There were marks to be gained by due attention to Latin and\nWordsworth's Excursion (all this was Greek to Kim). French, too was\nvital, and the best was to be picked up in Chandernagore a few miles\nfrom Calcutta. Also a man might go far, as he himself had done, by\nstrict attention to plays called Lear and Julius","gan's impassive face changed. He considered the years\nto come when Kim would have been entered and made to the Great Game\nthat never ceases day and night, throughout India. He foresaw honour\nand credit in the mouths of a chosen few, coming to him from his pupil.\nLurgan Sahib had made E.23 what E.23 was, out of a bewildered,\nimpertinent, lying, little North-West Province man.\n\nBut the joy of these masters was pale and smoky beside the joy of Kim\n","him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet and\nswaddle him in these clothes. Then he will forget all he knows. Now,\nwhich of the barracks is thine?'\n\nKim pointed--he could not speak--to Father Victor's wing, all staring\nwhite near by.\n\n'Perhaps he will make a good soldier,' said Mahbub reflectively.\n\n'He will make a good orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a message\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\nstallion","him to be\nstill if he could do nothing else. This he managed very successfully.\nThe man explained something or other with white lines on a black board\nfor at least half an hour, and Kim continued his interrupted nap. He\nmuch disapproved of the present aspect of affairs, for this was the\nvery school and discipline he had spent two-thirds of his young life in\navoiding. Suddenly a beautiful idea occurred to him, and he wondered\nthat he had not thought of it before.\n\nThe man dismissed them, and first to spring through the veranda into","\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\n\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\n\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher",". So far\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\nemployment.\n\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No","is great insolence on his part.'\n\n'He does not tell me, even, whither he goes,' said Mahbub. 'He is no\nfool. When his time is accomplished he will come to me. It is time\nthe healer of pearls took him in hand. He ripens too quickly--as\nSahibs reckon.'\n\nThis prophecy was fulfilled to the letter a month later. Mahbub had\ngone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim\nmet him on the",", Holy One,' said Kim, forgetting the little\nplay just ended; forgetting St Xavier's; forgetting his white blood;\nforgetting even the Great Game as he stooped, Mohammedan-fashion, to\ntouch his master's feet in the dust of the Jain temple. 'My teaching I\nowe to thee. I have eaten thy bread three years. My time is finished.\nI am loosed from the schools. I come to thee.'\n\n'Herein is my reward. Enter! Enter! And is","ah I will go. At the madrissah I will learn. In the\nmadrissah I will be a Sahib. But when the madrissah is shut, then must\nI be free and go among my people. Otherwise I die!'\n\n'And who are thy people, Friend of all the World?'\n\n'This great and beautiful land,' said Kim, waving his paw round the\nlittle clay-walled room where the oil-lamp in its niche burned heavily\nthrough the tobacco-smoke. 'And, further,","antastically written in the corners. More to the point, he advised\nKim as to the care of his own body, the cure of fever-fits, and simple\nremedies of the Road. A week before it was time to go down, Colonel\nCreighton Sahib--this was unfair--sent Kim a written examination paper\nthat concerned itself solely with rods and chains and links and angles.\n\nNext holidays he was out with Mahbub, and here, by the way, he nearly\ndied of thirst, plodding through the sand on a cam","you have passed all your\nexaminations, and will soon obtain Government appointment. Oh ho! You\nare on acting-allowance, you see: so if you are called upon to help\nSons of the Charm mind you jolly-well try. Now I shall say good-bye, my\ndear fellow, and I hope you--ah--will come out top-side all raight.'\n\nHurree Babu stepped back a pace or two into the crowd at the entrance\nof Lucknow station and--was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and hugged\n",". Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached\nthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white\nmen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim\ndid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful\nwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was\nhand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al\nRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian\nNights","It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\n\n'Protector of the Poor!'\n\nThe man backed towards the voice.\n\n'Mahb","know. He is not like other boys. Go and see. It is well\nworth.'\n\nKim danced with impatience when the slim young Kayeth hove in sight.\nAs soon as his voice could carry he cursed him volubly.\n\n'First I will take my pay,' the letter-writer said. 'Bad words have\nmade the price higher. But who art thou, dressed in that fashion, to\nspeak in this fashion?'\n\n'Aha! That is in the letter which thou shalt write. Never was such a\n"],["know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing.\nVillages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, for\nnot only has the lama given them blessings, but his disciple good\nmoney--full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve miles a day has the dooli\ntravelled, as the greasy, rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few\nSahibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dust\nfilled every fold of the imp","his belt, heaves out the food-bag, crams an oilskin packet--they are\nholy writings--into his bosom, and helps the lama to his feet. The\npeace has come again into the old man's eyes, and he does not look for\nthe hills to fall down and crush him as he did that terrible night when\nthey were delayed by the flooded river.\n\nThe men pick up the dooli and swing out of sight between the scrub\nclumps.\n\nThe lama raises a hand toward the rampart of the Himalayas.","day they struck deeper into the huddled mountains, and day\nafter day Kim watched the lama return to a man's strength. Among the\nterraces of the Doon he had leaned on the boy's shoulder, ready to\nprofit by wayside halts. Under the great ramp to Mussoorie he drew\nhimself together as an old hunter faces a well-remembered bank, and\nwhere he should have sunk exhausted swung his long draperies about him,\ndrew a deep double-lungful of the diamond air, and walked as only a\nhillman","the streets are paved with silver, and anyone,\nlook you, can get service with the Sahibs, who ride about in\ntwo-wheeled carts and spend money with a spade. Presently, grave and\naloof, walking very heavily, the lama joined himself to the chatter\nunder the eaves, and they gave him great room. The thin air refreshed\nhim, and he sat on the edge of precipices with the best of them, and,\nwhen talk languished, flung pebbles into the void. Thirty miles away,",",'\nsaid he.\n\n'It is this person who has suffered wrong,' said the lama, his hand\nover his brow.\n\n'For that very reason,' was the reply.\n\n'If this person overlooks it, your hands are clean. Moreover, ye\nacquire merit by obedience.'\n\n'Wait, and we will all go to Shamlegh together,' the man insisted.\n\nFor a moment, for just so long as it needs to stuff a cartridge into a\nbreech-loader, the lama hesitated. Then he","The shots ceased. There was a sound of stumbling feet, and Kim hurried\nupward through the gloom, swearing like a cat--or a country-bred.\n\n'Did they wound thee, chela?' called the lama above him.\n\n'No. And thou?' He dived into a clump of stunted firs.\n\n'Unhurt. Come away. We go with these folk to Shamlegh-under-the-Snow.'\n\n'But not before we have done justice,' a voice cried. ","Umballa to the very village whose priest had tried to\ndrug him; but the kind Heaven that guards lamas sent him at twilight\nthrough the crops, absorbed and unsuspicious, to the Rissaldar's door.\nHere was like to have been a grave misunderstanding, for the old\nsoldier asked him why the Friend of the Stars had gone that way only\nsix days before.\n\n'That may not be,' said the lama. 'He has gone back to his own people.'\n\n'He sat in that corner telling a hundred merry tales","\nand seeing only the tall silent figure, chuckled in his deep chest.\n\n'Allah! A lama! A Red Lama! It is far from Lahore to the Passes.\nWhat dost thou do here?'\n\nThe lama held out the begging-bowl mechanically.\n\n'God's curse on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub. 'I do not give to a\nlousy Tibetan; but ask my Baltis over yonder behind the camels. They\nmay value your blessings. Oh","-caught forms and faces and shadows. The voices of early evening\nhad settled down to one soothing hum whose deepest note was the steady\nchumping of the bullocks above their chopped straw, and whose highest\nwas the tinkle of a Bengali dancing-girl's sitar. Most men had eaten\nand pulled deep at their gurgling, grunting hookahs, which in full\nblast sound like bull-frogs.\n\nAt last the lama returned. A hillman walked behind him with a wadded\ncotton-quilt and spread","or ten thousand feet, those breezes bit; and Kim kindly allowed a\nvillage of hillmen to acquire merit by giving him a rough blanket-coat.\nThe lama was mildly surprised that anyone should object to the\nknife-edged breezes which had cut the years off his shoulders.\n\n'These are but the lower hills, chela. There is no cold till we come\nto the true Hills.'\n\n'Air and water are good, and the people are devout enough, but the food\nis very bad,' Kim growled; 'and we walk","harebell down the valleys and round the\nmountain sides, and in due time the lama and Kim, who steered by\ncompass, would overhaul it, vending ointments and powders at eventide.\n'We came by such and such a way!' The lama would throw a careless\nfinger backward at the ridges, and the umbrella would expend itself in\ncompliments.\n\nThey crossed a snowy pass in cold moonlight, when the lama, mildly\nchaffing Kim, went through up to his knees, like",", he was in demand among the lesser kings of those parts.\n\n'We will go in the cool of the evening, chela,' said the lama. 'That\ndoctor, learned in physic and courtesy, affirms that the people among\nthese lower hills are devout, generous, and much in need of a teacher.\nIn a very short time--so says the hakim--we come to cool air and the\nsmell of pines.'\n\n'Ye go to the Hills? And by Kulu road? Oh, thrice happy!' shr","\n'Hark!' said the lama. 'One beats a drum--far off!'\n\nAt first the sound, carrying diluted through the still air, resembled\nthe beating of an artery in the head. Soon a sharpness was added.\n\n'Ah! The music,' Kim explained. He knew the sound of a regimental\nband, but it amazed the lama.\n\nAt the far end of the plain a heavy, dusty column crawled in sight.\nThen the wind brought the tune:\n\n We crave your condesc",", chela.'\n\n'But the Sahibs did not know thee, Holy One?'\n\n'We were well matched. Ignorance and Lust met Ignorance and Lust upon\nthe road, and they begat Anger. The blow was a sign to me, who am no\nbetter than a strayed yak, that my place is not here. Who can read the\nCause of an act is halfway to Freedom! \"Back to the path,\" says the\nBlow. \"The Hills are not for thee. Thou can","precipices with the best of them, and,\nwhen talk languished, flung pebbles into the void. Thirty miles away,\nas the eagle flies, lay the next range, seamed and channelled and\npitted with little patches of brush--forests, each a day's dark march.\nBehind the village, Shamlegh hill itself cut off all view to southward.\nIt was like sitting in a swallow's nest under the eaves of the roof of\nthe world.\n\nFrom time to time the lama stretched out his hand,","to a\nlousy Tibetan; but ask my Baltis over yonder behind the camels. They\nmay value your blessings. Oh, horseboys, here is a countryman of\nyours. See if he be hungry.'\n\nA shaven, crouching Balti, who had come down with the horses, and who\nwas nominally some sort of degraded Buddhist, fawned upon the priest,\nand in thick gutturals besought the Holy One to sit at the horseboys'\nfire.\n\n'Go!' said Kim, pushing him"," Hai! in a whisper to the\nlight-sleeping old man. 'Come. It is time--time to go to Benares.'\n\nThe lama rose obediently, and they passed out of the serai like shadows.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 2\n\n\n And whoso will, from Pride released;\n Contemning neither creed nor priest,\n May feel the Soul of all the East.\n About him at Kamakura.\n\n Buddha at Kamakura.\n\n\nThey entered the fort","Gods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom.'\n\n'That is well said.' The lama was much impressed by the plan. 'We\nwill begin tomorrow, and a blessing on thee for showing old feet such a\nnear road.' A deep, sing-song Chinese half-chant closed the sentence.\nEven the priest was impressed, and the headman feared an evil spell:\nbut none could look at the lama's simple, eager face and doubt him long.\n\n'Seest thou my chela?' he said, diving into","\nThe lama dragged forth his rosary and pulled his huge hat-brim over his\neyes.\n\n'What can he want now?'\n\n'He says'--Kim put up one hand. 'He says: \"Be quiet.\" He wants to\nspeak to me by himself. You see, you do not know one little word of\nwhat he says, and I think if you talk he will perhaps give you very bad\ncurses. When he takes those beads like that, you see, he always wants\nto be quiet.'\n\nThe two","against evil spirits of the wood. He dreams of Bengali Gods,\nUniversity text-books of education, and the Royal Society, London,\nEngland. Next dawn the bobbing blue-and-white umbrella goes forward.\n\nOn the edge of the Doon, Mussoorie well behind them and the Plains\nspread out in golden dust before, rests a worn litter in which--all the\nHills know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing.\nVillages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing"],["Gods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom.'\n\n'That is well said.' The lama was much impressed by the plan. 'We\nwill begin tomorrow, and a blessing on thee for showing old feet such a\nnear road.' A deep, sing-song Chinese half-chant closed the sentence.\nEven the priest was impressed, and the headman feared an evil spell:\nbut none could look at the lama's simple, eager face and doubt him long.\n\n'Seest thou my chela?' he said, diving into","Umballa to the very village whose priest had tried to\ndrug him; but the kind Heaven that guards lamas sent him at twilight\nthrough the crops, absorbed and unsuspicious, to the Rissaldar's door.\nHere was like to have been a grave misunderstanding, for the old\nsoldier asked him why the Friend of the Stars had gone that way only\nsix days before.\n\n'That may not be,' said the lama. 'He has gone back to his own people.'\n\n'He sat in that corner telling a hundred merry tales","The shots ceased. There was a sound of stumbling feet, and Kim hurried\nupward through the gloom, swearing like a cat--or a country-bred.\n\n'Did they wound thee, chela?' called the lama above him.\n\n'No. And thou?' He dived into a clump of stunted firs.\n\n'Unhurt. Come away. We go with these folk to Shamlegh-under-the-Snow.'\n\n'But not before we have done justice,' a voice cried. ","\nThe lama held his peace. Except for the click of the rosary and a\nfaint clop-clop of Mahbub's retreating feet, the soft, smoky silence of\nevening in India wrapped them close.\n\n'Hear me! I bring news.'\n\n'But let us--'\n\nOut shot the long yellow hand compelling silence. Kim tucked his feet\nunder his robe-edge obediently.\n\n'Hear me! I bring news! The Search is finished. Comes now the\nR","But this was used for the initiation of a novice. Tell him so, hakim.'\n\n'He wishes it now--for money.'\n\nThe lama shook his head slowly and began to fold up the Wheel. The\nRussian, on his side, saw no more than an unclean old man haggling over\na dirty piece of paper. He drew out a handful of rupees, and snatched\nhalf-jestingly at the chart, which tore in the lama's grip. A low\nmurmur of horror went up from the","s and devils of the hills took vengeance. The\nFrenchman ran towards the lama, fumbling at his revolver with some\nnotion of making him a hostage for his companion. A shower of cutting\nstones--hillmen are very straight shots--drove him away, and a coolie\nfrom Ao-chung snatched the lama into the stampede. All came about as\nswiftly as the sudden mountain-darkness.\n\n'They have taken the baggage and all the guns,' yelled the Frenchman,\nfiring blindly into","the nose. 'Ohe.\nMahbub Ali!' He halted at a dark arch and slipped behind the\nbewildered lama.\n\nThe horse-trader, his deep, embroidered Bokhariot belt unloosed, was\nlying on a pair of silk carpet saddle-bags, pulling lazily at an\nimmense silver hookah. He turned his head very slightly at the cry;\nand seeing only the tall silent figure, chuckled in his deep chest.\n\n'Allah! A lama! A Red Lama","and the money upon a paper and give it\nhim.\" And he says you must write your name below, because he is going\nto write a letter in some days to you. He says you are a good man. He\nsays the other man is a fool. He is going away.'\n\nThe lama rose suddenly. 'I follow my Search,' he cried, and was gone.\n\n'He'll run slap into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as\nthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim","watching the lama intently. 'He can't take the boy away with him, and\nyet he's a good man--I'm sure he's a good man. Bennett, if you give him\nthat rupee he'll curse you root and branch!'\n\nThey listened to each other's breathing--three--five full minutes.\nThen the lama raised his head, and looked forth across them into space\nand emptiness.\n\n'And I am a Follower of the Way,' he said bitterly. 'The sin is mine\nand","to the nearest tobacco-seller, a rather lively young\nMohammedan woman, and begged a rank cigar of the brand that they sell\nto students of the Punjab University who copy English customs. Then he\nsmoked and thought, knees to chin, under the belly of the gun, and the\noutcome of his thoughts was a sudden and stealthy departure in the\ndirection of Nila Ram's timber-yard.\n\nThe lama did not wake till the evening life of the city had begun with\nlamp-lighting and the return of white-"," I only wished to see that\nthe boy had come to no harm and was a free agent. As thou knowest, he\nand I were old friends in the first days of your pilgrimage together.'\n\n'That is a bond between us.' The lama sat down. 'We are at the end of\nthe pilgrimage.'\n\n'No thanks to thee thine was not cut off for good and all a week back.\nI heard what the Sahiba said to thee when we bore thee up on the cot.'\nMahbub laughed, and","s shoulder.\n\nThey found the lama where he had dropped.\n\n'The Search is at an end for me,' shouted Kim in the vernacular. 'I\nhave found the Bull, but God knows what comes next. They will not hurt\nyou. Come to the fat priest's tent with this thin man and see the end.\nIt is all new, and they cannot talk Hindi. They are only uncurried\ndonkeys.'\n\n'Then it is not well to make a jest of their ignorance,' the lama\nreturned. 'I am","know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing.\nVillages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, for\nnot only has the lama given them blessings, but his disciple good\nmoney--full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve miles a day has the dooli\ntravelled, as the greasy, rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few\nSahibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dust\nfilled every fold of the imp","Then he attempted\nrunning off to the village where the priest had tried to drug the\nlama--the village where the old soldier lived. But far-seeing sentries\nat every exit headed back the little scarlet figure. Trousers and\njacket crippled body and mind alike so he abandoned the project and\nfell back, Oriental-fashion, on time and chance. Three days of torment\npassed in the big, echoing white rooms. He walked out of afternoons\nunder escort of the drummer-boy, and all he heard from his companions","day they struck deeper into the huddled mountains, and day\nafter day Kim watched the lama return to a man's strength. Among the\nterraces of the Doon he had leaned on the boy's shoulder, ready to\nprofit by wayside halts. Under the great ramp to Mussoorie he drew\nhimself together as an old hunter faces a well-remembered bank, and\nwhere he should have sunk exhausted swung his long draperies about him,\ndrew a deep double-lungful of the diamond air, and walked as only a\nhillman","'And if you\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\nto interfere.'\n\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\nwatched the lama's face.\n\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by","\n'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more.\nHe says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants to\nbe washed of his sins.'\n\nNeither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready.\n\nSaid Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you\nwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\nhere to find the Red Bull",",'\nsaid he.\n\n'It is this person who has suffered wrong,' said the lama, his hand\nover his brow.\n\n'For that very reason,' was the reply.\n\n'If this person overlooks it, your hands are clean. Moreover, ye\nacquire merit by obedience.'\n\n'Wait, and we will all go to Shamlegh together,' the man insisted.\n\nFor a moment, for just so long as it needs to stuff a cartridge into a\nbreech-loader, the lama hesitated. Then he","\nand seeing only the tall silent figure, chuckled in his deep chest.\n\n'Allah! A lama! A Red Lama! It is far from Lahore to the Passes.\nWhat dost thou do here?'\n\nThe lama held out the begging-bowl mechanically.\n\n'God's curse on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub. 'I do not give to a\nlousy Tibetan; but ask my Baltis over yonder behind the camels. They\nmay value your blessings. Oh","Bushahr and Chini valley. That is ascertained by process\nof elimination, and also by asking questions from people that I cure so\nwell. Our friends have been a long time playing about and producing\nimpressions. So they are well known from far off. You will see me\ncatch them somewhere in Chini valley. Please keep your eye on the\numbrella.'\n\nIt nodded like a wind-blown harebell down the valleys and round the\nmountain sides, and in due time the lama and Kim, who steered by\ncompass"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"the Lung-Cho Monastery--gave it me,' stammered the lama. 'He spoke\\nof these.' His lean hand moved tremulously round.\\n\\n'Welcome, then, O lama from Tibet. Here be the images, and I am\\nhere'--he glanced at the lama's face--'to gather knowledge. Come to my\\noffice awhile.' The old man was trembling with excitement.\\n\\nThe office was but a little wooden cubicle partitioned off from the\\nsculpture-lined gallery. Kim laid himself\",\n \"\\nThe lama held his peace. Except for the click of the rosary and a\\nfaint clop-clop of Mahbub's retreating feet, the soft, smoky silence of\\nevening in India wrapped them close.\\n\\n'Hear me! I bring news.'\\n\\n'But let us--'\\n\\nOut shot the long yellow hand compelling silence. Kim tucked his feet\\nunder his robe-edge obediently.\\n\\n'Hear me! I bring news! The Search is finished. Comes now the\\nR\",\n \"\\n\\n'But I see now that he was but sent for a purpose. By this I know that\\nI shall find a certain River for which I seek.'\\n\\n'The River of the Arrow?' said Kim, with a superior smile.\\n\\n'Is this yet another Sending?' cried the lama. 'To none have I spoken\\nof my search, save to the Priest of the Images. Who art thou?'\\n\\n'Thy chela,' said Kim simply, sitting on his heels. 'I have never seen\\nanyone like to thee in all this\",\n \"'And if you\\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\\nto interfere.'\\n\\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\\nwatched the lama's face.\\n\\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by\",\n \"acquired merit,' says the lama. 'Merit greater than your\\nknowing. And ye will return to the Hills,' he sighs.\\n\\n'Surely. The high Hills as soon as may be.' The bearer rubs his\\nshoulder, drinks water, spits it out again, and readjusts his grass\\nsandal. Kim--his face is drawn and tired--pays very small silver from\\nhis belt, heaves out the food-bag, crams an oilskin packet--they are\\nholy writings--into his bosom, and\",\n \"to a\\nlousy Tibetan; but ask my Baltis over yonder behind the camels. They\\nmay value your blessings. Oh, horseboys, here is a countryman of\\nyours. See if he be hungry.'\\n\\nA shaven, crouching Balti, who had come down with the horses, and who\\nwas nominally some sort of degraded Buddhist, fawned upon the priest,\\nand in thick gutturals besought the Holy One to sit at the horseboys'\\nfire.\\n\\n'Go!' said Kim, pushing him\",\n \"father would have done if\\nhe was drunk. We'd better invite the holy man. He may know something.'\\n\\n'He does not know anything,' said Kim. 'I will show you him if you\\ncome. He is my master. Then afterwards we can go.'\\n\\n'Powers of Darkness!' was all that Father Victor could say, as Bennett\\nmarched off, with a firm hand on Kim's shoulder.\\n\\nThey found the lama where he had dropped.\\n\\n'The Search is at an end for me,' shouted Kim in the ver\",\n \", there came one seeking\\nEnlightenment--a man from Leh--that had been, he said, a Hindu, but\\nwearied of all those Gods.' The lama pointed to the Arhats.\\n\\n'A fat man?' said Kim, a twinkle in his eye.\\n\\n'Very fat; but I perceived in a little his mind was wholly given up to\\nuseless things--such as devils and charms and the form and fashion of\\nour tea-drinkings in the monasteries, and by what road we initiated the\\nnovices. \",\n \"\\n'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more.\\nHe says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants to\\nbe washed of his sins.'\\n\\nNeither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready.\\n\\nSaid Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you\\nwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will\\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\\nhere to find the Red Bull\",\n \"will give him strength. Make a\\ncharm! Call on thy great God. Thou art a priest.' She turned away.\\n\\nThe lama had squatted limply, still holding by the door-post. One\\ncannot strike down an old man that he recovers again like a boy in the\\nnight. Weakness bowed him to the earth, but his eyes that hung on Kim\\nwere alive and imploring.\\n\\n'It is all well,' said Kim. 'It is the thin air that weakens thee. In\\na little while\",\n \"me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart\\nto see that lama?'\\n\\n'It is one part of my bond,' said Kim. 'If I do not see him, and if he\\nis taken from me, I will go out of that madrissah in Nucklao and,\\nand--once gone, who is to find me again?'\\n\\n'It is true. Never was colt held on a lighter heel-rope than thou.'\\nMahbub nodded his head.\\n\\n'Do not be afraid.' Kim spoke as though he\",\n \"s shoulder.\\n\\nThey found the lama where he had dropped.\\n\\n'The Search is at an end for me,' shouted Kim in the vernacular. 'I\\nhave found the Bull, but God knows what comes next. They will not hurt\\nyou. Come to the fat priest's tent with this thin man and see the end.\\nIt is all new, and they cannot talk Hindi. They are only uncurried\\ndonkeys.'\\n\\n'Then it is not well to make a jest of their ignorance,' the lama\\nreturned. 'I am\",\n \"and the money upon a paper and give it\\nhim.\\\" And he says you must write your name below, because he is going\\nto write a letter in some days to you. He says you are a good man. He\\nsays the other man is a fool. He is going away.'\\n\\nThe lama rose suddenly. 'I follow my Search,' he cried, and was gone.\\n\\n'He'll run slap into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as\\nthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim\",\n \"at his eyes--hollow and sunk--and the Betraying Line from the nose\\ndown! He has been sifted out! Fie! Fie! And a priest, too!'\\n\\nKim looked up, over-weary to smile, shaking his head in denial.\\n\\n'Do not jest,' said the lama. 'That time is done. We are here upon\\ngreat matters. A sickness of soul took me in the Hills, and him a\\nsickness of the body. Since then I have lived upon his\\n\",\n \"drawn.'\\n\\n'And his to thine, I hear. Hearts are like horses. They come and they\\ngo against bit or spur. Shout Gul Sher Khan yonder to drive in that\\nbay stallion's pickets more firmly. We do not want a horse-fight at\\nevery resting-stage, and the dun and the black will be locked in a\\nlittle ... Now hear me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart\\nto see that lama?'\\n\\n'It is one part of my bond,' said Kim\",\n \"at the lama's simple, eager face and doubt him long.\\n\\n'Seest thou my chela?' he said, diving into his snuff-gourd with an\\nimportant sniff. It was his duty to repay courtesy with courtesy.\\n\\n'I see--and hear.' The headman rolled his eye where Kim was chatting\\nto a girl in blue as she laid crackling thorns on a fire.\\n\\n'He also has a Search of his own. No river, but a Bull. Yea, a Red\\nBull on a green\",\n \"arances. But he spoke well of my chela, who now enters upon his\\nreward. Let me make the prayer! ... Wake, O fortunate above all born\\nof women. Wake! It is found!'\\n\\nKim came up from those deep wells, and the lama attended his yawning\\npleasure; duly snapping fingers to head off evil spirits.\\n\\n'I have slept a hundred years. Where--? Holy One, hast thou been here\\nlong? I went out to look for thee, but'--he\",\n \"because he was an old man, because he sought the\\nWay, because he was their guest, and because he collogued long of\\nnights with the head-priest--as free-thinking a metaphysician as ever\\nsplit one hair into seventy--they murmured assent.\\n\\n'Remember,'--Kim bent over the child--. 'this trouble may come again.'\\n\\n'Not if thou hast the proper spell,' said the father.\\n\\n'But in a little while we go away.'\\n\\n'True,' said the lama to all the Jains\",\n \"the lamplight made his face\\nred-gold.\\n\\nBennett looked at him with the triple-ringed uninterest of the creed\\nthat lumps nine-tenths of the world under the title of 'heathen'.\\n\\n'And what was the end of the Search? What gift has the Red Bull\\nbrought?' The lama addressed himself to Kim.\\n\\n'He says, \\\"What are you going to do?\\\"' Bennett was staring uneasily at\\nFather Victor, and Kim, for his own ends, took upon himself the office\\nof\",\n \"anxious to see more of that Red Bull.'\\n\\n'But how canst thou understand the talk? Walk slowly. The road is\\ndark,' the lama replied uneasily.\\n\\nKim put the question aside. 'I marked a place near to the trees,' said\\nhe, 'where thou canst sit till I call. Nay,' as the lama made some\\nsort of protest, 'remember this is my Search--the Search for my Red\\nBull. The sign in the Stars was not for thee. I know a little of the\\ncustoms\"\n ],\n [\n \"of\\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\\n\\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\\nimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would go\\nnorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor\\nwould arrange for him.\\n\\n'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thought\\nmore.\\n\\n'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\\nkeep you out of mischief. You\",\n \" Meantime, if the Sahibs were to be\\nimpressed, he would do his best to impress them. He too was a white\\nman.\\n\\nAfter much talk that he could not comprehend, they handed him over to a\\nsergeant, who had strict instructions not to let him escape. The\\nRegiment would go on to Umballa, and Kim would be sent up, partly at\\nthe expense of the Lodge and in part by subscription, to a place called\\nSanawar.\\n\\n'It's miraculous past all whooping, Colonel,'\",\n \"into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as\\nthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim made swift\\nmotion to follow, but checked himself. There was no sound of challenge\\noutside. The lama had disappeared.\\n\\nKim settled himself composedly on the Chaplain's cot. At least the\\nlama had promised that he would stay with the Raiput woman from Kulu,\\nand the rest was of the smallest importance. It pleased him that the\\ntwo padres were so evidently excited.\",\n \"\\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\\n\\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\\n\\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher\",\n \"odge and in part by subscription, to a place called\\nSanawar.\\n\\n'It's miraculous past all whooping, Colonel,' said Father Victor, when\\nhe had talked without a break for ten minutes. 'His Buddhist friend\\nhas levanted after taking my name and address. I can't quite make out\\nwhether he'll pay for the boy's education or whether he is preparing\\nsome sort of witchcraft on his own account.' Then to Kim: 'You'll live\\nto be grateful to your friend the Red Bull yet. We'll\",\n \"\\nwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away this\\nnight, for all I wanted to see the new things.'\\n\\nKim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating\\nthe replies to the lama.\\n\\nThen: 'He says, \\\"You take him from me and you cannot say what you will\\nmake him.\\\" He says, \\\"Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing\\nto make a child.\\\"'\\n\\n'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see\",\n \"the shadow. No one can see beyond the light of a fire,'\\nsaid Kim, his eyes still on the flag. He had never before watched the\\nroutine of a seasoned regiment pitching camp in thirty minutes.\\n\\n'Look! look! look!' clucked the lama. 'Yonder comes a priest.' It\\nwas Bennett, the Church of England Chaplain of the regiment, limping in\\ndusty black. One of his flock had made some rude remarks about the\\nChaplain's mettle; and to\",\n \"to Mahbub Ali, Kim would have been almost depressed. The\\nindifference of native crowds he was used to; but this strong\\nloneliness among white men preyed on him. He was grateful when, in the\\ncourse of the afternoon, a big soldier took him over to Father Victor,\\nwho lived in another wing across another dusty parade-ground. The\\npriest was reading an English letter written in purple ink. He looked\\nat Kim more curiously than ever.\\n\\n'An' how do you like it, my son, as far as you've gone\",\n \"ll see. You were goin' off today to the Military\\nOrphanage at Sanawar, where the Regiment would keep you till you were\\nold enough to enlist. Ye'd be brought up to the Church of England.\\nBennett arranged for that. On the other hand, if ye go to St Xavier's\\nye'll get a better education an--an can have the religion. D'ye see my\\ndilemma? Kim saw nothing save a vision of the lama going south in a\\ntrain with none to beg for him.\\n\\n'\",\n \"him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet and\\nswaddle him in these clothes. Then he will forget all he knows. Now,\\nwhich of the barracks is thine?'\\n\\nKim pointed--he could not speak--to Father Victor's wing, all staring\\nwhite near by.\\n\\n'Perhaps he will make a good soldier,' said Mahbub reflectively.\\n\\n'He will make a good orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a message\\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\\nstallion\",\n \"regiment.\\n\\n'There is the Padre!' Kim choked as bare-headed Father Victor sailed\\ndown upon them from the veranda.\\n\\n'Powers O' Darkness below, O'Hara! How many more mixed friends do you\\nkeep in Asia?' he cried, as Kim slid down and stood helplessly before\\nhim.\\n\\n'Good morning, Padre,' the Englishman said cheerily. 'I know you by\\nreputation well enough. Meant to have come over and called before\\nthis. I'm Creighton\",\n \"; I am\\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\\n\\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If\",\n \"and the money upon a paper and give it\\nhim.\\\" And he says you must write your name below, because he is going\\nto write a letter in some days to you. He says you are a good man. He\\nsays the other man is a fool. He is going away.'\\n\\nThe lama rose suddenly. 'I follow my Search,' he cried, and was gone.\\n\\n'He'll run slap into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as\\nthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim\",\n \"the Masonic Orphanage the better.'\\n\\n'Ah! That's your opinion as Secretary to the Regimental Lodge,' said\\nFather Victor; 'but we might as well tell the old man what we are going\\nto do. He doesn't look like a villain.'\\n\\n'My experience is that one can never fathom the Oriental mind. Now,\\nKimball, I wish you to tell this man what I say word for word.'\\n\\nKim gathered the import of the next few sentences and began thus:\\n\\n'Holy One, the\",\n \"scapular,' said he, opening his hand. 'No, some sort of heathen\\ncharm. Why--why, do you speak English? Little boys who steal are\\nbeaten. You know that?'\\n\\n'I do not--I did not steal.' Kim danced in agony like a terrier at a\\nlifted stick. 'Oh, give it me. It is my charm. Do not thieve it from\\nme.'\\n\\nThe Chaplain took no heed, but, going to the tent door, called aloud.\\n\",\n \"I'm fairly at my wits' end.'\\n\\n'He says he will give me three hundred rupees a year? So he will give\\nme them.'\\n\\n'Oh, that's the way you look at it, is it?'\\n\\n'Of course. If he says so!'\\n\\nThe priest whistled; then he addressed Kim as an equal. 'I don't\\nbelieve it; but we'll see. You were goin' off today to the Military\\nOrphanage at Sanawar, where the Regiment would keep you till you were\",\n \"um?' His Hindustani was very\\nlimited, and the ruffled and disgusted Kim intended to keep to the\\ncharacter laid down for him. As he recovered his breath he was\\ninventing a beautifully plausible tale of his relations to some\\nscullion, and at the same time keeping a keen eye on and a little under\\nthe Chaplain's left arm-pit. The chance came; he ducked for the\\ndoorway, but a long arm shot out and clutched at his neck, snapping the\\namulet-string and closing on the am\",\n \".\\\"'\\n\\nThe old man rose stiffly and saluted.\\n\\n'\\\"For\\\"'--Kim translated into the vernacular the clinching sentences he\\nhad heard in the dressing-room at Umballa--'\\\"For,\\\" says He, \\\"we should\\nhave done this long ago. It is not war--it is a chastisement. Snff!\\\"'\\n\\n'Enough. I believe. I have seen Him thus in the smoke of battles.\\nSeen and heard. It is He!'\\n\\n'I saw no smoke'--Kim'\",\n \"and tongue-tied.\\n\\n'My horse is well trained,' said the dealer. 'Others would have\\nkicked, Sahib.'\\n\\n'Ah,' said the Englishman at last, rubbing his pony's damp withers with\\nhis whip-butt. 'Who makes the boy a soldier?'\\n\\n'He says the Regiment that found him, and especially the Padre-sahib of\\nthat regiment.\\n\\n'There is the Padre!' Kim choked as bare-headed Father Victor sailed\\ndown upon them from the veranda\",\n \"road, hailed a\\npassing cart and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the\\nbrass betel-box in his hands.\\n\\nThe record of a boy's education interests few save his parents, and, as\\nyou know, Kim was an orphan. It is written in the books of St Xavier's\\nin Partibus that a report of Kim's progress was forwarded at the end of\\neach term to Colonel Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose hands\\nduly came the money for his schooling. \"\n ],\n [\n \"; I am\\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\\n\\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If\",\n \"you have passed all your\\nexaminations, and will soon obtain Government appointment. Oh ho! You\\nare on acting-allowance, you see: so if you are called upon to help\\nSons of the Charm mind you jolly-well try. Now I shall say good-bye, my\\ndear fellow, and I hope you--ah--will come out top-side all raight.'\\n\\nHurree Babu stepped back a pace or two into the crowd at the entrance\\nof Lucknow station and--was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and hugged\\n\",\n \"of\\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\\n\\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\\nimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would go\\nnorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor\\nwould arrange for him.\\n\\n'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thought\\nmore.\\n\\n'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\\nkeep you out of mischief. You\",\n \"\\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\\n\\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\\n\\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher\",\n \". So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\\nemployment.\\n\\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No\",\n \"better learning is given?' The lama\\ndisregarded Kim's plans for an early flight. 'It is no wrong to pay\\nfor learning. To help the ignorant to wisdom is always a merit.' The\\nrosary clicked furiously as an abacus. Then he faced his oppressors.\\n\\n'Ask them for how much money do they give a wise and suitable teaching?\\nAnd in what city is that teaching given?'\\n\\n'Well,' said Father Victor in English, when Kim had translated, 'that\\ndepends. The Regiment would pay for you\",\n \"him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet and\\nswaddle him in these clothes. Then he will forget all he knows. Now,\\nwhich of the barracks is thine?'\\n\\nKim pointed--he could not speak--to Father Victor's wing, all staring\\nwhite near by.\\n\\n'Perhaps he will make a good soldier,' said Mahbub reflectively.\\n\\n'He will make a good orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a message\\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\\nstallion\",\n \"a hand to show that the matter was finally settled in\\nhis mind.\\n\\n'Now,'--his tone altered as he turned to Kim,--'what will they do with\\nthee? At least I may, acquiring merit, wipe out past ill.'\\n\\n'Make me a Sahib--so they think. The day after tomorrow I return. Do\\nnot grieve.'\\n\\n'Of what sort? Such an one as this or that man?' He pointed to Father\\nVictor. 'Such an one as those I saw this evening, men wearing sw\",\n \"\\nwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away this\\nnight, for all I wanted to see the new things.'\\n\\nKim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating\\nthe replies to the lama.\\n\\nThen: 'He says, \\\"You take him from me and you cannot say what you will\\nmake him.\\\" He says, \\\"Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing\\nto make a child.\\\"'\\n\\n'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see\",\n \"ah I will go. At the madrissah I will learn. In the\\nmadrissah I will be a Sahib. But when the madrissah is shut, then must\\nI be free and go among my people. Otherwise I die!'\\n\\n'And who are thy people, Friend of all the World?'\\n\\n'This great and beautiful land,' said Kim, waving his paw round the\\nlittle clay-walled room where the oil-lamp in its niche burned heavily\\nthrough the tobacco-smoke. 'And, further,\",\n \"\\n\\n'But I see now that he was but sent for a purpose. By this I know that\\nI shall find a certain River for which I seek.'\\n\\n'The River of the Arrow?' said Kim, with a superior smile.\\n\\n'Is this yet another Sending?' cried the lama. 'To none have I spoken\\nof my search, save to the Priest of the Images. Who art thou?'\\n\\n'Thy chela,' said Kim simply, sitting on his heels. 'I have never seen\\nanyone like to thee in all this\",\n \"would have told his master.\\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\\ntheir way up from Quetta to the North. The Game is so large that one\\nsees but a little at a time.'\\n\\n'Oho!' said Kim, and held his tongue. That was in the monsoon\\nholidays, after he had taken the prize for mathematics. The Christmas\\nholidays he spent--deducting ten days for private amusements--with\\nLurgan Sahib, where he sat for the most part in front\",\n \"'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\\nkeep you out of mischief. You can go up with young De Castro as far as\\nDelhi.'\\n\\nKim considered it in every possible light. He had been diligent, even\\nas the Colonel advised. A boy's holiday was his own property--of so\\nmuch the talk of his companions had advised him,--and a barrack-school\\nwould be torment after St Xavier's. Moreover--this was magic worth\\nanything else\",\n \"meal at Kalka, he spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school?\\nThen he, an M A of Calcutta University, would explain the advantages of\\neducation. There were marks to be gained by due attention to Latin and\\nWordsworth's Excursion (all this was Greek to Kim). French, too was\\nvital, and the best was to be picked up in Chandernagore a few miles\\nfrom Calcutta. Also a man might go far, as he himself had done, by\\nstrict attention to plays called Lear and Julius\",\n \",\\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\\n\\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\\nevery time he\",\n \"gan's impassive face changed. He considered the years\\nto come when Kim would have been entered and made to the Great Game\\nthat never ceases day and night, throughout India. He foresaw honour\\nand credit in the mouths of a chosen few, coming to him from his pupil.\\nLurgan Sahib had made E.23 what E.23 was, out of a bewildered,\\nimpertinent, lying, little North-West Province man.\\n\\nBut the joy of these masters was pale and smoky beside the joy of Kim\\n\",\n \"craft on his own account.' Then to Kim: 'You'll live\\nto be grateful to your friend the Red Bull yet. We'll make a man of\\nyou at Sanawar--even at the price o' making you a Protestant.'\\n\\n'Certainly--most certainly,' said Bennett.\\n\\n'But you will not go to Sanawar,' said Kim.\\n\\n'But we will go to Sanawar, little man. That's the order of the\\nCommander-in-Chief, who's a trifle more important than O'\",\n \"a pensioner at Chunar, hinted very broadly that Colonel\\nCreighton's interest in Kim was directly paternal; and Kim, instead of\\nretaliating, did not even use language. He was thinking of the immense\\nfun to come, of Mahbub's letter of the day before, all neatly written\\nin English, making appointment for that afternoon in a house the very\\nname of which would have crisped the Principal's hair with horror...\\n\\nSaid Kim to Mahbub in Lucknow railway station that evening, above the\\nlug\",\n \"\\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\\n\\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\\n\\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\\ntale of the thief and the search?'\\n\\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l\",\n \"road, hailed a\\npassing cart and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the\\nbrass betel-box in his hands.\\n\\nThe record of a boy's education interests few save his parents, and, as\\nyou know, Kim was an orphan. It is written in the books of St Xavier's\\nin Partibus that a report of Kim's progress was forwarded at the end of\\neach term to Colonel Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose hands\\nduly came the money for his schooling. \"\n ],\n [\n \"informed by a kindly Northern Power that there was a leakage\\nof news from their territories into British India. So those Kings'\\nPrime Ministers were seriously annoyed and took steps, after the\\nOriental fashion. They suspected, among many others, the bullying,\\nred-bearded horsedealer whose caravans ploughed through their\\nfastnesses belly-deep in snow. At least, his caravan that season had\\nbeen ambushed and shot at twice on the way down, when Mahbub's men\\naccounted for three strange r\",\n \"7 and M4--quite true. It concerned all manner of out-of-the-way\\nmountain principalities, explorers of nationalities other than English,\\nand the guntrade--was, in brief, a small portion of that vast mass of\\n'information received' on which the Indian Government acts. But,\\nrecently, five confederated Kings, who had no business to confederate,\\nhad been informed by a kindly Northern Power that there was a leakage\\nof news from their territories into British India. So those Kings'\\nPrime\",\n \"an original,' said the taller of the two\\nforeigners. 'He is like the nightmare of a Viennese courier.'\\n\\n'He represents in little India in transition--the monstrous hybridism\\nof East and West,' the Russian replied. 'It is we who can deal with\\nOrientals.'\\n\\n'He has lost his own country and has not acquired any other. But he\\nhas a most complete hatred of his conquerors. Listen. He confided to\\nme last night,' said the other.\\n\\nUnder the striped umbrella Hur\",\n \"beastly throats.'\\n\\nWhen he presented himself again he was racked with a\\nheadache--penitent, and volubly afraid that in his drunkenness he might\\nhave been indiscreet. He loved the British Government--it was the\\nsource of all prosperity and honour, and his master at Rampur held the\\nvery same opinion. Upon this the men began to deride him and to quote\\npast words, till step by step, with deprecating smirks, oily grins, and\\nleers of infinite cunning, the poor Bab\",\n \"till the tears ran down his\\ncheeks for the miseries of his land. Then he staggered off, singing\\nlove-songs of Lower Bengal, and collapsed upon a wet tree-trunk. Never\\nwas so unfortunate a product of English rule in India more unhappily\\nthrust upon aliens.\\n\\n'They are all just of that pattern,' said one sportsman to the other in\\nFrench. 'When we get into India proper thou wilt see. I should like\\nto visit his Rajah. One might speak the good word there. It is\",\n \". Kim\\nsaw their heads bent over Mahbub Ali's message, and heard the\\nvoices--one low and deferential, the other sharp and decisive.\\n\\n'It isn't a question of weeks. It is a question of days--hours\\nalmost,' said the elder. 'I'd been expecting it for some time, but\\nthis'--he tapped Mahbub Ali's paper--'clinches it. Grogan's dining\\nhere to-night, isn't he?'\\n\\n'Yes, sir, and\",\n \"in his\\nbosom.\\n\\n'That soldier is a small fish,' Mahbub Ali explained, 'but in time we\\nshall catch the larger one. He only sells oxen at two prices--one for\\nhimself and one for the Government--which I do not think is a sin.'\\n\\n'Why could not I take away the little book and be done with it?'\\n\\n'Then he would have been frightened, and he would have told his master.\\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\\ntheir way up from Quetta to\",\n \",\\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\\n\\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\\nevery time he\",\n \"curious\\ndevelopments.\\n\\nAnd there was that on Mahbub Ali which he did not wish to keep an hour\\nlonger than was necessary--a wad of closely folded tissue-paper,\\nwrapped in oilskin--an impersonal, unaddressed statement, with five\\nmicroscopic pin-holes in one corner, that most scandalously betrayed\\nthe five confederated Kings, the sympathetic Northern Power, a Hindu\\nbanker in Peshawur, a firm of gun-makers in Belgium, and an important,\\nsemi-independent Mohammedan rul\",\n \"'And if you\\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\\nto interfere.'\\n\\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\\nwatched the lama's face.\\n\\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by\",\n \"\\nThe lama held his peace. Except for the click of the rosary and a\\nfaint clop-clop of Mahbub's retreating feet, the soft, smoky silence of\\nevening in India wrapped them close.\\n\\n'Hear me! I bring news.'\\n\\n'But let us--'\\n\\nOut shot the long yellow hand compelling silence. Kim tucked his feet\\nunder his robe-edge obediently.\\n\\n'Hear me! I bring news! The Search is finished. Comes now the\\nR\",\n \"in an auspicious\\nmoment, he removed a little vellum ledger which he copied out--it\\nseemed to deal entirely with cattle and camel sales--by moonlight,\\nlying behind an outhouse, all through one hot night. Then he returned\\nthe ledger to its place, and, at Mahbub's word, left that service\\nunpaid, rejoining him six miles down the road, the clean copy in his\\nbosom.\\n\\n'That soldier is a small fish,' Mahbub Ali explained, 'but in time we\\nshall catch the\",\n \"get into India proper thou wilt see. I should like\\nto visit his Rajah. One might speak the good word there. It is\\npossible that he has heard of us and wishes to signify his good-will.'\\n\\n'We have not time. We must get into Simla as soon as may be,' his\\ncompanion replied. 'For my own part, I wish our reports had been sent\\nback from Hilas, or even Leh.'\\n\\n'The English post is better and safer. Remember we are given all\\nfacilities--and Name of God\",\n \"\\n\\nHurree Babu reached for the pipe, and sucked it till it gurgled again.\\n\\n'Now I will speak vernacular. You sit tight, Mister O'Hara ... It\\nconcerns the pedigree of a white stallion.'\\n\\n'Still? That was finished long ago.'\\n\\n'When everyone is dead the Great Game is finished. Not before. Listen\\nto me till the end. There were Five Kings who prepared a sudden war\\nthree years ago, when thou wast given the stallion's pedig\",\n \"beastly English pride.\\nYou think no one dare conspire! That is all tommy-rott.'\\n\\nKim smoked slowly, revolving the business, so far as he understood it,\\nin his quick mind.\\n\\n'Then thou goest forth to follow the strangers?'\\n\\n'No. To meet them. They are coming in to Simla to send down their\\nhorns and heads to be dressed at Calcutta. They are exclusively\\nsporting gentlemen, and they are allowed special faceelities by the\\nGovernment. Of course,\",\n \"shall rise again and you\\nshall not know me. How much did you bet--eh?'\\n\\nHe chewed leisurely upon a few cardamom seeds, but he breathed uneasily.\\n\\n'But why come here, Babuji?'\\n\\n'Ah! Thatt is the question, as Shakespeare hath it. I come to\\ncongratulate you on your extraordinary effeecient performance at Delhi.\\nOah! I tell you we are all proud of you. It was verree neat and\\nhandy. Our mutual friend, he is\",\n \"and stuffed her\\nmouth with pan--'These be the sort to oversee justice. They know the\\nland and the customs of the land. The others, all new from Europe,\\nsuckled by white women and learning our tongues from books, are worse\\nthan the pestilence. They do harm to Kings.' Then she told a long,\\nlong tale to the world at large, of an ignorant young policeman who had\\ndisturbed some small Hill Rajah, a ninth cousin of her own, in the\\nmatter of a trivial land-case, winding up\",\n \"Hurree returned to his English with a jerk: \\\"'By Jove,\\\" I\\nsaid, \\\"why the dooce do you not issue demi-offeecial orders to some\\nbrave man to poison them, for an example? It is, if you permit the\\nobservation, most reprehensible laxity on your part.\\\" And Colonel\\nCreighton, he laughed at me! It is all your beastly English pride.\\nYou think no one dare conspire! That is all tommy-rott.'\\n\\nKim smoked slowly,\",\n \"not know where deuce-an'-all the papers were, and if so, how many. So\\nwhen I had come down here I slipped in private wire to Mahbub--he was\\nat Meerut for races--and I tell him how case stands. He comes up with\\nhis men and he consorts with the lama, and then he calls me a fool, and\\nis very rude--'\\n\\n'But wherefore--wherefore?'\\n\\n'That is what I ask. I only suggest that if anyone steals the papers I\\nshould like some good strong,\",\n \"from the Road. Then he goes to see the boy at the madrissah, as we\\nknow for the boy was punished for it twice or thrice. He is quite mad,\\nbut a peaceful man. I have met him. The Babu also has had dealings\\nwith him. We have watched him for three years. Red Lamas are not so\\ncommon in Hind that one loses track.'\\n\\n'Babus are very curious,' said Lurgan meditatively. 'Do you know what\\nHurree Babu really wants? He\"\n ],\n [\n \"things all the while. Therefore sit still for three days\\nand do not run away. Thou wilt go to school at Lucknow.'\\n\\n'Shall I meet my Holy One there?' Kim whimpered.\\n\\n'At least Lucknow is nearer to Benares than Umballa. It may be thou\\nwilt go under my protection. Mahbub Ali knows this, and he will be\\nangry if thou returnest to the Road now. Remember--much has been told\\nme which I do not forget.'\\n\\n'I will wait,'\",\n \"of\\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\\n\\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\\nimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would go\\nnorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor\\nwould arrange for him.\\n\\n'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thought\\nmore.\\n\\n'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\\nkeep you out of mischief. You\",\n \"centre of all idleness, intrigue, and luxury, and shares with Delhi the\\nclaim to talk the only pure Urdu.\\n\\n'A fair city--a beautiful city.' The driver, as a Lucknow man, was\\npleased with the compliment, and told Kim many astounding things where\\nan English guide would have talked of the Mutiny.\\n\\n'Now we will go to the school,' said Kim at last. The great old school\\nof St Xavier's in Partibus, block on block of low white buildings,\\nstands in vast grounds over against\",\n \"is made. In a little while thou goest to\\nNucklao, and--here is something to pay the letter-writer. I shall see\\nthee again, I think, many times,' and he cantered off down the road.\\n\\n'Listen to me,' said the Colonel from the veranda, speaking in the\\nvernacular. 'In three days thou wilt go with me to Lucknow, seeing and\\nhearing new things all the while. Therefore sit still for three days\\nand do not run away. Thou wilt go to school at Lucknow.'\\n\",\n \"three.\\n\\nNone the less he remembered to hold himself lowly. When tales were\\ntold of hot nights, Kim did not sweep the board with his reminiscences;\\nfor St Xavier's looks down on boys who 'go native all-together.' One\\nmust never forget that one is a Sahib, and that some day, when\\nexaminations are passed, one will command natives. Kim made a note of\\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\\n\\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\\nimposed by\",\n \"so much white arsenic when, if he had asked, I could have\\ngiven it--except my boy here I have not in a long time met with one\\nbetter worth teaching. And there are ten days more ere thou canst\\nreturn to Lucknao where they teach nothing--at the long price. We\\nshall, I think, be friends.'\\n\\nThey were a most mad ten days, but Kim enjoyed himself too much to\\nreflect on their craziness. In the morning they played the Jewel\\nGame--sometimes with veritable stones, sometimes with piles of\",\n \"of the long twenty-four hours' run south\\ndid the Colonel send for Kim, always developing this latter text.\\n\\n'We be all on one lead-rope, then,' said Kim at last, 'the Colonel,\\nMahbub Ali, and I--when I become a chain-man. He will use me as Mahbub\\nAli employed me, I think. That is good, if it allows me to return to\\nthe Road again. This clothing grows no easier by wear.'\\n\\nWhen they came to the crowded Lucknow station there was no sign of the\\nl\",\n \"a pensioner at Chunar, hinted very broadly that Colonel\\nCreighton's interest in Kim was directly paternal; and Kim, instead of\\nretaliating, did not even use language. He was thinking of the immense\\nfun to come, of Mahbub's letter of the day before, all neatly written\\nin English, making appointment for that afternoon in a house the very\\nname of which would have crisped the Principal's hair with horror...\\n\\nSaid Kim to Mahbub in Lucknow railway station that evening, above the\\nlug\",\n \"\\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\\n\\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\\n\\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher\",\n \"must\\nnot become proud and you must not talk. You must go back to Lucknow\\nand be a good little boy and mind your book, as the English say, and\\nperhaps, next holidays if you care, you can come back to me!' Kim's\\nface fell. 'Oh, I mean if you like. I know where you want to go.'\\n\\nFour days later a seat was booked for Kim and his small trunk at the\\nrear of a Kalka tonga. His companion was the whale-like Babu, who,\\nwith a\",\n \"meal at Kalka, he spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school?\\nThen he, an M A of Calcutta University, would explain the advantages of\\neducation. There were marks to be gained by due attention to Latin and\\nWordsworth's Excursion (all this was Greek to Kim). French, too was\\nvital, and the best was to be picked up in Chandernagore a few miles\\nfrom Calcutta. Also a man might go far, as he himself had done, by\\nstrict attention to plays called Lear and Julius\",\n \"'I knew a very long time ago.'\\n\\n'Who told?'\\n\\n'The Colonel Sahib himself. Not in those many words, but plainly\\nenough for one who is not altogether a mud-head. Yea, he told me in\\nthe te-rain when we went down to Lucknow.'\\n\\n'Be it so. Then I will tell thee more, Friend of all the World, though\\nin the telling I lend thee my head.'\\n\\n'It was forfeit to me,' said Kim, with deep relish, 'in U\",\n \"; I am\\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\\n\\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If\",\n \". So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\\nemployment.\\n\\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No\",\n \"ped the Principal's hair with horror...\\n\\nSaid Kim to Mahbub in Lucknow railway station that evening, above the\\nluggage-scales: 'I feared lest at the last, the roof would fall upon\\nme and cheat me. It is indeed all finished, O my father?'\\n\\nMahbub snapped his fingers to show the utterness of that end, and his\\neyes blazed like red coals.\\n\\n'Then where is the pistol that I may wear it?'\\n\\n'Softly! A half-year, to\",\n \"Xavier's in\\nPartibus at Lucknow.' This took some time to interpret, for Bennett\\nwished to cut it short.\\n\\n'He wants to know how much?' said Kim placidly.\\n\\n'Two or three hundred rupees a year.' Father Victor was long past any\\nsense of amazement. Bennett, impatient, did not understand.\\n\\n'He says: \\\"Write that name and the money upon a paper and give it\\nhim.\\\" And he says you must write your name below, because he is going\\nto write a letter\",\n \"him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet and\\nswaddle him in these clothes. Then he will forget all he knows. Now,\\nwhich of the barracks is thine?'\\n\\nKim pointed--he could not speak--to Father Victor's wing, all staring\\nwhite near by.\\n\\n'Perhaps he will make a good soldier,' said Mahbub reflectively.\\n\\n'He will make a good orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a message\\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\\nstallion\",\n \"World'--Kim started at the title.\\n'Would I had a few of the years that so irk thee. I have proved thee\\nin several small ways. This will not be forgotten when I make my\\nreport to the Colonel Sahib.' Then, changing suddenly into English\\nwith a deep laugh:\\n\\n'By Jove! O'Hara, I think there is a great deal in you; but you must\\nnot become proud and you must not talk. You must go back to Lucknow\\nand be a good little boy and mind your book, as\",\n \"\\nfever, and that he would pick up his master at Umballa. As the\\noccupants of the carriage changed, he varied this tale, or adorned it\\nwith all the shoots of a budding fancy, the more rampant for being held\\noff native speech so long. In all India that night was no human being\\nso joyful as Kim. At Umballa he got out and headed eastward, plashing\\nover the sodden fields to the village where the old soldier lived.\\n\\nAbout this time Colonel Creighton at Simla was advised from Lucknow\",\n \"as he scuttled into\\nthe carriage.\\n\\nIt took him nearly five minutes to recover. Then he sniffed the new\\nair appreciatively. 'A rich city,' he said. 'Richer than Lahore. How\\ngood the bazars must be! Coachman, drive me a little through the\\nbazars here.'\\n\\n'My order is to take thee to the school.' The driver used the 'thou',\\nwhich is rudeness when applied to a white man. In the clearest and\\nmost fluent vernacular Kim pointed\"\n ],\n [\n \"; I am\\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\\n\\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If\",\n \"later. Mahbub had\\ngone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim\\nmet him on the Kalka road at dusk riding alone, begged an alms of him,\\nwas sworn at, and replied in English. There was nobody within earshot\\nto hear Mahbub's gasp of amazement.\\n\\n'Oho! And where hast thou been?'\\n\\n'Up and down--down and up.'\\n\\n'Come under a tree, out of the wet, and tell.'\\n\\n'I stayed for\",\n \"and sat\\ndown on a patch of ruddy leopard's skin as Kim rose at the call for the\\nBenares train.\\n\\n'Go in hope, little brother,' he said. 'It is a long road to the feet\\nof the One; but thither do we all travel.'\\n\\nKim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he had sat out twenty\\nmiles in the crowded compartment, was cheering his neighbours with a\\nstring of most wonderful yarns about his own and his master's magical\\ngifts.\\n\\nBena\",\n \"\\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\\n\\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\\n\\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\\ntale of the thief and the search?'\\n\\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l\",\n \"of\\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\\n\\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\\nimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would go\\nnorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor\\nwould arrange for him.\\n\\n'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thought\\nmore.\\n\\n'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\\nkeep you out of mischief. You\",\n \"It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\\n\\n'Protector of the Poor!'\\n\\nThe man backed towards the voice.\\n\\n'Mahb\",\n \" Alas! It is a great and terrible\\nworld.'\\n\\nKim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried his\\nown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck.\\nMahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his\\nEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,\\nmade him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the\",\n \"would have told his master.\\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\\ntheir way up from Quetta to the North. The Game is so large that one\\nsees but a little at a time.'\\n\\n'Oho!' said Kim, and held his tongue. That was in the monsoon\\nholidays, after he had taken the prize for mathematics. The Christmas\\nholidays he spent--deducting ten days for private amusements--with\\nLurgan Sahib, where he sat for the most part in front\",\n \". So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\\nemployment.\\n\\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No\",\n \"gan's impassive face changed. He considered the years\\nto come when Kim would have been entered and made to the Great Game\\nthat never ceases day and night, throughout India. He foresaw honour\\nand credit in the mouths of a chosen few, coming to him from his pupil.\\nLurgan Sahib had made E.23 what E.23 was, out of a bewildered,\\nimpertinent, lying, little North-West Province man.\\n\\nBut the joy of these masters was pale and smoky beside the joy of Kim\\n\",\n \"ah I will go. At the madrissah I will learn. In the\\nmadrissah I will be a Sahib. But when the madrissah is shut, then must\\nI be free and go among my people. Otherwise I die!'\\n\\n'And who are thy people, Friend of all the World?'\\n\\n'This great and beautiful land,' said Kim, waving his paw round the\\nlittle clay-walled room where the oil-lamp in its niche burned heavily\\nthrough the tobacco-smoke. 'And, further,\",\n \"beating.'\\n\\n'Allah! What is a beating when the very head is loose on the\\nshoulders?'\\n\\nKim slid out quietly into the night, walked half round the house,\\nkeeping close to the walls, and headed away from the station for a mile\\nor so. Then, fetching a wide compass, he worked back at leisure, for\\nhe needed time to invent a story if any of Mahbub's retainers asked\\nquestions.\\n\\nThey were camped on a piece of waste ground beside the railway, and,\\nbeing natives, had not,\",\n \"as he had\\nreached the broad road under Simla Town Hall, he cast about for one to\\nimpress. A Hindu child, some ten years old, squatted under a lamp-post.\\n\\n'Where is Mr Lurgan's house?' demanded Kim.\\n\\n'I do not understand English,' was the answer, and Kim shifted his\\nspeech accordingly.\\n\\n'I will show.'\\n\\nTogether they set off through the mysterious dusk, full of the noises\\nof a city below the hillside, and the breath of a cool wind in\\ndeodar\",\n \"?' The Englishman switched at the rose-hedge in\\nthe side of the drive.\\n\\n'Mahbub Ali has given me this proof.' Kim flipped the wad of folded\\npaper into the air, and it fell in the path beside the man, who put his\\nfoot on it as a gardener came round the corner. When the servant passed\\nhe picked it up, dropped a rupee--Kim could hear the clink--and strode\\ninto the house, never turning round. Swiftly Kim took up the money;\\nbut for all his training,\",\n \"a pensioner at Chunar, hinted very broadly that Colonel\\nCreighton's interest in Kim was directly paternal; and Kim, instead of\\nretaliating, did not even use language. He was thinking of the immense\\nfun to come, of Mahbub's letter of the day before, all neatly written\\nin English, making appointment for that afternoon in a house the very\\nname of which would have crisped the Principal's hair with horror...\\n\\nSaid Kim to Mahbub in Lucknow railway station that evening, above the\\nlug\",\n \"meal at Kalka, he spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school?\\nThen he, an M A of Calcutta University, would explain the advantages of\\neducation. There were marks to be gained by due attention to Latin and\\nWordsworth's Excursion (all this was Greek to Kim). French, too was\\nvital, and the best was to be picked up in Chandernagore a few miles\\nfrom Calcutta. Also a man might go far, as he himself had done, by\\nstrict attention to plays called Lear and Julius\",\n \"the lama between excited men and excited beasts, sidled\\nalong the cloisters to the far end, nearest therailway station, where\\nMahbub Ali, the horse-trader, lived when he came in from that\\nmysterious land beyond the Passes of the North.\\n\\nKim had had many dealings with Mahbub in his little life, especially\\nbetween his tenth and his thirteenth year--and the big burly Afghan,\\nhis beard dyed scarlet with lime (for he was elderly and did not wish\\nhis grey hairs to\",\n \"revealed in a breath, but at evening\\nencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of,\\nthe doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee\\ncows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes across\\nthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks\\napart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, as\\nbudding physician, must accompany him.\\n\\n'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not\",\n \"their husbands.\\n\\n'It is the train--only the te-rain. It will not come here. Wait!'\\nAmazed at the lama's immense simplicity (he had handed him a small bag\\nfull of rupees), Kim asked and paid for a ticket to Umballa. A sleepy\\nclerk grunted and flung out a ticket to the next station, just six\\nmiles distant.\\n\\n'Nay,' said Kim, scanning it with a grin. 'This may serve for farmers,\\nbut I live in the city of Lahore\",\n \", who had loved him\\nwithout reason, now loved him for fifty good reasons. So they enjoyed\\nthemselves in high felicity, abstaining, as the Rule demands, from evil\\nwords, covetous desires; not over-eating, not lying on high beds, nor\\nwearing rich clothes. Their stomachs told them the time, and the\\npeople brought them their food, as the saying is. They were lords of\\nthe villages of Aminabad, Sahaigunge, Akrola of the Ford, and little\\nPhulesa, where Kim gave\"\n ],\n [\n \"ain of Wisdom. We know He drew the\\nbow! We know the arrow fell! We know the stream gushed! Where, then,\\nis the River? My dream told me to find it. So I came. I am here. But\\nwhere is the River?'\\n\\n'If I knew, think you I would not cry it aloud?'\\n\\n'By it one attains freedom from the Wheel of Things,' the lama went on,\\nunheeding. 'The River of the Arrow! Think again! Some little stream,\\n\",\n \"Things,' the lama went on,\\nunheeding. 'The River of the Arrow! Think again! Some little stream,\\nmaybe--dried in the heats? But the Holy One would never so cheat an\\nold man.'\\n\\n'I do not know. I do not know.'\\n\\nThe lama brought his thousand-wrinkled face once more a handsbreadth\\nfrom the Englishman's. 'I see thou dost not know. Not being of the\\nLaw, the matter is hid from thee.'\\n\\n'Ay\",\n \"so leaped out, so drew away, so fumed up the Soul of\\nTeshoo Lama from the Great Soul. Then a voice cried: \\\"The River! Take\\nheed to the River!\\\" and I looked down upon all the world, which was as\\nI had seen it before--one in time, one in place--and I saw plainly the\\nRiver of the Arrow at my feet. At that hour my Soul was hampered by\\nsome evil or other whereof I was not wholly cleansed, and it lay upon\\nmy arms and coiled\",\n \"idly\\nacross country.\\n\\nThe lama strode after him. All that day, whenever they passed a\\nstream, he had turned aside to look at it, but in no case had he\\nreceived any warning that he had found his River. Insensibly, too, the\\ncomfort of speaking to someone in a reasonable tongue, and of being\\nproperly considered and respected as her spiritual adviser by a\\nwell-born woman, had weaned his thoughts a little from the Search. And\\nfurther, he was prepared to spend serene years in his quest; having\",\n \"\\n\\n'But I see now that he was but sent for a purpose. By this I know that\\nI shall find a certain River for which I seek.'\\n\\n'The River of the Arrow?' said Kim, with a superior smile.\\n\\n'Is this yet another Sending?' cried the lama. 'To none have I spoken\\nof my search, save to the Priest of the Images. Who art thou?'\\n\\n'Thy chela,' said Kim simply, sitting on his heels. 'I have never seen\\nanyone like to thee in all this\",\n \"'And if you\\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\\nto interfere.'\\n\\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\\nwatched the lama's face.\\n\\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by\",\n \"as I\\nunderstand, for many days' journey to the southward.'\\n\\n'And?'\\n\\n'Patience a little. To this I said that my Search came before all\\nthings. She had heard many foolish legends, but this great truth of my\\nRiver she had never heard. Such are the priests of the lower hills!\\nShe knew the Abbot of Lung-Cho, but she did not know of my River--nor\\nthe tale of the Arrow.'\\n\\n'And?'\\n\\n'I spoke therefore of the Search, and of the Way,\",\n \"last it fell; and, where it touched earth, there broke\\nout a stream which presently became a River, whose nature, by our\\nLord's beneficence, and that merit He acquired ere He freed himself, is\\nthat whoso bathes in it washes away all taint and speckle of sin.'\\n\\n'So it is written,' said the Curator sadly.\\n\\nThe lama drew a long breath. 'Where is that River? Fountain of\\nWisdom, where fell the arrow?'\\n\\n'Alas, my brother, I do\",\n \"he did not say this very loud.\\n\\nThe lama sighed and shrank into himself, a dingy, shapeless mass. In\\nthe pauses of their talk they could hear the low droning 'Om mane pudme\\nhum! Om mane pudme hum!'--and the thick click of the wooden rosary\\nbeads.\\n\\n'It irks me,' he said at last. 'The speed and the clatter irk me.\\nMoreover, my chela, I think that maybe we have over-passed that River.'\\n\\n'\",\n \"\\n'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more.\\nHe says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants to\\nbe washed of his sins.'\\n\\nNeither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready.\\n\\nSaid Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you\\nwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will\\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\\nhere to find the Red Bull\",\n \"\\n'We go to Benares,' said the lama, as soon as he understood the drift\\nof Mahbub Ali's questions. 'The boy and I, I go to seek for a certain\\nRiver.'\\n\\n'Maybe--but the boy?'\\n\\n'He is my disciple. He was sent, I think, to guide me to that River.\\nSitting under a gun was I when he came suddenly. Such things have\\nbefallen the fortunate to whom guidance was allowed. But I remember\\nnow, he said he was of this world--a Hindu.'\",\n \"\\n'I was meditating in that body, and did not hear. So thus the Search\\nis ended. For the merit that I have acquired, the River of the Arrow\\nis here. It broke forth at our feet, as I have said. I have found it.\\nSon of my Soul, I have wrenched my Soul back from the Threshold of\\nFreedom to free thee from all sin--as I am free, and sinless! Just is\\nthe Wheel! Certain is our deliverance! Come!'\\n\\nHe crossed his hands on his\",\n \". Yes, he had followed\\nthe traces of the Blessed Feet throughout all India. (The Curator has\\nstill in his possession a most marvellous account of his wanderings and\\nmeditations.) There remained nothing more in life but to find the River\\nof the Arrow. Yet it was shown to him in dreams that it was a matter\\nnot to be undertaken with any hope of success unless that seeker had\\nwith him the one chela appointed to bring the event to a happy issue,\\nand versed in great wisdom--such wisdom as white-haired\",\n \"ib\\nof the Wonder House talked to him--yes, this is truth as a brother. He\\nis a very holy man, from far beyond the Hills. Rest, thou. In time we\\ncome to Umballa.'\\n\\n'But my River--the River of my healing?'\\n\\n'And then, if it please thee, we will go hunting for that River on\\nfoot. So that we miss nothing--not even a little rivulet in a\\nfield-side.'\\n\\n'But thou hast a Search of thine own?' The lama--very pleased that he\",\n \"'I have considered that also,' the lama replied, in a shaking voice.\\n'It is manifest that from time to time I shall acquire merit if before\\nthat I have not found my River--by assuring myself that thy feet are\\nset on wisdom. What they will teach thee I do not know, but the priest\\nwrote me that no son of a Sahib in all India will be better taught than\\nthou. So from time to time, therefore, I will come again. Maybe thou\\nwilt be such a Sahib as he who gave me these spect\",\n \"to Benares also. It crosses all streams on this side of Hind.\\nNow my word to thee, Holy One, is rest here till tomorrow. Then take\\nthe road' (it was the Grand Trunk Road he meant) 'and test each stream\\nthat it overpasses; for, as I understand, the virtue of thy River lies\\nneither in one pool nor place, but throughout its length. Then, if thy\\nGods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom.'\\n\\n'That is well said.' The lama was much impressed by the\",\n \"day rose behind Kim for a barrier to cut him off\\nfrom his race and his mother-tongue. He slipped back to thinking and\\ndreaming in the vernacular, and mechanically followed the lama's\\nceremonial observances at eating, drinking, and the like. The old\\nman's mind turned more and more to his monastery as his eyes turned to\\nthe steadfast snows. His River troubled him nothing. Now and again,\\nindeed, he would gaze long and long at a tuft or a twig, expecting, he\\n\",\n \"'But whither goest thou?'\\n\\n'First to Kashi [Benares]: where else? There I shall meet one of the\\npure faith in a Jain temple of that city. He also is a Seeker in\\nsecret, and from him haply I may learn. Maybe he will go with me to\\nBuddh Gaya. Thence north and west to Kapilavastu, and there will I\\nseek for the River. Nay, I will seek everywhere as I go--for the place\\nis not known where the arrow fell\",\n \"may be. I follow the places of His life till I come to the\\nRiver of the Arrow. There is, moreover, a written paper of the hours\\nof the trains that go south.'\\n\\n'And for food?' Lamas, as a rule, have good store of money somewhere\\nabout them, but the Curator wished to make sure.\\n\\n'For the journey, I take up the Master's begging-bowl. Yes. Even as\\nHe went so go I, forsaking the ease of my monastery. There was with me\\n\",\n \"Soul was hampered by\\nsome evil or other whereof I was not wholly cleansed, and it lay upon\\nmy arms and coiled round my waist; but I put it aside, and I cast forth\\nas an eagle in my flight for the very place of the River. I pushed\\naside world upon world for thy sake. I saw the River below me--the\\nRiver of the Arrow--and, descending, the waters of it closed over me;\\nand behold I was again in the body of Teshoo Lama, but free from sin,\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"the key's grate in the lock, the sticky pull\\nof the slow-rending oilskin, and a quick shuffling of papers. He had\\nbeen annoyed out of all reason by the knowledge that they lay below him\\nthrough the sick idle days--a burden incommunicable. For that reason\\nthe blood tingled through his body, when Hurree, skipping\\nelephantinely, shook hands again.\\n\\n'This is fine! This is finest! Mister O'Hara! you have--ha! ha!\\nswiped\",\n \"from the Road. Then he goes to see the boy at the madrissah, as we\\nknow for the boy was punished for it twice or thrice. He is quite mad,\\nbut a peaceful man. I have met him. The Babu also has had dealings\\nwith him. We have watched him for three years. Red Lamas are not so\\ncommon in Hind that one loses track.'\\n\\n'Babus are very curious,' said Lurgan meditatively. 'Do you know what\\nHurree Babu really wants? He\",\n \"rouched lower. The war was\\nbreaking out afresh. 'Have you no consideration for our loss? The\\nbaggage! The baggage!' He could hear the speaker literally dancing on\\nthe grass. 'Everything we bore! Everything we have secured! Our\\ngains! Eight months' work! Do you know what that means? \\\"Decidedly\\nit is we who can deal with Orientals!\\\" Oh, you have done well.'\\n\\nThey fell to it in several tongues, and Hurree smiled. Kim was with\\n\",\n \"\\n\\nHurree Babu reached for the pipe, and sucked it till it gurgled again.\\n\\n'Now I will speak vernacular. You sit tight, Mister O'Hara ... It\\nconcerns the pedigree of a white stallion.'\\n\\n'Still? That was finished long ago.'\\n\\n'When everyone is dead the Great Game is finished. Not before. Listen\\nto me till the end. There were Five Kings who prepared a sudden war\\nthree years ago, when thou wast given the stallion's pedig\",\n \"s head against a\\nboulder.\\n\\n'Go back to the coolies,' whispered the Babu in his ear. 'They have\\nthe baggage. The papers are in the kilta with the red top, but look\\nthrough all. Take their papers, and specially the murasla [King's\\nletter]. Go! The other man comes!'\\n\\nKim tore uphill. A revolver-bullet rang on a rock by his side, and he\\ncowered partridge-wise.\\n\\n'If you shoot,' shouted Hurree\",\n \"an original,' said the taller of the two\\nforeigners. 'He is like the nightmare of a Viennese courier.'\\n\\n'He represents in little India in transition--the monstrous hybridism\\nof East and West,' the Russian replied. 'It is we who can deal with\\nOrientals.'\\n\\n'He has lost his own country and has not acquired any other. But he\\nhas a most complete hatred of his conquerors. Listen. He confided to\\nme last night,' said the other.\\n\\nUnder the striped umbrella Hur\",\n \"his conquerors. Listen. He confided to\\nme last night,' said the other.\\n\\nUnder the striped umbrella Hurree Babu was straining ear and brain to\\nfollow the quick-poured French, and keeping both eyes on a kilta full\\nof maps and documents--an extra-large one with a double red oil-skin\\ncover. He did not wish to steal anything. He only desired to know\\nwhat to steal, and, incidentally, how to get away when he had stolen\\nit. He thanked all the Gods of Hindust\",\n \"had been thinking of Hurree's last words. As a player\\nof the Great Game, he was disposed just then to reverence the Babu.\\n'It is a kilta with a red top full of very wonderful things, not to be\\nhandled by fools.'\\n\\n'I said it; I said it,' cried the bearer of that burden. 'Thinkest\\nthou it will betray us?'\\n\\n'Not if it be given to me. I can draw out its magic. Otherwise it\\nwill do great harm.'\\n\\n'A priest always takes\",\n \"rientals!\\\" Oh, you have done well.'\\n\\nThey fell to it in several tongues, and Hurree smiled. Kim was with\\nthe kiltas, and in the kiltas lay eight months of good diplomacy. There\\nwas no means of communicating with the boy, but he could be trusted.\\nFor the rest, Hurree could so stage-manage the journey through the\\nhills that Hilas, Bunar, and four hundred miles of hill-roads should\\ntell the tale for a generation. Men who cannot control their own\\ncoolies are little\",\n \"two strangers with the levels and the compasses make\\nthe Five Kings to believe that a great army will sweep the Passes\\ntomorrow or the next day--Hill-people are all fools--comes the order to\\nme, Hurree Babu, \\\"Go North and see what those strangers do.\\\" I say to\\nCreighton Sahib, \\\"This is not a lawsuit, that we go about to collect\\nevidence.\\\"' Hurree returned to his English with a jerk: \\\"'By Jove,\\\" I\\nsaid, \\\"why the dooce do you not issue dem\",\n \"murasla.' He sniffed the embroidered bag. 'That must\\nbe from Hilas or Bunar, and Hurree Babu spoke truth. By Jove! It is a\\nfine haul. I wish Hurree could know ... The rest must go out of the\\nwindow.' He fingered a superb prismatic compass and the shiny top of a\\ntheodolite. But after all, a Sahib cannot very well steal, and the\\nthings might be inconvenient evidence later. He sorted out every scrap\\nof manuscript,\",\n \"\\nworth a grain of dust in the eye. Thus do foolish women drag us from\\nthe Way!'\\n\\nHurree Babu came out from behind the dovecote washing his teeth with\\nostentatious ritual. Full-fleshed, heavy-haunched, bull-necked, and\\ndeep-voiced, he did not look like 'a fearful man'. Kim signed almost\\nimperceptibly that matters were in good train, and when the morning\\ntoilet was over, Hurree Babu, in flowery speech, came to do honour to\\nthe l\",\n \"Hurree returned to his English with a jerk: \\\"'By Jove,\\\" I\\nsaid, \\\"why the dooce do you not issue demi-offeecial orders to some\\nbrave man to poison them, for an example? It is, if you permit the\\nobservation, most reprehensible laxity on your part.\\\" And Colonel\\nCreighton, he laughed at me! It is all your beastly English pride.\\nYou think no one dare conspire! That is all tommy-rott.'\\n\\nKim smoked slowly,\",\n \"ib's point of view.\\n\\n'The books I do not want. Besides, they are logarithms--Survey, I\\nsuppose.' He laid them aside. 'The letters I do not understand, but\\nColonel Creighton will. They must all be kept. The maps--they draw\\nbetter maps than me--of course. All the native letters--oho!--and\\nparticularly the murasla.' He sniffed the embroidered bag. 'That must\\nbe from Hilas or Bunar, and Hurree Bab\",\n \"you have passed all your\\nexaminations, and will soon obtain Government appointment. Oh ho! You\\nare on acting-allowance, you see: so if you are called upon to help\\nSons of the Charm mind you jolly-well try. Now I shall say good-bye, my\\ndear fellow, and I hope you--ah--will come out top-side all raight.'\\n\\nHurree Babu stepped back a pace or two into the crowd at the entrance\\nof Lucknow station and--was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and hugged\\n\",\n \"the jungle of peaks. 'This is not my country,\\nhakim. Easier, I think, to find one louse in a bear-skin.'\\n\\n'Oah, thatt is my strong points. There is no hurry for Hurree. They\\nwere at Leh not so long ago. They said they had come down from the\\nKarakorum with their heads and horns and all. I am onlee afraid they\\nwill have sent back all their letters and compromising things from Leh\\ninto Russian territoree. Of course\",\n \"given full right of way. Hurree was no game-shot--the snick\\nof a trigger made him change colour--but, as he himself would have\\nsaid, he was 'fairly effeecient stalker', and he had raked the huge\\nvalley with a pair of cheap binoculars to some purpose. Moreover, the\\nwhite of worn canvas tents against green carries far. Hurree Babu had\\nseen all he wanted to see when he sat on the threshing-floor of\\nZiglaur, twenty miles away as the eagle flies\",\n \"and four hundred miles of hill-roads should\\ntell the tale for a generation. Men who cannot control their own\\ncoolies are little respected in the Hills, and the hillman has a very\\nkeen sense of humour.\\n\\n'If I had done it myself,' thought Hurree, 'it would not have been\\nbetter; and, by Jove, now I think of it, of course I arranged it\\nmyself. How quick I have been! Just when I ran downhill I thought it!\\nThee outrage was accidental, but onlee me could\",\n \"will note my action.'\\n\\nKim yawned and stretched himself. It was good to turn and twist within\\nloose clothes once again.\\n\\n'What is this?' He looked curiously at the heavy duffle-stuff loaded\\nwith the scents of the far North.\\n\\n'Oho! That is inconspicuous dress of chela attached to service of\\nlamaistic lama. Complete in every particular,' said Hurree Babu,\\nrolling into the balcony to clean his teeth at a goglet. 'I am of\\nopeenion\",\n \"ut.'\\n\\n'Huh!' said Kim, recognizing Hurree Babu, who smiled ingratiatingly.\\n\\n'And also I had honour to bring down from Lurgan your present costume.\\nI am not in the habit offeecially of carrying such gauds to\\nsubordinates, but'--he giggled--'your case is noted as exceptional on\\nthe books. I hope Mr Lurgan will note my action.'\\n\\nKim yawned and stretched himself. It was good to turn and twist within\\nloose clothes once again.\"\n ],\n [\n \"idly\\nacross country.\\n\\nThe lama strode after him. All that day, whenever they passed a\\nstream, he had turned aside to look at it, but in no case had he\\nreceived any warning that he had found his River. Insensibly, too, the\\ncomfort of speaking to someone in a reasonable tongue, and of being\\nproperly considered and respected as her spiritual adviser by a\\nwell-born woman, had weaned his thoughts a little from the Search. And\\nfurther, he was prepared to spend serene years in his quest; having\",\n \"ain of Wisdom. We know He drew the\\nbow! We know the arrow fell! We know the stream gushed! Where, then,\\nis the River? My dream told me to find it. So I came. I am here. But\\nwhere is the River?'\\n\\n'If I knew, think you I would not cry it aloud?'\\n\\n'By it one attains freedom from the Wheel of Things,' the lama went on,\\nunheeding. 'The River of the Arrow! Think again! Some little stream,\\n\",\n \"\\n'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more.\\nHe says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants to\\nbe washed of his sins.'\\n\\nNeither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready.\\n\\nSaid Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you\\nwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will\\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\\nhere to find the Red Bull\",\n \"know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing.\\nVillages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, for\\nnot only has the lama given them blessings, but his disciple good\\nmoney--full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve miles a day has the dooli\\ntravelled, as the greasy, rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few\\nSahibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dust\\nfilled every fold of the imp\",\n \"'And if you\\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\\nto interfere.'\\n\\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\\nwatched the lama's face.\\n\\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by\",\n \"ib\\nof the Wonder House talked to him--yes, this is truth as a brother. He\\nis a very holy man, from far beyond the Hills. Rest, thou. In time we\\ncome to Umballa.'\\n\\n'But my River--the River of my healing?'\\n\\n'And then, if it please thee, we will go hunting for that River on\\nfoot. So that we miss nothing--not even a little rivulet in a\\nfield-side.'\\n\\n'But thou hast a Search of thine own?' The lama--very pleased that he\",\n \"Things,' the lama went on,\\nunheeding. 'The River of the Arrow! Think again! Some little stream,\\nmaybe--dried in the heats? But the Holy One would never so cheat an\\nold man.'\\n\\n'I do not know. I do not know.'\\n\\nThe lama brought his thousand-wrinkled face once more a handsbreadth\\nfrom the Englishman's. 'I see thou dost not know. Not being of the\\nLaw, the matter is hid from thee.'\\n\\n'Ay\",\n \"\\n\\n'But I see now that he was but sent for a purpose. By this I know that\\nI shall find a certain River for which I seek.'\\n\\n'The River of the Arrow?' said Kim, with a superior smile.\\n\\n'Is this yet another Sending?' cried the lama. 'To none have I spoken\\nof my search, save to the Priest of the Images. Who art thou?'\\n\\n'Thy chela,' said Kim simply, sitting on his heels. 'I have never seen\\nanyone like to thee in all this\",\n \"to Benares also. It crosses all streams on this side of Hind.\\nNow my word to thee, Holy One, is rest here till tomorrow. Then take\\nthe road' (it was the Grand Trunk Road he meant) 'and test each stream\\nthat it overpasses; for, as I understand, the virtue of thy River lies\\nneither in one pool nor place, but throughout its length. Then, if thy\\nGods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom.'\\n\\n'That is well said.' The lama was much impressed by the\",\n \"he did not say this very loud.\\n\\nThe lama sighed and shrank into himself, a dingy, shapeless mass. In\\nthe pauses of their talk they could hear the low droning 'Om mane pudme\\nhum! Om mane pudme hum!'--and the thick click of the wooden rosary\\nbeads.\\n\\n'It irks me,' he said at last. 'The speed and the clatter irk me.\\nMoreover, my chela, I think that maybe we have over-passed that River.'\\n\\n'\",\n \"river from\\nwhich the Babu dragged thee?'\\n\\n'I was dragged from no river,' said the lama simply. 'Thou hast\\nforgotten what befell. I found it by Knowledge.'\\n\\n'Oh, ay. True,' stammered Mahbub, divided between high indignation and\\nenormous mirth. 'I had forgotten the exact run of what happened. Thou\\ndidst find it knowingly.'\\n\\n'And to say that I would take life is--not a sin, but a madness simple.\\nMy chela\",\n \"'I have considered that also,' the lama replied, in a shaking voice.\\n'It is manifest that from time to time I shall acquire merit if before\\nthat I have not found my River--by assuring myself that thy feet are\\nset on wisdom. What they will teach thee I do not know, but the priest\\nwrote me that no son of a Sahib in all India will be better taught than\\nthou. So from time to time, therefore, I will come again. Maybe thou\\nwilt be such a Sahib as he who gave me these spect\",\n \"among the fields,\\nand considered the hoof-pitted bank.\\n\\n'Now, how wilt thou know thy River?' said Kim, squatting in the shade\\nof some tall sugar-cane.\\n\\n'When I find it, an enlightenment will surely be given. This, I feel,\\nis not the place. O littlest among the waters, if only thou couldst\\ntell me where runs my River! But be thou blessed to make the fields\\nbear!'\\n\\n'Look! Look!' Kim sprang to his side and dragged him\",\n \"day rose behind Kim for a barrier to cut him off\\nfrom his race and his mother-tongue. He slipped back to thinking and\\ndreaming in the vernacular, and mechanically followed the lama's\\nceremonial observances at eating, drinking, and the like. The old\\nman's mind turned more and more to his monastery as his eyes turned to\\nthe steadfast snows. His River troubled him nothing. Now and again,\\nindeed, he would gaze long and long at a tuft or a twig, expecting, he\\n\",\n \"\\n'We go to Benares,' said the lama, as soon as he understood the drift\\nof Mahbub Ali's questions. 'The boy and I, I go to seek for a certain\\nRiver.'\\n\\n'Maybe--but the boy?'\\n\\n'He is my disciple. He was sent, I think, to guide me to that River.\\nSitting under a gun was I when he came suddenly. Such things have\\nbefallen the fortunate to whom guidance was allowed. But I remember\\nnow, he said he was of this world--a Hindu.'\",\n \"of the crows. Even the pony felt\\nthe good influence and almost broke into a trot as Kim laid a hand on\\nthe stirrup-leather.\\n\\n'It repents me that I did not give a rupee to the shrine,' said the\\nlama on the last bead of his eighty-one.\\n\\nThe old soldier growled in his beard, so that the lama for the first\\ntime was aware of him.\\n\\n'Seekest thou the River also?' said he, turning.\\n\\n'The day is new,' was the reply\",\n \" To those who follow the\\nWay there is neither black nor white, Hind nor Bhotiyal. We be all\\nsouls seeking escape. No matter what thy wisdom learned among Sahibs,\\nwhen we come to my River thou wilt be freed from all illusion--at my\\nside. Hai! My bones ache for that River, as they ached in the\\nte-rain; but my spirit sits above my bones, waiting. The Search is\\nsure!'\\n\\n'I am answered. Is it permitted to ask a question?'\\n\\nThe lama\",\n \"last it fell; and, where it touched earth, there broke\\nout a stream which presently became a River, whose nature, by our\\nLord's beneficence, and that merit He acquired ere He freed himself, is\\nthat whoso bathes in it washes away all taint and speckle of sin.'\\n\\n'So it is written,' said the Curator sadly.\\n\\nThe lama drew a long breath. 'Where is that River? Fountain of\\nWisdom, where fell the arrow?'\\n\\n'Alas, my brother, I do\",\n \"\\n'I was meditating in that body, and did not hear. So thus the Search\\nis ended. For the merit that I have acquired, the River of the Arrow\\nis here. It broke forth at our feet, as I have said. I have found it.\\nSon of my Soul, I have wrenched my Soul back from the Threshold of\\nFreedom to free thee from all sin--as I am free, and sinless! Just is\\nthe Wheel! Certain is our deliverance! Come!'\\n\\nHe crossed his hands on his\",\n \" There is neither high nor low in the Middle Way.\\nIf he is my chela--does--will--can anyone take him from me? for, look\\nyou, without him I shall not find my River.' He wagged his head\\nsolemnly.\\n\\n'None shall take him from thee. Go, sit among my Baltis,' said Mahbub\\nAli, and the lama drifted off, soothed by the promise.\\n\\n'Is he not quite mad?' said Kim, coming forward to the light again.\\n'Why should I lie\"\n ],\n [\n \"and died as poor whites die in India. His estate\\nat death consisted of three papers--one he called his 'ne varietur'\\nbecause those words were written below his signature thereon, and\\nanother his 'clearance-certificate'. The third was Kim's\\nbirth-certificate. Those things, he was used to say, in his glorious\\nopium-hours, would yet make little Kimball a man. On no account was\\nKim to part with them, for they belonged to a great piece of\\nmagic--such magic as men pract\",\n \"a corner. The breezes\\nfanned over him, the parrots shrieked at him, the noises of the\\npopulated house behind--squabbles, orders, and reproofs--hit on dead\\nears.\\n\\n'I am Kim. I am Kim. And what is Kim?' His soul repeated it again\\nand again.\\n\\nHe did not want to cry--had never felt less like crying in his\\nlife--but of a sudden easy, stupid tears trickled down his nose, and\\nwith an almost audible click he felt the wheels of\",\n \"Kneaded to irresponsible pulp, half hypnotized\\nby the perpetual flick and readjustment of the uneasy chudders that\\nveiled their eyes, Kim slid ten thousand miles into slumber--thirty-six\\nhours of it--sleep that soaked like rain after drought.\\n\\nThen she fed him, and the house spun to her clamour. She caused fowls\\nto be slain; she sent for vegetables, and the sober, slow-thinking\\ngardener, nigh as old as she, sweated for it; she took\",\n \"is dead in Lahore city since I was very little. The\\nwoman, she kept kabarri shop near where the hire-carriages are.' Kim\\nbegan with a plunge, not quite sure how far the truth would serve him.\\n\\n'Your mother?'\\n\\n'No!'--with a gesture of disgust. 'She went out when I was born. My\\nfather, he got these papers from the Jadoo-Gher what do you call that?'\\n(Bennett nodded) 'because he was in good-standing. What do you call\\nthat?'\",\n \"mother, that he was the prop of the lama's declining\\nyears, and that the lama would die without his care. All the carriage\\nbade the guard be merciful--the banker was specially eloquent here--but\\nthe guard hauled Kim on to the platform. The lama blinked--he could\\nnot overtake the situation and Kim lifted up his voice and wept outside\\nthe carriage window.\\n\\n'I am very poor. My father is dead--my mother is dead. O charitable\\nones, if I am left here, who\",\n \"though he spoke the\\nvernacular by preference, and his mother-tongue in a clipped uncertain\\nsing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the\\nsmall boys of the bazar; Kim was white--a poor white of the very\\npoorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him (she smoked opium,\\nand pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the square where\\nthe cheap cabs wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother's\\nsister; but his mother had been nursemaid in\",\n \"at his eyes--hollow and sunk--and the Betraying Line from the nose\\ndown! He has been sifted out! Fie! Fie! And a priest, too!'\\n\\nKim looked up, over-weary to smile, shaking his head in denial.\\n\\n'Do not jest,' said the lama. 'That time is done. We are here upon\\ngreat matters. A sickness of soul took me in the Hills, and him a\\nsickness of the body. Since then I have lived upon his\\n\",\n \". Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached\\nthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white\\nmen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim\\ndid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful\\nwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was\\nhand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al\\nRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian\\nNights\",\n \"Ever since I was a little baby.'\\n\\nFather Victor stepped forward quickly and opened the front of Kim's\\nupper garment. 'You see, Bennett, he's not very black. What's your\\nname?'\\n\\n'Kim.'\\n\\n'Or Kimball?'\\n\\n'Perhaps. Will you let me go away?'\\n\\n'What else?'\\n\\n'They call me Kim Rishti ke. That is Kim of the Rishti.'\\n\\n'What is that--\\\"Rishti\\\"?'\\n\\n'Eye-ris\",\n \". That is Kim of the Rishti.'\\n\\n'What is that--\\\"Rishti\\\"?'\\n\\n'Eye-rishti--that was the Regiment--my father's.'\\n\\n'Irish--oh, I see.'\\n\\n'Yess. That was how my father told me. My father, he has lived.'\\n\\n'Has lived where?'\\n\\n'Has lived. Of course he is dead--gone-out.'\\n\\n'Oh! That's your abrupt way of putting it, is it?'\\n\\nBennett interrupted\",\n \"\\n\\nKim laughed. 'He is new. Run to your mothers' laps, and be safe.\\nCome!'\\n\\nKim clicked round the self-registering turnstile; the old man followed\\nand halted amazed. In the entrance-hall stood the larger figures of\\nthe Greco-Buddhist sculptures done, savants know how long since, by\\nforgotten workmen whose hands were feeling, and not unskilfully, for\\nthe mysteriously transmitted Grecian touch. There were hundreds of\\npieces, friezes of figures\",\n \" Kim's mother had been Irish, too.\\n\\nThe old man halted by Zam-Zammah and looked round till his eye fell on\\nKim. The inspiration of his pilgrimage had left him for awhile, and he\\nfelt old, forlorn, and very empty.\\n\\n'Do not sit under that gun,' said the policeman loftily.\\n\\n'Huh! Owl!' was Kim's retort on the lama's behalf. 'Sit under that\\ngun if it please thee. When didst\",\n \"revealed in a breath, but at evening\\nencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of,\\nthe doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee\\ncows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes across\\nthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks\\napart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, as\\nbudding physician, must accompany him.\\n\\n'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not\",\n \"road, hailed a\\npassing cart and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the\\nbrass betel-box in his hands.\\n\\nThe record of a boy's education interests few save his parents, and, as\\nyou know, Kim was an orphan. It is written in the books of St Xavier's\\nin Partibus that a report of Kim's progress was forwarded at the end of\\neach term to Colonel Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose hands\\nduly came the money for his schooling. \",\n \"because he was an old man, because he sought the\\nWay, because he was their guest, and because he collogued long of\\nnights with the head-priest--as free-thinking a metaphysician as ever\\nsplit one hair into seventy--they murmured assent.\\n\\n'Remember,'--Kim bent over the child--. 'this trouble may come again.'\\n\\n'Not if thou hast the proper spell,' said the father.\\n\\n'But in a little while we go away.'\\n\\n'True,' said the lama to all the Jains\",\n \"evening time--her son-in-law was returned, so she did not need to go\\non inspection round the farm--she won to the meat of the matter,\\nexplained low-voicedly by the lama. The two old heads nodded wisely\\ntogether. Kim had reeled to a room with a cot in it, and was dozing\\nsoddenly. The lama had forbidden him to set blankets or get food.\\n\\n'I know--I know. Who but I?' she cackled. 'We who go down to the\\nburn\",\n \"There was no sign of Kim or the lama.\\n\\n'Up!' He stirred a sleeper. 'Whither went those who lay here last\\neven--the lama and the boy? Is aught missing?'\\n\\n'Nay,' grunted the man, 'the old madman rose at second cockcrow saying\\nhe would go to Benares, and the young one led him away.'\\n\\n'The curse of Allah on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub heartily, and\\nclimbed into his own stall, growling in his\",\n \"tangled ruins that he seemed to have stumbled upon two years\\nago. He spoke of those places as a scholar removed from vanity, as a\\nSeeker walking in humility, as an old man, wise and temperate,\\nillumining knowledge with brilliant insight. Bit by bit,\\ndisconnectedly, each tale called up by some wayside thing, he spoke of\\nall his wanderings up and down Hind; till Kim, who had loved him\\nwithout reason, now loved him for fifty good reasons. So they enjoyed\\nthemselves in high felicity, ab\",\n \"the bazars which were in bounds.\\nHe styled all natives 'niggers'; yet servants and sweepers called him\\nabominable names to his face, and, misled by their deferential\\nattitude, he never understood. This somewhat consoled Kim for the\\nbeatings.\\n\\nOn the morning of the fourth day a judgement overtook that drummer.\\nThey had gone out together towards Umballa racecourse. He returned\\nalone, weeping, with news that young O'Hara, to whom he had been doing\\nnothing in particular, had\",\n \"he said, and sat with the reins\\nround his wrist. The lama's voice faltered, the periods lengthened.\\nKim was busy watching a grey squirrel. When the little scolding bunch\\nof fur, close pressed to the branch, disappeared, preacher and audience\\nwere fast asleep, the old officer's strong-cut head pillowed on his\\narm, the lama's thrown back against the tree-bole, where it showed like\\nyellow ivory. A naked child toddled up, stared, and, moved by some\\nquick\"\n ],\n [\n \"though he spoke the\\nvernacular by preference, and his mother-tongue in a clipped uncertain\\nsing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the\\nsmall boys of the bazar; Kim was white--a poor white of the very\\npoorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him (she smoked opium,\\nand pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the square where\\nthe cheap cabs wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother's\\nsister; but his mother had been nursemaid in\",\n \"; I am\\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\\n\\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If\",\n \"street boy, and Kim stored it in a\\nsecret place under some baulks in Nila Ram's timber-yard, beyond the\\nPunjab High Court, where the fragrant deodar logs lie seasoning after\\nthey have driven down the Ravi. When there was business or frolic\\nafoot, Kim would use his properties, returning at dawn to the veranda,\\nall tired out from shouting at the heels of a marriage procession, or\\nyelling at a Hindu festival. Sometimes there was food in the house,\\nmore often there was not, and then Kim\",\n \"a corner. The breezes\\nfanned over him, the parrots shrieked at him, the noises of the\\npopulated house behind--squabbles, orders, and reproofs--hit on dead\\nears.\\n\\n'I am Kim. I am Kim. And what is Kim?' His soul repeated it again\\nand again.\\n\\nHe did not want to cry--had never felt less like crying in his\\nlife--but of a sudden easy, stupid tears trickled down his nose, and\\nwith an almost audible click he felt the wheels of\",\n \"road, hailed a\\npassing cart and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the\\nbrass betel-box in his hands.\\n\\nThe record of a boy's education interests few save his parents, and, as\\nyou know, Kim was an orphan. It is written in the books of St Xavier's\\nin Partibus that a report of Kim's progress was forwarded at the end of\\neach term to Colonel Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose hands\\nduly came the money for his schooling. \",\n \". So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\\nemployment.\\n\\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No\",\n \"mother, that he was the prop of the lama's declining\\nyears, and that the lama would die without his care. All the carriage\\nbade the guard be merciful--the banker was specially eloquent here--but\\nthe guard hauled Kim on to the platform. The lama blinked--he could\\nnot overtake the situation and Kim lifted up his voice and wept outside\\nthe carriage window.\\n\\n'I am very poor. My father is dead--my mother is dead. O charitable\\nones, if I am left here, who\",\n \"It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\\n\\n'Protector of the Poor!'\\n\\nThe man backed towards the voice.\\n\\n'Mahb\",\n \"later. Mahbub had\\ngone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim\\nmet him on the Kalka road at dusk riding alone, begged an alms of him,\\nwas sworn at, and replied in English. There was nobody within earshot\\nto hear Mahbub's gasp of amazement.\\n\\n'Oho! And where hast thou been?'\\n\\n'Up and down--down and up.'\\n\\n'Come under a tree, out of the wet, and tell.'\\n\\n'I stayed for\",\n \"and died as poor whites die in India. His estate\\nat death consisted of three papers--one he called his 'ne varietur'\\nbecause those words were written below his signature thereon, and\\nanother his 'clearance-certificate'. The third was Kim's\\nbirth-certificate. Those things, he was used to say, in his glorious\\nopium-hours, would yet make little Kimball a man. On no account was\\nKim to part with them, for they belonged to a great piece of\\nmagic--such magic as men pract\",\n \". Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached\\nthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white\\nmen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim\\ndid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful\\nwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was\\nhand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al\\nRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian\\nNights\",\n \"as he had\\nreached the broad road under Simla Town Hall, he cast about for one to\\nimpress. A Hindu child, some ten years old, squatted under a lamp-post.\\n\\n'Where is Mr Lurgan's house?' demanded Kim.\\n\\n'I do not understand English,' was the answer, and Kim shifted his\\nspeech accordingly.\\n\\n'I will show.'\\n\\nTogether they set off through the mysterious dusk, full of the noises\\nof a city below the hillside, and the breath of a cool wind in\\ndeodar\",\n \" Alas! It is a great and terrible\\nworld.'\\n\\nKim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried his\\nown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck.\\nMahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his\\nEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,\\nmade him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the\",\n \"I'm fairly at my wits' end.'\\n\\n'He says he will give me three hundred rupees a year? So he will give\\nme them.'\\n\\n'Oh, that's the way you look at it, is it?'\\n\\n'Of course. If he says so!'\\n\\nThe priest whistled; then he addressed Kim as an equal. 'I don't\\nbelieve it; but we'll see. You were goin' off today to the Military\\nOrphanage at Sanawar, where the Regiment would keep you till you were\",\n \"\\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\\n\\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\\n\\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\\ntale of the thief and the search?'\\n\\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l\",\n \"and sat\\ndown on a patch of ruddy leopard's skin as Kim rose at the call for the\\nBenares train.\\n\\n'Go in hope, little brother,' he said. 'It is a long road to the feet\\nof the One; but thither do we all travel.'\\n\\nKim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he had sat out twenty\\nmiles in the crowded compartment, was cheering his neighbours with a\\nstring of most wonderful yarns about his own and his master's magical\\ngifts.\\n\\nBena\",\n \"he\\nwill die.'\\n\\n'By what I saw of him he's as well able to take care of himself as you.\\nNo. Ye've brought us luck, an' we're goin' to make a man of you. I'll\\ntake ye back to your baggage-cart and ye'll come to me this evening.'\\n\\nFor the rest of the day Kim found himself an object of distinguished\\nconsideration among a few hundred white men. The story of his\\nappearance in camp, the discovery of his parentage, and his prophecy,\",\n \"and Kim lay out behind the\\nlittle knot of Mahbub's followers, almost under the wheels of a\\nhorse-truck, a borrowed blanket for covering. Now a bed among\\nbrickbats and ballast-refuse on a damp night, between overcrowded\\nhorses and unwashed Baltis, would not appeal to many white boys; but\\nKim was utterly happy. Change of scene, service, and surroundings were\\nthe breath of his little nostrils, and thinking of the neat white cots\\nof St Xavier's all a\",\n \"up and asked if Kim would accept his\\nhospitality for the night. The priest recommended him to do so, but\\ninsisted that the honour of entertaining the lama belonged to the\\ntemple--at which the lama smiled guilelessly. Kim glanced from one\\nface to the other, and drew his own conclusions.\\n\\n'Where is the money?' he whispered, beckoning the old man off into the\\ndarkness.\\n\\n'In my bosom. Where else?'\\n\\n'Give it me. Quietly and swiftly give it me.'\\n\",\n \"revealed in a breath, but at evening\\nencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of,\\nthe doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee\\ncows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes across\\nthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks\\napart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, as\\nbudding physician, must accompany him.\\n\\n'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not\"\n ],\n [\n \"Then Mahbub Ali rolled across the serai to the Gate of the Harpies who\\npaint their eyes and trap the stranger, and was at some pains to call\\non the one girl who, he had reason to believe, was a particular friend\\nof a smooth-faced Kashmiri pundit who had waylaid his simple Balti in\\nthe matter of the telegrams. It was an utterly foolish thing to do;\\nbecause they fell to drinking perfumed brandy against the Law of the\\nProphet, and Mahbub grew wonderfully drunk, and the gates of\",\n \" Mahbub gave the money.\\n\\n'Rememberest thou the little business of the thieves in the dark, down\\nyonder at Umballa?'\\n\\n'Seeing they sought my life, I have not altogether forgotten. Why?'\\n\\n'Rememberest thou the Kashmir Serai?'\\n\\n'I will twist thy ears in a moment--Sahib.'\\n\\n'No need--Pathan. Only, the second fakir, whom the Sahibs beat\\nsenseless, was the man who came to search thy bulkhead at Lah\",\n \"'What talk is this of us, Sahib?' Mahbub Ali returned, in the tone he\\nused towards Europeans. 'I am a Pathan; thou art a Sahib and the son\\nof a Sahib. Lurgan Sahib has a shop among the European shops. All\\nSimla knows it. Ask there ... and, Friend of all the World, he is one\\nto be obeyed to the last wink of his eyelashes. Men say he does magic,\\nbut that should not touch thee. Go up the hill\",\n \"remembered the conversation in the train, and\\noften in the past few months had caught himself thinking of the queer,\\nsilent, self-possessed boy. His evasion, of course, was the height of\\ninsolence, but it argued some resource and nerve.\\n\\nMahbub's eyes twinkled as he reined out into the centre of the cramped\\nlittle plain, where none could come near unseen.\\n\\n'\\\"The Friend of the Stars, who is the Friend of all the World--\\\"'\\n\\n'What is this?'\\n\\n'A name\",\n \"Mahbub's palm on his heart.\\n\\n'Hi! Mahbub, you old villain, pull up!' cried a voice, and an\\nEnglishman raced alongside on a little polo-pony. 'I've been chasing\\nyou half over the country. That Kabuli of yours can go. For sale, I\\nsuppose?'\\n\\n'I have some young stuff coming on made by Heaven for the delicate and\\ndifficult polo-game. He has no equal. He--'\\n\\n'Plays polo and wait\",\n \"have outmanoeuvred an\\nenemy, but as Mahbub Ali cleared his throat, tightened his belt, and\\nstaggered forth under the early morning stars, he came very near to it.\\n\\n'What a colt's trick!' said he to himself. 'As if every girl in\\nPeshawur did not use it! But 'twas prettily done. Now God He knows\\nhow many more there be upon the Road who have orders to test\\nme--perhaps with the knife. So it stands that the boy must go to\\n\",\n \"from\\nher lap. 'I earn my money. Farrukh Shah is a bear, Ali Beg a\\nswashbuckler, and old Sikandar Khan--yaie! Go! I sleep now. This\\nswine will not stir till dawn.'\\n\\nWhen Mahbub woke, the Flower talked to him severely on the sin of\\ndrunkenness. Asiatics do not wink when they have outmanoeuvred an\\nenemy, but as Mahbub Ali cleared his throat, tightened his belt, and\\nstaggered forth\",\n \"full search into his saddlebags and between the soles of his\\nslippers. Is that news to tell to the Colonel, or would he say to\\nme--(I have not forgotten when he sent me back for a cigar-case that he\\nhad not left behind him)--\\\"What is Mahbub Ali to me?\\\"?'\\n\\nUp went a gout of heavy smoke. There was a long pause: then Mahbub\\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahib\",\n \" But as regards Lutuf Ullah--a tall man\\nwith a broken nose, and a Persian greyhound Aie!'\\n\\nThe boy had hurried off to wake up a young and enthusiastic policeman;\\nfor, as he said, the Railway had suffered much from depredations in the\\ngoods-yard. Mahbub Ali chuckled in his dyed beard.\\n\\n'They will walk in their boots, making a noise, and then they will\\nwonder why there are no fakirs. They are very clever boys--Barton\\nSahib\",\n \" They send me to a school and beat me.\\nI do not like the air and water here. Come then and help me, Mahbub\\nAli, or send me some money, for I have not sufficient to pay the writer\\nwho writes this.'\\n\\n'\\\"Who writes this.\\\" It is my own fault that I was tricked. Thou art\\nas clever as Husain Bux that forged the Treasury stamps at Nucklao.\\nBut what a tale! What a tale! Is it true by any chance?'\\n\\n'It does not profit to tell lies\",\n \",\\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\\n\\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\\nevery time he\",\n \"as the people do whom he watches, he may be slain. Why\\nhinder him now? Remember how the Persians say: The jackal that lives\\nin the wilds of Mazanderan can only be caught by the hounds of\\nMazanderan.'\\n\\n'True. It is true, Mahbub Ali. And if he comes to no harm, I do not\\ndesire anything better. But it is great insolence on his part.'\\n\\n'He does not tell me, even, whither he goes,' said Mahbub. 'He\",\n \"Friend of all the World,' said Mahbub, pushing over the pipe for the\\nboy to clean, 'I have met many men, women, and boys, and not a few\\nSahibs. I have never in all my days met such an imp as thou art.'\\n\\n'And why? When I always tell thee the truth.'\\n\\n'Perhaps the very reason, for this is a world of danger to honest men.'\\nMahbub Ali hauled himself off the ground, girt in his belt, and went\\nover to the horses.\\n\\n'Or sell\",\n \"Mahbub Ali's sake. Meantime, there was the present, and not at\\nall unpleasant, fact of St Xavier's immediately before him. There\\nwould be new boys to condescend to, and there would be tales of holiday\\nadventures to hear. Young Martin, son of the tea-planter at Manipur,\\nhad boasted that he would go to war, with a rifle, against the\\nhead-hunters.\\n\\nThat might be, but it was certain young Martin had not been blown half\\nacross the forecourt of\",\n \"written.'\\n\\n'Mahbub Ali is in Umballa,' said the writer jauntily. He was, by\\nvirtue of his office, a bureau of general misinformation.\\n\\n'This is not to Mahbub, but to a priest. Take thy pen and write\\nquickly. To Teshoo Lama, the Holy One from Bhotiyal seeking for a\\nRiver, who is now in the Temple of the Tirthankars at Benares. Take\\nmore ink! In three days I am to go down to Nucklao to\",\n \"Mahbub Ali raised his voice.\\n\\n'Allah! Art thou the only beggar in the city? Thy mother is dead. Thy\\nfather is dead. So is it with all of them. Well, well--'\\n\\nHe turned as feeling on the floor beside him and tossed a flap of soft,\\ngreasy Mussalman bread to the boy. 'Go and lie down among my horseboys\\nfor tonight--thou and the lama. Tomorrow I may give thee service.'\\n\\nKim slunk away, his teeth in\",\n \"Sahib, always a Sahib. When thou art a man--who knows?--thou wilt be\\ngrateful to Mahbub Ali.'\\n\\n'Take me beyond their sentries where I can change this red. Give me\\nmoney and I will go to Benares and be with my lama again. I do not\\nwant to be a Sahib, and remember I did deliver that message.'\\n\\nThe stallion bounded wildly. Mahbub Ali had incautiously driven home\\nthe sharp-edged stirrup. (He was\",\n \" Besides, the boy wasn't going away. You\\ndon't know old Mahbub Ali.' The horse-dealer sat impassive in the\\nsunlight. 'You will when you have been in the station a month. He\\nsells us all our crocks. That boy is rather a curiosity. Can you tell\\nme anything about him?'\\n\\n'Can I tell you?' puffed Father Victor. 'You'll be the one man that\\ncould help me in my quandaries. Tell you! Powers o' Darkness,\",\n \"and turned\\npolitely to Father Victor.\\n\\n'What are the letters that the fat priest is waving before the Colonel?\\nStand behind the stallion as though looking at my bridle!' said Mahbub\\nAli.\\n\\n'A letter from my lama which he wrote from Jagadhir Road, saying that\\nhe will pay three hundred rupees by the year for my schooling.'\\n\\n'Oho! Is old Red Hat of that sort? At which school?'\\n\\n'God knows. I think in Nucklao.'\\n\\n'Yes. There\",\n \"in his\\nbosom.\\n\\n'That soldier is a small fish,' Mahbub Ali explained, 'but in time we\\nshall catch the larger one. He only sells oxen at two prices--one for\\nhimself and one for the Government--which I do not think is a sin.'\\n\\n'Why could not I take away the little book and be done with it?'\\n\\n'Then he would have been frightened, and he would have told his master.\\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\\ntheir way up from Quetta to\"\n ],\n [\n \"it is time to go again to Nucklao.'\\n\\n'I had sooner lodge with thee, Mahbub.'\\n\\n'Thou dost not know the honour. Lurgan Sahib himself asked for thee.\\nThou wilt go up the hill and along the road atop, and there thou must\\nforget for a while that thou hast ever seen or spoken to me, Mahbub\\nAli, who sells horses to Creighton Sahib, whom thou dost not know.\\nRemember this order.'\\n\\nKim nodded. '\",\n \"said the young officer promptly. 'Everything waits\\nwhile a horse is concerned.'\\n\\n'We shan't be more than twenty minutes,' said Kim's man. 'You can do\\nthe honours--keep 'em amused, and all that.'\\n\\n'Tell one of the troopers to wait,' said the tall man, and they both\\npassed into the dressing-room together as the landau rolled away. Kim\\nsaw their heads bent over Mahbub Ali's message, and heard the\\nvoices--one low and deferential,\",\n \"\\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\\n\\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\\n\\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\\ntale of the thief and the search?'\\n\\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l\",\n \"least. I sent him to deliver a message\\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\\nstallion.'\\n\\nHere was deadly insult on deadlier injury--and the Sahib to whom he had\\nso craftily given that war-waking letter heard it all. Kim beheld\\nMahbub Ali frying in flame for his treachery, but for himself he saw\\none long grey vista of barracks, schools, and barracks again. He gazed\\nimploringly at the clear-cut face in which there was\",\n \"othed by the promise.\\n\\n'Is he not quite mad?' said Kim, coming forward to the light again.\\n'Why should I lie to thee, Hajji?'\\n\\nMahbub puffed his hookah in silence. Then he began, almost whispering:\\n'Umballa is on the road to Benares--if indeed ye two go there.'\\n\\n'Tck! Tck! I tell thee he does not know how to lie--as we two know.'\\n\\n'And if thou wilt carry a message for me as far as\",\n \",\\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\\n\\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\\nevery time he\",\n \"\\nMahbub hired a room over against the railway station, sent for a cooked\\nmeal of the finest with the almond-curd sweet-meats [balushai we call\\nit] and fine-chopped Lucknow tobacco.\\n\\n'This is better than some other meat that I ate with the Sikh,' said\\nKim, grinning as he squatted, 'and assuredly they give no such victuals\\nat my madrissah.'\\n\\n'I have a desire to hear of that same madrissah.' Mahbub stuffed\\nhimself with\",\n \"evening, and\\nMahbub would listen without a word or gesture. It was intrigue of some\\nkind, Kim knew; but its worth lay in saying nothing whatever to anyone\\nexcept Mahbub, who gave him beautiful meals all hot from the cookshop\\nat the head of the serai, and once as much as eight annas in money.\\n\\n'He is here,' said Kim, hitting a bad-tempered camel on the nose. 'Ohe.\\nMahbub Ali!' He halted at a dark arch and slipped behind the\\nbewildered lama\",\n \"later. Mahbub had\\ngone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim\\nmet him on the Kalka road at dusk riding alone, begged an alms of him,\\nwas sworn at, and replied in English. There was nobody within earshot\\nto hear Mahbub's gasp of amazement.\\n\\n'Oho! And where hast thou been?'\\n\\n'Up and down--down and up.'\\n\\n'Come under a tree, out of the wet, and tell.'\\n\\n'I stayed for\",\n \"alows are open through and through--the Englishman\\nreturn to a small dressing-room, in a comer of the veranda, that was\\nhalf office, littered with papers and despatch-boxes, and sit down to\\nstudy Mahbub Ali's message. His face, by the full ray of the kerosene\\nlamp, changed and darkened, and Kim, used as every beggar must be to\\nwatching countenances, took good note.\\n\\n'Will! Will, dear!' called a woman's voice. 'You ought to be\",\n \"\\nhere.'\\n\\n'And this is known to me also,' said Kim, readjusting the live\\ncharcoal-ball on the weed. 'It is a very sure tie between us. Indeed,\\nthy hold is surer even than mine; for who would miss a boy beaten to\\ndeath, or, it may be, thrown into a well by the roadside? Most people\\nhere and in Simla and across the passes behind the Hills would, on the\\nother hand, say: \\\"What has come to Mahbub Ali?\\\" if he were found dead\\namong his horses\",\n \"to Mahbub Ali, Kim would have been almost depressed. The\\nindifference of native crowds he was used to; but this strong\\nloneliness among white men preyed on him. He was grateful when, in the\\ncourse of the afternoon, a big soldier took him over to Father Victor,\\nwho lived in another wing across another dusty parade-ground. The\\npriest was reading an English letter written in purple ink. He looked\\nat Kim more curiously than ever.\\n\\n'An' how do you like it, my son, as far as you've gone\",\n \"Christie.\\n\\n\\nIn the afternoon the red-faced schoolmaster told Kim that he had been\\n'struck off the strength', which conveyed no meaning to him till he was\\nordered to go away and play. Then he ran to the bazar, and found the\\nyoung letter-writer to whom he owed a stamp.\\n\\n'Now I pay,' said Kim royally, 'and now I need another letter to be\\nwritten.'\\n\\n'Mahbub Ali is in Umballa,' said the writer jauntily. He was, by\\nvirtue of\",\n \"Mahbub Ali raised his voice.\\n\\n'Allah! Art thou the only beggar in the city? Thy mother is dead. Thy\\nfather is dead. So is it with all of them. Well, well--'\\n\\nHe turned as feeling on the floor beside him and tossed a flap of soft,\\ngreasy Mussalman bread to the boy. 'Go and lie down among my horseboys\\nfor tonight--thou and the lama. Tomorrow I may give thee service.'\\n\\nKim slunk away, his teeth in\",\n \": I have seen them. Give me a\\nrupee, Mahbub Ali, and when I come to my wealth I will give thee a bond\\nand pay.'\\n\\n'Um!' said Mahbub Ali, thinking swiftly. 'Thou hast never before lied\\nto me. Call that lama--stand back in the dark.'\\n\\n'Oh, our tales will agree,' said Kim, laughing.\\n\\n'We go to Benares,' said the lama, as soon as he understood the drift\\nof Mahbub Ali's questions. \",\n \"Allah on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub heartily, and\\nclimbed into his own stall, growling in his beard.\\n\\nBut it was Kim who had wakened the lama--Kim with one eye laid against\\na knot-hole in the planking, who had seen the Delhi man's search\\nthrough the boxes. This was no common thief that turned over letters,\\nbills, and saddles--no mere burglar who ran a little knife sideways\\ninto the soles of Mahbub's slippers\",\n \"to come to hand. However, God\\nwas great, and Mahbub Ali felt he had done all he could for the time\\nbeing. Kim was the one soul in the world who had never told him a lie.\\nThat would have been a fatal blot on Kim's character if Mahbub had not\\nknown that to others, for his own ends or Mahbub's business, Kim could\\nlie like an Oriental.\\n\\nThen Mahbub Ali rolled across the serai to the Gate of the Harpies who\\npaint their eyes and trap the stranger, and was at\",\n \"\\nMahbub Ali hauled himself off the ground, girt in his belt, and went\\nover to the horses.\\n\\n'Or sell it?'\\n\\nThere was that in the tone that made Mahbub halt and turn. 'What new\\ndevilry?'\\n\\n'Eight annas, and I will tell,' said Kim, grinning. 'It touches thy\\npeace.'\\n\\n'O Shaitan!' Mahbub gave the money.\\n\\n'Rememberest thou the little business of the thieves in the dark, down\\nyonder at\",\n \"me to captivity.'\\n\\n'Small wonder the Padre does not know how to unravel the thread. How\\nfast he talks to the Colonel Sahib!' Mahbub Ali chuckled. 'By Allah!'\\nthe keen eyes swept the veranda for an Instant--'thy lama has sent what\\nto me looks like a note of hand. I have had some few dealings in\\nhoondis. The Colonel Sahib is looking at it.'\\n\\n'What good is all this to me?' said Kim wearily. 'Thou wilt\",\n \"Sahibs! Or maybe Mahbub has been selling other news. Now what is to\\ndo, Kim? I know not where Mahbub houses, and if he comes here before\\nthe dawn they will shoot him. That would be no profit for thee, Kim.\\nAnd this is not a matter for the police. That would be no profit for\\nMahbub; and'--he giggled almost aloud--'I do not remember any lesson at\\nNucklao which will help me. Allah! Here is Kim and yonder are\"\n ],\n [\n \"odge and in part by subscription, to a place called\\nSanawar.\\n\\n'It's miraculous past all whooping, Colonel,' said Father Victor, when\\nhe had talked without a break for ten minutes. 'His Buddhist friend\\nhas levanted after taking my name and address. I can't quite make out\\nwhether he'll pay for the boy's education or whether he is preparing\\nsome sort of witchcraft on his own account.' Then to Kim: 'You'll live\\nto be grateful to your friend the Red Bull yet. We'll\",\n \"road, hailed a\\npassing cart and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the\\nbrass betel-box in his hands.\\n\\nThe record of a boy's education interests few save his parents, and, as\\nyou know, Kim was an orphan. It is written in the books of St Xavier's\\nin Partibus that a report of Kim's progress was forwarded at the end of\\neach term to Colonel Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose hands\\nduly came the money for his schooling. \",\n \"better learning is given?' The lama\\ndisregarded Kim's plans for an early flight. 'It is no wrong to pay\\nfor learning. To help the ignorant to wisdom is always a merit.' The\\nrosary clicked furiously as an abacus. Then he faced his oppressors.\\n\\n'Ask them for how much money do they give a wise and suitable teaching?\\nAnd in what city is that teaching given?'\\n\\n'Well,' said Father Victor in English, when Kim had translated, 'that\\ndepends. The Regiment would pay for you\",\n \"\\nwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away this\\nnight, for all I wanted to see the new things.'\\n\\nKim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating\\nthe replies to the lama.\\n\\nThen: 'He says, \\\"You take him from me and you cannot say what you will\\nmake him.\\\" He says, \\\"Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing\\nto make a child.\\\"'\\n\\n'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see\",\n \"\\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\\n\\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\\n\\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher\",\n \"impatience, and\\nsuggested calling a sentry to evict the fakir.\\n\\n'Do they give or sell learning among the Sahibs? Ask them,' said the\\nlama, and Kim interpreted.\\n\\n'They say that money is paid to the teacher--but that money the\\nRegiment will give ... What need? It is only for a night.'\\n\\n'And--the more money is paid the better learning is given?' The lama\\ndisregarded Kim's plans for an early flight. 'It is no wrong to pay\\nfor\",\n \"of\\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\\n\\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\\nimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would go\\nnorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor\\nwould arrange for him.\\n\\n'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thought\\nmore.\\n\\n'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\\nkeep you out of mischief. You\",\n \"It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\\n\\n'Protector of the Poor!'\\n\\nThe man backed towards the voice.\\n\\n'Mahb\",\n \"Christie.\\n\\n\\nIn the afternoon the red-faced schoolmaster told Kim that he had been\\n'struck off the strength', which conveyed no meaning to him till he was\\nordered to go away and play. Then he ran to the bazar, and found the\\nyoung letter-writer to whom he owed a stamp.\\n\\n'Now I pay,' said Kim royally, 'and now I need another letter to be\\nwritten.'\\n\\n'Mahbub Ali is in Umballa,' said the writer jauntily. He was, by\\nvirtue of\",\n \"\\nthe Colonel Sahib a great expense.'\\n\\nMahbub's lips twitched under his well-pruned Mohammedan moustache.\\n\\n'What are a few rupees'--the Pathan threw out his open hand\\ncarelessly--'to the Colonel Sahib? He spends them for a purpose, not\\nin any way for love of thee.'\\n\\n'That,' said Kim slowly, 'I knew a very long time ago.'\\n\\n'Who told?'\\n\\n'The Colonel Sahib himself. Not in those many words,\",\n \"letters, it\\nis all right.'\\n\\n'You're fond of him then?'\\n\\n'Of course I am fond of him. He was fond of me.'\\n\\n'It seems so by the look of this. He can't write English, can he?'\\n\\n'Oah no. Not that I know, but of course he found a letter-writer who\\ncan write English verree well, and so he wrote. I do hope you\\nunderstand.'\\n\\n'That accounts for it. D'you know anything about his money affairs?'\\nKim'\",\n \" Meantime, if the Sahibs were to be\\nimpressed, he would do his best to impress them. He too was a white\\nman.\\n\\nAfter much talk that he could not comprehend, they handed him over to a\\nsergeant, who had strict instructions not to let him escape. The\\nRegiment would go on to Umballa, and Kim would be sent up, partly at\\nthe expense of the Lodge and in part by subscription, to a place called\\nSanawar.\\n\\n'It's miraculous past all whooping, Colonel,'\",\n \"yes, he's the\\nman I mean--can a street-beggar raise money to educate white boys?'\\n\\nThree miles off, on Umballa racecourse, Mahbub Ali, reining a grey\\nKabuli stallion with Kim in front of him, was saying:\\n\\n'But, Little Friend of all the World, there is my honour and reputation\\nto be considered. All the officer-Sahibs in all the regiments, and all\\nUmballa, know Mahbub Ali. Men saw me pick thee up and chastise\",\n \"though he spoke the\\nvernacular by preference, and his mother-tongue in a clipped uncertain\\nsing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the\\nsmall boys of the bazar; Kim was white--a poor white of the very\\npoorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him (she smoked opium,\\nand pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the square where\\nthe cheap cabs wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother's\\nsister; but his mother had been nursemaid in\",\n \"teaching given?'\\n\\n'Well,' said Father Victor in English, when Kim had translated, 'that\\ndepends. The Regiment would pay for you all the time you are at the\\nMilitary Orphanage; or you might go on the Punjab Masonic Orphanage's\\nlist (not that he or you 'ud understand what that means); but the best\\nschooling a boy can get in India is, of course, at St Xavier's in\\nPartibus at Lucknow.' This took some time to interpret, for Bennett\\nwished to cut it short.\\n\",\n \"him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet and\\nswaddle him in these clothes. Then he will forget all he knows. Now,\\nwhich of the barracks is thine?'\\n\\nKim pointed--he could not speak--to Father Victor's wing, all staring\\nwhite near by.\\n\\n'Perhaps he will make a good soldier,' said Mahbub reflectively.\\n\\n'He will make a good orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a message\\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\\nstallion\",\n \"boy to empty, lime-washed barracks, whose floors\\nwere covered with rubbish and string and paper, and whose ceilings gave\\nback his lonely footfall. Native-fashion, he curled himself up on a\\nstripped cot and went to sleep. An angry man stumped down the veranda,\\nwoke him up, and said he was a schoolmaster. This was enough for Kim,\\nand he retired into his shell. He could just puzzle out the various\\nEnglish Police notices in Lahore city, because they affected his\\ncomfort; and\",\n \" Alas! It is a great and terrible\\nworld.'\\n\\nKim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried his\\nown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck.\\nMahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his\\nEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,\\nmade him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the\",\n \"craft on his own account.' Then to Kim: 'You'll live\\nto be grateful to your friend the Red Bull yet. We'll make a man of\\nyou at Sanawar--even at the price o' making you a Protestant.'\\n\\n'Certainly--most certainly,' said Bennett.\\n\\n'But you will not go to Sanawar,' said Kim.\\n\\n'But we will go to Sanawar, little man. That's the order of the\\nCommander-in-Chief, who's a trifle more important than O'\",\n \".'\\n\\n'There is nothing,' said Kim, and scratched it. He was wondering\\nwhether Mahbub Ali would send him as much as a whole rupee. Then he\\ncould pay the letter-writer and write letters to the lama at Benares.\\nPerhaps Mahbub Ali would visit him next time he came south with horses.\\nSurely he must know that Kim's delivery of the letter to the officer at\\nUmballa had caused the great war which the men and boys had discussed\\nso loudly over the barrack dinner-tables. But if Mah\"\n ],\n [\n \"; I am\\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\\n\\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If\",\n \"allowance only. Twenty rupees a month.'\\n\\nOne advantage of the Secret Service is that it has no worrying audit.\\nThat Service is ludicrously starved, of course, but the funds are\\nadministered by a few men who do not call for vouchers or present\\nitemized accounts. Mahbub's eyes lighted with almost a Sikh's love of\\nmoney. Even Lurgan's impassive face changed. He considered the years\\nto come when Kim would have been entered and made to the Great Game\\nthat never\",\n \"It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\\n\\n'Protector of the Poor!'\\n\\nThe man backed towards the voice.\\n\\n'Mahb\",\n \". So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\\nemployment.\\n\\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No\",\n \"\\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\\n\\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\\n\\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\\ntale of the thief and the search?'\\n\\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l\",\n \"would have told his master.\\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\\ntheir way up from Quetta to the North. The Game is so large that one\\nsees but a little at a time.'\\n\\n'Oho!' said Kim, and held his tongue. That was in the monsoon\\nholidays, after he had taken the prize for mathematics. The Christmas\\nholidays he spent--deducting ten days for private amusements--with\\nLurgan Sahib, where he sat for the most part in front\",\n \"?' The Englishman switched at the rose-hedge in\\nthe side of the drive.\\n\\n'Mahbub Ali has given me this proof.' Kim flipped the wad of folded\\npaper into the air, and it fell in the path beside the man, who put his\\nfoot on it as a gardener came round the corner. When the servant passed\\nhe picked it up, dropped a rupee--Kim could hear the clink--and strode\\ninto the house, never turning round. Swiftly Kim took up the money;\\nbut for all his training,\",\n \"gan's impassive face changed. He considered the years\\nto come when Kim would have been entered and made to the Great Game\\nthat never ceases day and night, throughout India. He foresaw honour\\nand credit in the mouths of a chosen few, coming to him from his pupil.\\nLurgan Sahib had made E.23 what E.23 was, out of a bewildered,\\nimpertinent, lying, little North-West Province man.\\n\\nBut the joy of these masters was pale and smoky beside the joy of Kim\\n\",\n \"and the big burly Afghan,\\nhis beard dyed scarlet with lime (for he was elderly and did not wish\\nhis grey hairs to show), knew the boy's value as a gossip. Sometimes\\nhe would tell Kim to watch a man who had nothing whatever to do with\\nhorses: to follow him for one whole day and report every soul with\\nwhom he talked. Kim would deliver himself of his tale at evening, and\\nMahbub would listen without a word or gesture. It was intrigue of some\\nkind, Kim knew; but its worth\",\n \". Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached\\nthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white\\nmen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim\\ndid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful\\nwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was\\nhand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al\\nRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian\\nNights\",\n \",\\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\\n\\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\\nevery time he\",\n \"? I am only a boy. Wait till I am a man.' Then,\\nseeing the Colonel's brow clouded, he went on: 'But I think I should\\nin a few days earn the hundred rupees.'\\n\\n'By what road?'\\n\\nKim shook his head resolutely. 'If I said how I would earn them,\\nanother man might hear and forestall me. It is not good to sell\\nknowledge for nothing.'\\n\\n'Tell now.' The Colonel held up a rupee. Kim's hand half reached\",\n \"The woman sighed aloud, and Kim relented.\\n\\n'There is no payment till service has been rendered. Carry this to the\\nBabu, and say it was sent by the Son of the Charm.'\\n\\n'Ai! Truly! Truly! By a magician--who is like a Sahib.'\\n\\n'Nay, a Son of the Charm: and ask if there be any answer.'\\n\\n'But if he offer a rudeness? I--I am afraid.'\\n\\nKim laughed. 'He is,\",\n \"revealed in a breath, but at evening\\nencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of,\\nthe doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee\\ncows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes across\\nthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks\\napart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, as\\nbudding physician, must accompany him.\\n\\n'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not\",\n \"and sat\\ndown on a patch of ruddy leopard's skin as Kim rose at the call for the\\nBenares train.\\n\\n'Go in hope, little brother,' he said. 'It is a long road to the feet\\nof the One; but thither do we all travel.'\\n\\nKim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he had sat out twenty\\nmiles in the crowded compartment, was cheering his neighbours with a\\nstring of most wonderful yarns about his own and his master's magical\\ngifts.\\n\\nBena\",\n \"struck Kim--he\\nwould teach the boy to write in return for food. Kim had been kicked\\nas far as single letters, but did not think well of them.\\n\\n'I do not know anything. Go away!' said Kim, scenting evil. Hereupon\\nthe man caught him by the ear, dragged him to a room in a far-off wing\\nwhere a dozen drummer-boys were sitting on forms, and told him to be\\nstill if he could do nothing else. This he managed very successfully.\\nThe man explained something or other with white lines on a\",\n \"of my son. Thou art a miracle-worker--I know it.'\\n\\n'Show me the cuts.' Kim bent over the Mahratta's neck, his heart\\nnearly choking him; for this was the Great Game with a vengeance. 'Now,\\ntell thy tale swiftly, brother, while I say a charm.'\\n\\n'I come from the South, where my work lay. One of us they slew by the\\nroadside. Hast thou heard?' Kim shook his head. He, of course, knew\\nnothing of E\",\n \"side; and what sort of language\\nhe would use to an Englishman, to a Punjabi farmer going to a fair, and\\nto a woman without a veil. Lurgan Sahib laughed immensely, and begged\\nKim to stay as he was, immobile for half an hour--cross-legged,\\nash-smeared, and wild-eyed, in the back room. At the end of that time\\nentered a hulking, obese Babu whose stockinged legs shook with fat, and\\nKim opened on him with a shower of\",\n \"later. Mahbub had\\ngone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim\\nmet him on the Kalka road at dusk riding alone, begged an alms of him,\\nwas sworn at, and replied in English. There was nobody within earshot\\nto hear Mahbub's gasp of amazement.\\n\\n'Oho! And where hast thou been?'\\n\\n'Up and down--down and up.'\\n\\n'Come under a tree, out of the wet, and tell.'\\n\\n'I stayed for\",\n \"a pensioner at Chunar, hinted very broadly that Colonel\\nCreighton's interest in Kim was directly paternal; and Kim, instead of\\nretaliating, did not even use language. He was thinking of the immense\\nfun to come, of Mahbub's letter of the day before, all neatly written\\nin English, making appointment for that afternoon in a house the very\\nname of which would have crisped the Principal's hair with horror...\\n\\nSaid Kim to Mahbub in Lucknow railway station that evening, above the\\nlug\"\n ],\n [\n \"Kim looked up\\nsharply, like the Indian crows so busy about the fields.\\n\\n'Surely, child: from Kulu to Pathankot--from Kulu, where my first\\nchela died. When men were kind to us we made offerings, and all men\\nwere well-disposed throughout all the Hills.'\\n\\n'It is otherwise in Hind,' said Kim drily. 'Their Gods are many-armed\\nand malignant. Let them alone.'\\n\\n'I would set thee on thy road for a little, Friend of all the\",\n \"harebell down the valleys and round the\\nmountain sides, and in due time the lama and Kim, who steered by\\ncompass, would overhaul it, vending ointments and powders at eventide.\\n'We came by such and such a way!' The lama would throw a careless\\nfinger backward at the ridges, and the umbrella would expend itself in\\ncompliments.\\n\\nThey crossed a snowy pass in cold moonlight, when the lama, mildly\\nchaffing Kim, went through up to his knees, like\",\n \"day they struck deeper into the huddled mountains, and day\\nafter day Kim watched the lama return to a man's strength. Among the\\nterraces of the Doon he had leaned on the boy's shoulder, ready to\\nprofit by wayside halts. Under the great ramp to Mussoorie he drew\\nhimself together as an old hunter faces a well-remembered bank, and\\nwhere he should have sunk exhausted swung his long draperies about him,\\ndrew a deep double-lungful of the diamond air, and walked as only a\\nhillman\",\n \"as Kedarnath and Badrinath--kings of that wilderness--took the\\nfirst sunlight. All day long they lay like molten silver under the\\nsun, and at evening put on their jewels again. At first they breathed\\ntemperately upon the travellers, winds good to meet when one crawled\\nover some gigantic hog's-back; but in a few days, at a height of nine\\nor ten thousand feet, those breezes bit; and Kim kindly allowed a\\nvillage of hillmen to acquire merit by giving him a rough\",\n \"! the Hills, and the snows upon the Hills.' The lami tore off a\\ntiny square of paper fit to go in an amulet. 'But what dost thou know\\nof the Hills?'\\n\\n'They are very close.' Kim thrust open the door and looked at the\\nlong, peaceful line of the Himalayas flushed in morning-gold. 'Except\\nin the dress of a Sahib, I have never set foot among them.'\\n\\nThe lama snuffed the wind wistfully.\\n\\n'If we go North,'--K\",\n \"and sat\\ndown on a patch of ruddy leopard's skin as Kim rose at the call for the\\nBenares train.\\n\\n'Go in hope, little brother,' he said. 'It is a long road to the feet\\nof the One; but thither do we all travel.'\\n\\nKim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he had sat out twenty\\nmiles in the crowded compartment, was cheering his neighbours with a\\nstring of most wonderful yarns about his own and his master's magical\\ngifts.\\n\\nBena\",\n \"Bushahr and Chini valley. That is ascertained by process\\nof elimination, and also by asking questions from people that I cure so\\nwell. Our friends have been a long time playing about and producing\\nimpressions. So they are well known from far off. You will see me\\ncatch them somewhere in Chini valley. Please keep your eye on the\\numbrella.'\\n\\nIt nodded like a wind-blown harebell down the valleys and round the\\nmountain sides, and in due time the lama and Kim, who steered by\\ncompass\",\n \"-class with the lama.\\n'Sahibs get little pleasure of travel,' he reflected.\\n\\n'Hai mai! I go from one place to another as it might be a kickball. It\\nis my Kismet. No man can escape his Kismet. But I am to pray to Bibi\\nMiriam, and I am a Sahib.' He looked at his boots ruefully. 'No; I am\\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\\nconsidered his\",\n \"'Now let us walk,' muttered the lama, and to the click of his rosary\\nthey walked in silence mile upon mile. The lama as usual, was deep in\\nmeditation, but Kim's bright eyes were open wide. This broad, smiling\\nriver of life, he considered, was a vast improvement on the cramped and\\ncrowded Lahore streets. There were new people and new sights at every\\nstride--castes he knew and castes that were altogether out of his\\nexperience.\\n\\nThey met a troop of long-haired,\",\n \"as he had\\nreached the broad road under Simla Town Hall, he cast about for one to\\nimpress. A Hindu child, some ten years old, squatted under a lamp-post.\\n\\n'Where is Mr Lurgan's house?' demanded Kim.\\n\\n'I do not understand English,' was the answer, and Kim shifted his\\nspeech accordingly.\\n\\n'I will show.'\\n\\nTogether they set off through the mysterious dusk, full of the noises\\nof a city below the hillside, and the breath of a cool wind in\\ndeodar\",\n \"\\nclicking his rosary.\\n\\nThey followed the rutted and worn country road that wound across the\\nflat between the great dark-green mango-groves, the line of the\\nsnowcapped Himalayas faint to the eastward. All India was at work in\\nthe fields, to the creaking of well-wheels, the shouting of ploughmen\\nbehind their cattle, and the clamour of the crows. Even the pony felt\\nthe good influence and almost broke into a trot as Kim laid a hand on\\nthe stirrup\",\n \"Chini.\\nThat is the only way they can come. I do not like waiting in the cold,\\nbut we must wait for them. I want to walk with them to Simla. You see,\\none Russian is a Frenchman, and I know my French pretty well. I have\\nfriends in Chandernagore.'\\n\\n'He would certainly rejoice to see the Hills again,' said Kim\\nmeditatively. 'All his speech these ten days past has been of little\\nelse. If we go together--'\\n\\n'Oah! We can be quite\",\n \"; I am\\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\\n\\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If\",\n \"ans hurrying down tiny sheep,\\neach laden with a bag of borax. They came out upon grassy shoulders\\nstill snow-speckled, and through forest, to grass anew. For all their\\nmarchings, Kedarnath and Badrinath were not impressed; and it was only\\nafter days of travel that Kim, uplifted upon some insignificant\\nten-thousand-foot hummock, could see that a shoulder-knot or horn of\\nthe two great lords had--ever so slightly--changed outline.\\n\\nAt last\",\n \"\\nhis honoured employers. Crouched against a tree-trunk, he sniffed\\ndolefully.\\n\\n'And have you thought,' said the uninjured man hotly, 'what sort of\\nspectacle we shall present wandering through these hills among these\\naborigines?'\\n\\nHurree Babu had thought of little else for some hours, but the remark\\nwas not to his address.\\n\\n'We cannot wander! I can hardly walk,' groaned Kim's victim.\\n\\n'Perhaps the holy man will be merciful in loving-kind\",\n \"oli and swing out of sight between the scrub\\nclumps.\\n\\nThe lama raises a hand toward the rampart of the Himalayas. 'Not with\\nyou, O blessed among all hills, fell the Arrow of Our Lord! And never\\nshall I breathe your airs again!'\\n\\n'But thou art ten times the stronger man in this good air,' says Kim,\\nfor to his wearied soul appeal the well-cropped, kindly Plains. 'Here,\\nor hereabouts, fell the Arrow, yes. We will go very softly, perhaps,\",\n \"or ten thousand feet, those breezes bit; and Kim kindly allowed a\\nvillage of hillmen to acquire merit by giving him a rough blanket-coat.\\nThe lama was mildly surprised that anyone should object to the\\nknife-edged breezes which had cut the years off his shoulders.\\n\\n'These are but the lower hills, chela. There is no cold till we come\\nto the true Hills.'\\n\\n'Air and water are good, and the people are devout enough, but the food\\nis very bad,' Kim growled; 'and we walk\",\n \"revealed in a breath, but at evening\\nencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of,\\nthe doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee\\ncows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes across\\nthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks\\napart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, as\\nbudding physician, must accompany him.\\n\\n'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not\",\n \"a little wayfaring, they\\nslept; meeting the world refreshed when the air was cooler. Night\\nfound them adventuring into new territory--some chosen village spied\\nthree hours before across the fat land, and much discussed upon the\\nroad.\\n\\nThere they told their tale--a new one each evening so far as Kim was\\nconcerned--and there were they made welcome, either by priest or\\nheadman, after the custom of the kindly East.\\n\\nWhen the shadows shortened and the lama leaned more heavily upon Kim,\\nthere was always the Wheel\",\n \"were opened to this world;\\nthere I found Enlightenment; and there I girt my loins for my Search.\\nOut of the Hills I came--the high Hills and the strong winds. Oh, just\\nis the Wheel!' He blessed them in detail--the great glaciers, the\\nnaked rocks, the piled moraines and tumbled shale; dry upland, hidden\\nsalt-lake, age-old timber and fruitful water-shot valley one after the\\nother, as a dying man blesses his folk; and Kim marvelled\"\n ],\n [\n \"Chini.\\nThat is the only way they can come. I do not like waiting in the cold,\\nbut we must wait for them. I want to walk with them to Simla. You see,\\none Russian is a Frenchman, and I know my French pretty well. I have\\nfriends in Chandernagore.'\\n\\n'He would certainly rejoice to see the Hills again,' said Kim\\nmeditatively. 'All his speech these ten days past has been of little\\nelse. If we go together--'\\n\\n'Oah! We can be quite\",\n \"? I am only a boy. Wait till I am a man.' Then,\\nseeing the Colonel's brow clouded, he went on: 'But I think I should\\nin a few days earn the hundred rupees.'\\n\\n'By what road?'\\n\\nKim shook his head resolutely. 'If I said how I would earn them,\\nanother man might hear and forestall me. It is not good to sell\\nknowledge for nothing.'\\n\\n'Tell now.' The Colonel held up a rupee. Kim's hand half reached\",\n \"Rajah. There is also the Babu with\\nthem. Clerks have long tongues.'\\n\\n'Is that all thy trouble?' The plan rose fully formed in Kim's mind,\\nand he smiled ravishingly.\\n\\n'Not all,' quoth the woman, putting out a hard brown hand all covered\\nwith turquoises set in silver.\\n\\n'I can finish that in a breath,' he went on quickly. 'The Babu is the\\nvery hakim (thou hast heard of him?) who was wandering among the hills\\nby Z\",\n \"would have told his master.\\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\\ntheir way up from Quetta to the North. The Game is so large that one\\nsees but a little at a time.'\\n\\n'Oho!' said Kim, and held his tongue. That was in the monsoon\\nholidays, after he had taken the prize for mathematics. The Christmas\\nholidays he spent--deducting ten days for private amusements--with\\nLurgan Sahib, where he sat for the most part in front\",\n \"went--look,\\nthe door is open!--as far as a certain house with a red-painted\\nveranda, behind that which was the old theatre in the Lower Bazar, and\\nwhispered through the shutters: \\\"Hurree Chunder Mookerjee bore the bad\\nnews of last month\\\", that boy might take away a belt full of rupees.'\\n\\n'How many?' said Kim promptly.\\n\\n'Five hundred--a thousand--as many as he might ask for.'\\n\\n'Good. And for how long might such a boy\",\n \"I don't think we need keep the ladies waiting any longer. We can\\nsettle the rest over the cigars. I thought it was coming. It's\\npunishment--not war.'\\n\\nAs the trooper cantered off, Kim crawled round to the back of the\\nhouse, where, going on his Lahore experiences, he judged there would be\\nfood--and information. The kitchen was crowded with excited scullions,\\none of whom kicked him.\\n\\n'Aie,' said Kim, feigning tears. 'I came only to\",\n \"The woman sighed aloud, and Kim relented.\\n\\n'There is no payment till service has been rendered. Carry this to the\\nBabu, and say it was sent by the Son of the Charm.'\\n\\n'Ai! Truly! Truly! By a magician--who is like a Sahib.'\\n\\n'Nay, a Son of the Charm: and ask if there be any answer.'\\n\\n'But if he offer a rudeness? I--I am afraid.'\\n\\nKim laughed. 'He is,\",\n \"only jesting. Give the order. There is more than enough\\nfor us all. We go our way from Shamlegh in the dawn.'\\n\\nThey arranged and re-arranged their artless little plans for another\\nhour, while Kim shivered with cold and pride. The humour of the\\nsituation tickled the Irish and the Oriental in his soul. Here were\\nthe emissaries of the dread Power of the North, very possibly as great\\nin their own land as Mahbub or Colonel Creighton, suddenly smitten\\nhelpless. One\",\n \"these things are?'\\n\\n'Yes.' said Kim. 'They are mine, and I want to go away.'\\n\\n'I do not quite understand,' said Mr Bennett. 'He probably brought\\nthem on purpose. It may be a begging trick of some kind.'\\n\\n'I never saw a beggar less anxious to stay with his company, then.\\nThere's the makings of a gay mystery here. Ye believe in Providence,\\nBennett?'\\n\\n'I hope so.'\\n\\n'Well, I believe in miracles, so it comes to\",\n \"It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\\n\\n'Protector of the Poor!'\\n\\nThe man backed towards the voice.\\n\\n'Mahb\",\n \"s head against a\\nboulder.\\n\\n'Go back to the coolies,' whispered the Babu in his ear. 'They have\\nthe baggage. The papers are in the kilta with the red top, but look\\nthrough all. Take their papers, and specially the murasla [King's\\nletter]. Go! The other man comes!'\\n\\nKim tore uphill. A revolver-bullet rang on a rock by his side, and he\\ncowered partridge-wise.\\n\\n'If you shoot,' shouted Hurree\",\n \"; I am\\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\\n\\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If\",\n \"rientals!\\\" Oh, you have done well.'\\n\\nThey fell to it in several tongues, and Hurree smiled. Kim was with\\nthe kiltas, and in the kiltas lay eight months of good diplomacy. There\\nwas no means of communicating with the boy, but he could be trusted.\\nFor the rest, Hurree could so stage-manage the journey through the\\nhills that Hilas, Bunar, and four hundred miles of hill-roads should\\ntell the tale for a generation. Men who cannot control their own\\ncoolies are little\",\n \"\\nfor tonight--thou and the lama. Tomorrow I may give thee service.'\\n\\nKim slunk away, his teeth in the bread, and, as he expected, he found a\\nsmall wad of folded tissue-paper wrapped in oilskin, with three silver\\nrupees--enormous largesse. He smiled and thrust money and paper into\\nhis leather amulet-case. The lama, sumptuously fed by Mahbub's Baltis,\\nwas already asleep in a corner of one of the stalls. Kim lay down\\n\",\n \"plicated by the correspondence. By Gad, sar! The\\nBritish Government will change the succession in Hilas and Bunar, and\\nnominate new heirs to the throne. \\\"Trea-son most base\\\" ... but you do\\nnot understand? Eh?'\\n\\n'Are they in thy hands?' said Kim. It was all he cared for.\\n\\n'Just you jolly-well bet yourself they are.' He stowed the entire\\ntrove about his body, as only Orientals can. 'They are going up to the\",\n \"ement; and the crowd\\nshivered.\\n\\n'So--so--so. But what does He when He is about to give an order?'\\n\\n'He rubs the skin at the back of his neck--thus. Then falls one finger\\non the table and He makes a small sniffing noise through his nose.\\nThen He speaks, saying: \\\"Loose such and such a regiment. Call out such\\nguns.\\\"'\\n\\nThe old man rose stiffly and saluted.\\n\\n'\\\"For\\\"'--Kim translated into the vernacular the clin\",\n \" Alas! It is a great and terrible\\nworld.'\\n\\nKim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried his\\nown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck.\\nMahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his\\nEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,\\nmade him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the\",\n \",\\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\\n\\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\\nevery time he\",\n \"\\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\\n\\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\\n\\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\\ntale of the thief and the search?'\\n\\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l\",\n \"up and asked if Kim would accept his\\nhospitality for the night. The priest recommended him to do so, but\\ninsisted that the honour of entertaining the lama belonged to the\\ntemple--at which the lama smiled guilelessly. Kim glanced from one\\nface to the other, and drew his own conclusions.\\n\\n'Where is the money?' he whispered, beckoning the old man off into the\\ndarkness.\\n\\n'In my bosom. Where else?'\\n\\n'Give it me. Quietly and swiftly give it me.'\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"Gods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom.'\\n\\n'That is well said.' The lama was much impressed by the plan. 'We\\nwill begin tomorrow, and a blessing on thee for showing old feet such a\\nnear road.' A deep, sing-song Chinese half-chant closed the sentence.\\nEven the priest was impressed, and the headman feared an evil spell:\\nbut none could look at the lama's simple, eager face and doubt him long.\\n\\n'Seest thou my chela?' he said, diving into\",\n \" I only wished to see that\\nthe boy had come to no harm and was a free agent. As thou knowest, he\\nand I were old friends in the first days of your pilgrimage together.'\\n\\n'That is a bond between us.' The lama sat down. 'We are at the end of\\nthe pilgrimage.'\\n\\n'No thanks to thee thine was not cut off for good and all a week back.\\nI heard what the Sahiba said to thee when we bore thee up on the cot.'\\nMahbub laughed, and\",\n \"Umballa to the very village whose priest had tried to\\ndrug him; but the kind Heaven that guards lamas sent him at twilight\\nthrough the crops, absorbed and unsuspicious, to the Rissaldar's door.\\nHere was like to have been a grave misunderstanding, for the old\\nsoldier asked him why the Friend of the Stars had gone that way only\\nsix days before.\\n\\n'That may not be,' said the lama. 'He has gone back to his own people.'\\n\\n'He sat in that corner telling a hundred merry tales\",\n \"But this was used for the initiation of a novice. Tell him so, hakim.'\\n\\n'He wishes it now--for money.'\\n\\nThe lama shook his head slowly and began to fold up the Wheel. The\\nRussian, on his side, saw no more than an unclean old man haggling over\\na dirty piece of paper. He drew out a handful of rupees, and snatched\\nhalf-jestingly at the chart, which tore in the lama's grip. A low\\nmurmur of horror went up from the\",\n \"Then he attempted\\nrunning off to the village where the priest had tried to drug the\\nlama--the village where the old soldier lived. But far-seeing sentries\\nat every exit headed back the little scarlet figure. Trousers and\\njacket crippled body and mind alike so he abandoned the project and\\nfell back, Oriental-fashion, on time and chance. Three days of torment\\npassed in the big, echoing white rooms. He walked out of afternoons\\nunder escort of the drummer-boy, and all he heard from his companions\",\n \"and not steal. We will\\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\\nhere to find the Red Bull and all that sort of thing. I do not want\\nit.'\\n\\n'It's the very best day's work you ever did for yourself, young man,'\\nsaid Bennett.\\n\\n'Good heavens, I don't know how to console him,' said Father Victor,\\nwatching the lama intently. 'He can't take the boy away with him, and\\nyet he's a good man--\",\n \"due to\\nmy forethought. 'He says, Holy One, that he will escape from the\\nidolaters, and will return to us. Shall we wait awhile at Shamlegh,\\nthen?'\\n\\nThe lama looked long and lovingly upon the hills and shook his head.\\n\\n'That may not be, chela. From my bones outward I do desire it, but it\\nis forbidden. I have seen the Cause of Things.'\\n\\n'Why? When the Hills give thee back thy strength day by day? Remember\\nwe\",\n \"'And if you\\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\\nto interfere.'\\n\\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\\nwatched the lama's face.\\n\\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by\",\n \"\\nThe lama dragged forth his rosary and pulled his huge hat-brim over his\\neyes.\\n\\n'What can he want now?'\\n\\n'He says'--Kim put up one hand. 'He says: \\\"Be quiet.\\\" He wants to\\nspeak to me by himself. You see, you do not know one little word of\\nwhat he says, and I think if you talk he will perhaps give you very bad\\ncurses. When he takes those beads like that, you see, he always wants\\nto be quiet.'\\n\\nThe two\",\n \"\\n'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more.\\nHe says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants to\\nbe washed of his sins.'\\n\\nNeither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready.\\n\\nSaid Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you\\nwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will\\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\\nhere to find the Red Bull\",\n \"\\nwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away this\\nnight, for all I wanted to see the new things.'\\n\\nKim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating\\nthe replies to the lama.\\n\\nThen: 'He says, \\\"You take him from me and you cannot say what you will\\nmake him.\\\" He says, \\\"Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing\\nto make a child.\\\"'\\n\\n'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see\",\n \"know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing.\\nVillages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, for\\nnot only has the lama given them blessings, but his disciple good\\nmoney--full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve miles a day has the dooli\\ntravelled, as the greasy, rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few\\nSahibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dust\\nfilled every fold of the imp\",\n \"day they struck deeper into the huddled mountains, and day\\nafter day Kim watched the lama return to a man's strength. Among the\\nterraces of the Doon he had leaned on the boy's shoulder, ready to\\nprofit by wayside halts. Under the great ramp to Mussoorie he drew\\nhimself together as an old hunter faces a well-remembered bank, and\\nwhere he should have sunk exhausted swung his long draperies about him,\\ndrew a deep double-lungful of the diamond air, and walked as only a\\nhillman\",\n \"watching the lama intently. 'He can't take the boy away with him, and\\nyet he's a good man--I'm sure he's a good man. Bennett, if you give him\\nthat rupee he'll curse you root and branch!'\\n\\nThey listened to each other's breathing--three--five full minutes.\\nThen the lama raised his head, and looked forth across them into space\\nand emptiness.\\n\\n'And I am a Follower of the Way,' he said bitterly. 'The sin is mine\\nand\",\n \"The shots ceased. There was a sound of stumbling feet, and Kim hurried\\nupward through the gloom, swearing like a cat--or a country-bred.\\n\\n'Did they wound thee, chela?' called the lama above him.\\n\\n'No. And thou?' He dived into a clump of stunted firs.\\n\\n'Unhurt. Come away. We go with these folk to Shamlegh-under-the-Snow.'\\n\\n'But not before we have done justice,' a voice cried. \",\n \"from the Road. Then he goes to see the boy at the madrissah, as we\\nknow for the boy was punished for it twice or thrice. He is quite mad,\\nbut a peaceful man. I have met him. The Babu also has had dealings\\nwith him. We have watched him for three years. Red Lamas are not so\\ncommon in Hind that one loses track.'\\n\\n'Babus are very curious,' said Lurgan meditatively. 'Do you know what\\nHurree Babu really wants? He\",\n \"\\nThe lama held his peace. Except for the click of the rosary and a\\nfaint clop-clop of Mahbub's retreating feet, the soft, smoky silence of\\nevening in India wrapped them close.\\n\\n'Hear me! I bring news.'\\n\\n'But let us--'\\n\\nOut shot the long yellow hand compelling silence. Kim tucked his feet\\nunder his robe-edge obediently.\\n\\n'Hear me! I bring news! The Search is finished. Comes now the\\nR\",\n \"drawn.'\\n\\n'And his to thine, I hear. Hearts are like horses. They come and they\\ngo against bit or spur. Shout Gul Sher Khan yonder to drive in that\\nbay stallion's pickets more firmly. We do not want a horse-fight at\\nevery resting-stage, and the dun and the black will be locked in a\\nlittle ... Now hear me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart\\nto see that lama?'\\n\\n'It is one part of my bond,' said Kim\",\n \",'\\nsaid he.\\n\\n'It is this person who has suffered wrong,' said the lama, his hand\\nover his brow.\\n\\n'For that very reason,' was the reply.\\n\\n'If this person overlooks it, your hands are clean. Moreover, ye\\nacquire merit by obedience.'\\n\\n'Wait, and we will all go to Shamlegh together,' the man insisted.\\n\\nFor a moment, for just so long as it needs to stuff a cartridge into a\\nbreech-loader, the lama hesitated. Then he\",\n \"him in charge of my servants, and\\nso on.'\\n\\n'You're a good man.'\\n\\n'Not in the least. Don't make that mistake. The lama has sent us\\nmoney for a definite end. We can't very well return it. We shall have\\nto do as he says. Well, that's settled, isn't it? Shall we say that,\\nTuesday next, you'll hand him over to me at the night train south?\\nThat's only three days. He can't do\"\n ],\n [\n \"Sukkur in the sands to Galle beneath the palms, none was so filled with\\nvirtue as Kimball O'Hara, jiggeting down to Umballa behind Hurree\\nChunder Mookerjee, whose name on the books of one section of the\\nEthnological Survey was R.17.\\n\\nAnd if additional spur were needed, the Babu supplied it. After a huge\\nmeal at Kalka, he spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school?\\nThen he, an M A of Calcutta University\",\n \"revealed in a breath, but at evening\\nencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of,\\nthe doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee\\ncows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes across\\nthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks\\napart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, as\\nbudding physician, must accompany him.\\n\\n'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not\",\n \"It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\\n\\n'Protector of the Poor!'\\n\\nThe man backed towards the voice.\\n\\n'Mahb\",\n \"Ye believe in Providence,\\nBennett?'\\n\\n'I hope so.'\\n\\n'Well, I believe in miracles, so it comes to the same thing. Powers of\\nDarkness! Kimball O'Hara! And his son! But then he's a native, and I\\nsaw Kimball married myself to Annie Shott. How long have you had these\\nthings, boy?'\\n\\n'Ever since I was a little baby.'\\n\\nFather Victor stepped forward quickly and opened the front of Kim's\\nupper garment. '\",\n \"poor O'Hara that was gang-foreman on\\nthe Ferozepore line. Then he would weep bitterly in the broken rush\\nchair on the veranda. So it came about after his death that the woman\\nsewed parchment, paper, and birth-certificate into a leather\\namulet-case which she strung round Kim's neck.\\n\\n'And some day,' she said, confusedly remembering O'Hara's prophecies,\\n'there will come for you a great Red Bull on a green field, and the\\nCol\",\n \"'\\n\\n'I did not thieve,' protested Kim. 'You have hit me kicks all over my\\nbody. Now give me my charm and I will go away.'\\n\\n'Not quite so fast. We'll look first,' said Father Victor, leisurely\\nrolling out poor Kimball O'Hara's 'ne varietur' parchment, his\\nclearance-certificate, and Kim's baptismal certificate. On this last\\nO'Hara--with some confused idea that he was doing wonders for his\\nson--had sc\",\n \"the bazars which were in bounds.\\nHe styled all natives 'niggers'; yet servants and sweepers called him\\nabominable names to his face, and, misled by their deferential\\nattitude, he never understood. This somewhat consoled Kim for the\\nbeatings.\\n\\nOn the morning of the fourth day a judgement overtook that drummer.\\nThey had gone out together towards Umballa racecourse. He returned\\nalone, weeping, with news that young O'Hara, to whom he had been doing\\nnothing in particular, had\",\n \"the short space of life that\\nwould remain to him.\\n\\n'So I should lose Delhi for the sake of a fish,' was his proverbial\\nphilosophy. It behoved him to forget his holidays (there would always\\nremain the fun of inventing imaginary adventures) and, as Lurgan Sahib\\nhad said, to work. Of all the boys hurrying back to St Xavier's, from\\nSukkur in the sands to Galle beneath the palms, none was so filled with\\nvirtue as Kimball O'Hara,\",\n \"the cheap cabs wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother's\\nsister; but his mother had been nursemaid in a Colonel's family and had\\nmarried Kimball O'Hara, a young colour-sergeant of the Mavericks, an\\nIrish regiment. He afterwards took a post on the Sind, Punjab, and\\nDelhi Railway, and his Regiment went home without him. The wife died\\nof cholera in Ferozepore, and O'Hara fell to drink and loafing up and\",\n \"ly remembering O'Hara's prophecies,\\n'there will come for you a great Red Bull on a green field, and the\\nColonel riding on his tall horse, yes, and' dropping into\\nEnglish--'nine hundred devils.'\\n\\n'Ah,' said Kim, 'I shall remember. A Red Bull and a Colonel on a horse\\nwill come, but first, my father said, will come the two men making\\nready the ground for these matters. That is how my father said they\\nalways did; and it is always so when men work magic.'\\n\\nIf\",\n \"Oah! I tell you we are all proud of you. It was verree neat and\\nhandy. Our mutual friend, he is old friend of mine. He has been in\\nsome dam'-tight places. Now he will be in some more. He told me; I\\ntell Mr Lurgan; and he is pleased you graduate so nicely. All the\\nDepartment is pleased.'\\n\\nFor the first time in his life, Kim thrilled to the clean pride (it can\\nbe a deadly pitfall, none the less) of Departmental praise--ens\",\n \"?' The old servitor curled\\nhis white moustaches savagely in the young moonlight. 'I am\\nresponsible for the honour of this house. Go!' and he drove the\\nunderlings before him.\\n\\nSaid the hakim, hardly more than shaping the words with his lips: 'How\\ndo you do, Mister O'Hara? I am jolly glad to see you again.'\\n\\nKim's hand clenched about the pipe-stem. Anywhere on the open road,\\nperhaps, he would not\",\n \"verree good. My word, Mister O'Hara, they know about you and the\\nlama for fifty miles--the common people. So I come. Do you mind?'\\n\\n'Babuji,' said Kim, looking up at the broad, grinning face, 'I am a\\nSahib.'\\n\\n'My dear Mister O'Hara--'\\n\\n'And I hope to play the Great Game.'\\n\\n'You are subordinate to me departmentally at present.'\\n\\n'Then why talk like an ape in a tree? Men\",\n \"World'--Kim started at the title.\\n'Would I had a few of the years that so irk thee. I have proved thee\\nin several small ways. This will not be forgotten when I make my\\nreport to the Colonel Sahib.' Then, changing suddenly into English\\nwith a deep laugh:\\n\\n'By Jove! O'Hara, I think there is a great deal in you; but you must\\nnot become proud and you must not talk. You must go back to Lucknow\\nand be a good little boy and mind your book, as\",\n \"harebell down the valleys and round the\\nmountain sides, and in due time the lama and Kim, who steered by\\ncompass, would overhaul it, vending ointments and powders at eventide.\\n'We came by such and such a way!' The lama would throw a careless\\nfinger backward at the ridges, and the umbrella would expend itself in\\ncompliments.\\n\\nThey crossed a snowy pass in cold moonlight, when the lama, mildly\\nchaffing Kim, went through up to his knees, like\",\n \". He returned\\nalone, weeping, with news that young O'Hara, to whom he had been doing\\nnothing in particular, had hailed a scarlet-bearded nigger on\\nhorseback; that the nigger had then and there laid into him with a\\npeculiarly adhesive quirt, picked up young O'Hara, and borne him off at\\nfull gallop. These tidings came to Father Victor, and he drew down his\\nlong upper lip. He was already sufficiently startled by a letter from\\nthe Temple of the Tirthank\",\n \"finished\\nhis slumbers with a serene mind.\\n\\nIn the morning he was aware of Lurgan Sahib looking down on him.\\n\\n'Oah!' said Kim, firmly resolved to cling to his Sahib-dom. 'There\\nwas a box in the night that gave me bad talk. So I stopped it. Was it\\nyour box?'\\n\\nThe man held out his hand.\\n\\n'Shake hands, O'Hara,' he said. 'Yes, it was my box. I keep such\\nthings because my friends the\",\n \"Shake hands, O'Hara,' he said. 'Yes, it was my box. I keep such\\nthings because my friends the Rajahs like them. That one is broken,\\nbut it was cheap at the price. Yes, my friends, the Kings, are very\\nfond of toys--and so am I sometimes.'\\n\\nKim looked him over out of the corners of his eyes. He was a Sahib in\\nthat he wore Sahib's clothes; the accent of his Urdu, the intonation of\\nhis English, showed that\",\n \". Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached\\nthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white\\nmen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim\\ndid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful\\nwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was\\nhand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al\\nRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian\\nNights\",\n \"man.\\n\\n He was quick and quicker to learn--\\n Bold and bolder to dare:\\n He danced the dread Kloo-Kwallie Dance\\n To tickle Itswoot the Bear!\\n\\n Oregon Legend\\n\\n\\nKim flung himself whole-heartedly upon the next turn of the wheel. He\\nwould be a Sahib again for a while. In that idea, so soon as he had\\nreached the broad road under Simla Town Hall, he cast about for one to\\nimpress. A Hindu child, some ten\"\n ],\n [\n \"? I am only a boy. Wait till I am a man.' Then,\\nseeing the Colonel's brow clouded, he went on: 'But I think I should\\nin a few days earn the hundred rupees.'\\n\\n'By what road?'\\n\\nKim shook his head resolutely. 'If I said how I would earn them,\\nanother man might hear and forestall me. It is not good to sell\\nknowledge for nothing.'\\n\\n'Tell now.' The Colonel held up a rupee. Kim's hand half reached\",\n \"; I am\\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\\n\\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If\",\n \". Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached\\nthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white\\nmen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim\\ndid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful\\nwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was\\nhand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al\\nRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian\\nNights\",\n \"though he spoke the\\nvernacular by preference, and his mother-tongue in a clipped uncertain\\nsing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the\\nsmall boys of the bazar; Kim was white--a poor white of the very\\npoorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him (she smoked opium,\\nand pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the square where\\nthe cheap cabs wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother's\\nsister; but his mother had been nursemaid in\",\n \". So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\\nemployment.\\n\\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No\",\n \"eting, and not one fold of it could Kim refer to\\nany known trade or profession. At his belt hung a long open-work iron\\npencase and a wooden rosary such as holy men wear. On his head was a\\ngigantic sort of tam-o'-shanter. His face was yellow and wrinkled, like\\nthat of Fook Shing, the Chinese bootmaker in the bazar. His eyes\\nturned up at the corners and looked like little slits of onyx.\\n\\n'Who is that?' said Kim to his companions.\\n\",\n \" Alas! It is a great and terrible\\nworld.'\\n\\nKim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried his\\nown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck.\\nMahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his\\nEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,\\nmade him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the\",\n \"struck Kim--he\\nwould teach the boy to write in return for food. Kim had been kicked\\nas far as single letters, but did not think well of them.\\n\\n'I do not know anything. Go away!' said Kim, scenting evil. Hereupon\\nthe man caught him by the ear, dragged him to a room in a far-off wing\\nwhere a dozen drummer-boys were sitting on forms, and told him to be\\nstill if he could do nothing else. This he managed very successfully.\\nThe man explained something or other with white lines on a\",\n \"It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\\n\\n'Protector of the Poor!'\\n\\nThe man backed towards the voice.\\n\\n'Mahb\",\n \"not impress Kim as much as the knowledge that his raiment\\nwould tire him out if he tried to run. He slouched to the tree at the\\ncorner of a bare road leading towards the bazar, and eyed the natives\\npassing. Most of them were barrack-servants of the lowest caste. Kim\\nhailed a sweeper, who promptly retorted with a piece of unnecessary\\ninsolence, in the natural belief that the European boy could not follow\\nit. The low, quick answer undeceived him. Kim put his fettered\",\n \"street boy, and Kim stored it in a\\nsecret place under some baulks in Nila Ram's timber-yard, beyond the\\nPunjab High Court, where the fragrant deodar logs lie seasoning after\\nthey have driven down the Ravi. When there was business or frolic\\nafoot, Kim would use his properties, returning at dawn to the veranda,\\nall tired out from shouting at the heels of a marriage procession, or\\nyelling at a Hindu festival. Sometimes there was food in the house,\\nmore often there was not, and then Kim\",\n \"and Kim lay out behind the\\nlittle knot of Mahbub's followers, almost under the wheels of a\\nhorse-truck, a borrowed blanket for covering. Now a bed among\\nbrickbats and ballast-refuse on a damp night, between overcrowded\\nhorses and unwashed Baltis, would not appeal to many white boys; but\\nKim was utterly happy. Change of scene, service, and surroundings were\\nthe breath of his little nostrils, and thinking of the neat white cots\\nof St Xavier's all a\",\n \"a corner. The breezes\\nfanned over him, the parrots shrieked at him, the noises of the\\npopulated house behind--squabbles, orders, and reproofs--hit on dead\\nears.\\n\\n'I am Kim. I am Kim. And what is Kim?' His soul repeated it again\\nand again.\\n\\nHe did not want to cry--had never felt less like crying in his\\nlife--but of a sudden easy, stupid tears trickled down his nose, and\\nwith an almost audible click he felt the wheels of\",\n \"up and asked if Kim would accept his\\nhospitality for the night. The priest recommended him to do so, but\\ninsisted that the honour of entertaining the lama belonged to the\\ntemple--at which the lama smiled guilelessly. Kim glanced from one\\nface to the other, and drew his own conclusions.\\n\\n'Where is the money?' he whispered, beckoning the old man off into the\\ndarkness.\\n\\n'In my bosom. Where else?'\\n\\n'Give it me. Quietly and swiftly give it me.'\\n\",\n \"The woman sighed aloud, and Kim relented.\\n\\n'There is no payment till service has been rendered. Carry this to the\\nBabu, and say it was sent by the Son of the Charm.'\\n\\n'Ai! Truly! Truly! By a magician--who is like a Sahib.'\\n\\n'Nay, a Son of the Charm: and ask if there be any answer.'\\n\\n'But if he offer a rudeness? I--I am afraid.'\\n\\nKim laughed. 'He is,\",\n \"as he had\\nreached the broad road under Simla Town Hall, he cast about for one to\\nimpress. A Hindu child, some ten years old, squatted under a lamp-post.\\n\\n'Where is Mr Lurgan's house?' demanded Kim.\\n\\n'I do not understand English,' was the answer, and Kim shifted his\\nspeech accordingly.\\n\\n'I will show.'\\n\\nTogether they set off through the mysterious dusk, full of the noises\\nof a city below the hillside, and the breath of a cool wind in\\ndeodar\",\n \"\\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\\n\\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\\n\\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher\",\n \"\\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\\n\\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\\n\\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\\ntale of the thief and the search?'\\n\\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l\",\n \"know. He is not like other boys. Go and see. It is well\\nworth.'\\n\\nKim danced with impatience when the slim young Kayeth hove in sight.\\nAs soon as his voice could carry he cursed him volubly.\\n\\n'First I will take my pay,' the letter-writer said. 'Bad words have\\nmade the price higher. But who art thou, dressed in that fashion, to\\nspeak in this fashion?'\\n\\n'Aha! That is in the letter which thou shalt write. Never was such a\\n\",\n \"on ashes. The\\nevening patrol hurried out of the police-station with important\\ncoughings and reiterated orders; and a live charcoal ball in the cup of\\na wayside carter's hookah glowed red while Kim's eye mechanically\\nwatched the last flicker of the sun on the brass tweezers.\\n\\nThe life of the parao was very like that of the Kashmir Serai on a\\nsmall scale. Kim dived into the happy Asiatic disorder which, if you\\nonly allow time, will bring you everything that a\"\n ],\n [\n \"Then Mahbub Ali rolled across the serai to the Gate of the Harpies who\\npaint their eyes and trap the stranger, and was at some pains to call\\non the one girl who, he had reason to believe, was a particular friend\\nof a smooth-faced Kashmiri pundit who had waylaid his simple Balti in\\nthe matter of the telegrams. It was an utterly foolish thing to do;\\nbecause they fell to drinking perfumed brandy against the Law of the\\nProphet, and Mahbub grew wonderfully drunk, and the gates of\",\n \" Mahbub gave the money.\\n\\n'Rememberest thou the little business of the thieves in the dark, down\\nyonder at Umballa?'\\n\\n'Seeing they sought my life, I have not altogether forgotten. Why?'\\n\\n'Rememberest thou the Kashmir Serai?'\\n\\n'I will twist thy ears in a moment--Sahib.'\\n\\n'No need--Pathan. Only, the second fakir, whom the Sahibs beat\\nsenseless, was the man who came to search thy bulkhead at Lah\",\n \"'What talk is this of us, Sahib?' Mahbub Ali returned, in the tone he\\nused towards Europeans. 'I am a Pathan; thou art a Sahib and the son\\nof a Sahib. Lurgan Sahib has a shop among the European shops. All\\nSimla knows it. Ask there ... and, Friend of all the World, he is one\\nto be obeyed to the last wink of his eyelashes. Men say he does magic,\\nbut that should not touch thee. Go up the hill\",\n \"Mahbub's palm on his heart.\\n\\n'Hi! Mahbub, you old villain, pull up!' cried a voice, and an\\nEnglishman raced alongside on a little polo-pony. 'I've been chasing\\nyou half over the country. That Kabuli of yours can go. For sale, I\\nsuppose?'\\n\\n'I have some young stuff coming on made by Heaven for the delicate and\\ndifficult polo-game. He has no equal. He--'\\n\\n'Plays polo and wait\",\n \"have outmanoeuvred an\\nenemy, but as Mahbub Ali cleared his throat, tightened his belt, and\\nstaggered forth under the early morning stars, he came very near to it.\\n\\n'What a colt's trick!' said he to himself. 'As if every girl in\\nPeshawur did not use it! But 'twas prettily done. Now God He knows\\nhow many more there be upon the Road who have orders to test\\nme--perhaps with the knife. So it stands that the boy must go to\\n\",\n \"from\\nher lap. 'I earn my money. Farrukh Shah is a bear, Ali Beg a\\nswashbuckler, and old Sikandar Khan--yaie! Go! I sleep now. This\\nswine will not stir till dawn.'\\n\\nWhen Mahbub woke, the Flower talked to him severely on the sin of\\ndrunkenness. Asiatics do not wink when they have outmanoeuvred an\\nenemy, but as Mahbub Ali cleared his throat, tightened his belt, and\\nstaggered forth\",\n \",\\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\\n\\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\\nevery time he\",\n \"Mahbub Ali's sake. Meantime, there was the present, and not at\\nall unpleasant, fact of St Xavier's immediately before him. There\\nwould be new boys to condescend to, and there would be tales of holiday\\nadventures to hear. Young Martin, son of the tea-planter at Manipur,\\nhad boasted that he would go to war, with a rifle, against the\\nhead-hunters.\\n\\nThat might be, but it was certain young Martin had not been blown half\\nacross the forecourt of\",\n \"as the people do whom he watches, he may be slain. Why\\nhinder him now? Remember how the Persians say: The jackal that lives\\nin the wilds of Mazanderan can only be caught by the hounds of\\nMazanderan.'\\n\\n'True. It is true, Mahbub Ali. And if he comes to no harm, I do not\\ndesire anything better. But it is great insolence on his part.'\\n\\n'He does not tell me, even, whither he goes,' said Mahbub. 'He\",\n \"Mahbub Ali raised his voice.\\n\\n'Allah! Art thou the only beggar in the city? Thy mother is dead. Thy\\nfather is dead. So is it with all of them. Well, well--'\\n\\nHe turned as feeling on the floor beside him and tossed a flap of soft,\\ngreasy Mussalman bread to the boy. 'Go and lie down among my horseboys\\nfor tonight--thou and the lama. Tomorrow I may give thee service.'\\n\\nKim slunk away, his teeth in\",\n \" They send me to a school and beat me.\\nI do not like the air and water here. Come then and help me, Mahbub\\nAli, or send me some money, for I have not sufficient to pay the writer\\nwho writes this.'\\n\\n'\\\"Who writes this.\\\" It is my own fault that I was tricked. Thou art\\nas clever as Husain Bux that forged the Treasury stamps at Nucklao.\\nBut what a tale! What a tale! Is it true by any chance?'\\n\\n'It does not profit to tell lies\",\n \"Friend of all the World,' said Mahbub, pushing over the pipe for the\\nboy to clean, 'I have met many men, women, and boys, and not a few\\nSahibs. I have never in all my days met such an imp as thou art.'\\n\\n'And why? When I always tell thee the truth.'\\n\\n'Perhaps the very reason, for this is a world of danger to honest men.'\\nMahbub Ali hauled himself off the ground, girt in his belt, and went\\nover to the horses.\\n\\n'Or sell\",\n \"full search into his saddlebags and between the soles of his\\nslippers. Is that news to tell to the Colonel, or would he say to\\nme--(I have not forgotten when he sent me back for a cigar-case that he\\nhad not left behind him)--\\\"What is Mahbub Ali to me?\\\"?'\\n\\nUp went a gout of heavy smoke. There was a long pause: then Mahbub\\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahib\",\n \"remembered the conversation in the train, and\\noften in the past few months had caught himself thinking of the queer,\\nsilent, self-possessed boy. His evasion, of course, was the height of\\ninsolence, but it argued some resource and nerve.\\n\\nMahbub's eyes twinkled as he reined out into the centre of the cramped\\nlittle plain, where none could come near unseen.\\n\\n'\\\"The Friend of the Stars, who is the Friend of all the World--\\\"'\\n\\n'What is this?'\\n\\n'A name\",\n \" But as regards Lutuf Ullah--a tall man\\nwith a broken nose, and a Persian greyhound Aie!'\\n\\nThe boy had hurried off to wake up a young and enthusiastic policeman;\\nfor, as he said, the Railway had suffered much from depredations in the\\ngoods-yard. Mahbub Ali chuckled in his dyed beard.\\n\\n'They will walk in their boots, making a noise, and then they will\\nwonder why there are no fakirs. They are very clever boys--Barton\\nSahib\",\n \"Sahib, always a Sahib. When thou art a man--who knows?--thou wilt be\\ngrateful to Mahbub Ali.'\\n\\n'Take me beyond their sentries where I can change this red. Give me\\nmoney and I will go to Benares and be with my lama again. I do not\\nwant to be a Sahib, and remember I did deliver that message.'\\n\\nThe stallion bounded wildly. Mahbub Ali had incautiously driven home\\nthe sharp-edged stirrup. (He was\",\n \"\\n\\n'At least Mahbub knows,' he thought contentedly. 'And certainly he\\nspoke as one expecting it. I do not think those two men will profit by\\ntonight's watch.'\\n\\nAn hour passed, and, with the best will in the world to keep awake all\\nnight, he slept deeply. Now and again a night train roared along the\\nmetals within twenty feet of him; but he had all the Oriental's\\nindifference to mere noise, and it did not even weave a dream through\\nhis slumber.\\n\\nMahb\",\n \"in his\\nbosom.\\n\\n'That soldier is a small fish,' Mahbub Ali explained, 'but in time we\\nshall catch the larger one. He only sells oxen at two prices--one for\\nhimself and one for the Government--which I do not think is a sin.'\\n\\n'Why could not I take away the little book and be done with it?'\\n\\n'Then he would have been frightened, and he would have told his master.\\nThen we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seek\\ntheir way up from Quetta to\",\n \"to come to hand. However, God\\nwas great, and Mahbub Ali felt he had done all he could for the time\\nbeing. Kim was the one soul in the world who had never told him a lie.\\nThat would have been a fatal blot on Kim's character if Mahbub had not\\nknown that to others, for his own ends or Mahbub's business, Kim could\\nlie like an Oriental.\\n\\nThen Mahbub Ali rolled across the serai to the Gate of the Harpies who\\npaint their eyes and trap the stranger, and was at\",\n \"y, Mahbub. And where is he?'\\n\\n'Selling horses in this vi-cinity, of course.'\\n\\n'Here! Why? Speak slowly. There is a thickness in my head still.'\\n\\nThe Babu looked shyly down his nose. 'Well, you see, I am fearful man,\\nand I do not like responsibility. You were sick, you see, and I did\\nnot know where deuce-an'-all the papers were, and if so, how many. So\\nwhen I had come down here I slipped\"\n ],\n [\n \"the Lung-Cho Monastery--gave it me,' stammered the lama. 'He spoke\\nof these.' His lean hand moved tremulously round.\\n\\n'Welcome, then, O lama from Tibet. Here be the images, and I am\\nhere'--he glanced at the lama's face--'to gather knowledge. Come to my\\noffice awhile.' The old man was trembling with excitement.\\n\\nThe office was but a little wooden cubicle partitioned off from the\\nsculpture-lined gallery. Kim laid himself\",\n \"know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing.\\nVillages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, for\\nnot only has the lama given them blessings, but his disciple good\\nmoney--full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve miles a day has the dooli\\ntravelled, as the greasy, rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few\\nSahibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dust\\nfilled every fold of the imp\",\n \"\\nbeyond marvels.'\\n\\n'I have written it for many years,' said the lama. 'Time was when I\\ncould write it all between one lamp-lighting and the next. I will\\nteach thee the art--after due preparation; and I will show thee the\\nmeaning of the Wheel.'\\n\\n'We take the Road, then?'\\n\\n'The Road and our Search. I was but waiting for thee. It was made\\nplain to me in a hundred dreams--notably one that came upon the night\\nof the day that the\",\n \"\\nThe lama held his peace. Except for the click of the rosary and a\\nfaint clop-clop of Mahbub's retreating feet, the soft, smoky silence of\\nevening in India wrapped them close.\\n\\n'Hear me! I bring news.'\\n\\n'But let us--'\\n\\nOut shot the long yellow hand compelling silence. Kim tucked his feet\\nunder his robe-edge obediently.\\n\\n'Hear me! I bring news! The Search is finished. Comes now the\\nR\",\n \"\\n'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more.\\nHe says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants to\\nbe washed of his sins.'\\n\\nNeither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready.\\n\\nSaid Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you\\nwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will\\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\\nhere to find the Red Bull\",\n \"'Yes--and no,' the lama replied. 'We--we have not altogether parted,\\nbut the time is not ripe that we should take the Road together. He\\nacquires wisdom in another place. We must wait.'\\n\\n'All one--but if it were not the boy how did he come to speak so\\ncontinually of thee?'\\n\\n'And what said he?' asked the lama eagerly.\\n\\n'Sweet words--an hundred thousand--that thou art his father and mother\\nand such all. Pity that he does not take\",\n \"-caught forms and faces and shadows. The voices of early evening\\nhad settled down to one soothing hum whose deepest note was the steady\\nchumping of the bullocks above their chopped straw, and whose highest\\nwas the tinkle of a Bengali dancing-girl's sitar. Most men had eaten\\nand pulled deep at their gurgling, grunting hookahs, which in full\\nblast sound like bull-frogs.\\n\\nAt last the lama returned. A hillman walked behind him with a wadded\\ncotton-quilt and spread\",\n \"But this was used for the initiation of a novice. Tell him so, hakim.'\\n\\n'He wishes it now--for money.'\\n\\nThe lama shook his head slowly and began to fold up the Wheel. The\\nRussian, on his side, saw no more than an unclean old man haggling over\\na dirty piece of paper. He drew out a handful of rupees, and snatched\\nhalf-jestingly at the chart, which tore in the lama's grip. A low\\nmurmur of horror went up from the\",\n \"my bones, waiting. The Search is\\nsure!'\\n\\n'I am answered. Is it permitted to ask a question?'\\n\\nThe lama inclined his stately head.\\n\\n'I ate thy bread for three years--as thou knowest. Holy One, whence\\ncame--?'\\n\\n'There is much wealth, as men count it, in Bhotiyal,' the lama returned\\nwith composure. 'In my own place I have the illusion of honour. I ask\\nfor that I need. I am not concerned with the account. That is for my\\n\",\n \"ore all the weight of it--the burden of an old man, the burden of the\\nheavy food-bag with the locked books, the load of the writings on his\\nheart, and the details of the daily routine. He begged in the dawn,\\nset blankets for the lama's meditation, held the weary head on his lap\\nthrough the noonday heats, fanning away the flies till his wrists\\nached, begged again in the evenings, and rubbed the lama's feet, who\\nrewarded him with promise of Freedom--today,\",\n \"archbishop\\nwould pawn the holy vessels of his cathedral. All Tibet is full of\\ncheap reproductions of the Wheel; but the lama was an artist, as well\\nas a wealthy Abbot in his own place.\\n\\n'Perhaps in three days, or four, or ten, if I perceive that the Sahib\\nis a Seeker and of good understanding, I may myself draw him another.\\nBut this was used for the initiation of a novice. Tell him so, hakim.'\\n\\n'He wishes it now--for money\",\n \"at his eyes--hollow and sunk--and the Betraying Line from the nose\\ndown! He has been sifted out! Fie! Fie! And a priest, too!'\\n\\nKim looked up, over-weary to smile, shaking his head in denial.\\n\\n'Do not jest,' said the lama. 'That time is done. We are here upon\\ngreat matters. A sickness of soul took me in the Hills, and him a\\nsickness of the body. Since then I have lived upon his\\n\",\n \"acquired merit,' says the lama. 'Merit greater than your\\nknowing. And ye will return to the Hills,' he sighs.\\n\\n'Surely. The high Hills as soon as may be.' The bearer rubs his\\nshoulder, drinks water, spits it out again, and readjusts his grass\\nsandal. Kim--his face is drawn and tired--pays very small silver from\\nhis belt, heaves out the food-bag, crams an oilskin packet--they are\\nholy writings--into his bosom, and\",\n \"'And if you\\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\\nto interfere.'\\n\\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\\nwatched the lama's face.\\n\\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by\",\n \"?'\\n\\n'Why should I regard? I remember the hakim was concerned for the body\\nof Teshoo Lama. He haled it out of the holy water in his hands, and\\nthere came afterwards thy horse-seller from the North with a cot and\\nmen, and they put the body on the cot and bore it up to the Sahiba's\\nhouse.'\\n\\n'What said the Sahiba?'\\n\\n'I was meditating in that body, and did not hear. So thus the Search\\nis ended. For the merit that I have\",\n \"\\n\\n'In my bosom. Where else?'\\n\\n'Give it me. Quietly and swiftly give it me.'\\n\\n'But why? Here is no ticket to buy.'\\n\\n'Am I thy chela, or am I not? Do I not safeguard thy old feet about\\nthe ways? Give me the money and at dawn I will return it.' He slipped\\nhis hand above the lama's girdle and brought away the purse.\\n\\n'Be it so--be it so.' The old man nodded his head.\",\n \"res the lama, a little thinner and a shade yellower,\\nif that were possible, but gentle and untainted as ever. Sometimes it\\nwas from the South that he came--from south of Tuticorin, whence the\\nwonderful fire-boats go to Ceylon where are priests who know Pali;\\nsometimes it was from the wet green West and the thousand\\ncotton-factory chimneys that ring Bombay; and once from the North,\\nwhere he had doubled back eight hundred miles to talk for a day with\\nthe Keeper of the\",\n \"The books of my lamassery I read, and they were dried\\npith; and the later ritual with which we of the Reformed Law have\\ncumbered ourselves--that, too, had no worth to these old eyes. Even\\nthe followers of the Excellent One are at feud on feud with one\\nanother. It is all illusion. Ay, maya, illusion. But I have another\\ndesire'--the seamed yellow face drew within three inches of the\\nCurator, and the long forefinger-nail tapped on the table. 'Your\",\n \"whereas he was but a growing lad\\nfaint with emptiness.\\n\\nLong and formal were the farewells, thrice ended and thrice renewed.\\nThe Seeker--he who had invited the lama to that haven from far-away\\nTibet, a silver-faced, hairless ascetic--took no part in it, but\\nmeditated, as always, alone among the images. The others were very\\nhuman; pressing small comforts upon the old man--a betel-box, a fine\\nnew iron pencase, a food-bag, and such\",\n \"be,' said the lama. 'He has gone back to his own people.'\\n\\n'He sat in that corner telling a hundred merry tales five nights ago,'\\nhis host insisted. 'True, he vanished somewhat suddenly in the dawn\\nafter foolish talk with my granddaughter. He grows apace, but he is\\nthe same Friend of the Stars as brought me true word of the war. Have\\nye parted?'\\n\\n'Yes--and no,' the lama replied. 'We--we have not altogether parted,\\nbut the time is not ripe that we\"\n ],\n [\n \",\\nbecause he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is\\nmadder than most other Sahibs.'\\n\\n'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small\\nknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given\\ninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.\\nThe Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him\\ntalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did\\nevery time he\",\n \"\\nAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou\\nlie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the\\nmadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'\\n\\n'It is an order,' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'\\n\\n'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is this\\ntale of the thief and the search?'\\n\\n'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my l\",\n \": I have seen them. Give me a\\nrupee, Mahbub Ali, and when I come to my wealth I will give thee a bond\\nand pay.'\\n\\n'Um!' said Mahbub Ali, thinking swiftly. 'Thou hast never before lied\\nto me. Call that lama--stand back in the dark.'\\n\\n'Oh, our tales will agree,' said Kim, laughing.\\n\\n'We go to Benares,' said the lama, as soon as he understood the drift\\nof Mahbub Ali's questions. \",\n \"least. I sent him to deliver a message\\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\\nstallion.'\\n\\nHere was deadly insult on deadlier injury--and the Sahib to whom he had\\nso craftily given that war-waking letter heard it all. Kim beheld\\nMahbub Ali frying in flame for his treachery, but for himself he saw\\none long grey vista of barracks, schools, and barracks again. He gazed\\nimploringly at the clear-cut face in which there was\",\n \"it is time to go again to Nucklao.'\\n\\n'I had sooner lodge with thee, Mahbub.'\\n\\n'Thou dost not know the honour. Lurgan Sahib himself asked for thee.\\nThou wilt go up the hill and along the road atop, and there thou must\\nforget for a while that thou hast ever seen or spoken to me, Mahbub\\nAli, who sells horses to Creighton Sahib, whom thou dost not know.\\nRemember this order.'\\n\\nKim nodded. '\",\n \" Alas! It is a great and terrible\\nworld.'\\n\\nKim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried his\\nown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck.\\nMahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his\\nEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,\\nmade him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the\",\n \"and beat his hand on his thigh.\\n\\n'Shabash! Shabash! Oh, well done, little one! What will the healer\\nof turquoises say to this? Now, slowly, let us hear what befell\\nafterwards--step by step, omitting nothing.'\\n\\nStep by step then, Kim told his adventures between coughs as the\\nfull-flavoured tobacco caught his lungs.\\n\\n'I said,' growled Mahbub Ali to himself, 'I said it was the pony\\nbreaking out to play polo. The\",\n \"and the big burly Afghan,\\nhis beard dyed scarlet with lime (for he was elderly and did not wish\\nhis grey hairs to show), knew the boy's value as a gossip. Sometimes\\nhe would tell Kim to watch a man who had nothing whatever to do with\\nhorses: to follow him for one whole day and report every soul with\\nwhom he talked. Kim would deliver himself of his tale at evening, and\\nMahbub would listen without a word or gesture. It was intrigue of some\\nkind, Kim knew; but its worth\",\n \"to come to hand. However, God\\nwas great, and Mahbub Ali felt he had done all he could for the time\\nbeing. Kim was the one soul in the world who had never told him a lie.\\nThat would have been a fatal blot on Kim's character if Mahbub had not\\nknown that to others, for his own ends or Mahbub's business, Kim could\\nlie like an Oriental.\\n\\nThen Mahbub Ali rolled across the serai to the Gate of the Harpies who\\npaint their eyes and trap the stranger, and was at\",\n \"?' The Englishman switched at the rose-hedge in\\nthe side of the drive.\\n\\n'Mahbub Ali has given me this proof.' Kim flipped the wad of folded\\npaper into the air, and it fell in the path beside the man, who put his\\nfoot on it as a gardener came round the corner. When the servant passed\\nhe picked it up, dropped a rupee--Kim could hear the clink--and strode\\ninto the house, never turning round. Swiftly Kim took up the money;\\nbut for all his training,\",\n \"othed by the promise.\\n\\n'Is he not quite mad?' said Kim, coming forward to the light again.\\n'Why should I lie to thee, Hajji?'\\n\\nMahbub puffed his hookah in silence. Then he began, almost whispering:\\n'Umballa is on the road to Benares--if indeed ye two go there.'\\n\\n'Tck! Tck! I tell thee he does not know how to lie--as we two know.'\\n\\n'And if thou wilt carry a message for me as far as\",\n \"\\nhere.'\\n\\n'And this is known to me also,' said Kim, readjusting the live\\ncharcoal-ball on the weed. 'It is a very sure tie between us. Indeed,\\nthy hold is surer even than mine; for who would miss a boy beaten to\\ndeath, or, it may be, thrown into a well by the roadside? Most people\\nhere and in Simla and across the passes behind the Hills would, on the\\nother hand, say: \\\"What has come to Mahbub Ali?\\\" if he were found dead\\namong his horses\",\n \"Allah on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub heartily, and\\nclimbed into his own stall, growling in his beard.\\n\\nBut it was Kim who had wakened the lama--Kim with one eye laid against\\na knot-hole in the planking, who had seen the Delhi man's search\\nthrough the boxes. This was no common thief that turned over letters,\\nbills, and saddles--no mere burglar who ran a little knife sideways\\ninto the soles of Mahbub's slippers\",\n \"'I do not think it is often that\\na Sahib and the son of a Sahib runs away from there.'\\n\\n'How should they? They do not know the land. It was nothing,' said\\nKim, and began his tale. When he came to the disguisement and the\\ninterview with the girl in the bazar, Mahbub Ali's gravity went from\\nhim. He laughed aloud and beat his hand on his thigh.\\n\\n'Shabash! Shabash! Oh, well done, little one! What will\",\n \"\\n'I said,' growled Mahbub Ali to himself, 'I said it was the pony\\nbreaking out to play polo. The fruit is ripe already--except that he\\nmust learn his distances and his pacings, and his rods and his\\ncompasses. Listen now. I have turned aside the Colonel's whip from\\nthy skin, and that is no small service.'\\n\\n'True.' Kim pulled serenely. 'That is true.'\\n\\n'But it is not to be thought that this running out and in is any way\\ngood.'\",\n \"\\nMahbub Ali hauled himself off the ground, girt in his belt, and went\\nover to the horses.\\n\\n'Or sell it?'\\n\\nThere was that in the tone that made Mahbub halt and turn. 'What new\\ndevilry?'\\n\\n'Eight annas, and I will tell,' said Kim, grinning. 'It touches thy\\npeace.'\\n\\n'O Shaitan!' Mahbub gave the money.\\n\\n'Rememberest thou the little business of the thieves in the dark, down\\nyonder at\",\n \"went over to the railway station in charge of a\\nfoolish Balti, who allowed all sorts of people to read them on the road.\\n\\nWhen, in Mahbub's own picturesque language, he had muddied the wells of\\ninquiry with the stick of precaution, Kim had dropped on him, sent from\\nHeaven; and, being as prompt as he was unscrupulous, Mahbub Ali used to\\ntaking all sorts of gusty chances, pressed him into service on the spot.\\n\\nA wandering lama with a low-caste\",\n \". It needed only to say to that man, \\\"I\\nhave here a paper concerning a horse which I cannot read.\\\" And then?'\\nKim peered at Mahbub under his eyebrows.\\n\\n'Then thou wouldst have drunk water twice--perhaps thrice, afterwards.\\nI do not think more than thrice,' said Mahbub simply.\\n\\n'It is true. I thought of that a little, but most I thought that I\\nloved thee, Mahbub. Therefore I went to Umballa, as thou knowest, but\\n(and this\",\n \"\\nMahbub hired a room over against the railway station, sent for a cooked\\nmeal of the finest with the almond-curd sweet-meats [balushai we call\\nit] and fine-chopped Lucknow tobacco.\\n\\n'This is better than some other meat that I ate with the Sikh,' said\\nKim, grinning as he squatted, 'and assuredly they give no such victuals\\nat my madrissah.'\\n\\n'I have a desire to hear of that same madrissah.' Mahbub stuffed\\nhimself with\",\n \"me to captivity.'\\n\\n'Small wonder the Padre does not know how to unravel the thread. How\\nfast he talks to the Colonel Sahib!' Mahbub Ali chuckled. 'By Allah!'\\nthe keen eyes swept the veranda for an Instant--'thy lama has sent what\\nto me looks like a note of hand. I have had some few dealings in\\nhoondis. The Colonel Sahib is looking at it.'\\n\\n'What good is all this to me?' said Kim wearily. 'Thou wilt\"\n ],\n [\n \"because he was an old man, because he sought the\\nWay, because he was their guest, and because he collogued long of\\nnights with the head-priest--as free-thinking a metaphysician as ever\\nsplit one hair into seventy--they murmured assent.\\n\\n'Remember,'--Kim bent over the child--. 'this trouble may come again.'\\n\\n'Not if thou hast the proper spell,' said the father.\\n\\n'But in a little while we go away.'\\n\\n'True,' said the lama to all the Jains\",\n \"pressed to stay, the lama insisted on\\ndeparture. They gave Kim a large bundle of good food and nearly three\\nannas in copper money for the needs of the road, and with many\\nblessings watched the two go southward in the dawn.\\n\\n'Pity it is that these and such as these could not be freed from--'\\n\\n'Nay, then would only evil people be left on the earth, and who would\\ngive us meat and shelter?' quoth Kim, stepping merrily under his\\nburden.\\n\\n'Yonder is a small\",\n \"drawn.'\\n\\n'And his to thine, I hear. Hearts are like horses. They come and they\\ngo against bit or spur. Shout Gul Sher Khan yonder to drive in that\\nbay stallion's pickets more firmly. We do not want a horse-fight at\\nevery resting-stage, and the dun and the black will be locked in a\\nlittle ... Now hear me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart\\nto see that lama?'\\n\\n'It is one part of my bond,' said Kim\",\n \"and the money upon a paper and give it\\nhim.\\\" And he says you must write your name below, because he is going\\nto write a letter in some days to you. He says you are a good man. He\\nsays the other man is a fool. He is going away.'\\n\\nThe lama rose suddenly. 'I follow my Search,' he cried, and was gone.\\n\\n'He'll run slap into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as\\nthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim\",\n \"times for 'conversing with improper persons',\\nand it seems that he was once sentenced to heavy pains for 'absenting\\nhimself for a day in the company of a street beggar'. That was when he\\ngot over the gate and pleaded with the lama through a whole day down\\nthe banks of the Gumti to accompany him on the Road next holidays--for\\none month--for a little week; and the lama set his face as a flint\\nagainst it, averring that the time had not yet come. Kim's business,\\ns\",\n \"me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart\\nto see that lama?'\\n\\n'It is one part of my bond,' said Kim. 'If I do not see him, and if he\\nis taken from me, I will go out of that madrissah in Nucklao and,\\nand--once gone, who is to find me again?'\\n\\n'It is true. Never was colt held on a lighter heel-rope than thou.'\\nMahbub nodded his head.\\n\\n'Do not be afraid.' Kim spoke as though he\",\n \"at his eyes--hollow and sunk--and the Betraying Line from the nose\\ndown! He has been sifted out! Fie! Fie! And a priest, too!'\\n\\nKim looked up, over-weary to smile, shaking his head in denial.\\n\\n'Do not jest,' said the lama. 'That time is done. We are here upon\\ngreat matters. A sickness of soul took me in the Hills, and him a\\nsickness of the body. Since then I have lived upon his\\n\",\n \"\\nwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away this\\nnight, for all I wanted to see the new things.'\\n\\nKim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating\\nthe replies to the lama.\\n\\nThen: 'He says, \\\"You take him from me and you cannot say what you will\\nmake him.\\\" He says, \\\"Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing\\nto make a child.\\\"'\\n\\n'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see\",\n \"their tickets in all sorts of curious places. Kim produced his and was\\ntold to get out.\\n\\n'But I go to Umballa,' he protested. 'I go with this holy man.'\\n\\n'Thou canst go to Jehannum for aught I care. This ticket is only--'\\n\\nKim burst into a flood of tears, protesting that the lama was his\\nfather and his mother, that he was the prop of the lama's declining\\nyears, and that the lama would die without his care. All the\",\n \"up and asked if Kim would accept his\\nhospitality for the night. The priest recommended him to do so, but\\ninsisted that the honour of entertaining the lama belonged to the\\ntemple--at which the lama smiled guilelessly. Kim glanced from one\\nface to the other, and drew his own conclusions.\\n\\n'Where is the money?' he whispered, beckoning the old man off into the\\ndarkness.\\n\\n'In my bosom. Where else?'\\n\\n'Give it me. Quietly and swiftly give it me.'\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n'But I see now that he was but sent for a purpose. By this I know that\\nI shall find a certain River for which I seek.'\\n\\n'The River of the Arrow?' said Kim, with a superior smile.\\n\\n'Is this yet another Sending?' cried the lama. 'To none have I spoken\\nof my search, save to the Priest of the Images. Who art thou?'\\n\\n'Thy chela,' said Kim simply, sitting on his heels. 'I have never seen\\nanyone like to thee in all this\",\n \"\\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\\n\\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\\n\\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher\",\n \"while, I do not see that we in\\nany way depart from our Search if so be we accompany her--at least as\\nfar as--I have forgotten the name of the city.'\\n\\n'Ohe!' said Kim, turning and speaking in a sharp whisper to one of the\\nOoryas a few yards away. 'Where is your master's house?'\\n\\n'A little behind Saharunpore, among the fruit gardens.' He named the\\nvillage.\\n\\n'That was the place,' said the lama. 'So far, at least, we\",\n \"into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as\\nthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim made swift\\nmotion to follow, but checked himself. There was no sound of challenge\\noutside. The lama had disappeared.\\n\\nKim settled himself composedly on the Chaplain's cot. At least the\\nlama had promised that he would stay with the Raiput woman from Kulu,\\nand the rest was of the smallest importance. It pleased him that the\\ntwo padres were so evidently excited.\",\n \"God. Yes, once I made music on a\\npianno in the Mission-house at Kotgarh. Now I give alms to priests who\\nare heatthen.' She wound up with the English word, and tied the mouth\\nof the brimming bag.\\n\\n'I wait for thee, chela,' said the lama, leaning against the door-post.\\n\\nThe woman swept the tall figure with her eyes. 'He walk! He cannot\\ncover half a mile. Whither would old bones go?'\\n\\nAt this Kim, already perplexed by\",\n \"'This is where the fire-carriages come. One stands behind that\\nhole'--Kim pointed to the ticket-office--'who will give thee a paper to\\ntake thee to Umballa.'\\n\\n'But we go to Benares,' he replied petulantly.\\n\\n'All one. Benares then. Quick: she comes!'\\n\\n'Take thou the purse.'\\n\\nThe lama, not so well used to trains as he had pretended, started as\\nthe 3.25 a.m. south-bound ro\",\n \"There was no sign of Kim or the lama.\\n\\n'Up!' He stirred a sleeper. 'Whither went those who lay here last\\neven--the lama and the boy? Is aught missing?'\\n\\n'Nay,' grunted the man, 'the old madman rose at second cockcrow saying\\nhe would go to Benares, and the young one led him away.'\\n\\n'The curse of Allah on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub heartily, and\\nclimbed into his own stall, growling in his\",\n \"will give him strength. Make a\\ncharm! Call on thy great God. Thou art a priest.' She turned away.\\n\\nThe lama had squatted limply, still holding by the door-post. One\\ncannot strike down an old man that he recovers again like a boy in the\\nnight. Weakness bowed him to the earth, but his eyes that hung on Kim\\nwere alive and imploring.\\n\\n'It is all well,' said Kim. 'It is the thin air that weakens thee. In\\na little while\",\n \"mother, that he was the prop of the lama's declining\\nyears, and that the lama would die without his care. All the carriage\\nbade the guard be merciful--the banker was specially eloquent here--but\\nthe guard hauled Kim on to the platform. The lama blinked--he could\\nnot overtake the situation and Kim lifted up his voice and wept outside\\nthe carriage window.\\n\\n'I am very poor. My father is dead--my mother is dead. O charitable\\nones, if I am left here, who\",\n \"would have picked thy bones within ten mile of Lahore city\\nif I had not guarded thee.'\\n\\n'I consider in my own mind whether thou art a spirit, sometimes, or\\nsometimes an evil imp,' said the lama, smiling slowly.\\n\\n'I am thy chela.' Kim dropped into step at his side--that\\nindescribable gait of the long-distance tramp all the world over.\\n\\n'Now let us walk,' muttered the lama, and to the click of his rosary\\nthey walked in silence mile upon mile. The l\"\n ],\n [\n \"; I am\\nKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' He\\nconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till his\\nhead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl\\nof India, going southward to he knew not what fate.\\n\\nPresently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If\",\n \"of\\nthis, for he began to understand where examinations led.\\n\\nThen came the holidays from August to October--the long holidays\\nimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would go\\nnorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor\\nwould arrange for him.\\n\\n'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thought\\nmore.\\n\\n'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm to\\nkeep you out of mischief. You\",\n \"\\nwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away this\\nnight, for all I wanted to see the new things.'\\n\\nKim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating\\nthe replies to the lama.\\n\\nThen: 'He says, \\\"You take him from me and you cannot say what you will\\nmake him.\\\" He says, \\\"Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing\\nto make a child.\\\"'\\n\\n'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see\",\n \"Oah! I tell you we are all proud of you. It was verree neat and\\nhandy. Our mutual friend, he is old friend of mine. He has been in\\nsome dam'-tight places. Now he will be in some more. He told me; I\\ntell Mr Lurgan; and he is pleased you graduate so nicely. All the\\nDepartment is pleased.'\\n\\nFor the first time in his life, Kim thrilled to the clean pride (it can\\nbe a deadly pitfall, none the less) of Departmental praise--ens\",\n \"a corner. The breezes\\nfanned over him, the parrots shrieked at him, the noises of the\\npopulated house behind--squabbles, orders, and reproofs--hit on dead\\nears.\\n\\n'I am Kim. I am Kim. And what is Kim?' His soul repeated it again\\nand again.\\n\\nHe did not want to cry--had never felt less like crying in his\\nlife--but of a sudden easy, stupid tears trickled down his nose, and\\nwith an almost audible click he felt the wheels of\",\n \"a hand to show that the matter was finally settled in\\nhis mind.\\n\\n'Now,'--his tone altered as he turned to Kim,--'what will they do with\\nthee? At least I may, acquiring merit, wipe out past ill.'\\n\\n'Make me a Sahib--so they think. The day after tomorrow I return. Do\\nnot grieve.'\\n\\n'Of what sort? Such an one as this or that man?' He pointed to Father\\nVictor. 'Such an one as those I saw this evening, men wearing sw\",\n \"meal at Kalka, he spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school?\\nThen he, an M A of Calcutta University, would explain the advantages of\\neducation. There were marks to be gained by due attention to Latin and\\nWordsworth's Excursion (all this was Greek to Kim). French, too was\\nvital, and the best was to be picked up in Chandernagore a few miles\\nfrom Calcutta. Also a man might go far, as he himself had done, by\\nstrict attention to plays called Lear and Julius\",\n \"gan's impassive face changed. He considered the years\\nto come when Kim would have been entered and made to the Great Game\\nthat never ceases day and night, throughout India. He foresaw honour\\nand credit in the mouths of a chosen few, coming to him from his pupil.\\nLurgan Sahib had made E.23 what E.23 was, out of a bewildered,\\nimpertinent, lying, little North-West Province man.\\n\\nBut the joy of these masters was pale and smoky beside the joy of Kim\\n\",\n \"him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet and\\nswaddle him in these clothes. Then he will forget all he knows. Now,\\nwhich of the barracks is thine?'\\n\\nKim pointed--he could not speak--to Father Victor's wing, all staring\\nwhite near by.\\n\\n'Perhaps he will make a good soldier,' said Mahbub reflectively.\\n\\n'He will make a good orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a message\\nonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a white\\nstallion\",\n \"him to be\\nstill if he could do nothing else. This he managed very successfully.\\nThe man explained something or other with white lines on a black board\\nfor at least half an hour, and Kim continued his interrupted nap. He\\nmuch disapproved of the present aspect of affairs, for this was the\\nvery school and discipline he had spent two-thirds of his young life in\\navoiding. Suddenly a beautiful idea occurred to him, and he wondered\\nthat he had not thought of it before.\\n\\nThe man dismissed them, and first to spring through the veranda into\",\n \"\\nand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an\\nextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.\\n\\n'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!\\nOh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with a\\nbackward jerk of his bare heel.\\n\\n'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now\\nhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher\",\n \". So far\\nas Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey of\\nIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the proper\\nexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen\\nyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable\\nemployment.\\n\\nKim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this\\ntalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and\\npicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No\",\n \"is great insolence on his part.'\\n\\n'He does not tell me, even, whither he goes,' said Mahbub. 'He is no\\nfool. When his time is accomplished he will come to me. It is time\\nthe healer of pearls took him in hand. He ripens too quickly--as\\nSahibs reckon.'\\n\\nThis prophecy was fulfilled to the letter a month later. Mahbub had\\ngone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim\\nmet him on the\",\n \", Holy One,' said Kim, forgetting the little\\nplay just ended; forgetting St Xavier's; forgetting his white blood;\\nforgetting even the Great Game as he stooped, Mohammedan-fashion, to\\ntouch his master's feet in the dust of the Jain temple. 'My teaching I\\nowe to thee. I have eaten thy bread three years. My time is finished.\\nI am loosed from the schools. I come to thee.'\\n\\n'Herein is my reward. Enter! Enter! And is\",\n \"ah I will go. At the madrissah I will learn. In the\\nmadrissah I will be a Sahib. But when the madrissah is shut, then must\\nI be free and go among my people. Otherwise I die!'\\n\\n'And who are thy people, Friend of all the World?'\\n\\n'This great and beautiful land,' said Kim, waving his paw round the\\nlittle clay-walled room where the oil-lamp in its niche burned heavily\\nthrough the tobacco-smoke. 'And, further,\",\n \"antastically written in the corners. More to the point, he advised\\nKim as to the care of his own body, the cure of fever-fits, and simple\\nremedies of the Road. A week before it was time to go down, Colonel\\nCreighton Sahib--this was unfair--sent Kim a written examination paper\\nthat concerned itself solely with rods and chains and links and angles.\\n\\nNext holidays he was out with Mahbub, and here, by the way, he nearly\\ndied of thirst, plodding through the sand on a cam\",\n \"you have passed all your\\nexaminations, and will soon obtain Government appointment. Oh ho! You\\nare on acting-allowance, you see: so if you are called upon to help\\nSons of the Charm mind you jolly-well try. Now I shall say good-bye, my\\ndear fellow, and I hope you--ah--will come out top-side all raight.'\\n\\nHurree Babu stepped back a pace or two into the crowd at the entrance\\nof Lucknow station and--was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and hugged\\n\",\n \". Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached\\nthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white\\nmen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim\\ndid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful\\nwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was\\nhand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al\\nRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian\\nNights\",\n \"It remained only to identify his man, and Kim\\nslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass\\nclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved\\nabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth\\ncame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was\\ntoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.\\n\\n'Protector of the Poor!'\\n\\nThe man backed towards the voice.\\n\\n'Mahb\",\n \"know. He is not like other boys. Go and see. It is well\\nworth.'\\n\\nKim danced with impatience when the slim young Kayeth hove in sight.\\nAs soon as his voice could carry he cursed him volubly.\\n\\n'First I will take my pay,' the letter-writer said. 'Bad words have\\nmade the price higher. But who art thou, dressed in that fashion, to\\nspeak in this fashion?'\\n\\n'Aha! That is in the letter which thou shalt write. Never was such a\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing.\\nVillages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, for\\nnot only has the lama given them blessings, but his disciple good\\nmoney--full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve miles a day has the dooli\\ntravelled, as the greasy, rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few\\nSahibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dust\\nfilled every fold of the imp\",\n \"his belt, heaves out the food-bag, crams an oilskin packet--they are\\nholy writings--into his bosom, and helps the lama to his feet. The\\npeace has come again into the old man's eyes, and he does not look for\\nthe hills to fall down and crush him as he did that terrible night when\\nthey were delayed by the flooded river.\\n\\nThe men pick up the dooli and swing out of sight between the scrub\\nclumps.\\n\\nThe lama raises a hand toward the rampart of the Himalayas.\",\n \"day they struck deeper into the huddled mountains, and day\\nafter day Kim watched the lama return to a man's strength. Among the\\nterraces of the Doon he had leaned on the boy's shoulder, ready to\\nprofit by wayside halts. Under the great ramp to Mussoorie he drew\\nhimself together as an old hunter faces a well-remembered bank, and\\nwhere he should have sunk exhausted swung his long draperies about him,\\ndrew a deep double-lungful of the diamond air, and walked as only a\\nhillman\",\n \"the streets are paved with silver, and anyone,\\nlook you, can get service with the Sahibs, who ride about in\\ntwo-wheeled carts and spend money with a spade. Presently, grave and\\naloof, walking very heavily, the lama joined himself to the chatter\\nunder the eaves, and they gave him great room. The thin air refreshed\\nhim, and he sat on the edge of precipices with the best of them, and,\\nwhen talk languished, flung pebbles into the void. Thirty miles away,\",\n \",'\\nsaid he.\\n\\n'It is this person who has suffered wrong,' said the lama, his hand\\nover his brow.\\n\\n'For that very reason,' was the reply.\\n\\n'If this person overlooks it, your hands are clean. Moreover, ye\\nacquire merit by obedience.'\\n\\n'Wait, and we will all go to Shamlegh together,' the man insisted.\\n\\nFor a moment, for just so long as it needs to stuff a cartridge into a\\nbreech-loader, the lama hesitated. Then he\",\n \"The shots ceased. There was a sound of stumbling feet, and Kim hurried\\nupward through the gloom, swearing like a cat--or a country-bred.\\n\\n'Did they wound thee, chela?' called the lama above him.\\n\\n'No. And thou?' He dived into a clump of stunted firs.\\n\\n'Unhurt. Come away. We go with these folk to Shamlegh-under-the-Snow.'\\n\\n'But not before we have done justice,' a voice cried. \",\n \"Umballa to the very village whose priest had tried to\\ndrug him; but the kind Heaven that guards lamas sent him at twilight\\nthrough the crops, absorbed and unsuspicious, to the Rissaldar's door.\\nHere was like to have been a grave misunderstanding, for the old\\nsoldier asked him why the Friend of the Stars had gone that way only\\nsix days before.\\n\\n'That may not be,' said the lama. 'He has gone back to his own people.'\\n\\n'He sat in that corner telling a hundred merry tales\",\n \"\\nand seeing only the tall silent figure, chuckled in his deep chest.\\n\\n'Allah! A lama! A Red Lama! It is far from Lahore to the Passes.\\nWhat dost thou do here?'\\n\\nThe lama held out the begging-bowl mechanically.\\n\\n'God's curse on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub. 'I do not give to a\\nlousy Tibetan; but ask my Baltis over yonder behind the camels. They\\nmay value your blessings. Oh\",\n \"-caught forms and faces and shadows. The voices of early evening\\nhad settled down to one soothing hum whose deepest note was the steady\\nchumping of the bullocks above their chopped straw, and whose highest\\nwas the tinkle of a Bengali dancing-girl's sitar. Most men had eaten\\nand pulled deep at their gurgling, grunting hookahs, which in full\\nblast sound like bull-frogs.\\n\\nAt last the lama returned. A hillman walked behind him with a wadded\\ncotton-quilt and spread\",\n \"or ten thousand feet, those breezes bit; and Kim kindly allowed a\\nvillage of hillmen to acquire merit by giving him a rough blanket-coat.\\nThe lama was mildly surprised that anyone should object to the\\nknife-edged breezes which had cut the years off his shoulders.\\n\\n'These are but the lower hills, chela. There is no cold till we come\\nto the true Hills.'\\n\\n'Air and water are good, and the people are devout enough, but the food\\nis very bad,' Kim growled; 'and we walk\",\n \"harebell down the valleys and round the\\nmountain sides, and in due time the lama and Kim, who steered by\\ncompass, would overhaul it, vending ointments and powders at eventide.\\n'We came by such and such a way!' The lama would throw a careless\\nfinger backward at the ridges, and the umbrella would expend itself in\\ncompliments.\\n\\nThey crossed a snowy pass in cold moonlight, when the lama, mildly\\nchaffing Kim, went through up to his knees, like\",\n \", he was in demand among the lesser kings of those parts.\\n\\n'We will go in the cool of the evening, chela,' said the lama. 'That\\ndoctor, learned in physic and courtesy, affirms that the people among\\nthese lower hills are devout, generous, and much in need of a teacher.\\nIn a very short time--so says the hakim--we come to cool air and the\\nsmell of pines.'\\n\\n'Ye go to the Hills? And by Kulu road? Oh, thrice happy!' shr\",\n \"\\n'Hark!' said the lama. 'One beats a drum--far off!'\\n\\nAt first the sound, carrying diluted through the still air, resembled\\nthe beating of an artery in the head. Soon a sharpness was added.\\n\\n'Ah! The music,' Kim explained. He knew the sound of a regimental\\nband, but it amazed the lama.\\n\\nAt the far end of the plain a heavy, dusty column crawled in sight.\\nThen the wind brought the tune:\\n\\n We crave your condesc\",\n \", chela.'\\n\\n'But the Sahibs did not know thee, Holy One?'\\n\\n'We were well matched. Ignorance and Lust met Ignorance and Lust upon\\nthe road, and they begat Anger. The blow was a sign to me, who am no\\nbetter than a strayed yak, that my place is not here. Who can read the\\nCause of an act is halfway to Freedom! \\\"Back to the path,\\\" says the\\nBlow. \\\"The Hills are not for thee. Thou can\",\n \"precipices with the best of them, and,\\nwhen talk languished, flung pebbles into the void. Thirty miles away,\\nas the eagle flies, lay the next range, seamed and channelled and\\npitted with little patches of brush--forests, each a day's dark march.\\nBehind the village, Shamlegh hill itself cut off all view to southward.\\nIt was like sitting in a swallow's nest under the eaves of the roof of\\nthe world.\\n\\nFrom time to time the lama stretched out his hand,\",\n \"to a\\nlousy Tibetan; but ask my Baltis over yonder behind the camels. They\\nmay value your blessings. Oh, horseboys, here is a countryman of\\nyours. See if he be hungry.'\\n\\nA shaven, crouching Balti, who had come down with the horses, and who\\nwas nominally some sort of degraded Buddhist, fawned upon the priest,\\nand in thick gutturals besought the Holy One to sit at the horseboys'\\nfire.\\n\\n'Go!' said Kim, pushing him\",\n \" Hai! in a whisper to the\\nlight-sleeping old man. 'Come. It is time--time to go to Benares.'\\n\\nThe lama rose obediently, and they passed out of the serai like shadows.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nChapter 2\\n\\n\\n And whoso will, from Pride released;\\n Contemning neither creed nor priest,\\n May feel the Soul of all the East.\\n About him at Kamakura.\\n\\n Buddha at Kamakura.\\n\\n\\nThey entered the fort\",\n \"Gods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom.'\\n\\n'That is well said.' The lama was much impressed by the plan. 'We\\nwill begin tomorrow, and a blessing on thee for showing old feet such a\\nnear road.' A deep, sing-song Chinese half-chant closed the sentence.\\nEven the priest was impressed, and the headman feared an evil spell:\\nbut none could look at the lama's simple, eager face and doubt him long.\\n\\n'Seest thou my chela?' he said, diving into\",\n \"\\nThe lama dragged forth his rosary and pulled his huge hat-brim over his\\neyes.\\n\\n'What can he want now?'\\n\\n'He says'--Kim put up one hand. 'He says: \\\"Be quiet.\\\" He wants to\\nspeak to me by himself. You see, you do not know one little word of\\nwhat he says, and I think if you talk he will perhaps give you very bad\\ncurses. When he takes those beads like that, you see, he always wants\\nto be quiet.'\\n\\nThe two\",\n \"against evil spirits of the wood. He dreams of Bengali Gods,\\nUniversity text-books of education, and the Royal Society, London,\\nEngland. Next dawn the bobbing blue-and-white umbrella goes forward.\\n\\nOn the edge of the Doon, Mussoorie well behind them and the Plains\\nspread out in golden dust before, rests a worn litter in which--all the\\nHills know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing.\\nVillages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing\"\n ],\n [\n \"Gods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom.'\\n\\n'That is well said.' The lama was much impressed by the plan. 'We\\nwill begin tomorrow, and a blessing on thee for showing old feet such a\\nnear road.' A deep, sing-song Chinese half-chant closed the sentence.\\nEven the priest was impressed, and the headman feared an evil spell:\\nbut none could look at the lama's simple, eager face and doubt him long.\\n\\n'Seest thou my chela?' he said, diving into\",\n \"Umballa to the very village whose priest had tried to\\ndrug him; but the kind Heaven that guards lamas sent him at twilight\\nthrough the crops, absorbed and unsuspicious, to the Rissaldar's door.\\nHere was like to have been a grave misunderstanding, for the old\\nsoldier asked him why the Friend of the Stars had gone that way only\\nsix days before.\\n\\n'That may not be,' said the lama. 'He has gone back to his own people.'\\n\\n'He sat in that corner telling a hundred merry tales\",\n \"The shots ceased. There was a sound of stumbling feet, and Kim hurried\\nupward through the gloom, swearing like a cat--or a country-bred.\\n\\n'Did they wound thee, chela?' called the lama above him.\\n\\n'No. And thou?' He dived into a clump of stunted firs.\\n\\n'Unhurt. Come away. We go with these folk to Shamlegh-under-the-Snow.'\\n\\n'But not before we have done justice,' a voice cried. \",\n \"\\nThe lama held his peace. Except for the click of the rosary and a\\nfaint clop-clop of Mahbub's retreating feet, the soft, smoky silence of\\nevening in India wrapped them close.\\n\\n'Hear me! I bring news.'\\n\\n'But let us--'\\n\\nOut shot the long yellow hand compelling silence. Kim tucked his feet\\nunder his robe-edge obediently.\\n\\n'Hear me! I bring news! The Search is finished. Comes now the\\nR\",\n \"But this was used for the initiation of a novice. Tell him so, hakim.'\\n\\n'He wishes it now--for money.'\\n\\nThe lama shook his head slowly and began to fold up the Wheel. The\\nRussian, on his side, saw no more than an unclean old man haggling over\\na dirty piece of paper. He drew out a handful of rupees, and snatched\\nhalf-jestingly at the chart, which tore in the lama's grip. A low\\nmurmur of horror went up from the\",\n \"s and devils of the hills took vengeance. The\\nFrenchman ran towards the lama, fumbling at his revolver with some\\nnotion of making him a hostage for his companion. A shower of cutting\\nstones--hillmen are very straight shots--drove him away, and a coolie\\nfrom Ao-chung snatched the lama into the stampede. All came about as\\nswiftly as the sudden mountain-darkness.\\n\\n'They have taken the baggage and all the guns,' yelled the Frenchman,\\nfiring blindly into\",\n \"the nose. 'Ohe.\\nMahbub Ali!' He halted at a dark arch and slipped behind the\\nbewildered lama.\\n\\nThe horse-trader, his deep, embroidered Bokhariot belt unloosed, was\\nlying on a pair of silk carpet saddle-bags, pulling lazily at an\\nimmense silver hookah. He turned his head very slightly at the cry;\\nand seeing only the tall silent figure, chuckled in his deep chest.\\n\\n'Allah! A lama! A Red Lama\",\n \"and the money upon a paper and give it\\nhim.\\\" And he says you must write your name below, because he is going\\nto write a letter in some days to you. He says you are a good man. He\\nsays the other man is a fool. He is going away.'\\n\\nThe lama rose suddenly. 'I follow my Search,' he cried, and was gone.\\n\\n'He'll run slap into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as\\nthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim\",\n \"watching the lama intently. 'He can't take the boy away with him, and\\nyet he's a good man--I'm sure he's a good man. Bennett, if you give him\\nthat rupee he'll curse you root and branch!'\\n\\nThey listened to each other's breathing--three--five full minutes.\\nThen the lama raised his head, and looked forth across them into space\\nand emptiness.\\n\\n'And I am a Follower of the Way,' he said bitterly. 'The sin is mine\\nand\",\n \"to the nearest tobacco-seller, a rather lively young\\nMohammedan woman, and begged a rank cigar of the brand that they sell\\nto students of the Punjab University who copy English customs. Then he\\nsmoked and thought, knees to chin, under the belly of the gun, and the\\noutcome of his thoughts was a sudden and stealthy departure in the\\ndirection of Nila Ram's timber-yard.\\n\\nThe lama did not wake till the evening life of the city had begun with\\nlamp-lighting and the return of white-\",\n \" I only wished to see that\\nthe boy had come to no harm and was a free agent. As thou knowest, he\\nand I were old friends in the first days of your pilgrimage together.'\\n\\n'That is a bond between us.' The lama sat down. 'We are at the end of\\nthe pilgrimage.'\\n\\n'No thanks to thee thine was not cut off for good and all a week back.\\nI heard what the Sahiba said to thee when we bore thee up on the cot.'\\nMahbub laughed, and\",\n \"s shoulder.\\n\\nThey found the lama where he had dropped.\\n\\n'The Search is at an end for me,' shouted Kim in the vernacular. 'I\\nhave found the Bull, but God knows what comes next. They will not hurt\\nyou. Come to the fat priest's tent with this thin man and see the end.\\nIt is all new, and they cannot talk Hindi. They are only uncurried\\ndonkeys.'\\n\\n'Then it is not well to make a jest of their ignorance,' the lama\\nreturned. 'I am\",\n \"know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing.\\nVillages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, for\\nnot only has the lama given them blessings, but his disciple good\\nmoney--full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve miles a day has the dooli\\ntravelled, as the greasy, rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few\\nSahibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dust\\nfilled every fold of the imp\",\n \"Then he attempted\\nrunning off to the village where the priest had tried to drug the\\nlama--the village where the old soldier lived. But far-seeing sentries\\nat every exit headed back the little scarlet figure. Trousers and\\njacket crippled body and mind alike so he abandoned the project and\\nfell back, Oriental-fashion, on time and chance. Three days of torment\\npassed in the big, echoing white rooms. He walked out of afternoons\\nunder escort of the drummer-boy, and all he heard from his companions\",\n \"day they struck deeper into the huddled mountains, and day\\nafter day Kim watched the lama return to a man's strength. Among the\\nterraces of the Doon he had leaned on the boy's shoulder, ready to\\nprofit by wayside halts. Under the great ramp to Mussoorie he drew\\nhimself together as an old hunter faces a well-remembered bank, and\\nwhere he should have sunk exhausted swung his long draperies about him,\\ndrew a deep double-lungful of the diamond air, and walked as only a\\nhillman\",\n \"'And if you\\ndid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry\\nto interfere.'\\n\\n'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as he\\nwatched the lama's face.\\n\\n'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verree\\nmuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his foot\\nimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his\\nclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by\",\n \"\\n'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more.\\nHe says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants to\\nbe washed of his sins.'\\n\\nNeither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready.\\n\\nSaid Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you\\nwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will\\nlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not come\\nhere to find the Red Bull\",\n \",'\\nsaid he.\\n\\n'It is this person who has suffered wrong,' said the lama, his hand\\nover his brow.\\n\\n'For that very reason,' was the reply.\\n\\n'If this person overlooks it, your hands are clean. Moreover, ye\\nacquire merit by obedience.'\\n\\n'Wait, and we will all go to Shamlegh together,' the man insisted.\\n\\nFor a moment, for just so long as it needs to stuff a cartridge into a\\nbreech-loader, the lama hesitated. Then he\",\n \"\\nand seeing only the tall silent figure, chuckled in his deep chest.\\n\\n'Allah! A lama! A Red Lama! It is far from Lahore to the Passes.\\nWhat dost thou do here?'\\n\\nThe lama held out the begging-bowl mechanically.\\n\\n'God's curse on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub. 'I do not give to a\\nlousy Tibetan; but ask my Baltis over yonder behind the camels. They\\nmay value your blessings. Oh\",\n \"Bushahr and Chini valley. That is ascertained by process\\nof elimination, and also by asking questions from people that I cure so\\nwell. Our friends have been a long time playing about and producing\\nimpressions. So they are well known from far off. You will see me\\ncatch them somewhere in Chini valley. Please keep your eye on the\\numbrella.'\\n\\nIt nodded like a wind-blown harebell down the valleys and round the\\nmountain sides, and in due time the lama and Kim, who steered by\\ncompass\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["What is the Tibetan Lama seeking to find when Kim meets him?","Where is Kim sent by his father's regimental chaplain?","Why is Kim given a government appointment after his schooling?","What country seeks to undermine British control of India?","For how long is Kim in school at Lucknow?","Where is Kim trained in espionage?","Where does the lama believe he should be looking for the River of the Arrow before he realizes he has gone astray?","Who delivers Russian documents to Hurree?","What does the lama achieve once he finds his river?","What happened to Kimball's parents?","How did Kim survive as an orphan?","Who is the character named Mahbub Ali?","Where does Mahbub Ali ask Kim to take a message?","When Kim is sent to an English school, who pays for his education?","What is Kim trained in by his secret service contacts?","Who does Kim encounter when they travel to the Himalayas?","What does Kim obtain from the Russians?","After being rescued from the Russians, what the Lama want to do?","Who is Kimball O'Hara?","How does Kim earn his living?","Who is Mahbub Ali?","What is the Tibetan lama on a quest to recover?","What mission does Mahbub Ali give Kim?","Why is Kim separated from the lama?","What happens when Kim completes his education?","Who does the lama enter into conflict with in the Himalayas?","Who is able to rescue the lama from the Russians?"],"string":"[\n \"What is the Tibetan Lama seeking to find when Kim meets him?\",\n \"Where is Kim sent by his father's regimental chaplain?\",\n \"Why is Kim given a government appointment after his schooling?\",\n \"What country seeks to undermine British control of India?\",\n \"For how long is Kim in school at Lucknow?\",\n \"Where is Kim trained in espionage?\",\n \"Where does the lama believe he should be looking for the River of the Arrow before he realizes he has gone astray?\",\n \"Who delivers Russian documents to Hurree?\",\n \"What does the lama achieve once he finds his river?\",\n \"What happened to Kimball's parents?\",\n \"How did Kim survive as an orphan?\",\n \"Who is the character named Mahbub Ali?\",\n \"Where does Mahbub Ali ask Kim to take a message?\",\n \"When Kim is sent to an English school, who pays for his education?\",\n \"What is Kim trained in by his secret service contacts?\",\n \"Who does Kim encounter when they travel to the Himalayas?\",\n \"What does Kim obtain from the Russians?\",\n \"After being rescued from the Russians, what the Lama want to do?\",\n \"Who is Kimball O'Hara?\",\n \"How does Kim earn his living?\",\n \"Who is Mahbub Ali?\",\n \"What is the Tibetan lama on a quest to recover?\",\n \"What mission does Mahbub Ali give Kim?\",\n \"Why is Kim separated from the lama?\",\n \"What happens when Kim completes his education?\",\n \"Who does the lama enter into conflict with in the Himalayas?\",\n \"Who is able to rescue the lama from the Russians?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["the legendary River of the Arrow","He seeks the legendary River of the Arrow."],["a top English school in Lucknow","Lucknow"],["to begin his role in the Great Game","So he can begin his role in the great game"],["Russia","Russia"],["Three years","Three years"],["the jewelry shop of Lurgan Sahib","In Simla."],["the mountains","in the mountains"],["Kim","Kim."],["Enlightenment","Enlightenment."],["They both died in poverty.","They died in poverty."],["He begged in the streets and did errands.","by begging and running errands"],["A horse trader and British secret service.","a Pashtun horse trader"],["to the head of the British Intelligence","Umbala"],["The Tibetan Lama","The lama"],["espionage to be a surveyor","Espionage."],["Russian Intelligence Agents","The Lama"],["maps and other important papers and items","Maps, papers and other items."],["He wants to search for the River of the Arrow.","He realizes that he was searching for the River of the Arrow in the wrong place, and wants to restart his journey."],["The son of an Irish soldier and Irish mother who both died in poverty.","He is an orphan."],["He earns a living by begging and running small errands in his community.","Begging and running errands."],["A member of the British SS and a horse trader.","A native operative of the British Secret service."],["He is looking for the River of the Arrow.","The River of Arrow"],["Mahbub Ali asks Kim to deliver a message to British Intelligence in Umballa.","he is to travel to Umballa with a message for the head of British Intelligence"],["Someone recognizes the symbol Kim is wearing around his neck.","His dead father's regimental captain identifies him and sends him away to an English school."],["He is given a government appointment, but also a vacation.","He is appointed to a government position, but first is given vacation time, and heads to the Himalayas with the lama."],["He falls into conflict with the Russian intelligence.","Russian Intelligence agents"],["Kim rescues the lama.","Kim"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"the legendary River of the Arrow\",\n \"He seeks the legendary River of the Arrow.\"\n ],\n [\n \"a top English school in Lucknow\",\n \"Lucknow\"\n ],\n [\n \"to begin his role in the Great Game\",\n \"So he can begin his role in the great game\"\n ],\n [\n \"Russia\",\n \"Russia\"\n ],\n [\n \"Three years\",\n \"Three years\"\n ],\n [\n \"the jewelry shop of Lurgan Sahib\",\n \"In Simla.\"\n ],\n [\n \"the mountains\",\n \"in the mountains\"\n ],\n [\n \"Kim\",\n \"Kim.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Enlightenment\",\n \"Enlightenment.\"\n ],\n [\n \"They both died in poverty.\",\n \"They died in poverty.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He begged in the streets and did errands.\",\n \"by begging and running errands\"\n ],\n [\n \"A horse trader and British secret service.\",\n \"a Pashtun horse trader\"\n ],\n [\n \"to the head of the British Intelligence\",\n \"Umbala\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Tibetan Lama\",\n \"The lama\"\n ],\n [\n \"espionage to be a surveyor\",\n \"Espionage.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Russian Intelligence Agents\",\n \"The Lama\"\n ],\n [\n \"maps and other important papers and items\",\n \"Maps, papers and other items.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He wants to search for the River of the Arrow.\",\n \"He realizes that he was searching for the River of the Arrow in the wrong place, and wants to restart his journey.\"\n ],\n [\n \"The son of an Irish soldier and Irish mother who both died in poverty.\",\n \"He is an orphan.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He earns a living by begging and running small errands in his community.\",\n \"Begging and running errands.\"\n ],\n [\n \"A member of the British SS and a horse trader.\",\n \"A native operative of the British Secret service.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He is looking for the River of the Arrow.\",\n \"The River of Arrow\"\n ],\n [\n \"Mahbub Ali asks Kim to deliver a message to British Intelligence in Umballa.\",\n \"he is to travel to Umballa with a message for the head of British Intelligence\"\n ],\n [\n \"Someone recognizes the symbol Kim is wearing around his neck.\",\n \"His dead father's regimental captain identifies him and sends him away to an English school.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He is given a government appointment, but also a vacation.\",\n \"He is appointed to a government position, but first is given vacation time, and heads to the Himalayas with the lama.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He falls into conflict with the Russian intelligence.\",\n \"Russian Intelligence agents\"\n ],\n [\n \"Kim rescues the lama.\",\n \"Kim\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"b2ea4fae4188c23a975683eaeb43ed2ac698f7c0"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":26,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["aside, and acted himself as torturer and executioner. As\na rule, however, the relationship was as I have stated, the outrages being\nactually committed by the capitas, but with the approval of, and often in\nthe presence of, their white employers.\n\nIt would be absurd to suppose that the agents were all equally merciless,\nand that there were not some who were torn in two by the desire for wealth\nand promotion on the one side and the horror of their daily task upon the\nother. Here are two illustrative extracts from the letters of Lieutenant\nTil","\n \"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\n into this state now.\"\n\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty","ner's time, and stated that no\n village in this district had escaped murders under this man's\n _régime_.\n\n \"Next we dealt with irregularities common to all agents, calling\n attention to and proving by specific instances the public floggings of\n practically any and every one; quoting, for instance, seeing with my\n own eyes six Ngombe men receive one hundred strokes each, delivered\n simultaneously by two sentries.\n\n \"Next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men,\n ","natives of a\ncertain village which had been slow in bringing its rubber. He had carried\nout the order. Later, his chief had put sixty women in irons, and allowed\nnearly all of them to die of hunger because the village--Mummumbula--had\nnot brought enough rubber. \"I am going to be tried,\" he wrote, \"for having\nmurdered one hundred and fifty men, for having crucified women and\nchildren, and for having mutilated many men and hung the remains on the\nvillage fence.\" At the same moment as this confession","skin of the wretched victims who, although strongly\nbuilt, gasp in terrible contortions.\n\n\"Often the blood trickles, more rarely fainting ensues. Regularly and\nwithout cessation the chicotte winds round the flesh of these martyrs of\nthe most relentless and loathsome tyrants who have ever disgraced\nhumanity. At the first blows the unhappy victims utter terrible shrieks\nwhich soon die down to low groans. In addition, when the officer who\norders the punishment is in a bad humour, he k","meted out to them, the flogging of rubber collectors, the\n brutality of the black employés set over the prisoners, were the rule\n commonly followed.\"\n\nThen follows an illuminative passage about the sentries, capitas or\n\"forest guards,\" or messengers, as they are alternatively called. It is a\nwonder that they were not called hospital orderlies in the efforts to make\nthem seem inoffensive. What they actually were was, as we have seen, some\ntwenty thousand cannibals armed with Albini repeating","of men, women and\nchildren killed by the sentries of a M. Pilaet.\n\n \"Last year,\" he says, \"or the year before, the young woman, Imenega,\n was tied to a forked tree and chopped in half with a hatchet,\n beginning at the left shoulder, chopping down through the chest and\n abdomen and out at the side.\" Again, with every detail of name and\n place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been\n enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and","its are specially\ninvited.\n\n\"The chief of the post points out the victims; they leave the ranks and\ncome forward, for at the least attempt at flight they would be brutally\nseized by the soldiers, struck in the face by the representative of the\nFree State and the punishment would be doubled. Trembling and terrified,\nthey stretch themselves face down before the captain and his colleagues;\ntwo of their companions, sometimes four, seize them by their hands and\nfeet and take off their waistcloth. Then, armed with a lash of\nhippopotam","be mutilated like that, and those parts of you carried to him?'\n\n \"P P, O O, and all (shouting): 'Yes! many white men. D E did it.'\n\n \"_Q._ 'You say this is true? Were many of you so treated after being\n shot?'\n\n \"All (shouting out): 'Nkoto! Nkoto!' (Very many! Very many!)\n\n \"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not","Monsieur Stanislas Lefranc, Judge on the Congo, and one of the few men\nwhose humanity seems to have survived such an experience, says:\n\n\"Every day, at six in the morning and two in the afternoon, at each State\npost can be seen, to-day, as five or even ten years ago, the savoury sight\nwhich I am going to try to depict, and to which new recruits are specially\ninvited.\n\n\"The chief of the post points out the victims; they leave the ranks and\ncome forward, for at","asked by the rubber agent if he would bring\n in rubber now. He replied that he would. Although a chief of\n considerable standing, he has been flogged, imprisoned, tied by the\n neck with men who were regarded as slaves, made to do the most menial\n work, and his beard, which was of many years' growth, and reached\n almost to the ground, was cut off by the rubber agent because he\n visited another town.\"\n\nLontulu was cross-examined by the Commission and his evidence was not\nshaken. Here are some of","ain\" are obtained. He says:\n\n \"Everything was on a military basis, but, so far as I could see, the\n one and only reason for it all was rubber. It was the theme of every\n conversation, and it was evident that the only way to please one's\n superiors was to increase the output somehow. I saw a few men come in,\n and the frightened look even now on their faces tells only too\n eloquently of the awful time they have passed through. As I saw it\n brought in, each man had a little basket","on a fire to smoke before being\n sent to the Commissary.\"\n\nHere we get the system at its highest. I think that picture of the child\nhacking off the hand of the dying man at the order of the monster who\nwould have assuredly murdered him also had he hesitated to obey, is as\ndiabolical a one as even the Congo could show. A pretty commentary upon\nthe doctrine of Christ which the missionary was there to preach!\n\nMr. Sjoblom seems to have been unable to believe at first that such deeds\nwere done with the"," order to force the natives to furnish them with produce and to work\n for the Company, as also to pursue as rebels and outlaws those who\n sought to escape from the requisitions imposed upon them.... That,\n above all, the fact that the arrest of women and their detention, to\n compel the villages to furnish both produce and workmen, was tolerated\n and admitted even by certain of the administrative authorities of the\n region.\"\n\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\n\n \"In the morning, when about","Lothaire, in similar circumstances, was allowed to slip\nfrom the country. An insignificant agent may be occasionally made an\nexample of, but to punish the local manager of a great company would be to\nlessen the output of rubber, and what are morality and justice compared to\nthat?\n\nWhy should one continue with the testimony given before the Commission?\nTheir wanderings covered a little space of the country and were confined\nto the main river, but everywhere they elicited the same tale of slavery,\nmutilation, and murder. What Scrivener and","and\nchildren, and for having mutilated many men and hung the remains on the\nvillage fence.\" At the same moment as this confession of Lacroix, _Le\nPetit Bleu_ published sworn affidavits of soldiers employed by the Trust,\ntelling how they had put to death whole villages for being short with\ntheir rubber. Moray, another agent, published a confession in _Le Petit\nBleu_, from which this is an extract:\n\n \"At Ambas we were a party of thirty, under Van Eycken, who","dying he had given him\nthe charge of two infant brothers and enjoined him to guard them tenderly.\nHe had cared for them until he had been compelled at last to go himself\ninto the forest to gather the rubber. One week their quantity had been\nshort. When he returned from the wood the village had been raided in his\nabsence, and he found his two little brothers lying disembowelled across a\nlog. The company, however, paid 200 per cent.\n\nFour natives had been tortured until they cried out for some one to bring\na gun and","beat them, mutilated them, and shot them\ndown at his pleasure. He enforced public incest in order to amuse himself\nby the sight. Sometimes they plucked up spirit and killed him. The Belgian\nCommission records that 142 capitas had been killed in seven months in a\nsingle district. Then came the punitive expedition, and the destruction of\nthe whole community. The more terror the capita inspired, the more useful\nhe was, the more eagerly the villagers obeyed him, and the more rubber\nyielded its commission to the agent. When the","\n\nFurther on he says:\n\n \"Every village had been burned to the ground, and as I fled from the\n country I saw skeletons, skeletons everywhere. And such postures! What\n tales of horror they told.\"\n\nJust a word in conclusion from another witness, Mr. Herbert Frost:\n\n \"The power of an armed soldier among enslaved people is absolutely\n paramount. By chief or child, every command, wish, or whim of the\n soldier must be obeyed or gratified. At his command with rifle ready a",",\n the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured\n me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to\n a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.\"\n\nAgain I insert a passage to show that Casement was by no means an\nill-natured critic:\n\n \"It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R.\n Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult\n and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as"],["what had been but recently the condition of the\n place.... Soon we began talking, and, without any encouragement on my\n part, they began the tales I had become so accustomed to. They were\n living in peace and quietness when the white men came in from the Lake\n with all sorts of requests to do this and to do that, and they thought\n it meant slavery. So they attempted to keep the white men out of their\n country, but without avail. The rifles were too much for them. So they\n submitted, and made up their minds to do","\"one coat of red cloth with gold\nfacings, one red cap, one white tunic, one piece of white baft, one piece\nof red points, one box of liqueurs, four demijohns of rum, two boxes of\ngin, 128 bottles of gin, twenty red handkerchiefs, forty singlets and\nforty old cotton caps.\" It is clear that in making such treaties the Chief\nthought that he was giving permission for the establishment of a station.\nThe idea that he was actually bartering away the land was never even in\nhis","\n fact that the basin of the Ikelemba was supposed to be free-trade\n territory also, but that everywhere the people of the various\n districts were compelled to serve the companies of these respective\n districts, in rubber, gum copal or food. At one out-of-the-way place\n where we were on the south bank, two men arrived just as we were\n leaving, with their bodies covered with marks of the chicotte, which\n they had just received from the trader of Bosci because their quantity\n had been short.","named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.\"\n\nThe natives were broken in spirit by the treatment:\n\n \"One of them--a strong, indeed, a splendid-looking man--broke down and\n wept, saying that their lives were useless to them, and that they knew\n of no means of escape from the troubles which were gathering around\n them. I could only assure these people that their obvious course to\n obtain relief was by appeal to their own constituted authorities, and\n that if their circumstances","villages and gardens. It\ndecrees that all the products of this immense region are its private\nproperty, and it monopolizes the trade in them. As regards the primitive\nproprietors, the native tribes, they are dispossessed by a simple\ncircular; permission is graciously granted to them to collect such\nproducts, but only on condition that they bring them for sale to the State\nfor whatever the latter may be pleased to give them. As regards alien\ntraders, they are prohibited in all this territory from trading with the\nnatives.\"\n\nEverywhere there were stern orders","Stanley Pool to Upoto, a distance of 6,000 miles,\n they knew every landing-place on the river banks. All the ups and\n downs of savage life, all the profits and losses derived from barter,\n all the diplomatic arts used by tactful savages, were as well known to\n them as the Roman alphabet to us.... No wonder that all this\n commercial knowledge had left its traces on their faces; indeed, it is\n the same as in your own cities in Europe. Know you not the military\n man among you,","save the actual site of their villages, and\nthe scanty fields of grain or manioc which surround them. Everywhere\nbeyond these tiny patches extend the plains and forests which have been\nthe ancestral wandering places of the natives, and which contain the\nrubber, the camwood, the copal, the ivory, and the skins which are the\nsole objects of their commerce. At a single stroke of a pen in Brussels\neverything was taken from them, not only the country, but the produce of\nthe country. How could they trade when the State had taken","sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods\n to meet their share of the fine. A widow came and declared that she\n had been forced, in order to meet her share of the fine, to sell her\n daughter G, a little girl whom I judged from her description to be\n about ten years of age. She had been sold to a man in Y----, who was\n named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.\"\n\nThe natives were broken in spirit by","days of our mutual intercourse they gave us a high\n idea of their qualities--industry, after their own style, not being\n the least conspicuous.\"\n\n \"As in the old time, Umangi, from the right bank, and Mpa, from the\n left bank, despatched their representatives with ivory tusks, large\n and small, goats and sheep, and vegetable food, clamorously demanding\n that we should buy from them. Such urgent entreaties, accompanied with\n blandishments to purchase their stock, were","is taken. Within my own knowledge forty-five villages were\n altogether burned down. I say altogether, because there were many\n others partly burned down. I passed through twenty-eight abandoned\n villages. The natives had left their places to go further inland. In\n order to separate themselves from the white men they go part of the\n way down the river, or else they cross the river into French\n territory. Sometimes, the natives are obliged to pay a large\n indemnity. The chiefs often have to pay with brass wire and slaves,\n and if","for the profit of the State, those very products which had been\ntaken from them. This was to be effected by two means; the one, taxation,\nby which an arbitrary amount, ever growing larger until it consumed almost\ntheir whole lives in the gathering, should be claimed for nothing. The\nother, so-called barter by which the natives were paid for the stuff\nexactly what the State chose to give, and in the form the State chose to\ngive it, there being no competition allowed from any other purchaser. This\nremuneration, ridiculous in value,","ability. The following extracts from his writings set this matter beyond\nall doubt:\n\n \"Bolobo is a great centre for the ivory and camwood powder trade,\n principally because its people are so enterprising.\"\n\nOf Irebu--\"a Venice of the Congo\"--he says:\n\n \"These people were really acquainted with many lands and tribes on the\n Upper Congo. From Stanley Pool to Upoto, a distance of 6,000 miles,\n they knew every landing-place on the river banks. All the","of the women have babies, but they go\n to work just the same. They form, indeed, a miserable spectacle, and\n one wonders that old women, although prisoners of war, should not\n receive a little more consideration; at least, their nakedness might\n be hidden. The men prisoners are treated in a far better way.\"\n\nDescribing the natives he says:\n\n \"The natives are not lazy, good-for-nothing fellows. Their fine powers\n are obtained by hard work, sobriety and frugal living.\"\n\nHe","their\n country, but without avail. The rifles were too much for them. So they\n submitted, and made up their minds to do the best they could under the\n altered circumstances. First came the command to build houses for the\n soldiers, and this was done without a murmur. Then they had to feed\n the soldiers, and all the men and women--hangers-on--who accompanied\n them.\n\n \"Then they were told to bring in rubber. This was quite a new thing\n for them to do. There was rubber in the forest several days away","traces on their faces; indeed, it is\n the same as in your own cities in Europe. Know you not the military\n man among you, the lawyer and the merchant, the banker, the artist, or\n the poet? It is the same in Africa, MORE ESPECIALLY ON THE CONGO,\n WHERE THE PEOPLE ARE SO DEVOTED TO TRADE.\"\n\n \"During the few days of our mutual intercourse they gave us a high\n idea of their qualities--industry, after their own style, not being\n the least","covered with marks of the chicotte, which\n they had just received from the trader of Bosci because their quantity\n had been short. I said to the Commissaire, given favourable\n conditions, particularly freedom, there would soon be a large\n population in these interior towns, the Ngombe and Mongo.\"\n\nIn answer to questions the following facts were solicited:\n\n \"_Unsettled condition of the people._ The older people never seem to\n have confidence to build their houses substantially. If they have any\n suspicion of the approach of a","est abuses.\n\n \"There is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a\n totally inadequate wage. In visiting the various rubber-working towns,\n one would expect to see some signs of European commodities that had\n been given in exchange for the millions of pounds' worth of rubber\n that has been extracted from them, but the native residents possess\n actually nothing at all.\n\n \"_Their conditions of living are deplorable_, and the filth and\n squalor of their villages is only too apparent. _The people live in","They are not a warlike people, and I could hear of no single attempt\n at resistance. They are the kind of people the State soldiers are most\n successful with. They would rather any day run away than fight. And in\n fact, they have nothing to fight with except a few bows and arrows. I\n have been trying to reckon the probable number of people I met with. I\n should say that five thousand is, if anything, beyond the mark. A few\n years ago the population of the district I passed through must have\n been four times that number. On","had,\n many of them, been compelled to sell their children and their wives. I\n saw no live-stock of any kind in W---- save a very few fowls--possibly\n under a dozen--and it seemed, indeed, not unlikely that, as these\n people asserted, they had great difficulty in always getting their\n supplies ready. A father and mother stepped out and said that they had\n been forced to sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods\n to meet their share of the fine. A widow","journeys, when I had gone a little farther,\n perhaps, than the Commissary expected me to go, I saw something that\n perhaps he would not have liked me to see. It was at a town called\n Ibera, one of the cannibal towns to which no white man had ever been\n before. I reached it at sunset, after the natives had returned from\n the various places in which they had been looking for india-rubber.\n They gathered together in a great crowd, being curious to see a white\n man. Besides, they"],[",\n the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured\n me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to\n a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.\"\n\nAgain I insert a passage to show that Casement was by no means an\nill-natured critic:\n\n \"It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R.\n Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult\n and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as","never\npublished at all, in spite of an informal assurance to Lord Lansdowne that\nnothing would be held back. Only the conclusions saw the light, without\nthe document upon which they were founded.\n\nThe effect of that Report, when stripped of its courtly phrases, was an\nabsolute confirmation of all that had been said by so many witnesses\nduring so many years. It is easy to blame the Commissioners for not having\nthe full courage of their convictions, but their position was full of\ndifficulty. The Report was really a personal one. The State was,","without the authority of the\n Governor-General.\"\n\nAnd, finally, his reasons for writing his book:\n\n \"The contemplation of an immeasurable misery has caused us to publish\n this book. The gravity of the evil, its roots causes, had long escaped\n us. When we knew them we could not retain within ourselves the\n compassion with which we were imbued, and we resolved to tell the\n citizens of a generous country, appealing to their religion, to their\n patriotism, to their hearts.\"\n\nSurely after such evidence from such","\n \"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\n into this state now.\"\n\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty","establishment.\"\n\nThese are not the words of a critic who has started with a prejudiced mind\nor the desire to make out a case.\n\nIn the lower reaches of the river above Stanley Pool Casement found no\ngross ill-usage. The natives were hopeless and listless, being debarred\nfrom trade and heavily taxed in food, fish and other produce. It was not\nuntil he began to approach the cursed rubber zones that terrible things\nbegan to dawn upon him. Casement had travelled in 1887 in the Congo, and\nwas surprised","broken, as a man's speech may be hurried and broken when he is\ndriven to it by a sense of burning injustice and intolerable wrong. But it\nis true--and I defy any man to read it without rising with the conviction\nof its truth. Consider the cloud of witnesses. Consider the minute and\nspecific detail in the evidence. Consider the undenied system which must\n_prima facie_ produce such results. Consider the admissions of the Belgian\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\nthat the accusations of the","ed\n on women and children. Small boys of ten or twelve, with excitable,\n hot-tempered masters, often are most harshly treated. At Kasnogo there\n is a great deal of cruelty displayed. I saw two boys very badly cut. I\n conscientiously believe that a man who receives one hundred blows is\n often nearly killed, and has his spirit broken for life.\"\n\nHe has a glimpse of the treatment of the subjects of other nations:\n\n \"Two days before my arrival (at Wabundu) two Sierra Leoneans","own throat. The fact may,\nperhaps, give some indication of how the judges felt when the stories were\nstill fresh in their minds, and their nerves wincing under the horror of\nthe evidence.\n\nA whole year elapsed between the starting of the Commission and the\npresentation of their Report, which was published upon October 31st, 1905.\nThe evidence which would have stirred Europe to its foundations was never\npublished at all, in spite of an informal assurance to Lord Lansdowne that\nnothing would be held back. Only the","of my men to see, and they\n brought back a little girl whose right hand had been cut off, and she\n left to die from the wound. The child had no other wound. As I was\n going to see Dr. Reusens about my own sickness I took the child to\n him, and he has cut the arm and made it right and I think she will\n live. But I think such awful cruelty should be punished.\"\n\nMr. Clark still clung to the hope that King Leopold did not know of the\nresults of his own system. On March","highly improbable that the natives will ever\n report irregularities. I then pointed out that we firmly believe that\n but for us these irregularities would never have come to light.\n\n \"Following on this the difficulties to be faced by missionaries were\n dealt with, pointing out that the A.B.I.R. can and do impose on us all\n sorts of restrictions if we dare to speak a word about their\n irregularities. I then quoted a few of the many instances which found\n their climax in Mrs. Harris and I almost losing","a grand\nsight to see the banner of humanity and civilization carried forward in\nsuch a cause by the two great English-speaking nations.\n\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nI am convinced that the reason why public opinion has not been more\nsensitive upon the question of the Congo Free State, is that the terrible\nstory has not been brought thoroughly home to the people. Mr. E. D. Morel\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\nstruggled hard with very","wife that their white man\n did not want them to bring infants to their place. They dragged the\n women off and left the infant beside us, but we sent the child to its\n mother, and said we would report the matter to the chief of the post.\n We did so, but the men were not punished. The principal offender was\n told before me he would get fifty lashes, but I heard the same mouth\n send a message to say he would not be flogged.\"\n\nCompare with this the following extracts from King Leopold's _Offic","France, were\nit not for the French Congo) can claim that their system works as strongly\nagainst outrage as the Belgian one does in favour of it. These things are\nnot, as the Commissioners seemed to think, necessary evils, which are\ntolerated elsewhere. How can their raw opinion weigh for a moment upon\nsuch a point when it is counterbalanced by the words of such Reformers as\nSir Harry Johnston or Lord Cromer? The fact is that the running of a\ntropical colony is, of all tests, the most searching as to the\ndevelop","were, with the exception of a guarded document from\nConsul Pickersgill, in 1898, entirely from private individuals. No doubt\nthere were official reports but the Government withheld them. In 1904,\nthis policy of reticence was abandoned, and the historic report of Consul\nRoger Casement confirmed, and in some ways amplified, all that had reached\nEurope from other sources.\n\nA word or two as to Mr. Casement's own personality and qualifications may\nnot be amiss, since both were attacked by his Belgian","strong then pointed out to the Public Prosecutor in good,\nstraight terms, which his official superiors might well imitate, that the\nmatter had gone far enough, that English patience was almost exhausted,\nand that Mr. Stannard should be baited no longer. The case was dropped.\n\nI shall pass straight on now to the most recent reports received from the\nCongo, to show that there is no difference at all in the general\ncondition, so far as it is reported by the impartial men at the spot, save\nthat the actual killings and maimings have","only condones, but actually\ncommands it by private circular. Again the gap which lies betwixt law and\nfact where the interest of gain is concerned.\n\n \"It was barely denied,\" the Report continues, \"that in the various\n posts of the A.B.I.R. which we visited, the imprisonment of women\n hostages, the subjection of the chiefs to servile labour, the\n humiliations meted out to them, the flogging of rubber collectors, the\n brutality of the black employés set over the prisoners,","present in the town, who were not so bad as K K, but that\n he was a villain. As the evidence against him was perfectly clear, man\n after man standing out and declaring he had seen the act committed, I\n informed him and the people present that I should appeal to the local\n authorities for his immediate arrest and trial.\"\n\nThe following extract must be my final quotation from Consul Casement's\nreport:\n\n \"I asked then how this tax was imposed. One of them, who had been\n hammering out an iron neck-collar",".\"\n\nWhat comment can be added to such evidence as this! It stands in its naked\nhorror, and it is futile to try to make it more vivid. What can any of\nthose English apologists of the Congo who have thrown a doubt upon the\naccounts of outrages because in passing through a section of this huge\ncountry upon a flying visit they had not happened to see them--what can\nLord Mountmorris, Captain Boyd Alexander, or Mrs. French Sheldon say in\nthe face of a mass of evidence with the actual mutilated limbs and\n","\n insensibility after twenty-five or thirty blows. At the first blow he\n yells abominably; then he quiets down, and is a mere groaning,\n quivering body till the operation is over, when the culprit stumbles\n away, often with gashes which will endure a lifetime. It is bad enough\n the flogging of men, but far worse is this punishment when inflicted\n on women and children. Small boys of ten or twelve, with excitable,\n hot-tempered masters, often are most harsh"," COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, 1909\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY A. CONAN DOYLE\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThere are many of us in England who consider the crime which has been\nwrought in the Congo lands by King Leopold of Belgium and his followers to\nbe the greatest which has ever been known in human annals. Personally I am\nstrongly of that opinion. There have been great expropriations"],["I\n\nHOW THE CONGO FREE STATE CAME TO BE FOUNDED\n\n\nIn the earlier years of his reign King Leopold of Belgium began to display\nthat interest in Central Africa which for a long time was ascribed to\nnobility and philanthropy, until the contrast between such motives, and\nthe actual unscrupulous commercialism, became too glaring to be sustained.\nAs far back as the year 1876 he called a conference of humanitarians and\ntravellers, who met at Brussels for the purpose of debating various plans\nby which","87\n\n Some Catholic Testimony as to the Congo 97\n\n The Evidence Up to Date 102\n\n The Political Situation 114\n\n Some Congolese Apologies 118\n\n Solutions 123\n\n Appendix 127\n\n\n\n\nTHE CRIME OF THE CONGO\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nHOW THE CONGO FREE STATE CAME TO BE FOUNDED\n\n\nIn the earlier years of his reign King Leopold of Belgium","that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\nAugust 10th, 1908. But responsibility cannot be so easily shaken off. The\nCongo State was founded by the Belgian King, and exploited by Belgian\ncapital, Belgian soldiers and Belgian concessionnaires. It was defended\nand upheld by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles","the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\n\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 188","were all for\nLeopold, the one attracted by the prospect of pushing their missions into\nthe heart of Africa, the others delighted at the offer of an open market\nfor their produce. At the Congress of Berlin, which was called to regulate\nthe situation, the nations vied with each other in furthering the plans of\nthe King of the Belgians and in extolling his high aims. The Congo Free\nState was created amid general rejoicings. The veteran Bismarck, as\ncredulous as the others, pronounced its baptismal blessing. \"The New Congo\nState","icings. The veteran Bismarck, as\ncredulous as the others, pronounced its baptismal blessing. \"The New Congo\nState is called upon,\" said he, \"to become one of the chief promoters of\nthe work\" (of civilization) \"which we have in view, and I pray for its\nprosperous development and for the fulfilment of the noble aspirations of\nits illustrious founder.\" Such was the birth of the Congo Free State. Had\nthe nations gathered round been able to perceive its future, the betrayal\nof religion and civilization","oulded.\n\nIn the meantime King Leopold, feeling the weakness of his personal\nposition in face of the great enterprise which lay before him in Africa,\nendeavoured more and more to draw Belgium, as a State, into the matter.\nAlready the Congo State was largely the outcome of Belgian work and of\nBelgian money, but, theoretically, there was no connection between the two\ncountries. Now the Belgian Parliament was won over to advancing ten\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\nsprang up which has eventually","OF THE CONGO STATE\n\n\nHaving received his mandate from the civilized world King Leopold\nproceeded to organize the Government of the new State, which was in theory\nto be independent of Belgium, although ruled by the same individual. In\nEurope, King Leopold was a constitutional monarch; in Africa, an absolute\nautocrat. There were chosen three ministers for the new State--for foreign\naffairs, for finances and for internal affairs; but it cannot be too\nclearly understood that they and their successors, up to 1908, were\n","now, after all these years, with all the facts notorious, we\nare still at the stage of polite diplomatic expostulations. It is no\nanswer to say that France and Germany have shown even less regard for the\npledge they took at Berlin. An individual does not condone the fact that\nhe has broken his word by pointing out that his neighbour has done the\nsame.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CONGO STATE\n\n\nHaving received his mandate from the civilized world King Leopold\nproceeded to organize the Government of","ME CONGOLESE APOLOGIES\n\n\nIt only remains to examine some of the Congolese attempts to answer the\nunanswerable. It is but fair to hear the other side, and I will set down\nsuch points as they advance as clearly as I can:\n\n1.--_That the Congo State is independent and that it is no one else's\nbusiness what occurs within its borders._\n\nI have, I trust, clearly shown that by the Berlin Treaty of 1885 the State\nwas formed on certain conditions, and that these conditions as affecting\nboth",", first, Great Britain\nand the Congo State; secondly, Great Britain and Belgium. In each case\nGreat Britain was, indeed, the spokesman of the civilized world.\n\nSo far as one can trace, no strong protest was raised by the British\nGovernment at the time when the Congo State took the fatal step, the\ndirect cause of everything which has followed, of leaving the honest\npath, trodden up to that time by all European Colonies, and seizing the\nland of the country as their own. Only in 1896 do we find protests","ate given to King Leopold, strengthened the position\nof the new State to such an extent that it found no difficulty in securing\na further loan from Belgium of twenty-five millions of francs, upon\ncondition that, after ten years, Belgium should have the option of taking\nover the Congo lands as a colony.\n\nIf in the years which immediately succeeded the Brussels Conference--from\n1890 to 1894--a bird's-eye view could be taken of the enormous river\nwhich, with its tributaries, forms a great twisted fan radiating","was the birth of the Congo Free State. Had\nthe nations gathered round been able to perceive its future, the betrayal\nof religion and civilization of which it would be guilty, the immense\nseries of crimes which it would perpetrate throughout Central Africa, the\nlowering of the prestige of all the white races, they would surely have\nstrangled the monster in its cradle.\n\nIt is not necessary to record in this statement the whole of the\nprovisions of the Berlin Congress. Two only will suffice, as they are at\nthe same time the most important and the most flag","a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 1885 a State is formed for the \"moral and\nmaterial improvement of the native races.\" In 1903 the native \"is not\nentitled to anything.\" The two phrases mark the beginning and the end of\nKing Leopold's journey.\n\nIn 1904 the British Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\nof Consul Casement.","driven him to his death, and by the\nlast reports neither his relatives nor his creditors have received any\nportion of this large sum. Consider the whole story and say if it is\nexaggeration to state that Gustav Maria Rabinck was robbed and murdered by\nthe Congo Free State.\n\nHaving shown in these two examples the way in which the Congo Free State\nhas dared to treat the citizens of European States who have traded within\nher borders, I will now proceed to detail, in chronological order, some\naccount of the dark story of that State's relations",". He expressed to the\nCommissioners his disappointment at the failure of the Congo Government to\nrealize the promises with which it inaugurated its career. He declared he\ncould no longer wear the decorations which he had received from the\nSovereign of the Congo State. He gave it as his opinion that the ills the\ncountry was suffering from were due to the haste of a few men to get rich,\nand to the absence of anything like a serious attempt to properly police\nthe country in the interests of the people. He instanced the few judicial\nofficers, and","the State is a\nclose accomplice. Finally, the European directors of this bloodstained\ncompany are, or were at the time, the Senator Van der Nest, who acted as\nPresident; and as Council: Count John d'Oultremont, Grand Marshal of the\nBelgian Court; Baron Dhanis, of Congo fame, and M. van Eetevelde, the\ncreature of the King, and the writer of so many smug despatches to the\nBritish Government about the mission of civilization and the high purpose\nof the Congo State. Now","ceived by the general public from the Congo Free State concerned the\nfounding of new stations, and the idea prevailed that King Leopold's\nenterprise was indeed working out upon the humanitarian lines which had\nbeen originally planned. Then, for the first time, incidents occurred\nwhich gave some glimpse of the violence and anarchy which really\nprevailed.\n\nThe first of these, so far as Great Britain is concerned, lay in the\ntreatment of natives from Sierra Leone, Lagos, and other British\nSettlements, who had been engaged by the Belgians to","claimed to belong, not to the\ninhabitants, but to the State--that is, to King Leopold.\n\nWith this sheaf of treaties in his portfolio the King of the Belgians now\napproached the Powers with high sentiments of humanitarianism, and with a\ndefinite request that the State which he was forming should receive some\nrecognized status among the nations. Was he at that time consciously\nhypocritical? Did he already foresee how widely his future actions would\ndiffer from his present professions? It is a problem which will interest\n","was won over to advancing ten\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\nsprang up which has eventually led to annexation. At the time of this loan\nKing Leopold let it be known that he had left the Congo Free State in his\nwill to Belgium. In this document appear the words, \"A young and spacious\nState, directed from Brussels, has pacifically appeared in the sunlight,\nthanks to the benevolent support of the Powers that have welcomed its\nappearance. Some Belgians administer it, while others"],["and\n active.\"\n\nIn 1903 there were 600 people surviving.\n\nIn 1894 Ikoko in the Crown Domain began to feel the effects of \"moral and\nmaterial regeneration.\" On May 30th of that year Mr. Clark writes:\n\n \"Owing to trouble with the State the Irebo people fled and left their\n homes. Yesterday the State soldiers shot a sick man who had not\n attempted to run away, and others have been killed by the State\n (native) soldiers, who, in the","ives to seek shelter in the recesses\n of the hospitable bush, or, across the frontiers, to find it in French\n or Portuguese Congo, not yet afflicted with so many labours and\n alarms, far from the roads traversed by white men, those baneful\n intruders, and their train of strange and disquieting habits.\" The\n outlook was as gloomy when he wandered along the path trodden by the\n caravans to the Pool and back again. \"We are constantly meeting these\n carriers,","ered along the path trodden by the\n caravans to the Pool and back again. \"We are constantly meeting these\n carriers, either isolated or in Indian file; blacks, blacks, miserable\n blacks, with horribly filthy loin-clothes for their only garments;\n their bare and frizzled heads supporting their loads--chest, bale,\n ivory-tusk, hamper of rubber, or barrel; for the most part broken\n down, sinking under the burdens made heavier by their weariness and\n insuff","arms against the Belgians,\nbut Rabinck had acquired such influence among them that he was still able\nto carry on his trade in ivory and rubber for which he held a permit from\nthe Katanga Company.\n\nShortly after receiving this permit, for which he had paid a considerable\nsum, certain changes were made in the company by which the State secured a\ncontrolling influence in it. A new manager, Major Weyns, appeared, who\nrepresented the new régime, superseding M. Lévêque, who had sold the\npermits","illed some of us when we were\n working away in the forest, and others got lost or died from exposure\n and starvation, and we begged the white man to leave us alone, saying\n we could get no more rubber, but the white men and their soldiers\n said: \"Go! You are only beasts yourselves; you are nyama (meat).\" We\n tried, always going further into the forest, and when we failed and\n our rubber was short, the soldiers came to our towns and killed us.\n Many were shot, some had their ears cut","a sick man who had not\n attempted to run away, and others have been killed by the State\n (native) soldiers, who, in the absence of a white man, do as they\n please.\"\n\nIn November, 1894:\n\n \"At Ikoko quite a number of people have been killed by the soldiers,\n and most of the others are living in the bush.\"\n\nIn the same month he complained officially to Commissaire Fievez:\n\n \"If you do not come soon and stop the present trouble the towns will\n be empty","these people without paying for it. The\n revolution will extend.\" He adds: \"The post (Isangi) is close to the\n large settlement of an important coast man, Kayamba, who now is\n devoted to the interests of the State, catching slaves for them, and\n stealing ivory from the natives of the interior. Does the\n philanthropic King of the Belgians know about this? If not, he ought\n to.\"\n\nAs he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent\npeace, his comments become more bitter.","\n to.\"\n\nAs he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent\npeace, his comments become more bitter. The nascent rubber trade began to\nintrude its methods upon his notice:\n\n \"Formerly the natives were well treated, but now expeditions have been\n sent in every direction, forcing natives to make rubber and to bring\n it to the stations. Up the Ikelemba, we are taking down one hundred\n slaves, mere children, all taken in unholy wars against the\n natives.... It was","from Olmutz, a man of a gentle\nand lovable nature, popular with all who knew him, and remarkable, as\nseveral have testified, for his just and kindly treatment of the natives.\nHe had, for some years, traded with the people of Katanga, which is the\nsoutheastern portion of the Congo State where it abuts upon British\nCentral Africa. The natives were at the time in arms against the Belgians,\nbut Rabinck had acquired such influence among them that he was still able\nto carry on his trade in ivory and","to that last odious abyss of hypocrisy.\nIt stands alone, colossal in its horror, colossal, too, in its effrontery.\n\nA few more anecdotes from the worthy Mr. Clark. This is an extract from a\nletter to the Chief of the District, Mueller:\n\n \"There is a matter I want to report to you regarding the Nkake\n sentries. You remember some time ago they took eleven canoes and shot\n some Ikoko people. As a proof they went to you with some hands, of","possible.\"\n\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\n\n \"Everywhere,\" he said, \"I hear the same news of the doings of the\n Congo Free State--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. It is\n said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... In Europe we\n understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\"\n\nOn","could take\n the place of all I saw worn. In all the district I never saw a single\n brass rod, nor any domestic animals except a few miserable chickens.\n The extreme poverty of the people is most remarkable. There is no\n doubt as to their desire to possess European goods, but they have\n nothing with which to buy except rubber and ivory, which is claimed by\n the State.\n\n \"It may be thought that I am painting their condition in too dark\n colours, but I feel it requires strong words to give a fair idea of\n the utter hop","cruel\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\"\n\nOn all sides he sees evidence of the utter disregard of humanity:\n\n \"To-day I saw the dead body of a carrier lying on the trail. There\n could have been no mistake about his being a sick man; he was nothing\n but skin and bones. These posts ought to give some care to the\n porters; the heartless disregard for life is abominable.... Native\n life is considered of no value by",", the two termini of the projected\nline, cities are rising, with stations, wharves and public buildings. In\nthe extreme southeast one would see an expedition under Stairs exploring\nand annexing the great district of Katanga, which abuts upon Northern\nRhodesia. In the furthest northeast and along the whole eastern border,\nsmall military expeditions would be disclosed, fighting against rebellious\nblacks or Arab raiders. Then, along all the lines of the rivers, posts\nwere being formed and stations established--some by the State and some by\nthe various","villages and gardens. It\ndecrees that all the products of this immense region are its private\nproperty, and it monopolizes the trade in them. As regards the primitive\nproprietors, the native tribes, they are dispossessed by a simple\ncircular; permission is graciously granted to them to collect such\nproducts, but only on condition that they bring them for sale to the State\nfor whatever the latter may be pleased to give them. As regards alien\ntraders, they are prohibited in all this territory from trading with the\nnatives.\"\n\nEverywhere there were stern orders","not more than six or seven years ago, there\n were at least 3,000! It made one's heart heavy to listen to the tales\n of bloodshed and cruelty. And it all seemed so foolish. To kill the\n people off in the wholesale way in which it has been done in this Lake\n district, because they would not bring in a sufficient quantity of\n rubber to satisfy the white man--and now here is an empty country and\n a very much diminished output of rubber as the inevitable\n consequence....\"\n\nFinally Mr. Sc","brought to an end), are cutting down the rubber vines instead of tapping\nthem (illegal, of course, but what does that matter where Belgian\nConcessionnaires are in question), goes on to show the pressure on the\npeople:\n\n \"The work is compulsory; it is also incessant. The vines have to be\n sought out in the forest, cut down and disentangled from the\n high-growing branches, divided into lengths, and carried home. This\n operation has to be continually repeated, as no man can carry a","complained officially to Commissaire Fievez:\n\n \"If you do not come soon and stop the present trouble the towns will\n be empty.... I entreat you to help us to have peace on the Lake.... It\n seems so hard to see the dead bodies in the creek and on the beach,\n and to know why they are killed.... People are living in the bush like\n wild beasts without shelter or proper food, and afraid to make fires.\n Many died in this way. One woman ran away with three children--they\n all died in the forest, and the","station and\n made to stand one behind the other, and an Albini bullet sent through\n them. 'A pity to waste cartridges on such wretches.' Only the roads to\n and fro from the various posts are kept open, and large tracts of\n country are abandoned to the wild beasts. The white man himself told\n me that you could walk on for five days in one direction, and not see\n a single village or a single human being. And this where formerly\n there was a big tribe!...\n\n \"As one by one the surviving relatives of","dusty and malodorous; covered with insects as their huge procession\n passes over mountains and through valleys; dying on the tramp, or,\n when the tramp is over, going to their villages to die of exhaustion.\"\n\nIt will be remembered that Captain Lothaire, having been acquitted of the\nmurder of Mr. Stokes, was sent out by King Leopold to act as\nmanaging-director of the Anversoise Trust. In 1898, he arrived in the\nMongalla District, and from then onward there"],["the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\n\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 188","that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\nAugust 10th, 1908. But responsibility cannot be so easily shaken off. The\nCongo State was founded by the Belgian King, and exploited by Belgian\ncapital, Belgian soldiers and Belgian concessionnaires. It was defended\nand upheld by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles","\n\n \"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\n consent and just compensation.\"\n\nAgain:\n\n \"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\"\n\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\n\n \"Humanity, whose cause we plead","possible.\"\n\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\n\n \"Everywhere,\" he said, \"I hear the same news of the doings of the\n Congo Free State--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. It is\n said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... In Europe we\n understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\"\n\nOn","had entered this dark land, and his\nexclamation was: \"The Bulgarian atrocities are child's play to what has\ntaken place here.\"\n\nFather Vermeersch then proceeds to deal with the Congo balance-sheets. His\ncriticism is most destructive. He shows at considerable length, and with a\nfine grasp of his subject, that there is really no connection at all\nbetween the so-called estimate and the actual budget. In the course of the\nState's development there is an excess running to millions of pounds which\nhas never been account","driven him to his death, and by the\nlast reports neither his relatives nor his creditors have received any\nportion of this large sum. Consider the whole story and say if it is\nexaggeration to state that Gustav Maria Rabinck was robbed and murdered by\nthe Congo Free State.\n\nHaving shown in these two examples the way in which the Congo Free State\nhas dared to treat the citizens of European States who have traded within\nher borders, I will now proceed to detail, in chronological order, some\naccount of the dark story of that State's relations","the State is a\nclose accomplice. Finally, the European directors of this bloodstained\ncompany are, or were at the time, the Senator Van der Nest, who acted as\nPresident; and as Council: Count John d'Oultremont, Grand Marshal of the\nBelgian Court; Baron Dhanis, of Congo fame, and M. van Eetevelde, the\ncreature of the King, and the writer of so many smug despatches to the\nBritish Government about the mission of civilization and the high purpose\nof the Congo State. Now","undertakings. They were, for the most\npart, dissolved, and then reconstructed under Congo law. In most cases, in\nreturn for the monopoly, the State was given control, sometimes to the\nextent of appointing all managers and agents. Half the shares of the\ncompany or half the profits were usually made over to the State. Thus one\nmust bear in mind in future that whether one talks of the Abir Company, of\nthe Kasai, the Katanga, the Anversoise, or any other, it is really with\nthe State--that is, with","ME CONGOLESE APOLOGIES\n\n\nIt only remains to examine some of the Congolese attempts to answer the\nunanswerable. It is but fair to hear the other side, and I will set down\nsuch points as they advance as clearly as I can:\n\n1.--_That the Congo State is independent and that it is no one else's\nbusiness what occurs within its borders._\n\nI have, I trust, clearly shown that by the Berlin Treaty of 1885 the State\nwas formed on certain conditions, and that these conditions as affecting\nboth","I\n\nHOW THE CONGO FREE STATE CAME TO BE FOUNDED\n\n\nIn the earlier years of his reign King Leopold of Belgium began to display\nthat interest in Central Africa which for a long time was ascribed to\nnobility and philanthropy, until the contrast between such motives, and\nthe actual unscrupulous commercialism, became too glaring to be sustained.\nAs far back as the year 1876 he called a conference of humanitarians and\ntravellers, who met at Brussels for the purpose of debating various plans\nby which","was won over to advancing ten\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\nsprang up which has eventually led to annexation. At the time of this loan\nKing Leopold let it be known that he had left the Congo Free State in his\nwill to Belgium. In this document appear the words, \"A young and spacious\nState, directed from Brussels, has pacifically appeared in the sunlight,\nthanks to the benevolent support of the Powers that have welcomed its\nappearance. Some Belgians administer it, while others","a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 1885 a State is formed for the \"moral and\nmaterial improvement of the native races.\" In 1903 the native \"is not\nentitled to anything.\" The two phrases mark the beginning and the end of\nKing Leopold's journey.\n\nIn 1904 the British Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\nof Consul Casement.",", first, Great Britain\nand the Congo State; secondly, Great Britain and Belgium. In each case\nGreat Britain was, indeed, the spokesman of the civilized world.\n\nSo far as one can trace, no strong protest was raised by the British\nGovernment at the time when the Congo State took the fatal step, the\ndirect cause of everything which has followed, of leaving the honest\npath, trodden up to that time by all European Colonies, and seizing the\nland of the country as their own. Only in 1896 do we find protests","a profit if a land be exploited as Spain exploited Central\nAmerica, or Belgium the Congo. It would always be more profitable to sack\na business than to run it. Now, if the forced revenue of the Congo State\ndisappeared, it would, at a moderate estimate, take a minimum of a million\na year for twenty years to bring the demoralized State back to the normal\ncondition of a tropical colony. Would Belgium pay this £20,000,000? It is\ncertain that she would not. Reform, then, is an",". He expressed to the\nCommissioners his disappointment at the failure of the Congo Government to\nrealize the promises with which it inaugurated its career. He declared he\ncould no longer wear the decorations which he had received from the\nSovereign of the Congo State. He gave it as his opinion that the ills the\ncountry was suffering from were due to the haste of a few men to get rich,\nand to the absence of anything like a serious attempt to properly police\nthe country in the interests of the people. He instanced the few judicial\nofficers, and","I am\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\n stay away.\"\n\n \"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\"\n\nIt is terrible to","claim that they had saved a part of the natives from slavery. How\nthey proceeded to impose upon all of them a yoke, compared to which the\nold slavery was merciful, will be shown in these pages. From the time of\nthe fall of the Arab power the Congo Free State was only called upon to\nuse military force in the case of mutinies of its own black troops, and of\noccasional risings of its own tormented \"citizens.\" Master of its own\nhouse, it could settle down to exploit the country which it had won.\n\n","ran away, kicked her. They talk of philanthropy and\n civilization! Where it is, I do not know.\"\n\nAnd again:\n\n \"Most white officers out on the Congo are averse to the india-rubber\n policy of the State, but the laws command it. Therefore, at each post\n one finds the natives deserting their homes, and escaping to the\n French side of the river when possible.\"\n\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\n\n \"Everywhere,\" he said, \"I hear the same news of the","the Congo forces upon the other--the latter consisting largely of\ncannibal tribes--men of the Stone Age, armed with the weapons of the\nnineteenth century. The suppression of the slave trade is a good cause,\nbut the means by which it was effected, and the use of Barbarians who ate\nin the evening those whom they had slain during the day, are as bad as the\nevil itself. Yet there is no denying the energy and ability of the Congo\nleaders, especially of Baron Dhanis. By the year 1894",", engaged by the Congo Free State as\n soldiers. In time of war, I suppose, they could be executed, after\n court-martial, by being shot; but to hang a subject of any other\n country without trial seems to me outrageous.\"\n\nTalking of the general unrest he says:\n\n \"It is the natural outcome of the harsh, cruel policy of the State in\n wringing rubber from these people without paying for it. The\n revolution will extend.\" He adds: \"The post (Isangi) is close to the\n large"],["citizens of a generous country, appealing to their religion, to their\n patriotism, to their hearts.\"\n\nSurely after such evidence from such a source there must be some\nheart-searchings among those higher members of the Catholic hierarchy,\nincluding both Cardinals and Bishops, who have done what they could to\ncripple the efforts of the reformers. Misinformed through their own want\nof care in searching for the truth, they have stood before the whole world\nas the defenders of that which will be described by the historian as the\ngreatest crime in history.\n","the admissions of the Belgian\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by","work was in the interest of God. But here the real doers have sat\nremote with cold blood in their veins, knowing well from day to day what\nthey were doing, and with the sole object of adding more to wealth which\nwas already enormous. Consider this circumstance and consider also the\nprofessions of philanthropy with which the huge massacre was inaugurated,\nthe cloud of lies with which it has been screened, the persecution and\ncalumny of the few honest men who uncovered it, the turning of religion\nagainst religion and of nation against nation in the attempt to","had been held up as a step toward improvement. The\nBritish Government had been assured that his visit would be of a nature to\neffect all necessary reforms. On arriving in the country, however, he\nannounced that he had no power to act, and only came to see and hear. Thus\na few more months were gained before any change could be effected. The\nonly small consolation which we can draw from all this succession of\nimpotent ambassadors and reforming committees, which do not, and were\nnever intended to, reform, is that the game has","to the Palace at Brussels. M.\nWahis, the Governor-General, a man who has played a sinister part in the\ncountry, came up the river and endeavoured to get the outspoken Swede to\ncontradict himself, or, failing that, to intimidate him. To get at the\ntruth or to right the wrong seems to have been the last thing in his mind,\nfor he knew well that the wrong was essential to the system, and that\nwithout it the wheels would move more slowly and the head engineer in\nEurope would soon wish to know what","tridges and remarked,\n\"I can turn those into 25,000 pounds of rubber.\" Captain Lothaire believed\nin the same trade methods, for his fighting and his output increased\ntogether. It is worth while to slaughter one-fourth of the population if\nthe effect is to drive the others to frenzied and unceasing work.\n\nNo definite details might ever have reached Europe of those doings had not\nLothaire made the capital mistake of quarrelling with his subordinates.\nOne of these, named Lacroix, sent a communication to","in\n order to disguise or mislead justice. If the sentinels were puzzled\n about this message, what would the natives be?\"\n\nI have said that there was more to be said for the cannibal murderers than\nfor those who worked the system. The capitas pleaded the same excuse.\n\"Don't take this to heart so much,\" said one of them to the missionary.\n\"They kill us if we do not bring rubber. The Commissary has promised us if\nwe bring plenty of hands he will shorten our service. I have","without the authority of the\n Governor-General.\"\n\nAnd, finally, his reasons for writing his book:\n\n \"The contemplation of an immeasurable misery has caused us to publish\n this book. The gravity of the evil, its roots causes, had long escaped\n us. When we knew them we could not retain within ourselves the\n compassion with which we were imbued, and we resolved to tell the\n citizens of a generous country, appealing to their religion, to their\n patriotism, to their hearts.\"\n\nSurely after such evidence from such","which there\nis any record, has been reserved for these latter years. Some excuse there\nis for racial extermination where, as with Saxons and Celts, two peoples\ncontend for the same land which will but hold one. Some excuse, too, for\nreligious massacre when, like Mahomet the Second at Constantinople, or\nAlva in the Lowlands, the bigoted murderers honestly conceived that their\nbrutal work was in the interest of God. But here the real doers have sat\nremote with cold blood in their veins, knowing well from day to day","m seem inoffensive. What they actually were was, as we have seen, some\ntwenty thousand cannibals armed with Albini repeating rifles. The Report\nsays:\n\n \"This system of native supervisors (_surveillants_) has given rise to\n numerous criticisms, even on the part of State officials. The\n Protestant missionaries heard at Bolobo, Ikoko (Lake Mantumba),\n Lulonga, Bonginda, Ikau, Baringa and Bongandanga, drew up formid",".\"\n\nThat last sentence seems the crown of the arch. If the agents on the spot\ndid not attempt before the Commission to deny the outrages who shall\nventure to do it in their name?\n\nThe remainder of the Report, though stuffed with courtly platitudes and\nwith vague recommendations of reform which are absolutely unpractical, so\nlong as the root causes of all the trouble remain undisturbed, contains a\nfew positive passages which are worth preserving. Talking of the want of\ndefinite instructions to military expeditions, it says:\n\n \"The","\n \"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\n into this state now.\"\n\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty","never\npublished at all, in spite of an informal assurance to Lord Lansdowne that\nnothing would be held back. Only the conclusions saw the light, without\nthe document upon which they were founded.\n\nThe effect of that Report, when stripped of its courtly phrases, was an\nabsolute confirmation of all that had been said by so many witnesses\nduring so many years. It is easy to blame the Commissioners for not having\nthe full courage of their convictions, but their position was full of\ndifficulty. The Report was really a personal one. The State was,","in such a way that he might be justified, in\n case it should become known and an investigation should be made. In\n such a case the Commissary could say, 'Why, I told him openly not to\n kill any more' and he might put the blame on the soldier to justify\n himself, though the blame and the punishment in all its force ought to\n have been put on himself, after he had done such a terrible act in\n order to disguise or mislead justice. If the sentinels were puzzled\n about this message, what would the natives","was there to preach!\n\nMr. Sjoblom seems to have been unable to believe at first that such deeds\nwere done with the knowledge and approval of the whites. He ventured to\nappeal to the Commissary. \"He turned in anger on me,\" he adds, \"and in the\npresence of the soldiers said that he would expel me from the town if I\nmeddled with matters of that kind any more.\"\n\nIt would, indeed, have been rather absurd for the Commissary to interfere\nwhen the severed hand had actually been cut off","want? Tell us, and we will get it for\n you.'\"\n\nSpeaking of English scepticism as to King Leopold's intentions, he says:\n\n \"Though they understand the satisfaction of a sentiment when applied\n to England, they are slow to understand that it may be a sentiment\n that induced King Leopold II. to father this International\n Association. He is a dreamer, like his _confrères_ in the work,\n because the sentiment is applied to the neglected millions of the Dark\n Continent. They cannot appreciate rightly","and sufferings.\"\n\nThe action was taken for criminal libel by M. Hagstrom against Mr.\nStannard, for saying that this evidence had been given before the\nCommission. Of course, the only way to establish the fact was a reference\nto the evidence itself which lay at Brussels. But as Hagstrom was only a\npuppet of the higher Government of the Congo (which means the King\nhimself), in their attempt to revenge themselves upon the missionaries it\nwas not very likely that official documents would be produced for the mere\npurpose of serving","\nReport they indicated that the question of the State appropriation of the\nland had forced itself upon their notice. \"If the State wishes to avoid\nthe principle of the State appropriation of vacant lands resulting in\nabuse,\" says the Report, \"it should place its agents and officials on\ntheir guard against too restrictive interpretation and too rigorous\napplications.\" Weak and trimming, it is true, but it was the cornerstone\nof all that the King had built, and how were they to knock it rudely out?\nTheir attitude was not heroic. But it was natural","est between humanity and civilization on one side and cruel greed upon\nthe other.\n\nThe organization of the Catholic Church is more disciplined, and admits of\nless individualism than that of those religious bodies which supplied the\nvaliant champions of right in the Congo. The simple priests were doubtless\nas horrified as others, within the limit of their knowledge, but the means\nof expression were denied them. M. Colfs, himself a Catholic, said in the\nBelgian Chamber: \"Our missionaries have less liberty than foreign\nmissionaries. They are expected to keep silence.... There is","body,\nthe matter would have been simple. But of the three good care had been\ntaken that two should be men who would have to answer for what was said.\nMr. Janssens was a more or less independent man, but a Belgian, and a\nsubject all the same. Baron Nisco was in the actual employ of the King,\nand his future was at stake. On the whole, I think that the Commissioners\nacted like brave and honest men.\n\nNaturally they laid all stress upon what could be said in favour of the\nKing and his creation. They"],["was won over to advancing ten\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\nsprang up which has eventually led to annexation. At the time of this loan\nKing Leopold let it be known that he had left the Congo Free State in his\nwill to Belgium. In this document appear the words, \"A young and spacious\nState, directed from Brussels, has pacifically appeared in the sunlight,\nthanks to the benevolent support of the Powers that have welcomed its\nappearance. Some Belgians administer it, while others","Grey declared that we\n\"could not wait forever,\" and yet we see that he is waiting still. In 1908\nthe long looked-for annexation came at last, and the Congo State exchanged\nthe blue flag with the golden star for the tricolour of Belgium. Immediate\nand radical reforms were promised, but the matter ended as all previous\npromises have done. In 1909 M. Renkin, the Belgian Colonial Minister, went\nout to inspect the Congo State, and had the frankness before going to say\nthat nothing would be","that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\nAugust 10th, 1908. But responsibility cannot be so easily shaken off. The\nCongo State was founded by the Belgian King, and exploited by Belgian\ncapital, Belgian soldiers and Belgian concessionnaires. It was defended\nand upheld by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles","the admissions of the Belgian\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by","claimed to belong, not to the\ninhabitants, but to the State--that is, to King Leopold.\n\nWith this sheaf of treaties in his portfolio the King of the Belgians now\napproached the Powers with high sentiments of humanitarianism, and with a\ndefinite request that the State which he was forming should receive some\nrecognized status among the nations. Was he at that time consciously\nhypocritical? Did he already foresee how widely his future actions would\ndiffer from his present professions? It is a problem which will interest\n",", which will take another year\nto produce, and will be utterly futile when reduced to practice. But the\nworld has seen this game too often. Surely it will not be made a fool of\nagain. There is some limit to European patience.\n\nMeanwhile, in this very month of August, 1909, a full year after the\nannexation by Belgium (an annexation, be it mentioned, which will not be\nofficially recognized by Great Britain until she is satisfied in the\nmatter of reforms), Prince Albert, the heir to the throne,","this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all the honours\nof war. M. de Favereau, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, alternately\nexplained that there was no connection at all between Belgium and the\nCongo State, and that it was a breach of Belgian patriotism to attack the\nlatter. The policy of the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which",", he can do so in several ways. He can join the Congo\nReform Association (Granville House, Arundel Street, W. C.). He can write\nto his local member and aid in getting up local meetings to ventilate the\nquestion. Finally, he can pass this book on and purchase other copies, for\nany profits will be used in setting the facts before the French and German\npublic.\n\nIt may be objected that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\nAug","the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\n\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 188","oulded.\n\nIn the meantime King Leopold, feeling the weakness of his personal\nposition in face of the great enterprise which lay before him in Africa,\nendeavoured more and more to draw Belgium, as a State, into the matter.\nAlready the Congo State was largely the outcome of Belgian work and of\nBelgian money, but, theoretically, there was no connection between the two\ncountries. Now the Belgian Parliament was won over to advancing ten\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\nsprang up which has eventually","a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital, and was endorsed and\ndefended by Belgian governments. It is out of the question that Belgium\nshould remain on the Congo.\n\nNor, in face of reform, would Belgium wish to be there. She could not\ncarry the burden. When the country is restored to its inhabitants together\nwith their freedom, it will be in the same position as those German and\nEnglish colonies which entail heavy annual expenditure from the mother\n","did not ask and desire their co-operation.\n\nFrom this date remonstrances were frequent from the British Government,\nthough they inadequately represented the anger and impatience of those\nBritish subjects who were aware of the true state of affairs. The British\nGovernment refrained from going to extremes because it was understood that\nthere would shortly be a Belgian annexation, and it was hoped that this\nwould mark the beginning of better things without the necessity for our\nintervention. Delay followed delay, and nothing was done. A Liberal\nGovernment was as",", therefore, since whatever happens must be\nfor the better.\n\nCan a solution be found through Belgium?\n\nNo, it is impossible, and that should be recognized from the outset. The\nBelgians have been given their chance. They have had nearly twenty-five\nyears of undisturbed possession, and they have made it a hell upon earth.\nThey cannot disassociate themselves from this work or pretend that it was\ndone by a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital,","stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\nsources. Everywhere, in flagrant disregard of the Treaty of Berlin, the\nState proclaimed itself to be the sole landlord and the sole trader. In\nsome cases it worked its own so-called property, in other cases it leased\nit. Even those who had striven to help King Leopold in the earlier stages\nof his enterprise were thrown overboard. Major Parminter, himself engaged\nin trade upon the Cong","that he was poisoned. There is much that is of the sixteenth\ncentury in this State, besides its views of its duties to the natives.\n\nBefore passing these revelations with the attendant burst of candour in\nthe Belgian Press, it may be well to transcribe the following remark in an\ninterview from a returned Congo official which appeared in the _Antwerp\nNieuw Gazet_ (April 10th, 1900). He says:\n\n \"When first commissioned to establish a fort, I was given some native\n soldiers and a","the palisades in the\n form of a cross.\"\n\nIn the face of these fresh revelations there was an outburst of feeling in\nBelgium, showing that it is only their ignorance of the true facts which\nprevents the inhabitants of that country from showing the same humanity as\nany other civilized nation would do. They have not yet realized the foul\nthings which have been done in their name. Surely when they do realize it\nthere will be a terrible reckoning! Some were already very alive to the\nquestion. MM. Vandervelde and Lorand fought br","was destined to crush out all general private trade in\na country as large as the whole of Europe with Russia omitted. That was\nthe admitted outcome of their enterprise. Now listen to M. Beernaert, the\nBelgian Premier, speaking in the year 1885:\n\n \"The State, of which our King will be the Sovereign, will be a sort of\n international Colony. There will be no monopolies, no privileges....\n Quite the contrary: absolute freedom of commerce, freedom of property,\n freedom of navigation.\"\n\n","I am\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\n stay away.\"\n\n \"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\"\n\nIt is terrible to","\n\n \"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\n consent and just compensation.\"\n\nAgain:\n\n \"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\"\n\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\n\n \"Humanity, whose cause we plead",".\n\nAnd what shall that action be? War with Belgium? On them must rest the\nresponsibility for that. Our measures must be directed against the Congo\nState, which has not yet been recognized by us as being a possession of\nBelgium. If Belgium take up the quarrel then so be it. There are many ways\nin which we can bring the Congo State to her knees. A blockade of the\nCongo is one, but it has the objection of the international complications\nwhich might ensue. An easier way would be to proclaim this guilty land as\nan out"],["\n to.\"\n\nAs he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent\npeace, his comments become more bitter. The nascent rubber trade began to\nintrude its methods upon his notice:\n\n \"Formerly the natives were well treated, but now expeditions have been\n sent in every direction, forcing natives to make rubber and to bring\n it to the stations. Up the Ikelemba, we are taking down one hundred\n slaves, mere children, all taken in unholy wars against the\n natives.... It was","children--are placed\nin rows before the Commissary, who counts them to see the soldiers have\nnot wasted the cartridges. The Commissary is paid a commission of about a\npenny per pound upon all the rubber he gets; it is, therefore, to his\ninterest to get as much as he can.\"\n\nHere is corroboration and amplification of all that Mr. Glaves had put\nforward. The system had not been long established, and was more efficient\nten or twelve years later, but already it was bearing some notable first\nfruits of civilization. King Leop","it was hoped would shortly be increased to ten\n tons. The quantity of rubber brought by the three men in question\n would have represented, probably, for the three of them certainly not\n less than seven kilog. of pure rubber. That would be a very safe\n estimate, and at an average of 7fr. per kilog. they might be said to\n have brought in £2 worth of rubber. In return for this labour, or\n imposition, they had received goods which cost certainly under 1_s._,\n and whose local valuation came to ","asked by the rubber agent if he would bring\n in rubber now. He replied that he would. Although a chief of\n considerable standing, he has been flogged, imprisoned, tied by the\n neck with men who were regarded as slaves, made to do the most menial\n work, and his beard, which was of many years' growth, and reached\n almost to the ground, was cut off by the rubber agent because he\n visited another town.\"\n\nLontulu was cross-examined by the Commission and his evidence was not\nshaken. Here are some of","their\n country, but without avail. The rifles were too much for them. So they\n submitted, and made up their minds to do the best they could under the\n altered circumstances. First came the command to build houses for the\n soldiers, and this was done without a murmur. Then they had to feed\n the soldiers, and all the men and women--hangers-on--who accompanied\n them.\n\n \"Then they were told to bring in rubber. This was quite a new thing\n for them to do. There was rubber in the forest several days away","\"Considering that\nno concession has been granted to gather rubber in the domains of the\nState within this district, (1) natives can only gather rubber on\ncondition of selling the same to the State; (2) any person or persons or\nvessels having in his or their possession, or on board, more than one\nkilogramme of rubber will have a _procèsverbal_ drawn up against him, or\nthem, or it; and the ship can be confiscated without prejudice to any\nsubsequent proceedings.\"\n\nThe sight of these","\"Then they were told to bring in rubber. This was quite a new thing\n for them to do. There was rubber in the forest several days away from\n their home, but that it was worth anything was news to them. A small\n reward was offered, and a rush was made for the rubber; 'What strange\n white men, to give us cloth and beads for the sap of a wild vine.'\n They rejoiced in what they thought was their good fortune. But soon\n the reward was reduced until they were told to bring in the rubber for\n nothing. To this they",":\n\n \"The war on account of rubber. The State demands that the natives\n shall make rubber and sell same to its agents at a very low price. The\n natives do not like it. It is hard work and very poor pay, and takes\n them away from their homes into the forest, where they feel very\n unsafe, as there are always feuds among them.... The rubber from this\n district has cost hundreds of lives, and the scenes I have witnessed\n while unable to help the oppressed have been almost enough to make me\n wish I were dead.","production of india-rubber. I did not see this\n correspondence, and cannot vouch for the truth of the statement; but\n the officer who informed me that it had passed before his own eyes was\n one of the highest standing in the interior.\"\n\nAnother witness showed the exact ratio between cartridges and rubber:\n\n \"'The S. A. B. on the Bussira, with 150 guns, get only ten tons\n (rubber) a month; we, the State, at Momboyo, with 130 guns, get","iquitous trade. Let me give an\n incident to show how this unrighteous trade affects the people. One\n day a State corporal, who was in charge of the post of Solifa, was\n going round the town collecting rubber. Meeting a poor woman, whose\n husband was away fishing, he asked: 'Where is your husband?' She\n answered by pointing to the river. He then asked: 'Where is his\n rubber?' She answered: 'It is ready for you.' Whereupon he said 'You\n lie,' and lifting up his gun, shot her dead","armed with rifles and let loose to hunt and kill people,\n because they do not get rubber to sell at a mere nothing to the State,\n _and it is blood-curdling to see them returning with hands of the\n slain and to find the hands of young children, amongst bigger ones,\n evidencing their 'bravery.'_\"\n\nThe following was written on May 3rd, 1895:\n\n \"The war on account of rubber. The State demands that the natives\n shall make rubber and sell same to its agents at a","what I was told. But I heard the same story so often, and in so many\n different places, that I was at last obliged to accept it. On my\n return I followed up this track, and found that it was all true. And I\n found also that the rubber is collected from the Domaine Privé in\n forests from ten to forty miles beyond the boundary of the Crown\n Domain.\n\n \"Once the vines had been found the working of the rubber is a small\n part of the labour. I have made a careful calculation of the distance\n ","95 more than 650 tons of\n rubber, bought (_sic_) for 2-1/2_d._ (European price), and sold at\n Antwerp for 5_s._ 5_d._ per kilo (2 lbs.).\"\n\nA later bulletin adds:\n\n \"With this development of general order is combined an inevitable\n amelioration in the native's condition of existence _wherever he comes\n into contact with the European element_....\n\n \"Such is, in fact, one of the ends of the","-ci pourrait commettre en route.\n\n \"Le Capitaine-Commandant,\n (Signé) \"SARRAZZYN.\"\n\n \"_Colquilhatville, le 1er Mai, 1896._\"\n\nPretty good for the State which boasts that it has put down the slave\ntrade.\n\nThere is a passage showing the working of the rubber system which is so\nclear and authoritative that I transcribe it in full:\n\n \"I went to the homes of these men some miles away and found out","not more than six or seven years ago, there\n were at least 3,000! It made one's heart heavy to listen to the tales\n of bloodshed and cruelty. And it all seemed so foolish. To kill the\n people off in the wholesale way in which it has been done in this Lake\n district, because they would not bring in a sufficient quantity of\n rubber to satisfy the white man--and now here is an empty country and\n a very much diminished output of rubber as the inevitable\n consequence....\"\n\nFinally Mr. Sc","visit to the West End establishment showed that the salesmen behind\n the counter were well-dressed and well-nourished, ignoring altogether\n the festering misery of the sweaters' dens in which every article sold\n over that counter was made up.\"\n\nAfter showing that the Kasai Company, in their haste for wealth (and,\nperhaps, in their foresight, as knowing that their occupancy may be\nbrought to an end), are cutting down the rubber vines instead of tapping\nthem (illegal, of course, but what does that matter","so\nclear and authoritative that I transcribe it in full:\n\n \"I went to the homes of these men some miles away and found out their\n circumstances. To get the rubber they had first to go fully a two\n days' journey from their homes, leaving their wives, and being absent\n for from five to six days. They were seen to the forest limits under\n guard, and if not back by the sixth day trouble was likely to ensue.\n To get the rubber in the forests--which, generally speaking, are very\n swampy--involves much","Lothaire, in similar circumstances, was allowed to slip\nfrom the country. An insignificant agent may be occasionally made an\nexample of, but to punish the local manager of a great company would be to\nlessen the output of rubber, and what are morality and justice compared to\nthat?\n\nWhy should one continue with the testimony given before the Commission?\nTheir wanderings covered a little space of the country and were confined\nto the main river, but everywhere they elicited the same tale of slavery,\nmutilation, and murder. What Scrivener and","est abuses.\n\n \"There is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a\n totally inadequate wage. In visiting the various rubber-working towns,\n one would expect to see some signs of European commodities that had\n been given in exchange for the millions of pounds' worth of rubber\n that has been extracted from them, but the native residents possess\n actually nothing at all.\n\n \"_Their conditions of living are deplorable_, and the filth and\n squalor of their villages is only too apparent. _The people live in","the\nriver, a distance of 2,000 miles. The agent and rubber systems were still\nin their infancy, but already he remarked on every side that violence and\ndisregard of human life which were so soon to grow to such proportions.\nRemember that he was himself a Stanleyman, a pioneer and a native trader,\nby no means easy to shock. Here are some of his remarks as taken from his\ndiary.\n\nDealing with the release of slaves by the Belgians, for which so much\ncredit has been claimed, he says (_Cent"],["administrative authorities of the\n region.\"\n\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\n\n \"In the morning, when about to start for K----, many people from the\n surrounding country came in to see me. They brought with them three\n individuals who had been shockingly wounded by gun fire, two men and a\n very small boy, not more than six years of age, and a fourth--a boy\n child of six or seven--whose right hand was cut off at the wrist. One\n of the men, who had been shot through the arm,","said:\n\n \"I also told them what we had seen on the Ikelemba, of the signs of\n desolation in all the districts, of the heartrending stories the\n people told us, of the butcheries wrought by the various white men of\n the State and companies who had, from time to time, been stationed\n there among whom a few names were notorious. I pointed out to them the\n fact that the basin of the Ikelemba was supposed to be free-trade\n territory also, but that everywhere the people","regret\n still more that an impenetrable veil hides from sight all that takes\n place in the territory of this _Domaine_. IT IS EIGHT OR TEN TIMES THE\n SIZE OF BELGIUM, AND THROUGHOUT THIS VAST EXTENT OF TERRITORY THERE IS\n NEITHER MISSIONARY NOR MAGISTRATE.\"\n\nOnly one missionary at that date had entered this dark land, and his\nexclamation was: \"The Bulgarian atrocities are child's play to what has\ntaken","not more than six or seven years ago, there\n were at least 3,000! It made one's heart heavy to listen to the tales\n of bloodshed and cruelty. And it all seemed so foolish. To kill the\n people off in the wholesale way in which it has been done in this Lake\n district, because they would not bring in a sufficient quantity of\n rubber to satisfy the white man--and now here is an empty country and\n a very much diminished output of rubber as the inevitable\n consequence....\"\n\nFinally Mr. Sc","said they were runaways from a district a\n little distance away, where rubber was being collected. They told us\n some horrible tales of murder and starvation, and when we heard all we\n wondered that men so maltreated should be able to live without\n retaliation. The boys and girls were naked, and I gave them each a\n strip of calico, much to their wonderment....\n\n \"Four hours and a half brought us to a place called Sa.... On the way\n we passed two villages with more people than we had seen for days.\n","Lothaire, in similar circumstances, was allowed to slip\nfrom the country. An insignificant agent may be occasionally made an\nexample of, but to punish the local manager of a great company would be to\nlessen the output of rubber, and what are morality and justice compared to\nthat?\n\nWhy should one continue with the testimony given before the Commission?\nTheir wanderings covered a little space of the country and were confined\nto the main river, but everywhere they elicited the same tale of slavery,\nmutilation, and murder. What Scrivener and","villages and gardens. It\ndecrees that all the products of this immense region are its private\nproperty, and it monopolizes the trade in them. As regards the primitive\nproprietors, the native tribes, they are dispossessed by a simple\ncircular; permission is graciously granted to them to collect such\nproducts, but only on condition that they bring them for sale to the State\nfor whatever the latter may be pleased to give them. As regards alien\ntraders, they are prohibited in all this territory from trading with the\nnatives.\"\n\nEverywhere there were stern orders","and, in fact, a great deal more, to prove\n the state of terrorism that exists, and the virtual slavery in which\n the people are held....\n\n \"So much for the journey to the Lake. It has enlarged my knowledge of\n the country, and also, alas! my knowledge of the awful deeds enacted\n in the mad haste of men to get rich. So far as I know, I am the first\n white man to go into the _Domaine Privé_ of the King, other than the\n employees of the State","of men, women and\nchildren killed by the sentries of a M. Pilaet.\n\n \"Last year,\" he says, \"or the year before, the young woman, Imenega,\n was tied to a forked tree and chopped in half with a hatchet,\n beginning at the left shoulder, chopping down through the chest and\n abdomen and out at the side.\" Again, with every detail of name and\n place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been\n enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and","\n \"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\n into this state now.\"\n\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty","ner's time, and stated that no\n village in this district had escaped murders under this man's\n _régime_.\n\n \"Next we dealt with irregularities common to all agents, calling\n attention to and proving by specific instances the public floggings of\n practically any and every one; quoting, for instance, seeing with my\n own eyes six Ngombe men receive one hundred strokes each, delivered\n simultaneously by two sentries.\n\n \"Next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men,\n ","dusty and malodorous; covered with insects as their huge procession\n passes over mountains and through valleys; dying on the tramp, or,\n when the tramp is over, going to their villages to die of exhaustion.\"\n\nIt will be remembered that Captain Lothaire, having been acquitted of the\nmurder of Mr. Stokes, was sent out by King Leopold to act as\nmanaging-director of the Anversoise Trust. In 1898, he arrived in the\nMongalla District, and from then onward there","the\n village, which the collection of the rubber entailed. The soldiers\n discovered them sitting about. 'What, not gone yet?' Bang! bang! bang!\n bang! And down fell one and another, dead, in the midst of wives and\n companions. There is a terrible wail, and an attempt made to prepare\n the dead for burial, but this is not allowed. All must go at once to\n the forest. And off the poor wretches had to go, without even their\n tinderboxes to make fires. Many died in the forests","chase them as the others had done, but after what they had suffered\n they did not trust more any one's word, and they had fled from their\n country and were now going to stay here, far from their homes, in this\n country where there was no rubber.\n\n \"_Q._ 'How long is it since you left your homes, since the big trouble\n you speak of?'\n\n \"_A._ 'It lasted for three full seasons, and it is now four seasons\n since we fled and came into the K---- country.'\n\n \"_Q._ 'How","\n to.\"\n\nAs he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent\npeace, his comments become more bitter. The nascent rubber trade began to\nintrude its methods upon his notice:\n\n \"Formerly the natives were well treated, but now expeditions have been\n sent in every direction, forcing natives to make rubber and to bring\n it to the stations. Up the Ikelemba, we are taking down one hundred\n slaves, mere children, all taken in unholy wars against the\n natives.... It was","of the\n so-called 'rubber tax.'\"\n\nOn November 28th he writes:\n\n \"The State soldiers brought in seven hands, and reported having shot\n the people in the act of running away to the French side, etc.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\n \"We found all that the soldiers had reported was untrue, and that the\n statements made by the natives to me were true. We saw only six\n bodies; a seventh had evidently fallen into the water, and we learned\n in a day or two","saw an\noutrage. No doubt he had formed the opinion that his brethren had been\nexaggerating. Then one day he heard an outburst of firing, and turned his\nlittle steamer to the spot. This is what he saw: \"They were horrified to\nfind the native soldiers of the Government under the eyes of their white\nofficers engaged in mutilating the dead bodies of the natives who had just\nbeen killed. Three native bodies were lying near the river's edge and\nhuman limbs were lying within a few yards from the steamer. A","it had been brought\nunder his notice.\n\nMr. Scrivener, a gentleman who had been twenty-three years on the Congo,\nwas the next witness. His evidence was largely the same as the \"Diary\"\nfrom which I have already quoted, concerning the condition of the Crown\nDomain. Many witnesses were examined. \"How do you know the names of the\nmen murdered?\" a lad was asked. \"One of them was my father,\" was the\ndramatic reply. \"Men of stone,\" wrote Mr. Scrivener, \"would be moved by\nthe stories that are","the experience\nof Rev. Mr. Scrivener, an English missionary, who in July, August and\nSeptember, 1903, traversed a section of the Crown Domain, that same region\nspecially assigned to King Leopold in person, in which Mr. Clark had spent\nso many nightmare years. We shall see how far the independent testimony of\nthe Englishman and the American, the one extracted from a diary, the other\nfrom a succession of letters, corroborate each other:\n\n \"At six in the morning woke up to find it still raining.","their\n country, but without avail. The rifles were too much for them. So they\n submitted, and made up their minds to do the best they could under the\n altered circumstances. First came the command to build houses for the\n soldiers, and this was done without a murmur. Then they had to feed\n the soldiers, and all the men and women--hangers-on--who accompanied\n them.\n\n \"Then they were told to bring in rubber. This was quite a new thing\n for them to do. There was rubber in the forest several days away"],["WHOLE OF THE LAND,\n WITH THIS CONSEQUENCE: THAT IT CAN DISPOSE--ITSELF AND SOLELY--OF ALL\n THE PRODUCTS OF THE SOIL; PROSECUTE AS A POACHER ANY ONE WHO TAKES\n FROM THAT LAND THE LEAST OF ITS FRUITS, OR AS A RECEIVER OF STOLEN\n GOODS ANY ONE WHO RECEIVES SUCH FRUIT: FORBID ANY ONE TO ESTABLISH\n HIMSELF ON THE GREATER PART OF","\n\n \"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\n consent and just compensation.\"\n\nAgain:\n\n \"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\"\n\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\n\n \"Humanity, whose cause we plead",", indispensable in natural law that I\n should exhaust the utility of an article or of land in order to be\n able to claim it as my own; it suffices that I should make use of it\n in a positive manner, but of my own will, personally, and that I\n should have the will to forbid any stranger to use it without my\n consent. Hence effective occupation is joined to intention, and all\n the constituent elements to a valid title of property exist. Let us\n suppose, moreover, that some great Belgian landowner wishes to convert\n","is satisfied with\n him, that he is telling the truth, and therefore say that it is\n unnecessary. He tells how his beard of many years' growth, and which\n nearly reached his feet, was cut off by a rubber agent, merely because\n he visited a friend in another town. Asked if he had not killed\n A.B.I.R. sentries, he denied it, but owned to his people spearing\n three of the sentry's boys. He tells how the white man fought him, and\n when the fight was over handed him his corpses","ought that he was giving permission for the establishment of a station.\nThe idea that he was actually bartering away the land was never even in\nhis mind, for it was held by a communal tenure for the whole tribe, and it\nwas not his to barter. And yet it is on the strength of such treaties as\nthese that twenty millions of people have been expropriated, and the whole\nwealth and land of the country proclaimed to belong, not to the\ninhabitants, but to the State--that is, to King Leopold.\n\nWith this sheaf","villages and gardens. It\ndecrees that all the products of this immense region are its private\nproperty, and it monopolizes the trade in them. As regards the primitive\nproprietors, the native tribes, they are dispossessed by a simple\ncircular; permission is graciously granted to them to collect such\nproducts, but only on condition that they bring them for sale to the State\nfor whatever the latter may be pleased to give them. As regards alien\ntraders, they are prohibited in all this territory from trading with the\nnatives.\"\n\nEverywhere there were stern orders","the constituent elements to a valid title of property exist. Let us\n suppose, moreover, that some great Belgian landowner wishes to convert\n portions of his property into sporting land--that land, nevertheless,\n remains in his entire possession. Amongst the Congo natives, no doubt,\n occupation is usually collective; but such occupation is as worthy of\n respect as no matter what individual appropriation.\"\n\nHe continues:\n\n \"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to","their means of existence.\" Such are the words of 1886. Before the end of\n1887, an Act had been published, though not immediately put into force,\nwhich had the exactly opposite effect. By this Act all lands which were\nnot actually occupied by natives were proclaimed to be the property of the\nState. Consider for a moment what this meant! No land in such a country is\nactually occupied by natives save the actual site of their villages, and\nthe scanty fields of grain or manioc which surround them. Everywhere\nbeyond these tiny patches","and, in fact, a great deal more, to prove\n the state of terrorism that exists, and the virtual slavery in which\n the people are held....\n\n \"So much for the journey to the Lake. It has enlarged my knowledge of\n the country, and also, alas! my knowledge of the awful deeds enacted\n in the mad haste of men to get rich. So far as I know, I am the first\n white man to go into the _Domaine Privé_ of the King, other than the\n employees of the State","of tenure over\n the land they actually cultivate, or certain rights of\n usage--wood-cutting, hunting, fishing--on the remainder of the\n territory; but these rights of usage, which are much more important\n than with us, appear to imply a full _animus domini_, and to signify a\n complete appropriation, which is carried out amongst us in different\n fashion. It is not, in effect, indispensable in natural law that I\n should exhaust the utility of an article or of land in order to be\n able to claim it","in the grass, within a few yards of\n the house I was occupying, were numbers of human bones, in some cases\n complete skeletons. I counted thirty-six skulls, and saw many sets of\n bones from which the skulls were missing. I called one of the men, and\n asked the meaning of it. 'When the rubber palaver began,' said he,\n 'the soldiers shot so many we grew tired of burying, and very often we\n were not allowed to bury, and so just dragged the bodies out into the\n grass and","ly before all, pointed to his twenty\n witnesses, placed on the table his one hundred and ten twigs, each\n twig representing a life for rubber. 'These are chiefs' twigs, these\n are men's, these shorter are women's, these smaller still are\n children's.' He gives the names of scores, but begs for permission to\n call his son as a reminder. The Commission, though, is satisfied with\n him, that he is telling the truth, and therefore say that it is\n unnecessary. He tells how his beard of many years","\nReport they indicated that the question of the State appropriation of the\nland had forced itself upon their notice. \"If the State wishes to avoid\nthe principle of the State appropriation of vacant lands resulting in\nabuse,\" says the Report, \"it should place its agents and officials on\ntheir guard against too restrictive interpretation and too rigorous\napplications.\" Weak and trimming, it is true, but it was the cornerstone\nof all that the King had built, and how were they to knock it rudely out?\nTheir attitude was not heroic. But it was natural","\n place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been\n enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and father with\n daughter. \"Oh, Inglesia,\" cried the chief in conclusion, \"don't stay\n away long; if you do, they will come, I am sure they will come, and\n then these enfeebled legs will not support me, I cannot run away. I am\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\n stay away.\"\n\n ","all that the King had built, and how were they to knock it rudely out?\nTheir attitude was not heroic. But it was natural. They go on:\n\n \"As the greater portion of the land in the Congo is not under\n cultivation, this interpretation concedes to the State A RIGHT OF\n ABSOLUTE AND EXCLUSIVE OWNERSHIP OVER VIRTUALLY THE WHOLE OF THE LAND,\n WITH THIS CONSEQUENCE: THAT IT CAN DISPOSE--ITSELF AND SOLELY--OF ALL","stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\nsources. Everywhere, in flagrant disregard of the Treaty of Berlin, the\nState proclaimed itself to be the sole landlord and the sole trader. In\nsome cases it worked its own so-called property, in other cases it leased\nit. Even those who had striven to help King Leopold in the earlier stages\nof his enterprise were thrown overboard. Major Parminter, himself engaged\nin trade upon the Cong","ed like brave and honest men.\n\nNaturally they laid all stress upon what could be said in favour of the\nKing and his creation. They would have been more than human had they not\ndone so. They enlarged upon the size and the traffic of the cities at the\nmouth of the Congo--as if the whole loot of a nation could pass down a\nriver without causing commerce and riches at its mouth. Very early in the\nReport they indicated that the question of the State appropriation of the\nland had forced itself upon their notice. \"If the State wishes to avoid\nthe","PRIATION.\"\n\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\n\n \"Humanity, whose cause we plead, Christian rights, whose principles we\n endeavour to inculcate, compel us to touch briefly upon a curious and\n mysterious creation which is peculiar to the Congo State--the _Domaine\n de la Couronne_.\"\n\n \"What are the revenues of this mysterious civil personality?\n Estimates, more or less conjectural in nature, elaborated by M.\n Cattier appear to establish","asked by the rubber agent if he would bring\n in rubber now. He replied that he would. Although a chief of\n considerable standing, he has been flogged, imprisoned, tied by the\n neck with men who were regarded as slaves, made to do the most menial\n work, and his beard, which was of many years' growth, and reached\n almost to the ground, was cut off by the rubber agent because he\n visited another town.\"\n\nLontulu was cross-examined by the Commission and his evidence was not\nshaken. Here are some of","where neither are to be found that the agent has his own unfettered way.\nWith all these considerations, is it not clear that all the terrible facts\nwhich we know are but the mere margin of that welter of violence and\ninjustice which the Jesuit, Father Vermeersch, has summed up in the two\nwords, \"Immeasurable Misery!\"\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE WORKING OF THE SYSTEM\n\n\nHaving claimed, as I have shown, the whole of the land, and therefore the\nwhole of its products, the State"],["the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\n\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 188","possible.\"\n\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\n\n \"Everywhere,\" he said, \"I hear the same news of the doings of the\n Congo Free State--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. It is\n said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... In Europe we\n understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\"\n\nOn",", what a vast cry\nwould have reached the heavens. In the Congo hell the most lurid glow is\nto be found in the Royal Domain. And the money dragged from these tortured\npeople is used in turn to corrupt newspapers and public men--that it may\nbe possible to continue the system. So the devil's wheel goes round and\nround! Here are some extracts from Mr. Murdoch's report:\n\n \"I remarked to the old chief of the largest town I came across that\n his people seemed to be numerous. 'Ah,' said he, '","\n\n \"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\n consent and just compensation.\"\n\nAgain:\n\n \"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\"\n\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\n\n \"Humanity, whose cause we plead","treatment of natives from Sierra Leone, Lagos, and other British\nSettlements, who had been engaged by the Belgians to come to Congoland and\nhelp in railway construction and other work. Coming from the settled order\nof such a colony as Sierra Leone or Lagos, these natives complained loudly\nwhen they found themselves working side by side with impressed Congolese,\nand under the discipline of the armed sentinels of the Force Publique.\nThey were discontented and the discontent was met by corporal punishment.\nThe matter grew to the dimensions of","ING VILLAGE\n WITHOUT SPECIAL PERMIT. A NATIVE DISPLACING HIMSELF WITHOUT BEING THE\n BEARER OF SUCH AN AUTHORIZATION, WOULD LEAVE HIMSELF OPEN TO ARREST,\n TO BE TAKEN BACK AND EVEN PUNISHED.\"\n\nWho could possibly deny, after reading this passage, that the Congo native\nhas been reduced from freedom into slavery? There follows a curious\nsentence:\n\n \"Let us hasten,\" says the Report, \"to say that in","an old-established one, affecting only the mouth\nof the river, which could not be disturbed without obvious international\ncomplications, and which bears no relation to the great Upper Congo\npopulations, whose inhuman treatment was the question at issue.\n\nThe Report then proceeds to point out very clearly, the all-important fact\nwhich arises from the expropriation of the native from the land. \"Apart\nfrom the rough plantations,\" it says, \"which barely suffice, to feed the\nnatives themselves and to supply the stations, all the fruits of the soil\n","I am\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\n stay away.\"\n\n \"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\"\n\nIt is terrible to","iable and just intercourse with people\nwho have been strangers to them.\" Stanley was a hard man, but he was no\nhypocrite. What he said he undoubtedly meant. It is worth remarking, in\nview of the accounts of the laziness or stupidity of the natives given by\nKing Leopold's apologists in order to justify their conduct toward them,\nthat Stanley had the very highest opinion of their industry and commercial\nability. The following extracts from his writings set this matter beyond\nall doubt:\n\n \"Bolobo is a great centre for the","ME CONGOLESE APOLOGIES\n\n\nIt only remains to examine some of the Congolese attempts to answer the\nunanswerable. It is but fair to hear the other side, and I will set down\nsuch points as they advance as clearly as I can:\n\n1.--_That the Congo State is independent and that it is no one else's\nbusiness what occurs within its borders._\n\nI have, I trust, clearly shown that by the Berlin Treaty of 1885 the State\nwas formed on certain conditions, and that these conditions as affecting\nboth","some care to the\n porters; the heartless disregard for life is abominable.... Native\n life is considered of no value by the Belgians. No wonder the State is\n hated.\"\n\nFinally, a little before his death, he heard of that practice of\nmutilation which was one of the most marked fruits of the policy of \"moral\nand material advantage of the native races\" promised at the Berlin\nConference:\n\n \"Mr. Harvey heard from Clarke, who is at Lake Mantumba, that the State\n soldiers have been in","that terrible things\nbegan to dawn upon him. Casement had travelled in 1887 in the Congo, and\nwas surprised to note the timidity of the natives. Soon he had his\nexplanation:\n\n \"At one of these village, S----, after confidence had been restored\n and the fugitives had been induced to come in from the surrounding\n forest, where they had hidden themselves, I saw women coming back,\n carrying their babies, their household utensils, and even the food\n they had hastily snatched up,","ran away, kicked her. They talk of philanthropy and\n civilization! Where it is, I do not know.\"\n\nAnd again:\n\n \"Most white officers out on the Congo are averse to the india-rubber\n policy of the State, but the laws command it. Therefore, at each post\n one finds the natives deserting their homes, and escaping to the\n French side of the river when possible.\"\n\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\n\n \"Everywhere,\" he said, \"I hear the same news of the","the Congo forces upon the other--the latter consisting largely of\ncannibal tribes--men of the Stone Age, armed with the weapons of the\nnineteenth century. The suppression of the slave trade is a good cause,\nbut the means by which it was effected, and the use of Barbarians who ate\nin the evening those whom they had slain during the day, are as bad as the\nevil itself. Yet there is no denying the energy and ability of the Congo\nleaders, especially of Baron Dhanis. By the year 1894","ceived by the general public from the Congo Free State concerned the\nfounding of new stations, and the idea prevailed that King Leopold's\nenterprise was indeed working out upon the humanitarian lines which had\nbeen originally planned. Then, for the first time, incidents occurred\nwhich gave some glimpse of the violence and anarchy which really\nprevailed.\n\nThe first of these, so far as Great Britain is concerned, lay in the\ntreatment of natives from Sierra Leone, Lagos, and other British\nSettlements, who had been engaged by the Belgians to","claim that they had saved a part of the natives from slavery. How\nthey proceeded to impose upon all of them a yoke, compared to which the\nold slavery was merciful, will be shown in these pages. From the time of\nthe fall of the Arab power the Congo Free State was only called upon to\nuse military force in the case of mutinies of its own black troops, and of\noccasional risings of its own tormented \"citizens.\" Master of its own\nhouse, it could settle down to exploit the country which it had won.\n\n","finally took his own\nlife--another martyr in the cause of the Congo.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nVOICES FROM THE DARKNESS\n\n\nI will now return to the witnesses of the shocking treatment of the\nnatives. Rev. Joseph Clark was an American missionary living at Ikoko in\nthe Crown Domain, which is King Leopold's own special private preserve.\nThese letters cover the space between 1893 and 1899.\n\nThis is Ikoko as he found it in 1893:\n\n ",". \"Rumours have it,\" he wrote to his relatives, \"that\nEuropeans who have been taken are poisoned, so if I disappear without\nfurther news you may guess what has become of me.\" Nothing more was heard\nfrom him save two agonized letters, begging officials to speed him on his\nway. He died, as he had foreseen, on the trip down the Congo, and was\nhurriedly buried in a wayside station when two hours more would have\nbrought the body to Leopoldville. If it is possible to add a darker shadow\nto","driven him to his death, and by the\nlast reports neither his relatives nor his creditors have received any\nportion of this large sum. Consider the whole story and say if it is\nexaggeration to state that Gustav Maria Rabinck was robbed and murdered by\nthe Congo Free State.\n\nHaving shown in these two examples the way in which the Congo Free State\nhas dared to treat the citizens of European States who have traded within\nher borders, I will now proceed to detail, in chronological order, some\naccount of the dark story of that State's relations","to themselves. By law the maximum of forced labour\nwas forty hours in a month. But, as I have said, there is no relation at\nall between law and practice in the Congo.\n\nOne witness appeared with a string knotted in forty-two places, and with a\npacket of fifty leaves. Each knot represented a murder and each leaf a\nrope in his native village.\n\nThe son of a murdered chief took the body of his father (all names, dates\nand place specified) to show it to the white agent, in the hope of\njustice. The agent called his"],["tridges and remarked,\n\"I can turn those into 25,000 pounds of rubber.\" Captain Lothaire believed\nin the same trade methods, for his fighting and his output increased\ntogether. It is worth while to slaughter one-fourth of the population if\nthe effect is to drive the others to frenzied and unceasing work.\n\nNo definite details might ever have reached Europe of those doings had not\nLothaire made the capital mistake of quarrelling with his subordinates.\nOne of these, named Lacroix, sent a communication to","had,\n many of them, been compelled to sell their children and their wives. I\n saw no live-stock of any kind in W---- save a very few fowls--possibly\n under a dozen--and it seemed, indeed, not unlikely that, as these\n people asserted, they had great difficulty in always getting their\n supplies ready. A father and mother stepped out and said that they had\n been forced to sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods\n to meet their share of the fine. A widow",", was in business in Liverpool, and was afterward elected to\nbe a member of the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce. There is, indeed, a\nconnection between Liverpool and the movement, because it was while\nengaged in the shipping trade there that Mr. Morel was brought into\nconnection with the persons and the facts which moved him to generous\nindignation, and started him upon the long struggle which he has so\nsplendidly and unselfishly maintained. As a matter of fact, all business\nmen in England have very good reason to take action against a system which\nhas kept their commerce out of","asked by the rubber agent if he would bring\n in rubber now. He replied that he would. Although a chief of\n considerable standing, he has been flogged, imprisoned, tied by the\n neck with men who were regarded as slaves, made to do the most menial\n work, and his beard, which was of many years' growth, and reached\n almost to the ground, was cut off by the rubber agent because he\n visited another town.\"\n\nLontulu was cross-examined by the Commission and his evidence was not\nshaken. Here are some of","is satisfied with\n him, that he is telling the truth, and therefore say that it is\n unnecessary. He tells how his beard of many years' growth, and which\n nearly reached his feet, was cut off by a rubber agent, merely because\n he visited a friend in another town. Asked if he had not killed\n A.B.I.R. sentries, he denied it, but owned to his people spearing\n three of the sentry's boys. He tells how the white man fought him, and\n when the fight was over handed him his corpses","traces on their faces; indeed, it is\n the same as in your own cities in Europe. Know you not the military\n man among you, the lawyer and the merchant, the banker, the artist, or\n the poet? It is the same in Africa, MORE ESPECIALLY ON THE CONGO,\n WHERE THE PEOPLE ARE SO DEVOTED TO TRADE.\"\n\n \"During the few days of our mutual intercourse they gave us a high\n idea of their qualities--industry, after their own style, not being\n the least","days of our mutual intercourse they gave us a high\n idea of their qualities--industry, after their own style, not being\n the least conspicuous.\"\n\n \"As in the old time, Umangi, from the right bank, and Mpa, from the\n left bank, despatched their representatives with ivory tusks, large\n and small, goats and sheep, and vegetable food, clamorously demanding\n that we should buy from them. Such urgent entreaties, accompanied with\n blandishments to purchase their stock, were","ability. The following extracts from his writings set this matter beyond\nall doubt:\n\n \"Bolobo is a great centre for the ivory and camwood powder trade,\n principally because its people are so enterprising.\"\n\nOf Irebu--\"a Venice of the Congo\"--he says:\n\n \"These people were really acquainted with many lands and tribes on the\n Upper Congo. From Stanley Pool to Upoto, a distance of 6,000 miles,\n they knew every landing-place on the river banks. All the","sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods\n to meet their share of the fine. A widow came and declared that she\n had been forced, in order to meet her share of the fine, to sell her\n daughter G, a little girl whom I judged from her description to be\n about ten years of age. She had been sold to a man in Y----, who was\n named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.\"\n\nThe natives were broken in spirit by","\n \"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\n into this state now.\"\n\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty","amorously demanding\n that we should buy from them. Such urgent entreaties, accompanied with\n blandishments to purchase their stock, were difficult to resist.\"\n\n \"I speak of eager native traders following us for miles for the\n smallest piece of cloth. I mention that after travelling many miles to\n obtain cloth for ivory and redwood powder, the despairing natives\n asked: 'Well, what is it you do want? Tell us, and we will get it for\n you.'\"\n\nSpeaking of English scepticism as to King Leopold's intentions","eight years old, with a few girls among the batch, all stolen from the\n natives. The Commissary of the district is a violent-tempered fellow.\n While arranging to take on the hundred small slaves a woman who had\n charge of the youngsters was rather slow in understanding his order,\n delivered in very poor Kabanji. He sprang at her, slapped her in the\n face, and as she ran away, kicked her. They talk of philanthropy and\n civilization! Where it is, I do not know.\"\n\nAnd again:\n","children--are placed\nin rows before the Commissary, who counts them to see the soldiers have\nnot wasted the cartridges. The Commissary is paid a commission of about a\npenny per pound upon all the rubber he gets; it is, therefore, to his\ninterest to get as much as he can.\"\n\nHere is corroboration and amplification of all that Mr. Glaves had put\nforward. The system had not been long established, and was more efficient\nten or twelve years later, but already it was bearing some notable first\nfruits of civilization. King Leop","efficient agent of the Anversoise Society, that same company whose\nred-edged securities rose to such a height when Manager Lothaire taught\nthe natives what a minister in the Belgian House described as the\nChristian law of work. He did his best for the company, and he did his\nbest for himself, for he had a three per cent. commission upon the\nrubber. Why he should be chosen among all his fellow-murderers is hard to\nexplain, but it was so, and he found himself at Boma with a sentence of\ntwenty years. On","Stanley Pool to Upoto, a distance of 6,000 miles,\n they knew every landing-place on the river banks. All the ups and\n downs of savage life, all the profits and losses derived from barter,\n all the diplomatic arts used by tactful savages, were as well known to\n them as the Roman alphabet to us.... No wonder that all this\n commercial knowledge had left its traces on their faces; indeed, it is\n the same as in your own cities in Europe. Know you not the military\n man among you,","down the road, and they told the sentinel\n to put the hands on the road that they might count them. We counted\n eighteen right hands smoked and from the size of the hands we could\n judge that they belonged to men, women and children. We could not\n understand why these hands had been collected, as the Commissary had\n given orders that no more natives were to be killed for their hands.\n On my last journey I discovered the secret. One Monday night, a\n sentinel who had just returned from the Commissary, said to me:","\n to.\"\n\nAs he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent\npeace, his comments become more bitter. The nascent rubber trade began to\nintrude its methods upon his notice:\n\n \"Formerly the natives were well treated, but now expeditions have been\n sent in every direction, forcing natives to make rubber and to bring\n it to the stations. Up the Ikelemba, we are taking down one hundred\n slaves, mere children, all taken in unholy wars against the\n natives.... It was","fide_, and free from personal\nmotive. This is by no means certain, for as Baron von Marschall pointed\nout to the acting British Ambassador at Berlin, Stokes was known to be a\nsuccessful trader in ivory, exporting it by the east route, and so\ndepriving the officers of the Congo Government of a ten per cent.\ncommission, which would be received by them if it were exported by the\nwest route. \"This was the reason,\" the report continued, quoting the\nGerman Statesman's words, \"that he had been done","work was in the interest of God. But here the real doers have sat\nremote with cold blood in their veins, knowing well from day to day what\nthey were doing, and with the sole object of adding more to wealth which\nwas already enormous. Consider this circumstance and consider also the\nprofessions of philanthropy with which the huge massacre was inaugurated,\nthe cloud of lies with which it has been screened, the persecution and\ncalumny of the few honest men who uncovered it, the turning of religion\nagainst religion and of nation against nation in the attempt to","was there to preach!\n\nMr. Sjoblom seems to have been unable to believe at first that such deeds\nwere done with the knowledge and approval of the whites. He ventured to\nappeal to the Commissary. \"He turned in anger on me,\" he adds, \"and in the\npresence of the soldiers said that he would expel me from the town if I\nmeddled with matters of that kind any more.\"\n\nIt would, indeed, have been rather absurd for the Commissary to interfere\nwhen the severed hand had actually been cut off"],["\n \"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\n into this state now.\"\n\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty","not more than six or seven years ago, there\n were at least 3,000! It made one's heart heavy to listen to the tales\n of bloodshed and cruelty. And it all seemed so foolish. To kill the\n people off in the wholesale way in which it has been done in this Lake\n district, because they would not bring in a sufficient quantity of\n rubber to satisfy the white man--and now here is an empty country and\n a very much diminished output of rubber as the inevitable\n consequence....\"\n\nFinally Mr. Sc","without the authority of the\n Governor-General.\"\n\nAnd, finally, his reasons for writing his book:\n\n \"The contemplation of an immeasurable misery has caused us to publish\n this book. The gravity of the evil, its roots causes, had long escaped\n us. When we knew them we could not retain within ourselves the\n compassion with which we were imbued, and we resolved to tell the\n citizens of a generous country, appealing to their religion, to their\n patriotism, to their hearts.\"\n\nSurely after such evidence from such","in the country, and the present occupant of the post was endeavouring to\ncarry out the duties assigned to him (those duties consisting, as usual,\nof orders to get all the rubber possible out of the people) with as much\nhumanity as the nature of the task permitted. In this he, no doubt, did\nwhat was possible as one whom the system had not yet degraded to its\nlevel--one of the rare few: and one cannot wonder that they should be\nrare, seeing the nature of the bonds, and the helplessness in which an\nofficial is placed","complained officially to Commissaire Fievez:\n\n \"If you do not come soon and stop the present trouble the towns will\n be empty.... I entreat you to help us to have peace on the Lake.... It\n seems so hard to see the dead bodies in the creek and on the beach,\n and to know why they are killed.... People are living in the bush like\n wild beasts without shelter or proper food, and afraid to make fires.\n Many died in this way. One woman ran away with three children--they\n all died in the forest, and the","of lives, and the scenes I have witnessed\n while unable to help the oppressed have been almost enough to make me\n wish I were dead. The soldiers, are themselves savages, some even\n cannibals, trained to use rifles and in many cases they are sent away\n without supervision, and they do as they please. When they come to any\n town no man's property or wife is safe, and when they are at war they\n are like devils.\n\n \"_Imagine them returning from fighting some 'rebels'; see, on the bow\n","and yet, as I have already said, no men\ncould serve on such terms in a tropical country without degradation. He\nwas goaded and driven to crime by the constant clamour from those above\nhim. Was it, then, with the District Commissary? He had reached a\nresponsible and well-paid post, which he would lose if his particular\ndistrict fell behind in the race of production. Was it, then, with the\nGovernor-General at Boma? He was a man of a hardened conscience, but for\nhim also there was mitigation. He",": and one cannot wonder that they should be\nrare, seeing the nature of the bonds, and the helplessness in which an\nofficial is placed who does not carry out the full desires of his\nsuperiors. But he had only succeeded in getting himself into trouble with\nthe district commander in consequence. He showed Mr. Scrivener a letter\nfrom the latter upbraiding him for not using more vigorous means, telling\nhim to talk less and shoot more, and reprimanding him for not killing more\nthan one man in a district under his care where there was a little\ntrouble.","I am\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\n stay away.\"\n\n \"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\"\n\nIt is terrible to","upon we fell upon them all, and\n killed them without mercy. An hour later we were joined by Van Eycken,\n and told him what had been done. He answered: 'It is well, but you\n have not done enough!' Thereupon he ordered us to cut off the heads of\n the men and hang them on the village palisades, also their sexual\n members, and to hang the women and children on the palisades in the\n form of a cross.\"\n\nIn the face of these fresh revelations there was an outburst of feeling in","but\n should receive a little humanity. They are naked, except for a\n miserable patch of cloth of several parts, held in place by a string\n round the waist. They are not loosened from the rope for any purpose.\n They live in the guard-house under the charge of black native\n sentries, who delight in slapping and ill-using them, for pity is not\n in the heart of the native. Some of the women have babies, but they go\n to work just the same. They form, indeed, a miserable spectacle, and\n one w","President, who had listened, to his honour be it\nspoken, with tears running down his cheeks to some of the evidence, cried\nout in amazement and disgust. \"There is one document I would put in,\" said\nthe agent. \"It is to show that 142 of my sentinels were slain by the\nvillagers in the course of seven months.\" \"Surely that makes the matter\nworse!\" cried the sagacious judge. \"If these well-armed men were slain by\nthe defenceless villagers, how terrible must the wrongs have been which\n","saw an\noutrage. No doubt he had formed the opinion that his brethren had been\nexaggerating. Then one day he heard an outburst of firing, and turned his\nlittle steamer to the spot. This is what he saw: \"They were horrified to\nfind the native soldiers of the Government under the eyes of their white\nofficers engaged in mutilating the dead bodies of the natives who had just\nbeen killed. Three native bodies were lying near the river's edge and\nhuman limbs were lying within a few yards from the steamer. A","that terrible things\nbegan to dawn upon him. Casement had travelled in 1887 in the Congo, and\nwas surprised to note the timidity of the natives. Soon he had his\nexplanation:\n\n \"At one of these village, S----, after confidence had been restored\n and the fugitives had been induced to come in from the surrounding\n forest, where they had hidden themselves, I saw women coming back,\n carrying their babies, their household utensils, and even the food\n they had hastily snatched up,","administrative authorities of the\n region.\"\n\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\n\n \"In the morning, when about to start for K----, many people from the\n surrounding country came in to see me. They brought with them three\n individuals who had been shockingly wounded by gun fire, two men and a\n very small boy, not more than six years of age, and a fourth--a boy\n child of six or seven--whose right hand was cut off at the wrist. One\n of the men, who had been shot through the arm,",", and I don't want you to\n do it before my eyes.' He said: 'All right, I will keep him in bonds,\n then, until to-morrow morning when you have gone. Then I will kill\n him.' But a few minutes afterward the sentinel came in a rage to the\n man and shot him right before my eyes. Then he charged his rifle again\n and pointed it at the others, who all rushed away like chaff before\n the wind. He told a little boy, eight or nine years of age, to go and\n cut off","was there to preach!\n\nMr. Sjoblom seems to have been unable to believe at first that such deeds\nwere done with the knowledge and approval of the whites. He ventured to\nappeal to the Commissary. \"He turned in anger on me,\" he adds, \"and in the\npresence of the soldiers said that he would expel me from the town if I\nmeddled with matters of that kind any more.\"\n\nIt would, indeed, have been rather absurd for the Commissary to interfere\nwhen the severed hand had actually been cut off","he been a citizen\nof any State. The cause I plead is too broad, and also too lofty, to be\nsupported by any narrower appeals than those which may be addressed to all\nhumanity. I will proceed to describe a case which occurred a few years\nlater to show that men of other nationalities suffered as well as the\nEnglish. Stokes, the Englishman, was killed, and his death, it was said by\nsome Congolese apologists, was due to his not having, after his summary\ntrial, announced that he would lodge an immediate appeal to the","natives of a\ncertain village which had been slow in bringing its rubber. He had carried\nout the order. Later, his chief had put sixty women in irons, and allowed\nnearly all of them to die of hunger because the village--Mummumbula--had\nnot brought enough rubber. \"I am going to be tried,\" he wrote, \"for having\nmurdered one hundred and fifty men, for having crucified women and\nchildren, and for having mutilated many men and hung the remains on the\nvillage fence.\" At the same moment as this confession","when we failed and\n our rubber was short, the soldiers came to our towns and killed us.\n Many were shot, some had their ears cut off: others were tied up with\n ropes around their necks and bodies and taken away. The white men\n sometimes at the posts did not know of the bad things the soldiers did\n to us, but it was the white men who sent the soldiers to punish us for\n not bringing in enough rubber.'\n\n \"Here P P took up the tale from N N:\n\n \"'We said to the white men, \"We"],["agers should do their task. These are the men who are called\n\"capitas,\" or head-men in the accounts, and who are the actual, though not\nthe moral, perpetrators of so many horrible deeds. Imagine the nightmare\nwhich lay upon each village while this barbarian squatted in the midst of\nit. Day or night they could never get away from him. He called for palm\nwine. He called for women. He beat them, mutilated them, and shot them\ndown at his pleasure. He enforced public incest in order to amuse himself\nby the","named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.\"\n\nThe natives were broken in spirit by the treatment:\n\n \"One of them--a strong, indeed, a splendid-looking man--broke down and\n wept, saying that their lives were useless to them, and that they knew\n of no means of escape from the troubles which were gathering around\n them. I could only assure these people that their obvious course to\n obtain relief was by appeal to their own constituted authorities, and\n that if their circumstances","ly before all, pointed to his twenty\n witnesses, placed on the table his one hundred and ten twigs, each\n twig representing a life for rubber. 'These are chiefs' twigs, these\n are men's, these shorter are women's, these smaller still are\n children's.' He gives the names of scores, but begs for permission to\n call his son as a reminder. The Commission, though, is satisfied with\n him, that he is telling the truth, and therefore say that it is\n unnecessary. He tells how his beard of many years","I proceeded to look for\n this man, who at first could not be found, the natives to a\n considerable number gathering behind me as I walked through the town.\n After some delay the sentry appeared, carrying a cap-gun. The boy,\n whom I placed before him, then accused him to his face of having\n mutilated him. The men of the town, who were questioned in\n succession, corroborated the boy's statement. The sentry, who gave his\n name as K K, could make no answer to the charge. He","in the country, and the present occupant of the post was endeavouring to\ncarry out the duties assigned to him (those duties consisting, as usual,\nof orders to get all the rubber possible out of the people) with as much\nhumanity as the nature of the task permitted. In this he, no doubt, did\nwhat was possible as one whom the system had not yet degraded to its\nlevel--one of the rare few: and one cannot wonder that they should be\nrare, seeing the nature of the bonds, and the helplessness in which an\nofficial is placed","said:\n\n \"I also told them what we had seen on the Ikelemba, of the signs of\n desolation in all the districts, of the heartrending stories the\n people told us, of the butcheries wrought by the various white men of\n the State and companies who had, from time to time, been stationed\n there among whom a few names were notorious. I pointed out to them the\n fact that the basin of the Ikelemba was supposed to be free-trade\n territory also, but that everywhere the people","tridges and remarked,\n\"I can turn those into 25,000 pounds of rubber.\" Captain Lothaire believed\nin the same trade methods, for his fighting and his output increased\ntogether. It is worth while to slaughter one-fourth of the population if\nthe effect is to drive the others to frenzied and unceasing work.\n\nNo definite details might ever have reached Europe of those doings had not\nLothaire made the capital mistake of quarrelling with his subordinates.\nOne of these, named Lacroix, sent a communication to","sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods\n to meet their share of the fine. A widow came and declared that she\n had been forced, in order to meet her share of the fine, to sell her\n daughter G, a little girl whom I judged from her description to be\n about ten years of age. She had been sold to a man in Y----, who was\n named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.\"\n\nThe natives were broken in spirit by","dusty and malodorous; covered with insects as their huge procession\n passes over mountains and through valleys; dying on the tramp, or,\n when the tramp is over, going to their villages to die of exhaustion.\"\n\nIt will be remembered that Captain Lothaire, having been acquitted of the\nmurder of Mr. Stokes, was sent out by King Leopold to act as\nmanaging-director of the Anversoise Trust. In 1898, he arrived in the\nMongalla District, and from then onward there",", or barrel; for the most part broken\n down, sinking under the burdens made heavier by their weariness and\n insufficiency of food, consisting of a handful of rice and tainted\n dried fish; pitiful walking caryatids; beasts of burden with the lank\n limbs of monkeys, pinched-up features, eyes fixed and round with the\n strain of keeping their balance and the dulness of exhaustion. Thus\n they come and go by thousands, organized in a system of human\n transport, requisitioned by the","it had been brought\nunder his notice.\n\nMr. Scrivener, a gentleman who had been twenty-three years on the Congo,\nwas the next witness. His evidence was largely the same as the \"Diary\"\nfrom which I have already quoted, concerning the condition of the Crown\nDomain. Many witnesses were examined. \"How do you know the names of the\nmen murdered?\" a lad was asked. \"One of them was my father,\" was the\ndramatic reply. \"Men of stone,\" wrote Mr. Scrivener, \"would be moved by\nthe stories that are","in the grass, within a few yards of\n the house I was occupying, were numbers of human bones, in some cases\n complete skeletons. I counted thirty-six skulls, and saw many sets of\n bones from which the skulls were missing. I called one of the men, and\n asked the meaning of it. 'When the rubber palaver began,' said he,\n 'the soldiers shot so many we grew tired of burying, and very often we\n were not allowed to bury, and so just dragged the bodies out into the\n grass and","\n \"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\n into this state now.\"\n\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty","visit to the West End establishment showed that the salesmen behind\n the counter were well-dressed and well-nourished, ignoring altogether\n the festering misery of the sweaters' dens in which every article sold\n over that counter was made up.\"\n\nAfter showing that the Kasai Company, in their haste for wealth (and,\nperhaps, in their foresight, as knowing that their occupancy may be\nbrought to an end), are cutting down the rubber vines instead of tapping\nthem (illegal, of course, but what does that matter","had,\n many of them, been compelled to sell their children and their wives. I\n saw no live-stock of any kind in W---- save a very few fowls--possibly\n under a dozen--and it seemed, indeed, not unlikely that, as these\n people asserted, they had great difficulty in always getting their\n supplies ready. A father and mother stepped out and said that they had\n been forced to sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods\n to meet their share of the fine. A widow","of men, women and\nchildren killed by the sentries of a M. Pilaet.\n\n \"Last year,\" he says, \"or the year before, the young woman, Imenega,\n was tied to a forked tree and chopped in half with a hatchet,\n beginning at the left shoulder, chopping down through the chest and\n abdomen and out at the side.\" Again, with every detail of name and\n place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been\n enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and","Lomboto, Loma, Bayolo.'\n\n \"Then followed names of women and children and ordinary men (not\n chiefs).\n\n \"Lontulu: 'May I call my son lest I make a mistake?'\n\n \"President: 'It is unnecessary; go on.'\n\n \"Lontulu: 'Bomposa, Beanda, Ekila.'\n\n \"President: 'Are you sure that each of your twigs (110) represents one\n person killed?'\n\n \"Lontulu: 'Yes.'\n","They gave clearly the details of how father,\n mother, brother, sister, son or daughter were killed in cold blood for\n rubber. These sixteen represented over twenty murders in Esanga alone.\n Then followed the big chief of all Bolima, who succeeded Isekifasu\n (murdered by the A.B.I.R.). What a sight for those who prate about\n lying missionaries! He stood boldly before all, pointed to his twenty\n witnesses, placed on the table his one hundred and ten twigs, each\n twig representing a life","its are specially\ninvited.\n\n\"The chief of the post points out the victims; they leave the ranks and\ncome forward, for at the least attempt at flight they would be brutally\nseized by the soldiers, struck in the face by the representative of the\nFree State and the punishment would be doubled. Trembling and terrified,\nthey stretch themselves face down before the captain and his colleagues;\ntwo of their companions, sometimes four, seize them by their hands and\nfeet and take off their waistcloth. Then, armed with a lash of\nhippopotam","by\n the sentinels. According to the witnesses these auxiliaries,\n especially those stationed in the villages, abuse the authority\n conferred upon them, convert themselves into DESPOTS, CLAIMING THE\n WOMEN AND THE FOOD, NOT ONLY FOR THEMSELVES BUT FOR THE BODY OF\n PARASITES AND CREATURES WITHOUT ANY CALLING WHICH A LOVE OF RAPINE\n CAUSES TO BECOME ASSOCIATED WITH THEM, AND WITH WHOM THEY SUR"],["named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.\"\n\nThe natives were broken in spirit by the treatment:\n\n \"One of them--a strong, indeed, a splendid-looking man--broke down and\n wept, saying that their lives were useless to them, and that they knew\n of no means of escape from the troubles which were gathering around\n them. I could only assure these people that their obvious course to\n obtain relief was by appeal to their own constituted authorities, and\n that if their circumstances","\"One asks oneself in vain what benefits these people have gained from\n the boasted civilization of the Free State. One looks in vain for any\n attempt to benefit them or to recompense them in any way for the\n enormous wealth which they are helping to pour into the Treasury of\n the State. Their native industries are being destroyed, their freedom\n has been taken from them, and their numbers are decreasing.\n\n \"The only efforts made to civilize them have been made by the\n missionaries, who are hampered at every turn.\"\n\nConsul The","their means of existence.\" Such are the words of 1886. Before the end of\n1887, an Act had been published, though not immediately put into force,\nwhich had the exactly opposite effect. By this Act all lands which were\nnot actually occupied by natives were proclaimed to be the property of the\nState. Consider for a moment what this meant! No land in such a country is\nactually occupied by natives save the actual site of their villages, and\nthe scanty fields of grain or manioc which surround them. Everywhere\nbeyond these tiny patches","what had been but recently the condition of the\n place.... Soon we began talking, and, without any encouragement on my\n part, they began the tales I had become so accustomed to. They were\n living in peace and quietness when the white men came in from the Lake\n with all sorts of requests to do this and to do that, and they thought\n it meant slavery. So they attempted to keep the white men out of their\n country, but without avail. The rifles were too much for them. So they\n submitted, and made up their minds to do"," order to force the natives to furnish them with produce and to work\n for the Company, as also to pursue as rebels and outlaws those who\n sought to escape from the requisitions imposed upon them.... That,\n above all, the fact that the arrest of women and their detention, to\n compel the villages to furnish both produce and workmen, was tolerated\n and admitted even by certain of the administrative authorities of the\n region.\"\n\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\n\n \"In the morning, when about","assigned to\nthis malady. The natives certainly attribute their alarming death-rate to\nthis as one of the inducing causes, although they attribute, and I think\nprincipally, their rapid decrease in numbers to other causes as well.\"\n\nThe Government work shop \"was brightness, care, order, and activity, and\nit was impossible not to admire and commend the industry which had created\nand maintained in constant working order this useful establishment.\"\n\nThese are not the words of a critic who has started with a prejudiced mind\nor the desire to make out a case.\n\n","the result of my journey through this portion of the country, I am\n forced to the conclusion that the condition of the people in the\n A.B.I.R. territory _is deplorable_, and although those living in the\n vicinity of the mission stations are, comparatively speaking, safe\n from ill-treatment by the rubber agents and their armed sentries,\n those in other parts are subjected to the gravest abuses.\n\n \"There is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a\n totally inadequate wage. In","degrees\nthat he sank to the depths which will be shown. This view is borne out by\nsome of the earlier edicts of the State. In 1886, a long pronouncement\nupon native lands ended by the words: \"All acts or agreements are\nforbidden which tend to the expulsion of natives from the territory they\noccupy, or to deprive them, directly or indirectly, of their liberty or\ntheir means of existence.\" Such are the words of 1886. Before the end of\n1887, an Act had been published","and\n active.\"\n\nIn 1903 there were 600 people surviving.\n\nIn 1894 Ikoko in the Crown Domain began to feel the effects of \"moral and\nmaterial regeneration.\" On May 30th of that year Mr. Clark writes:\n\n \"Owing to trouble with the State the Irebo people fled and left their\n homes. Yesterday the State soldiers shot a sick man who had not\n attempted to run away, and others have been killed by the State\n (native) soldiers, who, in the","ir conditions of living are deplorable_, and the filth and\n squalor of their villages is only too apparent. _The people live in a\n state of uncertainty as to the advent of police officers and soldiers,\n who invariably chase them from their abodes and destroy their huts,\n and for this reason it is impossible for them to better their\n condition of living by the construction of suitable dwellings._\n\n \"_No change of system to be looked for._\n\n \"No change in the existing system can be looked for until a more\n reasonable method of","of the women have babies, but they go\n to work just the same. They form, indeed, a miserable spectacle, and\n one wonders that old women, although prisoners of war, should not\n receive a little more consideration; at least, their nakedness might\n be hidden. The men prisoners are treated in a far better way.\"\n\nDescribing the natives he says:\n\n \"The natives are not lazy, good-for-nothing fellows. Their fine powers\n are obtained by hard work, sobriety and frugal living.\"\n\nHe","gave\nand that their condition has been more miserable than ever. The final\npractical result of the Commission was that upon the natives, and not upon\ntheir murderers, came the punishment.\n\nM. Malfeyt, a Royal High Commissioner, had been sent out on pretence of\nreform. How hollow was this pretence may be seen from the fact that at the\nsame time M. Wahis had been despatched as Governor-General in place of\nthat Constermann who had committed suicide after his interview with the\njudges of the Commission. Wah","on his way, and that I was sure he would\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\"\n\nIt is terrible to think that such a promise, through no fault of Mr.\nHarris, has not been fulfilled. Are the dreams of the Commissioners never\nhaunted by the thought of those who put such trust in them, but whose only\nreward has been that they have been punished for the evidence they gave\nand that their condition has been more miserable than ever. The final\npractical result of the Commission was that upon the natives, and not","to verify the exactitude of the\n allegations made before it, the more so that the facts were often\n several years old. However, TRUTH OF THE CHARGES IS BORNE OUT BY A\n MASS OF EVIDENCE AND OFFICIAL REPORTS.\"\n\nIt adds:\n\n \"OF HOW MANY ABUSES HAVE THESE NATIVE SENTINELS BEEN GUILTY IT WOULD\n BE IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY, EVEN APPROXIMATELY. SEVERAL CHIE","played a noble\npart throughout in endeavouring within their very limited powers to shield\nthe natives from their tormentors. In both cases, and also in that of Mrs.\nHarris, this had been done at the repeated risk of their lives. Their\nwhite neighbours of the rubber factories made their lives miserable also\nby preventing their receipt of food from the natives, and harassing them\nin various ways. On one occasion a chief and his son were both murdered by\nthe order of the white agent because they had supplied the Harris\nhousehold with the fore-quarter of",", paid 200 per cent.\n\nFour natives had been tortured until they cried out for some one to bring\na gun and shoot them.\n\nThe chiefs died because their hearts were broken.\n\nMr. Gamman knew no village where it took them less than ten days out of\nfifteen to satisfy the demands of the A.B.I.R. As a rule, the people had\nfour days in a month to themselves. By law the maximum of forced labour\nwas forty hours in a month. But, as I have said, there is no relation at\nall","the\nMissions to the Red Indians of the eighteenth century, can forget the\npicture of unselfish devotion which they exhibit. Father Vermeersch, a\nworthy successor of such predecessors, has published a book, \"La Question\nCongolaise,\" in which he finds nothing incompatible between his position\nas a Catholic and his exposure of the abuses of the Congo.\n\nIn all points the position of Father Vermeersch and of the English\nReformers appears to be identical.\n\nOn the rightful possession of the land by the natives he writes in","est abuses.\n\n \"There is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a\n totally inadequate wage. In visiting the various rubber-working towns,\n one would expect to see some signs of European commodities that had\n been given in exchange for the millions of pounds' worth of rubber\n that has been extracted from them, but the native residents possess\n actually nothing at all.\n\n \"_Their conditions of living are deplorable_, and the filth and\n squalor of their villages is only too apparent. _The people live in",",\n the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured\n me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to\n a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.\"\n\nAgain I insert a passage to show that Casement was by no means an\nill-natured critic:\n\n \"It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R.\n Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult\n and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as","and after this was set aside the natives had nothing\n but leaves to eat.\"\n\nAlso, that fines, which the Commission at once declared to be illegal,\nwere constantly levied on the people, and that these fines had continued\nafter the matter had been reported to the Governor-General. In spite of\nthis declaration of illegality, no steps were taken in the matter, and M.\nde Bauw, the chief offender, was by last accounts the supreme executive\nofficial of the district. At every turn one finds that there is no\nrelation at all between law"],["was won over to advancing ten\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\nsprang up which has eventually led to annexation. At the time of this loan\nKing Leopold let it be known that he had left the Congo Free State in his\nwill to Belgium. In this document appear the words, \"A young and spacious\nState, directed from Brussels, has pacifically appeared in the sunlight,\nthanks to the benevolent support of the Powers that have welcomed its\nappearance. Some Belgians administer it, while others","Grey declared that we\n\"could not wait forever,\" and yet we see that he is waiting still. In 1908\nthe long looked-for annexation came at last, and the Congo State exchanged\nthe blue flag with the golden star for the tricolour of Belgium. Immediate\nand radical reforms were promised, but the matter ended as all previous\npromises have done. In 1909 M. Renkin, the Belgian Colonial Minister, went\nout to inspect the Congo State, and had the frankness before going to say\nthat nothing would be","was destined to crush out all general private trade in\na country as large as the whole of Europe with Russia omitted. That was\nthe admitted outcome of their enterprise. Now listen to M. Beernaert, the\nBelgian Premier, speaking in the year 1885:\n\n \"The State, of which our King will be the Sovereign, will be a sort of\n international Colony. There will be no monopolies, no privileges....\n Quite the contrary: absolute freedom of commerce, freedom of property,\n freedom of navigation.\"\n\n",", therefore, since whatever happens must be\nfor the better.\n\nCan a solution be found through Belgium?\n\nNo, it is impossible, and that should be recognized from the outset. The\nBelgians have been given their chance. They have had nearly twenty-five\nyears of undisturbed possession, and they have made it a hell upon earth.\nThey cannot disassociate themselves from this work or pretend that it was\ndone by a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital,","the admissions of the Belgian\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by","that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\nAugust 10th, 1908. But responsibility cannot be so easily shaken off. The\nCongo State was founded by the Belgian King, and exploited by Belgian\ncapital, Belgian soldiers and Belgian concessionnaires. It was defended\nand upheld by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles",", which will take another year\nto produce, and will be utterly futile when reduced to practice. But the\nworld has seen this game too often. Surely it will not be made a fool of\nagain. There is some limit to European patience.\n\nMeanwhile, in this very month of August, 1909, a full year after the\nannexation by Belgium (an annexation, be it mentioned, which will not be\nofficially recognized by Great Britain until she is satisfied in the\nmatter of reforms), Prince Albert, the heir to the throne,",".\n\nAnd what shall that action be? War with Belgium? On them must rest the\nresponsibility for that. Our measures must be directed against the Congo\nState, which has not yet been recognized by us as being a possession of\nBelgium. If Belgium take up the quarrel then so be it. There are many ways\nin which we can bring the Congo State to her knees. A blockade of the\nCongo is one, but it has the objection of the international complications\nwhich might ensue. An easier way would be to proclaim this guilty land as\nan out","did not ask and desire their co-operation.\n\nFrom this date remonstrances were frequent from the British Government,\nthough they inadequately represented the anger and impatience of those\nBritish subjects who were aware of the true state of affairs. The British\nGovernment refrained from going to extremes because it was understood that\nthere would shortly be a Belgian annexation, and it was hoped that this\nwould mark the beginning of better things without the necessity for our\nintervention. Delay followed delay, and nothing was done. A Liberal\nGovernment was as","If immediately upon taking over the State they had\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\nwith power to punish for all past offences, and to examine all the\nscandals of recent years, then they would have done something to clear the\npast. If on the top of that they had freed the land, given up the system\nof forced labour entirely, and cancelled the charters of all the\nconcessionnaire companies, for the obvious reason that they have\nnotoriously abused their powers, then Belgium could go forward in its\ncolonizing enterprise on the","a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital, and was endorsed and\ndefended by Belgian governments. It is out of the question that Belgium\nshould remain on the Congo.\n\nNor, in face of reform, would Belgium wish to be there. She could not\ncarry the burden. When the country is restored to its inhabitants together\nwith their freedom, it will be in the same position as those German and\nEnglish colonies which entail heavy annual expenditure from the mother\n","oulded.\n\nIn the meantime King Leopold, feeling the weakness of his personal\nposition in face of the great enterprise which lay before him in Africa,\nendeavoured more and more to draw Belgium, as a State, into the matter.\nAlready the Congo State was largely the outcome of Belgian work and of\nBelgian money, but, theoretically, there was no connection between the two\ncountries. Now the Belgian Parliament was won over to advancing ten\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\nsprang up which has eventually","this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all the honours\nof war. M. de Favereau, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, alternately\nexplained that there was no connection at all between Belgium and the\nCongo State, and that it was a breach of Belgian patriotism to attack the\nlatter. The policy of the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which","claimed to belong, not to the\ninhabitants, but to the State--that is, to King Leopold.\n\nWith this sheaf of treaties in his portfolio the King of the Belgians now\napproached the Powers with high sentiments of humanitarianism, and with a\ndefinite request that the State which he was forming should receive some\nrecognized status among the nations. Was he at that time consciously\nhypocritical? Did he already foresee how widely his future actions would\ndiffer from his present professions? It is a problem which will interest\n","held by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles, it is an insult to\ncommon sense to suppose that the responsibility for the Congo has not\nalways rested with Belgium. The Belgian machinery was always ready to help\nand defend the State, but never to hold it in control and restrain it from\ncrime.\n\nOne chance Belgium had. If immediately upon taking over the State they had\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\nwith power to punish for all","\nthem, or it; and the ship can be confiscated without prejudice to any\nsubsequent proceedings.\"\n\nThe sight of these insignificant lieutenants and captains, who are often\nnon-commissioned officers of the Belgian army, issuing proclamations which\nwere in distinct contradiction to the expressed will of all the great\nPowers of the world, might at the time have seemed ludicrous; but the\nhistory of the next seventeen years was to prove that a small malignant\nforce, driven on by greed, may prove to","raiders. Then, along all the lines of the rivers, posts\nwere being formed and stations established--some by the State and some by\nthe various concessionnaire companies for the development of their\ncommerce.\n\nIn the meantime, the State was tightening its grip upon the land with its\nproducts, and was working up the system which was destined to produce such\ngrim results in the near future. The independent traders were discouraged\nand stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian","il y a intérêt à rendre publics seront\ninsérés au _Bulletin Officiel_.\" Already it is clear that something was in\nthe wind which might shock the rather leathery conscience of a European\nConcert. Meanwhile, the organization of the State went forward. A\nGovernor-General was elected, who should live at Boma, which was made the\ncapital. Under him were fifteen District Commissaries, who should govern\nso many districts into which the whole country was divided. The only\nport","o State of\nwhich these particular companies are merely an outcome. Until it is swept\nfrom the map there is no hope for the country. You cannot avoid the rank\nproducts while the putridity remains.\n\nThe next document bearing upon the question is from the Rev. H. M.\nWhiteside, from the notorious A.B.I.R. district. I give it in full, that\nthe reader may judge for himself how far the direct Belgian rule has\naltered the situation.\n\n \"I should like to bring to your notice a few facts regarding the\n condition",", Holland,\nhad the sagacity to appreciate the true situation, and the independence to\nshow its dissatisfaction. The outcome of the sittings was various\nphilanthropic resolutions intended to strengthen the new State in dealing\nwith that slave trade it was destined to re-introduce in its most odious\nform. We are too near to these events, and they are too painfully\nintimate, to permit us to see humour in them; but the historian of the\nfuture, when he reads that the object of the European Concert was \"to\nprotect effectually the"],["the admissions of the Belgian\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by","did not ask and desire their co-operation.\n\nFrom this date remonstrances were frequent from the British Government,\nthough they inadequately represented the anger and impatience of those\nBritish subjects who were aware of the true state of affairs. The British\nGovernment refrained from going to extremes because it was understood that\nthere would shortly be a Belgian annexation, and it was hoped that this\nwould mark the beginning of better things without the necessity for our\nintervention. Delay followed delay, and nothing was done. A Liberal\nGovernment was as","Times_, November 18, 1895), agrees with the other:\n\n \"I have seen these things done,\" he said, \"and have remonstrated with\n the State in the years 1888, 1889, and 1894, but never got\n satisfaction. I have been in the interior and have seen the ravages\n made by the State in pursuit of this iniquitous trade. Let me give an\n incident to show how this unrighteous trade affects the people. One\n day a State corporal","and\n active.\"\n\nIn 1903 there were 600 people surviving.\n\nIn 1894 Ikoko in the Crown Domain began to feel the effects of \"moral and\nmaterial regeneration.\" On May 30th of that year Mr. Clark writes:\n\n \"Owing to trouble with the State the Irebo people fled and left their\n homes. Yesterday the State soldiers shot a sick man who had not\n attempted to run away, and others have been killed by the State\n (native) soldiers, who, in the","administrative authorities of the\n region.\"\n\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\n\n \"In the morning, when about to start for K----, many people from the\n surrounding country came in to see me. They brought with them three\n individuals who had been shockingly wounded by gun fire, two men and a\n very small boy, not more than six years of age, and a fourth--a boy\n child of six or seven--whose right hand was cut off at the wrist. One\n of the men, who had been shot through the arm,","Grey declared that we\n\"could not wait forever,\" and yet we see that he is waiting still. In 1908\nthe long looked-for annexation came at last, and the Congo State exchanged\nthe blue flag with the golden star for the tricolour of Belgium. Immediate\nand radical reforms were promised, but the matter ended as all previous\npromises have done. In 1909 M. Renkin, the Belgian Colonial Minister, went\nout to inspect the Congo State, and had the frankness before going to say\nthat nothing would be","had been held up as a step toward improvement. The\nBritish Government had been assured that his visit would be of a nature to\neffect all necessary reforms. On arriving in the country, however, he\nannounced that he had no power to act, and only came to see and hear. Thus\na few more months were gained before any change could be effected. The\nonly small consolation which we can draw from all this succession of\nimpotent ambassadors and reforming committees, which do not, and were\nnever intended to, reform, is that the game has","raiders. Then, along all the lines of the rivers, posts\nwere being formed and stations established--some by the State and some by\nthe various concessionnaire companies for the development of their\ncommerce.\n\nIn the meantime, the State was tightening its grip upon the land with its\nproducts, and was working up the system which was destined to produce such\ngrim results in the near future. The independent traders were discouraged\nand stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian","their means of existence.\" Such are the words of 1886. Before the end of\n1887, an Act had been published, though not immediately put into force,\nwhich had the exactly opposite effect. By this Act all lands which were\nnot actually occupied by natives were proclaimed to be the property of the\nState. Consider for a moment what this meant! No land in such a country is\nactually occupied by natives save the actual site of their villages, and\nthe scanty fields of grain or manioc which surround them. Everywhere\nbeyond these tiny patches","and after this was set aside the natives had nothing\n but leaves to eat.\"\n\nAlso, that fines, which the Commission at once declared to be illegal,\nwere constantly levied on the people, and that these fines had continued\nafter the matter had been reported to the Governor-General. In spite of\nthis declaration of illegality, no steps were taken in the matter, and M.\nde Bauw, the chief offender, was by last accounts the supreme executive\nofficial of the district. At every turn one finds that there is no\nrelation at all between law","who acquiesced\nin it by their silence), I have marshalled witnesses in their successive\norder. Messrs. Glave, Murphy and Sjoblom have covered the time from 1894\nto 1897; Mr. Clark has carried it on to 1900; we have had the deeds of\n1901-4 as revealed in the Boma Law Courts. I shall now give the experience\nof Rev. Mr. Scrivener, an English missionary, who in July, August and\nSeptember, 1903",", which will take another year\nto produce, and will be utterly futile when reduced to practice. But the\nworld has seen this game too often. Surely it will not be made a fool of\nagain. There is some limit to European patience.\n\nMeanwhile, in this very month of August, 1909, a full year after the\nannexation by Belgium (an annexation, be it mentioned, which will not be\nofficially recognized by Great Britain until she is satisfied in the\nmatter of reforms), Prince Albert, the heir to the throne,","shoot more, and reprimanding him for not killing more\nthan one man in a district under his care where there was a little\ntrouble.\n\nMr. Scrivener had the opportunity while at this State post, under the\n_régime_ of a man who was endeavouring to be as humane as his instructions\nallowed, to actually see the process whereby the secret revenues of the\n\"Crown Domain\" are obtained. He says:\n\n \"Everything was on a military basis, but, so far as I could see, the\n ","this I passed on to the imprisonment of men, women\n and children. Following this I called attention to the destruction of\n the Baringa towns and the partial famine among the people in\n consequence. Also the large gangs of prisoners--men, women and\n children--imprisoned to carry out this work; the murder of two men\n whilst it was being done. Next followed the irregularities during\n 1903. The expedition conducted by an A.B.I.R. agent against\n Samb'ekota, and the arming continually of A","saw an\noutrage. No doubt he had formed the opinion that his brethren had been\nexaggerating. Then one day he heard an outburst of firing, and turned his\nlittle steamer to the spot. This is what he saw: \"They were horrified to\nfind the native soldiers of the Government under the eyes of their white\nofficers engaged in mutilating the dead bodies of the natives who had just\nbeen killed. Three native bodies were lying near the river's edge and\nhuman limbs were lying within a few yards from the steamer. A","eight years old, with a few girls among the batch, all stolen from the\n natives. The Commissary of the district is a violent-tempered fellow.\n While arranging to take on the hundred small slaves a woman who had\n charge of the youngsters was rather slow in understanding his order,\n delivered in very poor Kabanji. He sprang at her, slapped her in the\n face, and as she ran away, kicked her. They talk of philanthropy and\n civilization! Where it is, I do not know.\"\n\nAnd again:\n","subject.\n\n_Le Patriote_, of Brussels (Royalist and Catholic), in its issue of\nFebruary 28th, 1907, has an indignant editorial:\n\n \"The rebellion in the A.B.I.R. territory extends. The Government\n itself forces the rubber, and delivers it on the Antwerp quay to the\n brokers of the A.B.I.R.... Nothing is altered on the Congo. The same\n abominable measures are adopted; the same outrages take place...."," order to force the natives to furnish them with produce and to work\n for the Company, as also to pursue as rebels and outlaws those who\n sought to escape from the requisitions imposed upon them.... That,\n above all, the fact that the arrest of women and their detention, to\n compel the villages to furnish both produce and workmen, was tolerated\n and admitted even by certain of the administrative authorities of the\n region.\"\n\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\n\n \"In the morning, when about","a sick man who had not\n attempted to run away, and others have been killed by the State\n (native) soldiers, who, in the absence of a white man, do as they\n please.\"\n\nIn November, 1894:\n\n \"At Ikoko quite a number of people have been killed by the soldiers,\n and most of the others are living in the bush.\"\n\nIn the same month he complained officially to Commissaire Fievez:\n\n \"If you do not come soon and stop the present trouble the towns will\n be empty","the Commissary as prisoners. At the\n beginning they came with their smoked hands. The sentinels, or else\n the boys in attendance on them, put these hands on a little kiln, and\n after they had been smoked, they by and by put them on the top of the\n rubber baskets. I have on many occasions seen this done.\"\n\nThen we read in the latest State papers of the Belgian diplomatists that\nthey propose to continue the beneficent and civilizing work which they\nhave inherited.\n\nYet another paragraph from Mr."],["held by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles, it is an insult to\ncommon sense to suppose that the responsibility for the Congo has not\nalways rested with Belgium. The Belgian machinery was always ready to help\nand defend the State, but never to hold it in control and restrain it from\ncrime.\n\nOne chance Belgium had. If immediately upon taking over the State they had\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\nwith power to punish for all",", therefore, since whatever happens must be\nfor the better.\n\nCan a solution be found through Belgium?\n\nNo, it is impossible, and that should be recognized from the outset. The\nBelgians have been given their chance. They have had nearly twenty-five\nyears of undisturbed possession, and they have made it a hell upon earth.\nThey cannot disassociate themselves from this work or pretend that it was\ndone by a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital,","did not ask and desire their co-operation.\n\nFrom this date remonstrances were frequent from the British Government,\nthough they inadequately represented the anger and impatience of those\nBritish subjects who were aware of the true state of affairs. The British\nGovernment refrained from going to extremes because it was understood that\nthere would shortly be a Belgian annexation, and it was hoped that this\nwould mark the beginning of better things without the necessity for our\nintervention. Delay followed delay, and nothing was done. A Liberal\nGovernment was as","the admissions of the Belgian\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by","stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\nsources. Everywhere, in flagrant disregard of the Treaty of Berlin, the\nState proclaimed itself to be the sole landlord and the sole trader. In\nsome cases it worked its own so-called property, in other cases it leased\nit. Even those who had striven to help King Leopold in the earlier stages\nof his enterprise were thrown overboard. Major Parminter, himself engaged\nin trade upon the Cong","the palisades in the\n form of a cross.\"\n\nIn the face of these fresh revelations there was an outburst of feeling in\nBelgium, showing that it is only their ignorance of the true facts which\nprevents the inhabitants of that country from showing the same humanity as\nany other civilized nation would do. They have not yet realized the foul\nthings which have been done in their name. Surely when they do realize it\nthere will be a terrible reckoning! Some were already very alive to the\nquestion. MM. Vandervelde and Lorand fought br","fond of advancing will find it hard to reconcile the difference. Lord\nCromer ends his report:\n\n \"It appears to me that the facts which I have stated above afford\n amply sufficient evidence of the spirit which animates the Belgian\n Administration, if, indeed, Administration it can be called. The\n Government, so far as I could judge, is conducted almost exclusively\n on commercial principles, and, even judged by that standard, it would\n appear that those principles are somewhat short-sighted.\"\n\nIn the same White Book which contains these documents","to the Palace at Brussels. M.\nWahis, the Governor-General, a man who has played a sinister part in the\ncountry, came up the river and endeavoured to get the outspoken Swede to\ncontradict himself, or, failing that, to intimidate him. To get at the\ntruth or to right the wrong seems to have been the last thing in his mind,\nfor he knew well that the wrong was essential to the system, and that\nwithout it the wheels would move more slowly and the head engineer in\nEurope would soon wish to know what","of the\nprovisions of the Berlin Congress. Two only will suffice, as they are at\nthe same time the most important and the most flagrantly abused. The first\nof these (which forms the fifth article of the agreement) proclaims that\n\"No Power which exercises sovereign rights in the said regions shall be\nallowed to grant therein either monopoly or privilege of any kind in\ncommercial matters.\" No words could be clearer than that, but the Belgian\nrepresentatives, conscious that such a clause must disarm all opposition,\nwent out of their way","If immediately upon taking over the State they had\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\nwith power to punish for all past offences, and to examine all the\nscandals of recent years, then they would have done something to clear the\npast. If on the top of that they had freed the land, given up the system\nof forced labour entirely, and cancelled the charters of all the\nconcessionnaire companies, for the obvious reason that they have\nnotoriously abused their powers, then Belgium could go forward in its\ncolonizing enterprise on the","this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all the honours\nof war. M. de Favereau, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, alternately\nexplained that there was no connection at all between Belgium and the\nCongo State, and that it was a breach of Belgian patriotism to attack the\nlatter. The policy of the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which","Belgian, does not\nlike work when it is work which brings a benefit to others and none to\nhimself.\n\nBut in spite of this preamble, the Commission cannot escape the actual\nfacts.\n\n \"Numbers of agents only thought of one thing: to obtain as MUCH AS\n POSSIBLE IN THE SHORTEST POSSIBLE TIME, and their demands were often\n excessive. This IS NOT AT ALL ASTONISHING, AT ANY RATE AS REGARDS THE\n GATHERING OF THE PRODUCE OF THE DOMAIN","\nthem, or it; and the ship can be confiscated without prejudice to any\nsubsequent proceedings.\"\n\nThe sight of these insignificant lieutenants and captains, who are often\nnon-commissioned officers of the Belgian army, issuing proclamations which\nwere in distinct contradiction to the expressed will of all the great\nPowers of the world, might at the time have seemed ludicrous; but the\nhistory of the next seventeen years was to prove that a small malignant\nforce, driven on by greed, may prove to","the sunlight,\nthanks to the benevolent support of the Powers that have welcomed its\nappearance. Some Belgians administer it, while others, each day more\nnumerous, there increase their wealth.\" So he flashed the gold before the\neyes of his European subjects. Verily, if King Leopold deceived other\nPowers, he reserved the most dangerous of all his deceits for his own\ncountry. The day on which they turned from their own honest, healthy\ndevelopment to follow the Congo lure, and to administer without any\nprevious colonial experience a country more than","was destined to crush out all general private trade in\na country as large as the whole of Europe with Russia omitted. That was\nthe admitted outcome of their enterprise. Now listen to M. Beernaert, the\nBelgian Premier, speaking in the year 1885:\n\n \"The State, of which our King will be the Sovereign, will be a sort of\n international Colony. There will be no monopolies, no privileges....\n Quite the contrary: absolute freedom of commerce, freedom of property,\n freedom of navigation.\"\n\n"," '_contrainte par corps_' (bodily detention) during the month has to be\n furnished in duplicate, the book signed, and one of the copies\n transmitted to the Government.\"\n\nWhilst these organized outrages were continuing in the Congo, King\nLeopold, at Belgium, had taken a fresh step, which, in its cynical\ndisregard for any attempt at consistency, surpassed any of his previous\nperformances. Feeling that something must be done in the face of the\nfinding of his own delegates, he appointed a","naire companies, for the obvious reason that they have\nnotoriously abused their powers, then Belgium could go forward in its\ncolonizing enterprise on the same terms as other States, with her sins\nexpiated so far as expiation is now possible.\n\nShe did none of these things. For a year now she has herself persevered in\nthe evil ways of her predecessor. Her colony is a scandal before the whole\nworld. The era of murders and mutilations has, as we hope, passed by, but\nthe country is sunk into a state of cowed","as bad, and that we do not interfere._\n\nThe French Colonial system has usually been excellent, and there is,\ntherefore, every reason to believe that this one result of evil example\nwill soon be amended. There, at least, we have no Treaty obligation to\ninterfere.\n\n3.--_That the English agitation is due to jealousy of Belgian success._\n\nWe do not look upon it as success, but the most stupendous failure in\nhistory. What is there to be jealous of? Is it the making of money? But we","raiders. Then, along all the lines of the rivers, posts\nwere being formed and stations established--some by the State and some by\nthe various concessionnaire companies for the development of their\ncommerce.\n\nIn the meantime, the State was tightening its grip upon the land with its\nproducts, and was working up the system which was destined to produce such\ngrim results in the near future. The independent traders were discouraged\nand stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian","His\n Majesty's Government to confer with the other Powers, signatories of\n the Berlin General Act, by virtue of which the Congo Free State\n exists, in order that measures may be adopted to abate the evils\n prevalent in that State.\"\n\nIn July of the same year there occurred the famous three days' debate in\nthe Belgian House, which was really inaugurated by the British resolution.\nIn this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all"],[".\n\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\n\n Windlesham, Crowborough,\n September, 1909.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n PAGE\n\n Preface iii\n\n Introduction vii\n\n How the Congo Free State Came to be Founded 3\n\n The Development of the Congo State 9\n\n The Working of the System 22\n\n First Fruits of the System 27\n\n Further"," GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIME OF THE CONGO ***\n\n\n\n\nProduced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE CRIME OF THE CONGO\n\n\n\n\n The Crime of the Congo\n\n\n By A. Conan Doyle\n\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc","possible.\"\n\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\n\n \"Everywhere,\" he said, \"I hear the same news of the doings of the\n Congo Free State--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. It is\n said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... In Europe we\n understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\"\n\nOn","a grand\nsight to see the banner of humanity and civilization carried forward in\nsuch a cause by the two great English-speaking nations.\n\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nI am convinced that the reason why public opinion has not been more\nsensitive upon the question of the Congo Free State, is that the terrible\nstory has not been brought thoroughly home to the people. Mr. E. D. Morel\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\nstruggled hard with very","a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 1885 a State is formed for the \"moral and\nmaterial improvement of the native races.\" In 1903 the native \"is not\nentitled to anything.\" The two phrases mark the beginning and the end of\nKing Leopold's journey.\n\nIn 1904 the British Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\nof Consul Casement.","the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\n\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 188","driven him to his death, and by the\nlast reports neither his relatives nor his creditors have received any\nportion of this large sum. Consider the whole story and say if it is\nexaggeration to state that Gustav Maria Rabinck was robbed and murdered by\nthe Congo Free State.\n\nHaving shown in these two examples the way in which the Congo Free State\nhas dared to treat the citizens of European States who have traded within\nher borders, I will now proceed to detail, in chronological order, some\naccount of the dark story of that State's relations"," COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, 1909\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY A. CONAN DOYLE\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThere are many of us in England who consider the crime which has been\nwrought in the Congo lands by King Leopold of Belgium and his followers to\nbe the greatest which has ever been known in human annals. Personally I am\nstrongly of that opinion. There have been great expropriations","I\n\nHOW THE CONGO FREE STATE CAME TO BE FOUNDED\n\n\nIn the earlier years of his reign King Leopold of Belgium began to display\nthat interest in Central Africa which for a long time was ascribed to\nnobility and philanthropy, until the contrast between such motives, and\nthe actual unscrupulous commercialism, became too glaring to be sustained.\nAs far back as the year 1876 he called a conference of humanitarians and\ntravellers, who met at Brussels for the purpose of debating various plans\nby which",", is really a part of the design of the vile institution which\naims at debasing the black in order to be able to use him and abuse him\nwithout fear.\"--\"Le Régime Congolais,\" Liége, Lefranc.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's The Crime of the Congo, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle\n\n","ceived by the general public from the Congo Free State concerned the\nfounding of new stations, and the idea prevailed that King Leopold's\nenterprise was indeed working out upon the humanitarian lines which had\nbeen originally planned. Then, for the first time, incidents occurred\nwhich gave some glimpse of the violence and anarchy which really\nprevailed.\n\nThe first of these, so far as Great Britain is concerned, lay in the\ntreatment of natives from Sierra Leone, Lagos, and other British\nSettlements, who had been engaged by the Belgians to",", first, Great Britain\nand the Congo State; secondly, Great Britain and Belgium. In each case\nGreat Britain was, indeed, the spokesman of the civilized world.\n\nSo far as one can trace, no strong protest was raised by the British\nGovernment at the time when the Congo State took the fatal step, the\ndirect cause of everything which has followed, of leaving the honest\npath, trodden up to that time by all European Colonies, and seizing the\nland of the country as their own. Only in 1896 do we find protests",", he can do so in several ways. He can join the Congo\nReform Association (Granville House, Arundel Street, W. C.). He can write\nto his local member and aid in getting up local meetings to ventilate the\nquestion. Finally, he can pass this book on and purchase other copies, for\nany profits will be used in setting the facts before the French and German\npublic.\n\nIt may be objected that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\nAug","ed by a wild boar.\nThere must be many wild boars in Congo land, and their habits are of a\nsingular nature. It is not in the Congo that these boars are bred.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nKING LEOPOLD'S COMMISSION AND ITS REPORT\n\n\nThe immediate effect of the publication as a State paper of the general\ncomment of Lord Cromer, and of the definite accusations of Consul\nCasement, was a demand both in Belgium and in England for an official\ninquiry. Lord Lands","was the birth of the Congo Free State. Had\nthe nations gathered round been able to perceive its future, the betrayal\nof religion and civilization of which it would be guilty, the immense\nseries of crimes which it would perpetrate throughout Central Africa, the\nlowering of the prestige of all the white races, they would surely have\nstrangled the monster in its cradle.\n\nIt is not necessary to record in this statement the whole of the\nprovisions of the Berlin Congress. Two only will suffice, as they are at\nthe same time the most important and the most flag"," The Crime of the Congo\n\n\n By A. Conan Doyle\n\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc.\n\n\n New York\n Doubleday, Page & Company\n Mcmix\n\n\n\n\n ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION\n INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN\n\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, ","again,\nand a considerable debate took place in the House of Commons, which ended\nby passing a resolution with almost complete unanimity to the following\neffect:\n\n \"That the Government of the Congo Free State, having, at its\n inception, guaranteed to the Powers that its native subjects should be\n governed with humanity, and that no trading monopoly or privilege\n should be permitted within its dominions; this House requests His\n Majesty's Government to confer with the other Powers, signatories of\n the Berlin General Act, by virtue of which the","were all for\nLeopold, the one attracted by the prospect of pushing their missions into\nthe heart of Africa, the others delighted at the offer of an open market\nfor their produce. At the Congress of Berlin, which was called to regulate\nthe situation, the nations vied with each other in furthering the plans of\nthe King of the Belgians and in extolling his high aims. The Congo Free\nState was created amid general rejoicings. The veteran Bismarck, as\ncredulous as the others, pronounced its baptismal blessing. \"The New Congo\nState","had entered this dark land, and his\nexclamation was: \"The Bulgarian atrocities are child's play to what has\ntaken place here.\"\n\nFather Vermeersch then proceeds to deal with the Congo balance-sheets. His\ncriticism is most destructive. He shows at considerable length, and with a\nfine grasp of his subject, that there is really no connection at all\nbetween the so-called estimate and the actual budget. In the course of the\nState's development there is an excess running to millions of pounds which\nhas never been account","\n\n \"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\n consent and just compensation.\"\n\nAgain:\n\n \"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\"\n\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\n\n \"Humanity, whose cause we plead"],["WHOLE OF THE LAND,\n WITH THIS CONSEQUENCE: THAT IT CAN DISPOSE--ITSELF AND SOLELY--OF ALL\n THE PRODUCTS OF THE SOIL; PROSECUTE AS A POACHER ANY ONE WHO TAKES\n FROM THAT LAND THE LEAST OF ITS FRUITS, OR AS A RECEIVER OF STOLEN\n GOODS ANY ONE WHO RECEIVES SUCH FRUIT: FORBID ANY ONE TO ESTABLISH\n HIMSELF ON THE GREATER PART OF","villages and gardens. It\ndecrees that all the products of this immense region are its private\nproperty, and it monopolizes the trade in them. As regards the primitive\nproprietors, the native tribes, they are dispossessed by a simple\ncircular; permission is graciously granted to them to collect such\nproducts, but only on condition that they bring them for sale to the State\nfor whatever the latter may be pleased to give them. As regards alien\ntraders, they are prohibited in all this territory from trading with the\nnatives.\"\n\nEverywhere there were stern orders","their means of existence.\" Such are the words of 1886. Before the end of\n1887, an Act had been published, though not immediately put into force,\nwhich had the exactly opposite effect. By this Act all lands which were\nnot actually occupied by natives were proclaimed to be the property of the\nState. Consider for a moment what this meant! No land in such a country is\nactually occupied by natives save the actual site of their villages, and\nthe scanty fields of grain or manioc which surround them. Everywhere\nbeyond these tiny patches","PRIATION.\"\n\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\n\n \"Humanity, whose cause we plead, Christian rights, whose principles we\n endeavour to inculcate, compel us to touch briefly upon a curious and\n mysterious creation which is peculiar to the Congo State--the _Domaine\n de la Couronne_.\"\n\n \"What are the revenues of this mysterious civil personality?\n Estimates, more or less conjectural in nature, elaborated by M.\n Cattier appear to establish","ought that he was giving permission for the establishment of a station.\nThe idea that he was actually bartering away the land was never even in\nhis mind, for it was held by a communal tenure for the whole tribe, and it\nwas not his to barter. And yet it is on the strength of such treaties as\nthese that twenty millions of people have been expropriated, and the whole\nwealth and land of the country proclaimed to belong, not to the\ninhabitants, but to the State--that is, to King Leopold.\n\nWith this sheaf","\nReport they indicated that the question of the State appropriation of the\nland had forced itself upon their notice. \"If the State wishes to avoid\nthe principle of the State appropriation of vacant lands resulting in\nabuse,\" says the Report, \"it should place its agents and officials on\ntheir guard against too restrictive interpretation and too rigorous\napplications.\" Weak and trimming, it is true, but it was the cornerstone\nof all that the King had built, and how were they to knock it rudely out?\nTheir attitude was not heroic. But it was natural","\n\n \"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\n consent and just compensation.\"\n\nAgain:\n\n \"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\"\n\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\n\n \"Humanity, whose cause we plead","and, in fact, a great deal more, to prove\n the state of terrorism that exists, and the virtual slavery in which\n the people are held....\n\n \"So much for the journey to the Lake. It has enlarged my knowledge of\n the country, and also, alas! my knowledge of the awful deeds enacted\n in the mad haste of men to get rich. So far as I know, I am the first\n white man to go into the _Domaine Privé_ of the King, other than the\n employees of the State","SYSTEM\n\n\nHaving claimed, as I have shown, the whole of the land, and therefore the\nwhole of its products, the State--that is, the King--proceeded to\nconstruct a system by which these products could be gathered most rapidly\nand at least cost. The essence of this system was that the people who had\nbeen dispossessed (ironically called \"citizens\") were to be forced to\ngather, for the profit of the State, those very products which had been\ntaken from them. This was to be effected by two means; the one,","shoot more, and reprimanding him for not killing more\nthan one man in a district under his care where there was a little\ntrouble.\n\nMr. Scrivener had the opportunity while at this State post, under the\n_régime_ of a man who was endeavouring to be as humane as his instructions\nallowed, to actually see the process whereby the secret revenues of the\n\"Crown Domain\" are obtained. He says:\n\n \"Everything was on a military basis, but, so far as I could see, the\n ","\"Considering that\nno concession has been granted to gather rubber in the domains of the\nState within this district, (1) natives can only gather rubber on\ncondition of selling the same to the State; (2) any person or persons or\nvessels having in his or their possession, or on board, more than one\nkilogramme of rubber will have a _procèsverbal_ drawn up against him, or\nthem, or it; and the ship can be confiscated without prejudice to any\nsubsequent proceedings.\"\n\nThe sight of these","ed like brave and honest men.\n\nNaturally they laid all stress upon what could be said in favour of the\nKing and his creation. They would have been more than human had they not\ndone so. They enlarged upon the size and the traffic of the cities at the\nmouth of the Congo--as if the whole loot of a nation could pass down a\nriver without causing commerce and riches at its mouth. Very early in the\nReport they indicated that the question of the State appropriation of the\nland had forced itself upon their notice. \"If the State wishes to avoid\nthe","said:\n\n \"I also told them what we had seen on the Ikelemba, of the signs of\n desolation in all the districts, of the heartrending stories the\n people told us, of the butcheries wrought by the various white men of\n the State and companies who had, from time to time, been stationed\n there among whom a few names were notorious. I pointed out to them the\n fact that the basin of the Ikelemba was supposed to be free-trade\n territory also, but that everywhere the people","the constituent elements to a valid title of property exist. Let us\n suppose, moreover, that some great Belgian landowner wishes to convert\n portions of his property into sporting land--that land, nevertheless,\n remains in his entire possession. Amongst the Congo natives, no doubt,\n occupation is usually collective; but such occupation is as worthy of\n respect as no matter what individual appropriation.\"\n\nHe continues:\n\n \"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to","where neither are to be found that the agent has his own unfettered way.\nWith all these considerations, is it not clear that all the terrible facts\nwhich we know are but the mere margin of that welter of violence and\ninjustice which the Jesuit, Father Vermeersch, has summed up in the two\nwords, \"Immeasurable Misery!\"\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE WORKING OF THE SYSTEM\n\n\nHaving claimed, as I have shown, the whole of the land, and therefore the\nwhole of its products, the State"," from twenty to twenty-five days' labour every month_. There never was\n a 'forty hours per month labour law' in the Crown Domain, and so long\n as the tax is demanded in rubber, there never will be--at least in the\n section of it I visited. If that law were applied, no rubber would, or\n could possibly, be produced, for the simple reason that _there is no\n rubber left in this section of the Domain_.\n\n \"It was some time before I made the discovery that in the Domaine de\n la Couronne","stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\nsources. Everywhere, in flagrant disregard of the Treaty of Berlin, the\nState proclaimed itself to be the sole landlord and the sole trader. In\nsome cases it worked its own so-called property, in other cases it leased\nit. Even those who had striven to help King Leopold in the earlier stages\nof his enterprise were thrown overboard. Major Parminter, himself engaged\nin trade upon the Cong","\n place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been\n enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and father with\n daughter. \"Oh, Inglesia,\" cried the chief in conclusion, \"don't stay\n away long; if you do, they will come, I am sure they will come, and\n then these enfeebled legs will not support me, I cannot run away. I am\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\n stay away.\"\n\n ","all that the King had built, and how were they to knock it rudely out?\nTheir attitude was not heroic. But it was natural. They go on:\n\n \"As the greater portion of the land in the Congo is not under\n cultivation, this interpretation concedes to the State A RIGHT OF\n ABSOLUTE AND EXCLUSIVE OWNERSHIP OVER VIRTUALLY THE WHOLE OF THE LAND,\n WITH THIS CONSEQUENCE: THAT IT CAN DISPOSE--ITSELF AND SOLELY--OF ALL","riven to help King Leopold in the earlier stages\nof his enterprise were thrown overboard. Major Parminter, himself engaged\nin trade upon the Congo, sums up the situation in 1902 as follows: \"To sum\nup, the application of the new decrees of the Government signifies this:\nthat the State considers as its private property the whole of the Congo\nBasin, excepting the sites of the natives' villages and gardens. It\ndecrees that all the products of this immense region are its private\nproperty, and it monopolizes the trade in them"],[".\n\n \"Individual acts of atrocity here have for the most part ceased. The\n State agents seem to have come to the conclusion that it is a waste of\n cartridges to shoot down these people. BUT THE WHOLE SYSTEM IS A VAST\n ATROCITY INVOLVING THE PEOPLE IN A STATE OF UNIMAGINABLE MISERY. One\n man said to me, 'Slaves are happy compared with us. Slaves are\n protected by their masters, they are fed and clothed. As for us","ner's time, and stated that no\n village in this district had escaped murders under this man's\n _régime_.\n\n \"Next we dealt with irregularities common to all agents, calling\n attention to and proving by specific instances the public floggings of\n practically any and every one; quoting, for instance, seeing with my\n own eyes six Ngombe men receive one hundred strokes each, delivered\n simultaneously by two sentries.\n\n \"Next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men,\n ",",\n the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured\n me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to\n a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.\"\n\nAgain I insert a passage to show that Casement was by no means an\nill-natured critic:\n\n \"It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R.\n Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult\n and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as","administrative authorities of the\n region.\"\n\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\n\n \"In the morning, when about to start for K----, many people from the\n surrounding country came in to see me. They brought with them three\n individuals who had been shockingly wounded by gun fire, two men and a\n very small boy, not more than six years of age, and a fourth--a boy\n child of six or seven--whose right hand was cut off at the wrist. One\n of the men, who had been shot through the arm,","without the authority of the\n Governor-General.\"\n\nAnd, finally, his reasons for writing his book:\n\n \"The contemplation of an immeasurable misery has caused us to publish\n this book. The gravity of the evil, its roots causes, had long escaped\n us. When we knew them we could not retain within ourselves the\n compassion with which we were imbued, and we resolved to tell the\n citizens of a generous country, appealing to their religion, to their\n patriotism, to their hearts.\"\n\nSurely after such evidence from such","in the country, and the present occupant of the post was endeavouring to\ncarry out the duties assigned to him (those duties consisting, as usual,\nof orders to get all the rubber possible out of the people) with as much\nhumanity as the nature of the task permitted. In this he, no doubt, did\nwhat was possible as one whom the system had not yet degraded to its\nlevel--one of the rare few: and one cannot wonder that they should be\nrare, seeing the nature of the bonds, and the helplessness in which an\nofficial is placed","but\n should receive a little humanity. They are naked, except for a\n miserable patch of cloth of several parts, held in place by a string\n round the waist. They are not loosened from the rope for any purpose.\n They live in the guard-house under the charge of black native\n sentries, who delight in slapping and ill-using them, for pity is not\n in the heart of the native. Some of the women have babies, but they go\n to work just the same. They form, indeed, a miserable spectacle, and\n one w","the result of my journey through this portion of the country, I am\n forced to the conclusion that the condition of the people in the\n A.B.I.R. territory _is deplorable_, and although those living in the\n vicinity of the mission stations are, comparatively speaking, safe\n from ill-treatment by the rubber agents and their armed sentries,\n those in other parts are subjected to the gravest abuses.\n\n \"There is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a\n totally inadequate wage. In","ased, but mainly\nupon the general condition of the people, which is one of deplorable\npoverty and misery--a slavery without that care which the owner was bound\nto exercise over the health and strength of the slave. I shall give\nwithout comment some extracts from the reports of Vice-Consul Mitchell,\nwhich date from July, 1906:\n\n \"Most of the primitive bridges over the numerous creeks and marshes\n had rotted away, and we had some difficulty in crossing on fallen\n trees or a few thin sticks. This was the","only condones, but actually\ncommands it by private circular. Again the gap which lies betwixt law and\nfact where the interest of gain is concerned.\n\n \"It was barely denied,\" the Report continues, \"that in the various\n posts of the A.B.I.R. which we visited, the imprisonment of women\n hostages, the subjection of the chiefs to servile labour, the\n humiliations meted out to them, the flogging of rubber collectors, the\n brutality of the black employés set over the prisoners,","\n\nFurther on he says:\n\n \"Every village had been burned to the ground, and as I fled from the\n country I saw skeletons, skeletons everywhere. And such postures! What\n tales of horror they told.\"\n\nJust a word in conclusion from another witness, Mr. Herbert Frost:\n\n \"The power of an armed soldier among enslaved people is absolutely\n paramount. By chief or child, every command, wish, or whim of the\n soldier must be obeyed or gratified. At his command with rifle ready a",":\n\n \"In addition, fifty women are required each morning to go to the\n factory and work there all day. They complained that the remuneration\n given for these services was most inadequate, and that they were\n continually beaten. When I asked the Chief W why he had not gone to D\n F to complain if the sentries beat him or his people, opening his\n mouth he pointed to one of the teeth which was just dropping out, and\n said: 'That is what I got from the D F four days ago when I went to\n tell him","kes each, delivered\n simultaneously by two sentries.\n\n \"Next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men,\n women and children, all herded together in one shed, with no\n arrangement for the demands of nature. Further, that very many,\n including even chiefs, had died either in prison or immediately on\n their release.\n\n \"Next, the mutilation of the woman Boaji, because she wished to remain\n faithful to her husband, and refused to subject herself to the\n passions of the sentries. The woman","\n \"I stayed at Basoko for five days, partly at Dr. Grossule's request,\n and partly in the endeavour to learn something of the operations\n going on in the interior. Three canoe-loads of prisoners arrived, all\n heavily loaded with chains. But all I could learn was that they were\n sent in by Lieutenant Baron von Otter, who had been sent to the\n promontory lying between the mouth of the Aruwimi and the Congo to\n enforce the Labour Ordinances.\n\n \"In all the Basenji","Lothaire, in similar circumstances, was allowed to slip\nfrom the country. An insignificant agent may be occasionally made an\nexample of, but to punish the local manager of a great company would be to\nlessen the output of rubber, and what are morality and justice compared to\nthat?\n\nWhy should one continue with the testimony given before the Commission?\nTheir wanderings covered a little space of the country and were confined\nto the main river, but everywhere they elicited the same tale of slavery,\nmutilation, and murder. What Scrivener and","of the women have babies, but they go\n to work just the same. They form, indeed, a miserable spectacle, and\n one wonders that old women, although prisoners of war, should not\n receive a little more consideration; at least, their nakedness might\n be hidden. The men prisoners are treated in a far better way.\"\n\nDescribing the natives he says:\n\n \"The natives are not lazy, good-for-nothing fellows. Their fine powers\n are obtained by hard work, sobriety and frugal living.\"\n\nHe","est abuses.\n\n \"There is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a\n totally inadequate wage. In visiting the various rubber-working towns,\n one would expect to see some signs of European commodities that had\n been given in exchange for the millions of pounds' worth of rubber\n that has been extracted from them, but the native residents possess\n actually nothing at all.\n\n \"_Their conditions of living are deplorable_, and the filth and\n squalor of their villages is only too apparent. _The people live in","I am\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\n stay away.\"\n\n \"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\"\n\nIt is terrible to","ain\" are obtained. He says:\n\n \"Everything was on a military basis, but, so far as I could see, the\n one and only reason for it all was rubber. It was the theme of every\n conversation, and it was evident that the only way to please one's\n superiors was to increase the output somehow. I saw a few men come in,\n and the frightened look even now on their faces tells only too\n eloquently of the awful time they have passed through. As I saw it\n brought in, each man had a little basket","all rushed away like chaff before\n the wind. He told a little boy, eight or nine years of age, to go and\n cut off the right hand of the man who had been shot. The man was not\n quite dead, and when he felt the knife he tried to drag his hand away.\n The boy, after some labour, cut the hand off and laid it by a fallen\n tree. A little later this hand was put on a fire to smoke before being\n sent to the Commissary.\"\n\nHere we get the system at its highest. I think that picture of"],["\n \"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\n into this state now.\"\n\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty","aside, and acted himself as torturer and executioner. As\na rule, however, the relationship was as I have stated, the outrages being\nactually committed by the capitas, but with the approval of, and often in\nthe presence of, their white employers.\n\nIt would be absurd to suppose that the agents were all equally merciless,\nand that there were not some who were torn in two by the desire for wealth\nand promotion on the one side and the horror of their daily task upon the\nother. Here are two illustrative extracts from the letters of Lieutenant\nTil","skin of the wretched victims who, although strongly\nbuilt, gasp in terrible contortions.\n\n\"Often the blood trickles, more rarely fainting ensues. Regularly and\nwithout cessation the chicotte winds round the flesh of these martyrs of\nthe most relentless and loathsome tyrants who have ever disgraced\nhumanity. At the first blows the unhappy victims utter terrible shrieks\nwhich soon die down to low groans. In addition, when the officer who\norders the punishment is in a bad humour, he k","natives of a\ncertain village which had been slow in bringing its rubber. He had carried\nout the order. Later, his chief had put sixty women in irons, and allowed\nnearly all of them to die of hunger because the village--Mummumbula--had\nnot brought enough rubber. \"I am going to be tried,\" he wrote, \"for having\nmurdered one hundred and fifty men, for having crucified women and\nchildren, and for having mutilated many men and hung the remains on the\nvillage fence.\" At the same moment as this confession","of men, women and\nchildren killed by the sentries of a M. Pilaet.\n\n \"Last year,\" he says, \"or the year before, the young woman, Imenega,\n was tied to a forked tree and chopped in half with a hatchet,\n beginning at the left shoulder, chopping down through the chest and\n abdomen and out at the side.\" Again, with every detail of name and\n place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been\n enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and","ner's time, and stated that no\n village in this district had escaped murders under this man's\n _régime_.\n\n \"Next we dealt with irregularities common to all agents, calling\n attention to and proving by specific instances the public floggings of\n practically any and every one; quoting, for instance, seeing with my\n own eyes six Ngombe men receive one hundred strokes each, delivered\n simultaneously by two sentries.\n\n \"Next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men,\n ","asked by the rubber agent if he would bring\n in rubber now. He replied that he would. Although a chief of\n considerable standing, he has been flogged, imprisoned, tied by the\n neck with men who were regarded as slaves, made to do the most menial\n work, and his beard, which was of many years' growth, and reached\n almost to the ground, was cut off by the rubber agent because he\n visited another town.\"\n\nLontulu was cross-examined by the Commission and his evidence was not\nshaken. Here are some of","its are specially\ninvited.\n\n\"The chief of the post points out the victims; they leave the ranks and\ncome forward, for at the least attempt at flight they would be brutally\nseized by the soldiers, struck in the face by the representative of the\nFree State and the punishment would be doubled. Trembling and terrified,\nthey stretch themselves face down before the captain and his colleagues;\ntwo of their companions, sometimes four, seize them by their hands and\nfeet and take off their waistcloth. Then, armed with a lash of\nhippopotam","on a fire to smoke before being\n sent to the Commissary.\"\n\nHere we get the system at its highest. I think that picture of the child\nhacking off the hand of the dying man at the order of the monster who\nwould have assuredly murdered him also had he hesitated to obey, is as\ndiabolical a one as even the Congo could show. A pretty commentary upon\nthe doctrine of Christ which the missionary was there to preach!\n\nMr. Sjoblom seems to have been unable to believe at first that such deeds\nwere done with the","dying he had given him\nthe charge of two infant brothers and enjoined him to guard them tenderly.\nHe had cared for them until he had been compelled at last to go himself\ninto the forest to gather the rubber. One week their quantity had been\nshort. When he returned from the wood the village had been raided in his\nabsence, and he found his two little brothers lying disembowelled across a\nlog. The company, however, paid 200 per cent.\n\nFour natives had been tortured until they cried out for some one to bring\na gun and","Lothaire, in similar circumstances, was allowed to slip\nfrom the country. An insignificant agent may be occasionally made an\nexample of, but to punish the local manager of a great company would be to\nlessen the output of rubber, and what are morality and justice compared to\nthat?\n\nWhy should one continue with the testimony given before the Commission?\nTheir wanderings covered a little space of the country and were confined\nto the main river, but everywhere they elicited the same tale of slavery,\nmutilation, and murder. What Scrivener and","useful\nhe was, the more eagerly the villagers obeyed him, and the more rubber\nyielded its commission to the agent. When the amount fell off, then the\ncapita was himself made to feel some of those physical pains which he had\ninflicted upon others. Often the white agent far exceeded in cruelty the\nbarbarian who carried out his commissions. Often, too, the white man\npushed the black aside, and acted himself as torturer and executioner. As\na rule, however, the relationship was as I have stated, the outrages being","be mutilated like that, and those parts of you carried to him?'\n\n \"P P, O O, and all (shouting): 'Yes! many white men. D E did it.'\n\n \"_Q._ 'You say this is true? Were many of you so treated after being\n shot?'\n\n \"All (shouting out): 'Nkoto! Nkoto!' (Very many! Very many!)\n\n \"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not","Captain Boyd Alexander, or Mrs. French Sheldon say in\nthe face of a mass of evidence with the actual mutilated limbs and\nexcoriated backs to enforce it? Can they say more than the man actually\nincriminated, M. Le Jeune, the chief agent at the spot? \"What have you to\nsay?\" asked the President. M. Le Jeune shrugged his shoulders. He had\nnothing to say. The President, who had listened, to his honour be it\nspoken, with tears running down his cheeks to some of the evidence, cried\nout in amaz",", somewhere, they will have their reward!\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX\n\n\nNOTE I--THE CHICOTTE\n\nChicotting is alluded to in Congo annals as a minor punishment, freely\ninflicted upon women and children. It is really a terrible torture, which\nleaves the victim flayed and fainting. There is a science in the\nadministration of it. Félicien Challaye tells of a Belgian officer who\nbecame communicative upon the subject. \"One can hardly believe,\" said the\nbrute","beat them, mutilated them, and shot them\ndown at his pleasure. He enforced public incest in order to amuse himself\nby the sight. Sometimes they plucked up spirit and killed him. The Belgian\nCommission records that 142 capitas had been killed in seven months in a\nsingle district. Then came the punitive expedition, and the destruction of\nthe whole community. The more terror the capita inspired, the more useful\nhe was, the more eagerly the villagers obeyed him, and the more rubber\nyielded its commission to the agent. When the","kes each, delivered\n simultaneously by two sentries.\n\n \"Next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men,\n women and children, all herded together in one shed, with no\n arrangement for the demands of nature. Further, that very many,\n including even chiefs, had died either in prison or immediately on\n their release.\n\n \"Next, the mutilation of the woman Boaji, because she wished to remain\n faithful to her husband, and refused to subject herself to the\n passions of the sentries. The woman",", good-for-nothing fellows. Their fine powers\n are obtained by hard work, sobriety and frugal living.\"\n\nHe gives a glimpse of what the chicotte is like, the favourite and\nuniversal instrument of torture used by the agents and officers of the\nFree State:\n\n \"The 'chicotte' of raw hippo hide, especially a new one, trimmed like\n a corkscrew, with edges like knife-blades, and as hard as wood, is a\n terrible weapon, and a few blows bring blood; not more","ain\" are obtained. He says:\n\n \"Everything was on a military basis, but, so far as I could see, the\n one and only reason for it all was rubber. It was the theme of every\n conversation, and it was evident that the only way to please one's\n superiors was to increase the output somehow. I saw a few men come in,\n and the frightened look even now on their faces tells only too\n eloquently of the awful time they have passed through. As I saw it\n brought in, each man had a little basket","meted out to them, the flogging of rubber collectors, the\n brutality of the black employés set over the prisoners, were the rule\n commonly followed.\"\n\nThen follows an illuminative passage about the sentries, capitas or\n\"forest guards,\" or messengers, as they are alternatively called. It is a\nwonder that they were not called hospital orderlies in the efforts to make\nthem seem inoffensive. What they actually were was, as we have seen, some\ntwenty thousand cannibals armed with Albini repeating"],[" GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIME OF THE CONGO ***\n\n\n\n\nProduced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE CRIME OF THE CONGO\n\n\n\n\n The Crime of the Congo\n\n\n By A. Conan Doyle\n\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc","possible.\"\n\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\n\n \"Everywhere,\" he said, \"I hear the same news of the doings of the\n Congo Free State--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. It is\n said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... In Europe we\n understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\"\n\nOn"," The Crime of the Congo\n\n\n By A. Conan Doyle\n\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc.\n\n\n New York\n Doubleday, Page & Company\n Mcmix\n\n\n\n\n ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION\n INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN\n\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, ",".\n\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\n\n Windlesham, Crowborough,\n September, 1909.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n PAGE\n\n Preface iii\n\n Introduction vii\n\n How the Congo Free State Came to be Founded 3\n\n The Development of the Congo State 9\n\n The Working of the System 22\n\n First Fruits of the System 27\n\n Further","a grand\nsight to see the banner of humanity and civilization carried forward in\nsuch a cause by the two great English-speaking nations.\n\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nI am convinced that the reason why public opinion has not been more\nsensitive upon the question of the Congo Free State, is that the terrible\nstory has not been brought thoroughly home to the people. Mr. E. D. Morel\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\nstruggled hard with very"," COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, 1909\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY A. CONAN DOYLE\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThere are many of us in England who consider the crime which has been\nwrought in the Congo lands by King Leopold of Belgium and his followers to\nbe the greatest which has ever been known in human annals. Personally I am\nstrongly of that opinion. There have been great expropriations",", is really a part of the design of the vile institution which\naims at debasing the black in order to be able to use him and abuse him\nwithout fear.\"--\"Le Régime Congolais,\" Liége, Lefranc.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's The Crime of the Congo, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle\n\n","I am\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\n stay away.\"\n\n \"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\"\n\nIt is terrible to","a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 1885 a State is formed for the \"moral and\nmaterial improvement of the native races.\" In 1903 the native \"is not\nentitled to anything.\" The two phrases mark the beginning and the end of\nKing Leopold's journey.\n\nIn 1904 the British Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\nof Consul Casement.","the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\n\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 188","driven him to his death, and by the\nlast reports neither his relatives nor his creditors have received any\nportion of this large sum. Consider the whole story and say if it is\nexaggeration to state that Gustav Maria Rabinck was robbed and murdered by\nthe Congo Free State.\n\nHaving shown in these two examples the way in which the Congo Free State\nhas dared to treat the citizens of European States who have traded within\nher borders, I will now proceed to detail, in chronological order, some\naccount of the dark story of that State's relations","ceived by the general public from the Congo Free State concerned the\nfounding of new stations, and the idea prevailed that King Leopold's\nenterprise was indeed working out upon the humanitarian lines which had\nbeen originally planned. Then, for the first time, incidents occurred\nwhich gave some glimpse of the violence and anarchy which really\nprevailed.\n\nThe first of these, so far as Great Britain is concerned, lay in the\ntreatment of natives from Sierra Leone, Lagos, and other British\nSettlements, who had been engaged by the Belgians to","ran away, kicked her. They talk of philanthropy and\n civilization! Where it is, I do not know.\"\n\nAnd again:\n\n \"Most white officers out on the Congo are averse to the india-rubber\n policy of the State, but the laws command it. Therefore, at each post\n one finds the natives deserting their homes, and escaping to the\n French side of the river when possible.\"\n\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\n\n \"Everywhere,\" he said, \"I hear the same news of the",", he can do so in several ways. He can join the Congo\nReform Association (Granville House, Arundel Street, W. C.). He can write\nto his local member and aid in getting up local meetings to ventilate the\nquestion. Finally, he can pass this book on and purchase other copies, for\nany profits will be used in setting the facts before the French and German\npublic.\n\nIt may be objected that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\nAug","\n\n \"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\n consent and just compensation.\"\n\nAgain:\n\n \"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\"\n\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\n\n \"Humanity, whose cause we plead","again,\nand a considerable debate took place in the House of Commons, which ended\nby passing a resolution with almost complete unanimity to the following\neffect:\n\n \"That the Government of the Congo Free State, having, at its\n inception, guaranteed to the Powers that its native subjects should be\n governed with humanity, and that no trading monopoly or privilege\n should be permitted within its dominions; this House requests His\n Majesty's Government to confer with the other Powers, signatories of\n the Berlin General Act, by virtue of which the",", first, Great Britain\nand the Congo State; secondly, Great Britain and Belgium. In each case\nGreat Britain was, indeed, the spokesman of the civilized world.\n\nSo far as one can trace, no strong protest was raised by the British\nGovernment at the time when the Congo State took the fatal step, the\ndirect cause of everything which has followed, of leaving the honest\npath, trodden up to that time by all European Colonies, and seizing the\nland of the country as their own. Only in 1896 do we find protests","and M.\nVandervelde, the fearless Belgian advocate of liberty, has set forth to\nact for the accused. What M. Labori was to Dreyfus, M. Vandervelde has\nbeen to the Congo, save that it is a whole nation who are his clients. He\nand his noble comrade, Mr. Lorand, are the two men who redeem the record\nof infamy which must long darken the good name of Belgium.\n\nI will now deal swiftly with the records of evil deeds which have occurred\nsince the time which I","ed by a wild boar.\nThere must be many wild boars in Congo land, and their habits are of a\nsingular nature. It is not in the Congo that these boars are bred.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nKING LEOPOLD'S COMMISSION AND ITS REPORT\n\n\nThe immediate effect of the publication as a State paper of the general\ncomment of Lord Cromer, and of the definite accusations of Consul\nCasement, was a demand both in Belgium and in England for an official\ninquiry. Lord Lands","Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\nof Consul Casement. This document, circulated officially all over the\nglobe, must have opened the eyes of the nations, if any were still shut,\nto the true object and development of King Leopold's enterprise. It was\nhoped that this action upon the part of Great Britain would be the first\nstep toward intervention, and, indeed, Lord Lansdowne made it clear in so\nmany words that our hand was outstretched, and that if any"],[" COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, 1909\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY A. CONAN DOYLE\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThere are many of us in England who consider the crime which has been\nwrought in the Congo lands by King Leopold of Belgium and his followers to\nbe the greatest which has ever been known in human annals. Personally I am\nstrongly of that opinion. There have been great expropriations"," The Crime of the Congo\n\n\n By A. Conan Doyle\n\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc.\n\n\n New York\n Doubleday, Page & Company\n Mcmix\n\n\n\n\n ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION\n INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN\n\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, ","a grand\nsight to see the banner of humanity and civilization carried forward in\nsuch a cause by the two great English-speaking nations.\n\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nI am convinced that the reason why public opinion has not been more\nsensitive upon the question of the Congo Free State, is that the terrible\nstory has not been brought thoroughly home to the people. Mr. E. D. Morel\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\nstruggled hard with very"," GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIME OF THE CONGO ***\n\n\n\n\nProduced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE CRIME OF THE CONGO\n\n\n\n\n The Crime of the Congo\n\n\n By A. Conan Doyle\n\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc","remarked before beginning that at some of these conversations with the\nnatives Mr. Scrivener was present, and that he corroborates the account\ngiven by the Consul.\n\nThe beginning of Mr. Casement's report shows how willing he was to give\npraise where praise was possible, and to say all that could be said for\nthe Administration. He talks of \"energetic European intervention,\" and\nadds, \"that very much of this intervention has been called for no one who\nformerly knew the Upper Congo could doubt.\" \"Admirably built and admir","\n_entente cordiale_ would be strained to breaking. Surely, then, if these\nthree Powers, the ones most directly involved, have such obvious reasons\nfor helping, rather than hindering, we may go forward without fear. But if\nit were not so, if all Europe frowned upon our enterprise, we would not be\nworthy to be the sons of our fathers if we did not go forward on the plain\npath of national duty.\n\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\n\n Windlesham, Crowborough,\n September, 1909.","assigned to\nthis malady. The natives certainly attribute their alarming death-rate to\nthis as one of the inducing causes, although they attribute, and I think\nprincipally, their rapid decrease in numbers to other causes as well.\"\n\nThe Government work shop \"was brightness, care, order, and activity, and\nit was impossible not to admire and commend the industry which had created\nand maintained in constant working order this useful establishment.\"\n\nThese are not the words of a critic who has started with a prejudiced mind\nor the desire to make out a case.\n\n","\n \"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\n into this state now.\"\n\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty",", is really a part of the design of the vile institution which\naims at debasing the black in order to be able to use him and abuse him\nwithout fear.\"--\"Le Régime Congolais,\" Liége, Lefranc.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's The Crime of the Congo, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle\n\n","dusty and malodorous; covered with insects as their huge procession\n passes over mountains and through valleys; dying on the tramp, or,\n when the tramp is over, going to their villages to die of exhaustion.\"\n\nIt will be remembered that Captain Lothaire, having been acquitted of the\nmurder of Mr. Stokes, was sent out by King Leopold to act as\nmanaging-director of the Anversoise Trust. In 1898, he arrived in the\nMongalla District, and from then onward there",".\n\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\n\n Windlesham, Crowborough,\n September, 1909.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n PAGE\n\n Preface iii\n\n Introduction vii\n\n How the Congo Free State Came to be Founded 3\n\n The Development of the Congo State 9\n\n The Working of the System 22\n\n First Fruits of the System 27\n\n Further","it had been brought\nunder his notice.\n\nMr. Scrivener, a gentleman who had been twenty-three years on the Congo,\nwas the next witness. His evidence was largely the same as the \"Diary\"\nfrom which I have already quoted, concerning the condition of the Crown\nDomain. Many witnesses were examined. \"How do you know the names of the\nmen murdered?\" a lad was asked. \"One of them was my father,\" was the\ndramatic reply. \"Men of stone,\" wrote Mr. Scrivener, \"would be moved by\nthe stories that are","efficient agent of the Anversoise Society, that same company whose\nred-edged securities rose to such a height when Manager Lothaire taught\nthe natives what a minister in the Belgian House described as the\nChristian law of work. He did his best for the company, and he did his\nbest for himself, for he had a three per cent. commission upon the\nrubber. Why he should be chosen among all his fellow-murderers is hard to\nexplain, but it was so, and he found himself at Boma with a sentence of\ntwenty years. On","A word or two as to Mr. Casement's own personality and qualifications may\nnot be amiss, since both were attacked by his Belgian detractors. He is a\ntried and experienced public servant, who has had exceptional\nopportunities of knowing Africa and the natives. He entered the Consular\nService in 1892, served on the Niger till 1895, was Consul at Delagoa Bay\nto 1898, and was finally transferred to the Congo. Personally, he is a man\nof the highest character, truthful",", had not at that\ntime attained the efficiency which it afterward reached. This letter from\nLacroix was published on April 10th, 1900, and shed a lurid light upon\nwhat had been going on in the Mongalla District. It was a confession, but\na confession which involved his superiors as well as himself. He told how\nhe had been instructed by his chief to massacre all the natives of a\ncertain village which had been slow in bringing its rubber. He had carried\nout the order. Later, his chief had put sixty","want? Tell us, and we will get it for\n you.'\"\n\nSpeaking of English scepticism as to King Leopold's intentions, he says:\n\n \"Though they understand the satisfaction of a sentiment when applied\n to England, they are slow to understand that it may be a sentiment\n that induced King Leopold II. to father this International\n Association. He is a dreamer, like his _confrères_ in the work,\n because the sentiment is applied to the neglected millions of the Dark\n Continent. They cannot appreciate rightly","Mr. E. D. Morel\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\nstruggled hard with very scanty means; but their time and energies have,\nfor the most part, been absorbed in dealing with each fresh phase of the\nsituation as it arose. There is room, therefore, as it seemed to me, for a\ngeneral account which would cover the whole field and bring the matter up\nto date. This account must necessarily be a superficial one, if it is to\nbe produced at such a size and such a price,","body,\nthe matter would have been simple. But of the three good care had been\ntaken that two should be men who would have to answer for what was said.\nMr. Janssens was a more or less independent man, but a Belgian, and a\nsubject all the same. Baron Nisco was in the actual employ of the King,\nand his future was at stake. On the whole, I think that the Commissioners\nacted like brave and honest men.\n\nNaturally they laid all stress upon what could be said in favour of the\nKing and his creation. They",",\n the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured\n me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to\n a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.\"\n\nAgain I insert a passage to show that Casement was by no means an\nill-natured critic:\n\n \"It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R.\n Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult\n and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as","\nto 1898, and was finally transferred to the Congo. Personally, he is a man\nof the highest character, truthful, unselfish--one who is deeply respected\nby all who know him. His experience, which deals with the Crown Domain\ndistricts in the year 1903, covers some sixty-two pages, to be read in\nfull in \"White Book, Africa, No. 1, 1904.\" I will not apologize for the\nlength of the extracts, as this, the first official exposure, was an\n"],["was won over to advancing ten\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\nsprang up which has eventually led to annexation. At the time of this loan\nKing Leopold let it be known that he had left the Congo Free State in his\nwill to Belgium. In this document appear the words, \"A young and spacious\nState, directed from Brussels, has pacifically appeared in the sunlight,\nthanks to the benevolent support of the Powers that have welcomed its\nappearance. Some Belgians administer it, while others","that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\nAugust 10th, 1908. But responsibility cannot be so easily shaken off. The\nCongo State was founded by the Belgian King, and exploited by Belgian\ncapital, Belgian soldiers and Belgian concessionnaires. It was defended\nand upheld by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles","Grey declared that we\n\"could not wait forever,\" and yet we see that he is waiting still. In 1908\nthe long looked-for annexation came at last, and the Congo State exchanged\nthe blue flag with the golden star for the tricolour of Belgium. Immediate\nand radical reforms were promised, but the matter ended as all previous\npromises have done. In 1909 M. Renkin, the Belgian Colonial Minister, went\nout to inspect the Congo State, and had the frankness before going to say\nthat nothing would be","oulded.\n\nIn the meantime King Leopold, feeling the weakness of his personal\nposition in face of the great enterprise which lay before him in Africa,\nendeavoured more and more to draw Belgium, as a State, into the matter.\nAlready the Congo State was largely the outcome of Belgian work and of\nBelgian money, but, theoretically, there was no connection between the two\ncountries. Now the Belgian Parliament was won over to advancing ten\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\nsprang up which has eventually",", which will take another year\nto produce, and will be utterly futile when reduced to practice. But the\nworld has seen this game too often. Surely it will not be made a fool of\nagain. There is some limit to European patience.\n\nMeanwhile, in this very month of August, 1909, a full year after the\nannexation by Belgium (an annexation, be it mentioned, which will not be\nofficially recognized by Great Britain until she is satisfied in the\nmatter of reforms), Prince Albert, the heir to the throne,",", therefore, since whatever happens must be\nfor the better.\n\nCan a solution be found through Belgium?\n\nNo, it is impossible, and that should be recognized from the outset. The\nBelgians have been given their chance. They have had nearly twenty-five\nyears of undisturbed possession, and they have made it a hell upon earth.\nThey cannot disassociate themselves from this work or pretend that it was\ndone by a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital,","this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all the honours\nof war. M. de Favereau, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, alternately\nexplained that there was no connection at all between Belgium and the\nCongo State, and that it was a breach of Belgian patriotism to attack the\nlatter. The policy of the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which","did not ask and desire their co-operation.\n\nFrom this date remonstrances were frequent from the British Government,\nthough they inadequately represented the anger and impatience of those\nBritish subjects who were aware of the true state of affairs. The British\nGovernment refrained from going to extremes because it was understood that\nthere would shortly be a Belgian annexation, and it was hoped that this\nwould mark the beginning of better things without the necessity for our\nintervention. Delay followed delay, and nothing was done. A Liberal\nGovernment was as","was destined to crush out all general private trade in\na country as large as the whole of Europe with Russia omitted. That was\nthe admitted outcome of their enterprise. Now listen to M. Beernaert, the\nBelgian Premier, speaking in the year 1885:\n\n \"The State, of which our King will be the Sovereign, will be a sort of\n international Colony. There will be no monopolies, no privileges....\n Quite the contrary: absolute freedom of commerce, freedom of property,\n freedom of navigation.\"\n\n","a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital, and was endorsed and\ndefended by Belgian governments. It is out of the question that Belgium\nshould remain on the Congo.\n\nNor, in face of reform, would Belgium wish to be there. She could not\ncarry the burden. When the country is restored to its inhabitants together\nwith their freedom, it will be in the same position as those German and\nEnglish colonies which entail heavy annual expenditure from the mother\n",".\n\nAnd what shall that action be? War with Belgium? On them must rest the\nresponsibility for that. Our measures must be directed against the Congo\nState, which has not yet been recognized by us as being a possession of\nBelgium. If Belgium take up the quarrel then so be it. There are many ways\nin which we can bring the Congo State to her knees. A blockade of the\nCongo is one, but it has the objection of the international complications\nwhich might ensue. An easier way would be to proclaim this guilty land as\nan out","claimed to belong, not to the\ninhabitants, but to the State--that is, to King Leopold.\n\nWith this sheaf of treaties in his portfolio the King of the Belgians now\napproached the Powers with high sentiments of humanitarianism, and with a\ndefinite request that the State which he was forming should receive some\nrecognized status among the nations. Was he at that time consciously\nhypocritical? Did he already foresee how widely his future actions would\ndiffer from his present professions? It is a problem which will interest\n","the admissions of the Belgian\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by","held by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles, it is an insult to\ncommon sense to suppose that the responsibility for the Congo has not\nalways rested with Belgium. The Belgian machinery was always ready to help\nand defend the State, but never to hold it in control and restrain it from\ncrime.\n\nOne chance Belgium had. If immediately upon taking over the State they had\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\nwith power to punish for all","stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\nsources. Everywhere, in flagrant disregard of the Treaty of Berlin, the\nState proclaimed itself to be the sole landlord and the sole trader. In\nsome cases it worked its own so-called property, in other cases it leased\nit. Even those who had striven to help King Leopold in the earlier stages\nof his enterprise were thrown overboard. Major Parminter, himself engaged\nin trade upon the Cong","I\n\nHOW THE CONGO FREE STATE CAME TO BE FOUNDED\n\n\nIn the earlier years of his reign King Leopold of Belgium began to display\nthat interest in Central Africa which for a long time was ascribed to\nnobility and philanthropy, until the contrast between such motives, and\nthe actual unscrupulous commercialism, became too glaring to be sustained.\nAs far back as the year 1876 he called a conference of humanitarians and\ntravellers, who met at Brussels for the purpose of debating various plans\nby which","naire companies, for the obvious reason that they have\nnotoriously abused their powers, then Belgium could go forward in its\ncolonizing enterprise on the same terms as other States, with her sins\nexpiated so far as expiation is now possible.\n\nShe did none of these things. For a year now she has herself persevered in\nthe evil ways of her predecessor. Her colony is a scandal before the whole\nworld. The era of murders and mutilations has, as we hope, passed by, but\nthe country is sunk into a state of cowed","the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\n\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 188",", first, Great Britain\nand the Congo State; secondly, Great Britain and Belgium. In each case\nGreat Britain was, indeed, the spokesman of the civilized world.\n\nSo far as one can trace, no strong protest was raised by the British\nGovernment at the time when the Congo State took the fatal step, the\ndirect cause of everything which has followed, of leaving the honest\npath, trodden up to that time by all European Colonies, and seizing the\nland of the country as their own. Only in 1896 do we find protests","\nthem, or it; and the ship can be confiscated without prejudice to any\nsubsequent proceedings.\"\n\nThe sight of these insignificant lieutenants and captains, who are often\nnon-commissioned officers of the Belgian army, issuing proclamations which\nwere in distinct contradiction to the expressed will of all the great\nPowers of the world, might at the time have seemed ludicrous; but the\nhistory of the next seventeen years was to prove that a small malignant\nforce, driven on by greed, may prove to"],[",\n the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured\n me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to\n a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.\"\n\nAgain I insert a passage to show that Casement was by no means an\nill-natured critic:\n\n \"It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R.\n Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult\n and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as","they have stood before the whole world\nas the defenders of that which will be described by the historian as the\ngreatest crime in history.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nTHE EVIDENCE UP TO DATE\n\n\nI shall now append some extracts from the reports of several British\nVice-Consuls and Consuls sent in during the last few years. These bear\nless upon outrages, which have admittedly greatly decreased, but mainly\nupon the general condition of the people, which is one of deplorable\npoverty and misery--a slavery without that","present in the town, who were not so bad as K K, but that\n he was a villain. As the evidence against him was perfectly clear, man\n after man standing out and declaring he had seen the act committed, I\n informed him and the people present that I should appeal to the local\n authorities for his immediate arrest and trial.\"\n\nThe following extract must be my final quotation from Consul Casement's\nreport:\n\n \"I asked then how this tax was imposed. One of them, who had been\n hammering out an iron neck-collar","the admissions of the Belgian\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by","this I passed on to the imprisonment of men, women\n and children. Following this I called attention to the destruction of\n the Baringa towns and the partial famine among the people in\n consequence. Also the large gangs of prisoners--men, women and\n children--imprisoned to carry out this work; the murder of two men\n whilst it was being done. Next followed the irregularities during\n 1903. The expedition conducted by an A.B.I.R. agent against\n Samb'ekota, and the arming continually of A","the men before me was getting\n into this state now.\"\n\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty's\nConsul conveyed to His Majesty's Government as to the condition of those\nnatives, who, \"in the name of Almighty God,\" we had pledged ourselves to\ndefend!\n\nThe same damning White Book contained a brief account of Lord Cromer's\nexperience upon the Upper Nile in the Lado district. He notes that for\neighty miles the side of the river which is","to the sinister character of the system. It\n consisted of a list showing that from 1st January to 1st August,\n 1905--that is to say, within a space of seven months--142 sentries of\n the Society had been killed or wounded by the natives. Now, it is to\n be assumed that in many cases these sentries had been attacked by the\n natives by way of revenge. One may judge by this of the number of\n bloody affrays to which their presence had given rise. ON THE OTHER\n HAND","saw an\noutrage. No doubt he had formed the opinion that his brethren had been\nexaggerating. Then one day he heard an outburst of firing, and turned his\nlittle steamer to the spot. This is what he saw: \"They were horrified to\nfind the native soldiers of the Government under the eyes of their white\nofficers engaged in mutilating the dead bodies of the natives who had just\nbeen killed. Three native bodies were lying near the river's edge and\nhuman limbs were lying within a few yards from the steamer. A","\nOne chief was seized by two white agents, one of whom held him while the\nother beat him. When they had finished they kicked him to make him get up,\nbut the man was dead. The Commission examined ten witnesses in their\ninvestigation of this story. The chief was Jonghi, the village Bogeka, the\ndate October, 1904.\n\nSuch is a fractional sample of the evidence which was laid before the\nCommission, corroborated by every detail of name, place and date which\ncould enforce conviction. There is no doubt that it did enforce","and of illegal fines and irregular taxes, etc., etc. The Commission\n endeavours to get through this slough of iniquity and river of blood,\n but finding it hopeless, asks how much longer I can go on. I tell them\n I can go on until they are satisfied that hundreds of murders have\n been committed by the A.B.I.R. in this district alone; murders of\n chiefs, men, women and little children, and that multitudes of\n witnesses only await my signal to appear by the thousand.\n\n \"","gave\nand that their condition has been more miserable than ever. The final\npractical result of the Commission was that upon the natives, and not upon\ntheir murderers, came the punishment.\n\nM. Malfeyt, a Royal High Commissioner, had been sent out on pretence of\nreform. How hollow was this pretence may be seen from the fact that at the\nsame time M. Wahis had been despatched as Governor-General in place of\nthat Constermann who had committed suicide after his interview with the\njudges of the Commission. Wah","and after this was set aside the natives had nothing\n but leaves to eat.\"\n\nAlso, that fines, which the Commission at once declared to be illegal,\nwere constantly levied on the people, and that these fines had continued\nafter the matter had been reported to the Governor-General. In spite of\nthis declaration of illegality, no steps were taken in the matter, and M.\nde Bauw, the chief offender, was by last accounts the supreme executive\nofficial of the district. At every turn one finds that there is no\nrelation at all between law","\nbe the greatest which has ever been known in human annals. Personally I am\nstrongly of that opinion. There have been great expropriations like that\nof the Normans in England or of the English in Ireland. There have been\nmassacres of populations like that of the South Americans by the Spaniards\nor of subject nations by the Turks. But never before has there been such a\nmixture of wholesale expropriation and wholesale massacre all done under\nan odious guise of philanthropy and with the lowest commercial motives as\na reason. It is this",": and one cannot wonder that they should be\nrare, seeing the nature of the bonds, and the helplessness in which an\nofficial is placed who does not carry out the full desires of his\nsuperiors. But he had only succeeded in getting himself into trouble with\nthe district commander in consequence. He showed Mr. Scrivener a letter\nfrom the latter upbraiding him for not using more vigorous means, telling\nhim to talk less and shoot more, and reprimanding him for not killing more\nthan one man in a district under his care where there was a little\ntrouble.",".\"\n\nThat last sentence seems the crown of the arch. If the agents on the spot\ndid not attempt before the Commission to deny the outrages who shall\nventure to do it in their name?\n\nThe remainder of the Report, though stuffed with courtly platitudes and\nwith vague recommendations of reform which are absolutely unpractical, so\nlong as the root causes of all the trouble remain undisturbed, contains a\nfew positive passages which are worth preserving. Talking of the want of\ndefinite instructions to military expeditions, it says:\n\n \"The","strong then pointed out to the Public Prosecutor in good,\nstraight terms, which his official superiors might well imitate, that the\nmatter had gone far enough, that English patience was almost exhausted,\nand that Mr. Stannard should be baited no longer. The case was dropped.\n\nI shall pass straight on now to the most recent reports received from the\nCongo, to show that there is no difference at all in the general\ncondition, so far as it is reported by the impartial men at the spot, save\nthat the actual killings and maimings have","President, who had listened, to his honour be it\nspoken, with tears running down his cheeks to some of the evidence, cried\nout in amazement and disgust. \"There is one document I would put in,\" said\nthe agent. \"It is to show that 142 of my sentinels were slain by the\nvillagers in the course of seven months.\" \"Surely that makes the matter\nworse!\" cried the sagacious judge. \"If these well-armed men were slain by\nthe defenceless villagers, how terrible must the wrongs have been which\n","who acquiesced\nin it by their silence), I have marshalled witnesses in their successive\norder. Messrs. Glave, Murphy and Sjoblom have covered the time from 1894\nto 1897; Mr. Clark has carried it on to 1900; we have had the deeds of\n1901-4 as revealed in the Boma Law Courts. I shall now give the experience\nof Rev. Mr. Scrivener, an English missionary, who in July, August and\nSeptember, 1903","\n to.\"\n\nAs he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent\npeace, his comments become more bitter. The nascent rubber trade began to\nintrude its methods upon his notice:\n\n \"Formerly the natives were well treated, but now expeditions have been\n sent in every direction, forcing natives to make rubber and to bring\n it to the stations. Up the Ikelemba, we are taking down one hundred\n slaves, mere children, all taken in unholy wars against the\n natives.... It was","AS.\n ONE OF THEM SHOWED 120 MURDERS IN HIS VILLAGE COMMITTED DURING THE\n LAST FEW YEARS. Whatever one may think of the confidence with which\n this native form of book-keeping may inspire one, a document handed to\n the Commission by the Director of the A.B.I.R. does not allow any\n doubt to remain as to the sinister character of the system. It\n consisted of a list showing that from 1st January to 1st August,\n 1"],["the admissions of the Belgian\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by","His\n Majesty's Government to confer with the other Powers, signatories of\n the Berlin General Act, by virtue of which the Congo Free State\n exists, in order that measures may be adopted to abate the evils\n prevalent in that State.\"\n\nIn July of the same year there occurred the famous three days' debate in\nthe Belgian House, which was really inaugurated by the British resolution.\nIn this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all","fond of advancing will find it hard to reconcile the difference. Lord\nCromer ends his report:\n\n \"It appears to me that the facts which I have stated above afford\n amply sufficient evidence of the spirit which animates the Belgian\n Administration, if, indeed, Administration it can be called. The\n Government, so far as I could judge, is conducted almost exclusively\n on commercial principles, and, even judged by that standard, it would\n appear that those principles are somewhat short-sighted.\"\n\nIn the same White Book which contains these documents","held by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles, it is an insult to\ncommon sense to suppose that the responsibility for the Congo has not\nalways rested with Belgium. The Belgian machinery was always ready to help\nand defend the State, but never to hold it in control and restrain it from\ncrime.\n\nOne chance Belgium had. If immediately upon taking over the State they had\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\nwith power to punish for all","this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all the honours\nof war. M. de Favereau, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, alternately\nexplained that there was no connection at all between Belgium and the\nCongo State, and that it was a breach of Belgian patriotism to attack the\nlatter. The policy of the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which","the palisades in the\n form of a cross.\"\n\nIn the face of these fresh revelations there was an outburst of feeling in\nBelgium, showing that it is only their ignorance of the true facts which\nprevents the inhabitants of that country from showing the same humanity as\nany other civilized nation would do. They have not yet realized the foul\nthings which have been done in their name. Surely when they do realize it\nthere will be a terrible reckoning! Some were already very alive to the\nquestion. MM. Vandervelde and Lorand fought br","the definite accusations of Consul\nCasement, was a demand both in Belgium and in England for an official\ninquiry. Lord Landsdowne stipulated that this inquiry should be impartial\nand thorough. It was also suggested by the British Government that it\nshould be international in character, and separated from the local\nadministration. Very grudgingly and under constant pressure the King\nappointed a Commission, but whittled down its powers to such a point that\nits proceedings must lose all utility. Such were the terms that they\nprovoked remonstrance from men like","and M.\nVandervelde, the fearless Belgian advocate of liberty, has set forth to\nact for the accused. What M. Labori was to Dreyfus, M. Vandervelde has\nbeen to the Congo, save that it is a whole nation who are his clients. He\nand his noble comrade, Mr. Lorand, are the two men who redeem the record\nof infamy which must long darken the good name of Belgium.\n\nI will now deal swiftly with the records of evil deeds which have occurred\nsince the time which I","o State of\nwhich these particular companies are merely an outcome. Until it is swept\nfrom the map there is no hope for the country. You cannot avoid the rank\nproducts while the putridity remains.\n\nThe next document bearing upon the question is from the Rev. H. M.\nWhiteside, from the notorious A.B.I.R. district. I give it in full, that\nthe reader may judge for himself how far the direct Belgian rule has\naltered the situation.\n\n \"I should like to bring to your notice a few facts regarding the\n condition"," '_contrainte par corps_' (bodily detention) during the month has to be\n furnished in duplicate, the book signed, and one of the copies\n transmitted to the Government.\"\n\nWhilst these organized outrages were continuing in the Congo, King\nLeopold, at Belgium, had taken a fresh step, which, in its cynical\ndisregard for any attempt at consistency, surpassed any of his previous\nperformances. Feeling that something must be done in the face of the\nfinding of his own delegates, he appointed a","If immediately upon taking over the State they had\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\nwith power to punish for all past offences, and to examine all the\nscandals of recent years, then they would have done something to clear the\npast. If on the top of that they had freed the land, given up the system\nof forced labour entirely, and cancelled the charters of all the\nconcessionnaire companies, for the obvious reason that they have\nnotoriously abused their powers, then Belgium could go forward in its\ncolonizing enterprise on the",", therefore, since whatever happens must be\nfor the better.\n\nCan a solution be found through Belgium?\n\nNo, it is impossible, and that should be recognized from the outset. The\nBelgians have been given their chance. They have had nearly twenty-five\nyears of undisturbed possession, and they have made it a hell upon earth.\nThey cannot disassociate themselves from this work or pretend that it was\ndone by a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital,","had been held up as a step toward improvement. The\nBritish Government had been assured that his visit would be of a nature to\neffect all necessary reforms. On arriving in the country, however, he\nannounced that he had no power to act, and only came to see and hear. Thus\na few more months were gained before any change could be effected. The\nonly small consolation which we can draw from all this succession of\nimpotent ambassadors and reforming committees, which do not, and were\nnever intended to, reform, is that the game has","naire companies, for the obvious reason that they have\nnotoriously abused their powers, then Belgium could go forward in its\ncolonizing enterprise on the same terms as other States, with her sins\nexpiated so far as expiation is now possible.\n\nShe did none of these things. For a year now she has herself persevered in\nthe evil ways of her predecessor. Her colony is a scandal before the whole\nworld. The era of murders and mutilations has, as we hope, passed by, but\nthe country is sunk into a state of cowed","and sufferings.\"\n\nThe action was taken for criminal libel by M. Hagstrom against Mr.\nStannard, for saying that this evidence had been given before the\nCommission. Of course, the only way to establish the fact was a reference\nto the evidence itself which lay at Brussels. But as Hagstrom was only a\npuppet of the higher Government of the Congo (which means the King\nhimself), in their attempt to revenge themselves upon the missionaries it\nwas not very likely that official documents would be produced for the mere\npurpose of serving","Grey declared that we\n\"could not wait forever,\" and yet we see that he is waiting still. In 1908\nthe long looked-for annexation came at last, and the Congo State exchanged\nthe blue flag with the golden star for the tricolour of Belgium. Immediate\nand radical reforms were promised, but the matter ended as all previous\npromises have done. In 1909 M. Renkin, the Belgian Colonial Minister, went\nout to inspect the Congo State, and had the frankness before going to say\nthat nothing would be","Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\nof Consul Casement. This document, circulated officially all over the\nglobe, must have opened the eyes of the nations, if any were still shut,\nto the true object and development of King Leopold's enterprise. It was\nhoped that this action upon the part of Great Britain would be the first\nstep toward intervention, and, indeed, Lord Lansdowne made it clear in so\nmany words that our hand was outstretched, and that if any","nation's spirit. We have all\nfailed at times. But never has there been failure so hopeless, so\nshocking, bearing such consequences to the world, such degradation to the\ngood name of Christianity and civilization as the failure of the Belgians\nin the Congo.\n\nAnd all this has happened and all this has been tolerated in an age of\nprogress. The greatest, deepest, most wide-reaching crime of which there\nis any record, has been reserved for these latter years. Some excuse there\nis for racial extermination where, as with Saxons and","the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\n\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 188","patched as Governor-General in place of\nthat Constermann who had committed suicide after his interview with the\njudges of the Commission. Wahis had already served two terms as Governor,\nand it was under his administration that all the abuses the Commission had\ncondemned had actually grown up. Could King Leopold have shown more\nclearly how far any real reform was from his mind?\n\nM. Malfeyt's visit had been held up as a step toward improvement. The\nBritish Government had been assured that his visit would be of a nature to\neffect all necessary"],["a grand\nsight to see the banner of humanity and civilization carried forward in\nsuch a cause by the two great English-speaking nations.\n\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nI am convinced that the reason why public opinion has not been more\nsensitive upon the question of the Congo Free State, is that the terrible\nstory has not been brought thoroughly home to the people. Mr. E. D. Morel\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\nstruggled hard with very"," GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIME OF THE CONGO ***\n\n\n\n\nProduced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE CRIME OF THE CONGO\n\n\n\n\n The Crime of the Congo\n\n\n By A. Conan Doyle\n\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc","ceived by the general public from the Congo Free State concerned the\nfounding of new stations, and the idea prevailed that King Leopold's\nenterprise was indeed working out upon the humanitarian lines which had\nbeen originally planned. Then, for the first time, incidents occurred\nwhich gave some glimpse of the violence and anarchy which really\nprevailed.\n\nThe first of these, so far as Great Britain is concerned, lay in the\ntreatment of natives from Sierra Leone, Lagos, and other British\nSettlements, who had been engaged by the Belgians to","Mr. E. D. Morel\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\nstruggled hard with very scanty means; but their time and energies have,\nfor the most part, been absorbed in dealing with each fresh phase of the\nsituation as it arose. There is room, therefore, as it seemed to me, for a\ngeneral account which would cover the whole field and bring the matter up\nto date. This account must necessarily be a superficial one, if it is to\nbe produced at such a size and such a price,","without their consent as soldiers, and of their having been\ncruelly flogged, and, in some cases, shot; and he added: \"They were\nengaged with the knowledge of Her Majesty's representatives, and every\npossible precaution was taken in their interests; but, in consequence of\nthe complaints received, the recruitment of labourers for the Congo has\nbeen prohibited.\"\n\nThis refusal of the recruitment of labourers by Great Britain was the\nfirst public and national sign of disapproval of Congolese methods. A few\nyears later,","great wastage of the people has\noccurred where the Congo rule has pressed heavily upon them.\n\nSo I bring my task to an end.\n\nI look at my statement of the facts and I wince at its many faults of\nomission. How many specific examples have I left out, how many deductions\nhave I missed, how many fresh sides to the matter have I neglected. It is\nhurried and broken, as a man's speech may be hurried and broken when he is\ndriven to it by a sense of burning injustice and intolerable","possible.\"\n\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\n\n \"Everywhere,\" he said, \"I hear the same news of the doings of the\n Congo Free State--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. It is\n said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... In Europe we\n understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\"\n\nOn","ment of labourers by Great Britain was the\nfirst public and national sign of disapproval of Congolese methods. A few\nyears later, a more pointed one was given, when the Italian War Ministry\nrefused to allow their officers to serve with the Congo forces.\n\nEarly in 1895 occurred the Stokes affair, which moved public opinion\ndeeply, both in this country and in Germany. Charles Henry Stokes was an\nEnglishman by birth, but he resided in German East Africa, was the\nrecipient of a German Decoration for his services on behalf","strong then pointed out to the Public Prosecutor in good,\nstraight terms, which his official superiors might well imitate, that the\nmatter had gone far enough, that English patience was almost exhausted,\nand that Mr. Stannard should be baited no longer. The case was dropped.\n\nI shall pass straight on now to the most recent reports received from the\nCongo, to show that there is no difference at all in the general\ncondition, so far as it is reported by the impartial men at the spot, save\nthat the actual killings and maimings have","a pure\ngratuity.\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\nresponsible statesman! In 1885 a State is formed for the \"moral and\nmaterial improvement of the native races.\" In 1903 the native \"is not\nentitled to anything.\" The two phrases mark the beginning and the end of\nKing Leopold's journey.\n\nIn 1904 the British Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\nof Consul Casement.","that terrible things\nbegan to dawn upon him. Casement had travelled in 1887 in the Congo, and\nwas surprised to note the timidity of the natives. Soon he had his\nexplanation:\n\n \"At one of these village, S----, after confidence had been restored\n and the fugitives had been induced to come in from the surrounding\n forest, where they had hidden themselves, I saw women coming back,\n carrying their babies, their household utensils, and even the food\n they had hastily snatched up,","nation's spirit. We have all\nfailed at times. But never has there been failure so hopeless, so\nshocking, bearing such consequences to the world, such degradation to the\ngood name of Christianity and civilization as the failure of the Belgians\nin the Congo.\n\nAnd all this has happened and all this has been tolerated in an age of\nprogress. The greatest, deepest, most wide-reaching crime of which there\nis any record, has been reserved for these latter years. Some excuse there\nis for racial extermination where, as with Saxons and","I am\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\n stay away.\"\n\n \"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\"\n\nIt is terrible to","97, a debate was raised on\nCongo affairs by Sir Charles Dilke without any definite result.\n\nOur own troubles in South Africa (troubles which called forth in Belgium a\nburst of indignation against wholly imaginary British outrages during the\nwar) left us little time to fulfil our Treaty obligations toward the\nnatives on the Congo. In 1903 the matter forced itself to the front again,\nand a considerable debate took place in the House of Commons, which ended\nby passing a resolution with almost complete unanimity to the following\n","Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\nof Consul Casement. This document, circulated officially all over the\nglobe, must have opened the eyes of the nations, if any were still shut,\nto the true object and development of King Leopold's enterprise. It was\nhoped that this action upon the part of Great Britain would be the first\nstep toward intervention, and, indeed, Lord Lansdowne made it clear in so\nmany words that our hand was outstretched, and that if any",", what a vast cry\nwould have reached the heavens. In the Congo hell the most lurid glow is\nto be found in the Royal Domain. And the money dragged from these tortured\npeople is used in turn to corrupt newspapers and public men--that it may\nbe possible to continue the system. So the devil's wheel goes round and\nround! Here are some extracts from Mr. Murdoch's report:\n\n \"I remarked to the old chief of the largest town I came across that\n his people seemed to be numerous. 'Ah,' said he, '","ged by that standard, it would\n appear that those principles are somewhat short-sighted.\"\n\nIn the same White Book which contains these documents there is printed the\nCongolese defence drawn up by M. de Cuvelier. The defence consists in\nsimply ignoring all the definite facts laid before the public, and in\nmaking such statements as that the British have themselves made war upon\nnatives, as if there were no distinction between war and massacre, and\nthat the British have put a poll-tax upon natives, which, if it be\nreasonable in amount, is"," The Crime of the Congo\n\n\n By A. Conan Doyle\n\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc.\n\n\n New York\n Doubleday, Page & Company\n Mcmix\n\n\n\n\n ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION\n INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN\n\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, ","But, on the other hand, if trade\nbe put upon this natural basis, then for many years the present owners of\nthe Congo land, instead of sharing dividends, must pay out at least a\nmillion a year to administer the country, exactly as England pays half a\nmillion a year to administer the neighbouring land of Nigeria. To grasp\nthat fact is to understand the root of the whole question.\n\nAnd one more point before we proceed to the dark catalogue of the facts.\nWhere did the responsibility for these deeds of blood, these thousands of\ncold-blooded mur","\n\n \"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\n consent and just compensation.\"\n\nAgain:\n\n \"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\"\n\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\n\n \"Humanity, whose cause we plead"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"aside, and acted himself as torturer and executioner. As\\na rule, however, the relationship was as I have stated, the outrages being\\nactually committed by the capitas, but with the approval of, and often in\\nthe presence of, their white employers.\\n\\nIt would be absurd to suppose that the agents were all equally merciless,\\nand that there were not some who were torn in two by the desire for wealth\\nand promotion on the one side and the horror of their daily task upon the\\nother. Here are two illustrative extracts from the letters of Lieutenant\\nTil\",\n \"\\n \\\"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\\n into this state now.\\\"\\n\\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty\",\n \"ner's time, and stated that no\\n village in this district had escaped murders under this man's\\n _régime_.\\n\\n \\\"Next we dealt with irregularities common to all agents, calling\\n attention to and proving by specific instances the public floggings of\\n practically any and every one; quoting, for instance, seeing with my\\n own eyes six Ngombe men receive one hundred strokes each, delivered\\n simultaneously by two sentries.\\n\\n \\\"Next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men,\\n \",\n \"natives of a\\ncertain village which had been slow in bringing its rubber. He had carried\\nout the order. Later, his chief had put sixty women in irons, and allowed\\nnearly all of them to die of hunger because the village--Mummumbula--had\\nnot brought enough rubber. \\\"I am going to be tried,\\\" he wrote, \\\"for having\\nmurdered one hundred and fifty men, for having crucified women and\\nchildren, and for having mutilated many men and hung the remains on the\\nvillage fence.\\\" At the same moment as this confession\",\n \"skin of the wretched victims who, although strongly\\nbuilt, gasp in terrible contortions.\\n\\n\\\"Often the blood trickles, more rarely fainting ensues. Regularly and\\nwithout cessation the chicotte winds round the flesh of these martyrs of\\nthe most relentless and loathsome tyrants who have ever disgraced\\nhumanity. At the first blows the unhappy victims utter terrible shrieks\\nwhich soon die down to low groans. In addition, when the officer who\\norders the punishment is in a bad humour, he k\",\n \"meted out to them, the flogging of rubber collectors, the\\n brutality of the black employés set over the prisoners, were the rule\\n commonly followed.\\\"\\n\\nThen follows an illuminative passage about the sentries, capitas or\\n\\\"forest guards,\\\" or messengers, as they are alternatively called. It is a\\nwonder that they were not called hospital orderlies in the efforts to make\\nthem seem inoffensive. What they actually were was, as we have seen, some\\ntwenty thousand cannibals armed with Albini repeating\",\n \"of men, women and\\nchildren killed by the sentries of a M. Pilaet.\\n\\n \\\"Last year,\\\" he says, \\\"or the year before, the young woman, Imenega,\\n was tied to a forked tree and chopped in half with a hatchet,\\n beginning at the left shoulder, chopping down through the chest and\\n abdomen and out at the side.\\\" Again, with every detail of name and\\n place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been\\n enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and\",\n \"its are specially\\ninvited.\\n\\n\\\"The chief of the post points out the victims; they leave the ranks and\\ncome forward, for at the least attempt at flight they would be brutally\\nseized by the soldiers, struck in the face by the representative of the\\nFree State and the punishment would be doubled. Trembling and terrified,\\nthey stretch themselves face down before the captain and his colleagues;\\ntwo of their companions, sometimes four, seize them by their hands and\\nfeet and take off their waistcloth. Then, armed with a lash of\\nhippopotam\",\n \"be mutilated like that, and those parts of you carried to him?'\\n\\n \\\"P P, O O, and all (shouting): 'Yes! many white men. D E did it.'\\n\\n \\\"_Q._ 'You say this is true? Were many of you so treated after being\\n shot?'\\n\\n \\\"All (shouting out): 'Nkoto! Nkoto!' (Very many! Very many!)\\n\\n \\\"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not\",\n \"Monsieur Stanislas Lefranc, Judge on the Congo, and one of the few men\\nwhose humanity seems to have survived such an experience, says:\\n\\n\\\"Every day, at six in the morning and two in the afternoon, at each State\\npost can be seen, to-day, as five or even ten years ago, the savoury sight\\nwhich I am going to try to depict, and to which new recruits are specially\\ninvited.\\n\\n\\\"The chief of the post points out the victims; they leave the ranks and\\ncome forward, for at\",\n \"asked by the rubber agent if he would bring\\n in rubber now. He replied that he would. Although a chief of\\n considerable standing, he has been flogged, imprisoned, tied by the\\n neck with men who were regarded as slaves, made to do the most menial\\n work, and his beard, which was of many years' growth, and reached\\n almost to the ground, was cut off by the rubber agent because he\\n visited another town.\\\"\\n\\nLontulu was cross-examined by the Commission and his evidence was not\\nshaken. Here are some of\",\n \"ain\\\" are obtained. He says:\\n\\n \\\"Everything was on a military basis, but, so far as I could see, the\\n one and only reason for it all was rubber. It was the theme of every\\n conversation, and it was evident that the only way to please one's\\n superiors was to increase the output somehow. I saw a few men come in,\\n and the frightened look even now on their faces tells only too\\n eloquently of the awful time they have passed through. As I saw it\\n brought in, each man had a little basket\",\n \"on a fire to smoke before being\\n sent to the Commissary.\\\"\\n\\nHere we get the system at its highest. I think that picture of the child\\nhacking off the hand of the dying man at the order of the monster who\\nwould have assuredly murdered him also had he hesitated to obey, is as\\ndiabolical a one as even the Congo could show. A pretty commentary upon\\nthe doctrine of Christ which the missionary was there to preach!\\n\\nMr. Sjoblom seems to have been unable to believe at first that such deeds\\nwere done with the\",\n \" order to force the natives to furnish them with produce and to work\\n for the Company, as also to pursue as rebels and outlaws those who\\n sought to escape from the requisitions imposed upon them.... That,\\n above all, the fact that the arrest of women and their detention, to\\n compel the villages to furnish both produce and workmen, was tolerated\\n and admitted even by certain of the administrative authorities of the\\n region.\\\"\\n\\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\\n\\n \\\"In the morning, when about\",\n \"Lothaire, in similar circumstances, was allowed to slip\\nfrom the country. An insignificant agent may be occasionally made an\\nexample of, but to punish the local manager of a great company would be to\\nlessen the output of rubber, and what are morality and justice compared to\\nthat?\\n\\nWhy should one continue with the testimony given before the Commission?\\nTheir wanderings covered a little space of the country and were confined\\nto the main river, but everywhere they elicited the same tale of slavery,\\nmutilation, and murder. What Scrivener and\",\n \"and\\nchildren, and for having mutilated many men and hung the remains on the\\nvillage fence.\\\" At the same moment as this confession of Lacroix, _Le\\nPetit Bleu_ published sworn affidavits of soldiers employed by the Trust,\\ntelling how they had put to death whole villages for being short with\\ntheir rubber. Moray, another agent, published a confession in _Le Petit\\nBleu_, from which this is an extract:\\n\\n \\\"At Ambas we were a party of thirty, under Van Eycken, who\",\n \"dying he had given him\\nthe charge of two infant brothers and enjoined him to guard them tenderly.\\nHe had cared for them until he had been compelled at last to go himself\\ninto the forest to gather the rubber. One week their quantity had been\\nshort. When he returned from the wood the village had been raided in his\\nabsence, and he found his two little brothers lying disembowelled across a\\nlog. The company, however, paid 200 per cent.\\n\\nFour natives had been tortured until they cried out for some one to bring\\na gun and\",\n \"beat them, mutilated them, and shot them\\ndown at his pleasure. He enforced public incest in order to amuse himself\\nby the sight. Sometimes they plucked up spirit and killed him. The Belgian\\nCommission records that 142 capitas had been killed in seven months in a\\nsingle district. Then came the punitive expedition, and the destruction of\\nthe whole community. The more terror the capita inspired, the more useful\\nhe was, the more eagerly the villagers obeyed him, and the more rubber\\nyielded its commission to the agent. When the\",\n \"\\n\\nFurther on he says:\\n\\n \\\"Every village had been burned to the ground, and as I fled from the\\n country I saw skeletons, skeletons everywhere. And such postures! What\\n tales of horror they told.\\\"\\n\\nJust a word in conclusion from another witness, Mr. Herbert Frost:\\n\\n \\\"The power of an armed soldier among enslaved people is absolutely\\n paramount. By chief or child, every command, wish, or whim of the\\n soldier must be obeyed or gratified. At his command with rifle ready a\",\n \",\\n the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured\\n me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to\\n a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.\\\"\\n\\nAgain I insert a passage to show that Casement was by no means an\\nill-natured critic:\\n\\n \\\"It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R.\\n Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult\\n and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as\"\n ],\n [\n \"what had been but recently the condition of the\\n place.... Soon we began talking, and, without any encouragement on my\\n part, they began the tales I had become so accustomed to. They were\\n living in peace and quietness when the white men came in from the Lake\\n with all sorts of requests to do this and to do that, and they thought\\n it meant slavery. So they attempted to keep the white men out of their\\n country, but without avail. The rifles were too much for them. So they\\n submitted, and made up their minds to do\",\n \"\\\"one coat of red cloth with gold\\nfacings, one red cap, one white tunic, one piece of white baft, one piece\\nof red points, one box of liqueurs, four demijohns of rum, two boxes of\\ngin, 128 bottles of gin, twenty red handkerchiefs, forty singlets and\\nforty old cotton caps.\\\" It is clear that in making such treaties the Chief\\nthought that he was giving permission for the establishment of a station.\\nThe idea that he was actually bartering away the land was never even in\\nhis\",\n \"\\n fact that the basin of the Ikelemba was supposed to be free-trade\\n territory also, but that everywhere the people of the various\\n districts were compelled to serve the companies of these respective\\n districts, in rubber, gum copal or food. At one out-of-the-way place\\n where we were on the south bank, two men arrived just as we were\\n leaving, with their bodies covered with marks of the chicotte, which\\n they had just received from the trader of Bosci because their quantity\\n had been short.\",\n \"named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.\\\"\\n\\nThe natives were broken in spirit by the treatment:\\n\\n \\\"One of them--a strong, indeed, a splendid-looking man--broke down and\\n wept, saying that their lives were useless to them, and that they knew\\n of no means of escape from the troubles which were gathering around\\n them. I could only assure these people that their obvious course to\\n obtain relief was by appeal to their own constituted authorities, and\\n that if their circumstances\",\n \"villages and gardens. It\\ndecrees that all the products of this immense region are its private\\nproperty, and it monopolizes the trade in them. As regards the primitive\\nproprietors, the native tribes, they are dispossessed by a simple\\ncircular; permission is graciously granted to them to collect such\\nproducts, but only on condition that they bring them for sale to the State\\nfor whatever the latter may be pleased to give them. As regards alien\\ntraders, they are prohibited in all this territory from trading with the\\nnatives.\\\"\\n\\nEverywhere there were stern orders\",\n \"Stanley Pool to Upoto, a distance of 6,000 miles,\\n they knew every landing-place on the river banks. All the ups and\\n downs of savage life, all the profits and losses derived from barter,\\n all the diplomatic arts used by tactful savages, were as well known to\\n them as the Roman alphabet to us.... No wonder that all this\\n commercial knowledge had left its traces on their faces; indeed, it is\\n the same as in your own cities in Europe. Know you not the military\\n man among you,\",\n \"save the actual site of their villages, and\\nthe scanty fields of grain or manioc which surround them. Everywhere\\nbeyond these tiny patches extend the plains and forests which have been\\nthe ancestral wandering places of the natives, and which contain the\\nrubber, the camwood, the copal, the ivory, and the skins which are the\\nsole objects of their commerce. At a single stroke of a pen in Brussels\\neverything was taken from them, not only the country, but the produce of\\nthe country. How could they trade when the State had taken\",\n \"sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods\\n to meet their share of the fine. A widow came and declared that she\\n had been forced, in order to meet her share of the fine, to sell her\\n daughter G, a little girl whom I judged from her description to be\\n about ten years of age. She had been sold to a man in Y----, who was\\n named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.\\\"\\n\\nThe natives were broken in spirit by\",\n \"days of our mutual intercourse they gave us a high\\n idea of their qualities--industry, after their own style, not being\\n the least conspicuous.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"As in the old time, Umangi, from the right bank, and Mpa, from the\\n left bank, despatched their representatives with ivory tusks, large\\n and small, goats and sheep, and vegetable food, clamorously demanding\\n that we should buy from them. Such urgent entreaties, accompanied with\\n blandishments to purchase their stock, were\",\n \"is taken. Within my own knowledge forty-five villages were\\n altogether burned down. I say altogether, because there were many\\n others partly burned down. I passed through twenty-eight abandoned\\n villages. The natives had left their places to go further inland. In\\n order to separate themselves from the white men they go part of the\\n way down the river, or else they cross the river into French\\n territory. Sometimes, the natives are obliged to pay a large\\n indemnity. The chiefs often have to pay with brass wire and slaves,\\n and if\",\n \"for the profit of the State, those very products which had been\\ntaken from them. This was to be effected by two means; the one, taxation,\\nby which an arbitrary amount, ever growing larger until it consumed almost\\ntheir whole lives in the gathering, should be claimed for nothing. The\\nother, so-called barter by which the natives were paid for the stuff\\nexactly what the State chose to give, and in the form the State chose to\\ngive it, there being no competition allowed from any other purchaser. This\\nremuneration, ridiculous in value,\",\n \"ability. The following extracts from his writings set this matter beyond\\nall doubt:\\n\\n \\\"Bolobo is a great centre for the ivory and camwood powder trade,\\n principally because its people are so enterprising.\\\"\\n\\nOf Irebu--\\\"a Venice of the Congo\\\"--he says:\\n\\n \\\"These people were really acquainted with many lands and tribes on the\\n Upper Congo. From Stanley Pool to Upoto, a distance of 6,000 miles,\\n they knew every landing-place on the river banks. All the\",\n \"of the women have babies, but they go\\n to work just the same. They form, indeed, a miserable spectacle, and\\n one wonders that old women, although prisoners of war, should not\\n receive a little more consideration; at least, their nakedness might\\n be hidden. The men prisoners are treated in a far better way.\\\"\\n\\nDescribing the natives he says:\\n\\n \\\"The natives are not lazy, good-for-nothing fellows. Their fine powers\\n are obtained by hard work, sobriety and frugal living.\\\"\\n\\nHe\",\n \"their\\n country, but without avail. The rifles were too much for them. So they\\n submitted, and made up their minds to do the best they could under the\\n altered circumstances. First came the command to build houses for the\\n soldiers, and this was done without a murmur. Then they had to feed\\n the soldiers, and all the men and women--hangers-on--who accompanied\\n them.\\n\\n \\\"Then they were told to bring in rubber. This was quite a new thing\\n for them to do. There was rubber in the forest several days away\",\n \"traces on their faces; indeed, it is\\n the same as in your own cities in Europe. Know you not the military\\n man among you, the lawyer and the merchant, the banker, the artist, or\\n the poet? It is the same in Africa, MORE ESPECIALLY ON THE CONGO,\\n WHERE THE PEOPLE ARE SO DEVOTED TO TRADE.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"During the few days of our mutual intercourse they gave us a high\\n idea of their qualities--industry, after their own style, not being\\n the least\",\n \"covered with marks of the chicotte, which\\n they had just received from the trader of Bosci because their quantity\\n had been short. I said to the Commissaire, given favourable\\n conditions, particularly freedom, there would soon be a large\\n population in these interior towns, the Ngombe and Mongo.\\\"\\n\\nIn answer to questions the following facts were solicited:\\n\\n \\\"_Unsettled condition of the people._ The older people never seem to\\n have confidence to build their houses substantially. If they have any\\n suspicion of the approach of a\",\n \"est abuses.\\n\\n \\\"There is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a\\n totally inadequate wage. In visiting the various rubber-working towns,\\n one would expect to see some signs of European commodities that had\\n been given in exchange for the millions of pounds' worth of rubber\\n that has been extracted from them, but the native residents possess\\n actually nothing at all.\\n\\n \\\"_Their conditions of living are deplorable_, and the filth and\\n squalor of their villages is only too apparent. _The people live in\",\n \"They are not a warlike people, and I could hear of no single attempt\\n at resistance. They are the kind of people the State soldiers are most\\n successful with. They would rather any day run away than fight. And in\\n fact, they have nothing to fight with except a few bows and arrows. I\\n have been trying to reckon the probable number of people I met with. I\\n should say that five thousand is, if anything, beyond the mark. A few\\n years ago the population of the district I passed through must have\\n been four times that number. On\",\n \"had,\\n many of them, been compelled to sell their children and their wives. I\\n saw no live-stock of any kind in W---- save a very few fowls--possibly\\n under a dozen--and it seemed, indeed, not unlikely that, as these\\n people asserted, they had great difficulty in always getting their\\n supplies ready. A father and mother stepped out and said that they had\\n been forced to sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods\\n to meet their share of the fine. A widow\",\n \"journeys, when I had gone a little farther,\\n perhaps, than the Commissary expected me to go, I saw something that\\n perhaps he would not have liked me to see. It was at a town called\\n Ibera, one of the cannibal towns to which no white man had ever been\\n before. I reached it at sunset, after the natives had returned from\\n the various places in which they had been looking for india-rubber.\\n They gathered together in a great crowd, being curious to see a white\\n man. Besides, they\"\n ],\n [\n \",\\n the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured\\n me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to\\n a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.\\\"\\n\\nAgain I insert a passage to show that Casement was by no means an\\nill-natured critic:\\n\\n \\\"It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R.\\n Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult\\n and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as\",\n \"never\\npublished at all, in spite of an informal assurance to Lord Lansdowne that\\nnothing would be held back. Only the conclusions saw the light, without\\nthe document upon which they were founded.\\n\\nThe effect of that Report, when stripped of its courtly phrases, was an\\nabsolute confirmation of all that had been said by so many witnesses\\nduring so many years. It is easy to blame the Commissioners for not having\\nthe full courage of their convictions, but their position was full of\\ndifficulty. The Report was really a personal one. The State was,\",\n \"without the authority of the\\n Governor-General.\\\"\\n\\nAnd, finally, his reasons for writing his book:\\n\\n \\\"The contemplation of an immeasurable misery has caused us to publish\\n this book. The gravity of the evil, its roots causes, had long escaped\\n us. When we knew them we could not retain within ourselves the\\n compassion with which we were imbued, and we resolved to tell the\\n citizens of a generous country, appealing to their religion, to their\\n patriotism, to their hearts.\\\"\\n\\nSurely after such evidence from such\",\n \"\\n \\\"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\\n into this state now.\\\"\\n\\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty\",\n \"establishment.\\\"\\n\\nThese are not the words of a critic who has started with a prejudiced mind\\nor the desire to make out a case.\\n\\nIn the lower reaches of the river above Stanley Pool Casement found no\\ngross ill-usage. The natives were hopeless and listless, being debarred\\nfrom trade and heavily taxed in food, fish and other produce. It was not\\nuntil he began to approach the cursed rubber zones that terrible things\\nbegan to dawn upon him. Casement had travelled in 1887 in the Congo, and\\nwas surprised\",\n \"broken, as a man's speech may be hurried and broken when he is\\ndriven to it by a sense of burning injustice and intolerable wrong. But it\\nis true--and I defy any man to read it without rising with the conviction\\nof its truth. Consider the cloud of witnesses. Consider the minute and\\nspecific detail in the evidence. Consider the undenied system which must\\n_prima facie_ produce such results. Consider the admissions of the Belgian\\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\\nthat the accusations of the\",\n \"ed\\n on women and children. Small boys of ten or twelve, with excitable,\\n hot-tempered masters, often are most harshly treated. At Kasnogo there\\n is a great deal of cruelty displayed. I saw two boys very badly cut. I\\n conscientiously believe that a man who receives one hundred blows is\\n often nearly killed, and has his spirit broken for life.\\\"\\n\\nHe has a glimpse of the treatment of the subjects of other nations:\\n\\n \\\"Two days before my arrival (at Wabundu) two Sierra Leoneans\",\n \"own throat. The fact may,\\nperhaps, give some indication of how the judges felt when the stories were\\nstill fresh in their minds, and their nerves wincing under the horror of\\nthe evidence.\\n\\nA whole year elapsed between the starting of the Commission and the\\npresentation of their Report, which was published upon October 31st, 1905.\\nThe evidence which would have stirred Europe to its foundations was never\\npublished at all, in spite of an informal assurance to Lord Lansdowne that\\nnothing would be held back. Only the\",\n \"of my men to see, and they\\n brought back a little girl whose right hand had been cut off, and she\\n left to die from the wound. The child had no other wound. As I was\\n going to see Dr. Reusens about my own sickness I took the child to\\n him, and he has cut the arm and made it right and I think she will\\n live. But I think such awful cruelty should be punished.\\\"\\n\\nMr. Clark still clung to the hope that King Leopold did not know of the\\nresults of his own system. On March\",\n \"highly improbable that the natives will ever\\n report irregularities. I then pointed out that we firmly believe that\\n but for us these irregularities would never have come to light.\\n\\n \\\"Following on this the difficulties to be faced by missionaries were\\n dealt with, pointing out that the A.B.I.R. can and do impose on us all\\n sorts of restrictions if we dare to speak a word about their\\n irregularities. I then quoted a few of the many instances which found\\n their climax in Mrs. Harris and I almost losing\",\n \"a grand\\nsight to see the banner of humanity and civilization carried forward in\\nsuch a cause by the two great English-speaking nations.\\n\\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nINTRODUCTION\\n\\n\\nI am convinced that the reason why public opinion has not been more\\nsensitive upon the question of the Congo Free State, is that the terrible\\nstory has not been brought thoroughly home to the people. Mr. E. D. Morel\\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\\nstruggled hard with very\",\n \"wife that their white man\\n did not want them to bring infants to their place. They dragged the\\n women off and left the infant beside us, but we sent the child to its\\n mother, and said we would report the matter to the chief of the post.\\n We did so, but the men were not punished. The principal offender was\\n told before me he would get fifty lashes, but I heard the same mouth\\n send a message to say he would not be flogged.\\\"\\n\\nCompare with this the following extracts from King Leopold's _Offic\",\n \"France, were\\nit not for the French Congo) can claim that their system works as strongly\\nagainst outrage as the Belgian one does in favour of it. These things are\\nnot, as the Commissioners seemed to think, necessary evils, which are\\ntolerated elsewhere. How can their raw opinion weigh for a moment upon\\nsuch a point when it is counterbalanced by the words of such Reformers as\\nSir Harry Johnston or Lord Cromer? The fact is that the running of a\\ntropical colony is, of all tests, the most searching as to the\\ndevelop\",\n \"were, with the exception of a guarded document from\\nConsul Pickersgill, in 1898, entirely from private individuals. No doubt\\nthere were official reports but the Government withheld them. In 1904,\\nthis policy of reticence was abandoned, and the historic report of Consul\\nRoger Casement confirmed, and in some ways amplified, all that had reached\\nEurope from other sources.\\n\\nA word or two as to Mr. Casement's own personality and qualifications may\\nnot be amiss, since both were attacked by his Belgian\",\n \"strong then pointed out to the Public Prosecutor in good,\\nstraight terms, which his official superiors might well imitate, that the\\nmatter had gone far enough, that English patience was almost exhausted,\\nand that Mr. Stannard should be baited no longer. The case was dropped.\\n\\nI shall pass straight on now to the most recent reports received from the\\nCongo, to show that there is no difference at all in the general\\ncondition, so far as it is reported by the impartial men at the spot, save\\nthat the actual killings and maimings have\",\n \"only condones, but actually\\ncommands it by private circular. Again the gap which lies betwixt law and\\nfact where the interest of gain is concerned.\\n\\n \\\"It was barely denied,\\\" the Report continues, \\\"that in the various\\n posts of the A.B.I.R. which we visited, the imprisonment of women\\n hostages, the subjection of the chiefs to servile labour, the\\n humiliations meted out to them, the flogging of rubber collectors, the\\n brutality of the black employés set over the prisoners,\",\n \"present in the town, who were not so bad as K K, but that\\n he was a villain. As the evidence against him was perfectly clear, man\\n after man standing out and declaring he had seen the act committed, I\\n informed him and the people present that I should appeal to the local\\n authorities for his immediate arrest and trial.\\\"\\n\\nThe following extract must be my final quotation from Consul Casement's\\nreport:\\n\\n \\\"I asked then how this tax was imposed. One of them, who had been\\n hammering out an iron neck-collar\",\n \".\\\"\\n\\nWhat comment can be added to such evidence as this! It stands in its naked\\nhorror, and it is futile to try to make it more vivid. What can any of\\nthose English apologists of the Congo who have thrown a doubt upon the\\naccounts of outrages because in passing through a section of this huge\\ncountry upon a flying visit they had not happened to see them--what can\\nLord Mountmorris, Captain Boyd Alexander, or Mrs. French Sheldon say in\\nthe face of a mass of evidence with the actual mutilated limbs and\\n\",\n \"\\n insensibility after twenty-five or thirty blows. At the first blow he\\n yells abominably; then he quiets down, and is a mere groaning,\\n quivering body till the operation is over, when the culprit stumbles\\n away, often with gashes which will endure a lifetime. It is bad enough\\n the flogging of men, but far worse is this punishment when inflicted\\n on women and children. Small boys of ten or twelve, with excitable,\\n hot-tempered masters, often are most harsh\",\n \" COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, 1909\\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY A. CONAN DOYLE\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nPREFACE\\n\\n\\nThere are many of us in England who consider the crime which has been\\nwrought in the Congo lands by King Leopold of Belgium and his followers to\\nbe the greatest which has ever been known in human annals. Personally I am\\nstrongly of that opinion. There have been great expropriations\"\n ],\n [\n \"I\\n\\nHOW THE CONGO FREE STATE CAME TO BE FOUNDED\\n\\n\\nIn the earlier years of his reign King Leopold of Belgium began to display\\nthat interest in Central Africa which for a long time was ascribed to\\nnobility and philanthropy, until the contrast between such motives, and\\nthe actual unscrupulous commercialism, became too glaring to be sustained.\\nAs far back as the year 1876 he called a conference of humanitarians and\\ntravellers, who met at Brussels for the purpose of debating various plans\\nby which\",\n \"87\\n\\n Some Catholic Testimony as to the Congo 97\\n\\n The Evidence Up to Date 102\\n\\n The Political Situation 114\\n\\n Some Congolese Apologies 118\\n\\n Solutions 123\\n\\n Appendix 127\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nTHE CRIME OF THE CONGO\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nI\\n\\nHOW THE CONGO FREE STATE CAME TO BE FOUNDED\\n\\n\\nIn the earlier years of his reign King Leopold of Belgium\",\n \"that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\\nAugust 10th, 1908. But responsibility cannot be so easily shaken off. The\\nCongo State was founded by the Belgian King, and exploited by Belgian\\ncapital, Belgian soldiers and Belgian concessionnaires. It was defended\\nand upheld by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles\",\n \"the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\\n\\\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 188\",\n \"were all for\\nLeopold, the one attracted by the prospect of pushing their missions into\\nthe heart of Africa, the others delighted at the offer of an open market\\nfor their produce. At the Congress of Berlin, which was called to regulate\\nthe situation, the nations vied with each other in furthering the plans of\\nthe King of the Belgians and in extolling his high aims. The Congo Free\\nState was created amid general rejoicings. The veteran Bismarck, as\\ncredulous as the others, pronounced its baptismal blessing. \\\"The New Congo\\nState\",\n \"icings. The veteran Bismarck, as\\ncredulous as the others, pronounced its baptismal blessing. \\\"The New Congo\\nState is called upon,\\\" said he, \\\"to become one of the chief promoters of\\nthe work\\\" (of civilization) \\\"which we have in view, and I pray for its\\nprosperous development and for the fulfilment of the noble aspirations of\\nits illustrious founder.\\\" Such was the birth of the Congo Free State. Had\\nthe nations gathered round been able to perceive its future, the betrayal\\nof religion and civilization\",\n \"oulded.\\n\\nIn the meantime King Leopold, feeling the weakness of his personal\\nposition in face of the great enterprise which lay before him in Africa,\\nendeavoured more and more to draw Belgium, as a State, into the matter.\\nAlready the Congo State was largely the outcome of Belgian work and of\\nBelgian money, but, theoretically, there was no connection between the two\\ncountries. Now the Belgian Parliament was won over to advancing ten\\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\\nsprang up which has eventually\",\n \"OF THE CONGO STATE\\n\\n\\nHaving received his mandate from the civilized world King Leopold\\nproceeded to organize the Government of the new State, which was in theory\\nto be independent of Belgium, although ruled by the same individual. In\\nEurope, King Leopold was a constitutional monarch; in Africa, an absolute\\nautocrat. There were chosen three ministers for the new State--for foreign\\naffairs, for finances and for internal affairs; but it cannot be too\\nclearly understood that they and their successors, up to 1908, were\\n\",\n \"now, after all these years, with all the facts notorious, we\\nare still at the stage of polite diplomatic expostulations. It is no\\nanswer to say that France and Germany have shown even less regard for the\\npledge they took at Berlin. An individual does not condone the fact that\\nhe has broken his word by pointing out that his neighbour has done the\\nsame.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nII\\n\\nTHE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CONGO STATE\\n\\n\\nHaving received his mandate from the civilized world King Leopold\\nproceeded to organize the Government of\",\n \"ME CONGOLESE APOLOGIES\\n\\n\\nIt only remains to examine some of the Congolese attempts to answer the\\nunanswerable. It is but fair to hear the other side, and I will set down\\nsuch points as they advance as clearly as I can:\\n\\n1.--_That the Congo State is independent and that it is no one else's\\nbusiness what occurs within its borders._\\n\\nI have, I trust, clearly shown that by the Berlin Treaty of 1885 the State\\nwas formed on certain conditions, and that these conditions as affecting\\nboth\",\n \", first, Great Britain\\nand the Congo State; secondly, Great Britain and Belgium. In each case\\nGreat Britain was, indeed, the spokesman of the civilized world.\\n\\nSo far as one can trace, no strong protest was raised by the British\\nGovernment at the time when the Congo State took the fatal step, the\\ndirect cause of everything which has followed, of leaving the honest\\npath, trodden up to that time by all European Colonies, and seizing the\\nland of the country as their own. Only in 1896 do we find protests\",\n \"ate given to King Leopold, strengthened the position\\nof the new State to such an extent that it found no difficulty in securing\\na further loan from Belgium of twenty-five millions of francs, upon\\ncondition that, after ten years, Belgium should have the option of taking\\nover the Congo lands as a colony.\\n\\nIf in the years which immediately succeeded the Brussels Conference--from\\n1890 to 1894--a bird's-eye view could be taken of the enormous river\\nwhich, with its tributaries, forms a great twisted fan radiating\",\n \"was the birth of the Congo Free State. Had\\nthe nations gathered round been able to perceive its future, the betrayal\\nof religion and civilization of which it would be guilty, the immense\\nseries of crimes which it would perpetrate throughout Central Africa, the\\nlowering of the prestige of all the white races, they would surely have\\nstrangled the monster in its cradle.\\n\\nIt is not necessary to record in this statement the whole of the\\nprovisions of the Berlin Congress. Two only will suffice, as they are at\\nthe same time the most important and the most flag\",\n \"a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 1885 a State is formed for the \\\"moral and\\nmaterial improvement of the native races.\\\" In 1903 the native \\\"is not\\nentitled to anything.\\\" The two phrases mark the beginning and the end of\\nKing Leopold's journey.\\n\\nIn 1904 the British Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\\nof Consul Casement.\",\n \"driven him to his death, and by the\\nlast reports neither his relatives nor his creditors have received any\\nportion of this large sum. Consider the whole story and say if it is\\nexaggeration to state that Gustav Maria Rabinck was robbed and murdered by\\nthe Congo Free State.\\n\\nHaving shown in these two examples the way in which the Congo Free State\\nhas dared to treat the citizens of European States who have traded within\\nher borders, I will now proceed to detail, in chronological order, some\\naccount of the dark story of that State's relations\",\n \". He expressed to the\\nCommissioners his disappointment at the failure of the Congo Government to\\nrealize the promises with which it inaugurated its career. He declared he\\ncould no longer wear the decorations which he had received from the\\nSovereign of the Congo State. He gave it as his opinion that the ills the\\ncountry was suffering from were due to the haste of a few men to get rich,\\nand to the absence of anything like a serious attempt to properly police\\nthe country in the interests of the people. He instanced the few judicial\\nofficers, and\",\n \"the State is a\\nclose accomplice. Finally, the European directors of this bloodstained\\ncompany are, or were at the time, the Senator Van der Nest, who acted as\\nPresident; and as Council: Count John d'Oultremont, Grand Marshal of the\\nBelgian Court; Baron Dhanis, of Congo fame, and M. van Eetevelde, the\\ncreature of the King, and the writer of so many smug despatches to the\\nBritish Government about the mission of civilization and the high purpose\\nof the Congo State. Now\",\n \"ceived by the general public from the Congo Free State concerned the\\nfounding of new stations, and the idea prevailed that King Leopold's\\nenterprise was indeed working out upon the humanitarian lines which had\\nbeen originally planned. Then, for the first time, incidents occurred\\nwhich gave some glimpse of the violence and anarchy which really\\nprevailed.\\n\\nThe first of these, so far as Great Britain is concerned, lay in the\\ntreatment of natives from Sierra Leone, Lagos, and other British\\nSettlements, who had been engaged by the Belgians to\",\n \"claimed to belong, not to the\\ninhabitants, but to the State--that is, to King Leopold.\\n\\nWith this sheaf of treaties in his portfolio the King of the Belgians now\\napproached the Powers with high sentiments of humanitarianism, and with a\\ndefinite request that the State which he was forming should receive some\\nrecognized status among the nations. Was he at that time consciously\\nhypocritical? Did he already foresee how widely his future actions would\\ndiffer from his present professions? It is a problem which will interest\\n\",\n \"was won over to advancing ten\\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\\nsprang up which has eventually led to annexation. At the time of this loan\\nKing Leopold let it be known that he had left the Congo Free State in his\\nwill to Belgium. In this document appear the words, \\\"A young and spacious\\nState, directed from Brussels, has pacifically appeared in the sunlight,\\nthanks to the benevolent support of the Powers that have welcomed its\\nappearance. Some Belgians administer it, while others\"\n ],\n [\n \"and\\n active.\\\"\\n\\nIn 1903 there were 600 people surviving.\\n\\nIn 1894 Ikoko in the Crown Domain began to feel the effects of \\\"moral and\\nmaterial regeneration.\\\" On May 30th of that year Mr. Clark writes:\\n\\n \\\"Owing to trouble with the State the Irebo people fled and left their\\n homes. Yesterday the State soldiers shot a sick man who had not\\n attempted to run away, and others have been killed by the State\\n (native) soldiers, who, in the\",\n \"ives to seek shelter in the recesses\\n of the hospitable bush, or, across the frontiers, to find it in French\\n or Portuguese Congo, not yet afflicted with so many labours and\\n alarms, far from the roads traversed by white men, those baneful\\n intruders, and their train of strange and disquieting habits.\\\" The\\n outlook was as gloomy when he wandered along the path trodden by the\\n caravans to the Pool and back again. \\\"We are constantly meeting these\\n carriers,\",\n \"ered along the path trodden by the\\n caravans to the Pool and back again. \\\"We are constantly meeting these\\n carriers, either isolated or in Indian file; blacks, blacks, miserable\\n blacks, with horribly filthy loin-clothes for their only garments;\\n their bare and frizzled heads supporting their loads--chest, bale,\\n ivory-tusk, hamper of rubber, or barrel; for the most part broken\\n down, sinking under the burdens made heavier by their weariness and\\n insuff\",\n \"arms against the Belgians,\\nbut Rabinck had acquired such influence among them that he was still able\\nto carry on his trade in ivory and rubber for which he held a permit from\\nthe Katanga Company.\\n\\nShortly after receiving this permit, for which he had paid a considerable\\nsum, certain changes were made in the company by which the State secured a\\ncontrolling influence in it. A new manager, Major Weyns, appeared, who\\nrepresented the new régime, superseding M. Lévêque, who had sold the\\npermits\",\n \"illed some of us when we were\\n working away in the forest, and others got lost or died from exposure\\n and starvation, and we begged the white man to leave us alone, saying\\n we could get no more rubber, but the white men and their soldiers\\n said: \\\"Go! You are only beasts yourselves; you are nyama (meat).\\\" We\\n tried, always going further into the forest, and when we failed and\\n our rubber was short, the soldiers came to our towns and killed us.\\n Many were shot, some had their ears cut\",\n \"a sick man who had not\\n attempted to run away, and others have been killed by the State\\n (native) soldiers, who, in the absence of a white man, do as they\\n please.\\\"\\n\\nIn November, 1894:\\n\\n \\\"At Ikoko quite a number of people have been killed by the soldiers,\\n and most of the others are living in the bush.\\\"\\n\\nIn the same month he complained officially to Commissaire Fievez:\\n\\n \\\"If you do not come soon and stop the present trouble the towns will\\n be empty\",\n \"these people without paying for it. The\\n revolution will extend.\\\" He adds: \\\"The post (Isangi) is close to the\\n large settlement of an important coast man, Kayamba, who now is\\n devoted to the interests of the State, catching slaves for them, and\\n stealing ivory from the natives of the interior. Does the\\n philanthropic King of the Belgians know about this? If not, he ought\\n to.\\\"\\n\\nAs he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent\\npeace, his comments become more bitter.\",\n \"\\n to.\\\"\\n\\nAs he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent\\npeace, his comments become more bitter. The nascent rubber trade began to\\nintrude its methods upon his notice:\\n\\n \\\"Formerly the natives were well treated, but now expeditions have been\\n sent in every direction, forcing natives to make rubber and to bring\\n it to the stations. Up the Ikelemba, we are taking down one hundred\\n slaves, mere children, all taken in unholy wars against the\\n natives.... It was\",\n \"from Olmutz, a man of a gentle\\nand lovable nature, popular with all who knew him, and remarkable, as\\nseveral have testified, for his just and kindly treatment of the natives.\\nHe had, for some years, traded with the people of Katanga, which is the\\nsoutheastern portion of the Congo State where it abuts upon British\\nCentral Africa. The natives were at the time in arms against the Belgians,\\nbut Rabinck had acquired such influence among them that he was still able\\nto carry on his trade in ivory and\",\n \"to that last odious abyss of hypocrisy.\\nIt stands alone, colossal in its horror, colossal, too, in its effrontery.\\n\\nA few more anecdotes from the worthy Mr. Clark. This is an extract from a\\nletter to the Chief of the District, Mueller:\\n\\n \\\"There is a matter I want to report to you regarding the Nkake\\n sentries. You remember some time ago they took eleven canoes and shot\\n some Ikoko people. As a proof they went to you with some hands, of\",\n \"possible.\\\"\\n\\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\\n\\n \\\"Everywhere,\\\" he said, \\\"I hear the same news of the doings of the\\n Congo Free State--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. It is\\n said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... In Europe we\\n understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel\\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\\\"\\n\\nOn\",\n \"could take\\n the place of all I saw worn. In all the district I never saw a single\\n brass rod, nor any domestic animals except a few miserable chickens.\\n The extreme poverty of the people is most remarkable. There is no\\n doubt as to their desire to possess European goods, but they have\\n nothing with which to buy except rubber and ivory, which is claimed by\\n the State.\\n\\n \\\"It may be thought that I am painting their condition in too dark\\n colours, but I feel it requires strong words to give a fair idea of\\n the utter hop\",\n \"cruel\\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\\\"\\n\\nOn all sides he sees evidence of the utter disregard of humanity:\\n\\n \\\"To-day I saw the dead body of a carrier lying on the trail. There\\n could have been no mistake about his being a sick man; he was nothing\\n but skin and bones. These posts ought to give some care to the\\n porters; the heartless disregard for life is abominable.... Native\\n life is considered of no value by\",\n \", the two termini of the projected\\nline, cities are rising, with stations, wharves and public buildings. In\\nthe extreme southeast one would see an expedition under Stairs exploring\\nand annexing the great district of Katanga, which abuts upon Northern\\nRhodesia. In the furthest northeast and along the whole eastern border,\\nsmall military expeditions would be disclosed, fighting against rebellious\\nblacks or Arab raiders. Then, along all the lines of the rivers, posts\\nwere being formed and stations established--some by the State and some by\\nthe various\",\n \"villages and gardens. It\\ndecrees that all the products of this immense region are its private\\nproperty, and it monopolizes the trade in them. As regards the primitive\\nproprietors, the native tribes, they are dispossessed by a simple\\ncircular; permission is graciously granted to them to collect such\\nproducts, but only on condition that they bring them for sale to the State\\nfor whatever the latter may be pleased to give them. As regards alien\\ntraders, they are prohibited in all this territory from trading with the\\nnatives.\\\"\\n\\nEverywhere there were stern orders\",\n \"not more than six or seven years ago, there\\n were at least 3,000! It made one's heart heavy to listen to the tales\\n of bloodshed and cruelty. And it all seemed so foolish. To kill the\\n people off in the wholesale way in which it has been done in this Lake\\n district, because they would not bring in a sufficient quantity of\\n rubber to satisfy the white man--and now here is an empty country and\\n a very much diminished output of rubber as the inevitable\\n consequence....\\\"\\n\\nFinally Mr. Sc\",\n \"brought to an end), are cutting down the rubber vines instead of tapping\\nthem (illegal, of course, but what does that matter where Belgian\\nConcessionnaires are in question), goes on to show the pressure on the\\npeople:\\n\\n \\\"The work is compulsory; it is also incessant. The vines have to be\\n sought out in the forest, cut down and disentangled from the\\n high-growing branches, divided into lengths, and carried home. This\\n operation has to be continually repeated, as no man can carry a\",\n \"complained officially to Commissaire Fievez:\\n\\n \\\"If you do not come soon and stop the present trouble the towns will\\n be empty.... I entreat you to help us to have peace on the Lake.... It\\n seems so hard to see the dead bodies in the creek and on the beach,\\n and to know why they are killed.... People are living in the bush like\\n wild beasts without shelter or proper food, and afraid to make fires.\\n Many died in this way. One woman ran away with three children--they\\n all died in the forest, and the\",\n \"station and\\n made to stand one behind the other, and an Albini bullet sent through\\n them. 'A pity to waste cartridges on such wretches.' Only the roads to\\n and fro from the various posts are kept open, and large tracts of\\n country are abandoned to the wild beasts. The white man himself told\\n me that you could walk on for five days in one direction, and not see\\n a single village or a single human being. And this where formerly\\n there was a big tribe!...\\n\\n \\\"As one by one the surviving relatives of\",\n \"dusty and malodorous; covered with insects as their huge procession\\n passes over mountains and through valleys; dying on the tramp, or,\\n when the tramp is over, going to their villages to die of exhaustion.\\\"\\n\\nIt will be remembered that Captain Lothaire, having been acquitted of the\\nmurder of Mr. Stokes, was sent out by King Leopold to act as\\nmanaging-director of the Anversoise Trust. In 1898, he arrived in the\\nMongalla District, and from then onward there\"\n ],\n [\n \"the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\\n\\\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 188\",\n \"that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\\nAugust 10th, 1908. But responsibility cannot be so easily shaken off. The\\nCongo State was founded by the Belgian King, and exploited by Belgian\\ncapital, Belgian soldiers and Belgian concessionnaires. It was defended\\nand upheld by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles\",\n \"\\n\\n \\\"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\\n consent and just compensation.\\\"\\n\\nAgain:\\n\\n \\\"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\\\"\\n\\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\\n\\n \\\"Humanity, whose cause we plead\",\n \"possible.\\\"\\n\\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\\n\\n \\\"Everywhere,\\\" he said, \\\"I hear the same news of the doings of the\\n Congo Free State--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. It is\\n said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... In Europe we\\n understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel\\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\\\"\\n\\nOn\",\n \"had entered this dark land, and his\\nexclamation was: \\\"The Bulgarian atrocities are child's play to what has\\ntaken place here.\\\"\\n\\nFather Vermeersch then proceeds to deal with the Congo balance-sheets. His\\ncriticism is most destructive. He shows at considerable length, and with a\\nfine grasp of his subject, that there is really no connection at all\\nbetween the so-called estimate and the actual budget. In the course of the\\nState's development there is an excess running to millions of pounds which\\nhas never been account\",\n \"driven him to his death, and by the\\nlast reports neither his relatives nor his creditors have received any\\nportion of this large sum. Consider the whole story and say if it is\\nexaggeration to state that Gustav Maria Rabinck was robbed and murdered by\\nthe Congo Free State.\\n\\nHaving shown in these two examples the way in which the Congo Free State\\nhas dared to treat the citizens of European States who have traded within\\nher borders, I will now proceed to detail, in chronological order, some\\naccount of the dark story of that State's relations\",\n \"the State is a\\nclose accomplice. Finally, the European directors of this bloodstained\\ncompany are, or were at the time, the Senator Van der Nest, who acted as\\nPresident; and as Council: Count John d'Oultremont, Grand Marshal of the\\nBelgian Court; Baron Dhanis, of Congo fame, and M. van Eetevelde, the\\ncreature of the King, and the writer of so many smug despatches to the\\nBritish Government about the mission of civilization and the high purpose\\nof the Congo State. Now\",\n \"undertakings. They were, for the most\\npart, dissolved, and then reconstructed under Congo law. In most cases, in\\nreturn for the monopoly, the State was given control, sometimes to the\\nextent of appointing all managers and agents. Half the shares of the\\ncompany or half the profits were usually made over to the State. Thus one\\nmust bear in mind in future that whether one talks of the Abir Company, of\\nthe Kasai, the Katanga, the Anversoise, or any other, it is really with\\nthe State--that is, with\",\n \"ME CONGOLESE APOLOGIES\\n\\n\\nIt only remains to examine some of the Congolese attempts to answer the\\nunanswerable. It is but fair to hear the other side, and I will set down\\nsuch points as they advance as clearly as I can:\\n\\n1.--_That the Congo State is independent and that it is no one else's\\nbusiness what occurs within its borders._\\n\\nI have, I trust, clearly shown that by the Berlin Treaty of 1885 the State\\nwas formed on certain conditions, and that these conditions as affecting\\nboth\",\n \"I\\n\\nHOW THE CONGO FREE STATE CAME TO BE FOUNDED\\n\\n\\nIn the earlier years of his reign King Leopold of Belgium began to display\\nthat interest in Central Africa which for a long time was ascribed to\\nnobility and philanthropy, until the contrast between such motives, and\\nthe actual unscrupulous commercialism, became too glaring to be sustained.\\nAs far back as the year 1876 he called a conference of humanitarians and\\ntravellers, who met at Brussels for the purpose of debating various plans\\nby which\",\n \"was won over to advancing ten\\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\\nsprang up which has eventually led to annexation. At the time of this loan\\nKing Leopold let it be known that he had left the Congo Free State in his\\nwill to Belgium. In this document appear the words, \\\"A young and spacious\\nState, directed from Brussels, has pacifically appeared in the sunlight,\\nthanks to the benevolent support of the Powers that have welcomed its\\nappearance. Some Belgians administer it, while others\",\n \"a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 1885 a State is formed for the \\\"moral and\\nmaterial improvement of the native races.\\\" In 1903 the native \\\"is not\\nentitled to anything.\\\" The two phrases mark the beginning and the end of\\nKing Leopold's journey.\\n\\nIn 1904 the British Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\\nof Consul Casement.\",\n \", first, Great Britain\\nand the Congo State; secondly, Great Britain and Belgium. In each case\\nGreat Britain was, indeed, the spokesman of the civilized world.\\n\\nSo far as one can trace, no strong protest was raised by the British\\nGovernment at the time when the Congo State took the fatal step, the\\ndirect cause of everything which has followed, of leaving the honest\\npath, trodden up to that time by all European Colonies, and seizing the\\nland of the country as their own. Only in 1896 do we find protests\",\n \"a profit if a land be exploited as Spain exploited Central\\nAmerica, or Belgium the Congo. It would always be more profitable to sack\\na business than to run it. Now, if the forced revenue of the Congo State\\ndisappeared, it would, at a moderate estimate, take a minimum of a million\\na year for twenty years to bring the demoralized State back to the normal\\ncondition of a tropical colony. Would Belgium pay this £20,000,000? It is\\ncertain that she would not. Reform, then, is an\",\n \". He expressed to the\\nCommissioners his disappointment at the failure of the Congo Government to\\nrealize the promises with which it inaugurated its career. He declared he\\ncould no longer wear the decorations which he had received from the\\nSovereign of the Congo State. He gave it as his opinion that the ills the\\ncountry was suffering from were due to the haste of a few men to get rich,\\nand to the absence of anything like a serious attempt to properly police\\nthe country in the interests of the people. He instanced the few judicial\\nofficers, and\",\n \"I am\\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\\n stay away.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\\\"\\n\\nIt is terrible to\",\n \"claim that they had saved a part of the natives from slavery. How\\nthey proceeded to impose upon all of them a yoke, compared to which the\\nold slavery was merciful, will be shown in these pages. From the time of\\nthe fall of the Arab power the Congo Free State was only called upon to\\nuse military force in the case of mutinies of its own black troops, and of\\noccasional risings of its own tormented \\\"citizens.\\\" Master of its own\\nhouse, it could settle down to exploit the country which it had won.\\n\\n\",\n \"ran away, kicked her. They talk of philanthropy and\\n civilization! Where it is, I do not know.\\\"\\n\\nAnd again:\\n\\n \\\"Most white officers out on the Congo are averse to the india-rubber\\n policy of the State, but the laws command it. Therefore, at each post\\n one finds the natives deserting their homes, and escaping to the\\n French side of the river when possible.\\\"\\n\\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\\n\\n \\\"Everywhere,\\\" he said, \\\"I hear the same news of the\",\n \"the Congo forces upon the other--the latter consisting largely of\\ncannibal tribes--men of the Stone Age, armed with the weapons of the\\nnineteenth century. The suppression of the slave trade is a good cause,\\nbut the means by which it was effected, and the use of Barbarians who ate\\nin the evening those whom they had slain during the day, are as bad as the\\nevil itself. Yet there is no denying the energy and ability of the Congo\\nleaders, especially of Baron Dhanis. By the year 1894\",\n \", engaged by the Congo Free State as\\n soldiers. In time of war, I suppose, they could be executed, after\\n court-martial, by being shot; but to hang a subject of any other\\n country without trial seems to me outrageous.\\\"\\n\\nTalking of the general unrest he says:\\n\\n \\\"It is the natural outcome of the harsh, cruel policy of the State in\\n wringing rubber from these people without paying for it. The\\n revolution will extend.\\\" He adds: \\\"The post (Isangi) is close to the\\n large\"\n ],\n [\n \"citizens of a generous country, appealing to their religion, to their\\n patriotism, to their hearts.\\\"\\n\\nSurely after such evidence from such a source there must be some\\nheart-searchings among those higher members of the Catholic hierarchy,\\nincluding both Cardinals and Bishops, who have done what they could to\\ncripple the efforts of the reformers. Misinformed through their own want\\nof care in searching for the truth, they have stood before the whole world\\nas the defenders of that which will be described by the historian as the\\ngreatest crime in history.\\n\",\n \"the admissions of the Belgian\\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by\",\n \"work was in the interest of God. But here the real doers have sat\\nremote with cold blood in their veins, knowing well from day to day what\\nthey were doing, and with the sole object of adding more to wealth which\\nwas already enormous. Consider this circumstance and consider also the\\nprofessions of philanthropy with which the huge massacre was inaugurated,\\nthe cloud of lies with which it has been screened, the persecution and\\ncalumny of the few honest men who uncovered it, the turning of religion\\nagainst religion and of nation against nation in the attempt to\",\n \"had been held up as a step toward improvement. The\\nBritish Government had been assured that his visit would be of a nature to\\neffect all necessary reforms. On arriving in the country, however, he\\nannounced that he had no power to act, and only came to see and hear. Thus\\na few more months were gained before any change could be effected. The\\nonly small consolation which we can draw from all this succession of\\nimpotent ambassadors and reforming committees, which do not, and were\\nnever intended to, reform, is that the game has\",\n \"to the Palace at Brussels. M.\\nWahis, the Governor-General, a man who has played a sinister part in the\\ncountry, came up the river and endeavoured to get the outspoken Swede to\\ncontradict himself, or, failing that, to intimidate him. To get at the\\ntruth or to right the wrong seems to have been the last thing in his mind,\\nfor he knew well that the wrong was essential to the system, and that\\nwithout it the wheels would move more slowly and the head engineer in\\nEurope would soon wish to know what\",\n \"tridges and remarked,\\n\\\"I can turn those into 25,000 pounds of rubber.\\\" Captain Lothaire believed\\nin the same trade methods, for his fighting and his output increased\\ntogether. It is worth while to slaughter one-fourth of the population if\\nthe effect is to drive the others to frenzied and unceasing work.\\n\\nNo definite details might ever have reached Europe of those doings had not\\nLothaire made the capital mistake of quarrelling with his subordinates.\\nOne of these, named Lacroix, sent a communication to\",\n \"in\\n order to disguise or mislead justice. If the sentinels were puzzled\\n about this message, what would the natives be?\\\"\\n\\nI have said that there was more to be said for the cannibal murderers than\\nfor those who worked the system. The capitas pleaded the same excuse.\\n\\\"Don't take this to heart so much,\\\" said one of them to the missionary.\\n\\\"They kill us if we do not bring rubber. The Commissary has promised us if\\nwe bring plenty of hands he will shorten our service. I have\",\n \"without the authority of the\\n Governor-General.\\\"\\n\\nAnd, finally, his reasons for writing his book:\\n\\n \\\"The contemplation of an immeasurable misery has caused us to publish\\n this book. The gravity of the evil, its roots causes, had long escaped\\n us. When we knew them we could not retain within ourselves the\\n compassion with which we were imbued, and we resolved to tell the\\n citizens of a generous country, appealing to their religion, to their\\n patriotism, to their hearts.\\\"\\n\\nSurely after such evidence from such\",\n \"which there\\nis any record, has been reserved for these latter years. Some excuse there\\nis for racial extermination where, as with Saxons and Celts, two peoples\\ncontend for the same land which will but hold one. Some excuse, too, for\\nreligious massacre when, like Mahomet the Second at Constantinople, or\\nAlva in the Lowlands, the bigoted murderers honestly conceived that their\\nbrutal work was in the interest of God. But here the real doers have sat\\nremote with cold blood in their veins, knowing well from day to day\",\n \"m seem inoffensive. What they actually were was, as we have seen, some\\ntwenty thousand cannibals armed with Albini repeating rifles. The Report\\nsays:\\n\\n \\\"This system of native supervisors (_surveillants_) has given rise to\\n numerous criticisms, even on the part of State officials. The\\n Protestant missionaries heard at Bolobo, Ikoko (Lake Mantumba),\\n Lulonga, Bonginda, Ikau, Baringa and Bongandanga, drew up formid\",\n \".\\\"\\n\\nThat last sentence seems the crown of the arch. If the agents on the spot\\ndid not attempt before the Commission to deny the outrages who shall\\nventure to do it in their name?\\n\\nThe remainder of the Report, though stuffed with courtly platitudes and\\nwith vague recommendations of reform which are absolutely unpractical, so\\nlong as the root causes of all the trouble remain undisturbed, contains a\\nfew positive passages which are worth preserving. Talking of the want of\\ndefinite instructions to military expeditions, it says:\\n\\n \\\"The\",\n \"\\n \\\"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\\n into this state now.\\\"\\n\\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty\",\n \"never\\npublished at all, in spite of an informal assurance to Lord Lansdowne that\\nnothing would be held back. Only the conclusions saw the light, without\\nthe document upon which they were founded.\\n\\nThe effect of that Report, when stripped of its courtly phrases, was an\\nabsolute confirmation of all that had been said by so many witnesses\\nduring so many years. It is easy to blame the Commissioners for not having\\nthe full courage of their convictions, but their position was full of\\ndifficulty. The Report was really a personal one. The State was,\",\n \"in such a way that he might be justified, in\\n case it should become known and an investigation should be made. In\\n such a case the Commissary could say, 'Why, I told him openly not to\\n kill any more' and he might put the blame on the soldier to justify\\n himself, though the blame and the punishment in all its force ought to\\n have been put on himself, after he had done such a terrible act in\\n order to disguise or mislead justice. If the sentinels were puzzled\\n about this message, what would the natives\",\n \"was there to preach!\\n\\nMr. Sjoblom seems to have been unable to believe at first that such deeds\\nwere done with the knowledge and approval of the whites. He ventured to\\nappeal to the Commissary. \\\"He turned in anger on me,\\\" he adds, \\\"and in the\\npresence of the soldiers said that he would expel me from the town if I\\nmeddled with matters of that kind any more.\\\"\\n\\nIt would, indeed, have been rather absurd for the Commissary to interfere\\nwhen the severed hand had actually been cut off\",\n \"want? Tell us, and we will get it for\\n you.'\\\"\\n\\nSpeaking of English scepticism as to King Leopold's intentions, he says:\\n\\n \\\"Though they understand the satisfaction of a sentiment when applied\\n to England, they are slow to understand that it may be a sentiment\\n that induced King Leopold II. to father this International\\n Association. He is a dreamer, like his _confrères_ in the work,\\n because the sentiment is applied to the neglected millions of the Dark\\n Continent. They cannot appreciate rightly\",\n \"and sufferings.\\\"\\n\\nThe action was taken for criminal libel by M. Hagstrom against Mr.\\nStannard, for saying that this evidence had been given before the\\nCommission. Of course, the only way to establish the fact was a reference\\nto the evidence itself which lay at Brussels. But as Hagstrom was only a\\npuppet of the higher Government of the Congo (which means the King\\nhimself), in their attempt to revenge themselves upon the missionaries it\\nwas not very likely that official documents would be produced for the mere\\npurpose of serving\",\n \"\\nReport they indicated that the question of the State appropriation of the\\nland had forced itself upon their notice. \\\"If the State wishes to avoid\\nthe principle of the State appropriation of vacant lands resulting in\\nabuse,\\\" says the Report, \\\"it should place its agents and officials on\\ntheir guard against too restrictive interpretation and too rigorous\\napplications.\\\" Weak and trimming, it is true, but it was the cornerstone\\nof all that the King had built, and how were they to knock it rudely out?\\nTheir attitude was not heroic. But it was natural\",\n \"est between humanity and civilization on one side and cruel greed upon\\nthe other.\\n\\nThe organization of the Catholic Church is more disciplined, and admits of\\nless individualism than that of those religious bodies which supplied the\\nvaliant champions of right in the Congo. The simple priests were doubtless\\nas horrified as others, within the limit of their knowledge, but the means\\nof expression were denied them. M. Colfs, himself a Catholic, said in the\\nBelgian Chamber: \\\"Our missionaries have less liberty than foreign\\nmissionaries. They are expected to keep silence.... There is\",\n \"body,\\nthe matter would have been simple. But of the three good care had been\\ntaken that two should be men who would have to answer for what was said.\\nMr. Janssens was a more or less independent man, but a Belgian, and a\\nsubject all the same. Baron Nisco was in the actual employ of the King,\\nand his future was at stake. On the whole, I think that the Commissioners\\nacted like brave and honest men.\\n\\nNaturally they laid all stress upon what could be said in favour of the\\nKing and his creation. They\"\n ],\n [\n \"was won over to advancing ten\\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\\nsprang up which has eventually led to annexation. At the time of this loan\\nKing Leopold let it be known that he had left the Congo Free State in his\\nwill to Belgium. In this document appear the words, \\\"A young and spacious\\nState, directed from Brussels, has pacifically appeared in the sunlight,\\nthanks to the benevolent support of the Powers that have welcomed its\\nappearance. Some Belgians administer it, while others\",\n \"Grey declared that we\\n\\\"could not wait forever,\\\" and yet we see that he is waiting still. In 1908\\nthe long looked-for annexation came at last, and the Congo State exchanged\\nthe blue flag with the golden star for the tricolour of Belgium. Immediate\\nand radical reforms were promised, but the matter ended as all previous\\npromises have done. In 1909 M. Renkin, the Belgian Colonial Minister, went\\nout to inspect the Congo State, and had the frankness before going to say\\nthat nothing would be\",\n \"that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\\nAugust 10th, 1908. But responsibility cannot be so easily shaken off. The\\nCongo State was founded by the Belgian King, and exploited by Belgian\\ncapital, Belgian soldiers and Belgian concessionnaires. It was defended\\nand upheld by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles\",\n \"the admissions of the Belgian\\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by\",\n \"claimed to belong, not to the\\ninhabitants, but to the State--that is, to King Leopold.\\n\\nWith this sheaf of treaties in his portfolio the King of the Belgians now\\napproached the Powers with high sentiments of humanitarianism, and with a\\ndefinite request that the State which he was forming should receive some\\nrecognized status among the nations. Was he at that time consciously\\nhypocritical? Did he already foresee how widely his future actions would\\ndiffer from his present professions? It is a problem which will interest\\n\",\n \", which will take another year\\nto produce, and will be utterly futile when reduced to practice. But the\\nworld has seen this game too often. Surely it will not be made a fool of\\nagain. There is some limit to European patience.\\n\\nMeanwhile, in this very month of August, 1909, a full year after the\\nannexation by Belgium (an annexation, be it mentioned, which will not be\\nofficially recognized by Great Britain until she is satisfied in the\\nmatter of reforms), Prince Albert, the heir to the throne,\",\n \"this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all the honours\\nof war. M. de Favereau, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, alternately\\nexplained that there was no connection at all between Belgium and the\\nCongo State, and that it was a breach of Belgian patriotism to attack the\\nlatter. The policy of the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which\",\n \", he can do so in several ways. He can join the Congo\\nReform Association (Granville House, Arundel Street, W. C.). He can write\\nto his local member and aid in getting up local meetings to ventilate the\\nquestion. Finally, he can pass this book on and purchase other copies, for\\nany profits will be used in setting the facts before the French and German\\npublic.\\n\\nIt may be objected that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\\nAug\",\n \"the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\\n\\\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 188\",\n \"oulded.\\n\\nIn the meantime King Leopold, feeling the weakness of his personal\\nposition in face of the great enterprise which lay before him in Africa,\\nendeavoured more and more to draw Belgium, as a State, into the matter.\\nAlready the Congo State was largely the outcome of Belgian work and of\\nBelgian money, but, theoretically, there was no connection between the two\\ncountries. Now the Belgian Parliament was won over to advancing ten\\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\\nsprang up which has eventually\",\n \"a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital, and was endorsed and\\ndefended by Belgian governments. It is out of the question that Belgium\\nshould remain on the Congo.\\n\\nNor, in face of reform, would Belgium wish to be there. She could not\\ncarry the burden. When the country is restored to its inhabitants together\\nwith their freedom, it will be in the same position as those German and\\nEnglish colonies which entail heavy annual expenditure from the mother\\n\",\n \"did not ask and desire their co-operation.\\n\\nFrom this date remonstrances were frequent from the British Government,\\nthough they inadequately represented the anger and impatience of those\\nBritish subjects who were aware of the true state of affairs. The British\\nGovernment refrained from going to extremes because it was understood that\\nthere would shortly be a Belgian annexation, and it was hoped that this\\nwould mark the beginning of better things without the necessity for our\\nintervention. Delay followed delay, and nothing was done. A Liberal\\nGovernment was as\",\n \", therefore, since whatever happens must be\\nfor the better.\\n\\nCan a solution be found through Belgium?\\n\\nNo, it is impossible, and that should be recognized from the outset. The\\nBelgians have been given their chance. They have had nearly twenty-five\\nyears of undisturbed possession, and they have made it a hell upon earth.\\nThey cannot disassociate themselves from this work or pretend that it was\\ndone by a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital,\",\n \"stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\\nsources. Everywhere, in flagrant disregard of the Treaty of Berlin, the\\nState proclaimed itself to be the sole landlord and the sole trader. In\\nsome cases it worked its own so-called property, in other cases it leased\\nit. Even those who had striven to help King Leopold in the earlier stages\\nof his enterprise were thrown overboard. Major Parminter, himself engaged\\nin trade upon the Cong\",\n \"that he was poisoned. There is much that is of the sixteenth\\ncentury in this State, besides its views of its duties to the natives.\\n\\nBefore passing these revelations with the attendant burst of candour in\\nthe Belgian Press, it may be well to transcribe the following remark in an\\ninterview from a returned Congo official which appeared in the _Antwerp\\nNieuw Gazet_ (April 10th, 1900). He says:\\n\\n \\\"When first commissioned to establish a fort, I was given some native\\n soldiers and a\",\n \"the palisades in the\\n form of a cross.\\\"\\n\\nIn the face of these fresh revelations there was an outburst of feeling in\\nBelgium, showing that it is only their ignorance of the true facts which\\nprevents the inhabitants of that country from showing the same humanity as\\nany other civilized nation would do. They have not yet realized the foul\\nthings which have been done in their name. Surely when they do realize it\\nthere will be a terrible reckoning! Some were already very alive to the\\nquestion. MM. Vandervelde and Lorand fought br\",\n \"was destined to crush out all general private trade in\\na country as large as the whole of Europe with Russia omitted. That was\\nthe admitted outcome of their enterprise. Now listen to M. Beernaert, the\\nBelgian Premier, speaking in the year 1885:\\n\\n \\\"The State, of which our King will be the Sovereign, will be a sort of\\n international Colony. There will be no monopolies, no privileges....\\n Quite the contrary: absolute freedom of commerce, freedom of property,\\n freedom of navigation.\\\"\\n\\n\",\n \"I am\\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\\n stay away.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\\\"\\n\\nIt is terrible to\",\n \"\\n\\n \\\"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\\n consent and just compensation.\\\"\\n\\nAgain:\\n\\n \\\"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\\\"\\n\\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\\n\\n \\\"Humanity, whose cause we plead\",\n \".\\n\\nAnd what shall that action be? War with Belgium? On them must rest the\\nresponsibility for that. Our measures must be directed against the Congo\\nState, which has not yet been recognized by us as being a possession of\\nBelgium. If Belgium take up the quarrel then so be it. There are many ways\\nin which we can bring the Congo State to her knees. A blockade of the\\nCongo is one, but it has the objection of the international complications\\nwhich might ensue. An easier way would be to proclaim this guilty land as\\nan out\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n to.\\\"\\n\\nAs he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent\\npeace, his comments become more bitter. The nascent rubber trade began to\\nintrude its methods upon his notice:\\n\\n \\\"Formerly the natives were well treated, but now expeditions have been\\n sent in every direction, forcing natives to make rubber and to bring\\n it to the stations. Up the Ikelemba, we are taking down one hundred\\n slaves, mere children, all taken in unholy wars against the\\n natives.... It was\",\n \"children--are placed\\nin rows before the Commissary, who counts them to see the soldiers have\\nnot wasted the cartridges. The Commissary is paid a commission of about a\\npenny per pound upon all the rubber he gets; it is, therefore, to his\\ninterest to get as much as he can.\\\"\\n\\nHere is corroboration and amplification of all that Mr. Glaves had put\\nforward. The system had not been long established, and was more efficient\\nten or twelve years later, but already it was bearing some notable first\\nfruits of civilization. King Leop\",\n \"it was hoped would shortly be increased to ten\\n tons. The quantity of rubber brought by the three men in question\\n would have represented, probably, for the three of them certainly not\\n less than seven kilog. of pure rubber. That would be a very safe\\n estimate, and at an average of 7fr. per kilog. they might be said to\\n have brought in £2 worth of rubber. In return for this labour, or\\n imposition, they had received goods which cost certainly under 1_s._,\\n and whose local valuation came to \",\n \"asked by the rubber agent if he would bring\\n in rubber now. He replied that he would. Although a chief of\\n considerable standing, he has been flogged, imprisoned, tied by the\\n neck with men who were regarded as slaves, made to do the most menial\\n work, and his beard, which was of many years' growth, and reached\\n almost to the ground, was cut off by the rubber agent because he\\n visited another town.\\\"\\n\\nLontulu was cross-examined by the Commission and his evidence was not\\nshaken. Here are some of\",\n \"their\\n country, but without avail. The rifles were too much for them. So they\\n submitted, and made up their minds to do the best they could under the\\n altered circumstances. First came the command to build houses for the\\n soldiers, and this was done without a murmur. Then they had to feed\\n the soldiers, and all the men and women--hangers-on--who accompanied\\n them.\\n\\n \\\"Then they were told to bring in rubber. This was quite a new thing\\n for them to do. There was rubber in the forest several days away\",\n \"\\\"Considering that\\nno concession has been granted to gather rubber in the domains of the\\nState within this district, (1) natives can only gather rubber on\\ncondition of selling the same to the State; (2) any person or persons or\\nvessels having in his or their possession, or on board, more than one\\nkilogramme of rubber will have a _procèsverbal_ drawn up against him, or\\nthem, or it; and the ship can be confiscated without prejudice to any\\nsubsequent proceedings.\\\"\\n\\nThe sight of these\",\n \"\\\"Then they were told to bring in rubber. This was quite a new thing\\n for them to do. There was rubber in the forest several days away from\\n their home, but that it was worth anything was news to them. A small\\n reward was offered, and a rush was made for the rubber; 'What strange\\n white men, to give us cloth and beads for the sap of a wild vine.'\\n They rejoiced in what they thought was their good fortune. But soon\\n the reward was reduced until they were told to bring in the rubber for\\n nothing. To this they\",\n \":\\n\\n \\\"The war on account of rubber. The State demands that the natives\\n shall make rubber and sell same to its agents at a very low price. The\\n natives do not like it. It is hard work and very poor pay, and takes\\n them away from their homes into the forest, where they feel very\\n unsafe, as there are always feuds among them.... The rubber from this\\n district has cost hundreds of lives, and the scenes I have witnessed\\n while unable to help the oppressed have been almost enough to make me\\n wish I were dead.\",\n \"production of india-rubber. I did not see this\\n correspondence, and cannot vouch for the truth of the statement; but\\n the officer who informed me that it had passed before his own eyes was\\n one of the highest standing in the interior.\\\"\\n\\nAnother witness showed the exact ratio between cartridges and rubber:\\n\\n \\\"'The S. A. B. on the Bussira, with 150 guns, get only ten tons\\n (rubber) a month; we, the State, at Momboyo, with 130 guns, get\",\n \"iquitous trade. Let me give an\\n incident to show how this unrighteous trade affects the people. One\\n day a State corporal, who was in charge of the post of Solifa, was\\n going round the town collecting rubber. Meeting a poor woman, whose\\n husband was away fishing, he asked: 'Where is your husband?' She\\n answered by pointing to the river. He then asked: 'Where is his\\n rubber?' She answered: 'It is ready for you.' Whereupon he said 'You\\n lie,' and lifting up his gun, shot her dead\",\n \"armed with rifles and let loose to hunt and kill people,\\n because they do not get rubber to sell at a mere nothing to the State,\\n _and it is blood-curdling to see them returning with hands of the\\n slain and to find the hands of young children, amongst bigger ones,\\n evidencing their 'bravery.'_\\\"\\n\\nThe following was written on May 3rd, 1895:\\n\\n \\\"The war on account of rubber. The State demands that the natives\\n shall make rubber and sell same to its agents at a\",\n \"what I was told. But I heard the same story so often, and in so many\\n different places, that I was at last obliged to accept it. On my\\n return I followed up this track, and found that it was all true. And I\\n found also that the rubber is collected from the Domaine Privé in\\n forests from ten to forty miles beyond the boundary of the Crown\\n Domain.\\n\\n \\\"Once the vines had been found the working of the rubber is a small\\n part of the labour. I have made a careful calculation of the distance\\n \",\n \"95 more than 650 tons of\\n rubber, bought (_sic_) for 2-1/2_d._ (European price), and sold at\\n Antwerp for 5_s._ 5_d._ per kilo (2 lbs.).\\\"\\n\\nA later bulletin adds:\\n\\n \\\"With this development of general order is combined an inevitable\\n amelioration in the native's condition of existence _wherever he comes\\n into contact with the European element_....\\n\\n \\\"Such is, in fact, one of the ends of the\",\n \"-ci pourrait commettre en route.\\n\\n \\\"Le Capitaine-Commandant,\\n (Signé) \\\"SARRAZZYN.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"_Colquilhatville, le 1er Mai, 1896._\\\"\\n\\nPretty good for the State which boasts that it has put down the slave\\ntrade.\\n\\nThere is a passage showing the working of the rubber system which is so\\nclear and authoritative that I transcribe it in full:\\n\\n \\\"I went to the homes of these men some miles away and found out\",\n \"not more than six or seven years ago, there\\n were at least 3,000! It made one's heart heavy to listen to the tales\\n of bloodshed and cruelty. And it all seemed so foolish. To kill the\\n people off in the wholesale way in which it has been done in this Lake\\n district, because they would not bring in a sufficient quantity of\\n rubber to satisfy the white man--and now here is an empty country and\\n a very much diminished output of rubber as the inevitable\\n consequence....\\\"\\n\\nFinally Mr. Sc\",\n \"visit to the West End establishment showed that the salesmen behind\\n the counter were well-dressed and well-nourished, ignoring altogether\\n the festering misery of the sweaters' dens in which every article sold\\n over that counter was made up.\\\"\\n\\nAfter showing that the Kasai Company, in their haste for wealth (and,\\nperhaps, in their foresight, as knowing that their occupancy may be\\nbrought to an end), are cutting down the rubber vines instead of tapping\\nthem (illegal, of course, but what does that matter\",\n \"so\\nclear and authoritative that I transcribe it in full:\\n\\n \\\"I went to the homes of these men some miles away and found out their\\n circumstances. To get the rubber they had first to go fully a two\\n days' journey from their homes, leaving their wives, and being absent\\n for from five to six days. They were seen to the forest limits under\\n guard, and if not back by the sixth day trouble was likely to ensue.\\n To get the rubber in the forests--which, generally speaking, are very\\n swampy--involves much\",\n \"Lothaire, in similar circumstances, was allowed to slip\\nfrom the country. An insignificant agent may be occasionally made an\\nexample of, but to punish the local manager of a great company would be to\\nlessen the output of rubber, and what are morality and justice compared to\\nthat?\\n\\nWhy should one continue with the testimony given before the Commission?\\nTheir wanderings covered a little space of the country and were confined\\nto the main river, but everywhere they elicited the same tale of slavery,\\nmutilation, and murder. What Scrivener and\",\n \"est abuses.\\n\\n \\\"There is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a\\n totally inadequate wage. In visiting the various rubber-working towns,\\n one would expect to see some signs of European commodities that had\\n been given in exchange for the millions of pounds' worth of rubber\\n that has been extracted from them, but the native residents possess\\n actually nothing at all.\\n\\n \\\"_Their conditions of living are deplorable_, and the filth and\\n squalor of their villages is only too apparent. _The people live in\",\n \"the\\nriver, a distance of 2,000 miles. The agent and rubber systems were still\\nin their infancy, but already he remarked on every side that violence and\\ndisregard of human life which were so soon to grow to such proportions.\\nRemember that he was himself a Stanleyman, a pioneer and a native trader,\\nby no means easy to shock. Here are some of his remarks as taken from his\\ndiary.\\n\\nDealing with the release of slaves by the Belgians, for which so much\\ncredit has been claimed, he says (_Cent\"\n ],\n [\n \"administrative authorities of the\\n region.\\\"\\n\\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\\n\\n \\\"In the morning, when about to start for K----, many people from the\\n surrounding country came in to see me. They brought with them three\\n individuals who had been shockingly wounded by gun fire, two men and a\\n very small boy, not more than six years of age, and a fourth--a boy\\n child of six or seven--whose right hand was cut off at the wrist. One\\n of the men, who had been shot through the arm,\",\n \"said:\\n\\n \\\"I also told them what we had seen on the Ikelemba, of the signs of\\n desolation in all the districts, of the heartrending stories the\\n people told us, of the butcheries wrought by the various white men of\\n the State and companies who had, from time to time, been stationed\\n there among whom a few names were notorious. I pointed out to them the\\n fact that the basin of the Ikelemba was supposed to be free-trade\\n territory also, but that everywhere the people\",\n \"regret\\n still more that an impenetrable veil hides from sight all that takes\\n place in the territory of this _Domaine_. IT IS EIGHT OR TEN TIMES THE\\n SIZE OF BELGIUM, AND THROUGHOUT THIS VAST EXTENT OF TERRITORY THERE IS\\n NEITHER MISSIONARY NOR MAGISTRATE.\\\"\\n\\nOnly one missionary at that date had entered this dark land, and his\\nexclamation was: \\\"The Bulgarian atrocities are child's play to what has\\ntaken\",\n \"not more than six or seven years ago, there\\n were at least 3,000! It made one's heart heavy to listen to the tales\\n of bloodshed and cruelty. And it all seemed so foolish. To kill the\\n people off in the wholesale way in which it has been done in this Lake\\n district, because they would not bring in a sufficient quantity of\\n rubber to satisfy the white man--and now here is an empty country and\\n a very much diminished output of rubber as the inevitable\\n consequence....\\\"\\n\\nFinally Mr. Sc\",\n \"said they were runaways from a district a\\n little distance away, where rubber was being collected. They told us\\n some horrible tales of murder and starvation, and when we heard all we\\n wondered that men so maltreated should be able to live without\\n retaliation. The boys and girls were naked, and I gave them each a\\n strip of calico, much to their wonderment....\\n\\n \\\"Four hours and a half brought us to a place called Sa.... On the way\\n we passed two villages with more people than we had seen for days.\\n\",\n \"Lothaire, in similar circumstances, was allowed to slip\\nfrom the country. An insignificant agent may be occasionally made an\\nexample of, but to punish the local manager of a great company would be to\\nlessen the output of rubber, and what are morality and justice compared to\\nthat?\\n\\nWhy should one continue with the testimony given before the Commission?\\nTheir wanderings covered a little space of the country and were confined\\nto the main river, but everywhere they elicited the same tale of slavery,\\nmutilation, and murder. What Scrivener and\",\n \"villages and gardens. It\\ndecrees that all the products of this immense region are its private\\nproperty, and it monopolizes the trade in them. As regards the primitive\\nproprietors, the native tribes, they are dispossessed by a simple\\ncircular; permission is graciously granted to them to collect such\\nproducts, but only on condition that they bring them for sale to the State\\nfor whatever the latter may be pleased to give them. As regards alien\\ntraders, they are prohibited in all this territory from trading with the\\nnatives.\\\"\\n\\nEverywhere there were stern orders\",\n \"and, in fact, a great deal more, to prove\\n the state of terrorism that exists, and the virtual slavery in which\\n the people are held....\\n\\n \\\"So much for the journey to the Lake. It has enlarged my knowledge of\\n the country, and also, alas! my knowledge of the awful deeds enacted\\n in the mad haste of men to get rich. So far as I know, I am the first\\n white man to go into the _Domaine Privé_ of the King, other than the\\n employees of the State\",\n \"of men, women and\\nchildren killed by the sentries of a M. Pilaet.\\n\\n \\\"Last year,\\\" he says, \\\"or the year before, the young woman, Imenega,\\n was tied to a forked tree and chopped in half with a hatchet,\\n beginning at the left shoulder, chopping down through the chest and\\n abdomen and out at the side.\\\" Again, with every detail of name and\\n place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been\\n enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and\",\n \"\\n \\\"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\\n into this state now.\\\"\\n\\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty\",\n \"ner's time, and stated that no\\n village in this district had escaped murders under this man's\\n _régime_.\\n\\n \\\"Next we dealt with irregularities common to all agents, calling\\n attention to and proving by specific instances the public floggings of\\n practically any and every one; quoting, for instance, seeing with my\\n own eyes six Ngombe men receive one hundred strokes each, delivered\\n simultaneously by two sentries.\\n\\n \\\"Next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men,\\n \",\n \"dusty and malodorous; covered with insects as their huge procession\\n passes over mountains and through valleys; dying on the tramp, or,\\n when the tramp is over, going to their villages to die of exhaustion.\\\"\\n\\nIt will be remembered that Captain Lothaire, having been acquitted of the\\nmurder of Mr. Stokes, was sent out by King Leopold to act as\\nmanaging-director of the Anversoise Trust. In 1898, he arrived in the\\nMongalla District, and from then onward there\",\n \"the\\n village, which the collection of the rubber entailed. The soldiers\\n discovered them sitting about. 'What, not gone yet?' Bang! bang! bang!\\n bang! And down fell one and another, dead, in the midst of wives and\\n companions. There is a terrible wail, and an attempt made to prepare\\n the dead for burial, but this is not allowed. All must go at once to\\n the forest. And off the poor wretches had to go, without even their\\n tinderboxes to make fires. Many died in the forests\",\n \"chase them as the others had done, but after what they had suffered\\n they did not trust more any one's word, and they had fled from their\\n country and were now going to stay here, far from their homes, in this\\n country where there was no rubber.\\n\\n \\\"_Q._ 'How long is it since you left your homes, since the big trouble\\n you speak of?'\\n\\n \\\"_A._ 'It lasted for three full seasons, and it is now four seasons\\n since we fled and came into the K---- country.'\\n\\n \\\"_Q._ 'How\",\n \"\\n to.\\\"\\n\\nAs he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent\\npeace, his comments become more bitter. The nascent rubber trade began to\\nintrude its methods upon his notice:\\n\\n \\\"Formerly the natives were well treated, but now expeditions have been\\n sent in every direction, forcing natives to make rubber and to bring\\n it to the stations. Up the Ikelemba, we are taking down one hundred\\n slaves, mere children, all taken in unholy wars against the\\n natives.... It was\",\n \"of the\\n so-called 'rubber tax.'\\\"\\n\\nOn November 28th he writes:\\n\\n \\\"The State soldiers brought in seven hands, and reported having shot\\n the people in the act of running away to the French side, etc.\\\"\\n\\n * * * * *\\n\\n \\\"We found all that the soldiers had reported was untrue, and that the\\n statements made by the natives to me were true. We saw only six\\n bodies; a seventh had evidently fallen into the water, and we learned\\n in a day or two\",\n \"saw an\\noutrage. No doubt he had formed the opinion that his brethren had been\\nexaggerating. Then one day he heard an outburst of firing, and turned his\\nlittle steamer to the spot. This is what he saw: \\\"They were horrified to\\nfind the native soldiers of the Government under the eyes of their white\\nofficers engaged in mutilating the dead bodies of the natives who had just\\nbeen killed. Three native bodies were lying near the river's edge and\\nhuman limbs were lying within a few yards from the steamer. A\",\n \"it had been brought\\nunder his notice.\\n\\nMr. Scrivener, a gentleman who had been twenty-three years on the Congo,\\nwas the next witness. His evidence was largely the same as the \\\"Diary\\\"\\nfrom which I have already quoted, concerning the condition of the Crown\\nDomain. Many witnesses were examined. \\\"How do you know the names of the\\nmen murdered?\\\" a lad was asked. \\\"One of them was my father,\\\" was the\\ndramatic reply. \\\"Men of stone,\\\" wrote Mr. Scrivener, \\\"would be moved by\\nthe stories that are\",\n \"the experience\\nof Rev. Mr. Scrivener, an English missionary, who in July, August and\\nSeptember, 1903, traversed a section of the Crown Domain, that same region\\nspecially assigned to King Leopold in person, in which Mr. Clark had spent\\nso many nightmare years. We shall see how far the independent testimony of\\nthe Englishman and the American, the one extracted from a diary, the other\\nfrom a succession of letters, corroborate each other:\\n\\n \\\"At six in the morning woke up to find it still raining.\",\n \"their\\n country, but without avail. The rifles were too much for them. So they\\n submitted, and made up their minds to do the best they could under the\\n altered circumstances. First came the command to build houses for the\\n soldiers, and this was done without a murmur. Then they had to feed\\n the soldiers, and all the men and women--hangers-on--who accompanied\\n them.\\n\\n \\\"Then they were told to bring in rubber. This was quite a new thing\\n for them to do. There was rubber in the forest several days away\"\n ],\n [\n \"WHOLE OF THE LAND,\\n WITH THIS CONSEQUENCE: THAT IT CAN DISPOSE--ITSELF AND SOLELY--OF ALL\\n THE PRODUCTS OF THE SOIL; PROSECUTE AS A POACHER ANY ONE WHO TAKES\\n FROM THAT LAND THE LEAST OF ITS FRUITS, OR AS A RECEIVER OF STOLEN\\n GOODS ANY ONE WHO RECEIVES SUCH FRUIT: FORBID ANY ONE TO ESTABLISH\\n HIMSELF ON THE GREATER PART OF\",\n \"\\n\\n \\\"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\\n consent and just compensation.\\\"\\n\\nAgain:\\n\\n \\\"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\\\"\\n\\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\\n\\n \\\"Humanity, whose cause we plead\",\n \", indispensable in natural law that I\\n should exhaust the utility of an article or of land in order to be\\n able to claim it as my own; it suffices that I should make use of it\\n in a positive manner, but of my own will, personally, and that I\\n should have the will to forbid any stranger to use it without my\\n consent. Hence effective occupation is joined to intention, and all\\n the constituent elements to a valid title of property exist. Let us\\n suppose, moreover, that some great Belgian landowner wishes to convert\\n\",\n \"is satisfied with\\n him, that he is telling the truth, and therefore say that it is\\n unnecessary. He tells how his beard of many years' growth, and which\\n nearly reached his feet, was cut off by a rubber agent, merely because\\n he visited a friend in another town. Asked if he had not killed\\n A.B.I.R. sentries, he denied it, but owned to his people spearing\\n three of the sentry's boys. He tells how the white man fought him, and\\n when the fight was over handed him his corpses\",\n \"ought that he was giving permission for the establishment of a station.\\nThe idea that he was actually bartering away the land was never even in\\nhis mind, for it was held by a communal tenure for the whole tribe, and it\\nwas not his to barter. And yet it is on the strength of such treaties as\\nthese that twenty millions of people have been expropriated, and the whole\\nwealth and land of the country proclaimed to belong, not to the\\ninhabitants, but to the State--that is, to King Leopold.\\n\\nWith this sheaf\",\n \"villages and gardens. It\\ndecrees that all the products of this immense region are its private\\nproperty, and it monopolizes the trade in them. As regards the primitive\\nproprietors, the native tribes, they are dispossessed by a simple\\ncircular; permission is graciously granted to them to collect such\\nproducts, but only on condition that they bring them for sale to the State\\nfor whatever the latter may be pleased to give them. As regards alien\\ntraders, they are prohibited in all this territory from trading with the\\nnatives.\\\"\\n\\nEverywhere there were stern orders\",\n \"the constituent elements to a valid title of property exist. Let us\\n suppose, moreover, that some great Belgian landowner wishes to convert\\n portions of his property into sporting land--that land, nevertheless,\\n remains in his entire possession. Amongst the Congo natives, no doubt,\\n occupation is usually collective; but such occupation is as worthy of\\n respect as no matter what individual appropriation.\\\"\\n\\nHe continues:\\n\\n \\\"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to\",\n \"their means of existence.\\\" Such are the words of 1886. Before the end of\\n1887, an Act had been published, though not immediately put into force,\\nwhich had the exactly opposite effect. By this Act all lands which were\\nnot actually occupied by natives were proclaimed to be the property of the\\nState. Consider for a moment what this meant! No land in such a country is\\nactually occupied by natives save the actual site of their villages, and\\nthe scanty fields of grain or manioc which surround them. Everywhere\\nbeyond these tiny patches\",\n \"and, in fact, a great deal more, to prove\\n the state of terrorism that exists, and the virtual slavery in which\\n the people are held....\\n\\n \\\"So much for the journey to the Lake. It has enlarged my knowledge of\\n the country, and also, alas! my knowledge of the awful deeds enacted\\n in the mad haste of men to get rich. So far as I know, I am the first\\n white man to go into the _Domaine Privé_ of the King, other than the\\n employees of the State\",\n \"of tenure over\\n the land they actually cultivate, or certain rights of\\n usage--wood-cutting, hunting, fishing--on the remainder of the\\n territory; but these rights of usage, which are much more important\\n than with us, appear to imply a full _animus domini_, and to signify a\\n complete appropriation, which is carried out amongst us in different\\n fashion. It is not, in effect, indispensable in natural law that I\\n should exhaust the utility of an article or of land in order to be\\n able to claim it\",\n \"in the grass, within a few yards of\\n the house I was occupying, were numbers of human bones, in some cases\\n complete skeletons. I counted thirty-six skulls, and saw many sets of\\n bones from which the skulls were missing. I called one of the men, and\\n asked the meaning of it. 'When the rubber palaver began,' said he,\\n 'the soldiers shot so many we grew tired of burying, and very often we\\n were not allowed to bury, and so just dragged the bodies out into the\\n grass and\",\n \"ly before all, pointed to his twenty\\n witnesses, placed on the table his one hundred and ten twigs, each\\n twig representing a life for rubber. 'These are chiefs' twigs, these\\n are men's, these shorter are women's, these smaller still are\\n children's.' He gives the names of scores, but begs for permission to\\n call his son as a reminder. The Commission, though, is satisfied with\\n him, that he is telling the truth, and therefore say that it is\\n unnecessary. He tells how his beard of many years\",\n \"\\nReport they indicated that the question of the State appropriation of the\\nland had forced itself upon their notice. \\\"If the State wishes to avoid\\nthe principle of the State appropriation of vacant lands resulting in\\nabuse,\\\" says the Report, \\\"it should place its agents and officials on\\ntheir guard against too restrictive interpretation and too rigorous\\napplications.\\\" Weak and trimming, it is true, but it was the cornerstone\\nof all that the King had built, and how were they to knock it rudely out?\\nTheir attitude was not heroic. But it was natural\",\n \"\\n place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been\\n enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and father with\\n daughter. \\\"Oh, Inglesia,\\\" cried the chief in conclusion, \\\"don't stay\\n away long; if you do, they will come, I am sure they will come, and\\n then these enfeebled legs will not support me, I cannot run away. I am\\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\\n stay away.\\\"\\n\\n \",\n \"all that the King had built, and how were they to knock it rudely out?\\nTheir attitude was not heroic. But it was natural. They go on:\\n\\n \\\"As the greater portion of the land in the Congo is not under\\n cultivation, this interpretation concedes to the State A RIGHT OF\\n ABSOLUTE AND EXCLUSIVE OWNERSHIP OVER VIRTUALLY THE WHOLE OF THE LAND,\\n WITH THIS CONSEQUENCE: THAT IT CAN DISPOSE--ITSELF AND SOLELY--OF ALL\",\n \"stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\\nsources. Everywhere, in flagrant disregard of the Treaty of Berlin, the\\nState proclaimed itself to be the sole landlord and the sole trader. In\\nsome cases it worked its own so-called property, in other cases it leased\\nit. Even those who had striven to help King Leopold in the earlier stages\\nof his enterprise were thrown overboard. Major Parminter, himself engaged\\nin trade upon the Cong\",\n \"ed like brave and honest men.\\n\\nNaturally they laid all stress upon what could be said in favour of the\\nKing and his creation. They would have been more than human had they not\\ndone so. They enlarged upon the size and the traffic of the cities at the\\nmouth of the Congo--as if the whole loot of a nation could pass down a\\nriver without causing commerce and riches at its mouth. Very early in the\\nReport they indicated that the question of the State appropriation of the\\nland had forced itself upon their notice. \\\"If the State wishes to avoid\\nthe\",\n \"PRIATION.\\\"\\n\\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\\n\\n \\\"Humanity, whose cause we plead, Christian rights, whose principles we\\n endeavour to inculcate, compel us to touch briefly upon a curious and\\n mysterious creation which is peculiar to the Congo State--the _Domaine\\n de la Couronne_.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"What are the revenues of this mysterious civil personality?\\n Estimates, more or less conjectural in nature, elaborated by M.\\n Cattier appear to establish\",\n \"asked by the rubber agent if he would bring\\n in rubber now. He replied that he would. Although a chief of\\n considerable standing, he has been flogged, imprisoned, tied by the\\n neck with men who were regarded as slaves, made to do the most menial\\n work, and his beard, which was of many years' growth, and reached\\n almost to the ground, was cut off by the rubber agent because he\\n visited another town.\\\"\\n\\nLontulu was cross-examined by the Commission and his evidence was not\\nshaken. Here are some of\",\n \"where neither are to be found that the agent has his own unfettered way.\\nWith all these considerations, is it not clear that all the terrible facts\\nwhich we know are but the mere margin of that welter of violence and\\ninjustice which the Jesuit, Father Vermeersch, has summed up in the two\\nwords, \\\"Immeasurable Misery!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nIII\\n\\nTHE WORKING OF THE SYSTEM\\n\\n\\nHaving claimed, as I have shown, the whole of the land, and therefore the\\nwhole of its products, the State\"\n ],\n [\n \"the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\\n\\\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 188\",\n \"possible.\\\"\\n\\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\\n\\n \\\"Everywhere,\\\" he said, \\\"I hear the same news of the doings of the\\n Congo Free State--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. It is\\n said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... In Europe we\\n understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel\\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\\\"\\n\\nOn\",\n \", what a vast cry\\nwould have reached the heavens. In the Congo hell the most lurid glow is\\nto be found in the Royal Domain. And the money dragged from these tortured\\npeople is used in turn to corrupt newspapers and public men--that it may\\nbe possible to continue the system. So the devil's wheel goes round and\\nround! Here are some extracts from Mr. Murdoch's report:\\n\\n \\\"I remarked to the old chief of the largest town I came across that\\n his people seemed to be numerous. 'Ah,' said he, '\",\n \"\\n\\n \\\"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\\n consent and just compensation.\\\"\\n\\nAgain:\\n\\n \\\"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\\\"\\n\\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\\n\\n \\\"Humanity, whose cause we plead\",\n \"treatment of natives from Sierra Leone, Lagos, and other British\\nSettlements, who had been engaged by the Belgians to come to Congoland and\\nhelp in railway construction and other work. Coming from the settled order\\nof such a colony as Sierra Leone or Lagos, these natives complained loudly\\nwhen they found themselves working side by side with impressed Congolese,\\nand under the discipline of the armed sentinels of the Force Publique.\\nThey were discontented and the discontent was met by corporal punishment.\\nThe matter grew to the dimensions of\",\n \"ING VILLAGE\\n WITHOUT SPECIAL PERMIT. A NATIVE DISPLACING HIMSELF WITHOUT BEING THE\\n BEARER OF SUCH AN AUTHORIZATION, WOULD LEAVE HIMSELF OPEN TO ARREST,\\n TO BE TAKEN BACK AND EVEN PUNISHED.\\\"\\n\\nWho could possibly deny, after reading this passage, that the Congo native\\nhas been reduced from freedom into slavery? There follows a curious\\nsentence:\\n\\n \\\"Let us hasten,\\\" says the Report, \\\"to say that in\",\n \"an old-established one, affecting only the mouth\\nof the river, which could not be disturbed without obvious international\\ncomplications, and which bears no relation to the great Upper Congo\\npopulations, whose inhuman treatment was the question at issue.\\n\\nThe Report then proceeds to point out very clearly, the all-important fact\\nwhich arises from the expropriation of the native from the land. \\\"Apart\\nfrom the rough plantations,\\\" it says, \\\"which barely suffice, to feed the\\nnatives themselves and to supply the stations, all the fruits of the soil\\n\",\n \"I am\\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\\n stay away.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\\\"\\n\\nIt is terrible to\",\n \"iable and just intercourse with people\\nwho have been strangers to them.\\\" Stanley was a hard man, but he was no\\nhypocrite. What he said he undoubtedly meant. It is worth remarking, in\\nview of the accounts of the laziness or stupidity of the natives given by\\nKing Leopold's apologists in order to justify their conduct toward them,\\nthat Stanley had the very highest opinion of their industry and commercial\\nability. The following extracts from his writings set this matter beyond\\nall doubt:\\n\\n \\\"Bolobo is a great centre for the\",\n \"ME CONGOLESE APOLOGIES\\n\\n\\nIt only remains to examine some of the Congolese attempts to answer the\\nunanswerable. It is but fair to hear the other side, and I will set down\\nsuch points as they advance as clearly as I can:\\n\\n1.--_That the Congo State is independent and that it is no one else's\\nbusiness what occurs within its borders._\\n\\nI have, I trust, clearly shown that by the Berlin Treaty of 1885 the State\\nwas formed on certain conditions, and that these conditions as affecting\\nboth\",\n \"some care to the\\n porters; the heartless disregard for life is abominable.... Native\\n life is considered of no value by the Belgians. No wonder the State is\\n hated.\\\"\\n\\nFinally, a little before his death, he heard of that practice of\\nmutilation which was one of the most marked fruits of the policy of \\\"moral\\nand material advantage of the native races\\\" promised at the Berlin\\nConference:\\n\\n \\\"Mr. Harvey heard from Clarke, who is at Lake Mantumba, that the State\\n soldiers have been in\",\n \"that terrible things\\nbegan to dawn upon him. Casement had travelled in 1887 in the Congo, and\\nwas surprised to note the timidity of the natives. Soon he had his\\nexplanation:\\n\\n \\\"At one of these village, S----, after confidence had been restored\\n and the fugitives had been induced to come in from the surrounding\\n forest, where they had hidden themselves, I saw women coming back,\\n carrying their babies, their household utensils, and even the food\\n they had hastily snatched up,\",\n \"ran away, kicked her. They talk of philanthropy and\\n civilization! Where it is, I do not know.\\\"\\n\\nAnd again:\\n\\n \\\"Most white officers out on the Congo are averse to the india-rubber\\n policy of the State, but the laws command it. Therefore, at each post\\n one finds the natives deserting their homes, and escaping to the\\n French side of the river when possible.\\\"\\n\\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\\n\\n \\\"Everywhere,\\\" he said, \\\"I hear the same news of the\",\n \"the Congo forces upon the other--the latter consisting largely of\\ncannibal tribes--men of the Stone Age, armed with the weapons of the\\nnineteenth century. The suppression of the slave trade is a good cause,\\nbut the means by which it was effected, and the use of Barbarians who ate\\nin the evening those whom they had slain during the day, are as bad as the\\nevil itself. Yet there is no denying the energy and ability of the Congo\\nleaders, especially of Baron Dhanis. By the year 1894\",\n \"ceived by the general public from the Congo Free State concerned the\\nfounding of new stations, and the idea prevailed that King Leopold's\\nenterprise was indeed working out upon the humanitarian lines which had\\nbeen originally planned. Then, for the first time, incidents occurred\\nwhich gave some glimpse of the violence and anarchy which really\\nprevailed.\\n\\nThe first of these, so far as Great Britain is concerned, lay in the\\ntreatment of natives from Sierra Leone, Lagos, and other British\\nSettlements, who had been engaged by the Belgians to\",\n \"claim that they had saved a part of the natives from slavery. How\\nthey proceeded to impose upon all of them a yoke, compared to which the\\nold slavery was merciful, will be shown in these pages. From the time of\\nthe fall of the Arab power the Congo Free State was only called upon to\\nuse military force in the case of mutinies of its own black troops, and of\\noccasional risings of its own tormented \\\"citizens.\\\" Master of its own\\nhouse, it could settle down to exploit the country which it had won.\\n\\n\",\n \"finally took his own\\nlife--another martyr in the cause of the Congo.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nVI\\n\\nVOICES FROM THE DARKNESS\\n\\n\\nI will now return to the witnesses of the shocking treatment of the\\nnatives. Rev. Joseph Clark was an American missionary living at Ikoko in\\nthe Crown Domain, which is King Leopold's own special private preserve.\\nThese letters cover the space between 1893 and 1899.\\n\\nThis is Ikoko as he found it in 1893:\\n\\n \",\n \". \\\"Rumours have it,\\\" he wrote to his relatives, \\\"that\\nEuropeans who have been taken are poisoned, so if I disappear without\\nfurther news you may guess what has become of me.\\\" Nothing more was heard\\nfrom him save two agonized letters, begging officials to speed him on his\\nway. He died, as he had foreseen, on the trip down the Congo, and was\\nhurriedly buried in a wayside station when two hours more would have\\nbrought the body to Leopoldville. If it is possible to add a darker shadow\\nto\",\n \"driven him to his death, and by the\\nlast reports neither his relatives nor his creditors have received any\\nportion of this large sum. Consider the whole story and say if it is\\nexaggeration to state that Gustav Maria Rabinck was robbed and murdered by\\nthe Congo Free State.\\n\\nHaving shown in these two examples the way in which the Congo Free State\\nhas dared to treat the citizens of European States who have traded within\\nher borders, I will now proceed to detail, in chronological order, some\\naccount of the dark story of that State's relations\",\n \"to themselves. By law the maximum of forced labour\\nwas forty hours in a month. But, as I have said, there is no relation at\\nall between law and practice in the Congo.\\n\\nOne witness appeared with a string knotted in forty-two places, and with a\\npacket of fifty leaves. Each knot represented a murder and each leaf a\\nrope in his native village.\\n\\nThe son of a murdered chief took the body of his father (all names, dates\\nand place specified) to show it to the white agent, in the hope of\\njustice. The agent called his\"\n ],\n [\n \"tridges and remarked,\\n\\\"I can turn those into 25,000 pounds of rubber.\\\" Captain Lothaire believed\\nin the same trade methods, for his fighting and his output increased\\ntogether. It is worth while to slaughter one-fourth of the population if\\nthe effect is to drive the others to frenzied and unceasing work.\\n\\nNo definite details might ever have reached Europe of those doings had not\\nLothaire made the capital mistake of quarrelling with his subordinates.\\nOne of these, named Lacroix, sent a communication to\",\n \"had,\\n many of them, been compelled to sell their children and their wives. I\\n saw no live-stock of any kind in W---- save a very few fowls--possibly\\n under a dozen--and it seemed, indeed, not unlikely that, as these\\n people asserted, they had great difficulty in always getting their\\n supplies ready. A father and mother stepped out and said that they had\\n been forced to sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods\\n to meet their share of the fine. A widow\",\n \", was in business in Liverpool, and was afterward elected to\\nbe a member of the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce. There is, indeed, a\\nconnection between Liverpool and the movement, because it was while\\nengaged in the shipping trade there that Mr. Morel was brought into\\nconnection with the persons and the facts which moved him to generous\\nindignation, and started him upon the long struggle which he has so\\nsplendidly and unselfishly maintained. As a matter of fact, all business\\nmen in England have very good reason to take action against a system which\\nhas kept their commerce out of\",\n \"asked by the rubber agent if he would bring\\n in rubber now. He replied that he would. Although a chief of\\n considerable standing, he has been flogged, imprisoned, tied by the\\n neck with men who were regarded as slaves, made to do the most menial\\n work, and his beard, which was of many years' growth, and reached\\n almost to the ground, was cut off by the rubber agent because he\\n visited another town.\\\"\\n\\nLontulu was cross-examined by the Commission and his evidence was not\\nshaken. Here are some of\",\n \"is satisfied with\\n him, that he is telling the truth, and therefore say that it is\\n unnecessary. He tells how his beard of many years' growth, and which\\n nearly reached his feet, was cut off by a rubber agent, merely because\\n he visited a friend in another town. Asked if he had not killed\\n A.B.I.R. sentries, he denied it, but owned to his people spearing\\n three of the sentry's boys. He tells how the white man fought him, and\\n when the fight was over handed him his corpses\",\n \"traces on their faces; indeed, it is\\n the same as in your own cities in Europe. Know you not the military\\n man among you, the lawyer and the merchant, the banker, the artist, or\\n the poet? It is the same in Africa, MORE ESPECIALLY ON THE CONGO,\\n WHERE THE PEOPLE ARE SO DEVOTED TO TRADE.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"During the few days of our mutual intercourse they gave us a high\\n idea of their qualities--industry, after their own style, not being\\n the least\",\n \"days of our mutual intercourse they gave us a high\\n idea of their qualities--industry, after their own style, not being\\n the least conspicuous.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"As in the old time, Umangi, from the right bank, and Mpa, from the\\n left bank, despatched their representatives with ivory tusks, large\\n and small, goats and sheep, and vegetable food, clamorously demanding\\n that we should buy from them. Such urgent entreaties, accompanied with\\n blandishments to purchase their stock, were\",\n \"ability. The following extracts from his writings set this matter beyond\\nall doubt:\\n\\n \\\"Bolobo is a great centre for the ivory and camwood powder trade,\\n principally because its people are so enterprising.\\\"\\n\\nOf Irebu--\\\"a Venice of the Congo\\\"--he says:\\n\\n \\\"These people were really acquainted with many lands and tribes on the\\n Upper Congo. From Stanley Pool to Upoto, a distance of 6,000 miles,\\n they knew every landing-place on the river banks. All the\",\n \"sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods\\n to meet their share of the fine. A widow came and declared that she\\n had been forced, in order to meet her share of the fine, to sell her\\n daughter G, a little girl whom I judged from her description to be\\n about ten years of age. She had been sold to a man in Y----, who was\\n named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.\\\"\\n\\nThe natives were broken in spirit by\",\n \"\\n \\\"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\\n into this state now.\\\"\\n\\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty\",\n \"amorously demanding\\n that we should buy from them. Such urgent entreaties, accompanied with\\n blandishments to purchase their stock, were difficult to resist.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"I speak of eager native traders following us for miles for the\\n smallest piece of cloth. I mention that after travelling many miles to\\n obtain cloth for ivory and redwood powder, the despairing natives\\n asked: 'Well, what is it you do want? Tell us, and we will get it for\\n you.'\\\"\\n\\nSpeaking of English scepticism as to King Leopold's intentions\",\n \"eight years old, with a few girls among the batch, all stolen from the\\n natives. The Commissary of the district is a violent-tempered fellow.\\n While arranging to take on the hundred small slaves a woman who had\\n charge of the youngsters was rather slow in understanding his order,\\n delivered in very poor Kabanji. He sprang at her, slapped her in the\\n face, and as she ran away, kicked her. They talk of philanthropy and\\n civilization! Where it is, I do not know.\\\"\\n\\nAnd again:\\n\",\n \"children--are placed\\nin rows before the Commissary, who counts them to see the soldiers have\\nnot wasted the cartridges. The Commissary is paid a commission of about a\\npenny per pound upon all the rubber he gets; it is, therefore, to his\\ninterest to get as much as he can.\\\"\\n\\nHere is corroboration and amplification of all that Mr. Glaves had put\\nforward. The system had not been long established, and was more efficient\\nten or twelve years later, but already it was bearing some notable first\\nfruits of civilization. King Leop\",\n \"efficient agent of the Anversoise Society, that same company whose\\nred-edged securities rose to such a height when Manager Lothaire taught\\nthe natives what a minister in the Belgian House described as the\\nChristian law of work. He did his best for the company, and he did his\\nbest for himself, for he had a three per cent. commission upon the\\nrubber. Why he should be chosen among all his fellow-murderers is hard to\\nexplain, but it was so, and he found himself at Boma with a sentence of\\ntwenty years. On\",\n \"Stanley Pool to Upoto, a distance of 6,000 miles,\\n they knew every landing-place on the river banks. All the ups and\\n downs of savage life, all the profits and losses derived from barter,\\n all the diplomatic arts used by tactful savages, were as well known to\\n them as the Roman alphabet to us.... No wonder that all this\\n commercial knowledge had left its traces on their faces; indeed, it is\\n the same as in your own cities in Europe. Know you not the military\\n man among you,\",\n \"down the road, and they told the sentinel\\n to put the hands on the road that they might count them. We counted\\n eighteen right hands smoked and from the size of the hands we could\\n judge that they belonged to men, women and children. We could not\\n understand why these hands had been collected, as the Commissary had\\n given orders that no more natives were to be killed for their hands.\\n On my last journey I discovered the secret. One Monday night, a\\n sentinel who had just returned from the Commissary, said to me:\",\n \"\\n to.\\\"\\n\\nAs he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent\\npeace, his comments become more bitter. The nascent rubber trade began to\\nintrude its methods upon his notice:\\n\\n \\\"Formerly the natives were well treated, but now expeditions have been\\n sent in every direction, forcing natives to make rubber and to bring\\n it to the stations. Up the Ikelemba, we are taking down one hundred\\n slaves, mere children, all taken in unholy wars against the\\n natives.... It was\",\n \"fide_, and free from personal\\nmotive. This is by no means certain, for as Baron von Marschall pointed\\nout to the acting British Ambassador at Berlin, Stokes was known to be a\\nsuccessful trader in ivory, exporting it by the east route, and so\\ndepriving the officers of the Congo Government of a ten per cent.\\ncommission, which would be received by them if it were exported by the\\nwest route. \\\"This was the reason,\\\" the report continued, quoting the\\nGerman Statesman's words, \\\"that he had been done\",\n \"work was in the interest of God. But here the real doers have sat\\nremote with cold blood in their veins, knowing well from day to day what\\nthey were doing, and with the sole object of adding more to wealth which\\nwas already enormous. Consider this circumstance and consider also the\\nprofessions of philanthropy with which the huge massacre was inaugurated,\\nthe cloud of lies with which it has been screened, the persecution and\\ncalumny of the few honest men who uncovered it, the turning of religion\\nagainst religion and of nation against nation in the attempt to\",\n \"was there to preach!\\n\\nMr. Sjoblom seems to have been unable to believe at first that such deeds\\nwere done with the knowledge and approval of the whites. He ventured to\\nappeal to the Commissary. \\\"He turned in anger on me,\\\" he adds, \\\"and in the\\npresence of the soldiers said that he would expel me from the town if I\\nmeddled with matters of that kind any more.\\\"\\n\\nIt would, indeed, have been rather absurd for the Commissary to interfere\\nwhen the severed hand had actually been cut off\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n \\\"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\\n into this state now.\\\"\\n\\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty\",\n \"not more than six or seven years ago, there\\n were at least 3,000! It made one's heart heavy to listen to the tales\\n of bloodshed and cruelty. And it all seemed so foolish. To kill the\\n people off in the wholesale way in which it has been done in this Lake\\n district, because they would not bring in a sufficient quantity of\\n rubber to satisfy the white man--and now here is an empty country and\\n a very much diminished output of rubber as the inevitable\\n consequence....\\\"\\n\\nFinally Mr. Sc\",\n \"without the authority of the\\n Governor-General.\\\"\\n\\nAnd, finally, his reasons for writing his book:\\n\\n \\\"The contemplation of an immeasurable misery has caused us to publish\\n this book. The gravity of the evil, its roots causes, had long escaped\\n us. When we knew them we could not retain within ourselves the\\n compassion with which we were imbued, and we resolved to tell the\\n citizens of a generous country, appealing to their religion, to their\\n patriotism, to their hearts.\\\"\\n\\nSurely after such evidence from such\",\n \"in the country, and the present occupant of the post was endeavouring to\\ncarry out the duties assigned to him (those duties consisting, as usual,\\nof orders to get all the rubber possible out of the people) with as much\\nhumanity as the nature of the task permitted. In this he, no doubt, did\\nwhat was possible as one whom the system had not yet degraded to its\\nlevel--one of the rare few: and one cannot wonder that they should be\\nrare, seeing the nature of the bonds, and the helplessness in which an\\nofficial is placed\",\n \"complained officially to Commissaire Fievez:\\n\\n \\\"If you do not come soon and stop the present trouble the towns will\\n be empty.... I entreat you to help us to have peace on the Lake.... It\\n seems so hard to see the dead bodies in the creek and on the beach,\\n and to know why they are killed.... People are living in the bush like\\n wild beasts without shelter or proper food, and afraid to make fires.\\n Many died in this way. One woman ran away with three children--they\\n all died in the forest, and the\",\n \"of lives, and the scenes I have witnessed\\n while unable to help the oppressed have been almost enough to make me\\n wish I were dead. The soldiers, are themselves savages, some even\\n cannibals, trained to use rifles and in many cases they are sent away\\n without supervision, and they do as they please. When they come to any\\n town no man's property or wife is safe, and when they are at war they\\n are like devils.\\n\\n \\\"_Imagine them returning from fighting some 'rebels'; see, on the bow\\n\",\n \"and yet, as I have already said, no men\\ncould serve on such terms in a tropical country without degradation. He\\nwas goaded and driven to crime by the constant clamour from those above\\nhim. Was it, then, with the District Commissary? He had reached a\\nresponsible and well-paid post, which he would lose if his particular\\ndistrict fell behind in the race of production. Was it, then, with the\\nGovernor-General at Boma? He was a man of a hardened conscience, but for\\nhim also there was mitigation. He\",\n \": and one cannot wonder that they should be\\nrare, seeing the nature of the bonds, and the helplessness in which an\\nofficial is placed who does not carry out the full desires of his\\nsuperiors. But he had only succeeded in getting himself into trouble with\\nthe district commander in consequence. He showed Mr. Scrivener a letter\\nfrom the latter upbraiding him for not using more vigorous means, telling\\nhim to talk less and shoot more, and reprimanding him for not killing more\\nthan one man in a district under his care where there was a little\\ntrouble.\",\n \"I am\\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\\n stay away.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\\\"\\n\\nIt is terrible to\",\n \"upon we fell upon them all, and\\n killed them without mercy. An hour later we were joined by Van Eycken,\\n and told him what had been done. He answered: 'It is well, but you\\n have not done enough!' Thereupon he ordered us to cut off the heads of\\n the men and hang them on the village palisades, also their sexual\\n members, and to hang the women and children on the palisades in the\\n form of a cross.\\\"\\n\\nIn the face of these fresh revelations there was an outburst of feeling in\",\n \"but\\n should receive a little humanity. They are naked, except for a\\n miserable patch of cloth of several parts, held in place by a string\\n round the waist. They are not loosened from the rope for any purpose.\\n They live in the guard-house under the charge of black native\\n sentries, who delight in slapping and ill-using them, for pity is not\\n in the heart of the native. Some of the women have babies, but they go\\n to work just the same. They form, indeed, a miserable spectacle, and\\n one w\",\n \"President, who had listened, to his honour be it\\nspoken, with tears running down his cheeks to some of the evidence, cried\\nout in amazement and disgust. \\\"There is one document I would put in,\\\" said\\nthe agent. \\\"It is to show that 142 of my sentinels were slain by the\\nvillagers in the course of seven months.\\\" \\\"Surely that makes the matter\\nworse!\\\" cried the sagacious judge. \\\"If these well-armed men were slain by\\nthe defenceless villagers, how terrible must the wrongs have been which\\n\",\n \"saw an\\noutrage. No doubt he had formed the opinion that his brethren had been\\nexaggerating. Then one day he heard an outburst of firing, and turned his\\nlittle steamer to the spot. This is what he saw: \\\"They were horrified to\\nfind the native soldiers of the Government under the eyes of their white\\nofficers engaged in mutilating the dead bodies of the natives who had just\\nbeen killed. Three native bodies were lying near the river's edge and\\nhuman limbs were lying within a few yards from the steamer. A\",\n \"that terrible things\\nbegan to dawn upon him. Casement had travelled in 1887 in the Congo, and\\nwas surprised to note the timidity of the natives. Soon he had his\\nexplanation:\\n\\n \\\"At one of these village, S----, after confidence had been restored\\n and the fugitives had been induced to come in from the surrounding\\n forest, where they had hidden themselves, I saw women coming back,\\n carrying their babies, their household utensils, and even the food\\n they had hastily snatched up,\",\n \"administrative authorities of the\\n region.\\\"\\n\\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\\n\\n \\\"In the morning, when about to start for K----, many people from the\\n surrounding country came in to see me. They brought with them three\\n individuals who had been shockingly wounded by gun fire, two men and a\\n very small boy, not more than six years of age, and a fourth--a boy\\n child of six or seven--whose right hand was cut off at the wrist. One\\n of the men, who had been shot through the arm,\",\n \", and I don't want you to\\n do it before my eyes.' He said: 'All right, I will keep him in bonds,\\n then, until to-morrow morning when you have gone. Then I will kill\\n him.' But a few minutes afterward the sentinel came in a rage to the\\n man and shot him right before my eyes. Then he charged his rifle again\\n and pointed it at the others, who all rushed away like chaff before\\n the wind. He told a little boy, eight or nine years of age, to go and\\n cut off\",\n \"was there to preach!\\n\\nMr. Sjoblom seems to have been unable to believe at first that such deeds\\nwere done with the knowledge and approval of the whites. He ventured to\\nappeal to the Commissary. \\\"He turned in anger on me,\\\" he adds, \\\"and in the\\npresence of the soldiers said that he would expel me from the town if I\\nmeddled with matters of that kind any more.\\\"\\n\\nIt would, indeed, have been rather absurd for the Commissary to interfere\\nwhen the severed hand had actually been cut off\",\n \"he been a citizen\\nof any State. The cause I plead is too broad, and also too lofty, to be\\nsupported by any narrower appeals than those which may be addressed to all\\nhumanity. I will proceed to describe a case which occurred a few years\\nlater to show that men of other nationalities suffered as well as the\\nEnglish. Stokes, the Englishman, was killed, and his death, it was said by\\nsome Congolese apologists, was due to his not having, after his summary\\ntrial, announced that he would lodge an immediate appeal to the\",\n \"natives of a\\ncertain village which had been slow in bringing its rubber. He had carried\\nout the order. Later, his chief had put sixty women in irons, and allowed\\nnearly all of them to die of hunger because the village--Mummumbula--had\\nnot brought enough rubber. \\\"I am going to be tried,\\\" he wrote, \\\"for having\\nmurdered one hundred and fifty men, for having crucified women and\\nchildren, and for having mutilated many men and hung the remains on the\\nvillage fence.\\\" At the same moment as this confession\",\n \"when we failed and\\n our rubber was short, the soldiers came to our towns and killed us.\\n Many were shot, some had their ears cut off: others were tied up with\\n ropes around their necks and bodies and taken away. The white men\\n sometimes at the posts did not know of the bad things the soldiers did\\n to us, but it was the white men who sent the soldiers to punish us for\\n not bringing in enough rubber.'\\n\\n \\\"Here P P took up the tale from N N:\\n\\n \\\"'We said to the white men, \\\"We\"\n ],\n [\n \"agers should do their task. These are the men who are called\\n\\\"capitas,\\\" or head-men in the accounts, and who are the actual, though not\\nthe moral, perpetrators of so many horrible deeds. Imagine the nightmare\\nwhich lay upon each village while this barbarian squatted in the midst of\\nit. Day or night they could never get away from him. He called for palm\\nwine. He called for women. He beat them, mutilated them, and shot them\\ndown at his pleasure. He enforced public incest in order to amuse himself\\nby the\",\n \"named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.\\\"\\n\\nThe natives were broken in spirit by the treatment:\\n\\n \\\"One of them--a strong, indeed, a splendid-looking man--broke down and\\n wept, saying that their lives were useless to them, and that they knew\\n of no means of escape from the troubles which were gathering around\\n them. I could only assure these people that their obvious course to\\n obtain relief was by appeal to their own constituted authorities, and\\n that if their circumstances\",\n \"ly before all, pointed to his twenty\\n witnesses, placed on the table his one hundred and ten twigs, each\\n twig representing a life for rubber. 'These are chiefs' twigs, these\\n are men's, these shorter are women's, these smaller still are\\n children's.' He gives the names of scores, but begs for permission to\\n call his son as a reminder. The Commission, though, is satisfied with\\n him, that he is telling the truth, and therefore say that it is\\n unnecessary. He tells how his beard of many years\",\n \"I proceeded to look for\\n this man, who at first could not be found, the natives to a\\n considerable number gathering behind me as I walked through the town.\\n After some delay the sentry appeared, carrying a cap-gun. The boy,\\n whom I placed before him, then accused him to his face of having\\n mutilated him. The men of the town, who were questioned in\\n succession, corroborated the boy's statement. The sentry, who gave his\\n name as K K, could make no answer to the charge. He\",\n \"in the country, and the present occupant of the post was endeavouring to\\ncarry out the duties assigned to him (those duties consisting, as usual,\\nof orders to get all the rubber possible out of the people) with as much\\nhumanity as the nature of the task permitted. In this he, no doubt, did\\nwhat was possible as one whom the system had not yet degraded to its\\nlevel--one of the rare few: and one cannot wonder that they should be\\nrare, seeing the nature of the bonds, and the helplessness in which an\\nofficial is placed\",\n \"said:\\n\\n \\\"I also told them what we had seen on the Ikelemba, of the signs of\\n desolation in all the districts, of the heartrending stories the\\n people told us, of the butcheries wrought by the various white men of\\n the State and companies who had, from time to time, been stationed\\n there among whom a few names were notorious. I pointed out to them the\\n fact that the basin of the Ikelemba was supposed to be free-trade\\n territory also, but that everywhere the people\",\n \"tridges and remarked,\\n\\\"I can turn those into 25,000 pounds of rubber.\\\" Captain Lothaire believed\\nin the same trade methods, for his fighting and his output increased\\ntogether. It is worth while to slaughter one-fourth of the population if\\nthe effect is to drive the others to frenzied and unceasing work.\\n\\nNo definite details might ever have reached Europe of those doings had not\\nLothaire made the capital mistake of quarrelling with his subordinates.\\nOne of these, named Lacroix, sent a communication to\",\n \"sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods\\n to meet their share of the fine. A widow came and declared that she\\n had been forced, in order to meet her share of the fine, to sell her\\n daughter G, a little girl whom I judged from her description to be\\n about ten years of age. She had been sold to a man in Y----, who was\\n named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.\\\"\\n\\nThe natives were broken in spirit by\",\n \"dusty and malodorous; covered with insects as their huge procession\\n passes over mountains and through valleys; dying on the tramp, or,\\n when the tramp is over, going to their villages to die of exhaustion.\\\"\\n\\nIt will be remembered that Captain Lothaire, having been acquitted of the\\nmurder of Mr. Stokes, was sent out by King Leopold to act as\\nmanaging-director of the Anversoise Trust. In 1898, he arrived in the\\nMongalla District, and from then onward there\",\n \", or barrel; for the most part broken\\n down, sinking under the burdens made heavier by their weariness and\\n insufficiency of food, consisting of a handful of rice and tainted\\n dried fish; pitiful walking caryatids; beasts of burden with the lank\\n limbs of monkeys, pinched-up features, eyes fixed and round with the\\n strain of keeping their balance and the dulness of exhaustion. Thus\\n they come and go by thousands, organized in a system of human\\n transport, requisitioned by the\",\n \"it had been brought\\nunder his notice.\\n\\nMr. Scrivener, a gentleman who had been twenty-three years on the Congo,\\nwas the next witness. His evidence was largely the same as the \\\"Diary\\\"\\nfrom which I have already quoted, concerning the condition of the Crown\\nDomain. Many witnesses were examined. \\\"How do you know the names of the\\nmen murdered?\\\" a lad was asked. \\\"One of them was my father,\\\" was the\\ndramatic reply. \\\"Men of stone,\\\" wrote Mr. Scrivener, \\\"would be moved by\\nthe stories that are\",\n \"in the grass, within a few yards of\\n the house I was occupying, were numbers of human bones, in some cases\\n complete skeletons. I counted thirty-six skulls, and saw many sets of\\n bones from which the skulls were missing. I called one of the men, and\\n asked the meaning of it. 'When the rubber palaver began,' said he,\\n 'the soldiers shot so many we grew tired of burying, and very often we\\n were not allowed to bury, and so just dragged the bodies out into the\\n grass and\",\n \"\\n \\\"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\\n into this state now.\\\"\\n\\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty\",\n \"visit to the West End establishment showed that the salesmen behind\\n the counter were well-dressed and well-nourished, ignoring altogether\\n the festering misery of the sweaters' dens in which every article sold\\n over that counter was made up.\\\"\\n\\nAfter showing that the Kasai Company, in their haste for wealth (and,\\nperhaps, in their foresight, as knowing that their occupancy may be\\nbrought to an end), are cutting down the rubber vines instead of tapping\\nthem (illegal, of course, but what does that matter\",\n \"had,\\n many of them, been compelled to sell their children and their wives. I\\n saw no live-stock of any kind in W---- save a very few fowls--possibly\\n under a dozen--and it seemed, indeed, not unlikely that, as these\\n people asserted, they had great difficulty in always getting their\\n supplies ready. A father and mother stepped out and said that they had\\n been forced to sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods\\n to meet their share of the fine. A widow\",\n \"of men, women and\\nchildren killed by the sentries of a M. Pilaet.\\n\\n \\\"Last year,\\\" he says, \\\"or the year before, the young woman, Imenega,\\n was tied to a forked tree and chopped in half with a hatchet,\\n beginning at the left shoulder, chopping down through the chest and\\n abdomen and out at the side.\\\" Again, with every detail of name and\\n place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been\\n enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and\",\n \"Lomboto, Loma, Bayolo.'\\n\\n \\\"Then followed names of women and children and ordinary men (not\\n chiefs).\\n\\n \\\"Lontulu: 'May I call my son lest I make a mistake?'\\n\\n \\\"President: 'It is unnecessary; go on.'\\n\\n \\\"Lontulu: 'Bomposa, Beanda, Ekila.'\\n\\n \\\"President: 'Are you sure that each of your twigs (110) represents one\\n person killed?'\\n\\n \\\"Lontulu: 'Yes.'\\n\",\n \"They gave clearly the details of how father,\\n mother, brother, sister, son or daughter were killed in cold blood for\\n rubber. These sixteen represented over twenty murders in Esanga alone.\\n Then followed the big chief of all Bolima, who succeeded Isekifasu\\n (murdered by the A.B.I.R.). What a sight for those who prate about\\n lying missionaries! He stood boldly before all, pointed to his twenty\\n witnesses, placed on the table his one hundred and ten twigs, each\\n twig representing a life\",\n \"its are specially\\ninvited.\\n\\n\\\"The chief of the post points out the victims; they leave the ranks and\\ncome forward, for at the least attempt at flight they would be brutally\\nseized by the soldiers, struck in the face by the representative of the\\nFree State and the punishment would be doubled. Trembling and terrified,\\nthey stretch themselves face down before the captain and his colleagues;\\ntwo of their companions, sometimes four, seize them by their hands and\\nfeet and take off their waistcloth. Then, armed with a lash of\\nhippopotam\",\n \"by\\n the sentinels. According to the witnesses these auxiliaries,\\n especially those stationed in the villages, abuse the authority\\n conferred upon them, convert themselves into DESPOTS, CLAIMING THE\\n WOMEN AND THE FOOD, NOT ONLY FOR THEMSELVES BUT FOR THE BODY OF\\n PARASITES AND CREATURES WITHOUT ANY CALLING WHICH A LOVE OF RAPINE\\n CAUSES TO BECOME ASSOCIATED WITH THEM, AND WITH WHOM THEY SUR\"\n ],\n [\n \"named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.\\\"\\n\\nThe natives were broken in spirit by the treatment:\\n\\n \\\"One of them--a strong, indeed, a splendid-looking man--broke down and\\n wept, saying that their lives were useless to them, and that they knew\\n of no means of escape from the troubles which were gathering around\\n them. I could only assure these people that their obvious course to\\n obtain relief was by appeal to their own constituted authorities, and\\n that if their circumstances\",\n \"\\\"One asks oneself in vain what benefits these people have gained from\\n the boasted civilization of the Free State. One looks in vain for any\\n attempt to benefit them or to recompense them in any way for the\\n enormous wealth which they are helping to pour into the Treasury of\\n the State. Their native industries are being destroyed, their freedom\\n has been taken from them, and their numbers are decreasing.\\n\\n \\\"The only efforts made to civilize them have been made by the\\n missionaries, who are hampered at every turn.\\\"\\n\\nConsul The\",\n \"their means of existence.\\\" Such are the words of 1886. Before the end of\\n1887, an Act had been published, though not immediately put into force,\\nwhich had the exactly opposite effect. By this Act all lands which were\\nnot actually occupied by natives were proclaimed to be the property of the\\nState. Consider for a moment what this meant! No land in such a country is\\nactually occupied by natives save the actual site of their villages, and\\nthe scanty fields of grain or manioc which surround them. Everywhere\\nbeyond these tiny patches\",\n \"what had been but recently the condition of the\\n place.... Soon we began talking, and, without any encouragement on my\\n part, they began the tales I had become so accustomed to. They were\\n living in peace and quietness when the white men came in from the Lake\\n with all sorts of requests to do this and to do that, and they thought\\n it meant slavery. So they attempted to keep the white men out of their\\n country, but without avail. The rifles were too much for them. So they\\n submitted, and made up their minds to do\",\n \" order to force the natives to furnish them with produce and to work\\n for the Company, as also to pursue as rebels and outlaws those who\\n sought to escape from the requisitions imposed upon them.... That,\\n above all, the fact that the arrest of women and their detention, to\\n compel the villages to furnish both produce and workmen, was tolerated\\n and admitted even by certain of the administrative authorities of the\\n region.\\\"\\n\\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\\n\\n \\\"In the morning, when about\",\n \"assigned to\\nthis malady. The natives certainly attribute their alarming death-rate to\\nthis as one of the inducing causes, although they attribute, and I think\\nprincipally, their rapid decrease in numbers to other causes as well.\\\"\\n\\nThe Government work shop \\\"was brightness, care, order, and activity, and\\nit was impossible not to admire and commend the industry which had created\\nand maintained in constant working order this useful establishment.\\\"\\n\\nThese are not the words of a critic who has started with a prejudiced mind\\nor the desire to make out a case.\\n\\n\",\n \"the result of my journey through this portion of the country, I am\\n forced to the conclusion that the condition of the people in the\\n A.B.I.R. territory _is deplorable_, and although those living in the\\n vicinity of the mission stations are, comparatively speaking, safe\\n from ill-treatment by the rubber agents and their armed sentries,\\n those in other parts are subjected to the gravest abuses.\\n\\n \\\"There is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a\\n totally inadequate wage. In\",\n \"degrees\\nthat he sank to the depths which will be shown. This view is borne out by\\nsome of the earlier edicts of the State. In 1886, a long pronouncement\\nupon native lands ended by the words: \\\"All acts or agreements are\\nforbidden which tend to the expulsion of natives from the territory they\\noccupy, or to deprive them, directly or indirectly, of their liberty or\\ntheir means of existence.\\\" Such are the words of 1886. Before the end of\\n1887, an Act had been published\",\n \"and\\n active.\\\"\\n\\nIn 1903 there were 600 people surviving.\\n\\nIn 1894 Ikoko in the Crown Domain began to feel the effects of \\\"moral and\\nmaterial regeneration.\\\" On May 30th of that year Mr. Clark writes:\\n\\n \\\"Owing to trouble with the State the Irebo people fled and left their\\n homes. Yesterday the State soldiers shot a sick man who had not\\n attempted to run away, and others have been killed by the State\\n (native) soldiers, who, in the\",\n \"ir conditions of living are deplorable_, and the filth and\\n squalor of their villages is only too apparent. _The people live in a\\n state of uncertainty as to the advent of police officers and soldiers,\\n who invariably chase them from their abodes and destroy their huts,\\n and for this reason it is impossible for them to better their\\n condition of living by the construction of suitable dwellings._\\n\\n \\\"_No change of system to be looked for._\\n\\n \\\"No change in the existing system can be looked for until a more\\n reasonable method of\",\n \"of the women have babies, but they go\\n to work just the same. They form, indeed, a miserable spectacle, and\\n one wonders that old women, although prisoners of war, should not\\n receive a little more consideration; at least, their nakedness might\\n be hidden. The men prisoners are treated in a far better way.\\\"\\n\\nDescribing the natives he says:\\n\\n \\\"The natives are not lazy, good-for-nothing fellows. Their fine powers\\n are obtained by hard work, sobriety and frugal living.\\\"\\n\\nHe\",\n \"gave\\nand that their condition has been more miserable than ever. The final\\npractical result of the Commission was that upon the natives, and not upon\\ntheir murderers, came the punishment.\\n\\nM. Malfeyt, a Royal High Commissioner, had been sent out on pretence of\\nreform. How hollow was this pretence may be seen from the fact that at the\\nsame time M. Wahis had been despatched as Governor-General in place of\\nthat Constermann who had committed suicide after his interview with the\\njudges of the Commission. Wah\",\n \"on his way, and that I was sure he would\\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\\\"\\n\\nIt is terrible to think that such a promise, through no fault of Mr.\\nHarris, has not been fulfilled. Are the dreams of the Commissioners never\\nhaunted by the thought of those who put such trust in them, but whose only\\nreward has been that they have been punished for the evidence they gave\\nand that their condition has been more miserable than ever. The final\\npractical result of the Commission was that upon the natives, and not\",\n \"to verify the exactitude of the\\n allegations made before it, the more so that the facts were often\\n several years old. However, TRUTH OF THE CHARGES IS BORNE OUT BY A\\n MASS OF EVIDENCE AND OFFICIAL REPORTS.\\\"\\n\\nIt adds:\\n\\n \\\"OF HOW MANY ABUSES HAVE THESE NATIVE SENTINELS BEEN GUILTY IT WOULD\\n BE IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY, EVEN APPROXIMATELY. SEVERAL CHIE\",\n \"played a noble\\npart throughout in endeavouring within their very limited powers to shield\\nthe natives from their tormentors. In both cases, and also in that of Mrs.\\nHarris, this had been done at the repeated risk of their lives. Their\\nwhite neighbours of the rubber factories made their lives miserable also\\nby preventing their receipt of food from the natives, and harassing them\\nin various ways. On one occasion a chief and his son were both murdered by\\nthe order of the white agent because they had supplied the Harris\\nhousehold with the fore-quarter of\",\n \", paid 200 per cent.\\n\\nFour natives had been tortured until they cried out for some one to bring\\na gun and shoot them.\\n\\nThe chiefs died because their hearts were broken.\\n\\nMr. Gamman knew no village where it took them less than ten days out of\\nfifteen to satisfy the demands of the A.B.I.R. As a rule, the people had\\nfour days in a month to themselves. By law the maximum of forced labour\\nwas forty hours in a month. But, as I have said, there is no relation at\\nall\",\n \"the\\nMissions to the Red Indians of the eighteenth century, can forget the\\npicture of unselfish devotion which they exhibit. Father Vermeersch, a\\nworthy successor of such predecessors, has published a book, \\\"La Question\\nCongolaise,\\\" in which he finds nothing incompatible between his position\\nas a Catholic and his exposure of the abuses of the Congo.\\n\\nIn all points the position of Father Vermeersch and of the English\\nReformers appears to be identical.\\n\\nOn the rightful possession of the land by the natives he writes in\",\n \"est abuses.\\n\\n \\\"There is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a\\n totally inadequate wage. In visiting the various rubber-working towns,\\n one would expect to see some signs of European commodities that had\\n been given in exchange for the millions of pounds' worth of rubber\\n that has been extracted from them, but the native residents possess\\n actually nothing at all.\\n\\n \\\"_Their conditions of living are deplorable_, and the filth and\\n squalor of their villages is only too apparent. _The people live in\",\n \",\\n the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured\\n me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to\\n a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.\\\"\\n\\nAgain I insert a passage to show that Casement was by no means an\\nill-natured critic:\\n\\n \\\"It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R.\\n Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult\\n and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as\",\n \"and after this was set aside the natives had nothing\\n but leaves to eat.\\\"\\n\\nAlso, that fines, which the Commission at once declared to be illegal,\\nwere constantly levied on the people, and that these fines had continued\\nafter the matter had been reported to the Governor-General. In spite of\\nthis declaration of illegality, no steps were taken in the matter, and M.\\nde Bauw, the chief offender, was by last accounts the supreme executive\\nofficial of the district. At every turn one finds that there is no\\nrelation at all between law\"\n ],\n [\n \"was won over to advancing ten\\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\\nsprang up which has eventually led to annexation. At the time of this loan\\nKing Leopold let it be known that he had left the Congo Free State in his\\nwill to Belgium. In this document appear the words, \\\"A young and spacious\\nState, directed from Brussels, has pacifically appeared in the sunlight,\\nthanks to the benevolent support of the Powers that have welcomed its\\nappearance. Some Belgians administer it, while others\",\n \"Grey declared that we\\n\\\"could not wait forever,\\\" and yet we see that he is waiting still. In 1908\\nthe long looked-for annexation came at last, and the Congo State exchanged\\nthe blue flag with the golden star for the tricolour of Belgium. Immediate\\nand radical reforms were promised, but the matter ended as all previous\\npromises have done. In 1909 M. Renkin, the Belgian Colonial Minister, went\\nout to inspect the Congo State, and had the frankness before going to say\\nthat nothing would be\",\n \"was destined to crush out all general private trade in\\na country as large as the whole of Europe with Russia omitted. That was\\nthe admitted outcome of their enterprise. Now listen to M. Beernaert, the\\nBelgian Premier, speaking in the year 1885:\\n\\n \\\"The State, of which our King will be the Sovereign, will be a sort of\\n international Colony. There will be no monopolies, no privileges....\\n Quite the contrary: absolute freedom of commerce, freedom of property,\\n freedom of navigation.\\\"\\n\\n\",\n \", therefore, since whatever happens must be\\nfor the better.\\n\\nCan a solution be found through Belgium?\\n\\nNo, it is impossible, and that should be recognized from the outset. The\\nBelgians have been given their chance. They have had nearly twenty-five\\nyears of undisturbed possession, and they have made it a hell upon earth.\\nThey cannot disassociate themselves from this work or pretend that it was\\ndone by a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital,\",\n \"the admissions of the Belgian\\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by\",\n \"that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\\nAugust 10th, 1908. But responsibility cannot be so easily shaken off. The\\nCongo State was founded by the Belgian King, and exploited by Belgian\\ncapital, Belgian soldiers and Belgian concessionnaires. It was defended\\nand upheld by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles\",\n \", which will take another year\\nto produce, and will be utterly futile when reduced to practice. But the\\nworld has seen this game too often. Surely it will not be made a fool of\\nagain. There is some limit to European patience.\\n\\nMeanwhile, in this very month of August, 1909, a full year after the\\nannexation by Belgium (an annexation, be it mentioned, which will not be\\nofficially recognized by Great Britain until she is satisfied in the\\nmatter of reforms), Prince Albert, the heir to the throne,\",\n \".\\n\\nAnd what shall that action be? War with Belgium? On them must rest the\\nresponsibility for that. Our measures must be directed against the Congo\\nState, which has not yet been recognized by us as being a possession of\\nBelgium. If Belgium take up the quarrel then so be it. There are many ways\\nin which we can bring the Congo State to her knees. A blockade of the\\nCongo is one, but it has the objection of the international complications\\nwhich might ensue. An easier way would be to proclaim this guilty land as\\nan out\",\n \"did not ask and desire their co-operation.\\n\\nFrom this date remonstrances were frequent from the British Government,\\nthough they inadequately represented the anger and impatience of those\\nBritish subjects who were aware of the true state of affairs. The British\\nGovernment refrained from going to extremes because it was understood that\\nthere would shortly be a Belgian annexation, and it was hoped that this\\nwould mark the beginning of better things without the necessity for our\\nintervention. Delay followed delay, and nothing was done. A Liberal\\nGovernment was as\",\n \"If immediately upon taking over the State they had\\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\\nwith power to punish for all past offences, and to examine all the\\nscandals of recent years, then they would have done something to clear the\\npast. If on the top of that they had freed the land, given up the system\\nof forced labour entirely, and cancelled the charters of all the\\nconcessionnaire companies, for the obvious reason that they have\\nnotoriously abused their powers, then Belgium could go forward in its\\ncolonizing enterprise on the\",\n \"a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital, and was endorsed and\\ndefended by Belgian governments. It is out of the question that Belgium\\nshould remain on the Congo.\\n\\nNor, in face of reform, would Belgium wish to be there. She could not\\ncarry the burden. When the country is restored to its inhabitants together\\nwith their freedom, it will be in the same position as those German and\\nEnglish colonies which entail heavy annual expenditure from the mother\\n\",\n \"oulded.\\n\\nIn the meantime King Leopold, feeling the weakness of his personal\\nposition in face of the great enterprise which lay before him in Africa,\\nendeavoured more and more to draw Belgium, as a State, into the matter.\\nAlready the Congo State was largely the outcome of Belgian work and of\\nBelgian money, but, theoretically, there was no connection between the two\\ncountries. Now the Belgian Parliament was won over to advancing ten\\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\\nsprang up which has eventually\",\n \"this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all the honours\\nof war. M. de Favereau, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, alternately\\nexplained that there was no connection at all between Belgium and the\\nCongo State, and that it was a breach of Belgian patriotism to attack the\\nlatter. The policy of the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which\",\n \"claimed to belong, not to the\\ninhabitants, but to the State--that is, to King Leopold.\\n\\nWith this sheaf of treaties in his portfolio the King of the Belgians now\\napproached the Powers with high sentiments of humanitarianism, and with a\\ndefinite request that the State which he was forming should receive some\\nrecognized status among the nations. Was he at that time consciously\\nhypocritical? Did he already foresee how widely his future actions would\\ndiffer from his present professions? It is a problem which will interest\\n\",\n \"held by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles, it is an insult to\\ncommon sense to suppose that the responsibility for the Congo has not\\nalways rested with Belgium. The Belgian machinery was always ready to help\\nand defend the State, but never to hold it in control and restrain it from\\ncrime.\\n\\nOne chance Belgium had. If immediately upon taking over the State they had\\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\\nwith power to punish for all\",\n \"\\nthem, or it; and the ship can be confiscated without prejudice to any\\nsubsequent proceedings.\\\"\\n\\nThe sight of these insignificant lieutenants and captains, who are often\\nnon-commissioned officers of the Belgian army, issuing proclamations which\\nwere in distinct contradiction to the expressed will of all the great\\nPowers of the world, might at the time have seemed ludicrous; but the\\nhistory of the next seventeen years was to prove that a small malignant\\nforce, driven on by greed, may prove to\",\n \"raiders. Then, along all the lines of the rivers, posts\\nwere being formed and stations established--some by the State and some by\\nthe various concessionnaire companies for the development of their\\ncommerce.\\n\\nIn the meantime, the State was tightening its grip upon the land with its\\nproducts, and was working up the system which was destined to produce such\\ngrim results in the near future. The independent traders were discouraged\\nand stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\",\n \"il y a intérêt à rendre publics seront\\ninsérés au _Bulletin Officiel_.\\\" Already it is clear that something was in\\nthe wind which might shock the rather leathery conscience of a European\\nConcert. Meanwhile, the organization of the State went forward. A\\nGovernor-General was elected, who should live at Boma, which was made the\\ncapital. Under him were fifteen District Commissaries, who should govern\\nso many districts into which the whole country was divided. The only\\nport\",\n \"o State of\\nwhich these particular companies are merely an outcome. Until it is swept\\nfrom the map there is no hope for the country. You cannot avoid the rank\\nproducts while the putridity remains.\\n\\nThe next document bearing upon the question is from the Rev. H. M.\\nWhiteside, from the notorious A.B.I.R. district. I give it in full, that\\nthe reader may judge for himself how far the direct Belgian rule has\\naltered the situation.\\n\\n \\\"I should like to bring to your notice a few facts regarding the\\n condition\",\n \", Holland,\\nhad the sagacity to appreciate the true situation, and the independence to\\nshow its dissatisfaction. The outcome of the sittings was various\\nphilanthropic resolutions intended to strengthen the new State in dealing\\nwith that slave trade it was destined to re-introduce in its most odious\\nform. We are too near to these events, and they are too painfully\\nintimate, to permit us to see humour in them; but the historian of the\\nfuture, when he reads that the object of the European Concert was \\\"to\\nprotect effectually the\"\n ],\n [\n \"the admissions of the Belgian\\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by\",\n \"did not ask and desire their co-operation.\\n\\nFrom this date remonstrances were frequent from the British Government,\\nthough they inadequately represented the anger and impatience of those\\nBritish subjects who were aware of the true state of affairs. The British\\nGovernment refrained from going to extremes because it was understood that\\nthere would shortly be a Belgian annexation, and it was hoped that this\\nwould mark the beginning of better things without the necessity for our\\nintervention. Delay followed delay, and nothing was done. A Liberal\\nGovernment was as\",\n \"Times_, November 18, 1895), agrees with the other:\\n\\n \\\"I have seen these things done,\\\" he said, \\\"and have remonstrated with\\n the State in the years 1888, 1889, and 1894, but never got\\n satisfaction. I have been in the interior and have seen the ravages\\n made by the State in pursuit of this iniquitous trade. Let me give an\\n incident to show how this unrighteous trade affects the people. One\\n day a State corporal\",\n \"and\\n active.\\\"\\n\\nIn 1903 there were 600 people surviving.\\n\\nIn 1894 Ikoko in the Crown Domain began to feel the effects of \\\"moral and\\nmaterial regeneration.\\\" On May 30th of that year Mr. Clark writes:\\n\\n \\\"Owing to trouble with the State the Irebo people fled and left their\\n homes. Yesterday the State soldiers shot a sick man who had not\\n attempted to run away, and others have been killed by the State\\n (native) soldiers, who, in the\",\n \"administrative authorities of the\\n region.\\\"\\n\\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\\n\\n \\\"In the morning, when about to start for K----, many people from the\\n surrounding country came in to see me. They brought with them three\\n individuals who had been shockingly wounded by gun fire, two men and a\\n very small boy, not more than six years of age, and a fourth--a boy\\n child of six or seven--whose right hand was cut off at the wrist. One\\n of the men, who had been shot through the arm,\",\n \"Grey declared that we\\n\\\"could not wait forever,\\\" and yet we see that he is waiting still. In 1908\\nthe long looked-for annexation came at last, and the Congo State exchanged\\nthe blue flag with the golden star for the tricolour of Belgium. Immediate\\nand radical reforms were promised, but the matter ended as all previous\\npromises have done. In 1909 M. Renkin, the Belgian Colonial Minister, went\\nout to inspect the Congo State, and had the frankness before going to say\\nthat nothing would be\",\n \"had been held up as a step toward improvement. The\\nBritish Government had been assured that his visit would be of a nature to\\neffect all necessary reforms. On arriving in the country, however, he\\nannounced that he had no power to act, and only came to see and hear. Thus\\na few more months were gained before any change could be effected. The\\nonly small consolation which we can draw from all this succession of\\nimpotent ambassadors and reforming committees, which do not, and were\\nnever intended to, reform, is that the game has\",\n \"raiders. Then, along all the lines of the rivers, posts\\nwere being formed and stations established--some by the State and some by\\nthe various concessionnaire companies for the development of their\\ncommerce.\\n\\nIn the meantime, the State was tightening its grip upon the land with its\\nproducts, and was working up the system which was destined to produce such\\ngrim results in the near future. The independent traders were discouraged\\nand stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\",\n \"their means of existence.\\\" Such are the words of 1886. Before the end of\\n1887, an Act had been published, though not immediately put into force,\\nwhich had the exactly opposite effect. By this Act all lands which were\\nnot actually occupied by natives were proclaimed to be the property of the\\nState. Consider for a moment what this meant! No land in such a country is\\nactually occupied by natives save the actual site of their villages, and\\nthe scanty fields of grain or manioc which surround them. Everywhere\\nbeyond these tiny patches\",\n \"and after this was set aside the natives had nothing\\n but leaves to eat.\\\"\\n\\nAlso, that fines, which the Commission at once declared to be illegal,\\nwere constantly levied on the people, and that these fines had continued\\nafter the matter had been reported to the Governor-General. In spite of\\nthis declaration of illegality, no steps were taken in the matter, and M.\\nde Bauw, the chief offender, was by last accounts the supreme executive\\nofficial of the district. At every turn one finds that there is no\\nrelation at all between law\",\n \"who acquiesced\\nin it by their silence), I have marshalled witnesses in their successive\\norder. Messrs. Glave, Murphy and Sjoblom have covered the time from 1894\\nto 1897; Mr. Clark has carried it on to 1900; we have had the deeds of\\n1901-4 as revealed in the Boma Law Courts. I shall now give the experience\\nof Rev. Mr. Scrivener, an English missionary, who in July, August and\\nSeptember, 1903\",\n \", which will take another year\\nto produce, and will be utterly futile when reduced to practice. But the\\nworld has seen this game too often. Surely it will not be made a fool of\\nagain. There is some limit to European patience.\\n\\nMeanwhile, in this very month of August, 1909, a full year after the\\nannexation by Belgium (an annexation, be it mentioned, which will not be\\nofficially recognized by Great Britain until she is satisfied in the\\nmatter of reforms), Prince Albert, the heir to the throne,\",\n \"shoot more, and reprimanding him for not killing more\\nthan one man in a district under his care where there was a little\\ntrouble.\\n\\nMr. Scrivener had the opportunity while at this State post, under the\\n_régime_ of a man who was endeavouring to be as humane as his instructions\\nallowed, to actually see the process whereby the secret revenues of the\\n\\\"Crown Domain\\\" are obtained. He says:\\n\\n \\\"Everything was on a military basis, but, so far as I could see, the\\n \",\n \"this I passed on to the imprisonment of men, women\\n and children. Following this I called attention to the destruction of\\n the Baringa towns and the partial famine among the people in\\n consequence. Also the large gangs of prisoners--men, women and\\n children--imprisoned to carry out this work; the murder of two men\\n whilst it was being done. Next followed the irregularities during\\n 1903. The expedition conducted by an A.B.I.R. agent against\\n Samb'ekota, and the arming continually of A\",\n \"saw an\\noutrage. No doubt he had formed the opinion that his brethren had been\\nexaggerating. Then one day he heard an outburst of firing, and turned his\\nlittle steamer to the spot. This is what he saw: \\\"They were horrified to\\nfind the native soldiers of the Government under the eyes of their white\\nofficers engaged in mutilating the dead bodies of the natives who had just\\nbeen killed. Three native bodies were lying near the river's edge and\\nhuman limbs were lying within a few yards from the steamer. A\",\n \"eight years old, with a few girls among the batch, all stolen from the\\n natives. The Commissary of the district is a violent-tempered fellow.\\n While arranging to take on the hundred small slaves a woman who had\\n charge of the youngsters was rather slow in understanding his order,\\n delivered in very poor Kabanji. He sprang at her, slapped her in the\\n face, and as she ran away, kicked her. They talk of philanthropy and\\n civilization! Where it is, I do not know.\\\"\\n\\nAnd again:\\n\",\n \"subject.\\n\\n_Le Patriote_, of Brussels (Royalist and Catholic), in its issue of\\nFebruary 28th, 1907, has an indignant editorial:\\n\\n \\\"The rebellion in the A.B.I.R. territory extends. The Government\\n itself forces the rubber, and delivers it on the Antwerp quay to the\\n brokers of the A.B.I.R.... Nothing is altered on the Congo. The same\\n abominable measures are adopted; the same outrages take place....\",\n \" order to force the natives to furnish them with produce and to work\\n for the Company, as also to pursue as rebels and outlaws those who\\n sought to escape from the requisitions imposed upon them.... That,\\n above all, the fact that the arrest of women and their detention, to\\n compel the villages to furnish both produce and workmen, was tolerated\\n and admitted even by certain of the administrative authorities of the\\n region.\\\"\\n\\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\\n\\n \\\"In the morning, when about\",\n \"a sick man who had not\\n attempted to run away, and others have been killed by the State\\n (native) soldiers, who, in the absence of a white man, do as they\\n please.\\\"\\n\\nIn November, 1894:\\n\\n \\\"At Ikoko quite a number of people have been killed by the soldiers,\\n and most of the others are living in the bush.\\\"\\n\\nIn the same month he complained officially to Commissaire Fievez:\\n\\n \\\"If you do not come soon and stop the present trouble the towns will\\n be empty\",\n \"the Commissary as prisoners. At the\\n beginning they came with their smoked hands. The sentinels, or else\\n the boys in attendance on them, put these hands on a little kiln, and\\n after they had been smoked, they by and by put them on the top of the\\n rubber baskets. I have on many occasions seen this done.\\\"\\n\\nThen we read in the latest State papers of the Belgian diplomatists that\\nthey propose to continue the beneficent and civilizing work which they\\nhave inherited.\\n\\nYet another paragraph from Mr.\"\n ],\n [\n \"held by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles, it is an insult to\\ncommon sense to suppose that the responsibility for the Congo has not\\nalways rested with Belgium. The Belgian machinery was always ready to help\\nand defend the State, but never to hold it in control and restrain it from\\ncrime.\\n\\nOne chance Belgium had. If immediately upon taking over the State they had\\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\\nwith power to punish for all\",\n \", therefore, since whatever happens must be\\nfor the better.\\n\\nCan a solution be found through Belgium?\\n\\nNo, it is impossible, and that should be recognized from the outset. The\\nBelgians have been given their chance. They have had nearly twenty-five\\nyears of undisturbed possession, and they have made it a hell upon earth.\\nThey cannot disassociate themselves from this work or pretend that it was\\ndone by a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital,\",\n \"did not ask and desire their co-operation.\\n\\nFrom this date remonstrances were frequent from the British Government,\\nthough they inadequately represented the anger and impatience of those\\nBritish subjects who were aware of the true state of affairs. The British\\nGovernment refrained from going to extremes because it was understood that\\nthere would shortly be a Belgian annexation, and it was hoped that this\\nwould mark the beginning of better things without the necessity for our\\nintervention. Delay followed delay, and nothing was done. A Liberal\\nGovernment was as\",\n \"the admissions of the Belgian\\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by\",\n \"stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\\nsources. Everywhere, in flagrant disregard of the Treaty of Berlin, the\\nState proclaimed itself to be the sole landlord and the sole trader. In\\nsome cases it worked its own so-called property, in other cases it leased\\nit. Even those who had striven to help King Leopold in the earlier stages\\nof his enterprise were thrown overboard. Major Parminter, himself engaged\\nin trade upon the Cong\",\n \"the palisades in the\\n form of a cross.\\\"\\n\\nIn the face of these fresh revelations there was an outburst of feeling in\\nBelgium, showing that it is only their ignorance of the true facts which\\nprevents the inhabitants of that country from showing the same humanity as\\nany other civilized nation would do. They have not yet realized the foul\\nthings which have been done in their name. Surely when they do realize it\\nthere will be a terrible reckoning! Some were already very alive to the\\nquestion. MM. Vandervelde and Lorand fought br\",\n \"fond of advancing will find it hard to reconcile the difference. Lord\\nCromer ends his report:\\n\\n \\\"It appears to me that the facts which I have stated above afford\\n amply sufficient evidence of the spirit which animates the Belgian\\n Administration, if, indeed, Administration it can be called. The\\n Government, so far as I could judge, is conducted almost exclusively\\n on commercial principles, and, even judged by that standard, it would\\n appear that those principles are somewhat short-sighted.\\\"\\n\\nIn the same White Book which contains these documents\",\n \"to the Palace at Brussels. M.\\nWahis, the Governor-General, a man who has played a sinister part in the\\ncountry, came up the river and endeavoured to get the outspoken Swede to\\ncontradict himself, or, failing that, to intimidate him. To get at the\\ntruth or to right the wrong seems to have been the last thing in his mind,\\nfor he knew well that the wrong was essential to the system, and that\\nwithout it the wheels would move more slowly and the head engineer in\\nEurope would soon wish to know what\",\n \"of the\\nprovisions of the Berlin Congress. Two only will suffice, as they are at\\nthe same time the most important and the most flagrantly abused. The first\\nof these (which forms the fifth article of the agreement) proclaims that\\n\\\"No Power which exercises sovereign rights in the said regions shall be\\nallowed to grant therein either monopoly or privilege of any kind in\\ncommercial matters.\\\" No words could be clearer than that, but the Belgian\\nrepresentatives, conscious that such a clause must disarm all opposition,\\nwent out of their way\",\n \"If immediately upon taking over the State they had\\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\\nwith power to punish for all past offences, and to examine all the\\nscandals of recent years, then they would have done something to clear the\\npast. If on the top of that they had freed the land, given up the system\\nof forced labour entirely, and cancelled the charters of all the\\nconcessionnaire companies, for the obvious reason that they have\\nnotoriously abused their powers, then Belgium could go forward in its\\ncolonizing enterprise on the\",\n \"this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all the honours\\nof war. M. de Favereau, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, alternately\\nexplained that there was no connection at all between Belgium and the\\nCongo State, and that it was a breach of Belgian patriotism to attack the\\nlatter. The policy of the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which\",\n \"Belgian, does not\\nlike work when it is work which brings a benefit to others and none to\\nhimself.\\n\\nBut in spite of this preamble, the Commission cannot escape the actual\\nfacts.\\n\\n \\\"Numbers of agents only thought of one thing: to obtain as MUCH AS\\n POSSIBLE IN THE SHORTEST POSSIBLE TIME, and their demands were often\\n excessive. This IS NOT AT ALL ASTONISHING, AT ANY RATE AS REGARDS THE\\n GATHERING OF THE PRODUCE OF THE DOMAIN\",\n \"\\nthem, or it; and the ship can be confiscated without prejudice to any\\nsubsequent proceedings.\\\"\\n\\nThe sight of these insignificant lieutenants and captains, who are often\\nnon-commissioned officers of the Belgian army, issuing proclamations which\\nwere in distinct contradiction to the expressed will of all the great\\nPowers of the world, might at the time have seemed ludicrous; but the\\nhistory of the next seventeen years was to prove that a small malignant\\nforce, driven on by greed, may prove to\",\n \"the sunlight,\\nthanks to the benevolent support of the Powers that have welcomed its\\nappearance. Some Belgians administer it, while others, each day more\\nnumerous, there increase their wealth.\\\" So he flashed the gold before the\\neyes of his European subjects. Verily, if King Leopold deceived other\\nPowers, he reserved the most dangerous of all his deceits for his own\\ncountry. The day on which they turned from their own honest, healthy\\ndevelopment to follow the Congo lure, and to administer without any\\nprevious colonial experience a country more than\",\n \"was destined to crush out all general private trade in\\na country as large as the whole of Europe with Russia omitted. That was\\nthe admitted outcome of their enterprise. Now listen to M. Beernaert, the\\nBelgian Premier, speaking in the year 1885:\\n\\n \\\"The State, of which our King will be the Sovereign, will be a sort of\\n international Colony. There will be no monopolies, no privileges....\\n Quite the contrary: absolute freedom of commerce, freedom of property,\\n freedom of navigation.\\\"\\n\\n\",\n \" '_contrainte par corps_' (bodily detention) during the month has to be\\n furnished in duplicate, the book signed, and one of the copies\\n transmitted to the Government.\\\"\\n\\nWhilst these organized outrages were continuing in the Congo, King\\nLeopold, at Belgium, had taken a fresh step, which, in its cynical\\ndisregard for any attempt at consistency, surpassed any of his previous\\nperformances. Feeling that something must be done in the face of the\\nfinding of his own delegates, he appointed a\",\n \"naire companies, for the obvious reason that they have\\nnotoriously abused their powers, then Belgium could go forward in its\\ncolonizing enterprise on the same terms as other States, with her sins\\nexpiated so far as expiation is now possible.\\n\\nShe did none of these things. For a year now she has herself persevered in\\nthe evil ways of her predecessor. Her colony is a scandal before the whole\\nworld. The era of murders and mutilations has, as we hope, passed by, but\\nthe country is sunk into a state of cowed\",\n \"as bad, and that we do not interfere._\\n\\nThe French Colonial system has usually been excellent, and there is,\\ntherefore, every reason to believe that this one result of evil example\\nwill soon be amended. There, at least, we have no Treaty obligation to\\ninterfere.\\n\\n3.--_That the English agitation is due to jealousy of Belgian success._\\n\\nWe do not look upon it as success, but the most stupendous failure in\\nhistory. What is there to be jealous of? Is it the making of money? But we\",\n \"raiders. Then, along all the lines of the rivers, posts\\nwere being formed and stations established--some by the State and some by\\nthe various concessionnaire companies for the development of their\\ncommerce.\\n\\nIn the meantime, the State was tightening its grip upon the land with its\\nproducts, and was working up the system which was destined to produce such\\ngrim results in the near future. The independent traders were discouraged\\nand stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\",\n \"His\\n Majesty's Government to confer with the other Powers, signatories of\\n the Berlin General Act, by virtue of which the Congo Free State\\n exists, in order that measures may be adopted to abate the evils\\n prevalent in that State.\\\"\\n\\nIn July of the same year there occurred the famous three days' debate in\\nthe Belgian House, which was really inaugurated by the British resolution.\\nIn this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all\"\n ],\n [\n \".\\n\\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\\n\\n Windlesham, Crowborough,\\n September, 1909.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCONTENTS\\n\\n\\n PAGE\\n\\n Preface iii\\n\\n Introduction vii\\n\\n How the Congo Free State Came to be Founded 3\\n\\n The Development of the Congo State 9\\n\\n The Working of the System 22\\n\\n First Fruits of the System 27\\n\\n Further\",\n \" GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIME OF THE CONGO ***\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nProduced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed\\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\\nproduced from images generously made available by The\\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nTHE CRIME OF THE CONGO\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Crime of the Congo\\n\\n\\n By A. Conan Doyle\\n\\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc\",\n \"possible.\\\"\\n\\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\\n\\n \\\"Everywhere,\\\" he said, \\\"I hear the same news of the doings of the\\n Congo Free State--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. It is\\n said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... In Europe we\\n understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel\\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\\\"\\n\\nOn\",\n \"a grand\\nsight to see the banner of humanity and civilization carried forward in\\nsuch a cause by the two great English-speaking nations.\\n\\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nINTRODUCTION\\n\\n\\nI am convinced that the reason why public opinion has not been more\\nsensitive upon the question of the Congo Free State, is that the terrible\\nstory has not been brought thoroughly home to the people. Mr. E. D. Morel\\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\\nstruggled hard with very\",\n \"a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 1885 a State is formed for the \\\"moral and\\nmaterial improvement of the native races.\\\" In 1903 the native \\\"is not\\nentitled to anything.\\\" The two phrases mark the beginning and the end of\\nKing Leopold's journey.\\n\\nIn 1904 the British Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\\nof Consul Casement.\",\n \"the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\\n\\\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 188\",\n \"driven him to his death, and by the\\nlast reports neither his relatives nor his creditors have received any\\nportion of this large sum. Consider the whole story and say if it is\\nexaggeration to state that Gustav Maria Rabinck was robbed and murdered by\\nthe Congo Free State.\\n\\nHaving shown in these two examples the way in which the Congo Free State\\nhas dared to treat the citizens of European States who have traded within\\nher borders, I will now proceed to detail, in chronological order, some\\naccount of the dark story of that State's relations\",\n \" COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, 1909\\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY A. CONAN DOYLE\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nPREFACE\\n\\n\\nThere are many of us in England who consider the crime which has been\\nwrought in the Congo lands by King Leopold of Belgium and his followers to\\nbe the greatest which has ever been known in human annals. Personally I am\\nstrongly of that opinion. There have been great expropriations\",\n \"I\\n\\nHOW THE CONGO FREE STATE CAME TO BE FOUNDED\\n\\n\\nIn the earlier years of his reign King Leopold of Belgium began to display\\nthat interest in Central Africa which for a long time was ascribed to\\nnobility and philanthropy, until the contrast between such motives, and\\nthe actual unscrupulous commercialism, became too glaring to be sustained.\\nAs far back as the year 1876 he called a conference of humanitarians and\\ntravellers, who met at Brussels for the purpose of debating various plans\\nby which\",\n \", is really a part of the design of the vile institution which\\naims at debasing the black in order to be able to use him and abuse him\\nwithout fear.\\\"--\\\"Le Régime Congolais,\\\" Liége, Lefranc.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's The Crime of the Congo, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle\\n\\n\",\n \"ceived by the general public from the Congo Free State concerned the\\nfounding of new stations, and the idea prevailed that King Leopold's\\nenterprise was indeed working out upon the humanitarian lines which had\\nbeen originally planned. Then, for the first time, incidents occurred\\nwhich gave some glimpse of the violence and anarchy which really\\nprevailed.\\n\\nThe first of these, so far as Great Britain is concerned, lay in the\\ntreatment of natives from Sierra Leone, Lagos, and other British\\nSettlements, who had been engaged by the Belgians to\",\n \", first, Great Britain\\nand the Congo State; secondly, Great Britain and Belgium. In each case\\nGreat Britain was, indeed, the spokesman of the civilized world.\\n\\nSo far as one can trace, no strong protest was raised by the British\\nGovernment at the time when the Congo State took the fatal step, the\\ndirect cause of everything which has followed, of leaving the honest\\npath, trodden up to that time by all European Colonies, and seizing the\\nland of the country as their own. Only in 1896 do we find protests\",\n \", he can do so in several ways. He can join the Congo\\nReform Association (Granville House, Arundel Street, W. C.). He can write\\nto his local member and aid in getting up local meetings to ventilate the\\nquestion. Finally, he can pass this book on and purchase other copies, for\\nany profits will be used in setting the facts before the French and German\\npublic.\\n\\nIt may be objected that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\\nAug\",\n \"ed by a wild boar.\\nThere must be many wild boars in Congo land, and their habits are of a\\nsingular nature. It is not in the Congo that these boars are bred.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nVIII\\n\\nKING LEOPOLD'S COMMISSION AND ITS REPORT\\n\\n\\nThe immediate effect of the publication as a State paper of the general\\ncomment of Lord Cromer, and of the definite accusations of Consul\\nCasement, was a demand both in Belgium and in England for an official\\ninquiry. Lord Lands\",\n \"was the birth of the Congo Free State. Had\\nthe nations gathered round been able to perceive its future, the betrayal\\nof religion and civilization of which it would be guilty, the immense\\nseries of crimes which it would perpetrate throughout Central Africa, the\\nlowering of the prestige of all the white races, they would surely have\\nstrangled the monster in its cradle.\\n\\nIt is not necessary to record in this statement the whole of the\\nprovisions of the Berlin Congress. Two only will suffice, as they are at\\nthe same time the most important and the most flag\",\n \" The Crime of the Congo\\n\\n\\n By A. Conan Doyle\\n\\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc.\\n\\n\\n New York\\n Doubleday, Page & Company\\n Mcmix\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION\\n INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN\\n\\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, \",\n \"again,\\nand a considerable debate took place in the House of Commons, which ended\\nby passing a resolution with almost complete unanimity to the following\\neffect:\\n\\n \\\"That the Government of the Congo Free State, having, at its\\n inception, guaranteed to the Powers that its native subjects should be\\n governed with humanity, and that no trading monopoly or privilege\\n should be permitted within its dominions; this House requests His\\n Majesty's Government to confer with the other Powers, signatories of\\n the Berlin General Act, by virtue of which the\",\n \"were all for\\nLeopold, the one attracted by the prospect of pushing their missions into\\nthe heart of Africa, the others delighted at the offer of an open market\\nfor their produce. At the Congress of Berlin, which was called to regulate\\nthe situation, the nations vied with each other in furthering the plans of\\nthe King of the Belgians and in extolling his high aims. The Congo Free\\nState was created amid general rejoicings. The veteran Bismarck, as\\ncredulous as the others, pronounced its baptismal blessing. \\\"The New Congo\\nState\",\n \"had entered this dark land, and his\\nexclamation was: \\\"The Bulgarian atrocities are child's play to what has\\ntaken place here.\\\"\\n\\nFather Vermeersch then proceeds to deal with the Congo balance-sheets. His\\ncriticism is most destructive. He shows at considerable length, and with a\\nfine grasp of his subject, that there is really no connection at all\\nbetween the so-called estimate and the actual budget. In the course of the\\nState's development there is an excess running to millions of pounds which\\nhas never been account\",\n \"\\n\\n \\\"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\\n consent and just compensation.\\\"\\n\\nAgain:\\n\\n \\\"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\\\"\\n\\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\\n\\n \\\"Humanity, whose cause we plead\"\n ],\n [\n \"WHOLE OF THE LAND,\\n WITH THIS CONSEQUENCE: THAT IT CAN DISPOSE--ITSELF AND SOLELY--OF ALL\\n THE PRODUCTS OF THE SOIL; PROSECUTE AS A POACHER ANY ONE WHO TAKES\\n FROM THAT LAND THE LEAST OF ITS FRUITS, OR AS A RECEIVER OF STOLEN\\n GOODS ANY ONE WHO RECEIVES SUCH FRUIT: FORBID ANY ONE TO ESTABLISH\\n HIMSELF ON THE GREATER PART OF\",\n \"villages and gardens. It\\ndecrees that all the products of this immense region are its private\\nproperty, and it monopolizes the trade in them. As regards the primitive\\nproprietors, the native tribes, they are dispossessed by a simple\\ncircular; permission is graciously granted to them to collect such\\nproducts, but only on condition that they bring them for sale to the State\\nfor whatever the latter may be pleased to give them. As regards alien\\ntraders, they are prohibited in all this territory from trading with the\\nnatives.\\\"\\n\\nEverywhere there were stern orders\",\n \"their means of existence.\\\" Such are the words of 1886. Before the end of\\n1887, an Act had been published, though not immediately put into force,\\nwhich had the exactly opposite effect. By this Act all lands which were\\nnot actually occupied by natives were proclaimed to be the property of the\\nState. Consider for a moment what this meant! No land in such a country is\\nactually occupied by natives save the actual site of their villages, and\\nthe scanty fields of grain or manioc which surround them. Everywhere\\nbeyond these tiny patches\",\n \"PRIATION.\\\"\\n\\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\\n\\n \\\"Humanity, whose cause we plead, Christian rights, whose principles we\\n endeavour to inculcate, compel us to touch briefly upon a curious and\\n mysterious creation which is peculiar to the Congo State--the _Domaine\\n de la Couronne_.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"What are the revenues of this mysterious civil personality?\\n Estimates, more or less conjectural in nature, elaborated by M.\\n Cattier appear to establish\",\n \"ought that he was giving permission for the establishment of a station.\\nThe idea that he was actually bartering away the land was never even in\\nhis mind, for it was held by a communal tenure for the whole tribe, and it\\nwas not his to barter. And yet it is on the strength of such treaties as\\nthese that twenty millions of people have been expropriated, and the whole\\nwealth and land of the country proclaimed to belong, not to the\\ninhabitants, but to the State--that is, to King Leopold.\\n\\nWith this sheaf\",\n \"\\nReport they indicated that the question of the State appropriation of the\\nland had forced itself upon their notice. \\\"If the State wishes to avoid\\nthe principle of the State appropriation of vacant lands resulting in\\nabuse,\\\" says the Report, \\\"it should place its agents and officials on\\ntheir guard against too restrictive interpretation and too rigorous\\napplications.\\\" Weak and trimming, it is true, but it was the cornerstone\\nof all that the King had built, and how were they to knock it rudely out?\\nTheir attitude was not heroic. But it was natural\",\n \"\\n\\n \\\"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\\n consent and just compensation.\\\"\\n\\nAgain:\\n\\n \\\"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\\\"\\n\\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\\n\\n \\\"Humanity, whose cause we plead\",\n \"and, in fact, a great deal more, to prove\\n the state of terrorism that exists, and the virtual slavery in which\\n the people are held....\\n\\n \\\"So much for the journey to the Lake. It has enlarged my knowledge of\\n the country, and also, alas! my knowledge of the awful deeds enacted\\n in the mad haste of men to get rich. So far as I know, I am the first\\n white man to go into the _Domaine Privé_ of the King, other than the\\n employees of the State\",\n \"SYSTEM\\n\\n\\nHaving claimed, as I have shown, the whole of the land, and therefore the\\nwhole of its products, the State--that is, the King--proceeded to\\nconstruct a system by which these products could be gathered most rapidly\\nand at least cost. The essence of this system was that the people who had\\nbeen dispossessed (ironically called \\\"citizens\\\") were to be forced to\\ngather, for the profit of the State, those very products which had been\\ntaken from them. This was to be effected by two means; the one,\",\n \"shoot more, and reprimanding him for not killing more\\nthan one man in a district under his care where there was a little\\ntrouble.\\n\\nMr. Scrivener had the opportunity while at this State post, under the\\n_régime_ of a man who was endeavouring to be as humane as his instructions\\nallowed, to actually see the process whereby the secret revenues of the\\n\\\"Crown Domain\\\" are obtained. He says:\\n\\n \\\"Everything was on a military basis, but, so far as I could see, the\\n \",\n \"\\\"Considering that\\nno concession has been granted to gather rubber in the domains of the\\nState within this district, (1) natives can only gather rubber on\\ncondition of selling the same to the State; (2) any person or persons or\\nvessels having in his or their possession, or on board, more than one\\nkilogramme of rubber will have a _procèsverbal_ drawn up against him, or\\nthem, or it; and the ship can be confiscated without prejudice to any\\nsubsequent proceedings.\\\"\\n\\nThe sight of these\",\n \"ed like brave and honest men.\\n\\nNaturally they laid all stress upon what could be said in favour of the\\nKing and his creation. They would have been more than human had they not\\ndone so. They enlarged upon the size and the traffic of the cities at the\\nmouth of the Congo--as if the whole loot of a nation could pass down a\\nriver without causing commerce and riches at its mouth. Very early in the\\nReport they indicated that the question of the State appropriation of the\\nland had forced itself upon their notice. \\\"If the State wishes to avoid\\nthe\",\n \"said:\\n\\n \\\"I also told them what we had seen on the Ikelemba, of the signs of\\n desolation in all the districts, of the heartrending stories the\\n people told us, of the butcheries wrought by the various white men of\\n the State and companies who had, from time to time, been stationed\\n there among whom a few names were notorious. I pointed out to them the\\n fact that the basin of the Ikelemba was supposed to be free-trade\\n territory also, but that everywhere the people\",\n \"the constituent elements to a valid title of property exist. Let us\\n suppose, moreover, that some great Belgian landowner wishes to convert\\n portions of his property into sporting land--that land, nevertheless,\\n remains in his entire possession. Amongst the Congo natives, no doubt,\\n occupation is usually collective; but such occupation is as worthy of\\n respect as no matter what individual appropriation.\\\"\\n\\nHe continues:\\n\\n \\\"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to\",\n \"where neither are to be found that the agent has his own unfettered way.\\nWith all these considerations, is it not clear that all the terrible facts\\nwhich we know are but the mere margin of that welter of violence and\\ninjustice which the Jesuit, Father Vermeersch, has summed up in the two\\nwords, \\\"Immeasurable Misery!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nIII\\n\\nTHE WORKING OF THE SYSTEM\\n\\n\\nHaving claimed, as I have shown, the whole of the land, and therefore the\\nwhole of its products, the State\",\n \" from twenty to twenty-five days' labour every month_. There never was\\n a 'forty hours per month labour law' in the Crown Domain, and so long\\n as the tax is demanded in rubber, there never will be--at least in the\\n section of it I visited. If that law were applied, no rubber would, or\\n could possibly, be produced, for the simple reason that _there is no\\n rubber left in this section of the Domain_.\\n\\n \\\"It was some time before I made the discovery that in the Domaine de\\n la Couronne\",\n \"stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\\nsources. Everywhere, in flagrant disregard of the Treaty of Berlin, the\\nState proclaimed itself to be the sole landlord and the sole trader. In\\nsome cases it worked its own so-called property, in other cases it leased\\nit. Even those who had striven to help King Leopold in the earlier stages\\nof his enterprise were thrown overboard. Major Parminter, himself engaged\\nin trade upon the Cong\",\n \"\\n place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been\\n enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and father with\\n daughter. \\\"Oh, Inglesia,\\\" cried the chief in conclusion, \\\"don't stay\\n away long; if you do, they will come, I am sure they will come, and\\n then these enfeebled legs will not support me, I cannot run away. I am\\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\\n stay away.\\\"\\n\\n \",\n \"all that the King had built, and how were they to knock it rudely out?\\nTheir attitude was not heroic. But it was natural. They go on:\\n\\n \\\"As the greater portion of the land in the Congo is not under\\n cultivation, this interpretation concedes to the State A RIGHT OF\\n ABSOLUTE AND EXCLUSIVE OWNERSHIP OVER VIRTUALLY THE WHOLE OF THE LAND,\\n WITH THIS CONSEQUENCE: THAT IT CAN DISPOSE--ITSELF AND SOLELY--OF ALL\",\n \"riven to help King Leopold in the earlier stages\\nof his enterprise were thrown overboard. Major Parminter, himself engaged\\nin trade upon the Congo, sums up the situation in 1902 as follows: \\\"To sum\\nup, the application of the new decrees of the Government signifies this:\\nthat the State considers as its private property the whole of the Congo\\nBasin, excepting the sites of the natives' villages and gardens. It\\ndecrees that all the products of this immense region are its private\\nproperty, and it monopolizes the trade in them\"\n ],\n [\n \".\\n\\n \\\"Individual acts of atrocity here have for the most part ceased. The\\n State agents seem to have come to the conclusion that it is a waste of\\n cartridges to shoot down these people. BUT THE WHOLE SYSTEM IS A VAST\\n ATROCITY INVOLVING THE PEOPLE IN A STATE OF UNIMAGINABLE MISERY. One\\n man said to me, 'Slaves are happy compared with us. Slaves are\\n protected by their masters, they are fed and clothed. As for us\",\n \"ner's time, and stated that no\\n village in this district had escaped murders under this man's\\n _régime_.\\n\\n \\\"Next we dealt with irregularities common to all agents, calling\\n attention to and proving by specific instances the public floggings of\\n practically any and every one; quoting, for instance, seeing with my\\n own eyes six Ngombe men receive one hundred strokes each, delivered\\n simultaneously by two sentries.\\n\\n \\\"Next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men,\\n \",\n \",\\n the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured\\n me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to\\n a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.\\\"\\n\\nAgain I insert a passage to show that Casement was by no means an\\nill-natured critic:\\n\\n \\\"It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R.\\n Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult\\n and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as\",\n \"administrative authorities of the\\n region.\\\"\\n\\nYet another example of the workings of the system:\\n\\n \\\"In the morning, when about to start for K----, many people from the\\n surrounding country came in to see me. They brought with them three\\n individuals who had been shockingly wounded by gun fire, two men and a\\n very small boy, not more than six years of age, and a fourth--a boy\\n child of six or seven--whose right hand was cut off at the wrist. One\\n of the men, who had been shot through the arm,\",\n \"without the authority of the\\n Governor-General.\\\"\\n\\nAnd, finally, his reasons for writing his book:\\n\\n \\\"The contemplation of an immeasurable misery has caused us to publish\\n this book. The gravity of the evil, its roots causes, had long escaped\\n us. When we knew them we could not retain within ourselves the\\n compassion with which we were imbued, and we resolved to tell the\\n citizens of a generous country, appealing to their religion, to their\\n patriotism, to their hearts.\\\"\\n\\nSurely after such evidence from such\",\n \"in the country, and the present occupant of the post was endeavouring to\\ncarry out the duties assigned to him (those duties consisting, as usual,\\nof orders to get all the rubber possible out of the people) with as much\\nhumanity as the nature of the task permitted. In this he, no doubt, did\\nwhat was possible as one whom the system had not yet degraded to its\\nlevel--one of the rare few: and one cannot wonder that they should be\\nrare, seeing the nature of the bonds, and the helplessness in which an\\nofficial is placed\",\n \"but\\n should receive a little humanity. They are naked, except for a\\n miserable patch of cloth of several parts, held in place by a string\\n round the waist. They are not loosened from the rope for any purpose.\\n They live in the guard-house under the charge of black native\\n sentries, who delight in slapping and ill-using them, for pity is not\\n in the heart of the native. Some of the women have babies, but they go\\n to work just the same. They form, indeed, a miserable spectacle, and\\n one w\",\n \"the result of my journey through this portion of the country, I am\\n forced to the conclusion that the condition of the people in the\\n A.B.I.R. territory _is deplorable_, and although those living in the\\n vicinity of the mission stations are, comparatively speaking, safe\\n from ill-treatment by the rubber agents and their armed sentries,\\n those in other parts are subjected to the gravest abuses.\\n\\n \\\"There is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a\\n totally inadequate wage. In\",\n \"ased, but mainly\\nupon the general condition of the people, which is one of deplorable\\npoverty and misery--a slavery without that care which the owner was bound\\nto exercise over the health and strength of the slave. I shall give\\nwithout comment some extracts from the reports of Vice-Consul Mitchell,\\nwhich date from July, 1906:\\n\\n \\\"Most of the primitive bridges over the numerous creeks and marshes\\n had rotted away, and we had some difficulty in crossing on fallen\\n trees or a few thin sticks. This was the\",\n \"only condones, but actually\\ncommands it by private circular. Again the gap which lies betwixt law and\\nfact where the interest of gain is concerned.\\n\\n \\\"It was barely denied,\\\" the Report continues, \\\"that in the various\\n posts of the A.B.I.R. which we visited, the imprisonment of women\\n hostages, the subjection of the chiefs to servile labour, the\\n humiliations meted out to them, the flogging of rubber collectors, the\\n brutality of the black employés set over the prisoners,\",\n \"\\n\\nFurther on he says:\\n\\n \\\"Every village had been burned to the ground, and as I fled from the\\n country I saw skeletons, skeletons everywhere. And such postures! What\\n tales of horror they told.\\\"\\n\\nJust a word in conclusion from another witness, Mr. Herbert Frost:\\n\\n \\\"The power of an armed soldier among enslaved people is absolutely\\n paramount. By chief or child, every command, wish, or whim of the\\n soldier must be obeyed or gratified. At his command with rifle ready a\",\n \":\\n\\n \\\"In addition, fifty women are required each morning to go to the\\n factory and work there all day. They complained that the remuneration\\n given for these services was most inadequate, and that they were\\n continually beaten. When I asked the Chief W why he had not gone to D\\n F to complain if the sentries beat him or his people, opening his\\n mouth he pointed to one of the teeth which was just dropping out, and\\n said: 'That is what I got from the D F four days ago when I went to\\n tell him\",\n \"kes each, delivered\\n simultaneously by two sentries.\\n\\n \\\"Next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men,\\n women and children, all herded together in one shed, with no\\n arrangement for the demands of nature. Further, that very many,\\n including even chiefs, had died either in prison or immediately on\\n their release.\\n\\n \\\"Next, the mutilation of the woman Boaji, because she wished to remain\\n faithful to her husband, and refused to subject herself to the\\n passions of the sentries. The woman\",\n \"\\n \\\"I stayed at Basoko for five days, partly at Dr. Grossule's request,\\n and partly in the endeavour to learn something of the operations\\n going on in the interior. Three canoe-loads of prisoners arrived, all\\n heavily loaded with chains. But all I could learn was that they were\\n sent in by Lieutenant Baron von Otter, who had been sent to the\\n promontory lying between the mouth of the Aruwimi and the Congo to\\n enforce the Labour Ordinances.\\n\\n \\\"In all the Basenji\",\n \"Lothaire, in similar circumstances, was allowed to slip\\nfrom the country. An insignificant agent may be occasionally made an\\nexample of, but to punish the local manager of a great company would be to\\nlessen the output of rubber, and what are morality and justice compared to\\nthat?\\n\\nWhy should one continue with the testimony given before the Commission?\\nTheir wanderings covered a little space of the country and were confined\\nto the main river, but everywhere they elicited the same tale of slavery,\\nmutilation, and murder. What Scrivener and\",\n \"of the women have babies, but they go\\n to work just the same. They form, indeed, a miserable spectacle, and\\n one wonders that old women, although prisoners of war, should not\\n receive a little more consideration; at least, their nakedness might\\n be hidden. The men prisoners are treated in a far better way.\\\"\\n\\nDescribing the natives he says:\\n\\n \\\"The natives are not lazy, good-for-nothing fellows. Their fine powers\\n are obtained by hard work, sobriety and frugal living.\\\"\\n\\nHe\",\n \"est abuses.\\n\\n \\\"There is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a\\n totally inadequate wage. In visiting the various rubber-working towns,\\n one would expect to see some signs of European commodities that had\\n been given in exchange for the millions of pounds' worth of rubber\\n that has been extracted from them, but the native residents possess\\n actually nothing at all.\\n\\n \\\"_Their conditions of living are deplorable_, and the filth and\\n squalor of their villages is only too apparent. _The people live in\",\n \"I am\\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\\n stay away.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\\\"\\n\\nIt is terrible to\",\n \"ain\\\" are obtained. He says:\\n\\n \\\"Everything was on a military basis, but, so far as I could see, the\\n one and only reason for it all was rubber. It was the theme of every\\n conversation, and it was evident that the only way to please one's\\n superiors was to increase the output somehow. I saw a few men come in,\\n and the frightened look even now on their faces tells only too\\n eloquently of the awful time they have passed through. As I saw it\\n brought in, each man had a little basket\",\n \"all rushed away like chaff before\\n the wind. He told a little boy, eight or nine years of age, to go and\\n cut off the right hand of the man who had been shot. The man was not\\n quite dead, and when he felt the knife he tried to drag his hand away.\\n The boy, after some labour, cut the hand off and laid it by a fallen\\n tree. A little later this hand was put on a fire to smoke before being\\n sent to the Commissary.\\\"\\n\\nHere we get the system at its highest. I think that picture of\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n \\\"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\\n into this state now.\\\"\\n\\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty\",\n \"aside, and acted himself as torturer and executioner. As\\na rule, however, the relationship was as I have stated, the outrages being\\nactually committed by the capitas, but with the approval of, and often in\\nthe presence of, their white employers.\\n\\nIt would be absurd to suppose that the agents were all equally merciless,\\nand that there were not some who were torn in two by the desire for wealth\\nand promotion on the one side and the horror of their daily task upon the\\nother. Here are two illustrative extracts from the letters of Lieutenant\\nTil\",\n \"skin of the wretched victims who, although strongly\\nbuilt, gasp in terrible contortions.\\n\\n\\\"Often the blood trickles, more rarely fainting ensues. Regularly and\\nwithout cessation the chicotte winds round the flesh of these martyrs of\\nthe most relentless and loathsome tyrants who have ever disgraced\\nhumanity. At the first blows the unhappy victims utter terrible shrieks\\nwhich soon die down to low groans. In addition, when the officer who\\norders the punishment is in a bad humour, he k\",\n \"natives of a\\ncertain village which had been slow in bringing its rubber. He had carried\\nout the order. Later, his chief had put sixty women in irons, and allowed\\nnearly all of them to die of hunger because the village--Mummumbula--had\\nnot brought enough rubber. \\\"I am going to be tried,\\\" he wrote, \\\"for having\\nmurdered one hundred and fifty men, for having crucified women and\\nchildren, and for having mutilated many men and hung the remains on the\\nvillage fence.\\\" At the same moment as this confession\",\n \"of men, women and\\nchildren killed by the sentries of a M. Pilaet.\\n\\n \\\"Last year,\\\" he says, \\\"or the year before, the young woman, Imenega,\\n was tied to a forked tree and chopped in half with a hatchet,\\n beginning at the left shoulder, chopping down through the chest and\\n abdomen and out at the side.\\\" Again, with every detail of name and\\n place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been\\n enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and\",\n \"ner's time, and stated that no\\n village in this district had escaped murders under this man's\\n _régime_.\\n\\n \\\"Next we dealt with irregularities common to all agents, calling\\n attention to and proving by specific instances the public floggings of\\n practically any and every one; quoting, for instance, seeing with my\\n own eyes six Ngombe men receive one hundred strokes each, delivered\\n simultaneously by two sentries.\\n\\n \\\"Next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men,\\n \",\n \"asked by the rubber agent if he would bring\\n in rubber now. He replied that he would. Although a chief of\\n considerable standing, he has been flogged, imprisoned, tied by the\\n neck with men who were regarded as slaves, made to do the most menial\\n work, and his beard, which was of many years' growth, and reached\\n almost to the ground, was cut off by the rubber agent because he\\n visited another town.\\\"\\n\\nLontulu was cross-examined by the Commission and his evidence was not\\nshaken. Here are some of\",\n \"its are specially\\ninvited.\\n\\n\\\"The chief of the post points out the victims; they leave the ranks and\\ncome forward, for at the least attempt at flight they would be brutally\\nseized by the soldiers, struck in the face by the representative of the\\nFree State and the punishment would be doubled. Trembling and terrified,\\nthey stretch themselves face down before the captain and his colleagues;\\ntwo of their companions, sometimes four, seize them by their hands and\\nfeet and take off their waistcloth. Then, armed with a lash of\\nhippopotam\",\n \"on a fire to smoke before being\\n sent to the Commissary.\\\"\\n\\nHere we get the system at its highest. I think that picture of the child\\nhacking off the hand of the dying man at the order of the monster who\\nwould have assuredly murdered him also had he hesitated to obey, is as\\ndiabolical a one as even the Congo could show. A pretty commentary upon\\nthe doctrine of Christ which the missionary was there to preach!\\n\\nMr. Sjoblom seems to have been unable to believe at first that such deeds\\nwere done with the\",\n \"dying he had given him\\nthe charge of two infant brothers and enjoined him to guard them tenderly.\\nHe had cared for them until he had been compelled at last to go himself\\ninto the forest to gather the rubber. One week their quantity had been\\nshort. When he returned from the wood the village had been raided in his\\nabsence, and he found his two little brothers lying disembowelled across a\\nlog. The company, however, paid 200 per cent.\\n\\nFour natives had been tortured until they cried out for some one to bring\\na gun and\",\n \"Lothaire, in similar circumstances, was allowed to slip\\nfrom the country. An insignificant agent may be occasionally made an\\nexample of, but to punish the local manager of a great company would be to\\nlessen the output of rubber, and what are morality and justice compared to\\nthat?\\n\\nWhy should one continue with the testimony given before the Commission?\\nTheir wanderings covered a little space of the country and were confined\\nto the main river, but everywhere they elicited the same tale of slavery,\\nmutilation, and murder. What Scrivener and\",\n \"useful\\nhe was, the more eagerly the villagers obeyed him, and the more rubber\\nyielded its commission to the agent. When the amount fell off, then the\\ncapita was himself made to feel some of those physical pains which he had\\ninflicted upon others. Often the white agent far exceeded in cruelty the\\nbarbarian who carried out his commissions. Often, too, the white man\\npushed the black aside, and acted himself as torturer and executioner. As\\na rule, however, the relationship was as I have stated, the outrages being\",\n \"be mutilated like that, and those parts of you carried to him?'\\n\\n \\\"P P, O O, and all (shouting): 'Yes! many white men. D E did it.'\\n\\n \\\"_Q._ 'You say this is true? Were many of you so treated after being\\n shot?'\\n\\n \\\"All (shouting out): 'Nkoto! Nkoto!' (Very many! Very many!)\\n\\n \\\"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not\",\n \"Captain Boyd Alexander, or Mrs. French Sheldon say in\\nthe face of a mass of evidence with the actual mutilated limbs and\\nexcoriated backs to enforce it? Can they say more than the man actually\\nincriminated, M. Le Jeune, the chief agent at the spot? \\\"What have you to\\nsay?\\\" asked the President. M. Le Jeune shrugged his shoulders. He had\\nnothing to say. The President, who had listened, to his honour be it\\nspoken, with tears running down his cheeks to some of the evidence, cried\\nout in amaz\",\n \", somewhere, they will have their reward!\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nAPPENDIX\\n\\n\\nNOTE I--THE CHICOTTE\\n\\nChicotting is alluded to in Congo annals as a minor punishment, freely\\ninflicted upon women and children. It is really a terrible torture, which\\nleaves the victim flayed and fainting. There is a science in the\\nadministration of it. Félicien Challaye tells of a Belgian officer who\\nbecame communicative upon the subject. \\\"One can hardly believe,\\\" said the\\nbrute\",\n \"beat them, mutilated them, and shot them\\ndown at his pleasure. He enforced public incest in order to amuse himself\\nby the sight. Sometimes they plucked up spirit and killed him. The Belgian\\nCommission records that 142 capitas had been killed in seven months in a\\nsingle district. Then came the punitive expedition, and the destruction of\\nthe whole community. The more terror the capita inspired, the more useful\\nhe was, the more eagerly the villagers obeyed him, and the more rubber\\nyielded its commission to the agent. When the\",\n \"kes each, delivered\\n simultaneously by two sentries.\\n\\n \\\"Next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men,\\n women and children, all herded together in one shed, with no\\n arrangement for the demands of nature. Further, that very many,\\n including even chiefs, had died either in prison or immediately on\\n their release.\\n\\n \\\"Next, the mutilation of the woman Boaji, because she wished to remain\\n faithful to her husband, and refused to subject herself to the\\n passions of the sentries. The woman\",\n \", good-for-nothing fellows. Their fine powers\\n are obtained by hard work, sobriety and frugal living.\\\"\\n\\nHe gives a glimpse of what the chicotte is like, the favourite and\\nuniversal instrument of torture used by the agents and officers of the\\nFree State:\\n\\n \\\"The 'chicotte' of raw hippo hide, especially a new one, trimmed like\\n a corkscrew, with edges like knife-blades, and as hard as wood, is a\\n terrible weapon, and a few blows bring blood; not more\",\n \"ain\\\" are obtained. He says:\\n\\n \\\"Everything was on a military basis, but, so far as I could see, the\\n one and only reason for it all was rubber. It was the theme of every\\n conversation, and it was evident that the only way to please one's\\n superiors was to increase the output somehow. I saw a few men come in,\\n and the frightened look even now on their faces tells only too\\n eloquently of the awful time they have passed through. As I saw it\\n brought in, each man had a little basket\",\n \"meted out to them, the flogging of rubber collectors, the\\n brutality of the black employés set over the prisoners, were the rule\\n commonly followed.\\\"\\n\\nThen follows an illuminative passage about the sentries, capitas or\\n\\\"forest guards,\\\" or messengers, as they are alternatively called. It is a\\nwonder that they were not called hospital orderlies in the efforts to make\\nthem seem inoffensive. What they actually were was, as we have seen, some\\ntwenty thousand cannibals armed with Albini repeating\"\n ],\n [\n \" GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIME OF THE CONGO ***\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nProduced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed\\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\\nproduced from images generously made available by The\\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nTHE CRIME OF THE CONGO\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Crime of the Congo\\n\\n\\n By A. Conan Doyle\\n\\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc\",\n \"possible.\\\"\\n\\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\\n\\n \\\"Everywhere,\\\" he said, \\\"I hear the same news of the doings of the\\n Congo Free State--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. It is\\n said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... In Europe we\\n understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel\\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\\\"\\n\\nOn\",\n \" The Crime of the Congo\\n\\n\\n By A. Conan Doyle\\n\\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc.\\n\\n\\n New York\\n Doubleday, Page & Company\\n Mcmix\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION\\n INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN\\n\\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, \",\n \".\\n\\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\\n\\n Windlesham, Crowborough,\\n September, 1909.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCONTENTS\\n\\n\\n PAGE\\n\\n Preface iii\\n\\n Introduction vii\\n\\n How the Congo Free State Came to be Founded 3\\n\\n The Development of the Congo State 9\\n\\n The Working of the System 22\\n\\n First Fruits of the System 27\\n\\n Further\",\n \"a grand\\nsight to see the banner of humanity and civilization carried forward in\\nsuch a cause by the two great English-speaking nations.\\n\\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nINTRODUCTION\\n\\n\\nI am convinced that the reason why public opinion has not been more\\nsensitive upon the question of the Congo Free State, is that the terrible\\nstory has not been brought thoroughly home to the people. Mr. E. D. Morel\\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\\nstruggled hard with very\",\n \" COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, 1909\\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY A. CONAN DOYLE\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nPREFACE\\n\\n\\nThere are many of us in England who consider the crime which has been\\nwrought in the Congo lands by King Leopold of Belgium and his followers to\\nbe the greatest which has ever been known in human annals. Personally I am\\nstrongly of that opinion. There have been great expropriations\",\n \", is really a part of the design of the vile institution which\\naims at debasing the black in order to be able to use him and abuse him\\nwithout fear.\\\"--\\\"Le Régime Congolais,\\\" Liége, Lefranc.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's The Crime of the Congo, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle\\n\\n\",\n \"I am\\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\\n stay away.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\\\"\\n\\nIt is terrible to\",\n \"a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 1885 a State is formed for the \\\"moral and\\nmaterial improvement of the native races.\\\" In 1903 the native \\\"is not\\nentitled to anything.\\\" The two phrases mark the beginning and the end of\\nKing Leopold's journey.\\n\\nIn 1904 the British Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\\nof Consul Casement.\",\n \"the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\\n\\\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 188\",\n \"driven him to his death, and by the\\nlast reports neither his relatives nor his creditors have received any\\nportion of this large sum. Consider the whole story and say if it is\\nexaggeration to state that Gustav Maria Rabinck was robbed and murdered by\\nthe Congo Free State.\\n\\nHaving shown in these two examples the way in which the Congo Free State\\nhas dared to treat the citizens of European States who have traded within\\nher borders, I will now proceed to detail, in chronological order, some\\naccount of the dark story of that State's relations\",\n \"ceived by the general public from the Congo Free State concerned the\\nfounding of new stations, and the idea prevailed that King Leopold's\\nenterprise was indeed working out upon the humanitarian lines which had\\nbeen originally planned. Then, for the first time, incidents occurred\\nwhich gave some glimpse of the violence and anarchy which really\\nprevailed.\\n\\nThe first of these, so far as Great Britain is concerned, lay in the\\ntreatment of natives from Sierra Leone, Lagos, and other British\\nSettlements, who had been engaged by the Belgians to\",\n \"ran away, kicked her. They talk of philanthropy and\\n civilization! Where it is, I do not know.\\\"\\n\\nAnd again:\\n\\n \\\"Most white officers out on the Congo are averse to the india-rubber\\n policy of the State, but the laws command it. Therefore, at each post\\n one finds the natives deserting their homes, and escaping to the\\n French side of the river when possible.\\\"\\n\\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\\n\\n \\\"Everywhere,\\\" he said, \\\"I hear the same news of the\",\n \", he can do so in several ways. He can join the Congo\\nReform Association (Granville House, Arundel Street, W. C.). He can write\\nto his local member and aid in getting up local meetings to ventilate the\\nquestion. Finally, he can pass this book on and purchase other copies, for\\nany profits will be used in setting the facts before the French and German\\npublic.\\n\\nIt may be objected that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\\nAug\",\n \"\\n\\n \\\"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\\n consent and just compensation.\\\"\\n\\nAgain:\\n\\n \\\"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\\\"\\n\\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\\n\\n \\\"Humanity, whose cause we plead\",\n \"again,\\nand a considerable debate took place in the House of Commons, which ended\\nby passing a resolution with almost complete unanimity to the following\\neffect:\\n\\n \\\"That the Government of the Congo Free State, having, at its\\n inception, guaranteed to the Powers that its native subjects should be\\n governed with humanity, and that no trading monopoly or privilege\\n should be permitted within its dominions; this House requests His\\n Majesty's Government to confer with the other Powers, signatories of\\n the Berlin General Act, by virtue of which the\",\n \", first, Great Britain\\nand the Congo State; secondly, Great Britain and Belgium. In each case\\nGreat Britain was, indeed, the spokesman of the civilized world.\\n\\nSo far as one can trace, no strong protest was raised by the British\\nGovernment at the time when the Congo State took the fatal step, the\\ndirect cause of everything which has followed, of leaving the honest\\npath, trodden up to that time by all European Colonies, and seizing the\\nland of the country as their own. Only in 1896 do we find protests\",\n \"and M.\\nVandervelde, the fearless Belgian advocate of liberty, has set forth to\\nact for the accused. What M. Labori was to Dreyfus, M. Vandervelde has\\nbeen to the Congo, save that it is a whole nation who are his clients. He\\nand his noble comrade, Mr. Lorand, are the two men who redeem the record\\nof infamy which must long darken the good name of Belgium.\\n\\nI will now deal swiftly with the records of evil deeds which have occurred\\nsince the time which I\",\n \"ed by a wild boar.\\nThere must be many wild boars in Congo land, and their habits are of a\\nsingular nature. It is not in the Congo that these boars are bred.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nVIII\\n\\nKING LEOPOLD'S COMMISSION AND ITS REPORT\\n\\n\\nThe immediate effect of the publication as a State paper of the general\\ncomment of Lord Cromer, and of the definite accusations of Consul\\nCasement, was a demand both in Belgium and in England for an official\\ninquiry. Lord Lands\",\n \"Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\\nof Consul Casement. This document, circulated officially all over the\\nglobe, must have opened the eyes of the nations, if any were still shut,\\nto the true object and development of King Leopold's enterprise. It was\\nhoped that this action upon the part of Great Britain would be the first\\nstep toward intervention, and, indeed, Lord Lansdowne made it clear in so\\nmany words that our hand was outstretched, and that if any\"\n ],\n [\n \" COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, 1909\\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY A. CONAN DOYLE\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nPREFACE\\n\\n\\nThere are many of us in England who consider the crime which has been\\nwrought in the Congo lands by King Leopold of Belgium and his followers to\\nbe the greatest which has ever been known in human annals. Personally I am\\nstrongly of that opinion. There have been great expropriations\",\n \" The Crime of the Congo\\n\\n\\n By A. Conan Doyle\\n\\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc.\\n\\n\\n New York\\n Doubleday, Page & Company\\n Mcmix\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION\\n INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN\\n\\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, \",\n \"a grand\\nsight to see the banner of humanity and civilization carried forward in\\nsuch a cause by the two great English-speaking nations.\\n\\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nINTRODUCTION\\n\\n\\nI am convinced that the reason why public opinion has not been more\\nsensitive upon the question of the Congo Free State, is that the terrible\\nstory has not been brought thoroughly home to the people. Mr. E. D. Morel\\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\\nstruggled hard with very\",\n \" GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIME OF THE CONGO ***\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nProduced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed\\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\\nproduced from images generously made available by The\\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nTHE CRIME OF THE CONGO\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Crime of the Congo\\n\\n\\n By A. Conan Doyle\\n\\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc\",\n \"remarked before beginning that at some of these conversations with the\\nnatives Mr. Scrivener was present, and that he corroborates the account\\ngiven by the Consul.\\n\\nThe beginning of Mr. Casement's report shows how willing he was to give\\npraise where praise was possible, and to say all that could be said for\\nthe Administration. He talks of \\\"energetic European intervention,\\\" and\\nadds, \\\"that very much of this intervention has been called for no one who\\nformerly knew the Upper Congo could doubt.\\\" \\\"Admirably built and admir\",\n \"\\n_entente cordiale_ would be strained to breaking. Surely, then, if these\\nthree Powers, the ones most directly involved, have such obvious reasons\\nfor helping, rather than hindering, we may go forward without fear. But if\\nit were not so, if all Europe frowned upon our enterprise, we would not be\\nworthy to be the sons of our fathers if we did not go forward on the plain\\npath of national duty.\\n\\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\\n\\n Windlesham, Crowborough,\\n September, 1909.\",\n \"assigned to\\nthis malady. The natives certainly attribute their alarming death-rate to\\nthis as one of the inducing causes, although they attribute, and I think\\nprincipally, their rapid decrease in numbers to other causes as well.\\\"\\n\\nThe Government work shop \\\"was brightness, care, order, and activity, and\\nit was impossible not to admire and commend the industry which had created\\nand maintained in constant working order this useful establishment.\\\"\\n\\nThese are not the words of a critic who has started with a prejudiced mind\\nor the desire to make out a case.\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n \\\"There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their\\n vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated.\\n Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling\\n what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so\\n furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they\\n lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting\\n into this state now.\\\"\\n\\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty\",\n \", is really a part of the design of the vile institution which\\naims at debasing the black in order to be able to use him and abuse him\\nwithout fear.\\\"--\\\"Le Régime Congolais,\\\" Liége, Lefranc.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's The Crime of the Congo, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle\\n\\n\",\n \"dusty and malodorous; covered with insects as their huge procession\\n passes over mountains and through valleys; dying on the tramp, or,\\n when the tramp is over, going to their villages to die of exhaustion.\\\"\\n\\nIt will be remembered that Captain Lothaire, having been acquitted of the\\nmurder of Mr. Stokes, was sent out by King Leopold to act as\\nmanaging-director of the Anversoise Trust. In 1898, he arrived in the\\nMongalla District, and from then onward there\",\n \".\\n\\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\\n\\n Windlesham, Crowborough,\\n September, 1909.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCONTENTS\\n\\n\\n PAGE\\n\\n Preface iii\\n\\n Introduction vii\\n\\n How the Congo Free State Came to be Founded 3\\n\\n The Development of the Congo State 9\\n\\n The Working of the System 22\\n\\n First Fruits of the System 27\\n\\n Further\",\n \"it had been brought\\nunder his notice.\\n\\nMr. Scrivener, a gentleman who had been twenty-three years on the Congo,\\nwas the next witness. His evidence was largely the same as the \\\"Diary\\\"\\nfrom which I have already quoted, concerning the condition of the Crown\\nDomain. Many witnesses were examined. \\\"How do you know the names of the\\nmen murdered?\\\" a lad was asked. \\\"One of them was my father,\\\" was the\\ndramatic reply. \\\"Men of stone,\\\" wrote Mr. Scrivener, \\\"would be moved by\\nthe stories that are\",\n \"efficient agent of the Anversoise Society, that same company whose\\nred-edged securities rose to such a height when Manager Lothaire taught\\nthe natives what a minister in the Belgian House described as the\\nChristian law of work. He did his best for the company, and he did his\\nbest for himself, for he had a three per cent. commission upon the\\nrubber. Why he should be chosen among all his fellow-murderers is hard to\\nexplain, but it was so, and he found himself at Boma with a sentence of\\ntwenty years. On\",\n \"A word or two as to Mr. Casement's own personality and qualifications may\\nnot be amiss, since both were attacked by his Belgian detractors. He is a\\ntried and experienced public servant, who has had exceptional\\nopportunities of knowing Africa and the natives. He entered the Consular\\nService in 1892, served on the Niger till 1895, was Consul at Delagoa Bay\\nto 1898, and was finally transferred to the Congo. Personally, he is a man\\nof the highest character, truthful\",\n \", had not at that\\ntime attained the efficiency which it afterward reached. This letter from\\nLacroix was published on April 10th, 1900, and shed a lurid light upon\\nwhat had been going on in the Mongalla District. It was a confession, but\\na confession which involved his superiors as well as himself. He told how\\nhe had been instructed by his chief to massacre all the natives of a\\ncertain village which had been slow in bringing its rubber. He had carried\\nout the order. Later, his chief had put sixty\",\n \"want? Tell us, and we will get it for\\n you.'\\\"\\n\\nSpeaking of English scepticism as to King Leopold's intentions, he says:\\n\\n \\\"Though they understand the satisfaction of a sentiment when applied\\n to England, they are slow to understand that it may be a sentiment\\n that induced King Leopold II. to father this International\\n Association. He is a dreamer, like his _confrères_ in the work,\\n because the sentiment is applied to the neglected millions of the Dark\\n Continent. They cannot appreciate rightly\",\n \"Mr. E. D. Morel\\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\\nstruggled hard with very scanty means; but their time and energies have,\\nfor the most part, been absorbed in dealing with each fresh phase of the\\nsituation as it arose. There is room, therefore, as it seemed to me, for a\\ngeneral account which would cover the whole field and bring the matter up\\nto date. This account must necessarily be a superficial one, if it is to\\nbe produced at such a size and such a price,\",\n \"body,\\nthe matter would have been simple. But of the three good care had been\\ntaken that two should be men who would have to answer for what was said.\\nMr. Janssens was a more or less independent man, but a Belgian, and a\\nsubject all the same. Baron Nisco was in the actual employ of the King,\\nand his future was at stake. On the whole, I think that the Commissioners\\nacted like brave and honest men.\\n\\nNaturally they laid all stress upon what could be said in favour of the\\nKing and his creation. They\",\n \",\\n the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured\\n me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to\\n a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.\\\"\\n\\nAgain I insert a passage to show that Casement was by no means an\\nill-natured critic:\\n\\n \\\"It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R.\\n Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult\\n and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as\",\n \"\\nto 1898, and was finally transferred to the Congo. Personally, he is a man\\nof the highest character, truthful, unselfish--one who is deeply respected\\nby all who know him. His experience, which deals with the Crown Domain\\ndistricts in the year 1903, covers some sixty-two pages, to be read in\\nfull in \\\"White Book, Africa, No. 1, 1904.\\\" I will not apologize for the\\nlength of the extracts, as this, the first official exposure, was an\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"was won over to advancing ten\\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\\nsprang up which has eventually led to annexation. At the time of this loan\\nKing Leopold let it be known that he had left the Congo Free State in his\\nwill to Belgium. In this document appear the words, \\\"A young and spacious\\nState, directed from Brussels, has pacifically appeared in the sunlight,\\nthanks to the benevolent support of the Powers that have welcomed its\\nappearance. Some Belgians administer it, while others\",\n \"that this is ancient history, and that the greater part\\nof it refers to a period before the Congo State was annexed to Belgium on\\nAugust 10th, 1908. But responsibility cannot be so easily shaken off. The\\nCongo State was founded by the Belgian King, and exploited by Belgian\\ncapital, Belgian soldiers and Belgian concessionnaires. It was defended\\nand upheld by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles\",\n \"Grey declared that we\\n\\\"could not wait forever,\\\" and yet we see that he is waiting still. In 1908\\nthe long looked-for annexation came at last, and the Congo State exchanged\\nthe blue flag with the golden star for the tricolour of Belgium. Immediate\\nand radical reforms were promised, but the matter ended as all previous\\npromises have done. In 1909 M. Renkin, the Belgian Colonial Minister, went\\nout to inspect the Congo State, and had the frankness before going to say\\nthat nothing would be\",\n \"oulded.\\n\\nIn the meantime King Leopold, feeling the weakness of his personal\\nposition in face of the great enterprise which lay before him in Africa,\\nendeavoured more and more to draw Belgium, as a State, into the matter.\\nAlready the Congo State was largely the outcome of Belgian work and of\\nBelgian money, but, theoretically, there was no connection between the two\\ncountries. Now the Belgian Parliament was won over to advancing ten\\nmillion francs for the use of the Congo, and thus a direct connection\\nsprang up which has eventually\",\n \", which will take another year\\nto produce, and will be utterly futile when reduced to practice. But the\\nworld has seen this game too often. Surely it will not be made a fool of\\nagain. There is some limit to European patience.\\n\\nMeanwhile, in this very month of August, 1909, a full year after the\\nannexation by Belgium (an annexation, be it mentioned, which will not be\\nofficially recognized by Great Britain until she is satisfied in the\\nmatter of reforms), Prince Albert, the heir to the throne,\",\n \", therefore, since whatever happens must be\\nfor the better.\\n\\nCan a solution be found through Belgium?\\n\\nNo, it is impossible, and that should be recognized from the outset. The\\nBelgians have been given their chance. They have had nearly twenty-five\\nyears of undisturbed possession, and they have made it a hell upon earth.\\nThey cannot disassociate themselves from this work or pretend that it was\\ndone by a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital,\",\n \"this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all the honours\\nof war. M. de Favereau, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, alternately\\nexplained that there was no connection at all between Belgium and the\\nCongo State, and that it was a breach of Belgian patriotism to attack the\\nlatter. The policy of the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which\",\n \"did not ask and desire their co-operation.\\n\\nFrom this date remonstrances were frequent from the British Government,\\nthough they inadequately represented the anger and impatience of those\\nBritish subjects who were aware of the true state of affairs. The British\\nGovernment refrained from going to extremes because it was understood that\\nthere would shortly be a Belgian annexation, and it was hoped that this\\nwould mark the beginning of better things without the necessity for our\\nintervention. Delay followed delay, and nothing was done. A Liberal\\nGovernment was as\",\n \"was destined to crush out all general private trade in\\na country as large as the whole of Europe with Russia omitted. That was\\nthe admitted outcome of their enterprise. Now listen to M. Beernaert, the\\nBelgian Premier, speaking in the year 1885:\\n\\n \\\"The State, of which our King will be the Sovereign, will be a sort of\\n international Colony. There will be no monopolies, no privileges....\\n Quite the contrary: absolute freedom of commerce, freedom of property,\\n freedom of navigation.\\\"\\n\\n\",\n \"a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital, and was endorsed and\\ndefended by Belgian governments. It is out of the question that Belgium\\nshould remain on the Congo.\\n\\nNor, in face of reform, would Belgium wish to be there. She could not\\ncarry the burden. When the country is restored to its inhabitants together\\nwith their freedom, it will be in the same position as those German and\\nEnglish colonies which entail heavy annual expenditure from the mother\\n\",\n \".\\n\\nAnd what shall that action be? War with Belgium? On them must rest the\\nresponsibility for that. Our measures must be directed against the Congo\\nState, which has not yet been recognized by us as being a possession of\\nBelgium. If Belgium take up the quarrel then so be it. There are many ways\\nin which we can bring the Congo State to her knees. A blockade of the\\nCongo is one, but it has the objection of the international complications\\nwhich might ensue. An easier way would be to proclaim this guilty land as\\nan out\",\n \"claimed to belong, not to the\\ninhabitants, but to the State--that is, to King Leopold.\\n\\nWith this sheaf of treaties in his portfolio the King of the Belgians now\\napproached the Powers with high sentiments of humanitarianism, and with a\\ndefinite request that the State which he was forming should receive some\\nrecognized status among the nations. Was he at that time consciously\\nhypocritical? Did he already foresee how widely his future actions would\\ndiffer from his present professions? It is a problem which will interest\\n\",\n \"the admissions of the Belgian\\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by\",\n \"held by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles, it is an insult to\\ncommon sense to suppose that the responsibility for the Congo has not\\nalways rested with Belgium. The Belgian machinery was always ready to help\\nand defend the State, but never to hold it in control and restrain it from\\ncrime.\\n\\nOne chance Belgium had. If immediately upon taking over the State they had\\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\\nwith power to punish for all\",\n \"stamped out, Belgium, as well as Dutch, English and French. Some of\\nthe loudest protests against the new order may be taken from Belgian\\nsources. Everywhere, in flagrant disregard of the Treaty of Berlin, the\\nState proclaimed itself to be the sole landlord and the sole trader. In\\nsome cases it worked its own so-called property, in other cases it leased\\nit. Even those who had striven to help King Leopold in the earlier stages\\nof his enterprise were thrown overboard. Major Parminter, himself engaged\\nin trade upon the Cong\",\n \"I\\n\\nHOW THE CONGO FREE STATE CAME TO BE FOUNDED\\n\\n\\nIn the earlier years of his reign King Leopold of Belgium began to display\\nthat interest in Central Africa which for a long time was ascribed to\\nnobility and philanthropy, until the contrast between such motives, and\\nthe actual unscrupulous commercialism, became too glaring to be sustained.\\nAs far back as the year 1876 he called a conference of humanitarians and\\ntravellers, who met at Brussels for the purpose of debating various plans\\nby which\",\n \"naire companies, for the obvious reason that they have\\nnotoriously abused their powers, then Belgium could go forward in its\\ncolonizing enterprise on the same terms as other States, with her sins\\nexpiated so far as expiation is now possible.\\n\\nShe did none of these things. For a year now she has herself persevered in\\nthe evil ways of her predecessor. Her colony is a scandal before the whole\\nworld. The era of murders and mutilations has, as we hope, passed by, but\\nthe country is sunk into a state of cowed\",\n \"the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\\n\\\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 188\",\n \", first, Great Britain\\nand the Congo State; secondly, Great Britain and Belgium. In each case\\nGreat Britain was, indeed, the spokesman of the civilized world.\\n\\nSo far as one can trace, no strong protest was raised by the British\\nGovernment at the time when the Congo State took the fatal step, the\\ndirect cause of everything which has followed, of leaving the honest\\npath, trodden up to that time by all European Colonies, and seizing the\\nland of the country as their own. Only in 1896 do we find protests\",\n \"\\nthem, or it; and the ship can be confiscated without prejudice to any\\nsubsequent proceedings.\\\"\\n\\nThe sight of these insignificant lieutenants and captains, who are often\\nnon-commissioned officers of the Belgian army, issuing proclamations which\\nwere in distinct contradiction to the expressed will of all the great\\nPowers of the world, might at the time have seemed ludicrous; but the\\nhistory of the next seventeen years was to prove that a small malignant\\nforce, driven on by greed, may prove to\"\n ],\n [\n \",\\n the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured\\n me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to\\n a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.\\\"\\n\\nAgain I insert a passage to show that Casement was by no means an\\nill-natured critic:\\n\\n \\\"It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R.\\n Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult\\n and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as\",\n \"they have stood before the whole world\\nas the defenders of that which will be described by the historian as the\\ngreatest crime in history.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nXI\\n\\nTHE EVIDENCE UP TO DATE\\n\\n\\nI shall now append some extracts from the reports of several British\\nVice-Consuls and Consuls sent in during the last few years. These bear\\nless upon outrages, which have admittedly greatly decreased, but mainly\\nupon the general condition of the people, which is one of deplorable\\npoverty and misery--a slavery without that\",\n \"present in the town, who were not so bad as K K, but that\\n he was a villain. As the evidence against him was perfectly clear, man\\n after man standing out and declaring he had seen the act committed, I\\n informed him and the people present that I should appeal to the local\\n authorities for his immediate arrest and trial.\\\"\\n\\nThe following extract must be my final quotation from Consul Casement's\\nreport:\\n\\n \\\"I asked then how this tax was imposed. One of them, who had been\\n hammering out an iron neck-collar\",\n \"the admissions of the Belgian\\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by\",\n \"this I passed on to the imprisonment of men, women\\n and children. Following this I called attention to the destruction of\\n the Baringa towns and the partial famine among the people in\\n consequence. Also the large gangs of prisoners--men, women and\\n children--imprisoned to carry out this work; the murder of two men\\n whilst it was being done. Next followed the irregularities during\\n 1903. The expedition conducted by an A.B.I.R. agent against\\n Samb'ekota, and the arming continually of A\",\n \"the men before me was getting\\n into this state now.\\\"\\n\\nSuch is the story--or a very small portion of it--which His Majesty's\\nConsul conveyed to His Majesty's Government as to the condition of those\\nnatives, who, \\\"in the name of Almighty God,\\\" we had pledged ourselves to\\ndefend!\\n\\nThe same damning White Book contained a brief account of Lord Cromer's\\nexperience upon the Upper Nile in the Lado district. He notes that for\\neighty miles the side of the river which is\",\n \"to the sinister character of the system. It\\n consisted of a list showing that from 1st January to 1st August,\\n 1905--that is to say, within a space of seven months--142 sentries of\\n the Society had been killed or wounded by the natives. Now, it is to\\n be assumed that in many cases these sentries had been attacked by the\\n natives by way of revenge. One may judge by this of the number of\\n bloody affrays to which their presence had given rise. ON THE OTHER\\n HAND\",\n \"saw an\\noutrage. No doubt he had formed the opinion that his brethren had been\\nexaggerating. Then one day he heard an outburst of firing, and turned his\\nlittle steamer to the spot. This is what he saw: \\\"They were horrified to\\nfind the native soldiers of the Government under the eyes of their white\\nofficers engaged in mutilating the dead bodies of the natives who had just\\nbeen killed. Three native bodies were lying near the river's edge and\\nhuman limbs were lying within a few yards from the steamer. A\",\n \"\\nOne chief was seized by two white agents, one of whom held him while the\\nother beat him. When they had finished they kicked him to make him get up,\\nbut the man was dead. The Commission examined ten witnesses in their\\ninvestigation of this story. The chief was Jonghi, the village Bogeka, the\\ndate October, 1904.\\n\\nSuch is a fractional sample of the evidence which was laid before the\\nCommission, corroborated by every detail of name, place and date which\\ncould enforce conviction. There is no doubt that it did enforce\",\n \"and of illegal fines and irregular taxes, etc., etc. The Commission\\n endeavours to get through this slough of iniquity and river of blood,\\n but finding it hopeless, asks how much longer I can go on. I tell them\\n I can go on until they are satisfied that hundreds of murders have\\n been committed by the A.B.I.R. in this district alone; murders of\\n chiefs, men, women and little children, and that multitudes of\\n witnesses only await my signal to appear by the thousand.\\n\\n \\\"\",\n \"gave\\nand that their condition has been more miserable than ever. The final\\npractical result of the Commission was that upon the natives, and not upon\\ntheir murderers, came the punishment.\\n\\nM. Malfeyt, a Royal High Commissioner, had been sent out on pretence of\\nreform. How hollow was this pretence may be seen from the fact that at the\\nsame time M. Wahis had been despatched as Governor-General in place of\\nthat Constermann who had committed suicide after his interview with the\\njudges of the Commission. Wah\",\n \"and after this was set aside the natives had nothing\\n but leaves to eat.\\\"\\n\\nAlso, that fines, which the Commission at once declared to be illegal,\\nwere constantly levied on the people, and that these fines had continued\\nafter the matter had been reported to the Governor-General. In spite of\\nthis declaration of illegality, no steps were taken in the matter, and M.\\nde Bauw, the chief offender, was by last accounts the supreme executive\\nofficial of the district. At every turn one finds that there is no\\nrelation at all between law\",\n \"\\nbe the greatest which has ever been known in human annals. Personally I am\\nstrongly of that opinion. There have been great expropriations like that\\nof the Normans in England or of the English in Ireland. There have been\\nmassacres of populations like that of the South Americans by the Spaniards\\nor of subject nations by the Turks. But never before has there been such a\\nmixture of wholesale expropriation and wholesale massacre all done under\\nan odious guise of philanthropy and with the lowest commercial motives as\\na reason. It is this\",\n \": and one cannot wonder that they should be\\nrare, seeing the nature of the bonds, and the helplessness in which an\\nofficial is placed who does not carry out the full desires of his\\nsuperiors. But he had only succeeded in getting himself into trouble with\\nthe district commander in consequence. He showed Mr. Scrivener a letter\\nfrom the latter upbraiding him for not using more vigorous means, telling\\nhim to talk less and shoot more, and reprimanding him for not killing more\\nthan one man in a district under his care where there was a little\\ntrouble.\",\n \".\\\"\\n\\nThat last sentence seems the crown of the arch. If the agents on the spot\\ndid not attempt before the Commission to deny the outrages who shall\\nventure to do it in their name?\\n\\nThe remainder of the Report, though stuffed with courtly platitudes and\\nwith vague recommendations of reform which are absolutely unpractical, so\\nlong as the root causes of all the trouble remain undisturbed, contains a\\nfew positive passages which are worth preserving. Talking of the want of\\ndefinite instructions to military expeditions, it says:\\n\\n \\\"The\",\n \"strong then pointed out to the Public Prosecutor in good,\\nstraight terms, which his official superiors might well imitate, that the\\nmatter had gone far enough, that English patience was almost exhausted,\\nand that Mr. Stannard should be baited no longer. The case was dropped.\\n\\nI shall pass straight on now to the most recent reports received from the\\nCongo, to show that there is no difference at all in the general\\ncondition, so far as it is reported by the impartial men at the spot, save\\nthat the actual killings and maimings have\",\n \"President, who had listened, to his honour be it\\nspoken, with tears running down his cheeks to some of the evidence, cried\\nout in amazement and disgust. \\\"There is one document I would put in,\\\" said\\nthe agent. \\\"It is to show that 142 of my sentinels were slain by the\\nvillagers in the course of seven months.\\\" \\\"Surely that makes the matter\\nworse!\\\" cried the sagacious judge. \\\"If these well-armed men were slain by\\nthe defenceless villagers, how terrible must the wrongs have been which\\n\",\n \"who acquiesced\\nin it by their silence), I have marshalled witnesses in their successive\\norder. Messrs. Glave, Murphy and Sjoblom have covered the time from 1894\\nto 1897; Mr. Clark has carried it on to 1900; we have had the deeds of\\n1901-4 as revealed in the Boma Law Courts. I shall now give the experience\\nof Rev. Mr. Scrivener, an English missionary, who in July, August and\\nSeptember, 1903\",\n \"\\n to.\\\"\\n\\nAs he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent\\npeace, his comments become more bitter. The nascent rubber trade began to\\nintrude its methods upon his notice:\\n\\n \\\"Formerly the natives were well treated, but now expeditions have been\\n sent in every direction, forcing natives to make rubber and to bring\\n it to the stations. Up the Ikelemba, we are taking down one hundred\\n slaves, mere children, all taken in unholy wars against the\\n natives.... It was\",\n \"AS.\\n ONE OF THEM SHOWED 120 MURDERS IN HIS VILLAGE COMMITTED DURING THE\\n LAST FEW YEARS. Whatever one may think of the confidence with which\\n this native form of book-keeping may inspire one, a document handed to\\n the Commission by the Director of the A.B.I.R. does not allow any\\n doubt to remain as to the sinister character of the system. It\\n consisted of a list showing that from 1st January to 1st August,\\n 1\"\n ],\n [\n \"the admissions of the Belgian\\nCommission. Not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind\\nthat the accusations of the Reformers have been absolutely proved. It is\\nnot a thing of the past. It is going on at this hour. The Belgian\\nannexation has made no difference. The machinery and the men who work it\\nare the same. There are fewer outrages it is true. The spirit of the\\nunhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them\\nfurther. That their conditions have not improved is shown by\",\n \"His\\n Majesty's Government to confer with the other Powers, signatories of\\n the Berlin General Act, by virtue of which the Congo Free State\\n exists, in order that measures may be adopted to abate the evils\\n prevalent in that State.\\\"\\n\\nIn July of the same year there occurred the famous three days' debate in\\nthe Belgian House, which was really inaugurated by the British resolution.\\nIn this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all\",\n \"fond of advancing will find it hard to reconcile the difference. Lord\\nCromer ends his report:\\n\\n \\\"It appears to me that the facts which I have stated above afford\\n amply sufficient evidence of the spirit which animates the Belgian\\n Administration, if, indeed, Administration it can be called. The\\n Government, so far as I could judge, is conducted almost exclusively\\n on commercial principles, and, even judged by that standard, it would\\n appear that those principles are somewhat short-sighted.\\\"\\n\\nIn the same White Book which contains these documents\",\n \"held by successive Belgian Governments, who did all they could to\\ndiscourage the Reformers. In spite of legal quibbles, it is an insult to\\ncommon sense to suppose that the responsibility for the Congo has not\\nalways rested with Belgium. The Belgian machinery was always ready to help\\nand defend the State, but never to hold it in control and restrain it from\\ncrime.\\n\\nOne chance Belgium had. If immediately upon taking over the State they had\\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\\nwith power to punish for all\",\n \"this debate the two brave Reformers, Vandervelde and Lorand, though\\ncrushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all the honours\\nof war. M. de Favereau, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, alternately\\nexplained that there was no connection at all between Belgium and the\\nCongo State, and that it was a breach of Belgian patriotism to attack the\\nlatter. The policy of the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which\",\n \"the palisades in the\\n form of a cross.\\\"\\n\\nIn the face of these fresh revelations there was an outburst of feeling in\\nBelgium, showing that it is only their ignorance of the true facts which\\nprevents the inhabitants of that country from showing the same humanity as\\nany other civilized nation would do. They have not yet realized the foul\\nthings which have been done in their name. Surely when they do realize it\\nthere will be a terrible reckoning! Some were already very alive to the\\nquestion. MM. Vandervelde and Lorand fought br\",\n \"the definite accusations of Consul\\nCasement, was a demand both in Belgium and in England for an official\\ninquiry. Lord Landsdowne stipulated that this inquiry should be impartial\\nand thorough. It was also suggested by the British Government that it\\nshould be international in character, and separated from the local\\nadministration. Very grudgingly and under constant pressure the King\\nappointed a Commission, but whittled down its powers to such a point that\\nits proceedings must lose all utility. Such were the terms that they\\nprovoked remonstrance from men like\",\n \"and M.\\nVandervelde, the fearless Belgian advocate of liberty, has set forth to\\nact for the accused. What M. Labori was to Dreyfus, M. Vandervelde has\\nbeen to the Congo, save that it is a whole nation who are his clients. He\\nand his noble comrade, Mr. Lorand, are the two men who redeem the record\\nof infamy which must long darken the good name of Belgium.\\n\\nI will now deal swiftly with the records of evil deeds which have occurred\\nsince the time which I\",\n \"o State of\\nwhich these particular companies are merely an outcome. Until it is swept\\nfrom the map there is no hope for the country. You cannot avoid the rank\\nproducts while the putridity remains.\\n\\nThe next document bearing upon the question is from the Rev. H. M.\\nWhiteside, from the notorious A.B.I.R. district. I give it in full, that\\nthe reader may judge for himself how far the direct Belgian rule has\\naltered the situation.\\n\\n \\\"I should like to bring to your notice a few facts regarding the\\n condition\",\n \" '_contrainte par corps_' (bodily detention) during the month has to be\\n furnished in duplicate, the book signed, and one of the copies\\n transmitted to the Government.\\\"\\n\\nWhilst these organized outrages were continuing in the Congo, King\\nLeopold, at Belgium, had taken a fresh step, which, in its cynical\\ndisregard for any attempt at consistency, surpassed any of his previous\\nperformances. Feeling that something must be done in the face of the\\nfinding of his own delegates, he appointed a\",\n \"If immediately upon taking over the State they had\\nformed a Judicial Commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter,\\nwith power to punish for all past offences, and to examine all the\\nscandals of recent years, then they would have done something to clear the\\npast. If on the top of that they had freed the land, given up the system\\nof forced labour entirely, and cancelled the charters of all the\\nconcessionnaire companies, for the obvious reason that they have\\nnotoriously abused their powers, then Belgium could go forward in its\\ncolonizing enterprise on the\",\n \", therefore, since whatever happens must be\\nfor the better.\\n\\nCan a solution be found through Belgium?\\n\\nNo, it is impossible, and that should be recognized from the outset. The\\nBelgians have been given their chance. They have had nearly twenty-five\\nyears of undisturbed possession, and they have made it a hell upon earth.\\nThey cannot disassociate themselves from this work or pretend that it was\\ndone by a separate State. It was done by a Belgian King, Belgian soldiers,\\nBelgian financiers, Belgian lawyers, Belgian capital,\",\n \"had been held up as a step toward improvement. The\\nBritish Government had been assured that his visit would be of a nature to\\neffect all necessary reforms. On arriving in the country, however, he\\nannounced that he had no power to act, and only came to see and hear. Thus\\na few more months were gained before any change could be effected. The\\nonly small consolation which we can draw from all this succession of\\nimpotent ambassadors and reforming committees, which do not, and were\\nnever intended to, reform, is that the game has\",\n \"naire companies, for the obvious reason that they have\\nnotoriously abused their powers, then Belgium could go forward in its\\ncolonizing enterprise on the same terms as other States, with her sins\\nexpiated so far as expiation is now possible.\\n\\nShe did none of these things. For a year now she has herself persevered in\\nthe evil ways of her predecessor. Her colony is a scandal before the whole\\nworld. The era of murders and mutilations has, as we hope, passed by, but\\nthe country is sunk into a state of cowed\",\n \"and sufferings.\\\"\\n\\nThe action was taken for criminal libel by M. Hagstrom against Mr.\\nStannard, for saying that this evidence had been given before the\\nCommission. Of course, the only way to establish the fact was a reference\\nto the evidence itself which lay at Brussels. But as Hagstrom was only a\\npuppet of the higher Government of the Congo (which means the King\\nhimself), in their attempt to revenge themselves upon the missionaries it\\nwas not very likely that official documents would be produced for the mere\\npurpose of serving\",\n \"Grey declared that we\\n\\\"could not wait forever,\\\" and yet we see that he is waiting still. In 1908\\nthe long looked-for annexation came at last, and the Congo State exchanged\\nthe blue flag with the golden star for the tricolour of Belgium. Immediate\\nand radical reforms were promised, but the matter ended as all previous\\npromises have done. In 1909 M. Renkin, the Belgian Colonial Minister, went\\nout to inspect the Congo State, and had the frankness before going to say\\nthat nothing would be\",\n \"Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\\nof Consul Casement. This document, circulated officially all over the\\nglobe, must have opened the eyes of the nations, if any were still shut,\\nto the true object and development of King Leopold's enterprise. It was\\nhoped that this action upon the part of Great Britain would be the first\\nstep toward intervention, and, indeed, Lord Lansdowne made it clear in so\\nmany words that our hand was outstretched, and that if any\",\n \"nation's spirit. We have all\\nfailed at times. But never has there been failure so hopeless, so\\nshocking, bearing such consequences to the world, such degradation to the\\ngood name of Christianity and civilization as the failure of the Belgians\\nin the Congo.\\n\\nAnd all this has happened and all this has been tolerated in an age of\\nprogress. The greatest, deepest, most wide-reaching crime of which there\\nis any record, has been reserved for these latter years. Some excuse there\\nis for racial extermination where, as with Saxons and\",\n \"the Congo State was upheld and defended by the\\nBelgian Government in a way which must forever identify them with all the\\ncrimes which I have recounted. No member of the Congo administration could\\never have expressed the intimate spirit of Congo administration so\\nconcisely as M. de Smet de Naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives:\\n\\\"They are not entitled to anything. What is given them is a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 188\",\n \"patched as Governor-General in place of\\nthat Constermann who had committed suicide after his interview with the\\njudges of the Commission. Wahis had already served two terms as Governor,\\nand it was under his administration that all the abuses the Commission had\\ncondemned had actually grown up. Could King Leopold have shown more\\nclearly how far any real reform was from his mind?\\n\\nM. Malfeyt's visit had been held up as a step toward improvement. The\\nBritish Government had been assured that his visit would be of a nature to\\neffect all necessary\"\n ],\n [\n \"a grand\\nsight to see the banner of humanity and civilization carried forward in\\nsuch a cause by the two great English-speaking nations.\\n\\nARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nINTRODUCTION\\n\\n\\nI am convinced that the reason why public opinion has not been more\\nsensitive upon the question of the Congo Free State, is that the terrible\\nstory has not been brought thoroughly home to the people. Mr. E. D. Morel\\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\\nstruggled hard with very\",\n \" GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIME OF THE CONGO ***\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nProduced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed\\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\\nproduced from images generously made available by The\\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nTHE CRIME OF THE CONGO\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n The Crime of the Congo\\n\\n\\n By A. Conan Doyle\\n\\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc\",\n \"ceived by the general public from the Congo Free State concerned the\\nfounding of new stations, and the idea prevailed that King Leopold's\\nenterprise was indeed working out upon the humanitarian lines which had\\nbeen originally planned. Then, for the first time, incidents occurred\\nwhich gave some glimpse of the violence and anarchy which really\\nprevailed.\\n\\nThe first of these, so far as Great Britain is concerned, lay in the\\ntreatment of natives from Sierra Leone, Lagos, and other British\\nSettlements, who had been engaged by the Belgians to\",\n \"Mr. E. D. Morel\\nhas done the work of ten men, and the Congo Reform Association has\\nstruggled hard with very scanty means; but their time and energies have,\\nfor the most part, been absorbed in dealing with each fresh phase of the\\nsituation as it arose. There is room, therefore, as it seemed to me, for a\\ngeneral account which would cover the whole field and bring the matter up\\nto date. This account must necessarily be a superficial one, if it is to\\nbe produced at such a size and such a price,\",\n \"without their consent as soldiers, and of their having been\\ncruelly flogged, and, in some cases, shot; and he added: \\\"They were\\nengaged with the knowledge of Her Majesty's representatives, and every\\npossible precaution was taken in their interests; but, in consequence of\\nthe complaints received, the recruitment of labourers for the Congo has\\nbeen prohibited.\\\"\\n\\nThis refusal of the recruitment of labourers by Great Britain was the\\nfirst public and national sign of disapproval of Congolese methods. A few\\nyears later,\",\n \"great wastage of the people has\\noccurred where the Congo rule has pressed heavily upon them.\\n\\nSo I bring my task to an end.\\n\\nI look at my statement of the facts and I wince at its many faults of\\nomission. How many specific examples have I left out, how many deductions\\nhave I missed, how many fresh sides to the matter have I neglected. It is\\nhurried and broken, as a man's speech may be hurried and broken when he is\\ndriven to it by a sense of burning injustice and intolerable\",\n \"possible.\\\"\\n\\nAs he goes on his convictions grow stronger:\\n\\n \\\"Everywhere,\\\" he said, \\\"I hear the same news of the doings of the\\n Congo Free State--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. It is\\n said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... In Europe we\\n understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel\\n masters. Not at all! Most of them result from wars made against the\\n natives because of ivory or rubber.\\\"\\n\\nOn\",\n \"ment of labourers by Great Britain was the\\nfirst public and national sign of disapproval of Congolese methods. A few\\nyears later, a more pointed one was given, when the Italian War Ministry\\nrefused to allow their officers to serve with the Congo forces.\\n\\nEarly in 1895 occurred the Stokes affair, which moved public opinion\\ndeeply, both in this country and in Germany. Charles Henry Stokes was an\\nEnglishman by birth, but he resided in German East Africa, was the\\nrecipient of a German Decoration for his services on behalf\",\n \"strong then pointed out to the Public Prosecutor in good,\\nstraight terms, which his official superiors might well imitate, that the\\nmatter had gone far enough, that English patience was almost exhausted,\\nand that Mr. Stannard should be baited no longer. The case was dropped.\\n\\nI shall pass straight on now to the most recent reports received from the\\nCongo, to show that there is no difference at all in the general\\ncondition, so far as it is reported by the impartial men at the spot, save\\nthat the actual killings and maimings have\",\n \"a pure\\ngratuity.\\\" Was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a\\nresponsible statesman! In 1885 a State is formed for the \\\"moral and\\nmaterial improvement of the native races.\\\" In 1903 the native \\\"is not\\nentitled to anything.\\\" The two phrases mark the beginning and the end of\\nKing Leopold's journey.\\n\\nIn 1904 the British Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\\nof Consul Casement.\",\n \"that terrible things\\nbegan to dawn upon him. Casement had travelled in 1887 in the Congo, and\\nwas surprised to note the timidity of the natives. Soon he had his\\nexplanation:\\n\\n \\\"At one of these village, S----, after confidence had been restored\\n and the fugitives had been induced to come in from the surrounding\\n forest, where they had hidden themselves, I saw women coming back,\\n carrying their babies, their household utensils, and even the food\\n they had hastily snatched up,\",\n \"nation's spirit. We have all\\nfailed at times. But never has there been failure so hopeless, so\\nshocking, bearing such consequences to the world, such degradation to the\\ngood name of Christianity and civilization as the failure of the Belgians\\nin the Congo.\\n\\nAnd all this has happened and all this has been tolerated in an age of\\nprogress. The greatest, deepest, most wide-reaching crime of which there\\nis any record, has been reserved for these latter years. Some excuse there\\nis for racial extermination where, as with Saxons and\",\n \"I am\\n near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't\\n stay away.\\\"\\n\\n \\\"I was so moved, your Excellency, at these people's story that I took\\n the liberty of promising them, in the name of the Congo Free State,\\n that you will only kill them in future for crimes. I told them the\\n Inspector Royal was, I hoped, on his way, and that I was sure he would\\n listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves.\\\"\\n\\nIt is terrible to\",\n \"97, a debate was raised on\\nCongo affairs by Sir Charles Dilke without any definite result.\\n\\nOur own troubles in South Africa (troubles which called forth in Belgium a\\nburst of indignation against wholly imaginary British outrages during the\\nwar) left us little time to fulfil our Treaty obligations toward the\\nnatives on the Congo. In 1903 the matter forced itself to the front again,\\nand a considerable debate took place in the House of Commons, which ended\\nby passing a resolution with almost complete unanimity to the following\\n\",\n \"Government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust\\nat the state of affairs on the Congo by publishing the truly awful report\\nof Consul Casement. This document, circulated officially all over the\\nglobe, must have opened the eyes of the nations, if any were still shut,\\nto the true object and development of King Leopold's enterprise. It was\\nhoped that this action upon the part of Great Britain would be the first\\nstep toward intervention, and, indeed, Lord Lansdowne made it clear in so\\nmany words that our hand was outstretched, and that if any\",\n \", what a vast cry\\nwould have reached the heavens. In the Congo hell the most lurid glow is\\nto be found in the Royal Domain. And the money dragged from these tortured\\npeople is used in turn to corrupt newspapers and public men--that it may\\nbe possible to continue the system. So the devil's wheel goes round and\\nround! Here are some extracts from Mr. Murdoch's report:\\n\\n \\\"I remarked to the old chief of the largest town I came across that\\n his people seemed to be numerous. 'Ah,' said he, '\",\n \"ged by that standard, it would\\n appear that those principles are somewhat short-sighted.\\\"\\n\\nIn the same White Book which contains these documents there is printed the\\nCongolese defence drawn up by M. de Cuvelier. The defence consists in\\nsimply ignoring all the definite facts laid before the public, and in\\nmaking such statements as that the British have themselves made war upon\\nnatives, as if there were no distinction between war and massacre, and\\nthat the British have put a poll-tax upon natives, which, if it be\\nreasonable in amount, is\",\n \" The Crime of the Congo\\n\\n\\n By A. Conan Doyle\\n\\n Author of The Great Boer War, etc., etc.\\n\\n\\n New York\\n Doubleday, Page & Company\\n Mcmix\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION\\n INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN\\n\\n COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\\n PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, \",\n \"But, on the other hand, if trade\\nbe put upon this natural basis, then for many years the present owners of\\nthe Congo land, instead of sharing dividends, must pay out at least a\\nmillion a year to administer the country, exactly as England pays half a\\nmillion a year to administer the neighbouring land of Nigeria. To grasp\\nthat fact is to understand the root of the whole question.\\n\\nAnd one more point before we proceed to the dark catalogue of the facts.\\nWhere did the responsibility for these deeds of blood, these thousands of\\ncold-blooded mur\",\n \"\\n\\n \\\"To whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by\\n the Congo natives? To the natives, and to no one else, without their\\n consent and just compensation.\\\"\\n\\nAgain:\\n\\n \\\"To sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the State's\\n appropriation of so-called vacant land on the Congo confronts us with\\n AN IMMENSE EXPROPRIATION.\\\"\\n\\nHe makes a bold attack upon King Leopold's own preserve:\\n\\n \\\"Humanity, whose cause we plead\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["Who were being exploited and tortured?","What trade did the indigenous people belong to?","Why did Conan Doyle believe opinions on the abuse matter were not very harsh?","Who had founded the Congo State?","What continued occurring after the annexation, besides ivory poaching?","Who was exploiting the Congo State, according to Conan?","Who wanted to discourage the Reformers?","How did Conan receive the annexation of the state by Belgium?","How was the rubber trade considered?","What was the so-called region known as?","Who occupied and considered this area his personal property?","How were the indiginous people of the Congo being treated?","What trade was of particular interest?","Why were people perhaps not more sympathetic about the situation?","What was a descriptive name for the occupation?","What group worked to change conditions for the indiginous people?","What was the intended result of the annexation of the state by Belgium?","What activity continued to occur after the annexation?","Who did successive Belgian governments act to discourage?","What did Conan Doyle label the Congo Free State?","Who was this area designated as the personal property of?","What were the human rights conditions there?","Who was being tortured and exploited?","How did Conon Doyle feel about the crimes happening in the Congo Free State?","Whose work was lauded by Conan Doyle?","Why did Belgium annex the state?","What two crimes did Conan Doyle note continued after annexation?","What did Conan Doyle say the Belgium government had done to all efforts of reform?","Why did Doyle feel the public was not sensitive to the people of Congo?"],"string":"[\n \"Who were being exploited and tortured?\",\n \"What trade did the indigenous people belong to?\",\n \"Why did Conan Doyle believe opinions on the abuse matter were not very harsh?\",\n \"Who had founded the Congo State?\",\n \"What continued occurring after the annexation, besides ivory poaching?\",\n \"Who was exploiting the Congo State, according to Conan?\",\n \"Who wanted to discourage the Reformers?\",\n \"How did Conan receive the annexation of the state by Belgium?\",\n \"How was the rubber trade considered?\",\n \"What was the so-called region known as?\",\n \"Who occupied and considered this area his personal property?\",\n \"How were the indiginous people of the Congo being treated?\",\n \"What trade was of particular interest?\",\n \"Why were people perhaps not more sympathetic about the situation?\",\n \"What was a descriptive name for the occupation?\",\n \"What group worked to change conditions for the indiginous people?\",\n \"What was the intended result of the annexation of the state by Belgium?\",\n \"What activity continued to occur after the annexation?\",\n \"Who did successive Belgian governments act to discourage?\",\n \"What did Conan Doyle label the Congo Free State?\",\n \"Who was this area designated as the personal property of?\",\n \"What were the human rights conditions there?\",\n \"Who was being tortured and exploited?\",\n \"How did Conon Doyle feel about the crimes happening in the Congo Free State?\",\n \"Whose work was lauded by Conan Doyle?\",\n \"Why did Belgium annex the state?\",\n \"What two crimes did Conan Doyle note continued after annexation?\",\n \"What did Conan Doyle say the Belgium government had done to all efforts of reform?\",\n \"Why did Doyle feel the public was not sensitive to the people of Congo?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["Indigenous people.","Indigenous people."],["The rubber trade.","rubber trade"],["Because he felt the full story was not yet completely told to people.","because the story has not been thoroughly brought home to people"],["The Belgian King.","The Belgian King"],["Slavery.","Slavery"],["The Belgian capital, its soldiers, and concessionnaries.","The Belgian capital, soldiers, and concessionnaires."],["The Belgian government.","Belgian Governemnts"],["He was dismissive.","with skepticism and criticism"],["Lucrative.","lucrative"],["The Congo Free State.","Congo Free State"],["Leopold II, King of Belgium.","Leopold II of Belgium"],["They were exploited and tortured.","they were exploited and tortured"],["The rubber trade.","rubber"],["Because they didn't know the full story.","Most people had not heard of the human rights abuses occurring there."],["\"rubber regime\"","rubber regime"],["The Congo Reform Association.","Congo Reform Association"],["To end the King's personal rule.","end the personal rule of the King"],["Slavery and ivory poaching.","slavery and poaching"],["Reformers.","reform"],["A rubber regime","rubber regime"],["Leopold II of Belgium","Leopold II of Belgium"],["There were serious abuses.","Bad for the Indigenous people and slaves, probably fine for the Belgians."],["Indigenous people ","Indigenous people."],["They were the greatest ever known.","they might be the worst ever known"],["The Congo Reform Association","Congo Reform Association"],["To end the personal rule of the King.","to end the rule of the Belgian King"],["Slavery and Ivory Poaching","slavery and ivory poaching"],["Everything they could to discourage it.","discourage it"],["The terrible story had been brought home to the people.","because the story has not been thoroughly brought home to the people."]],"string":"[\n [\n \"Indigenous people.\",\n \"Indigenous people.\"\n ],\n [\n \"The rubber trade.\",\n \"rubber trade\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because he felt the full story was not yet completely told to people.\",\n \"because the story has not been thoroughly brought home to people\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Belgian King.\",\n \"The Belgian King\"\n ],\n [\n \"Slavery.\",\n \"Slavery\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Belgian capital, its soldiers, and concessionnaries.\",\n \"The Belgian capital, soldiers, and concessionnaires.\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Belgian government.\",\n \"Belgian Governemnts\"\n ],\n [\n \"He was dismissive.\",\n \"with skepticism and criticism\"\n ],\n [\n \"Lucrative.\",\n \"lucrative\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Congo Free State.\",\n \"Congo Free State\"\n ],\n [\n \"Leopold II, King of Belgium.\",\n \"Leopold II of Belgium\"\n ],\n [\n \"They were exploited and tortured.\",\n \"they were exploited and tortured\"\n ],\n [\n \"The rubber trade.\",\n \"rubber\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because they didn't know the full story.\",\n \"Most people had not heard of the human rights abuses occurring there.\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\\"rubber regime\\\"\",\n \"rubber regime\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Congo Reform Association.\",\n \"Congo Reform Association\"\n ],\n [\n \"To end the King's personal rule.\",\n \"end the personal rule of the King\"\n ],\n [\n \"Slavery and ivory poaching.\",\n \"slavery and poaching\"\n ],\n [\n \"Reformers.\",\n \"reform\"\n ],\n [\n \"A rubber regime\",\n \"rubber regime\"\n ],\n [\n \"Leopold II of Belgium\",\n \"Leopold II of Belgium\"\n ],\n [\n \"There were serious abuses.\",\n \"Bad for the Indigenous people and slaves, probably fine for the Belgians.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Indigenous people \",\n \"Indigenous people.\"\n ],\n [\n \"They were the greatest ever known.\",\n \"they might be the worst ever known\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Congo Reform Association\",\n \"Congo Reform Association\"\n ],\n [\n \"To end the personal rule of the King.\",\n \"to end the rule of the Belgian King\"\n ],\n [\n \"Slavery and Ivory Poaching\",\n \"slavery and ivory poaching\"\n ],\n [\n \"Everything they could to discourage it.\",\n \"discourage it\"\n ],\n [\n \"The terrible story had been brought home to the people.\",\n \"because the story has not been thoroughly brought home to the people.\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"b7524f5bddbb24c1d6d9db65138f9f36b0cb09ce"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":27,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","s. Patrasche was very happy.\n\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\n\n\n\n\n\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\n","had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d","young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \"It is too late.\"\n\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\n\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\nhad taken the","vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","heumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\nyear of age, and knowing the town well from having accompanied his\ngrandfather so many times, took his place beside the cart, and sold the\nmilk and received the coins in exchange, and brought them back to their\nrespective owners with a pretty grace and seriousness which charmed all\nwho beheld him.\n\nThe little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender\neyes, and a lovely bloom upon","sons, and in his death\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\n\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.","most they could do.\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\n\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\n\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from","sports or\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\nevery change of mood.\n\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\naccepted he himself should be denied.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nBut he did not complain: it was his","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would","ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\n\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis","and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\n\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\n","thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was","the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","not?\" said the old man Daas that night\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\n\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\n\n\"And why not there?\" his grandfather pursued. \"Thou hast never missed a\nyear before, Nello.\"\n\n\"Thou art too sick to leave,\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with"],[", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\n\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\nPatrasche.\n\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\neffort, drew the sufferer","Jehan Daas was old and a cripple, and Nello\nwas but a child; and Patrasche was their dog.\n\n\n\nA dog of Flanders--yellow of hide, large of head and limb, with\nwolf-like ears that stood erect, and legs bowed and feet widened in the\nmuscular development wrought in his breed by many generations of hard\nservice. Patrasche came of a race which had toiled hard and cruelly from\nsire to son in Flanders many a century--slaves of slaves, dogs of the","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","s. Patrasche was very happy.\n\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\n\n\n\n\n\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\n","alpha and omega; their treasury and granary;\ntheir store of gold and wand of wealth; their bread-winner and minister;\ntheir only friend and comforter. Patrasche dead or gone from them, they\nmust have laid themselves down and died likewise. Patrasche was body,\nbrains, hands, head, and feet to both of them: Patrasche was their very\nlife, their very soul. For Jehan Daas was old and a cripple, and Nello\nwas but a child; and Patrasche was their dog.\n\n\n","feeble from hunger and sorrow.\n\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\nthere stood a little Calvary","together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\n\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\n\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\" he murmured. \"We will not\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\"\n\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they","ost\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\"\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\ncollar of gold, and place","aloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung round his rugged\nneck with chains of marguerites, and kissed him with fresh and ruddy\nlips.\n\nSo then, when Patrasche arose, himself again, strong, big, gaunt,\npowerful, his great wistful eyes had a gentle astonishment in them that\nthere were no curses to rouse him and no blows to drive him; and\nhis heart awakened to a mighty","\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\n\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\npast","ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\n\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\nforever","\nsaid kindly through her tears. \"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\nWe are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money\nthat he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will\nfind it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own\njudgment for the things we have done to thee.\"\n\nNello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the\nhouse. \"Patrasche found the money to-night,\" he","other\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\n\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\non the edge","his belled harness that\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\nwhich had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave,\ninnocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.\n\nNello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that\nJehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no\nneed to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream",", whose fire was often low, and whose\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\nhad taken to drive his mule in of a day for the milk of the various\ndairies, and there were only three or four of the people who had refused\nhis terms of purchase and remained faithful to the little green cart.\nSo that the burden which Patrasche drew had become very light, and the\ncentime-pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.\n\nThe dog would stop, as usual, at all the","warmth and abundance\neverywhere, and the child would fain have made the dog a guest honored\nand feasted.\n\nBut Patrasche would neither lie in the warmth nor share in the cheer.\nFamished he was and very cold, but without Nello he would partake\nneither of comfort nor food. Against all temptation he was proof, and\nclose against the door he leaned always, watching only for a means of\nescape.\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the",".\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\" For no one but Patrasche knew\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\n\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\ngoose baking for supper","teeth a small case of\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\nthere stood a little Calvary, and a lamp burned dully under the cross:\nthe boy mechanically turned the case to the light: on it was the name of\nBaas Cogez, and within it were notes for two thousand francs.\n\nThe sight roused the lad a little from his stupor. He thrust it in his\nshirt, and stroked Patrasche and drew him onward. The dog looked up\nwistfully in his face","in them that\nthere were no curses to rouse him and no blows to drive him; and\nhis heart awakened to a mighty love, which never wavered once in its\nfidelity whilst life abode with him.\n\nBut Patrasche, being a dog, was grateful. Patrasche lay pondering long\nwith grave, tender, musing brown eyes, watching the movements of his\nfriends.\n\nNow, the old soldier, Jehan Daas, could do nothing for his living but\nlimp about a little with a small cart, with which he","old, and he\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\"\n\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\nand rye being very dear that season. The boy and the dog went on again\nwearily: they asked no more.\n\nBy slow and painful ways they reached Antwerp as the chimes tolled ten.\n\n\"If I had anything about me I could sell to get him bread!\" thought\nNello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood"],["s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward\nindependence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly,\nand yet passionately adored.\n\nHe said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood,\nand little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and\nwhispered, \"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew","ost\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\"\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\ncollar of gold, and place","carry it through the darkness to the silent\ntown. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years,\nthat were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old\nage, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would\nnever give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him\nand drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he\nwould ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the\ntruck as it lumbered along through the ice-","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","his belled harness that\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\nwhich had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave,\ninnocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.\n\nNello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that\nJehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no\nneed to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream","heumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\nyear of age, and knowing the town well from having accompanied his\ngrandfather so many times, took his place beside the cart, and sold the\nmilk and received the coins in exchange, and brought them back to their\nrespective owners with a pretty grace and seriousness which charmed all\nwho beheld him.\n\nThe little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender\neyes, and a lovely bloom upon","not?\" said the old man Daas that night\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\n\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\n\n\"And why not there?\" his grandfather pursued. \"Thou hast never missed a\nyear before, Nello.\"\n\n\"Thou art too sick to leave,\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with","vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","sports or\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\nevery change of mood.\n\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\naccepted he himself should be denied.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nBut he did not complain: it was his",", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\npeople who dwelt there.\n\n\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\" he said, timidly. \"He is old, and he\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\"\n\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\nand","had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d","the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying","was out in terror, and engines came tearing\nthrough the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose\nnothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that\nthe fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.\n\nNello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez\nthrust him angrily aside. \"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\" he said\nroughly. \"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of"],["He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\n\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\n","thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","of snow\nupon the dark stone floor. By that slender white thread, frozen as it\nfell, he was guided through the intense silence, through the immensity\nof the vaulted space--guided straight to the gates of the chancel, and,\nstretched there upon the stones, he found Nello. He crept up and touched\nthe face of the boy. \"Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and\nforsake thee? I--a dog?\" said that mute caress.\n\nThe lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close",", he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\ntambourine-player into her hands. \"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\nAlois. Take it,\" he whispered--\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\"\n\nHe slid","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","and sobbed piteously because\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \"It shall be different\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying",", and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\n\n[Illustration: child] [Illustration: NELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A\nSTICK OF CHARCOAL] [Illustration: couple walking]\n\nOne day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on\na pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\nh","It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his\nbest: the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent,\nunquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel\namong the willows and the poplar-trees.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nThe winter was very sharp already. That night, after they reached the\nhut, snow fell; and fell for very many days","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","sons, and in his death\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\n\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.","vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","most they could do.\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\n\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\n\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would","upon the two pictures above, from which the boy on his\nentrance had flung back the veil: the Elevation and the Descent of the\nCross were for one instant visible.\n\nNello rose to his feet and stretched his arms to them; the tears of a\npassionate ecstasy glistened on the paleness of his face. \"I have seen\nthem at last!\" he cried aloud. \"O God, it is enough!\"\n\nHis limbs failed under him, and he sank upon his knees, still gazing\nupward at the majesty that"],["wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","sports or\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\nevery change of mood.\n\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\naccepted he himself should be denied.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nBut he did not complain: it was his","the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward\nindependence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly,\nand yet passionately adored.\n\nHe said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood,\nand little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and\nwhispered, \"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew","thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was","Thou wert loitering here after dark,\" he said\nroughly. \"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the fire\nthan any one.\"\n\nNello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could\nsay such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could\npass a jest at such a time.\n\nNevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\never preferred against the lad,","\nboy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a fallen tree at\neventide--that was all his theme. But there was greatness for the future\nin it. I would fain find him, and take him with me and teach him Art.\"\n\nAnd a little child with curling fair hair, sobbing bitterly as she clung\nto her father's arm, cried aloud, \"Oh, Nello, come! We have all ready\nfor thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old piper\nwill play for","ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\n\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis","ost\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\"\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\ncollar of gold, and place","and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\n\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\n","most they could do.\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\n\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\n\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from",", he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\ntambourine-player into her hands. \"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\nAlois. Take it,\" he whispered--\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\"\n\nHe slid","\ndescending night behind him.\n\nIt was rude, of course, in a way, and had many faults, no doubt; and yet\nit was real, true in nature, true in art, and very mournful, and in a\nmanner beautiful.\n\nPatrasche had lain quiet countless hours watching its gradual creation\nafter the labor of each day was done, and he knew that Nello had a\nhope--vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich"],["Thou wert loitering here after dark,\" he said\nroughly. \"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the fire\nthan any one.\"\n\nNello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could\nsay such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could\npass a jest at such a time.\n\nNevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\never preferred against the lad,","was out in terror, and engines came tearing\nthrough the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose\nnothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that\nthe fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.\n\nNello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez\nthrust him angrily aside. \"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\" he said\nroughly. \"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of","Nello and Patrasche\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings\nto which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's\nabsurd suspicion, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the\npeople were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of\nthe place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\n\n\"Thou art very cruel to",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","the brutal thing openly to many of his\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\never preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had been\nseen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that he\nbore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little\nAlois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest\nlandowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches\nof Alois in some future","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung",". Nello, in his innocence and his\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\n\n\"Thou art very cruel to the lad,\" the miller's wife dared to say,\nweeping, to her lord. \"Sure he is an innocent lad and a faithful, and\nwould never dream of any such wickedness, however sore his heart might\nbe.\"\n\nBut Baas Cogez being an obstinate man, having once said a thing held\nto it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice\n","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","\nashamed and almost afraid. \"I have been cruel to the lad,\" he muttered\nat length: \"I deserved not to have good at his hands.\"\n\nLittle Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled\nagainst him her fair curly head. \"Nello may come here again, father?\"\nshe whispered. \"He may come to-morrow as he used to do?\"\n\nThe miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very\npale and his mouth trembled. \"Surely, surely,\" he answered","the only light and warmth there could\nbe found abode beside the village hearths and in the kindly greetings of\nneighbors. In the winter-time all drew nearer to each other, all to all,\nexcept to Nello and Patrasche, with whom none now would have anything\nto do, and who were left to fare as they might with the old paralyzed,\nbedridden man in the little cabin, whose fire was often low, and whose\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\nhad taken to drive his m","and sobbed piteously because\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \"It shall be different\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always","not?\" said the old man Daas that night\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\n\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\n\n\"And why not there?\" his grandfather pursued. \"Thou hast never missed a\nyear before, Nello.\"\n\n\"Thou art too sick to leave,\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with","of snow\nupon the dark stone floor. By that slender white thread, frozen as it\nfell, he was guided through the intense silence, through the immensity\nof the vaulted space--guided straight to the gates of the chancel, and,\nstretched there upon the stones, he found Nello. He crept up and touched\nthe face of the boy. \"Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and\nforsake thee? I--a dog?\" said that mute caress.\n\nThe lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close",",\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does\nscores of times. What is the cause, Nello?\" the old man persisted. \"Thou\nsurely hast not had ill words with the little one?\"\n\n\"Nay, grandfather--never,\" said the boy quickly, with a hot color in\nhis bent face. \"Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this\nyear. He has taken some whim against me.\"\n","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would","the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was","lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\ncompanion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive,\nwas quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of\nPatrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to\nthe old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know:\nhe supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the\nportrait of Alois in the me"],["barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","ried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all\nwould he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the\nstones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch\nhimself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain,\nuntil the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and\nwinding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would","\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\n\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\npast","It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his\nbest: the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent,\nunquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel\namong the willows and the poplar-trees.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nThe winter was very sharp already. That night, after they reached the\nhut, snow fell; and fell for very many days","young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \"It is too late.\"\n\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\n\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\nhad taken the","them in the air, and ever and\nagain out of their arched doors a swell of music pealing. There they\nremain, the grand old sanctuaries of the past, shut in amidst the\nsqualor, the hurry, the crowds, the unloveliness, and the commerce of\nthe modern world, and all day long the clouds drift and the birds circle\nand the winds sigh around them, and beneath the earth at their feet\nthere sleeps--RUBENS.\n\nAnd the greatness of the mighty Master still rests upon Antwerp, and\nwherever","udged to Stephen Kiesslinger, born in the burgh of Antwerp,\nson of a wharfinger in that town.\n\nWhen Nello recovered his consciousness he was lying on the stones\nwithout, and Patrasche was trying with every art he knew to call him\nback to life. In the distance a throng of the youths of Antwerp were\nshouting around their successful comrade, and escorting him with\nacclamations to his home upon the quay.\n\nThe boy staggered to his feet and drew the dog into his embrace. \"It is\nall","old, and he\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\"\n\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\nand rye being very dear that season. The boy and the dog went on again\nwearily: they asked no more.\n\nBy slow and painful ways they reached Antwerp as the chimes tolled ten.\n\n\"If I had anything about me I could sell to get him bread!\" thought\nNello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood","oly clock almost from their birth\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\non the edge of the village, with the cathedral spire of Antwerp rising\nin the north-east, beyond the great green plain of seeding grass and\nspreading corn that stretched away from them like a tideless, changeless\nsea. It was the hut of a very old man, of a very poor man--of old Jehan\nDaas, who in his time had been a soldier, and who remembered the wars\nthat had trampled the","vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","other\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\n\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\non the edge","the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying","was out in terror, and engines came tearing\nthrough the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose\nnothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that\nthe fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.\n\nNello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez\nthrust him angrily aside. \"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\" he said\nroughly. \"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of","wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always, dear little Alois, only\nlove me always, and I will be great.\"\n\n\"And if I do not love you?\" the pretty child asked, pouting a little\nthrough her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex.\n\nNello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was","master into trouble, he\ndesisted, and remained couched patiently before the churches until such\ntime as the boy reappeared. It was not the fact of his going into them\nwhich disturbed Patrasche: he knew that people went to church: all\nthe village went to the small, tumbledown, gray pile opposite the red\nwindmill.\n\nWhat troubled him was that little Nello always looked strangely when\nhe came out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay","not?\" said the old man Daas that night\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\n\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\n\n\"And why not there?\" his grandfather pursued. \"Thou hast never missed a\nyear before, Nello.\"\n\n\"Thou art too sick to leave,\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","most they could do.\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\n\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\n\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from","sons, and in his death\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\n\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion."],["young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \"It is too late.\"\n\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\n\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\nhad taken the",", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\n\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\nPatrasche.\n\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\neffort, drew the sufferer","\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\n\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\npast","s. Patrasche was very happy.\n\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\n\n\n\n\n\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\n","together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\n\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\n\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\" he murmured. \"We will not\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\"\n\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they","feeble from hunger and sorrow.\n\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\nthere stood a little Calvary","when the grave was closed\nand the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's\nhands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound\nwhere the snow was displaced.\n\nNello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts. But even of that poor,\nmelancholy, cheerless home they were denied the consolation. There was a\nmonth's rent over-due for their little home, and when Nello had paid the\nlast sad service to the dead he had not a","ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\n\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\nforever","they would all go in together to their meal of\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\nthe burgh of Rubens it","other\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\n\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\non the edge",", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\npeople who dwelt there.\n\n\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\" he said, timidly. \"He is old, and he\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\"\n\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\nand","Nello and Patrasche\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings\nto which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's\nabsurd suspicion, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the\npeople were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of\nthe place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\n\n\"Thou art very cruel to","\nsaid kindly through her tears. \"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\nWe are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money\nthat he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will\nfind it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own\njudgment for the things we have done to thee.\"\n\nNello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the\nhouse. \"Patrasche found the money to-night,\" he",".\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\" For no one but Patrasche knew\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\n\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\ngoose baking for supper","uring animal, and because he himself had now the hard task\nof pushing his charette all the way to Louvain. But to stay to look\nafter Patrasche never entered his thoughts: the beast was dying and\nuseless, and he would steal, to replace him, the first large dog that he\nfound wandering alone out of sight of its master. Patrasche had cost him\nnothing, or next to nothing, and for two long, cruel years had made him\ntoil ceaselessly in his service from sunrise to sunset, through summer\nand winter, in fair weather",", whose fire was often low, and whose\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\nhad taken to drive his mule in of a day for the milk of the various\ndairies, and there were only three or four of the people who had refused\nhis terms of purchase and remained faithful to the little green cart.\nSo that the burden which Patrasche drew had become very light, and the\ncentime-pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.\n\nThe dog would stop, as usual, at all the","carry it through the darkness to the silent\ntown. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years,\nthat were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old\nage, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would\nnever give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him\nand drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he\nwould ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the\ntruck as it lumbered along through the ice-","ried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all\nwould he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the\nstones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch\nhimself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain,\nuntil the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and\nwinding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on","at\nonce. But the old man was very gentle and good to the boy, and the boy\nwas a beautiful, innocent, truthful, tender-hearted creature; and they\nwere happy on a crust and a few leaves of cabbage, and asked no more of\nearth or heaven; save indeed that Patrasche should be always with them,\nsince without Patrasche where would they have been?\n\nFor Patrasche was their alpha and omega; their treasury and granary;\ntheir store of gold and wand of wealth; their bread-winner and minister;\n","and place himself in his shafts,\nand plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round feet\nhad left their print upon so many, many years.\n\n\"One must never rest till one dies,\" thought Patrasche; and sometimes it\nseemed to him that that time of rest for him was not very far off. His\nsight was less clear than it had been, and it gave him pain to rise\nafter the night's sleep, though he would never lie a moment in his straw\nwhen once the bell of the chapel tolling five let him know that the\n"],["vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\n\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis","opened; the eager,\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden dais..\n\nA mist obscured Nello's sight, his head swam, his limbs almost failed\nhim. When his vision cleared he saw the drawing raised on high: it was\nnot his own! A slow, sonorous voice was proclaiming aloud that victory\nhad been adjudged to Stephen Kiesslinger, born in the burgh of Antwerp,\nson of a wharfinger in that town.\n\n","\ndescending night behind him.\n\nIt was rude, of course, in a way, and had many faults, no doubt; and yet\nit was real, true in nature, true in art, and very mournful, and in a\nmanner beautiful.\n\nPatrasche had lain quiet countless hours watching its gradual creation\nafter the labor of each day was done, and he knew that Nello had a\nhope--vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich","first day of December, and the\ndecision be given on the twenty-fourth, so that he who should win might\nrejoice with all his people at the Christmas season.\n\nIn the twilight of a bitter wintry day, and with a beating heart, now\nquick with hope, now faint with fear, Nello placed the great picture\non his little green milk-cart, and took it, with the help of Patrasche,\ninto the town, and there left it, as enjoined, at the doors of a public\nbuilding.\n\n\"Perhaps it is worth",". Only to Patrasche he told all, and\nwhispered, \"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew.\"\n\nPatrasche thought so too, for he knew that Rubens had loved dogs or he\nhad never painted them with such exquisite fidelity; and men who loved\ndogs were, as Patrasche knew, always pitiful.\n\nThe drawings were to go in on the first day of December, and the\ndecision be given on the twenty-fourth, so that he who should win might\nrejoice with all",",\ninto the town, and there left it, as enjoined, at the doors of a public\nbuilding.\n\n\"Perhaps it is worth nothing at all. How can I tell?\" he thought, with\nthe heart-sickness of a great timidity. Now that he had left it there,\nit seemed to him so hazardous, so vain, so foolish, to dream that he,\na little lad with bare feet, who barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as","had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d","the lad,\" he muttered, \"and now I would have\nmade amends--yea, to the half of my substance--and he should have been\nto me as a son.\"\n\nThere came also, as the day grew apace, a painter who had fame in the\nworld, and who was liberal of hand and of spirit. \"I seek one who should\nhave had the prize yesterday had worth won,\" he said to the people--\"a\nboy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a fallen tree at\neventide--that was all his theme. But there was","he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured.\n\nThe miller was silent: then he stretched his hand out with a franc in\nit. \"It is folly, as I say, and evil waste of time: nevertheless, it is\nlike Alois, and will please the house-mother. Take this silver bit for\nit and leave it for me.\"\n\nThe color died out of the face of the young Ardennois; he lifted\nhis head and put his hands behind","as the price for looking on the\nglories of the Elevation of the Cross and the Descent of the Cross was\na thing as utterly beyond the powers of either of them as it would have\nbeen to scale the heights of the cathedral spire. They had never so much\nas a sou to spare: if they cleared enough to get a little wood for the\nstove, a little broth for the pot, it was the utmost they could do.\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\nbeholding the greatness of the two","held him.\n\nThe little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender\neyes, and a lovely bloom upon his face, and fair locks that clustered to\nhis throat; and many an artist sketched the group as it went by him--the\ngreen cart with the brass flagons of Teniers and Mieris and Van Tal,\nand the great tawny-colored, massive dog, with his belled harness that\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\nwhich had little white feet in great","the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward\nindependence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly,\nand yet passionately adored.\n\nHe said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood,\nand little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and\nwhispered, \"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew","up for her first communion her flaxen curls were covered with a\ncap of richest Mechlin lace, which had been her mother's and her\ngrandmother's before it came to her. Men spoke already, though she had\nbut twelve years, of the good wife she would be for their sons to woo\nand win; but she herself was a little gay, simple child, in nowise\nconscious of her heritage, and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\n\n[Illustration:","whilst his gift was\naccepted he himself should be denied.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nBut he did not complain: it was his habit to be quiet: old Jehan Daas\nhad said ever to him, \"We are poor: we must take what God sends--the ill\nwith the good: the poor cannot choose.\"\n\nTo which the boy had always listened in silence, being reverent of his\nold grandfather; but nevertheless a certain vague, sweet hope, such as\nbeguiles the children of genius, had whispered in his heart, \"Yet the\npoor do",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw him draw with chalk upon\nthe stones any and every thing that grew or breathed, heard him on his\nlittle bed of hay murmur all manner of timid, pathetic prayers to the\nspirit of the great Master; watched his gaze darken and his face radiate\nat the evening glow of sunset or the rosy rising of the dawn; and felt\nmany and many a time the tears of a strange, nameless pain and joy",", and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\n\n[Illustration: child] [Illustration: NELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A\nSTICK OF CHARCOAL] [Illustration: couple walking]\n\nOne day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on\na pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\nh","most they could do.\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\n\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\n\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from","crackled and flamed on the\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\ngoose baking for supper. Alois, gleeful and sure of her playmate back\non the morrow, bounded and sang and tossed back her yellow hair. Baas\nCogez, in the fulness of his heart, smiled on her through moistened\neyes, and spoke of the way in which he would befriend her favorite\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\nspinning-wheel; the cuck"],["s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward\nindependence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly,\nand yet passionately adored.\n\nHe said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood,\nand little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and\nwhispered, \"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","carry it through the darkness to the silent\ntown. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years,\nthat were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old\nage, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would\nnever give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him\nand drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he\nwould ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the\ntruck as it lumbered along through the ice-",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","ost\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\"\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\ncollar of gold, and place","vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","heumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\nyear of age, and knowing the town well from having accompanied his\ngrandfather so many times, took his place beside the cart, and sold the\nmilk and received the coins in exchange, and brought them back to their\nrespective owners with a pretty grace and seriousness which charmed all\nwho beheld him.\n\nThe little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender\neyes, and a lovely bloom upon","not?\" said the old man Daas that night\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\n\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\n\n\"And why not there?\" his grandfather pursued. \"Thou hast never missed a\nyear before, Nello.\"\n\n\"Thou art too sick to leave,\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with","his belled harness that\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\nwhich had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave,\ninnocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.\n\nNello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that\nJehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no\nneed to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","sports or\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\nevery change of mood.\n\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\naccepted he himself should be denied.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nBut he did not complain: it was his","had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d","\ndescending night behind him.\n\nIt was rude, of course, in a way, and had many faults, no doubt; and yet\nit was real, true in nature, true in art, and very mournful, and in a\nmanner beautiful.\n\nPatrasche had lain quiet countless hours watching its gradual creation\nafter the labor of each day was done, and he knew that Nello had a\nhope--vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich","was out in terror, and engines came tearing\nthrough the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose\nnothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that\nthe fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.\n\nNello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez\nthrust him angrily aside. \"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\" he said\nroughly. \"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of",".\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\" For no one but Patrasche knew\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\n\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\ngoose baking for supper","obstinate man, having once said a thing held\nto it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice\nthat he was committing.\n\nMeanwhile, Nello endured the injury done against him with a certain\nproud patience that disdained to complain: he only gave way a little\nwhen he was quite alone with old Patrasche. Besides, he thought, \"If it\nshould win! They will be sorry then, perhaps.\"\n\nStill, to a boy not quite sixteen, and who had dwelt in one little world\nall"],[",\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does\nscores of times. What is the cause, Nello?\" the old man persisted. \"Thou\nsurely hast not had ill words with the little one?\"\n\n\"Nay, grandfather--never,\" said the boy quickly, with a hot color in\nhis bent face. \"Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this\nyear. He has taken some whim against me.\"\n","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish",", and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\n\n[Illustration: child] [Illustration: NELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A\nSTICK OF CHARCOAL] [Illustration: couple walking]\n\nOne day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on\na pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\nh","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","sports or\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\nevery change of mood.\n\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\naccepted he himself should be denied.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nBut he did not complain: it was his","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","and sobbed piteously because\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \"It shall be different\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always","and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\n\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\n","would befriend her favorite\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\nspinning-wheel; the cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst\nit all Patrasche was bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry\nthere a cherished guest. But neither peace nor plenty could allure him\nwhere Nello was not.\n\nWhen the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\n",", he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\ntambourine-player into her hands. \"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\nAlois. Take it,\" he whispered--\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\"\n\nHe slid","\nashamed and almost afraid. \"I have been cruel to the lad,\" he muttered\nat length: \"I deserved not to have good at his hands.\"\n\nLittle Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled\nagainst him her fair curly head. \"Nello may come here again, father?\"\nshe whispered. \"He may come to-morrow as he used to do?\"\n\nThe miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very\npale and his mouth trembled. \"Surely, surely,\" he answered","wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always, dear little Alois, only\nlove me always, and I will be great.\"\n\n\"And if I do not love you?\" the pretty child asked, pouting a little\nthrough her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex.\n\nNello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was","lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\ncompanion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive,\nwas quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of\nPatrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to\nthe old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know:\nhe supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the\nportrait of Alois in the me","not?\" said the old man Daas that night\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\n\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\n\n\"And why not there?\" his grandfather pursued. \"Thou hast never missed a\nyear before, Nello.\"\n\n\"Thou art too sick to leave,\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with","the brutal thing openly to many of his\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\never preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had been\nseen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that he\nbore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little\nAlois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest\nlandowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches\nof Alois in some future","ost\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\"\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\ncollar of gold, and place","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","Nello and Patrasche\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings\nto which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's\nabsurd suspicion, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the\npeople were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of\nthe place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\n\n\"Thou art very cruel to"],["together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\n\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\n\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\" he murmured. \"We will not\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\"\n\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they","ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\n\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\nforever","\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\n\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\npast",", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\n\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\nPatrasche.\n\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\neffort, drew the sufferer","on the board, and the voices were loudest\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\nPatrasche, watching always an occasion, glided out when the door was\nunlatched by a careless new-comer, and as swiftly as his weak and tired\nlimbs would bear him sped over the snow in the bitter, black night. He\nhad only one thought--to follow Nello. A human friend might have paused\nfor the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that\nwas","other\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\n\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\non the edge","and trod onward\nwith steady patience.\n\n\"Rest thee at home, Patrasche--it is time thou didst rest--and I can\nquite well push in the cart by myself,\" urged Nello many a morning; but\nPatrasche, who understood him aright, would no more have consented\nto stay at home than a veteran soldier to shirk when the charge was\nsounding; and every day he would rise and place himself in his shafts,\nand plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round feet\nhad left their print upon so many","pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.\n\nThe dog would stop, as usual, at all the familiar gates, which were now\nclosed to him, and look up at them with wistful, mute appeal; and it\ncost the neighbors a pang to shut their doors and their hearts, and let\nPatrasche draw his cart on again, empty. Nevertheless, they did it, for\nthey desired to please Baas Cogez.\n\nNoël was close at hand.\n\nThe weather was very wild and cold. The","feeble from hunger and sorrow.\n\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\nthere stood a little Calvary","\nsaid kindly through her tears. \"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\nWe are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money\nthat he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will\nfind it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own\njudgment for the things we have done to thee.\"\n\nNello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the\nhouse. \"Patrasche found the money to-night,\" he","would befriend her favorite\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\nspinning-wheel; the cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst\nit all Patrasche was bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry\nthere a cherished guest. But neither peace nor plenty could allure him\nwhere Nello was not.\n\nWhen the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\n",".\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\" For no one but Patrasche knew\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\n\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\ngoose baking for supper",", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\npeople who dwelt there.\n\n\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\" he said, timidly. \"He is old, and he\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\"\n\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\nand","follow Nello. A human friend might have paused\nfor the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that\nwas not the friendship of Patrasche. He remembered a bygone time, when\nan old man and a little child had found him sick unto death in the\nwayside ditch.\n\nSnow had fallen freshly all the evening long; it was now nearly ten; the\ntrail of the boy's footsteps was almost obliterated. It took Patrasche\nlong to discover any scent. When at last he found it, it","come! We have all ready\nfor thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old piper\nwill play for us; and the mother says thou shalt stay by the hearth and\nburn nuts with us all the Noël week long--yes, even to the Feast of the\nKings! And Patrasche will be so happy! Oh, Nello, wake and come!\"\n\nBut the young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \"It is too late.\"","they would all go in together to their meal of\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\nthe burgh of Rubens it","young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \"It is too late.\"\n\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\n\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\nhad taken the","need to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream and pray\na little, and then awake again as the clock tolled three and watch for\ntheir return. And on their return Patrasche would shake himself free of\nhis harness with a bay of glee, and Nello would recount with pride the\ndoings of the day; and they would all go in together to their meal of\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\ngreat","his belled harness that\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\nwhich had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave,\ninnocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.\n\nNello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that\nJehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no\nneed to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream","winter the winds found many holes in the walls\nof the poor little hut, and the vine was black and leafless, and the\nbare lands looked very bleak and drear without, and sometimes within the\nfloor was flooded and then frozen. In winter it was hard, and the snow\nnumbed the little white limbs of Nello, and the icicles cut the brave,\nuntiring feet of Patrasche.\n\nBut even then they were never heard to lament, either of them. The\nchild's wooden shoes and the dog's four legs would trot"],["edly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood in a small plot of garden-ground that yielded\nbeans and herbs and pumpkins. They were very poor, terribly poor--many a\nday they had nothing at all to eat. They never by any chance had enough:\nto have had enough to eat would have been to have reached paradise at\nonce. But the old man was very gentle and good to the boy, and the boy\nwas a beautiful, innocent, truthful, tender-","crackled and flamed on the\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\ngoose baking for supper. Alois, gleeful and sure of her playmate back\non the morrow, bounded and sang and tossed back her yellow hair. Baas\nCogez, in the fulness of his heart, smiled on her through moistened\neyes, and spoke of the way in which he would befriend her favorite\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\nspinning-wheel; the cuck","Thou wert loitering here after dark,\" he said\nroughly. \"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the fire\nthan any one.\"\n\nNello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could\nsay such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could\npass a jest at such a time.\n\nNevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\never preferred against the lad,","feeble from hunger and sorrow.\n\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\nthere stood a little Calvary","in the\nshadows--now and then a gleam of light came on the ranks of carven\nfigures. Under the Rubens they lay together quite still, and soothed\nalmost into a dreaming slumber by the numbing narcotic of the cold.\nTogether they dreamed of the old glad days when they had chased each\nother through the flowering grasses of the summer meadows, or sat hidden\nin the tall bulrushes by the water's side, watching the boats go seaward\nin the sun.\n\nSuddenly through the darkness a great","and form.\"\n\n\"And he is a good lad and a loyal,\" said the housewife, feasting her\neyes on the piece of pine wood where it was throned above the chimney\nwith a cuckoo clock in oak and a Calvary in wax.\n\n\"Yea, I do not gainsay that,\" said the miller, draining his pewter\nflagon.\n\n\"Then, if what you think of were ever to come to pass,\" said the wife,\nhesitatingly, \"would it matter so much? She will have enough for","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","age by length of years, yet one was still young, and the other was\nalready old. They had dwelt together almost all their days: both were\norphaned and destitute, and owed their lives to the same hand. It\nhad been the beginning of the tie between them, their first bond of\nsympathy; and it had strengthened day by day, and had grown with\ntheir growth, firm and indissoluble, until they loved one another very\ngreatly. Their home was a little hut on the edge of a little village--a\nFlemish village","they would all go in together to their meal of\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\nthe burgh of Rubens it","of\nbread; and the hearts of the old man and the old dog ached together with\none thought: When they were gone, who would care for their darling?\n\nOne afternoon, as they came back from Antwerp over the snow, which had\nbecome hard and smooth as marble over all the Flemish plains, they found\ndropped in the road a pretty little puppet, a tambourine--player, all\nscarlet and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its","and its\nflowering beans, it was so pretty and bright in the midst of the\nsunlighted fields! There life in it had been full of labor and\nprivation, and yet they had been so well content, so gay of heart,\nrunning together to meet the old man's never-failing smile of welcome!\n\nAll night long the boy and the dog sat by the fireless hearth in the\ndarkness, drawn close together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\n\nWhen the morning broke","\nashamed and almost afraid. \"I have been cruel to the lad,\" he muttered\nat length: \"I deserved not to have good at his hands.\"\n\nLittle Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled\nagainst him her fair curly head. \"Nello may come here again, father?\"\nshe whispered. \"He may come to-morrow as he used to do?\"\n\nThe miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very\npale and his mouth trembled. \"Surely, surely,\" he answered","not?\" said the old man Daas that night\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\n\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\n\n\"And why not there?\" his grandfather pursued. \"Thou hast never missed a\nyear before, Nello.\"\n\n\"Thou art too sick to leave,\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with","were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was but a child, yet he smiled, for\nhe said to himself, \"In the future!\" He stayed there until all was quite\nstill and dark, then he and Patrasche went within and slept together,\nlong and deeply, side by side.\n\n\n\nNow he had a secret which only Patrasche knew. There was a little\nout-house to the hut, which no one entered but himself--a dreary place,\n","ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\n\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\nforever","! They will be sorry then, perhaps.\"\n\nStill, to a boy not quite sixteen, and who had dwelt in one little world\nall his short life, and in his childhood had been caressed and applauded\non all sides, it was a hard trial to have the whole of that little world\nturn against him for naught. Especially hard in that bleak, snow-bound,\nfamine-stricken winter-time, when the only light and warmth there could\nbe found abode beside the village hearths and in the kindly greetings of\nneighbors","their return. They mourned for him unceasingly, refusing to be\ncomforted, as in the white winter day they followed the deal shell that\nheld his body to the nameless grave by the little gray church. They were\nhis only mourners, these two whom he had left friendless upon earth--the\nyoung boy and the old dog.\n\n\"Surely, he will relent now and let the poor lad come hither?\" thought\nthe miller's wife, glancing at her husband smoking by the hearth.\n\nBaas Cogez knew her thought","It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his\nbest: the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent,\nunquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel\namong the willows and the poplar-trees.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nThe winter was very sharp already. That night, after they reached the\nhut, snow fell; and fell for very many days","had been in its infancy, half a century\nor more earlier, when it had ground wheat for the soldiers of Napoleon;\nand it was now a ruddy brown, tanned by wind and weather. It went\nqueerly by fits and starts, as though rheumatic and stiff in the joints\nfrom age, but it served the whole neighborhood, which would have thought\nit almost as impious to carry grain elsewhere as to attend any other\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which","It was a busy road\nthat day, and hundreds of people, on foot and on mules, in wagons or in\ncarts, went by, tramping quickly and joyously on to Louvain. Some saw\nhim, most did not even look: all passed on. A dead dog more or less--it\nwas nothing in Brabant: it would be nothing anywhere in the world.\n\n\n\nAfter a time, among the holiday-makers, there came a little old man who\nwas bent and lame, and very feeble. He was in no guise for fe"],["s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","not?\" said the old man Daas that night\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\n\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\n\n\"And why not there?\" his grandfather pursued. \"Thou hast never missed a\nyear before, Nello.\"\n\n\"Thou art too sick to leave,\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured",",\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does\nscores of times. What is the cause, Nello?\" the old man persisted. \"Thou\nsurely hast not had ill words with the little one?\"\n\n\"Nay, grandfather--never,\" said the boy quickly, with a hot color in\nhis bent face. \"Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this\nyear. He has taken some whim against me.\"\n","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","ost\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\"\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\ncollar of gold, and place","lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\ncompanion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive,\nwas quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of\nPatrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to\nthe old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know:\nhe supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the\nportrait of Alois in the me","\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\n\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\npast","had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d","vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","heumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\nyear of age, and knowing the town well from having accompanied his\ngrandfather so many times, took his place beside the cart, and sold the\nmilk and received the coins in exchange, and brought them back to their\nrespective owners with a pretty grace and seriousness which charmed all\nwho beheld him.\n\nThe little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender\neyes, and a lovely bloom upon","sons, and in his death\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\n\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.",".\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\" For no one but Patrasche knew\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\n\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\ngoose baking for supper","s. Patrasche was very happy.\n\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\n\n\n\n\n\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\n","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","would befriend her favorite\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\nspinning-wheel; the cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst\nit all Patrasche was bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry\nthere a cherished guest. But neither peace nor plenty could allure him\nwhere Nello was not.\n\nWhen the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\n"],["Thou wert loitering here after dark,\" he said\nroughly. \"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the fire\nthan any one.\"\n\nNello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could\nsay such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could\npass a jest at such a time.\n\nNevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\never preferred against the lad,","was out in terror, and engines came tearing\nthrough the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose\nnothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that\nthe fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.\n\nNello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez\nthrust him angrily aside. \"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\" he said\nroughly. \"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of","the brutal thing openly to many of his\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\never preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had been\nseen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that he\nbore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little\nAlois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest\nlandowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches\nof Alois in some future","Nello and Patrasche\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings\nto which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's\nabsurd suspicion, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the\npeople were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of\nthe place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\n\n\"Thou art very cruel to","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung",". Nello, in his innocence and his\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\n\n\"Thou art very cruel to the lad,\" the miller's wife dared to say,\nweeping, to her lord. \"Sure he is an innocent lad and a faithful, and\nwould never dream of any such wickedness, however sore his heart might\nbe.\"\n\nBut Baas Cogez being an obstinate man, having once said a thing held\nto it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice\n","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","\nashamed and almost afraid. \"I have been cruel to the lad,\" he muttered\nat length: \"I deserved not to have good at his hands.\"\n\nLittle Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled\nagainst him her fair curly head. \"Nello may come here again, father?\"\nshe whispered. \"He may come to-morrow as he used to do?\"\n\nThe miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very\npale and his mouth trembled. \"Surely, surely,\" he answered","the only light and warmth there could\nbe found abode beside the village hearths and in the kindly greetings of\nneighbors. In the winter-time all drew nearer to each other, all to all,\nexcept to Nello and Patrasche, with whom none now would have anything\nto do, and who were left to fare as they might with the old paralyzed,\nbedridden man in the little cabin, whose fire was often low, and whose\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\nhad taken to drive his m","thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was","and sobbed piteously because\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \"It shall be different\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always","not?\" said the old man Daas that night\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\n\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\n\n\"And why not there?\" his grandfather pursued. \"Thou hast never missed a\nyear before, Nello.\"\n\n\"Thou art too sick to leave,\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with",",\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does\nscores of times. What is the cause, Nello?\" the old man persisted. \"Thou\nsurely hast not had ill words with the little one?\"\n\n\"Nay, grandfather--never,\" said the boy quickly, with a hot color in\nhis bent face. \"Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this\nyear. He has taken some whim against me.\"\n","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\ncompanion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive,\nwas quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of\nPatrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to\nthe old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know:\nhe supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the\nportrait of Alois in the me","and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\n\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\n","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","a\nmonth's rent over-due for their little home, and when Nello had paid the\nlast sad service to the dead he had not a coin left. He went and begged\ngrace of the owner of the hut, a cobbler who went every Sunday night\nto drink his pint of wine and smoke with Baas Cogez. The cobbler would\ngrant no mercy. He was a harsh, miserly man, and loved money. He claimed\nin default of his rent every stick and stone, every pot and pan, in the\nhut, and bade Nello and"],["vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\n\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis","\ndescending night behind him.\n\nIt was rude, of course, in a way, and had many faults, no doubt; and yet\nit was real, true in nature, true in art, and very mournful, and in a\nmanner beautiful.\n\nPatrasche had lain quiet countless hours watching its gradual creation\nafter the labor of each day was done, and he knew that Nello had a\nhope--vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich","opened; the eager,\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden dais..\n\nA mist obscured Nello's sight, his head swam, his limbs almost failed\nhim. When his vision cleared he saw the drawing raised on high: it was\nnot his own! A slow, sonorous voice was proclaiming aloud that victory\nhad been adjudged to Stephen Kiesslinger, born in the burgh of Antwerp,\nson of a wharfinger in that town.\n\n","first day of December, and the\ndecision be given on the twenty-fourth, so that he who should win might\nrejoice with all his people at the Christmas season.\n\nIn the twilight of a bitter wintry day, and with a beating heart, now\nquick with hope, now faint with fear, Nello placed the great picture\non his little green milk-cart, and took it, with the help of Patrasche,\ninto the town, and there left it, as enjoined, at the doors of a public\nbuilding.\n\n\"Perhaps it is worth","had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying","he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured.\n\nThe miller was silent: then he stretched his hand out with a franc in\nit. \"It is folly, as I say, and evil waste of time: nevertheless, it is\nlike Alois, and will please the house-mother. Take this silver bit for\nit and leave it for me.\"\n\nThe color died out of the face of the young Ardennois; he lifted\nhis head and put his hands behind","the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward\nindependence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly,\nand yet passionately adored.\n\nHe said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood,\nand little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and\nwhispered, \"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","most they could do.\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\n\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\n\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from",". Only to Patrasche he told all, and\nwhispered, \"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew.\"\n\nPatrasche thought so too, for he knew that Rubens had loved dogs or he\nhad never painted them with such exquisite fidelity; and men who loved\ndogs were, as Patrasche knew, always pitiful.\n\nThe drawings were to go in on the first day of December, and the\ndecision be given on the twenty-fourth, so that he who should win might\nrejoice with all","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","\nboy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a fallen tree at\neventide--that was all his theme. But there was greatness for the future\nin it. I would fain find him, and take him with me and teach him Art.\"\n\nAnd a little child with curling fair hair, sobbing bitterly as she clung\nto her father's arm, cried aloud, \"Oh, Nello, come! We have all ready\nfor thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old piper\nwill play for","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","By_ Maria L. Kirk\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\nNELLO, AWAKENED FROM HIS SLEEP, RAN TO HELP WITH THE REST\n\nTHEN LITTLE NELLO TOOK HIS PLACE BESIDE THE CART\n\nNELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A STICK OF CHARCOAL\n\nTHE PORTALS OF THE CATHEDRAL WERE UNCLOSED AFTER THE MIDNIGHT MASS\n\nA DOG OF FLANDERS\n\nA STORY OF","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\nhay, with the great tawny head of Patrasche on her lap, and many wreaths\nof poppies and blue corn-flowers round them both: on a clean smooth slab\nof pine wood the boy Nello drew their likeness with a stick of charcoal.\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child","ost\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\"\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\ncollar of gold, and place"],["s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung",", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\n\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\nPatrasche.\n\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\neffort, drew the sufferer","together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\n\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\n\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\" he murmured. \"We will not\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\"\n\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they",", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\npeople who dwelt there.\n\n\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\" he said, timidly. \"He is old, and he\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\"\n\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\nand","ost\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\"\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\ncollar of gold, and place","\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\n\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\npast","feeble from hunger and sorrow.\n\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\nthere stood a little Calvary","ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\n\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\nforever","other\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\n\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\non the edge","pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.\n\nThe dog would stop, as usual, at all the familiar gates, which were now\nclosed to him, and look up at them with wistful, mute appeal; and it\ncost the neighbors a pang to shut their doors and their hearts, and let\nPatrasche draw his cart on again, empty. Nevertheless, they did it, for\nthey desired to please Baas Cogez.\n\nNoël was close at hand.\n\nThe weather was very wild and cold. The","warmth and abundance\neverywhere, and the child would fain have made the dog a guest honored\nand feasted.\n\nBut Patrasche would neither lie in the warmth nor share in the cheer.\nFamished he was and very cold, but without Nello he would partake\nneither of comfort nor food. Against all temptation he was proof, and\nclose against the door he leaned always, watching only for a means of\nescape.\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the",".\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\" For no one but Patrasche knew\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\n\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\ngoose baking for supper","aloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung round his rugged\nneck with chains of marguerites, and kissed him with fresh and ruddy\nlips.\n\nSo then, when Patrasche arose, himself again, strong, big, gaunt,\npowerful, his great wistful eyes had a gentle astonishment in them that\nthere were no curses to rouse him and no blows to drive him; and\nhis heart awakened to a mighty","young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \"It is too late.\"\n\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\n\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\nhad taken the","old, and he\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\"\n\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\nand rye being very dear that season. The boy and the dog went on again\nwearily: they asked no more.\n\nBy slow and painful ways they reached Antwerp as the chimes tolled ten.\n\n\"If I had anything about me I could sell to get him bread!\" thought\nNello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood","when the grave was closed\nand the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's\nhands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound\nwhere the snow was displaced.\n\nNello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts. But even of that poor,\nmelancholy, cheerless home they were denied the consolation. There was a\nmonth's rent over-due for their little home, and when Nello had paid the\nlast sad service to the dead he had not a","alpha and omega; their treasury and granary;\ntheir store of gold and wand of wealth; their bread-winner and minister;\ntheir only friend and comforter. Patrasche dead or gone from them, they\nmust have laid themselves down and died likewise. Patrasche was body,\nbrains, hands, head, and feet to both of them: Patrasche was their very\nlife, their very soul. For Jehan Daas was old and a cripple, and Nello\nwas but a child; and Patrasche was their dog.\n\n\n","they would all go in together to their meal of\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\nthe burgh of Rubens it","s. Patrasche was very happy.\n\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\n\n\n\n\n\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\n","HEDRAL WERE UNCLOSED AFTER THE MIDNIGHT MASS\n\nA DOG OF FLANDERS\n\nA STORY OF NÃEL\n\n\n\n\nNello and Patrasche were left all alone in the world.\n\nThey were friends in a friendship closer than brotherhood. Nello was\na little Ardennois--Patrasche was a big Fleming. They were both of the\nsame age by length of years, yet one was still young, and the other was\nalready old. They had dwelt together almost all their days: both"],["He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\n\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\n","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured",", he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\ntambourine-player into her hands. \"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\nAlois. Take it,\" he whispered--\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\"\n\nHe slid","and sobbed piteously because\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \"It shall be different\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always","of snow\nupon the dark stone floor. By that slender white thread, frozen as it\nfell, he was guided through the intense silence, through the immensity\nof the vaulted space--guided straight to the gates of the chancel, and,\nstretched there upon the stones, he found Nello. He crept up and touched\nthe face of the boy. \"Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and\nforsake thee? I--a dog?\" said that mute caress.\n\nThe lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying",", and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\n\n[Illustration: child] [Illustration: NELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A\nSTICK OF CHARCOAL] [Illustration: couple walking]\n\nOne day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on\na pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\nh","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his\nbest: the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent,\nunquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel\namong the willows and the poplar-trees.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nThe winter was very sharp already. That night, after they reached the\nhut, snow fell; and fell for very many days","vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","most they could do.\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\n\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\n\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from","wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always, dear little Alois, only\nlove me always, and I will be great.\"\n\n\"And if I do not love you?\" the pretty child asked, pouting a little\nthrough her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex.\n\nNello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was","upon the two pictures above, from which the boy on his\nentrance had flung back the veil: the Elevation and the Descent of the\nCross were for one instant visible.\n\nNello rose to his feet and stretched his arms to them; the tears of a\npassionate ecstasy glistened on the paleness of his face. \"I have seen\nthem at last!\" he cried aloud. \"O God, it is enough!\"\n\nHis limbs failed under him, and he sank upon his knees, still gazing\nupward at the majesty that","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would"],["wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","\nboy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a fallen tree at\neventide--that was all his theme. But there was greatness for the future\nin it. I would fain find him, and take him with me and teach him Art.\"\n\nAnd a little child with curling fair hair, sobbing bitterly as she clung\nto her father's arm, cried aloud, \"Oh, Nello, come! We have all ready\nfor thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old piper\nwill play for","sports or\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\nevery change of mood.\n\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\naccepted he himself should be denied.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nBut he did not complain: it was his","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n",", he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\ntambourine-player into her hands. \"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\nAlois. Take it,\" he whispered--\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\"\n\nHe slid","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","ost\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\"\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\ncollar of gold, and place","ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\n\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis","the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying","thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was","had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d","most they could do.\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\n\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\n\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from","and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\n\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\n","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would","sons, and in his death\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\n\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion."],["age by length of years, yet one was still young, and the other was\nalready old. They had dwelt together almost all their days: both were\norphaned and destitute, and owed their lives to the same hand. It\nhad been the beginning of the tie between them, their first bond of\nsympathy; and it had strengthened day by day, and had grown with\ntheir growth, firm and indissoluble, until they loved one another very\ngreatly. Their home was a little hut on the edge of a little village--a\nFlemish village","very poor man--of old Jehan\nDaas, who in his time had been a soldier, and who remembered the wars\nthat had trampled the country as oxen tread down the furrows, and who\nhad brought from his service nothing except a wound, which had made him\na cripple.\n\nWhen old Jehan Daas had reached his full eighty, his daughter had\ndied in the Ardennes, hard by Stavelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\nforever old Jehan Daas, who had never known life aught save its poverty\nand its pains. He had long been half dead, incapable of any movement\nexcept a feeble gesture, and powerless for anything beyond a gentle\nword; and yet his loss fell on them both with a great horror in it: they\nmourned him passionately. He had passed away from them in his sleep,\nand when in the gray dawn they learned their","\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw him draw with chalk upon\nthe stones any and every thing that grew or breathed, heard him on his\nlittle bed of hay murmur all manner of timid, pathetic prayers to the\nspirit of the great Master; watched his gaze darken and his face radiate\nat the evening glow of sunset or the rosy rising of the dawn; and felt\nmany and many a time the tears of a strange, nameless pain and joy","a certain vague, sweet hope, such as\nbeguiles the children of genius, had whispered in his heart, \"Yet the\npoor do choose sometimes--choose to be great, so that men cannot say\nthem nay.\" And he thought so still in his innocence; and one day, when\nthe little Alois, finding him by chance alone among the cornfields by\nthe canal, ran to him and held him close, and sobbed piteously because\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\nlife her parents","left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was a\nsmile on his face so sweet and yet so sad that little Alois was awed by\nit. \"I will be great still,\" he said under his breath--\"great still, or\ndie, Alois.\"\n\n\"You do not love me,\" said the little spoilt child, pushing him away;\nbut the boy shook his head and smiled, and went on his way through the\ntall yellow corn, seeing as","whilst his gift was\naccepted he himself should be denied.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nBut he did not complain: it was his habit to be quiet: old Jehan Daas\nhad said ever to him, \"We are poor: we must take what God sends--the ill\nwith the good: the poor cannot choose.\"\n\nTo which the boy had always listened in silence, being reverent of his\nold grandfather; but nevertheless a certain vague, sweet hope, such as\nbeguiles the children of genius, had whispered in his heart, \"Yet the\npoor do","edly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood in a small plot of garden-ground that yielded\nbeans and herbs and pumpkins. They were very poor, terribly poor--many a\nday they had nothing at all to eat. They never by any chance had enough:\nto have had enough to eat would have been to have reached paradise at\nonce. But the old man was very gentle and good to the boy, and the boy\nwas a beautiful, innocent, truthful, tender-","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","worse than a beggar. Have a care that they\nare not together in the future, or I will send the child to the surer\nkeeping of the nuns of the Sacred Heart.\"\n\nThe poor mother was terrified, and promised humbly to do his will. Not\nthat she could bring herself altogether to separate the child from\nher favorite playmate, nor did the miller even desire that extreme of\ncruelty to a young lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\ncompanion;","oly clock almost from their birth\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\non the edge of the village, with the cathedral spire of Antwerp rising\nin the north-east, beyond the great green plain of seeding grass and\nspreading corn that stretched away from them like a tideless, changeless\nsea. It was the hut of a very old man, of a very poor man--of old Jehan\nDaas, who in his time had been a soldier, and who remembered the wars\nthat had trampled the","sons, and in his death\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\n\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.","\ndays over the sharp-set stones of the various cities and the long,\nshadowless, weary roads of the two Flanders and of Brabant. He had been\nborn to no other heritage than those of pain and of toil. He had been\nfed on curses and baptized with blows. Why not? It was a Christian\ncountry, and Patrasche was but a dog. Before he was fully grown he had\nknown the bitter gall of the cart and the collar. Before he had entered\nhis thirteenth month he had become the property of a hardware-dealer,","s. Patrasche was very happy.\n\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\n\n\n\n\n\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\n",", and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\n\n[Illustration: child] [Illustration: NELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A\nSTICK OF CHARCOAL] [Illustration: couple walking]\n\nOne day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on\na pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\nh","orsake thee? I--a dog?\" said that mute caress.\n\nThe lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close. \"Let us lie\ndown and die together,\" he murmured. \"Men have no need of us, and we are\nall alone.\"\n\nIn answer, Patrasche crept closer yet, and laid his head upon the young\nboy's breast. The great tears stood in his brown, sad eyes: not for\nhimself--for himself he was happy.\n\nThey lay close together in the piercing cold. The blasts that blew over","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was","HEDRAL WERE UNCLOSED AFTER THE MIDNIGHT MASS\n\nA DOG OF FLANDERS\n\nA STORY OF NÃEL\n\n\n\n\nNello and Patrasche were left all alone in the world.\n\nThey were friends in a friendship closer than brotherhood. Nello was\na little Ardennois--Patrasche was a big Fleming. They were both of the\nsame age by length of years, yet one was still young, and the other was\nalready old. They had dwelt together almost all their days: both"],["s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \"It is too late.\"\n\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\n\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\nhad taken the","s. Patrasche was very happy.\n\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\n\n\n\n\n\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\n",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","sons, and in his death\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\n\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.","when the grave was closed\nand the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's\nhands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound\nwhere the snow was displaced.\n\nNello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts. But even of that poor,\nmelancholy, cheerless home they were denied the consolation. There was a\nmonth's rent over-due for their little home, and when Nello had paid the\nlast sad service to the dead he had not a","would befriend her favorite\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\nspinning-wheel; the cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst\nit all Patrasche was bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry\nthere a cherished guest. But neither peace nor plenty could allure him\nwhere Nello was not.\n\nWhen the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\n",", he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\ntambourine-player into her hands. \"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\nAlois. Take it,\" he whispered--\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\"\n\nHe slid",". He thrust it in his\nshirt, and stroked Patrasche and drew him onward. The dog looked up\nwistfully in his face.\n\nNello made straight for the mill-house, and went to the house-door and\nstruck on its panels. The miller's wife opened it weeping, with little\nAlois clinging close to her skirts. \"Is it thee, thou poor lad?\" she\nsaid kindly through her tears. \"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\nWe are in sore trouble to-night.","ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\n\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\nforever","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\n\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis","\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\n\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\npast","sports or\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\nevery change of mood.\n\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\naccepted he himself should be denied.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nBut he did not complain: it was his","had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d","the only light and warmth there could\nbe found abode beside the village hearths and in the kindly greetings of\nneighbors. In the winter-time all drew nearer to each other, all to all,\nexcept to Nello and Patrasche, with whom none now would have anything\nto do, and who were left to fare as they might with the old paralyzed,\nbedridden man in the little cabin, whose fire was often low, and whose\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\nhad taken to drive his m",", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\npeople who dwelt there.\n\n\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\" he said, timidly. \"He is old, and he\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\"\n\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\nand"],[", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\n\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\nPatrasche.\n\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\neffort, drew the sufferer","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","ost\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\"\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\ncollar of gold, and place","\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\n\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\npast","ried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all\nwould he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the\nstones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch\nhimself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain,\nuntil the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and\nwinding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on","follow Nello. A human friend might have paused\nfor the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that\nwas not the friendship of Patrasche. He remembered a bygone time, when\nan old man and a little child had found him sick unto death in the\nwayside ditch.\n\nSnow had fallen freshly all the evening long; it was now nearly ten; the\ntrail of the boy's footsteps was almost obliterated. It took Patrasche\nlong to discover any scent. When at last he found it, it","\nsaid kindly through her tears. \"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\nWe are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money\nthat he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will\nfind it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own\njudgment for the things we have done to thee.\"\n\nNello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the\nhouse. \"Patrasche found the money to-night,\" he",".\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\" For no one but Patrasche knew\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\n\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\ngoose baking for supper","together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\n\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\n\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\" he murmured. \"We will not\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\"\n\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they","feeble from hunger and sorrow.\n\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\nthere stood a little Calvary","ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\n\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis","on the board, and the voices were loudest\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\nPatrasche, watching always an occasion, glided out when the door was\nunlatched by a careless new-comer, and as swiftly as his weak and tired\nlimbs would bear him sped over the snow in the bitter, black night. He\nhad only one thought--to follow Nello. A human friend might have paused\nfor the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that\nwas","warmth and abundance\neverywhere, and the child would fain have made the dog a guest honored\nand feasted.\n\nBut Patrasche would neither lie in the warmth nor share in the cheer.\nFamished he was and very cold, but without Nello he would partake\nneither of comfort nor food. Against all temptation he was proof, and\nclose against the door he leaned always, watching only for a means of\nescape.\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the","other\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\n\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\non the edge","sports or\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\nevery change of mood.\n\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\naccepted he himself should be denied.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nBut he did not complain: it was his","s. Patrasche was very happy.\n\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\n\n\n\n\n\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\n","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","teeth a small case of\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\nthere stood a little Calvary, and a lamp burned dully under the cross:\nthe boy mechanically turned the case to the light: on it was the name of\nBaas Cogez, and within it were notes for two thousand francs.\n\nThe sight roused the lad a little from his stupor. He thrust it in his\nshirt, and stroked Patrasche and drew him onward. The dog looked up\nwistfully in his face","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw",", whose fire was often low, and whose\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\nhad taken to drive his mule in of a day for the milk of the various\ndairies, and there were only three or four of the people who had refused\nhis terms of purchase and remained faithful to the little green cart.\nSo that the burden which Patrasche drew had become very light, and the\ncentime-pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.\n\nThe dog would stop, as usual, at all the"],[", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\n\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\nPatrasche.\n\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\neffort, drew the sufferer","and trod onward\nwith steady patience.\n\n\"Rest thee at home, Patrasche--it is time thou didst rest--and I can\nquite well push in the cart by myself,\" urged Nello many a morning; but\nPatrasche, who understood him aright, would no more have consented\nto stay at home than a veteran soldier to shirk when the charge was\nsounding; and every day he would rise and place himself in his shafts,\nand plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round feet\nhad left their print upon so many","together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\n\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\n\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\" he murmured. \"We will not\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\"\n\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they","carry it through the darkness to the silent\ntown. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years,\nthat were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old\nage, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would\nnever give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him\nand drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he\nwould ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the\ntruck as it lumbered along through the ice-","his belled harness that\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\nwhich had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave,\ninnocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.\n\nNello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that\nJehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no\nneed to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream","Nello and Patrasche\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings\nto which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's\nabsurd suspicion, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the\npeople were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of\nthe place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\n\n\"Thou art very cruel to","other\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\n\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\non the edge","they would all go in together to their meal of\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\nthe burgh of Rubens it","need to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream and pray\na little, and then awake again as the clock tolled three and watch for\ntheir return. And on their return Patrasche would shake himself free of\nhis harness with a bay of glee, and Nello would recount with pride the\ndoings of the day; and they would all go in together to their meal of\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\ngreat",", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\npeople who dwelt there.\n\n\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\" he said, timidly. \"He is old, and he\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\"\n\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\nand","ried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all\nwould he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the\nstones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch\nhimself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain,\nuntil the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and\nwinding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on","\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\n\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\npast","s. Patrasche was very happy.\n\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\n\n\n\n\n\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\n","warmth and abundance\neverywhere, and the child would fain have made the dog a guest honored\nand feasted.\n\nBut Patrasche would neither lie in the warmth nor share in the cheer.\nFamished he was and very cold, but without Nello he would partake\nneither of comfort nor food. Against all temptation he was proof, and\nclose against the door he leaned always, watching only for a means of\nescape.\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the","at home themselves to look after\ntheir gardens, their cows, their poultry, or their little fields. But it\nwas becoming hard work for the old man. He was eighty-three, and Antwerp\nwas a good league off, or more.\n\nPatrasche watched the milk-cans come and go that one day when he had got\nwell and was lying in the sun with the wreath of marguerites round his\ntawny neck.\n\nThe next morning, Patrasche, before the old man had touched the cart,\narose and walked to",".\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\" For no one but Patrasche knew\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\n\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\ngoose baking for supper","follow Nello. A human friend might have paused\nfor the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that\nwas not the friendship of Patrasche. He remembered a bygone time, when\nan old man and a little child had found him sick unto death in the\nwayside ditch.\n\nSnow had fallen freshly all the evening long; it was now nearly ten; the\ntrail of the boy's footsteps was almost obliterated. It took Patrasche\nlong to discover any scent. When at last he found it, it","his\ntawny neck.\n\nThe next morning, Patrasche, before the old man had touched the cart,\narose and walked to it and placed himself betwixt its handles, and\ntestified as plainly as dumb show could do his desire and his ability\nto work in return for the bread of charity that he had eaten. Jehan Daas\nresisted long, for the old man was one of those who thought it a foul\nshame to bind dogs to labor for which Nature never formed them. But\nPatrasche would not be gainsaid: finding they did not harness",", whose fire was often low, and whose\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\nhad taken to drive his mule in of a day for the milk of the various\ndairies, and there were only three or four of the people who had refused\nhis terms of purchase and remained faithful to the little green cart.\nSo that the burden which Patrasche drew had become very light, and the\ncentime-pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.\n\nThe dog would stop, as usual, at all the","Jehan Daas was old and a cripple, and Nello\nwas but a child; and Patrasche was their dog.\n\n\n\nA dog of Flanders--yellow of hide, large of head and limb, with\nwolf-like ears that stood erect, and legs bowed and feet widened in the\nmuscular development wrought in his breed by many generations of hard\nservice. Patrasche came of a race which had toiled hard and cruelly from\nsire to son in Flanders many a century--slaves of slaves, dogs of the"],["He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\n\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\n","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured",", he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\ntambourine-player into her hands. \"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\nAlois. Take it,\" he whispered--\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\"\n\nHe slid","and sobbed piteously because\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \"It shall be different\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always","of snow\nupon the dark stone floor. By that slender white thread, frozen as it\nfell, he was guided through the intense silence, through the immensity\nof the vaulted space--guided straight to the gates of the chancel, and,\nstretched there upon the stones, he found Nello. He crept up and touched\nthe face of the boy. \"Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and\nforsake thee? I--a dog?\" said that mute caress.\n\nThe lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying",", and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\n\n[Illustration: child] [Illustration: NELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A\nSTICK OF CHARCOAL] [Illustration: couple walking]\n\nOne day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on\na pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\nh","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his\nbest: the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent,\nunquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel\namong the willows and the poplar-trees.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nThe winter was very sharp already. That night, after they reached the\nhut, snow fell; and fell for very many days","vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","most they could do.\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\n\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\n\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from","wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always, dear little Alois, only\nlove me always, and I will be great.\"\n\n\"And if I do not love you?\" the pretty child asked, pouting a little\nthrough her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex.\n\nNello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was","upon the two pictures above, from which the boy on his\nentrance had flung back the veil: the Elevation and the Descent of the\nCross were for one instant visible.\n\nNello rose to his feet and stretched his arms to them; the tears of a\npassionate ecstasy glistened on the paleness of his face. \"I have seen\nthem at last!\" he cried aloud. \"O God, it is enough!\"\n\nHis limbs failed under him, and he sank upon his knees, still gazing\nupward at the majesty that","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would"],["wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","\nboy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a fallen tree at\neventide--that was all his theme. But there was greatness for the future\nin it. I would fain find him, and take him with me and teach him Art.\"\n\nAnd a little child with curling fair hair, sobbing bitterly as she clung\nto her father's arm, cried aloud, \"Oh, Nello, come! We have all ready\nfor thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old piper\nwill play for","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","sports or\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\nevery change of mood.\n\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\naccepted he himself should be denied.\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\nBut he did not complain: it was his","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood","the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would","ost\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\"\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\ncollar of gold, and place","most they could do.\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\n\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\n\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from","heumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\nyear of age, and knowing the town well from having accompanied his\ngrandfather so many times, took his place beside the cart, and sold the\nmilk and received the coins in exchange, and brought them back to their\nrespective owners with a pretty grace and seriousness which charmed all\nwho beheld him.\n\nThe little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender\neyes, and a lovely bloom upon",", he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\ntambourine-player into her hands. \"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\nAlois. Take it,\" he whispered--\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\"\n\nHe slid","ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\n\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\nhis","thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was","sons, and in his death\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\n\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.","and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\n\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\n"],["Thou wert loitering here after dark,\" he said\nroughly. \"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the fire\nthan any one.\"\n\nNello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could\nsay such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could\npass a jest at such a time.\n\nNevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\never preferred against the lad,","was out in terror, and engines came tearing\nthrough the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose\nnothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that\nthe fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.\n\nNello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez\nthrust him angrily aside. \"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\" he said\nroughly. \"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of","Nello and Patrasche\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings\nto which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's\nabsurd suspicion, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the\npeople were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of\nthe place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\n\n\"Thou art very cruel to",".\n\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \"Dost do much of such\nfolly?\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\n\nNello colored and hung his head. \"I draw everything I see,\" he murmured","the brutal thing openly to many of his\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\never preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had been\nseen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that he\nbore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little\nAlois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest\nlandowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches\nof Alois in some future","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung",". Nello, in his innocence and his\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\n\n\"Thou art very cruel to the lad,\" the miller's wife dared to say,\nweeping, to her lord. \"Sure he is an innocent lad and a faithful, and\nwould never dream of any such wickedness, however sore his heart might\nbe.\"\n\nBut Baas Cogez being an obstinate man, having once said a thing held\nto it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice\n","wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\n\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw","\nashamed and almost afraid. \"I have been cruel to the lad,\" he muttered\nat length: \"I deserved not to have good at his hands.\"\n\nLittle Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled\nagainst him her fair curly head. \"Nello may come here again, father?\"\nshe whispered. \"He may come to-morrow as he used to do?\"\n\nThe miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very\npale and his mouth trembled. \"Surely, surely,\" he answered","the only light and warmth there could\nbe found abode beside the village hearths and in the kindly greetings of\nneighbors. In the winter-time all drew nearer to each other, all to all,\nexcept to Nello and Patrasche, with whom none now would have anything\nto do, and who were left to fare as they might with the old paralyzed,\nbedridden man in the little cabin, whose fire was often low, and whose\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\nhad taken to drive his m","and sobbed piteously because\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \"It shall be different\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always","not?\" said the old man Daas that night\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\n\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\n\n\"And why not there?\" his grandfather pursued. \"Thou hast never missed a\nyear before, Nello.\"\n\n\"Thou art too sick to leave,\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with","of snow\nupon the dark stone floor. By that slender white thread, frozen as it\nfell, he was guided through the intense silence, through the immensity\nof the vaulted space--guided straight to the gates of the chancel, and,\nstretched there upon the stones, he found Nello. He crept up and touched\nthe face of the boy. \"Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and\nforsake thee? I--a dog?\" said that mute caress.\n\nThe lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close",",\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does\nscores of times. What is the cause, Nello?\" the old man persisted. \"Thou\nsurely hast not had ill words with the little one?\"\n\n\"Nay, grandfather--never,\" said the boy quickly, with a hot color in\nhis bent face. \"Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this\nyear. He has taken some whim against me.\"\n","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would","the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\ngolden hair lying","barely knew his letters, could do\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\nseemed to him to murmur, \"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\"\n\nNello ran home through the","thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was","lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\ncompanion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive,\nwas quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of\nPatrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to\nthe old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know:\nhe supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the\nportrait of Alois in the me"],["young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \"It is too late.\"\n\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\n\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\nhad taken the","\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\n\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\npast",", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\n\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\nPatrasche.\n\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\neffort, drew the sufferer","s. Patrasche was very happy.\n\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\n\n\n\n\n\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\n","together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\n\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\n\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\" he murmured. \"We will not\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\"\n\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they","they would all go in together to their meal of\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\nthe burgh of Rubens it","other\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\n\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\non the edge","ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\n\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\nforever","when the grave was closed\nand the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's\nhands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound\nwhere the snow was displaced.\n\nNello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts. But even of that poor,\nmelancholy, cheerless home they were denied the consolation. There was a\nmonth's rent over-due for their little home, and when Nello had paid the\nlast sad service to the dead he had not a","feeble from hunger and sorrow.\n\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\nthere stood a little Calvary",", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\npeople who dwelt there.\n\n\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\" he said, timidly. \"He is old, and he\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\"\n\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\nand","\nsaid kindly through her tears. \"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\nWe are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money\nthat he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will\nfind it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own\njudgment for the things we have done to thee.\"\n\nNello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the\nhouse. \"Patrasche found the money to-night,\" he","ried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all\nwould he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the\nstones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch\nhimself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain,\nuntil the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and\nwinding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on",".\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\" For no one but Patrasche knew\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\n\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\ngoose baking for supper","oly clock almost from their birth\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\non the edge of the village, with the cathedral spire of Antwerp rising\nin the north-east, beyond the great green plain of seeding grass and\nspreading corn that stretched away from them like a tideless, changeless\nsea. It was the hut of a very old man, of a very poor man--of old Jehan\nDaas, who in his time had been a soldier, and who remembered the wars\nthat had trampled the","carry it through the darkness to the silent\ntown. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years,\nthat were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old\nage, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would\nnever give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him\nand drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he\nwould ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the\ntruck as it lumbered along through the ice-","and place himself in his shafts,\nand plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round feet\nhad left their print upon so many, many years.\n\n\"One must never rest till one dies,\" thought Patrasche; and sometimes it\nseemed to him that that time of rest for him was not very far off. His\nsight was less clear than it had been, and it gave him pain to rise\nafter the night's sleep, though he would never lie a moment in his straw\nwhen once the bell of the chapel tolling five let him know that the\n","clamations to his home upon the quay.\n\nThe boy staggered to his feet and drew the dog into his embrace. \"It is\nall over, dear Patrasche,\" he murmured--\"all over!\"\n\nHe rallied himself as best he could, for he was weak from fasting, and\nretraced his steps to the village. Patrasche paced by his side with his\nhead drooping and his old limbs feeble from hunger and sorrow.\n\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\nwas bitter as death on","udged to Stephen Kiesslinger, born in the burgh of Antwerp,\nson of a wharfinger in that town.\n\nWhen Nello recovered his consciousness he was lying on the stones\nwithout, and Patrasche was trying with every art he knew to call him\nback to life. In the distance a throng of the youths of Antwerp were\nshouting around their successful comrade, and escorting him with\nacclamations to his home upon the quay.\n\nThe boy staggered to his feet and drew the dog into his embrace. \"It is\nall","at home themselves to look after\ntheir gardens, their cows, their poultry, or their little fields. But it\nwas becoming hard work for the old man. He was eighty-three, and Antwerp\nwas a good league off, or more.\n\nPatrasche watched the milk-cans come and go that one day when he had got\nwell and was lying in the sun with the wreath of marguerites round his\ntawny neck.\n\nThe next morning, Patrasche, before the old man had touched the cart,\narose and walked to"],["ried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all\nwould he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the\nstones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch\nhimself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain,\nuntil the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and\nwinding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on","other\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\n\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\non the edge","master into trouble, he\ndesisted, and remained couched patiently before the churches until such\ntime as the boy reappeared. It was not the fact of his going into them\nwhich disturbed Patrasche: he knew that people went to church: all\nthe village went to the small, tumbledown, gray pile opposite the red\nwindmill.\n\nWhat troubled him was that little Nello always looked strangely when\nhe came out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay","ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\n\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\nforever","together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\n\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\n\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\" he murmured. \"We will not\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\"\n\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they","they would all go in together to their meal of\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\nthe burgh of Rubens it","need to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream and pray\na little, and then awake again as the clock tolled three and watch for\ntheir return. And on their return Patrasche would shake himself free of\nhis harness with a bay of glee, and Nello would recount with pride the\ndoings of the day; and they would all go in together to their meal of\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\ngreat",", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\n\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\nPatrasche.\n\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\neffort, drew the sufferer",", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\npeople who dwelt there.\n\n\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\" he said, timidly. \"He is old, and he\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\"\n\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\nand","\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\n\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\npast","eyes.\n\nOne day, when the custodian was out of the way and the doors left ajar,\nhe got in for a moment after his little friend and saw. \"They\" were two\ngreat covered pictures on either side of the choir.\n\nNello was kneeling, rapt as in an ecstasy, before the altar-picture of\nthe Assumption, and when he noticed Patrasche, and rose and drew the dog\ngently out into the air, his face was wet with tears, and he looked up\nat the veiled places as he passed","out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\nvery subdued and almost sad.\n\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would","young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \"It is too late.\"\n\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\n\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\nhad taken the",".\n\n\"He wants the lad,\" said Baas Cogez. \"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\" For no one but Patrasche knew\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\n\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\ngoose baking for supper",". He kept\non his way, a poor gaunt, shivering thing, and by long patience traced\nthe steps he loved into the very heart of the burgh and up to the steps\nof the great cathedral.\n\n\"He is gone to the things that he loved,\" thought Patrasche: he\ncould not understand, but he was full of sorrow and of pity for the\nart-passion that to him was so incomprehensible and yet so sacred.\n\nThe portals of the cathedral were unclosed after the midnight mass. Some\nheedlessness in the","his belled harness that\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\nwhich had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave,\ninnocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.\n\nNello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that\nJehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no\nneed to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream","and trod onward\nwith steady patience.\n\n\"Rest thee at home, Patrasche--it is time thou didst rest--and I can\nquite well push in the cart by myself,\" urged Nello many a morning; but\nPatrasche, who understood him aright, would no more have consented\nto stay at home than a veteran soldier to shirk when the charge was\nsounding; and every day he would rise and place himself in his shafts,\nand plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round feet\nhad left their print upon so many","feeble from hunger and sorrow.\n\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\nthere stood a little Calvary","carry it through the darkness to the silent\ntown. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years,\nthat were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old\nage, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would\nnever give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him\nand drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he\nwould ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the\ntruck as it lumbered along through the ice-","\nsaid kindly through her tears. \"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\nWe are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money\nthat he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will\nfind it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own\njudgment for the things we have done to thee.\"\n\nNello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the\nhouse. \"Patrasche found the money to-night,\" he"],["and sobbed piteously because\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \"It shall be different\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always","wood that your father\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\nthe door against me then. Only love me always, dear little Alois, only\nlove me always, and I will be great.\"\n\n\"And if I do not love you?\" the pretty child asked, pouting a little\nthrough her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex.\n\nNello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was","and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\n\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\n",", he thought, if he gave her his\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\ntambourine-player into her hands. \"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\nAlois. Take it,\" he whispered--\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\"\n\nHe slid","lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\ncompanion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive,\nwas quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of\nPatrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to\nthe old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know:\nhe supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the\nportrait of Alois in the me","\nashamed and almost afraid. \"I have been cruel to the lad,\" he muttered\nat length: \"I deserved not to have good at his hands.\"\n\nLittle Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled\nagainst him her fair curly head. \"Nello may come here again, father?\"\nshe whispered. \"He may come to-morrow as he used to do?\"\n\nThe miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very\npale and his mouth trembled. \"Surely, surely,\" he answered","would befriend her favorite\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\nspinning-wheel; the cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst\nit all Patrasche was bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry\nthere a cherished guest. But neither peace nor plenty could allure him\nwhere Nello was not.\n\nWhen the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\n","avelot, and had left him in legacy her\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\n\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\nas a sea-shell, and stood",",\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\nhead over the bed.\n\n\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does\nscores of times. What is the cause, Nello?\" the old man persisted. \"Thou\nsurely hast not had ill words with the little one?\"\n\n\"Nay, grandfather--never,\" said the boy quickly, with a hot color in\nhis bent face. \"Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this\nyear. He has taken some whim against me.\"\n","the brutal thing openly to many of his\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\never preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had been\nseen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that he\nbore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little\nAlois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest\nlandowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches\nof Alois in some future","He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\nthe world were like.\n\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\n\"Thou art very poor, my child,\" he said with a quiver the more in his\naged, trembling voice--\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperish","called a Madonna, on the walls of the\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\n\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\n","left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was a\nsmile on his face so sweet and yet so sad that little Alois was awed by\nit. \"I will be great still,\" he said under his breath--\"great still, or\ndie, Alois.\"\n\n\"You do not love me,\" said the little spoilt child, pushing him away;\nbut the boy shook his head and smiled, and went on his way through the\ntall yellow corn, seeing as","a certain vague, sweet hope, such as\nbeguiles the children of genius, had whispered in his heart, \"Yet the\npoor do choose sometimes--choose to be great, so that men cannot say\nthem nay.\" And he thought so still in his innocence; and one day, when\nthe little Alois, finding him by chance alone among the cornfields by\nthe canal, ran to him and held him close, and sobbed piteously because\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\nlife her parents","sayings of its richest\nlandowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches\nof Alois in some future time for their sons, took the hint to give grave\nlooks and cold words to old Jehan Daas's grandson. No one said anything\nto him openly, but all the village agreed together to humor the miller's\nprejudice, and at the cottages and farms where Nello and Patrasche\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and","on the board, and the voices were loudest\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\nPatrasche, watching always an occasion, glided out when the door was\nunlatched by a careless new-comer, and as swiftly as his weak and tired\nlimbs would bear him sped over the snow in the bitter, black night. He\nhad only one thought--to follow Nello. A human friend might have paused\nfor the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that\nwas","the victor according\nto his merits.\n\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\ntreasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward\nindependence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly,\nand yet passionately adored.\n\nHe said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood,\nand little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and\nwhispered, \"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew","thee.\"\n\n\"Nay, I am rich,\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was",". Nello, in his innocence and his\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\n\n\"Thou art very cruel to the lad,\" the miller's wife dared to say,\nweeping, to her lord. \"Sure he is an innocent lad and a faithful, and\nwould never dream of any such wickedness, however sore his heart might\nbe.\"\n\nBut Baas Cogez being an obstinate man, having once said a thing held\nto it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice\n","s hand.\n\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"s. Patrasche was very happy.\\n\\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\n\",\n \"had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d\",\n \"young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \\\"It is too late.\\\"\\n\\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\\n\\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\\nhad taken the\",\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"heumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\nyear of age, and knowing the town well from having accompanied his\\ngrandfather so many times, took his place beside the cart, and sold the\\nmilk and received the coins in exchange, and brought them back to their\\nrespective owners with a pretty grace and seriousness which charmed all\\nwho beheld him.\\n\\nThe little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender\\neyes, and a lovely bloom upon\",\n \"sons, and in his death\\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\\n\\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.\",\n \"most they could do.\\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\\n\\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\\n\\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\",\n \"sports or\\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\\nevery change of mood.\\n\\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\\naccepted he himself should be denied.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nBut he did not complain: it was his\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\",\n \"ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\\n\\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis\",\n \"and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\\n\\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\n\",\n \"thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was\",\n \"the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"not?\\\" said the old man Daas that night\\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\\n\\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\\n\\n\\\"And why not there?\\\" his grandfather pursued. \\\"Thou hast never missed a\\nyear before, Nello.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thou art too sick to leave,\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with\"\n ],\n [\n \", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\\n\\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\\nPatrasche.\\n\\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\\neffort, drew the sufferer\",\n \"Jehan Daas was old and a cripple, and Nello\\nwas but a child; and Patrasche was their dog.\\n\\n\\n\\nA dog of Flanders--yellow of hide, large of head and limb, with\\nwolf-like ears that stood erect, and legs bowed and feet widened in the\\nmuscular development wrought in his breed by many generations of hard\\nservice. Patrasche came of a race which had toiled hard and cruelly from\\nsire to son in Flanders many a century--slaves of slaves, dogs of the\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"s. Patrasche was very happy.\\n\\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\n\",\n \"alpha and omega; their treasury and granary;\\ntheir store of gold and wand of wealth; their bread-winner and minister;\\ntheir only friend and comforter. Patrasche dead or gone from them, they\\nmust have laid themselves down and died likewise. Patrasche was body,\\nbrains, hands, head, and feet to both of them: Patrasche was their very\\nlife, their very soul. For Jehan Daas was old and a cripple, and Nello\\nwas but a child; and Patrasche was their dog.\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"feeble from hunger and sorrow.\\n\\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\\nthere stood a little Calvary\",\n \"together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\\n\\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\\n\\\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\\\" he murmured. \\\"We will not\\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\\\"\\n\\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they\",\n \"ost\\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\\\"\\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\\ncollar of gold, and place\",\n \"aloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung round his rugged\\nneck with chains of marguerites, and kissed him with fresh and ruddy\\nlips.\\n\\nSo then, when Patrasche arose, himself again, strong, big, gaunt,\\npowerful, his great wistful eyes had a gentle astonishment in them that\\nthere were no curses to rouse him and no blows to drive him; and\\nhis heart awakened to a mighty\",\n \"\\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\\n\\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\\npast\",\n \"ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\\nforever\",\n \"\\nsaid kindly through her tears. \\\"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\\nWe are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money\\nthat he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will\\nfind it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own\\njudgment for the things we have done to thee.\\\"\\n\\nNello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the\\nhouse. \\\"Patrasche found the money to-night,\\\" he\",\n \"other\\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\\n\\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\\non the edge\",\n \"his belled harness that\\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\\nwhich had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave,\\ninnocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that\\nJehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no\\nneed to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream\",\n \", whose fire was often low, and whose\\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\\nhad taken to drive his mule in of a day for the milk of the various\\ndairies, and there were only three or four of the people who had refused\\nhis terms of purchase and remained faithful to the little green cart.\\nSo that the burden which Patrasche drew had become very light, and the\\ncentime-pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.\\n\\nThe dog would stop, as usual, at all the\",\n \"warmth and abundance\\neverywhere, and the child would fain have made the dog a guest honored\\nand feasted.\\n\\nBut Patrasche would neither lie in the warmth nor share in the cheer.\\nFamished he was and very cold, but without Nello he would partake\\nneither of comfort nor food. Against all temptation he was proof, and\\nclose against the door he leaned always, watching only for a means of\\nescape.\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the\",\n \".\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\\\" For no one but Patrasche knew\\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\\n\\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\\ngoose baking for supper\",\n \"teeth a small case of\\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\\nthere stood a little Calvary, and a lamp burned dully under the cross:\\nthe boy mechanically turned the case to the light: on it was the name of\\nBaas Cogez, and within it were notes for two thousand francs.\\n\\nThe sight roused the lad a little from his stupor. He thrust it in his\\nshirt, and stroked Patrasche and drew him onward. The dog looked up\\nwistfully in his face\",\n \"in them that\\nthere were no curses to rouse him and no blows to drive him; and\\nhis heart awakened to a mighty love, which never wavered once in its\\nfidelity whilst life abode with him.\\n\\nBut Patrasche, being a dog, was grateful. Patrasche lay pondering long\\nwith grave, tender, musing brown eyes, watching the movements of his\\nfriends.\\n\\nNow, the old soldier, Jehan Daas, could do nothing for his living but\\nlimp about a little with a small cart, with which he\",\n \"old, and he\\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\\nand rye being very dear that season. The boy and the dog went on again\\nwearily: they asked no more.\\n\\nBy slow and painful ways they reached Antwerp as the chimes tolled ten.\\n\\n\\\"If I had anything about me I could sell to get him bread!\\\" thought\\nNello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood\"\n ],\n [\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward\\nindependence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly,\\nand yet passionately adored.\\n\\nHe said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood,\\nand little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and\\nwhispered, \\\"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew\",\n \"ost\\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\\\"\\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\\ncollar of gold, and place\",\n \"carry it through the darkness to the silent\\ntown. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years,\\nthat were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old\\nage, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would\\nnever give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him\\nand drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he\\nwould ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the\\ntruck as it lumbered along through the ice-\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"his belled harness that\\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\\nwhich had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave,\\ninnocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that\\nJehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no\\nneed to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream\",\n \"heumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\nyear of age, and knowing the town well from having accompanied his\\ngrandfather so many times, took his place beside the cart, and sold the\\nmilk and received the coins in exchange, and brought them back to their\\nrespective owners with a pretty grace and seriousness which charmed all\\nwho beheld him.\\n\\nThe little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender\\neyes, and a lovely bloom upon\",\n \"not?\\\" said the old man Daas that night\\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\\n\\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\\n\\n\\\"And why not there?\\\" his grandfather pursued. \\\"Thou hast never missed a\\nyear before, Nello.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thou art too sick to leave,\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with\",\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"sports or\\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\\nevery change of mood.\\n\\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\\naccepted he himself should be denied.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nBut he did not complain: it was his\",\n \", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\\npeople who dwelt there.\\n\\n\\\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\\\" he said, timidly. \\\"He is old, and he\\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\\nand\",\n \"had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d\",\n \"the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying\",\n \"was out in terror, and engines came tearing\\nthrough the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose\\nnothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that\\nthe fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.\\n\\nNello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez\\nthrust him angrily aside. \\\"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\\\" he said\\nroughly. \\\"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of\"\n ],\n [\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\\n\\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\n\",\n \"thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"of snow\\nupon the dark stone floor. By that slender white thread, frozen as it\\nfell, he was guided through the intense silence, through the immensity\\nof the vaulted space--guided straight to the gates of the chancel, and,\\nstretched there upon the stones, he found Nello. He crept up and touched\\nthe face of the boy. \\\"Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and\\nforsake thee? I--a dog?\\\" said that mute caress.\\n\\nThe lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close\",\n \", he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\\ntambourine-player into her hands. \\\"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\\nAlois. Take it,\\\" he whispered--\\\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\\\"\\n\\nHe slid\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"and sobbed piteously because\\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \\\"It shall be different\\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying\",\n \", and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\\n\\n[Illustration: child] [Illustration: NELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A\\nSTICK OF CHARCOAL] [Illustration: couple walking]\\n\\nOne day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on\\na pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\\nh\",\n \"It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his\\nbest: the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent,\\nunquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel\\namong the willows and the poplar-trees.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nThe winter was very sharp already. That night, after they reached the\\nhut, snow fell; and fell for very many days\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"sons, and in his death\\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\\n\\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.\",\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"most they could do.\\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\\n\\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\\n\\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\",\n \"upon the two pictures above, from which the boy on his\\nentrance had flung back the veil: the Elevation and the Descent of the\\nCross were for one instant visible.\\n\\nNello rose to his feet and stretched his arms to them; the tears of a\\npassionate ecstasy glistened on the paleness of his face. \\\"I have seen\\nthem at last!\\\" he cried aloud. \\\"O God, it is enough!\\\"\\n\\nHis limbs failed under him, and he sank upon his knees, still gazing\\nupward at the majesty that\"\n ],\n [\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"sports or\\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\\nevery change of mood.\\n\\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\\naccepted he himself should be denied.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nBut he did not complain: it was his\",\n \"the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward\\nindependence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly,\\nand yet passionately adored.\\n\\nHe said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood,\\nand little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and\\nwhispered, \\\"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew\",\n \"thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was\",\n \"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\\\" he said\\nroughly. \\\"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the fire\\nthan any one.\\\"\\n\\nNello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could\\nsay such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could\\npass a jest at such a time.\\n\\nNevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his\\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\\never preferred against the lad,\",\n \"\\nboy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a fallen tree at\\neventide--that was all his theme. But there was greatness for the future\\nin it. I would fain find him, and take him with me and teach him Art.\\\"\\n\\nAnd a little child with curling fair hair, sobbing bitterly as she clung\\nto her father's arm, cried aloud, \\\"Oh, Nello, come! We have all ready\\nfor thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old piper\\nwill play for\",\n \"ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\\n\\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis\",\n \"ost\\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\\\"\\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\\ncollar of gold, and place\",\n \"and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\\n\\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\n\",\n \"most they could do.\\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\\n\\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\\n\\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\",\n \", he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\\ntambourine-player into her hands. \\\"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\\nAlois. Take it,\\\" he whispered--\\\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\\\"\\n\\nHe slid\",\n \"\\ndescending night behind him.\\n\\nIt was rude, of course, in a way, and had many faults, no doubt; and yet\\nit was real, true in nature, true in art, and very mournful, and in a\\nmanner beautiful.\\n\\nPatrasche had lain quiet countless hours watching its gradual creation\\nafter the labor of each day was done, and he knew that Nello had a\\nhope--vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich\"\n ],\n [\n \"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\\\" he said\\nroughly. \\\"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the fire\\nthan any one.\\\"\\n\\nNello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could\\nsay such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could\\npass a jest at such a time.\\n\\nNevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his\\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\\never preferred against the lad,\",\n \"was out in terror, and engines came tearing\\nthrough the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose\\nnothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that\\nthe fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.\\n\\nNello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez\\nthrust him angrily aside. \\\"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\\\" he said\\nroughly. \\\"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of\",\n \"Nello and Patrasche\\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings\\nto which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's\\nabsurd suspicion, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the\\npeople were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of\\nthe place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his\\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\\n\\n\\\"Thou art very cruel to\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"the brutal thing openly to many of his\\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\\never preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had been\\nseen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that he\\nbore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little\\nAlois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest\\nlandowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches\\nof Alois in some future\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \". Nello, in his innocence and his\\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\\n\\n\\\"Thou art very cruel to the lad,\\\" the miller's wife dared to say,\\nweeping, to her lord. \\\"Sure he is an innocent lad and a faithful, and\\nwould never dream of any such wickedness, however sore his heart might\\nbe.\\\"\\n\\nBut Baas Cogez being an obstinate man, having once said a thing held\\nto it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice\\n\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"\\nashamed and almost afraid. \\\"I have been cruel to the lad,\\\" he muttered\\nat length: \\\"I deserved not to have good at his hands.\\\"\\n\\nLittle Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled\\nagainst him her fair curly head. \\\"Nello may come here again, father?\\\"\\nshe whispered. \\\"He may come to-morrow as he used to do?\\\"\\n\\nThe miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very\\npale and his mouth trembled. \\\"Surely, surely,\\\" he answered\",\n \"the only light and warmth there could\\nbe found abode beside the village hearths and in the kindly greetings of\\nneighbors. In the winter-time all drew nearer to each other, all to all,\\nexcept to Nello and Patrasche, with whom none now would have anything\\nto do, and who were left to fare as they might with the old paralyzed,\\nbedridden man in the little cabin, whose fire was often low, and whose\\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\\nhad taken to drive his m\",\n \"and sobbed piteously because\\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \\\"It shall be different\\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always\",\n \"not?\\\" said the old man Daas that night\\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\\n\\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\\n\\n\\\"And why not there?\\\" his grandfather pursued. \\\"Thou hast never missed a\\nyear before, Nello.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thou art too sick to leave,\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with\",\n \"of snow\\nupon the dark stone floor. By that slender white thread, frozen as it\\nfell, he was guided through the intense silence, through the immensity\\nof the vaulted space--guided straight to the gates of the chancel, and,\\nstretched there upon the stones, he found Nello. He crept up and touched\\nthe face of the boy. \\\"Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and\\nforsake thee? I--a dog?\\\" said that mute caress.\\n\\nThe lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close\",\n \",\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does\\nscores of times. What is the cause, Nello?\\\" the old man persisted. \\\"Thou\\nsurely hast not had ill words with the little one?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, grandfather--never,\\\" said the boy quickly, with a hot color in\\nhis bent face. \\\"Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this\\nyear. He has taken some whim against me.\\\"\\n\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\",\n \"the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was\",\n \"lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\\ncompanion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive,\\nwas quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of\\nPatrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to\\nthe old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know:\\nhe supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the\\nportrait of Alois in the me\"\n ],\n [\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"ried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all\\nwould he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the\\nstones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch\\nhimself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain,\\nuntil the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and\\nwinding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\",\n \"\\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\\n\\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\\npast\",\n \"It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his\\nbest: the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent,\\nunquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel\\namong the willows and the poplar-trees.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nThe winter was very sharp already. That night, after they reached the\\nhut, snow fell; and fell for very many days\",\n \"young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \\\"It is too late.\\\"\\n\\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\\n\\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\\nhad taken the\",\n \"them in the air, and ever and\\nagain out of their arched doors a swell of music pealing. There they\\nremain, the grand old sanctuaries of the past, shut in amidst the\\nsqualor, the hurry, the crowds, the unloveliness, and the commerce of\\nthe modern world, and all day long the clouds drift and the birds circle\\nand the winds sigh around them, and beneath the earth at their feet\\nthere sleeps--RUBENS.\\n\\nAnd the greatness of the mighty Master still rests upon Antwerp, and\\nwherever\",\n \"udged to Stephen Kiesslinger, born in the burgh of Antwerp,\\nson of a wharfinger in that town.\\n\\nWhen Nello recovered his consciousness he was lying on the stones\\nwithout, and Patrasche was trying with every art he knew to call him\\nback to life. In the distance a throng of the youths of Antwerp were\\nshouting around their successful comrade, and escorting him with\\nacclamations to his home upon the quay.\\n\\nThe boy staggered to his feet and drew the dog into his embrace. \\\"It is\\nall\",\n \"old, and he\\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\\nand rye being very dear that season. The boy and the dog went on again\\nwearily: they asked no more.\\n\\nBy slow and painful ways they reached Antwerp as the chimes tolled ten.\\n\\n\\\"If I had anything about me I could sell to get him bread!\\\" thought\\nNello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood\",\n \"oly clock almost from their birth\\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\\non the edge of the village, with the cathedral spire of Antwerp rising\\nin the north-east, beyond the great green plain of seeding grass and\\nspreading corn that stretched away from them like a tideless, changeless\\nsea. It was the hut of a very old man, of a very poor man--of old Jehan\\nDaas, who in his time had been a soldier, and who remembered the wars\\nthat had trampled the\",\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"other\\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\\n\\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\\non the edge\",\n \"the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying\",\n \"was out in terror, and engines came tearing\\nthrough the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose\\nnothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that\\nthe fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.\\n\\nNello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez\\nthrust him angrily aside. \\\"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\\\" he said\\nroughly. \\\"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of\",\n \"wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always, dear little Alois, only\\nlove me always, and I will be great.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And if I do not love you?\\\" the pretty child asked, pouting a little\\nthrough her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex.\\n\\nNello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was\",\n \"master into trouble, he\\ndesisted, and remained couched patiently before the churches until such\\ntime as the boy reappeared. It was not the fact of his going into them\\nwhich disturbed Patrasche: he knew that people went to church: all\\nthe village went to the small, tumbledown, gray pile opposite the red\\nwindmill.\\n\\nWhat troubled him was that little Nello always looked strangely when\\nhe came out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay\",\n \"not?\\\" said the old man Daas that night\\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\\n\\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\\n\\n\\\"And why not there?\\\" his grandfather pursued. \\\"Thou hast never missed a\\nyear before, Nello.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thou art too sick to leave,\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"most they could do.\\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\\n\\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\\n\\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\",\n \"sons, and in his death\\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\\n\\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.\"\n ],\n [\n \"young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \\\"It is too late.\\\"\\n\\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\\n\\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\\nhad taken the\",\n \", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\\n\\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\\nPatrasche.\\n\\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\\neffort, drew the sufferer\",\n \"\\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\\n\\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\\npast\",\n \"s. Patrasche was very happy.\\n\\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\n\",\n \"together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\\n\\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\\n\\\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\\\" he murmured. \\\"We will not\\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\\\"\\n\\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they\",\n \"feeble from hunger and sorrow.\\n\\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\\nthere stood a little Calvary\",\n \"when the grave was closed\\nand the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's\\nhands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound\\nwhere the snow was displaced.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts. But even of that poor,\\nmelancholy, cheerless home they were denied the consolation. There was a\\nmonth's rent over-due for their little home, and when Nello had paid the\\nlast sad service to the dead he had not a\",\n \"ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\\nforever\",\n \"they would all go in together to their meal of\\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\\nthe burgh of Rubens it\",\n \"other\\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\\n\\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\\non the edge\",\n \", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\\npeople who dwelt there.\\n\\n\\\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\\\" he said, timidly. \\\"He is old, and he\\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\\nand\",\n \"Nello and Patrasche\\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings\\nto which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's\\nabsurd suspicion, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the\\npeople were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of\\nthe place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his\\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\\n\\n\\\"Thou art very cruel to\",\n \"\\nsaid kindly through her tears. \\\"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\\nWe are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money\\nthat he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will\\nfind it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own\\njudgment for the things we have done to thee.\\\"\\n\\nNello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the\\nhouse. \\\"Patrasche found the money to-night,\\\" he\",\n \".\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\\\" For no one but Patrasche knew\\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\\n\\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\\ngoose baking for supper\",\n \"uring animal, and because he himself had now the hard task\\nof pushing his charette all the way to Louvain. But to stay to look\\nafter Patrasche never entered his thoughts: the beast was dying and\\nuseless, and he would steal, to replace him, the first large dog that he\\nfound wandering alone out of sight of its master. Patrasche had cost him\\nnothing, or next to nothing, and for two long, cruel years had made him\\ntoil ceaselessly in his service from sunrise to sunset, through summer\\nand winter, in fair weather\",\n \", whose fire was often low, and whose\\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\\nhad taken to drive his mule in of a day for the milk of the various\\ndairies, and there were only three or four of the people who had refused\\nhis terms of purchase and remained faithful to the little green cart.\\nSo that the burden which Patrasche drew had become very light, and the\\ncentime-pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.\\n\\nThe dog would stop, as usual, at all the\",\n \"carry it through the darkness to the silent\\ntown. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years,\\nthat were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old\\nage, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would\\nnever give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him\\nand drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he\\nwould ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the\\ntruck as it lumbered along through the ice-\",\n \"ried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all\\nwould he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the\\nstones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch\\nhimself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain,\\nuntil the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and\\nwinding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on\",\n \"at\\nonce. But the old man was very gentle and good to the boy, and the boy\\nwas a beautiful, innocent, truthful, tender-hearted creature; and they\\nwere happy on a crust and a few leaves of cabbage, and asked no more of\\nearth or heaven; save indeed that Patrasche should be always with them,\\nsince without Patrasche where would they have been?\\n\\nFor Patrasche was their alpha and omega; their treasury and granary;\\ntheir store of gold and wand of wealth; their bread-winner and minister;\\n\",\n \"and place himself in his shafts,\\nand plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round feet\\nhad left their print upon so many, many years.\\n\\n\\\"One must never rest till one dies,\\\" thought Patrasche; and sometimes it\\nseemed to him that that time of rest for him was not very far off. His\\nsight was less clear than it had been, and it gave him pain to rise\\nafter the night's sleep, though he would never lie a moment in his straw\\nwhen once the bell of the chapel tolling five let him know that the\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\\n\\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis\",\n \"opened; the eager,\\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden dais..\\n\\nA mist obscured Nello's sight, his head swam, his limbs almost failed\\nhim. When his vision cleared he saw the drawing raised on high: it was\\nnot his own! A slow, sonorous voice was proclaiming aloud that victory\\nhad been adjudged to Stephen Kiesslinger, born in the burgh of Antwerp,\\nson of a wharfinger in that town.\\n\\n\",\n \"\\ndescending night behind him.\\n\\nIt was rude, of course, in a way, and had many faults, no doubt; and yet\\nit was real, true in nature, true in art, and very mournful, and in a\\nmanner beautiful.\\n\\nPatrasche had lain quiet countless hours watching its gradual creation\\nafter the labor of each day was done, and he knew that Nello had a\\nhope--vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich\",\n \"first day of December, and the\\ndecision be given on the twenty-fourth, so that he who should win might\\nrejoice with all his people at the Christmas season.\\n\\nIn the twilight of a bitter wintry day, and with a beating heart, now\\nquick with hope, now faint with fear, Nello placed the great picture\\non his little green milk-cart, and took it, with the help of Patrasche,\\ninto the town, and there left it, as enjoined, at the doors of a public\\nbuilding.\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps it is worth\",\n \". Only to Patrasche he told all, and\\nwhispered, \\\"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew.\\\"\\n\\nPatrasche thought so too, for he knew that Rubens had loved dogs or he\\nhad never painted them with such exquisite fidelity; and men who loved\\ndogs were, as Patrasche knew, always pitiful.\\n\\nThe drawings were to go in on the first day of December, and the\\ndecision be given on the twenty-fourth, so that he who should win might\\nrejoice with all\",\n \",\\ninto the town, and there left it, as enjoined, at the doors of a public\\nbuilding.\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps it is worth nothing at all. How can I tell?\\\" he thought, with\\nthe heart-sickness of a great timidity. Now that he had left it there,\\nit seemed to him so hazardous, so vain, so foolish, to dream that he,\\na little lad with bare feet, who barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as\",\n \"had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d\",\n \"the lad,\\\" he muttered, \\\"and now I would have\\nmade amends--yea, to the half of my substance--and he should have been\\nto me as a son.\\\"\\n\\nThere came also, as the day grew apace, a painter who had fame in the\\nworld, and who was liberal of hand and of spirit. \\\"I seek one who should\\nhave had the prize yesterday had worth won,\\\" he said to the people--\\\"a\\nboy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a fallen tree at\\neventide--that was all his theme. But there was\",\n \"he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured.\\n\\nThe miller was silent: then he stretched his hand out with a franc in\\nit. \\\"It is folly, as I say, and evil waste of time: nevertheless, it is\\nlike Alois, and will please the house-mother. Take this silver bit for\\nit and leave it for me.\\\"\\n\\nThe color died out of the face of the young Ardennois; he lifted\\nhis head and put his hands behind\",\n \"as the price for looking on the\\nglories of the Elevation of the Cross and the Descent of the Cross was\\na thing as utterly beyond the powers of either of them as it would have\\nbeen to scale the heights of the cathedral spire. They had never so much\\nas a sou to spare: if they cleared enough to get a little wood for the\\nstove, a little broth for the pot, it was the utmost they could do.\\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\\nbeholding the greatness of the two\",\n \"held him.\\n\\nThe little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender\\neyes, and a lovely bloom upon his face, and fair locks that clustered to\\nhis throat; and many an artist sketched the group as it went by him--the\\ngreen cart with the brass flagons of Teniers and Mieris and Van Tal,\\nand the great tawny-colored, massive dog, with his belled harness that\\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\\nwhich had little white feet in great\",\n \"the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward\\nindependence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly,\\nand yet passionately adored.\\n\\nHe said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood,\\nand little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and\\nwhispered, \\\"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew\",\n \"up for her first communion her flaxen curls were covered with a\\ncap of richest Mechlin lace, which had been her mother's and her\\ngrandmother's before it came to her. Men spoke already, though she had\\nbut twelve years, of the good wife she would be for their sons to woo\\nand win; but she herself was a little gay, simple child, in nowise\\nconscious of her heritage, and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\\n\\n[Illustration:\",\n \"whilst his gift was\\naccepted he himself should be denied.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nBut he did not complain: it was his habit to be quiet: old Jehan Daas\\nhad said ever to him, \\\"We are poor: we must take what God sends--the ill\\nwith the good: the poor cannot choose.\\\"\\n\\nTo which the boy had always listened in silence, being reverent of his\\nold grandfather; but nevertheless a certain vague, sweet hope, such as\\nbeguiles the children of genius, had whispered in his heart, \\\"Yet the\\npoor do\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw him draw with chalk upon\\nthe stones any and every thing that grew or breathed, heard him on his\\nlittle bed of hay murmur all manner of timid, pathetic prayers to the\\nspirit of the great Master; watched his gaze darken and his face radiate\\nat the evening glow of sunset or the rosy rising of the dawn; and felt\\nmany and many a time the tears of a strange, nameless pain and joy\",\n \", and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\\n\\n[Illustration: child] [Illustration: NELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A\\nSTICK OF CHARCOAL] [Illustration: couple walking]\\n\\nOne day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on\\na pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\\nh\",\n \"most they could do.\\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\\n\\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\\n\\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\",\n \"crackled and flamed on the\\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\\ngoose baking for supper. Alois, gleeful and sure of her playmate back\\non the morrow, bounded and sang and tossed back her yellow hair. Baas\\nCogez, in the fulness of his heart, smiled on her through moistened\\neyes, and spoke of the way in which he would befriend her favorite\\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\\nspinning-wheel; the cuck\"\n ],\n [\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward\\nindependence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly,\\nand yet passionately adored.\\n\\nHe said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood,\\nand little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and\\nwhispered, \\\"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"carry it through the darkness to the silent\\ntown. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years,\\nthat were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old\\nage, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would\\nnever give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him\\nand drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he\\nwould ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the\\ntruck as it lumbered along through the ice-\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"ost\\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\\\"\\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\\ncollar of gold, and place\",\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"heumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\nyear of age, and knowing the town well from having accompanied his\\ngrandfather so many times, took his place beside the cart, and sold the\\nmilk and received the coins in exchange, and brought them back to their\\nrespective owners with a pretty grace and seriousness which charmed all\\nwho beheld him.\\n\\nThe little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender\\neyes, and a lovely bloom upon\",\n \"not?\\\" said the old man Daas that night\\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\\n\\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\\n\\n\\\"And why not there?\\\" his grandfather pursued. \\\"Thou hast never missed a\\nyear before, Nello.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thou art too sick to leave,\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with\",\n \"his belled harness that\\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\\nwhich had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave,\\ninnocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that\\nJehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no\\nneed to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"sports or\\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\\nevery change of mood.\\n\\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\\naccepted he himself should be denied.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nBut he did not complain: it was his\",\n \"had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d\",\n \"\\ndescending night behind him.\\n\\nIt was rude, of course, in a way, and had many faults, no doubt; and yet\\nit was real, true in nature, true in art, and very mournful, and in a\\nmanner beautiful.\\n\\nPatrasche had lain quiet countless hours watching its gradual creation\\nafter the labor of each day was done, and he knew that Nello had a\\nhope--vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich\",\n \"was out in terror, and engines came tearing\\nthrough the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose\\nnothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that\\nthe fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.\\n\\nNello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez\\nthrust him angrily aside. \\\"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\\\" he said\\nroughly. \\\"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of\",\n \".\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\\\" For no one but Patrasche knew\\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\\n\\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\\ngoose baking for supper\",\n \"obstinate man, having once said a thing held\\nto it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice\\nthat he was committing.\\n\\nMeanwhile, Nello endured the injury done against him with a certain\\nproud patience that disdained to complain: he only gave way a little\\nwhen he was quite alone with old Patrasche. Besides, he thought, \\\"If it\\nshould win! They will be sorry then, perhaps.\\\"\\n\\nStill, to a boy not quite sixteen, and who had dwelt in one little world\\nall\"\n ],\n [\n \",\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does\\nscores of times. What is the cause, Nello?\\\" the old man persisted. \\\"Thou\\nsurely hast not had ill words with the little one?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, grandfather--never,\\\" said the boy quickly, with a hot color in\\nhis bent face. \\\"Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this\\nyear. He has taken some whim against me.\\\"\\n\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \", and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\\n\\n[Illustration: child] [Illustration: NELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A\\nSTICK OF CHARCOAL] [Illustration: couple walking]\\n\\nOne day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on\\na pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\\nh\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"sports or\\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\\nevery change of mood.\\n\\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\\naccepted he himself should be denied.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nBut he did not complain: it was his\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"and sobbed piteously because\\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \\\"It shall be different\\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always\",\n \"and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\\n\\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\n\",\n \"would befriend her favorite\\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\\nspinning-wheel; the cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst\\nit all Patrasche was bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry\\nthere a cherished guest. But neither peace nor plenty could allure him\\nwhere Nello was not.\\n\\nWhen the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest\\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\\n\",\n \", he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\\ntambourine-player into her hands. \\\"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\\nAlois. Take it,\\\" he whispered--\\\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\\\"\\n\\nHe slid\",\n \"\\nashamed and almost afraid. \\\"I have been cruel to the lad,\\\" he muttered\\nat length: \\\"I deserved not to have good at his hands.\\\"\\n\\nLittle Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled\\nagainst him her fair curly head. \\\"Nello may come here again, father?\\\"\\nshe whispered. \\\"He may come to-morrow as he used to do?\\\"\\n\\nThe miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very\\npale and his mouth trembled. \\\"Surely, surely,\\\" he answered\",\n \"wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always, dear little Alois, only\\nlove me always, and I will be great.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And if I do not love you?\\\" the pretty child asked, pouting a little\\nthrough her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex.\\n\\nNello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was\",\n \"lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\\ncompanion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive,\\nwas quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of\\nPatrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to\\nthe old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know:\\nhe supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the\\nportrait of Alois in the me\",\n \"not?\\\" said the old man Daas that night\\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\\n\\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\\n\\n\\\"And why not there?\\\" his grandfather pursued. \\\"Thou hast never missed a\\nyear before, Nello.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thou art too sick to leave,\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with\",\n \"the brutal thing openly to many of his\\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\\never preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had been\\nseen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that he\\nbore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little\\nAlois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest\\nlandowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches\\nof Alois in some future\",\n \"ost\\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\\\"\\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\\ncollar of gold, and place\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"Nello and Patrasche\\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings\\nto which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's\\nabsurd suspicion, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the\\npeople were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of\\nthe place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his\\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\\n\\n\\\"Thou art very cruel to\"\n ],\n [\n \"together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\\n\\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\\n\\\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\\\" he murmured. \\\"We will not\\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\\\"\\n\\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they\",\n \"ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\\nforever\",\n \"\\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\\n\\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\\npast\",\n \", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\\n\\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\\nPatrasche.\\n\\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\\neffort, drew the sufferer\",\n \"on the board, and the voices were loudest\\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\\nPatrasche, watching always an occasion, glided out when the door was\\nunlatched by a careless new-comer, and as swiftly as his weak and tired\\nlimbs would bear him sped over the snow in the bitter, black night. He\\nhad only one thought--to follow Nello. A human friend might have paused\\nfor the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that\\nwas\",\n \"other\\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\\n\\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\\non the edge\",\n \"and trod onward\\nwith steady patience.\\n\\n\\\"Rest thee at home, Patrasche--it is time thou didst rest--and I can\\nquite well push in the cart by myself,\\\" urged Nello many a morning; but\\nPatrasche, who understood him aright, would no more have consented\\nto stay at home than a veteran soldier to shirk when the charge was\\nsounding; and every day he would rise and place himself in his shafts,\\nand plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round feet\\nhad left their print upon so many\",\n \"pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.\\n\\nThe dog would stop, as usual, at all the familiar gates, which were now\\nclosed to him, and look up at them with wistful, mute appeal; and it\\ncost the neighbors a pang to shut their doors and their hearts, and let\\nPatrasche draw his cart on again, empty. Nevertheless, they did it, for\\nthey desired to please Baas Cogez.\\n\\nNoël was close at hand.\\n\\nThe weather was very wild and cold. The\",\n \"feeble from hunger and sorrow.\\n\\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\\nthere stood a little Calvary\",\n \"\\nsaid kindly through her tears. \\\"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\\nWe are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money\\nthat he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will\\nfind it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own\\njudgment for the things we have done to thee.\\\"\\n\\nNello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the\\nhouse. \\\"Patrasche found the money to-night,\\\" he\",\n \"would befriend her favorite\\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\\nspinning-wheel; the cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst\\nit all Patrasche was bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry\\nthere a cherished guest. But neither peace nor plenty could allure him\\nwhere Nello was not.\\n\\nWhen the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest\\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\\n\",\n \".\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\\\" For no one but Patrasche knew\\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\\n\\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\\ngoose baking for supper\",\n \", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\\npeople who dwelt there.\\n\\n\\\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\\\" he said, timidly. \\\"He is old, and he\\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\\nand\",\n \"follow Nello. A human friend might have paused\\nfor the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that\\nwas not the friendship of Patrasche. He remembered a bygone time, when\\nan old man and a little child had found him sick unto death in the\\nwayside ditch.\\n\\nSnow had fallen freshly all the evening long; it was now nearly ten; the\\ntrail of the boy's footsteps was almost obliterated. It took Patrasche\\nlong to discover any scent. When at last he found it, it\",\n \"come! We have all ready\\nfor thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old piper\\nwill play for us; and the mother says thou shalt stay by the hearth and\\nburn nuts with us all the Noël week long--yes, even to the Feast of the\\nKings! And Patrasche will be so happy! Oh, Nello, wake and come!\\\"\\n\\nBut the young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \\\"It is too late.\\\"\",\n \"they would all go in together to their meal of\\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\\nthe burgh of Rubens it\",\n \"young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \\\"It is too late.\\\"\\n\\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\\n\\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\\nhad taken the\",\n \"need to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream and pray\\na little, and then awake again as the clock tolled three and watch for\\ntheir return. And on their return Patrasche would shake himself free of\\nhis harness with a bay of glee, and Nello would recount with pride the\\ndoings of the day; and they would all go in together to their meal of\\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\\ngreat\",\n \"his belled harness that\\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\\nwhich had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave,\\ninnocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that\\nJehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no\\nneed to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream\",\n \"winter the winds found many holes in the walls\\nof the poor little hut, and the vine was black and leafless, and the\\nbare lands looked very bleak and drear without, and sometimes within the\\nfloor was flooded and then frozen. In winter it was hard, and the snow\\nnumbed the little white limbs of Nello, and the icicles cut the brave,\\nuntiring feet of Patrasche.\\n\\nBut even then they were never heard to lament, either of them. The\\nchild's wooden shoes and the dog's four legs would trot\"\n ],\n [\n \"edly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood in a small plot of garden-ground that yielded\\nbeans and herbs and pumpkins. They were very poor, terribly poor--many a\\nday they had nothing at all to eat. They never by any chance had enough:\\nto have had enough to eat would have been to have reached paradise at\\nonce. But the old man was very gentle and good to the boy, and the boy\\nwas a beautiful, innocent, truthful, tender-\",\n \"crackled and flamed on the\\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\\ngoose baking for supper. Alois, gleeful and sure of her playmate back\\non the morrow, bounded and sang and tossed back her yellow hair. Baas\\nCogez, in the fulness of his heart, smiled on her through moistened\\neyes, and spoke of the way in which he would befriend her favorite\\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\\nspinning-wheel; the cuck\",\n \"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\\\" he said\\nroughly. \\\"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the fire\\nthan any one.\\\"\\n\\nNello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could\\nsay such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could\\npass a jest at such a time.\\n\\nNevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his\\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\\never preferred against the lad,\",\n \"feeble from hunger and sorrow.\\n\\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\\nthere stood a little Calvary\",\n \"in the\\nshadows--now and then a gleam of light came on the ranks of carven\\nfigures. Under the Rubens they lay together quite still, and soothed\\nalmost into a dreaming slumber by the numbing narcotic of the cold.\\nTogether they dreamed of the old glad days when they had chased each\\nother through the flowering grasses of the summer meadows, or sat hidden\\nin the tall bulrushes by the water's side, watching the boats go seaward\\nin the sun.\\n\\nSuddenly through the darkness a great\",\n \"and form.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And he is a good lad and a loyal,\\\" said the housewife, feasting her\\neyes on the piece of pine wood where it was throned above the chimney\\nwith a cuckoo clock in oak and a Calvary in wax.\\n\\n\\\"Yea, I do not gainsay that,\\\" said the miller, draining his pewter\\nflagon.\\n\\n\\\"Then, if what you think of were ever to come to pass,\\\" said the wife,\\nhesitatingly, \\\"would it matter so much? She will have enough for\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"age by length of years, yet one was still young, and the other was\\nalready old. They had dwelt together almost all their days: both were\\norphaned and destitute, and owed their lives to the same hand. It\\nhad been the beginning of the tie between them, their first bond of\\nsympathy; and it had strengthened day by day, and had grown with\\ntheir growth, firm and indissoluble, until they loved one another very\\ngreatly. Their home was a little hut on the edge of a little village--a\\nFlemish village\",\n \"they would all go in together to their meal of\\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\\nthe burgh of Rubens it\",\n \"of\\nbread; and the hearts of the old man and the old dog ached together with\\none thought: When they were gone, who would care for their darling?\\n\\nOne afternoon, as they came back from Antwerp over the snow, which had\\nbecome hard and smooth as marble over all the Flemish plains, they found\\ndropped in the road a pretty little puppet, a tambourine--player, all\\nscarlet and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its\",\n \"and its\\nflowering beans, it was so pretty and bright in the midst of the\\nsunlighted fields! There life in it had been full of labor and\\nprivation, and yet they had been so well content, so gay of heart,\\nrunning together to meet the old man's never-failing smile of welcome!\\n\\nAll night long the boy and the dog sat by the fireless hearth in the\\ndarkness, drawn close together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\\n\\nWhen the morning broke\",\n \"\\nashamed and almost afraid. \\\"I have been cruel to the lad,\\\" he muttered\\nat length: \\\"I deserved not to have good at his hands.\\\"\\n\\nLittle Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled\\nagainst him her fair curly head. \\\"Nello may come here again, father?\\\"\\nshe whispered. \\\"He may come to-morrow as he used to do?\\\"\\n\\nThe miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very\\npale and his mouth trembled. \\\"Surely, surely,\\\" he answered\",\n \"not?\\\" said the old man Daas that night\\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\\n\\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\\n\\n\\\"And why not there?\\\" his grandfather pursued. \\\"Thou hast never missed a\\nyear before, Nello.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thou art too sick to leave,\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with\",\n \"were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was but a child, yet he smiled, for\\nhe said to himself, \\\"In the future!\\\" He stayed there until all was quite\\nstill and dark, then he and Patrasche went within and slept together,\\nlong and deeply, side by side.\\n\\n\\n\\nNow he had a secret which only Patrasche knew. There was a little\\nout-house to the hut, which no one entered but himself--a dreary place,\\n\",\n \"ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\\nforever\",\n \"! They will be sorry then, perhaps.\\\"\\n\\nStill, to a boy not quite sixteen, and who had dwelt in one little world\\nall his short life, and in his childhood had been caressed and applauded\\non all sides, it was a hard trial to have the whole of that little world\\nturn against him for naught. Especially hard in that bleak, snow-bound,\\nfamine-stricken winter-time, when the only light and warmth there could\\nbe found abode beside the village hearths and in the kindly greetings of\\nneighbors\",\n \"their return. They mourned for him unceasingly, refusing to be\\ncomforted, as in the white winter day they followed the deal shell that\\nheld his body to the nameless grave by the little gray church. They were\\nhis only mourners, these two whom he had left friendless upon earth--the\\nyoung boy and the old dog.\\n\\n\\\"Surely, he will relent now and let the poor lad come hither?\\\" thought\\nthe miller's wife, glancing at her husband smoking by the hearth.\\n\\nBaas Cogez knew her thought\",\n \"It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his\\nbest: the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent,\\nunquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel\\namong the willows and the poplar-trees.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nThe winter was very sharp already. That night, after they reached the\\nhut, snow fell; and fell for very many days\",\n \"had been in its infancy, half a century\\nor more earlier, when it had ground wheat for the soldiers of Napoleon;\\nand it was now a ruddy brown, tanned by wind and weather. It went\\nqueerly by fits and starts, as though rheumatic and stiff in the joints\\nfrom age, but it served the whole neighborhood, which would have thought\\nit almost as impious to carry grain elsewhere as to attend any other\\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which\",\n \"It was a busy road\\nthat day, and hundreds of people, on foot and on mules, in wagons or in\\ncarts, went by, tramping quickly and joyously on to Louvain. Some saw\\nhim, most did not even look: all passed on. A dead dog more or less--it\\nwas nothing in Brabant: it would be nothing anywhere in the world.\\n\\n\\n\\nAfter a time, among the holiday-makers, there came a little old man who\\nwas bent and lame, and very feeble. He was in no guise for fe\"\n ],\n [\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"not?\\\" said the old man Daas that night\\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\\n\\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\\n\\n\\\"And why not there?\\\" his grandfather pursued. \\\"Thou hast never missed a\\nyear before, Nello.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thou art too sick to leave,\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \",\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does\\nscores of times. What is the cause, Nello?\\\" the old man persisted. \\\"Thou\\nsurely hast not had ill words with the little one?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, grandfather--never,\\\" said the boy quickly, with a hot color in\\nhis bent face. \\\"Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this\\nyear. He has taken some whim against me.\\\"\\n\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"ost\\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\\\"\\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\\ncollar of gold, and place\",\n \"lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\\ncompanion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive,\\nwas quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of\\nPatrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to\\nthe old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know:\\nhe supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the\\nportrait of Alois in the me\",\n \"\\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\\n\\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\\npast\",\n \"had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d\",\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"heumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\nyear of age, and knowing the town well from having accompanied his\\ngrandfather so many times, took his place beside the cart, and sold the\\nmilk and received the coins in exchange, and brought them back to their\\nrespective owners with a pretty grace and seriousness which charmed all\\nwho beheld him.\\n\\nThe little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender\\neyes, and a lovely bloom upon\",\n \"sons, and in his death\\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\\n\\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.\",\n \".\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\\\" For no one but Patrasche knew\\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\\n\\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\\ngoose baking for supper\",\n \"s. Patrasche was very happy.\\n\\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\n\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"would befriend her favorite\\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\\nspinning-wheel; the cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst\\nit all Patrasche was bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry\\nthere a cherished guest. But neither peace nor plenty could allure him\\nwhere Nello was not.\\n\\nWhen the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest\\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\\\" he said\\nroughly. \\\"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the fire\\nthan any one.\\\"\\n\\nNello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could\\nsay such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could\\npass a jest at such a time.\\n\\nNevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his\\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\\never preferred against the lad,\",\n \"was out in terror, and engines came tearing\\nthrough the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose\\nnothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that\\nthe fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.\\n\\nNello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez\\nthrust him angrily aside. \\\"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\\\" he said\\nroughly. \\\"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of\",\n \"the brutal thing openly to many of his\\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\\never preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had been\\nseen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that he\\nbore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little\\nAlois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest\\nlandowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches\\nof Alois in some future\",\n \"Nello and Patrasche\\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings\\nto which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's\\nabsurd suspicion, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the\\npeople were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of\\nthe place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his\\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\\n\\n\\\"Thou art very cruel to\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \". Nello, in his innocence and his\\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\\n\\n\\\"Thou art very cruel to the lad,\\\" the miller's wife dared to say,\\nweeping, to her lord. \\\"Sure he is an innocent lad and a faithful, and\\nwould never dream of any such wickedness, however sore his heart might\\nbe.\\\"\\n\\nBut Baas Cogez being an obstinate man, having once said a thing held\\nto it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice\\n\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"\\nashamed and almost afraid. \\\"I have been cruel to the lad,\\\" he muttered\\nat length: \\\"I deserved not to have good at his hands.\\\"\\n\\nLittle Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled\\nagainst him her fair curly head. \\\"Nello may come here again, father?\\\"\\nshe whispered. \\\"He may come to-morrow as he used to do?\\\"\\n\\nThe miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very\\npale and his mouth trembled. \\\"Surely, surely,\\\" he answered\",\n \"the only light and warmth there could\\nbe found abode beside the village hearths and in the kindly greetings of\\nneighbors. In the winter-time all drew nearer to each other, all to all,\\nexcept to Nello and Patrasche, with whom none now would have anything\\nto do, and who were left to fare as they might with the old paralyzed,\\nbedridden man in the little cabin, whose fire was often low, and whose\\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\\nhad taken to drive his m\",\n \"thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was\",\n \"and sobbed piteously because\\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \\\"It shall be different\\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always\",\n \"not?\\\" said the old man Daas that night\\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\\n\\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\\n\\n\\\"And why not there?\\\" his grandfather pursued. \\\"Thou hast never missed a\\nyear before, Nello.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thou art too sick to leave,\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with\",\n \",\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does\\nscores of times. What is the cause, Nello?\\\" the old man persisted. \\\"Thou\\nsurely hast not had ill words with the little one?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, grandfather--never,\\\" said the boy quickly, with a hot color in\\nhis bent face. \\\"Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this\\nyear. He has taken some whim against me.\\\"\\n\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\\ncompanion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive,\\nwas quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of\\nPatrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to\\nthe old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know:\\nhe supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the\\nportrait of Alois in the me\",\n \"and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\\n\\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\n\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"a\\nmonth's rent over-due for their little home, and when Nello had paid the\\nlast sad service to the dead he had not a coin left. He went and begged\\ngrace of the owner of the hut, a cobbler who went every Sunday night\\nto drink his pint of wine and smoke with Baas Cogez. The cobbler would\\ngrant no mercy. He was a harsh, miserly man, and loved money. He claimed\\nin default of his rent every stick and stone, every pot and pan, in the\\nhut, and bade Nello and\"\n ],\n [\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\\n\\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis\",\n \"\\ndescending night behind him.\\n\\nIt was rude, of course, in a way, and had many faults, no doubt; and yet\\nit was real, true in nature, true in art, and very mournful, and in a\\nmanner beautiful.\\n\\nPatrasche had lain quiet countless hours watching its gradual creation\\nafter the labor of each day was done, and he knew that Nello had a\\nhope--vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich\",\n \"opened; the eager,\\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden dais..\\n\\nA mist obscured Nello's sight, his head swam, his limbs almost failed\\nhim. When his vision cleared he saw the drawing raised on high: it was\\nnot his own! A slow, sonorous voice was proclaiming aloud that victory\\nhad been adjudged to Stephen Kiesslinger, born in the burgh of Antwerp,\\nson of a wharfinger in that town.\\n\\n\",\n \"first day of December, and the\\ndecision be given on the twenty-fourth, so that he who should win might\\nrejoice with all his people at the Christmas season.\\n\\nIn the twilight of a bitter wintry day, and with a beating heart, now\\nquick with hope, now faint with fear, Nello placed the great picture\\non his little green milk-cart, and took it, with the help of Patrasche,\\ninto the town, and there left it, as enjoined, at the doors of a public\\nbuilding.\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps it is worth\",\n \"had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying\",\n \"he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured.\\n\\nThe miller was silent: then he stretched his hand out with a franc in\\nit. \\\"It is folly, as I say, and evil waste of time: nevertheless, it is\\nlike Alois, and will please the house-mother. Take this silver bit for\\nit and leave it for me.\\\"\\n\\nThe color died out of the face of the young Ardennois; he lifted\\nhis head and put his hands behind\",\n \"the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward\\nindependence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly,\\nand yet passionately adored.\\n\\nHe said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood,\\nand little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and\\nwhispered, \\\"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"most they could do.\\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\\n\\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\\n\\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\",\n \". Only to Patrasche he told all, and\\nwhispered, \\\"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew.\\\"\\n\\nPatrasche thought so too, for he knew that Rubens had loved dogs or he\\nhad never painted them with such exquisite fidelity; and men who loved\\ndogs were, as Patrasche knew, always pitiful.\\n\\nThe drawings were to go in on the first day of December, and the\\ndecision be given on the twenty-fourth, so that he who should win might\\nrejoice with all\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"\\nboy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a fallen tree at\\neventide--that was all his theme. But there was greatness for the future\\nin it. I would fain find him, and take him with me and teach him Art.\\\"\\n\\nAnd a little child with curling fair hair, sobbing bitterly as she clung\\nto her father's arm, cried aloud, \\\"Oh, Nello, come! We have all ready\\nfor thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old piper\\nwill play for\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"By_ Maria L. Kirk\\n\\n\\n\\nILLUSTRATIONS\\n\\nNELLO, AWAKENED FROM HIS SLEEP, RAN TO HELP WITH THE REST\\n\\nTHEN LITTLE NELLO TOOK HIS PLACE BESIDE THE CART\\n\\nNELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A STICK OF CHARCOAL\\n\\nTHE PORTALS OF THE CATHEDRAL WERE UNCLOSED AFTER THE MIDNIGHT MASS\\n\\nA DOG OF FLANDERS\\n\\nA STORY OF\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\\nhay, with the great tawny head of Patrasche on her lap, and many wreaths\\nof poppies and blue corn-flowers round them both: on a clean smooth slab\\nof pine wood the boy Nello drew their likeness with a stick of charcoal.\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child\",\n \"ost\\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\\\"\\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\\ncollar of gold, and place\"\n ],\n [\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\\n\\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\\nPatrasche.\\n\\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\\neffort, drew the sufferer\",\n \"together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\\n\\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\\n\\\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\\\" he murmured. \\\"We will not\\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\\\"\\n\\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they\",\n \", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\\npeople who dwelt there.\\n\\n\\\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\\\" he said, timidly. \\\"He is old, and he\\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\\nand\",\n \"ost\\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\\\"\\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\\ncollar of gold, and place\",\n \"\\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\\n\\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\\npast\",\n \"feeble from hunger and sorrow.\\n\\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\\nthere stood a little Calvary\",\n \"ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\\nforever\",\n \"other\\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\\n\\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\\non the edge\",\n \"pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.\\n\\nThe dog would stop, as usual, at all the familiar gates, which were now\\nclosed to him, and look up at them with wistful, mute appeal; and it\\ncost the neighbors a pang to shut their doors and their hearts, and let\\nPatrasche draw his cart on again, empty. Nevertheless, they did it, for\\nthey desired to please Baas Cogez.\\n\\nNoël was close at hand.\\n\\nThe weather was very wild and cold. The\",\n \"warmth and abundance\\neverywhere, and the child would fain have made the dog a guest honored\\nand feasted.\\n\\nBut Patrasche would neither lie in the warmth nor share in the cheer.\\nFamished he was and very cold, but without Nello he would partake\\nneither of comfort nor food. Against all temptation he was proof, and\\nclose against the door he leaned always, watching only for a means of\\nescape.\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the\",\n \".\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\\\" For no one but Patrasche knew\\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\\n\\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\\ngoose baking for supper\",\n \"aloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung round his rugged\\nneck with chains of marguerites, and kissed him with fresh and ruddy\\nlips.\\n\\nSo then, when Patrasche arose, himself again, strong, big, gaunt,\\npowerful, his great wistful eyes had a gentle astonishment in them that\\nthere were no curses to rouse him and no blows to drive him; and\\nhis heart awakened to a mighty\",\n \"young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \\\"It is too late.\\\"\\n\\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\\n\\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\\nhad taken the\",\n \"old, and he\\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\\nand rye being very dear that season. The boy and the dog went on again\\nwearily: they asked no more.\\n\\nBy slow and painful ways they reached Antwerp as the chimes tolled ten.\\n\\n\\\"If I had anything about me I could sell to get him bread!\\\" thought\\nNello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood\",\n \"when the grave was closed\\nand the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's\\nhands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound\\nwhere the snow was displaced.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts. But even of that poor,\\nmelancholy, cheerless home they were denied the consolation. There was a\\nmonth's rent over-due for their little home, and when Nello had paid the\\nlast sad service to the dead he had not a\",\n \"alpha and omega; their treasury and granary;\\ntheir store of gold and wand of wealth; their bread-winner and minister;\\ntheir only friend and comforter. Patrasche dead or gone from them, they\\nmust have laid themselves down and died likewise. Patrasche was body,\\nbrains, hands, head, and feet to both of them: Patrasche was their very\\nlife, their very soul. For Jehan Daas was old and a cripple, and Nello\\nwas but a child; and Patrasche was their dog.\\n\\n\\n\",\n \"they would all go in together to their meal of\\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\\nthe burgh of Rubens it\",\n \"s. Patrasche was very happy.\\n\\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\n\",\n \"HEDRAL WERE UNCLOSED AFTER THE MIDNIGHT MASS\\n\\nA DOG OF FLANDERS\\n\\nA STORY OF NÃEL\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nNello and Patrasche were left all alone in the world.\\n\\nThey were friends in a friendship closer than brotherhood. Nello was\\na little Ardennois--Patrasche was a big Fleming. They were both of the\\nsame age by length of years, yet one was still young, and the other was\\nalready old. They had dwelt together almost all their days: both\"\n ],\n [\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\\n\\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\n\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \", he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\\ntambourine-player into her hands. \\\"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\\nAlois. Take it,\\\" he whispered--\\\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\\\"\\n\\nHe slid\",\n \"and sobbed piteously because\\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \\\"It shall be different\\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always\",\n \"of snow\\nupon the dark stone floor. By that slender white thread, frozen as it\\nfell, he was guided through the intense silence, through the immensity\\nof the vaulted space--guided straight to the gates of the chancel, and,\\nstretched there upon the stones, he found Nello. He crept up and touched\\nthe face of the boy. \\\"Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and\\nforsake thee? I--a dog?\\\" said that mute caress.\\n\\nThe lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying\",\n \", and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\\n\\n[Illustration: child] [Illustration: NELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A\\nSTICK OF CHARCOAL] [Illustration: couple walking]\\n\\nOne day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on\\na pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\\nh\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his\\nbest: the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent,\\nunquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel\\namong the willows and the poplar-trees.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nThe winter was very sharp already. That night, after they reached the\\nhut, snow fell; and fell for very many days\",\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"most they could do.\\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\\n\\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\\n\\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\",\n \"wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always, dear little Alois, only\\nlove me always, and I will be great.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And if I do not love you?\\\" the pretty child asked, pouting a little\\nthrough her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex.\\n\\nNello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was\",\n \"upon the two pictures above, from which the boy on his\\nentrance had flung back the veil: the Elevation and the Descent of the\\nCross were for one instant visible.\\n\\nNello rose to his feet and stretched his arms to them; the tears of a\\npassionate ecstasy glistened on the paleness of his face. \\\"I have seen\\nthem at last!\\\" he cried aloud. \\\"O God, it is enough!\\\"\\n\\nHis limbs failed under him, and he sank upon his knees, still gazing\\nupward at the majesty that\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\"\n ],\n [\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"\\nboy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a fallen tree at\\neventide--that was all his theme. But there was greatness for the future\\nin it. I would fain find him, and take him with me and teach him Art.\\\"\\n\\nAnd a little child with curling fair hair, sobbing bitterly as she clung\\nto her father's arm, cried aloud, \\\"Oh, Nello, come! We have all ready\\nfor thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old piper\\nwill play for\",\n \"sports or\\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\\nevery change of mood.\\n\\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\\naccepted he himself should be denied.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nBut he did not complain: it was his\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \", he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\\ntambourine-player into her hands. \\\"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\\nAlois. Take it,\\\" he whispered--\\\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\\\"\\n\\nHe slid\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"ost\\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\\\"\\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\\ncollar of gold, and place\",\n \"ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\\n\\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis\",\n \"the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying\",\n \"thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was\",\n \"had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d\",\n \"most they could do.\\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\\n\\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\\n\\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\",\n \"and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\\n\\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\n\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\",\n \"sons, and in his death\\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\\n\\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.\"\n ],\n [\n \"age by length of years, yet one was still young, and the other was\\nalready old. They had dwelt together almost all their days: both were\\norphaned and destitute, and owed their lives to the same hand. It\\nhad been the beginning of the tie between them, their first bond of\\nsympathy; and it had strengthened day by day, and had grown with\\ntheir growth, firm and indissoluble, until they loved one another very\\ngreatly. Their home was a little hut on the edge of a little village--a\\nFlemish village\",\n \"very poor man--of old Jehan\\nDaas, who in his time had been a soldier, and who remembered the wars\\nthat had trampled the country as oxen tread down the furrows, and who\\nhad brought from his service nothing except a wound, which had made him\\na cripple.\\n\\nWhen old Jehan Daas had reached his full eighty, his daughter had\\ndied in the Ardennes, hard by Stavelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\\nforever old Jehan Daas, who had never known life aught save its poverty\\nand its pains. He had long been half dead, incapable of any movement\\nexcept a feeble gesture, and powerless for anything beyond a gentle\\nword; and yet his loss fell on them both with a great horror in it: they\\nmourned him passionately. He had passed away from them in his sleep,\\nand when in the gray dawn they learned their\",\n \"\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw him draw with chalk upon\\nthe stones any and every thing that grew or breathed, heard him on his\\nlittle bed of hay murmur all manner of timid, pathetic prayers to the\\nspirit of the great Master; watched his gaze darken and his face radiate\\nat the evening glow of sunset or the rosy rising of the dawn; and felt\\nmany and many a time the tears of a strange, nameless pain and joy\",\n \"a certain vague, sweet hope, such as\\nbeguiles the children of genius, had whispered in his heart, \\\"Yet the\\npoor do choose sometimes--choose to be great, so that men cannot say\\nthem nay.\\\" And he thought so still in his innocence; and one day, when\\nthe little Alois, finding him by chance alone among the cornfields by\\nthe canal, ran to him and held him close, and sobbed piteously because\\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\\nlife her parents\",\n \"left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was a\\nsmile on his face so sweet and yet so sad that little Alois was awed by\\nit. \\\"I will be great still,\\\" he said under his breath--\\\"great still, or\\ndie, Alois.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You do not love me,\\\" said the little spoilt child, pushing him away;\\nbut the boy shook his head and smiled, and went on his way through the\\ntall yellow corn, seeing as\",\n \"whilst his gift was\\naccepted he himself should be denied.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nBut he did not complain: it was his habit to be quiet: old Jehan Daas\\nhad said ever to him, \\\"We are poor: we must take what God sends--the ill\\nwith the good: the poor cannot choose.\\\"\\n\\nTo which the boy had always listened in silence, being reverent of his\\nold grandfather; but nevertheless a certain vague, sweet hope, such as\\nbeguiles the children of genius, had whispered in his heart, \\\"Yet the\\npoor do\",\n \"edly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood in a small plot of garden-ground that yielded\\nbeans and herbs and pumpkins. They were very poor, terribly poor--many a\\nday they had nothing at all to eat. They never by any chance had enough:\\nto have had enough to eat would have been to have reached paradise at\\nonce. But the old man was very gentle and good to the boy, and the boy\\nwas a beautiful, innocent, truthful, tender-\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"worse than a beggar. Have a care that they\\nare not together in the future, or I will send the child to the surer\\nkeeping of the nuns of the Sacred Heart.\\\"\\n\\nThe poor mother was terrified, and promised humbly to do his will. Not\\nthat she could bring herself altogether to separate the child from\\nher favorite playmate, nor did the miller even desire that extreme of\\ncruelty to a young lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\\ncompanion;\",\n \"oly clock almost from their birth\\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\\non the edge of the village, with the cathedral spire of Antwerp rising\\nin the north-east, beyond the great green plain of seeding grass and\\nspreading corn that stretched away from them like a tideless, changeless\\nsea. It was the hut of a very old man, of a very poor man--of old Jehan\\nDaas, who in his time had been a soldier, and who remembered the wars\\nthat had trampled the\",\n \"sons, and in his death\\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\\n\\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.\",\n \"\\ndays over the sharp-set stones of the various cities and the long,\\nshadowless, weary roads of the two Flanders and of Brabant. He had been\\nborn to no other heritage than those of pain and of toil. He had been\\nfed on curses and baptized with blows. Why not? It was a Christian\\ncountry, and Patrasche was but a dog. Before he was fully grown he had\\nknown the bitter gall of the cart and the collar. Before he had entered\\nhis thirteenth month he had become the property of a hardware-dealer,\",\n \"s. Patrasche was very happy.\\n\\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\n\",\n \", and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\\n\\n[Illustration: child] [Illustration: NELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A\\nSTICK OF CHARCOAL] [Illustration: couple walking]\\n\\nOne day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on\\na pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\\nh\",\n \"orsake thee? I--a dog?\\\" said that mute caress.\\n\\nThe lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close. \\\"Let us lie\\ndown and die together,\\\" he murmured. \\\"Men have no need of us, and we are\\nall alone.\\\"\\n\\nIn answer, Patrasche crept closer yet, and laid his head upon the young\\nboy's breast. The great tears stood in his brown, sad eyes: not for\\nhimself--for himself he was happy.\\n\\nThey lay close together in the piercing cold. The blasts that blew over\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was\",\n \"HEDRAL WERE UNCLOSED AFTER THE MIDNIGHT MASS\\n\\nA DOG OF FLANDERS\\n\\nA STORY OF NÃEL\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nNello and Patrasche were left all alone in the world.\\n\\nThey were friends in a friendship closer than brotherhood. Nello was\\na little Ardennois--Patrasche was a big Fleming. They were both of the\\nsame age by length of years, yet one was still young, and the other was\\nalready old. They had dwelt together almost all their days: both\"\n ],\n [\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \\\"It is too late.\\\"\\n\\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\\n\\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\\nhad taken the\",\n \"s. Patrasche was very happy.\\n\\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\n\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"sons, and in his death\\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\\n\\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.\",\n \"when the grave was closed\\nand the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's\\nhands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound\\nwhere the snow was displaced.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts. But even of that poor,\\nmelancholy, cheerless home they were denied the consolation. There was a\\nmonth's rent over-due for their little home, and when Nello had paid the\\nlast sad service to the dead he had not a\",\n \"would befriend her favorite\\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\\nspinning-wheel; the cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst\\nit all Patrasche was bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry\\nthere a cherished guest. But neither peace nor plenty could allure him\\nwhere Nello was not.\\n\\nWhen the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest\\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\\n\",\n \", he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\\ntambourine-player into her hands. \\\"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\\nAlois. Take it,\\\" he whispered--\\\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\\\"\\n\\nHe slid\",\n \". He thrust it in his\\nshirt, and stroked Patrasche and drew him onward. The dog looked up\\nwistfully in his face.\\n\\nNello made straight for the mill-house, and went to the house-door and\\nstruck on its panels. The miller's wife opened it weeping, with little\\nAlois clinging close to her skirts. \\\"Is it thee, thou poor lad?\\\" she\\nsaid kindly through her tears. \\\"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\\nWe are in sore trouble to-night.\",\n \"ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\\nforever\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\\n\\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis\",\n \"\\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\\n\\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\\npast\",\n \"sports or\\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\\nevery change of mood.\\n\\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\\naccepted he himself should be denied.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nBut he did not complain: it was his\",\n \"had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart\\nwas sick with fear as he went among them, holding Patrasche close to\\nhim. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with\\nbrazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager,\\npanting throng rushed in: it was known that the selected picture would\\nbe raised above the rest upon a wooden d\",\n \"the only light and warmth there could\\nbe found abode beside the village hearths and in the kindly greetings of\\nneighbors. In the winter-time all drew nearer to each other, all to all,\\nexcept to Nello and Patrasche, with whom none now would have anything\\nto do, and who were left to fare as they might with the old paralyzed,\\nbedridden man in the little cabin, whose fire was often low, and whose\\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\\nhad taken to drive his m\",\n \", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\\npeople who dwelt there.\\n\\n\\\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\\\" he said, timidly. \\\"He is old, and he\\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\\nand\"\n ],\n [\n \", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\\n\\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\\nPatrasche.\\n\\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\\neffort, drew the sufferer\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"ost\\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\\\"\\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\\ncollar of gold, and place\",\n \"\\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\\n\\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\\npast\",\n \"ried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all\\nwould he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the\\nstones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch\\nhimself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain,\\nuntil the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and\\nwinding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on\",\n \"follow Nello. A human friend might have paused\\nfor the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that\\nwas not the friendship of Patrasche. He remembered a bygone time, when\\nan old man and a little child had found him sick unto death in the\\nwayside ditch.\\n\\nSnow had fallen freshly all the evening long; it was now nearly ten; the\\ntrail of the boy's footsteps was almost obliterated. It took Patrasche\\nlong to discover any scent. When at last he found it, it\",\n \"\\nsaid kindly through her tears. \\\"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\\nWe are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money\\nthat he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will\\nfind it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own\\njudgment for the things we have done to thee.\\\"\\n\\nNello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the\\nhouse. \\\"Patrasche found the money to-night,\\\" he\",\n \".\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\\\" For no one but Patrasche knew\\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\\n\\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\\ngoose baking for supper\",\n \"together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\\n\\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\\n\\\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\\\" he murmured. \\\"We will not\\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\\\"\\n\\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they\",\n \"feeble from hunger and sorrow.\\n\\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\\nthere stood a little Calvary\",\n \"ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\\n\\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis\",\n \"on the board, and the voices were loudest\\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\\nPatrasche, watching always an occasion, glided out when the door was\\nunlatched by a careless new-comer, and as swiftly as his weak and tired\\nlimbs would bear him sped over the snow in the bitter, black night. He\\nhad only one thought--to follow Nello. A human friend might have paused\\nfor the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that\\nwas\",\n \"warmth and abundance\\neverywhere, and the child would fain have made the dog a guest honored\\nand feasted.\\n\\nBut Patrasche would neither lie in the warmth nor share in the cheer.\\nFamished he was and very cold, but without Nello he would partake\\nneither of comfort nor food. Against all temptation he was proof, and\\nclose against the door he leaned always, watching only for a means of\\nescape.\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the\",\n \"other\\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\\n\\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\\non the edge\",\n \"sports or\\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\\nevery change of mood.\\n\\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\\naccepted he himself should be denied.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nBut he did not complain: it was his\",\n \"s. Patrasche was very happy.\\n\\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\n\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"teeth a small case of\\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\\nthere stood a little Calvary, and a lamp burned dully under the cross:\\nthe boy mechanically turned the case to the light: on it was the name of\\nBaas Cogez, and within it were notes for two thousand francs.\\n\\nThe sight roused the lad a little from his stupor. He thrust it in his\\nshirt, and stroked Patrasche and drew him onward. The dog looked up\\nwistfully in his face\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \", whose fire was often low, and whose\\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\\nhad taken to drive his mule in of a day for the milk of the various\\ndairies, and there were only three or four of the people who had refused\\nhis terms of purchase and remained faithful to the little green cart.\\nSo that the burden which Patrasche drew had become very light, and the\\ncentime-pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.\\n\\nThe dog would stop, as usual, at all the\"\n ],\n [\n \", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\\n\\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\\nPatrasche.\\n\\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\\neffort, drew the sufferer\",\n \"and trod onward\\nwith steady patience.\\n\\n\\\"Rest thee at home, Patrasche--it is time thou didst rest--and I can\\nquite well push in the cart by myself,\\\" urged Nello many a morning; but\\nPatrasche, who understood him aright, would no more have consented\\nto stay at home than a veteran soldier to shirk when the charge was\\nsounding; and every day he would rise and place himself in his shafts,\\nand plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round feet\\nhad left their print upon so many\",\n \"together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\\n\\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\\n\\\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\\\" he murmured. \\\"We will not\\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\\\"\\n\\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they\",\n \"carry it through the darkness to the silent\\ntown. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years,\\nthat were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old\\nage, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would\\nnever give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him\\nand drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he\\nwould ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the\\ntruck as it lumbered along through the ice-\",\n \"his belled harness that\\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\\nwhich had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave,\\ninnocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that\\nJehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no\\nneed to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream\",\n \"Nello and Patrasche\\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings\\nto which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's\\nabsurd suspicion, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the\\npeople were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of\\nthe place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his\\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\\n\\n\\\"Thou art very cruel to\",\n \"other\\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\\n\\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\\non the edge\",\n \"they would all go in together to their meal of\\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\\nthe burgh of Rubens it\",\n \"need to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream and pray\\na little, and then awake again as the clock tolled three and watch for\\ntheir return. And on their return Patrasche would shake himself free of\\nhis harness with a bay of glee, and Nello would recount with pride the\\ndoings of the day; and they would all go in together to their meal of\\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\\ngreat\",\n \", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\\npeople who dwelt there.\\n\\n\\\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\\\" he said, timidly. \\\"He is old, and he\\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\\nand\",\n \"ried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all\\nwould he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the\\nstones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch\\nhimself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain,\\nuntil the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and\\nwinding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on\",\n \"\\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\\n\\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\\npast\",\n \"s. Patrasche was very happy.\\n\\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\n\",\n \"warmth and abundance\\neverywhere, and the child would fain have made the dog a guest honored\\nand feasted.\\n\\nBut Patrasche would neither lie in the warmth nor share in the cheer.\\nFamished he was and very cold, but without Nello he would partake\\nneither of comfort nor food. Against all temptation he was proof, and\\nclose against the door he leaned always, watching only for a means of\\nescape.\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the\",\n \"at home themselves to look after\\ntheir gardens, their cows, their poultry, or their little fields. But it\\nwas becoming hard work for the old man. He was eighty-three, and Antwerp\\nwas a good league off, or more.\\n\\nPatrasche watched the milk-cans come and go that one day when he had got\\nwell and was lying in the sun with the wreath of marguerites round his\\ntawny neck.\\n\\nThe next morning, Patrasche, before the old man had touched the cart,\\narose and walked to\",\n \".\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\\\" For no one but Patrasche knew\\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\\n\\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\\ngoose baking for supper\",\n \"follow Nello. A human friend might have paused\\nfor the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that\\nwas not the friendship of Patrasche. He remembered a bygone time, when\\nan old man and a little child had found him sick unto death in the\\nwayside ditch.\\n\\nSnow had fallen freshly all the evening long; it was now nearly ten; the\\ntrail of the boy's footsteps was almost obliterated. It took Patrasche\\nlong to discover any scent. When at last he found it, it\",\n \"his\\ntawny neck.\\n\\nThe next morning, Patrasche, before the old man had touched the cart,\\narose and walked to it and placed himself betwixt its handles, and\\ntestified as plainly as dumb show could do his desire and his ability\\nto work in return for the bread of charity that he had eaten. Jehan Daas\\nresisted long, for the old man was one of those who thought it a foul\\nshame to bind dogs to labor for which Nature never formed them. But\\nPatrasche would not be gainsaid: finding they did not harness\",\n \", whose fire was often low, and whose\\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\\nhad taken to drive his mule in of a day for the milk of the various\\ndairies, and there were only three or four of the people who had refused\\nhis terms of purchase and remained faithful to the little green cart.\\nSo that the burden which Patrasche drew had become very light, and the\\ncentime-pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.\\n\\nThe dog would stop, as usual, at all the\",\n \"Jehan Daas was old and a cripple, and Nello\\nwas but a child; and Patrasche was their dog.\\n\\n\\n\\nA dog of Flanders--yellow of hide, large of head and limb, with\\nwolf-like ears that stood erect, and legs bowed and feet widened in the\\nmuscular development wrought in his breed by many generations of hard\\nservice. Patrasche came of a race which had toiled hard and cruelly from\\nsire to son in Flanders many a century--slaves of slaves, dogs of the\"\n ],\n [\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\\n\\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\n\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \", he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\\ntambourine-player into her hands. \\\"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\\nAlois. Take it,\\\" he whispered--\\\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\\\"\\n\\nHe slid\",\n \"and sobbed piteously because\\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \\\"It shall be different\\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always\",\n \"of snow\\nupon the dark stone floor. By that slender white thread, frozen as it\\nfell, he was guided through the intense silence, through the immensity\\nof the vaulted space--guided straight to the gates of the chancel, and,\\nstretched there upon the stones, he found Nello. He crept up and touched\\nthe face of the boy. \\\"Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and\\nforsake thee? I--a dog?\\\" said that mute caress.\\n\\nThe lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying\",\n \", and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan\\nDaas's grandson and his dog.\\n\\n[Illustration: child] [Illustration: NELLO DREW THEIR LIKENESS WITH A\\nSTICK OF CHARCOAL] [Illustration: couple walking]\\n\\nOne day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on\\na pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath\\nhad that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the\\nh\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his\\nbest: the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent,\\nunquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel\\namong the willows and the poplar-trees.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nThe winter was very sharp already. That night, after they reached the\\nhut, snow fell; and fell for very many days\",\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"most they could do.\\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\\n\\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\\n\\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\",\n \"wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always, dear little Alois, only\\nlove me always, and I will be great.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And if I do not love you?\\\" the pretty child asked, pouting a little\\nthrough her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex.\\n\\nNello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was\",\n \"upon the two pictures above, from which the boy on his\\nentrance had flung back the veil: the Elevation and the Descent of the\\nCross were for one instant visible.\\n\\nNello rose to his feet and stretched his arms to them; the tears of a\\npassionate ecstasy glistened on the paleness of his face. \\\"I have seen\\nthem at last!\\\" he cried aloud. \\\"O God, it is enough!\\\"\\n\\nHis limbs failed under him, and he sank upon his knees, still gazing\\nupward at the majesty that\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\"\n ],\n [\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this\\ngreat drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year\\nwhich it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent,\\nscholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with\\nsome unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in\\nthe town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"\\nboy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a fallen tree at\\neventide--that was all his theme. But there was greatness for the future\\nin it. I would fain find him, and take him with me and teach him Art.\\\"\\n\\nAnd a little child with curling fair hair, sobbing bitterly as she clung\\nto her father's arm, cried aloud, \\\"Oh, Nello, come! We have all ready\\nfor thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old piper\\nwill play for\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"sports or\\nauditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells\\nof his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their\\nevery change of mood.\\n\\nAll this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney\\nin the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and\\nsometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was\\naccepted he himself should be denied.\\n\\n[Illustration: ]\\n\\nBut he did not complain: it was his\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \"the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\",\n \"ost\\nsee him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world\\nspeaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a\\nbeggar as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog.\\\"\\nAnd he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and\\nportray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of\\nSt. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a\\ncollar of gold, and place\",\n \"most they could do.\\nAnd yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon\\nbeholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.\\n\\n[Illustration: tree] [Illustration: scenery]\\n\\nThe whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an\\nabsorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in\\nthe early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\",\n \"heumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\nyear of age, and knowing the town well from having accompanied his\\ngrandfather so many times, took his place beside the cart, and sold the\\nmilk and received the coins in exchange, and brought them back to their\\nrespective owners with a pretty grace and seriousness which charmed all\\nwho beheld him.\\n\\nThe little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender\\neyes, and a lovely bloom upon\",\n \", he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\\ntambourine-player into her hands. \\\"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\\nAlois. Take it,\\\" he whispered--\\\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\\\"\\n\\nHe slid\",\n \"ello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that\\ncovered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. Patrasche understood, and\\nnestled his nose into the lad's hand, as though to pray him not to be\\ndisquieted for any woe or want of his.\\n\\nThe winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the\\npublic building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On\\nthe steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths--some of\\nhis\",\n \"thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was\",\n \"sons, and in his death\\nshe magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.\\n\\nNow, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of\\nstones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs,\\nthe child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through\\ntheir dark arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the\\npavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm\\nwhich thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion.\",\n \"and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\\n\\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\\\" he said\\nroughly. \\\"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the fire\\nthan any one.\\\"\\n\\nNello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could\\nsay such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could\\npass a jest at such a time.\\n\\nNevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his\\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\\never preferred against the lad,\",\n \"was out in terror, and engines came tearing\\nthrough the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose\\nnothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that\\nthe fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.\\n\\nNello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez\\nthrust him angrily aside. \\\"Thou wert loitering here after dark,\\\" he said\\nroughly. \\\"I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of\",\n \"Nello and Patrasche\\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings\\nto which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's\\nabsurd suspicion, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the\\npeople were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of\\nthe place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his\\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\\n\\n\\\"Thou art very cruel to\",\n \".\\n\\nThe miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it\\nwas so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well.\\nThen he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her\\nmother needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid: then,\\nturning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. \\\"Dost do much of such\\nfolly?\\\" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.\\n\\nNello colored and hung his head. \\\"I draw everything I see,\\\" he murmured\",\n \"the brutal thing openly to many of his\\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\\never preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had been\\nseen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that he\\nbore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little\\nAlois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest\\nlandowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches\\nof Alois in some future\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\",\n \". Nello, in his innocence and his\\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\\n\\n\\\"Thou art very cruel to the lad,\\\" the miller's wife dared to say,\\nweeping, to her lord. \\\"Sure he is an innocent lad and a faithful, and\\nwould never dream of any such wickedness, however sore his heart might\\nbe.\\\"\\n\\nBut Baas Cogez being an obstinate man, having once said a thing held\\nto it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice\\n\",\n \"wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun\\nshining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted\\nby fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the\\ncompensation or the curse which is called Genius.\\n\\nNo one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed\\nPatrasche, who, being with him always, saw\",\n \"\\nashamed and almost afraid. \\\"I have been cruel to the lad,\\\" he muttered\\nat length: \\\"I deserved not to have good at his hands.\\\"\\n\\nLittle Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled\\nagainst him her fair curly head. \\\"Nello may come here again, father?\\\"\\nshe whispered. \\\"He may come to-morrow as he used to do?\\\"\\n\\nThe miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very\\npale and his mouth trembled. \\\"Surely, surely,\\\" he answered\",\n \"the only light and warmth there could\\nbe found abode beside the village hearths and in the kindly greetings of\\nneighbors. In the winter-time all drew nearer to each other, all to all,\\nexcept to Nello and Patrasche, with whom none now would have anything\\nto do, and who were left to fare as they might with the old paralyzed,\\nbedridden man in the little cabin, whose fire was often low, and whose\\nboard was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who\\nhad taken to drive his m\",\n \"and sobbed piteously because\\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \\\"It shall be different\\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always\",\n \"not?\\\" said the old man Daas that night\\nfrom the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.\\n\\nThe boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory\\nhad erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.\\n\\n\\\"And why not there?\\\" his grandfather pursued. \\\"Thou hast never missed a\\nyear before, Nello.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thou art too sick to leave,\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with\",\n \"of snow\\nupon the dark stone floor. By that slender white thread, frozen as it\\nfell, he was guided through the intense silence, through the immensity\\nof the vaulted space--guided straight to the gates of the chancel, and,\\nstretched there upon the stones, he found Nello. He crept up and touched\\nthe face of the boy. \\\"Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and\\nforsake thee? I--a dog?\\\" said that mute caress.\\n\\nThe lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close\",\n \",\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does\\nscores of times. What is the cause, Nello?\\\" the old man persisted. \\\"Thou\\nsurely hast not had ill words with the little one?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, grandfather--never,\\\" said the boy quickly, with a hot color in\\nhis bent face. \\\"Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this\\nyear. He has taken some whim against me.\\\"\\n\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\",\n \"the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked\\nonly a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from\\ndoor to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god.\\nNello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the\\nwinter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments,\\nwas in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the\\nbeautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her\\ngolden hair lying\",\n \"barely knew his letters, could do\\nanything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to\\nlook. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of\\nRubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in\\nits magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile,\\nseemed to him to murmur, \\\"Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart\\nand by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp.\\\"\\n\\nNello ran home through the\",\n \"thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was\",\n \"lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\\ncompanion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive,\\nwas quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of\\nPatrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to\\nthe old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know:\\nhe supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the\\nportrait of Alois in the me\"\n ],\n [\n \"young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \\\"It is too late.\\\"\\n\\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\\n\\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\\nhad taken the\",\n \"\\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\\n\\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\\npast\",\n \", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\\n\\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\\nPatrasche.\\n\\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\\neffort, drew the sufferer\",\n \"s. Patrasche was very happy.\\n\\nFortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken\\nbrawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor\\ndisturbed him in his new and well-loved home.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nA few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became\\nso paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out\\nwith the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth\\n\",\n \"together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\\n\\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\\n\\\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\\\" he murmured. \\\"We will not\\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\\\"\\n\\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they\",\n \"they would all go in together to their meal of\\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\\nthe burgh of Rubens it\",\n \"other\\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\\n\\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\\non the edge\",\n \"ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\\nforever\",\n \"when the grave was closed\\nand the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's\\nhands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound\\nwhere the snow was displaced.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts. But even of that poor,\\nmelancholy, cheerless home they were denied the consolation. There was a\\nmonth's rent over-due for their little home, and when Nello had paid the\\nlast sad service to the dead he had not a\",\n \"feeble from hunger and sorrow.\\n\\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\\nthere stood a little Calvary\",\n \", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\\npeople who dwelt there.\\n\\n\\\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\\\" he said, timidly. \\\"He is old, and he\\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\\nand\",\n \"\\nsaid kindly through her tears. \\\"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\\nWe are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money\\nthat he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will\\nfind it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own\\njudgment for the things we have done to thee.\\\"\\n\\nNello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the\\nhouse. \\\"Patrasche found the money to-night,\\\" he\",\n \"ried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all\\nwould he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the\\nstones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch\\nhimself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain,\\nuntil the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and\\nwinding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on\",\n \".\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\\\" For no one but Patrasche knew\\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\\n\\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\\ngoose baking for supper\",\n \"oly clock almost from their birth\\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\\non the edge of the village, with the cathedral spire of Antwerp rising\\nin the north-east, beyond the great green plain of seeding grass and\\nspreading corn that stretched away from them like a tideless, changeless\\nsea. It was the hut of a very old man, of a very poor man--of old Jehan\\nDaas, who in his time had been a soldier, and who remembered the wars\\nthat had trampled the\",\n \"carry it through the darkness to the silent\\ntown. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years,\\nthat were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old\\nage, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would\\nnever give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him\\nand drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he\\nwould ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the\\ntruck as it lumbered along through the ice-\",\n \"and place himself in his shafts,\\nand plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round feet\\nhad left their print upon so many, many years.\\n\\n\\\"One must never rest till one dies,\\\" thought Patrasche; and sometimes it\\nseemed to him that that time of rest for him was not very far off. His\\nsight was less clear than it had been, and it gave him pain to rise\\nafter the night's sleep, though he would never lie a moment in his straw\\nwhen once the bell of the chapel tolling five let him know that the\\n\",\n \"clamations to his home upon the quay.\\n\\nThe boy staggered to his feet and drew the dog into his embrace. \\\"It is\\nall over, dear Patrasche,\\\" he murmured--\\\"all over!\\\"\\n\\nHe rallied himself as best he could, for he was weak from fasting, and\\nretraced his steps to the village. Patrasche paced by his side with his\\nhead drooping and his old limbs feeble from hunger and sorrow.\\n\\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\\nwas bitter as death on\",\n \"udged to Stephen Kiesslinger, born in the burgh of Antwerp,\\nson of a wharfinger in that town.\\n\\nWhen Nello recovered his consciousness he was lying on the stones\\nwithout, and Patrasche was trying with every art he knew to call him\\nback to life. In the distance a throng of the youths of Antwerp were\\nshouting around their successful comrade, and escorting him with\\nacclamations to his home upon the quay.\\n\\nThe boy staggered to his feet and drew the dog into his embrace. \\\"It is\\nall\",\n \"at home themselves to look after\\ntheir gardens, their cows, their poultry, or their little fields. But it\\nwas becoming hard work for the old man. He was eighty-three, and Antwerp\\nwas a good league off, or more.\\n\\nPatrasche watched the milk-cans come and go that one day when he had got\\nwell and was lying in the sun with the wreath of marguerites round his\\ntawny neck.\\n\\nThe next morning, Patrasche, before the old man had touched the cart,\\narose and walked to\"\n ],\n [\n \"ried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all\\nwould he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the\\nstones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch\\nhimself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain,\\nuntil the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and\\nwinding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on\",\n \"other\\nreligious service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the\\nlittle old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite\\nto it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that\\nstrange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low\\nCountries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.\\n\\nWithin sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth\\nupward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut\\non the edge\",\n \"master into trouble, he\\ndesisted, and remained couched patiently before the churches until such\\ntime as the boy reappeared. It was not the fact of his going into them\\nwhich disturbed Patrasche: he knew that people went to church: all\\nthe village went to the small, tumbledown, gray pile opposite the red\\nwindmill.\\n\\nWhat troubled him was that little Nello always looked strangely when\\nhe came out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay\",\n \"ilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on\\nthe horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and\\nsmoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing\\nmaidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and\\nfrom the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week\\nbefore the Christmas Day, Death entered there, and took away from life\\nforever\",\n \"together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were\\ninsensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.\\n\\nWhen the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning\\nof Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only\\nfriend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead.\\n\\\"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche,\\\" he murmured. \\\"We will not\\nwait to be kicked out: let us go.\\\"\\n\\nPatrasche had no will but his, and they\",\n \"they would all go in together to their meal of\\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\\ngreat plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and\\nthen lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a\\nprayer. So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and\\nPatrasche were happy, innocent, and healthful. In the spring and summer\\nespecially were they glad. Flanders is not a lovely land, and around\\nthe burgh of Rubens it\",\n \"need to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream and pray\\na little, and then awake again as the clock tolled three and watch for\\ntheir return. And on their return Patrasche would shake himself free of\\nhis harness with a bay of glee, and Nello would recount with pride the\\ndoings of the day; and they would all go in together to their meal of\\nrye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the\\ngreat\",\n \", and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There\\nwas with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years\\nold, who pattered in amidst the bushes, for him breast-high, and stood\\ngazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet beast.\\n\\nThus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big\\nPatrasche.\\n\\nThe upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious\\neffort, drew the sufferer\",\n \", most of the shutters were still closed, but some of\\nthe villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy\\npassed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within:\\nhis grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the\\npeople who dwelt there.\\n\\n\\\"Would you give Patrasche a crust?\\\" he said, timidly. \\\"He is old, and he\\nhas had nothing since last forenoon.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat\\nand\",\n \"\\ntrace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle\\nwere housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced\\nand feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and\\nfamished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a\\ngreat love to sustain him in his search.\\n\\nThe trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new\\nsnow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was\\npast\",\n \"eyes.\\n\\nOne day, when the custodian was out of the way and the doors left ajar,\\nhe got in for a moment after his little friend and saw. \\\"They\\\" were two\\ngreat covered pictures on either side of the choir.\\n\\nNello was kneeling, rapt as in an ecstasy, before the altar-picture of\\nthe Assumption, and when he noticed Patrasche, and rose and drew the dog\\ngently out into the air, his face was wet with tears, and he looked up\\nat the veiled places as he passed\",\n \"out, always very flushed or very pale; and whenever he returned\\nhome after such visitations would sit silent and dreaming, not caring to\\nplay, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond the line of the canal,\\nvery subdued and almost sad.\\n\\nWhat was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or\\nnatural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he\\ntried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the\\nbusy market-place. But to the churches Nello would\",\n \"young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens\\nwith a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, \\\"It is too late.\\\"\\n\\nFor the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the\\nsunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and\\nglad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity\\nat their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.\\n\\nDeath had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It\\nhad taken the\",\n \".\\n\\n\\\"He wants the lad,\\\" said Baas Cogez. \\\"Good dog! good dog! I will go over\\nto the lad the first thing at day-dawn.\\\" For no one but Patrasche knew\\nthat Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello\\nhad gone to face starvation and misery alone.\\n\\nThe mill-kitchen was very warm: great logs crackled and flamed on the\\nhearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat\\ngoose baking for supper\",\n \". He kept\\non his way, a poor gaunt, shivering thing, and by long patience traced\\nthe steps he loved into the very heart of the burgh and up to the steps\\nof the great cathedral.\\n\\n\\\"He is gone to the things that he loved,\\\" thought Patrasche: he\\ncould not understand, but he was full of sorrow and of pity for the\\nart-passion that to him was so incomprehensible and yet so sacred.\\n\\nThe portals of the cathedral were unclosed after the midnight mass. Some\\nheedlessness in the\",\n \"his belled harness that\\nchimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him\\nwhich had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave,\\ninnocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.\\n\\nNello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that\\nJehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no\\nneed to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them\\ngo forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream\",\n \"and trod onward\\nwith steady patience.\\n\\n\\\"Rest thee at home, Patrasche--it is time thou didst rest--and I can\\nquite well push in the cart by myself,\\\" urged Nello many a morning; but\\nPatrasche, who understood him aright, would no more have consented\\nto stay at home than a veteran soldier to shirk when the charge was\\nsounding; and every day he would rise and place himself in his shafts,\\nand plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round feet\\nhad left their print upon so many\",\n \"feeble from hunger and sorrow.\\n\\nThe snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it\\nwas bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the\\nfamiliar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they\\napproached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in\\nthe snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of\\nbrown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were\\nthere stood a little Calvary\",\n \"carry it through the darkness to the silent\\ntown. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years,\\nthat were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old\\nage, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would\\nnever give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him\\nand drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he\\nwould ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the\\ntruck as it lumbered along through the ice-\",\n \"\\nsaid kindly through her tears. \\\"Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee.\\nWe are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money\\nthat he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will\\nfind it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own\\njudgment for the things we have done to thee.\\\"\\n\\nNello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the\\nhouse. \\\"Patrasche found the money to-night,\\\" he\"\n ],\n [\n \"and sobbed piteously because\\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\\nlife her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in\\nthe great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello\\nhad kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, \\\"It shall be different\\none day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always\",\n \"wood that your father\\nhas of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut\\nthe door against me then. Only love me always, dear little Alois, only\\nlove me always, and I will be great.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And if I do not love you?\\\" the pretty child asked, pouting a little\\nthrough her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex.\\n\\nNello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was\",\n \"and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages\\nwhen Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It\\nwas a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought\\nthat it was just the thing to please Alois.\\n\\nIt was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little\\nwindow of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\n\",\n \", he thought, if he gave her his\\nlittle piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There\\nwas a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and\\ntapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The\\nchild opened it and looked out half frightened. Nello put the\\ntambourine-player into her hands. \\\"Here is a doll I found in the snow,\\nAlois. Take it,\\\" he whispered--\\\"take it, and God bless thee, dear!\\\"\\n\\nHe slid\",\n \"lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But\\nthere were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen\\ncompanion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive,\\nwas quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of\\nPatrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to\\nthe old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know:\\nhe supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the\\nportrait of Alois in the me\",\n \"\\nashamed and almost afraid. \\\"I have been cruel to the lad,\\\" he muttered\\nat length: \\\"I deserved not to have good at his hands.\\\"\\n\\nLittle Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled\\nagainst him her fair curly head. \\\"Nello may come here again, father?\\\"\\nshe whispered. \\\"He may come to-morrow as he used to do?\\\"\\n\\nThe miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very\\npale and his mouth trembled. \\\"Surely, surely,\\\" he answered\",\n \"would befriend her favorite\\ncompanion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the\\nspinning-wheel; the cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst\\nit all Patrasche was bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry\\nthere a cherished guest. But neither peace nor plenty could allure him\\nwhere Nello was not.\\n\\nWhen the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest\\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\\n\",\n \"avelot, and had left him in legacy her\\ntwo-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself,\\nbut he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon\\nbecame welcome and precious to him. Little Nello---which was but a pet\\ndiminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little\\nchild lived in the poor little hut contentedly.\\n\\nIt was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white\\nas a sea-shell, and stood\",\n \",\\\" murmured the lad, bending his handsome\\nhead over the bed.\\n\\n\\\"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does\\nscores of times. What is the cause, Nello?\\\" the old man persisted. \\\"Thou\\nsurely hast not had ill words with the little one?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, grandfather--never,\\\" said the boy quickly, with a hot color in\\nhis bent face. \\\"Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this\\nyear. He has taken some whim against me.\\\"\\n\",\n \"the brutal thing openly to many of his\\nneighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was\\never preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had been\\nseen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that he\\nbore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little\\nAlois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest\\nlandowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches\\nof Alois in some future\",\n \"He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the\\ncorner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of\\nthe world were like.\\n\\nHe drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture.\\n\\\"Thou art very poor, my child,\\\" he said with a quiver the more in his\\naged, trembling voice--\\\"so poor! It is very hard for thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperish\",\n \"called a Madonna, on the walls of the\\nwine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as\\nany of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far\\nand wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.\\n\\nThere was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at\\nall of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at\\nthe old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was\\n\",\n \"left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the\\nred and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was a\\nsmile on his face so sweet and yet so sad that little Alois was awed by\\nit. \\\"I will be great still,\\\" he said under his breath--\\\"great still, or\\ndie, Alois.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You do not love me,\\\" said the little spoilt child, pushing him away;\\nbut the boy shook his head and smiled, and went on his way through the\\ntall yellow corn, seeing as\",\n \"a certain vague, sweet hope, such as\\nbeguiles the children of genius, had whispered in his heart, \\\"Yet the\\npoor do choose sometimes--choose to be great, so that men cannot say\\nthem nay.\\\" And he thought so still in his innocence; and one day, when\\nthe little Alois, finding him by chance alone among the cornfields by\\nthe canal, ran to him and held him close, and sobbed piteously because\\nthe morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her\\nlife her parents\",\n \"sayings of its richest\\nlandowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches\\nof Alois in some future time for their sons, took the hint to give grave\\nlooks and cold words to old Jehan Daas's grandson. No one said anything\\nto him openly, but all the village agreed together to humor the miller's\\nprejudice, and at the cottages and farms where Nello and Patrasche\\ncalled every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and\\nbrief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and\",\n \"on the board, and the voices were loudest\\nand gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois,\\nPatrasche, watching always an occasion, glided out when the door was\\nunlatched by a careless new-comer, and as swiftly as his weak and tired\\nlimbs would bear him sped over the snow in the bitter, black night. He\\nhad only one thought--to follow Nello. A human friend might have paused\\nfor the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that\\nwas\",\n \"the victor according\\nto his merits.\\n\\nAll the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this\\ntreasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward\\nindependence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly,\\nand yet passionately adored.\\n\\nHe said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood,\\nand little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and\\nwhispered, \\\"Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew\",\n \"thee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay, I am rich,\\\" murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought\\nso--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might\\nof kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet\\nautumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars\\nbend and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were\\nlighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The\\ntears fell down his cheeks, for he was\",\n \". Nello, in his innocence and his\\nfriendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.\\n\\n\\\"Thou art very cruel to the lad,\\\" the miller's wife dared to say,\\nweeping, to her lord. \\\"Sure he is an innocent lad and a faithful, and\\nwould never dream of any such wickedness, however sore his heart might\\nbe.\\\"\\n\\nBut Baas Cogez being an obstinate man, having once said a thing held\\nto it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice\\n\",\n \"s hand.\\n\\nIn his sickness they too had grown to care for him, this lonely man and\\nthe little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of\\ndry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his\\nbreathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he\\nfirst was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed\\naloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure\\nrestoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["At what age does Nello become an orphan?","What do Nello & Jehann name the dog which thy find almost beaten to death?","In what job does Nello help his grandfather?","With whom does Nello fall in love with?","Although uneducated, what talent does Nello possess?","Who accuses Nello of starting a fire?","Which church does Nello want to visit in the city of Antwerp?","How do Nello and Patrasche die?","What was the amount of the first prize for the junior drawing contest?","What job does Nello take on in order to help his grandfather?","Why does Nicholas not approve of Nello as a sweetheart for his daughter?","Where are Nello and Patrasche found on Christmas Morning?","In what time period does this story take place?","Why does Nello go to live with his grandfather?","Who accuses Nello of setting a fire to their property?","What was the prize for the drawing contest that Nello enters?","In what condition did Nello and his grandfather find their pet dog?","Who does Nello fall in love with?","What is Nello's talent?","Who becomes an orphan at the age of two? ","Who takes in Nello after his mother dies? ","What does Nello name the dog he found? ","What does Patrasche help Nello do every morning? ","Who does Nello fall in love with? ","What is Nello very talented in? ","Who accuses Nello of starting a fire? ","Where do Nello and Patrasche die? ","When do Nello and Patrasche go into the church? ","Why does Nicholas reject Nello's love for Aloise? "],"string":"[\n \"At what age does Nello become an orphan?\",\n \"What do Nello & Jehann name the dog which thy find almost beaten to death?\",\n \"In what job does Nello help his grandfather?\",\n \"With whom does Nello fall in love with?\",\n \"Although uneducated, what talent does Nello possess?\",\n \"Who accuses Nello of starting a fire?\",\n \"Which church does Nello want to visit in the city of Antwerp?\",\n \"How do Nello and Patrasche die?\",\n \"What was the amount of the first prize for the junior drawing contest?\",\n \"What job does Nello take on in order to help his grandfather?\",\n \"Why does Nicholas not approve of Nello as a sweetheart for his daughter?\",\n \"Where are Nello and Patrasche found on Christmas Morning?\",\n \"In what time period does this story take place?\",\n \"Why does Nello go to live with his grandfather?\",\n \"Who accuses Nello of setting a fire to their property?\",\n \"What was the prize for the drawing contest that Nello enters?\",\n \"In what condition did Nello and his grandfather find their pet dog?\",\n \"Who does Nello fall in love with?\",\n \"What is Nello's talent?\",\n \"Who becomes an orphan at the age of two? \",\n \"Who takes in Nello after his mother dies? \",\n \"What does Nello name the dog he found? \",\n \"What does Patrasche help Nello do every morning? \",\n \"Who does Nello fall in love with? \",\n \"What is Nello very talented in? \",\n \"Who accuses Nello of starting a fire? \",\n \"Where do Nello and Patrasche die? \",\n \"When do Nello and Patrasche go into the church? \",\n \"Why does Nicholas reject Nello's love for Aloise? \"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["At the age of 2","Two"],["Patrasche","Patrasche"],["Selling milk","Selling milk"],["Aloise","Aloise."],["Drawing","Drawing skills"],["Nicholas Cogez","Nicholas."],["Cathedral of Antwerp","The Cathedral of Antwerp"],["They freeze to death in front of the triptych at the Cathedral of Antwerp","They froze to death"],["200 francs","200 francs per year."],["Selling milk","He sells milk"],["Nello is poor","He is poor"],["At the Cathedral of Antwerp, in front of the Triptych","In front of the triptych."],["This story takes place in the 19th Century","19th century "],["His parents die, leaving him an orphan.","His mother died when he was 2."],["Nicholas, Aloise's father.","Nicholas."],["200 francs per year","200 francs per year"],["Starving, beaten and dying","Almost beaten to death"],["Aloise","Aloise."],["He is talented at drawing","Drawing."],["Nello","Nello"],["His grandfather, Jehann Daas","His grandfather"],["Patrasche","Patrasche"],["Pull the cart of milk into town","Pull his cart into town"],["Aloise","Aloise"],["Drawing","Drawing."],["Nicholas Cogez","Nicholas"],["Inside the Cathedral of Antwerp","Inside the church."],["On Christmas Eve","Christmas Eve"],["He doesn't want his daughter to have a poor suitor","Nello is too poor."]],"string":"[\n [\n \"At the age of 2\",\n \"Two\"\n ],\n [\n \"Patrasche\",\n \"Patrasche\"\n ],\n [\n \"Selling milk\",\n \"Selling milk\"\n ],\n [\n \"Aloise\",\n \"Aloise.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Drawing\",\n \"Drawing skills\"\n ],\n [\n \"Nicholas Cogez\",\n \"Nicholas.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Cathedral of Antwerp\",\n \"The Cathedral of Antwerp\"\n ],\n [\n \"They freeze to death in front of the triptych at the Cathedral of Antwerp\",\n \"They froze to death\"\n ],\n [\n \"200 francs\",\n \"200 francs per year.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Selling milk\",\n \"He sells milk\"\n ],\n [\n \"Nello is poor\",\n \"He is poor\"\n ],\n [\n \"At the Cathedral of Antwerp, in front of the Triptych\",\n \"In front of the triptych.\"\n ],\n [\n \"This story takes place in the 19th Century\",\n \"19th century \"\n ],\n [\n \"His parents die, leaving him an orphan.\",\n \"His mother died when he was 2.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Nicholas, Aloise's father.\",\n \"Nicholas.\"\n ],\n [\n \"200 francs per year\",\n \"200 francs per year\"\n ],\n [\n \"Starving, beaten and dying\",\n \"Almost beaten to death\"\n ],\n [\n \"Aloise\",\n \"Aloise.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He is talented at drawing\",\n \"Drawing.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Nello\",\n \"Nello\"\n ],\n [\n \"His grandfather, Jehann Daas\",\n \"His grandfather\"\n ],\n [\n \"Patrasche\",\n \"Patrasche\"\n ],\n [\n \"Pull the cart of milk into town\",\n \"Pull his cart into town\"\n ],\n [\n \"Aloise\",\n \"Aloise\"\n ],\n [\n \"Drawing\",\n \"Drawing.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Nicholas Cogez\",\n \"Nicholas\"\n ],\n [\n \"Inside the Cathedral of Antwerp\",\n \"Inside the church.\"\n ],\n [\n \"On Christmas Eve\",\n \"Christmas Eve\"\n ],\n [\n \"He doesn't want his daughter to have a poor suitor\",\n \"Nello is too poor.\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"c02520de408977fcaac9839676ade39fa6ee95db"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":28,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\n\n\"Next Monday,\" he said slowly--\"next Monday morning you will\ngo to boarding school. Est","-wife, but she would not hear of it.\n\nAt first they had tried living in the barracks, but after a time\nevery one in the officers' quarters rose in revolt at the pranks\nof those graceless children, so Captain Woolcot took a house some\ndistance up the Parramatta River, and in considerable bitterness\nof spirit removed his family there.\n\nThey liked the change immensely; for there was a big wilderness\nof a garden, two or three paddocks, numberless sheds for\nhide-and-seek, and","that her father could\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\na chickenhearted baby.\n\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\nhe was doing all this to","obstinately\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days; and she had\npretended to everyone, and her father, that she especially thought\nboarding school must be great fun, and that she should enjoy it\nimmensely.\n\nBut this morning she had collapsed altogether. All the time before,\nher hot childish heart had been telling her that her father could\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled","and much from home. He did not understand children at all, and was\nalways grumbling at the noise they made, and the money they cost.\nStill, I think he was rather proud of Pip, and sometimes, if Nellie\nwere prettily dressed, he would take her out with him in his dogcart.\n\nHe had offered to send the six of them to boarding school when he\nbrought home his young girl-wife, but she would not hear of it.\n\nAt first they had tried living in the barracks, but after a time\nevery one","should get them. And Marian's mother asked for me to go there,\ntoo, for a fortnight; and so Miss Burton wrote and asked Father could I?\nand I wrote and asked couldn't I come home instead for the time?\"\n\n\"He never told us,\" Meg said softly.\n\n\"No, I s'pose not. Well, he wrote back and said 'no' to me and\n'yes' to her. So one day they put us in the train safely, and\nwe were to be met at Katoomba. And the thought jumped","itude of his study\nbefore he could decide how he could best \"take care of her.\"\n\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and the governess to\nthe mountains for a time, but then there was the difficulty about\nlessons for the other three. He might send them to school, or\nengage a governess certainly, but then again there was expense to be\nconsidered.\n\nIt was out of the question for the girls to go alone, for Meg had\nshown herself nothing but a silly little goose, in spite of her\nsixteen years; and","\"Oh, Jack!\" Esther said reproachfully.\n\n\"Oblige me by not interfering,\" he said; \"allow me a little\nliberty with my own children, Esther. He is an untruthful little\nvagabond; I am ashamed to own him for my son.\"\n\nAnd Esther, reflecting on the many shiftinesses of her stepson, was\nable to console herself with the hope that it would do him good.\n\nThey went a shortcut through the bush to avoid the public road, and\nthe blue,","best to beg you off, but it\nonly makes him more vexed. He says you are the untidiest, most\nunruly lot of children in Sydney, and he will punish you each time\nyou do anything, and--\"\n\n\"There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.\"\n\n\"Oh, shut up, Judy! Can't you let us hear?\" Pip put his hand\nover her mouth and held her by the hair while Esther told the\nnews.\n\n\"None of you are to go to the pantomime.","\"No, Father.\"\n\nHe moved toward the opening. \"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\nwill come straight back with me this moment,\" he said, in an even\nvoice. \"I shall take precautions to have you watched at school since\nyou cannot be trusted. You will not return home for the Christmas\nholidays, and probably not for those of the following June.\"\n\nIt was as bad as a sentence of death. The room swam before the girl's\neyes, there was a singing and rushing in her ears.\n\n\"","very night,\nand walk to Melbourne, or Jerusalem, and never see any of you again!\nHow can you, Meg! After I've done all this just so he wouldn't know!\nOh, how CAN you?\"\n\nShe was working herself up into a strong state of excitement.\n\n\"Why, I should be simply packed back again tomorrow--you know I\nwould, Meg. Shouldn't I now, Pip? And get into a fearful row at\nschool into the bargain. My plan is beautifully simple. After\nI've had","Button. And then the train stopped at Blackheath, and\nI jumped straight out, and she went on to Katoomba, and I came home.\nThat's all. Only, you see, as I'd lost my money there was nothing left\nfor it but to walk.\"\n\nMeg smoothed the dusty, tangled confusion of her hair.\n\n\"But you can't live out here for the week,\" she said, in a troubled\nvoice. \"You've got a horrid cough with sleeping outside, and I'm\nsure","for the girls to go alone, for Meg had\nshown herself nothing but a silly little goose, in spite of her\nsixteen years; and Judy needed attention. Then he remembered\nEsther, too, was, looking unwell; the nursing and the General\ntogether had been too much for her, and she looked quite a shadow of\nher bright self. He knew he really ought to send her, too, and the\nchild, of course.\n\nAnd again the expense.\n\nHe remembered the Christmas holidays were not very far away; what\nwould become of the house","her. So one day they put us in the train safely, and\nwe were to be met at Katoomba. And the thought jumped into my head\nas we went along: Why ever shouldn't I come home on the quiet? So\nI told Marian she could explain to her people I had gone home instead,\nand that she was to be sure to make it seem all right, so they wouldn't\nwrite to Miss Button. And then the train stopped at Blackheath, and\nI jumped straight out, and she went on to Katoomba, and I","made that all safe,\" Judy said, with a smile of\nrecollective pleasure. \"Marian's my chum, you see, and does anything\nI tell her. And she lives at Katoomba.\"\n\n\"Well?\" said Meg, mystified, as her sister paused. \"Well, you see,\na lot of the girls had the measles, and so they sent Marian home, for\nfear she should get them. And Marian's mother asked for me to go there,\ntoo, for a fortnight; and so Miss Burton wrote and","for there was a big wilderness\nof a garden, two or three paddocks, numberless sheds for\nhide-and-seek, and, best of all, the water. Their father kept\nthree beautiful horses, one at he barracks and a hunter and a\ngood hack at Misrule; so, to make up, the children--not that they\ncared in the slightest--went about in shabby, out-at-elbow clothes,\nand much-worn boots. They were taught--all but Pip, who went to\nthe grammar","the unhappy child.\n\nTwo, three, four, five angry cuts from the riding-whip in the\nCaptain's hands, and Bunty had ducked under his arm and fled howling\ndown the passage and out of the back door.\n\nAway across the paddocks he went, sobbing at every step, but hugely\ncommending himself for bearing all this for someone else's sake.\n\nHe could hardly have believed, had anyone told him previously, that\nhe could have done anything so absolutely noble, and the thought\ncomforted him even while the cuts and sc",". She jumped the General up and down on\nher knee.\n\n\"Little Boy Blue, Mum fell off that gate when she was three,\" said she,\nlooking at it affectionately as Pip swung it open.\n\nSplash through the rain again; the wheels went softly now, for the\nway was covered with wet fallen leaves.\n\n\"Oh, where IS the house?\" Bunty said, peeping through Pip's arm\non the box seat, and seeing still nothing but an endless vista of\ngum trees. \"I thought, you said we were there,","there were labels on them that said: \"Miss Helen\nWoolcot, The Misses Burton, Mount Victoria.\"\n\nIn the nursery breakfast was proceeding spasmodically. Meg's\nblue eyes were all red and swollen with crying, and she was still\nsniffing audibly as she poured out the coffee. Pip had his hands\nin his pockets and stood on the hearthrug, looking gloomily at a\ncertain plate, and refusing breakfast altogether; the General was\ncrashing his own mug and plate joyously together; and Bun","week,\" she said, in a troubled\nvoice. \"You've got a horrid cough with sleeping outside, and I'm\nsure you're ill. We shall have to tell Father about it. I'll beg him\nnot to send you back, though.\"\n\nJudy started up, her eyes aflame.\n\n\"If you do,\" she said--\"if you do, I will run away this very night,\nand walk to Melbourne, or Jerusalem, and never see any of you again!\nHow can you, Meg! After I've"],["tained with a waist twenty-three inches round.\"\n\nAldith had not only made statements and comparisons, she had given\nher friend practical advice, and shown her how the thing was to be\ndone. And every night and morning Meg pulled away ruthlessly\nat her corset laces, and crushed her beautiful little body into\nnarrower space. She had already brought it within a girdle of\ntwenty-one inches, which was a clear saving of two, and she had\ntaken in all her dresses at the seams.\n\nBut she gave up","friend Meg, pronouncing that\nname to be \"too domestic and altogether unlovely.\"\n\nMeg glanced from her own waist to her friend's slender, beautiful\none, and sighed profoundly. \"What ought I to be?\" she said in a\nlow tone; and Aldith had answered, \"Eighteen--or nineteen,\nMarguerite, at the most; true symmetrical grace can never be\nobtained with a waist twenty-three inches round.\"\n\nAldith had not only made statements and comparisons, she had given\nher friend practical","mustn't leave\nit off, of course, but you don't feel it at all after a bit.\"\n\nWith which assurance Meg pursued her painful course.\n\nEsther, the only person in a position to exercise any authority\nin the matter, had not noticed at all, and, indeed, had she done,\nso would not have thought very gravely of it, for it was only\nfour years since she, too, had been sixteen, and a \"waist\" had\nbeen the most desirable thing on earth.\n\nOnce she had said unwittingly,","had been sixteen, and a \"waist\" had\nbeen the most desirable thing on earth.\n\nOnce she had said unwittingly,\n\n\"What a nice little figure you are getting, Meg; this new\ndressmaker certainly fits better than Miss Quinn\"; and foolish\nMeg, with a throb of delight, had redoubled her efforts.\n\nLynx-eyed Judy would have found her out long ago, and laughed her\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\nabs","going\nto die, too, and if so would she be able to tell the same little\nwife that Esther received more tenderness at his hands than she\nhad done.\n\nHis reverie was interrupted by the doctor's sharp, surprised\nvoice. He was talking to Esther, who had been hastily summoned to\nthe scene, and who had helped to unfasten the pretty bodice.\n\n\"Why, the child is tight-laced!\" he said; \"surely you must\nhave noticed it, madam. That pressure, if it has been constant,","is tight-laced!\" he said; \"surely you must\nhave noticed it, madam. That pressure, if it has been constant,\nhas been enough to half kill her. Chut, chut! faint indeed--I wonder\nshe has not taken fits or gone into a decline before this.\"\n\nThen a cloud of trouble came over Esther's beautiful face--she had\nfailed again in her duty. Her husband was regarding her almost\ngloomily from the sofa, where the little figure lay in its\ncrumpled muslin dress, and her heart told her","elt-fitting dress body. To walk quickly was positive pain; to\nstoop, almost agony; but she endured it all with a heroism\nworthy of a truly noble cause.\n\n\"How long shall I have to go on like this, Aldith?\" she asked\nonce faintly, after a French lesson that she had scarcely been\nable to sit through.\n\nAnd the older girl answered carelessly, \"Oh, you mustn't leave\nit off, of course, but you don't feel it at all after a bit.\"\n\nWith which assurance Meg","inches, which was a clear saving of two, and she had\ntaken in all her dresses at the seams.\n\nBut she gave up the evening game of cricket, and she never made one\nat rounders now, much to the others' disgust. No one, to look at\nthe sweet blossom-like face, and soft, calm eyes, could have\nguessed what torture was being felt beneath the now pretty,\nwelt-fitting dress body. To walk quickly was positive pain; to\nstoop, almost agony; but she endured it all with a","ices to hide the join. This\ndropped the skirts a good two inches, and made her look quite a\ntall, slim figure, as she was well aware.\n\nAnd none of these things were very harmful.\n\nBut Aldith gradually grew dissatisfied with her waist.\n\n\"You're at least twenty-three, Marguerite,\" she said once, quite in\na horrified way. She never called her friend Meg, pronouncing that\nname to be \"too domestic and altogether unlovely.\"\n\nMeg glanced from her own waist to her friend","was quite florid-looking at times. Now a heroine\nmay have the largest, deepest, and most heavily lashed eyes\nimaginable; she may have hair in very truth like the gold \"mown\nfrom a harvest's middle floor\"; she may have lips like cherries\nand teeth like pearls, and a red nose will be so utterly fatal\nthat all these other charms will pass unnoticed. It cost Meg real\nanguish of spirit. She carefully read all the Answers to Correspondents\nin the various papers Aldith lent her in search of","or little Meg! She was very miserable in these days, and yet it\nwas a kind of exquisite misery that she hugged to her to keep it\nwarm. No one guessed her secret. She would have died rather than\nallow even Aldith to get a suspicion of it, and accepted Andrew's\nnotes and smiles as if there was nothing more she wanted. But she\ngrew a trifle thin and large-eyed, and used to make copious notes\nin her diary every night, and to write a truly appalling quantity\nof verses, in which","ences a friendship sprang up.\n\nAldith had three grown-up sisters, whom she aped in everything,\nand was considerably wiser in the world than simple-minded,\nromantic Meg.\n\nShe lent Meg novels, \"Family Herald Supplements\", \"Young Ladies'\nJournals\", and such publications, and the young girl took to them\nwith avidity, surprised at the new world into which they took her;\nfor Charlotte Yonge and Louisa Alcott and Miss Wetherall had hitherto\nformed her simple and wholesome fare.","and laughed her\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\nabsence.\n\nAldith only lived about twenty minutes' walk from Misrule, so\nthe two girls were always together. Twice a week they went down\nto town in the river-boat to learn how to inquire, in polite\nFrench, \"Has the baker's young daughter the yellow hat, brown\ngloves, and umbrella of the undertaker's niece?\" And twice a\nweek, after they had","the\nteasing.\n\nNowadays Meg spent a great deal of time in her bedroom, that she\nhad all to herself while Judy was away. In its privacy she\ntrimmed and retrimmed her hats, altered her dresses, read her\nnovels, and sat in front of the looking-glass with her hair down,\ndreaming of being quite grown up and in love. For just now both\nto Aldith, and herself that state of life seemed the only one\naltogether lovely and desirable. Meg used to curl herself up in a\nbig easy-","took her;\nfor Charlotte Yonge and Louisa Alcott and Miss Wetherall had hitherto\nformed her simple and wholesome fare.\n\nMeg began to dream rose-coloured dreams of the time when her fair,\nshining hair should be gathered up into \"a simple knot at the back\nof her head\" or \"brushed into a regal coronet,\" these being the\nstyles in which the heroines in the novels invariably dressed\ntheir hair. A pigtail done in three was very unromantic. That\nwas why, as a","and look at your own stepmother. Plenty of girls\nare actually married at sixteen, Marguerite, and a man proposed\nmy sister Beatrice when she was only fifteen.\" Meg looked\nimpressed and thoughtful.\n\nThen Aldith rose to go. \"Mind you're in time for the boat\nto-morrow,\" she said, as they reached the gate; \"and, Marguerite,\nbe sure you make yourself look very nice--wear your cornflower\ndress, and see if Mrs. Woolcot will lend you a pair of her","suggest improvements as he went along.\n\nMeg, who had almost severed her connection with Aldith, devoted\nherself to her sister, and waited on her hand and foot; she made her\nall kinds of little presents--a boot-bag, with compartments; a\nbrush-and-comb bag, with the monogram \"J.W.,\" worked in pink silk;\na little work-basket, with needle-book, pin-cushion, and all complete.\nJudy feared she should be compelled to betake herself to tidy habits\non","Meg said, fired in a moment. \"Like Guy Deloraine\nin 'Angelina's Ambition'.\" Aldith put her arm more tightly round\nher friend.\n\n\"Wouldn't it be HEAVENLY, Marguerite, to be engaged--you and I?\"\nshe said, in a tone of dreamy rapture. \"To have a dark,\nhandsome man with proud black eyes just dying with love for you,\ngoing down on his knees, and giving you presents, and taking you\nout and all--oh, Marguerite,","I'll get taken off,\" Miss Aldith would say as they started; and\nby the end of the time Meg would say longingly, \"How lovely it must\nbe to know crowds of gentlemen like you do.\"\n\nSometimes one or two of them would stop and exchange a word or two,\nand then Aldith would formally introduce Meg; often, however, the\nlatter, who was sharp enough for all her foolishness, would fancy\nshe detected a patronizing, amused air in these gentlemen's\nmanners. As, indeed, there often was; they were chief","and encouraged him, and helped him to fight the world again,\nand gave him never a hard word or look, thinking he had had plenty.\nWhich sister's influence would be greater, Miss Meg?\"\n\nMeg's little soft mouth, was quivering, her eyes were on the ground,\nbecause the tears would have splashed out if she had lifted them.\n\n\"Oh-h-h!\" she said again. \"Oh, how very horrid I have been--oh-h-h!\"\n\nShe covered her face with her hands, for one of her quickly gathered\n"],["was\ncrying because it was borne upon her what a very hateful creature\nshe was. First Alan lectured her and spoke of his sister, and now\nthis man.\n\nHe misinterpreted her silence.\n\n\"I have no right to speak to you like this, because my life has been\nany colour but white--that is it, isn't it, Miss Meg?\" he said with\ngreat sadness.\n\nMeg dropped her sheltering hands.\n\n\"Oh, no,\" she said, \"oh! how CAN you think so? It is only I","end of the boat--cigars at the beginning\nof term and a short, black, villainous-looking pipe at the end--and\nMeg used secretly to think how manly he looked, and to sigh profoundly.\n\nFor I may as well tell you now as later what this foolish little\nthing had done after a few months' course of Aldith and novels.\nShe had fallen in love as nearly as it is possible for sweet sixteen\nto do; and it was with Alan, who had no good looks nor pleasant\nmanners--not Andrew, who had speaking eyes, and","sweet sixteen\nto do; and it was with Alan, who had no good looks nor pleasant\nmanners--not Andrew, who had speaking eyes, and curls that \"made\nhis forehead like the rising sun\"; not Andrew, who gave her tender\nglances and conversation peppermints that said \"My heart is thine,\"\nbut Alan, who took no notice whatever of her beyond an occasional\nhalf-scornful bow.\n\nPoor little Meg! She was very miserable in these days, and yet it\nwas a kind of exquisite misery that she hugged to her","aving fun\"\nwith \"the girl MacCarthy,\" he objected to being left out in the\ncold. So he began to pay marked attentions to Meg, who blushed\nright up to her soft, pretty fringe every time he spoke to her,\nand looked painfully conscious and guilty if he said anything at\nall complimentary to her.\n\nThe other boy, Alan Courtney, was very tall and broad-shouldered,\nand not at all good-looking. He had a strong, plain face, grey\neyes deeply set, and brown hair that looked","or little Meg! She was very miserable in these days, and yet it\nwas a kind of exquisite misery that she hugged to her to keep it\nwarm. No one guessed her secret. She would have died rather than\nallow even Aldith to get a suspicion of it, and accepted Andrew's\nnotes and smiles as if there was nothing more she wanted. But she\ngrew a trifle thin and large-eyed, and used to make copious notes\nin her diary every night, and to write a truly appalling quantity\nof verses, in which","I'll get taken off,\" Miss Aldith would say as they started; and\nby the end of the time Meg would say longingly, \"How lovely it must\nbe to know crowds of gentlemen like you do.\"\n\nSometimes one or two of them would stop and exchange a word or two,\nand then Aldith would formally introduce Meg; often, however, the\nlatter, who was sharp enough for all her foolishness, would fancy\nshe detected a patronizing, amused air in these gentlemen's\nmanners. As, indeed, there often was; they were chief","-eyed, and used to make copious notes\nin her diary every night, and to write a truly appalling quantity\nof verses, in which \"heart\" and \"part,\" \"grieve\" and \"leave,\"\n\"weep\" and \"keep,\" and \"sigh\" and \"die,\" were most often the\nconcluding words of the lines. She endured Andrew for several\nreasons. He was Alan's brother for one thing, and was always\nsaying things about \"old Al,\" and recording his prowess on the\nfootball field; and Aldith might","this, won't you?\nI was thinking, of my sister who died. I had another little sister,\ntoo, a year older, but she was hard--only event to her once.\nShe is one of the best women in England now, but her lips are severe.\nLittle Miss Meg, I could not bear the thought of you growing hard.\"\n\nHalf a dozen big tears had fallen down among the forks. Meg was\ncrying because it was borne upon her what a very hateful creature\nshe was. First Alan lectured her and spoke of his sister","not think so? Still, perhaps we\ncan find a darker place farther on, and then I can kiss you without\ndanger. What is the matter?--are you always as quiet as this with\nAndrew?\"\n\n\"Oh, DON'T!\" said Meg, in a choking voice.\n\nThe mocking tone died instantly out of his voice, \"Miss Meg, you\nused to seem such a nice little girl,\" he said quietly; \"what\nhave you let that horrid MacCarthy girl spoil you for? For she is\nhorrid, though","-scrub at the end was very quiet; there was not a rustle,\nnot a sound of a voice, not a sound of the affected little laugh\nthat generally told when Aldith was near.\n\nMeg stopped breathless, and peered among the bushes; there was a\ntall figure leaning against the fence.\n\n\"Andrew!\" she said in a sharp whisper, and forgetting in her\nanxiety that she never called him by his Christian name--\"where\nare the others? Hasn't Aldith come?\"\n\nThere was the smell of a cig","s steed had not a canter in it, it fell out that\nhe kept beside the slow and timid rider all the time.\n\n\"You remind me of a little sister I had who died,\" he said slowly to\nMeg once, after a long talk. \"Perhaps if she were alive now I should\nnot be quite so contemptible.\"\n\nMeg's face flushed scarlet, and a shamed look had come into her eyes.\nIt seemed altogether terrible to her that he should know she knew of\nhis failing.\n\n\"Perhaps it makes her","he said quietly; \"what\nhave you let that horrid MacCarthy girl spoil you for? For she is\nhorrid, though you may not think so.\"\n\nMeg did not speak or move, and he went on with a gentle earnestness\nthat she had not thought him capable of..\n\n\"I have watched her on the boat, systematically going to work to\nspoil you, and can't help thinking of the pity of it. I imagined\nhow I should feel if my little sister Flossie ever fell in with\nsuch a girl, and","the\nteasing.\n\nNowadays Meg spent a great deal of time in her bedroom, that she\nhad all to herself while Judy was away. In its privacy she\ntrimmed and retrimmed her hats, altered her dresses, read her\nnovels, and sat in front of the looking-glass with her hair down,\ndreaming of being quite grown up and in love. For just now both\nto Aldith, and herself that state of life seemed the only one\naltogether lovely and desirable. Meg used to curl herself up in a\nbig easy-","en lady's winter cloak.\n\nThen she turned to go in.\n\n\"What's that sticking out of your wee pocket, Flossie girl?\" he\nsaid, as she brushed past him. She stopped a second and felt.\n\n\"Oh, nearly I didn't wemember, an' I pwomised I would--it's a\nletter for you, Alan,\" she said, and gave Meg's poor little epistle\nup into the very hands of the Philistine.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nA","called him by his Christian name--\"where\nare the others? Hasn't Aldith come?\"\n\nThere was the smell of a cigar, and, looking closely, she saw to\nher horror it was Alan.\n\n\"Oh!\" she said, in an indescribable tone.\n\nHer heart gave one frightened, shamed bound, and then seemed\nto stop beating altogether.\n\nShe looked up, at him as if entreating him not to have too bad an\nopinion of her; but his face wore the contemptuous look she had\ngrown to","atrice he thought you seemed\na nice little thing; he often notices you, he says, because you\nblush so.\"\n\n\"I can't help it,\" Meg said, unhappily. \"Aldith, how ought the\nribbon to go on my hat? I'm going to retrim it again.\"\n\n\"Oh, square bows, somewhat stiff, and well at the side,\" the oracle,\nsaid. \"I'm glad you're going to, dear, it looked just a wee bit\ndowdy, didn't","the\nlittle fair-faced girl, who looked with such serene blue eyes to a\nfuture she felt must be beautiful, and the world-worn man, who looked\nback to a past all blackened and unlovely by his own acts.\n\nHe rode with the two girls every-day, because Mrs. Hassal did not\nlike them going long distances alone; and, seeing Judy seldom walked\nher horse, and Meg's steed had not a canter in it, it fell out that\nhe kept beside the slow and timid rider all the time.\n\n","\n\n\"I do, I do indeed,\" he said eagerly; \"I only said it because--well,\nbecause I am a great rough brute, and don't know how to talk to a\nlittle, tender girl. Dear Miss Meg, do shake hands and tell me you\nforgive my boorishness.\"\n\nMeg extended a small white hand, and he shook it warmly. Then\nthey walked up the paddocks together, and parted at a broken gate\nleading into the garden.\n\n\"I'll never flirt again while I live","was not calculated\nto cure it; Meg had grown weary of staring out into the moving darkness,\nand wondering whether Alan would notice she was never on the river-boat\nnow; and the poor little General was filling the hot air with\nexpostulations, in the shape of loud roars, at the irregularities of\nthe treatment he was undergoing.\n\nEsther had taken his day clothes off, and made a picture of him in\na cream flannel nightgown and a pink wool jacket. And for half an\nhour, he had submitted good-temperedly to being handed","again,\nand the way her soft hair fell on her forehead made him think\nof his young dead sister.\n\n\"I BEG you to give it to me again, little Miss Meg,\" he said.\n\nMeg's heart and head had a rapid battle; the former was tender\nand charitable, and bade her take the little ribbon and give it to\nhim instantly; the latter said he had sinned greatly, and she must\nshow him her disapproval by her manner, even if she yielded what he\nasked her in the end. The head won.\n"],["vision of his father crossed his mind.\n\n\"He won't know, of course,\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\nmanner. \"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\npresently I'll go back to school.\" She sank down among the straw\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\n\n\"How far is it from your school?\" he said at last.","'t to go to school,\" Judy continued, thinking it rapidly out.\n\"Two of you could go and get some food. Tell Martha you are all\ngoing for a picnic--she'll be glad enough not to have dinner to\nset--then you go on. Two others can watch if the coast's clear\nwhile I get down and across the paddocks, and once we're at the\ncorner of the road we're safe.\"\n\nIt seemed feasible enough, and in a very short time the preparations\nwere all made. Pip was mount",", a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.\n\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\nanswer.\n\n\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\" he continued, in the\nsame unemotional voice. \"Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"","Judy,\" he said gently, \"but the others are\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\"\n\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\n\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\n\n\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\" she said with a sob. \"They might\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\"\n\n\"Pip's gone fishing,\" he said, \"and Nell's carrying the basket","dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\nand her hair matted and rough.\n\n\"My golly!\" the little boy said again, his eyes threatening\nto start out of his head--\"my golly, Judy, what have you been\ndoin'?\"\n\n\"I--I've run away, Bunty,\" Judy said, in a quavering voice.\n\"I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you all\nso badly.\"\n\n\"My jiggery!\" Bunty said.\n\n\"I've thought it","time. Pip\nused to go to school late and come back early, cajoling notes of excuse,\nwhenever, possible, out of Esther. He even played the truant once, and\ntook a caning for it afterwards quite good-humouredly.\n\nJudy still looked pale and tired, and her cough was rather troublesome;\nbut she was fast getting her high spirits back, and was enjoying her\nadventure immensely.\n\nThe only drawback was the cribbed, cabined, and confined space of\nthe lo",", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\"\n\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \"Who on earth--what--\"\n\n\"Judy,\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \"She's in the shed,\n","actual\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\ndespair. \"Judy's home!\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\n\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\n","home,\" said Bunty, almost bursting with the importance of his\nknowledge. \"No one's seen her but me; I've nearly got killed\nwith climbing up cactuses and into windows and things, and I've had\nthrashings from Father and everything, but I never told a word, did\nI, Meg? I've got her up in the shed here, and I went and got corned\nbeef and everything just you look at my legs:\"\n\nHe displayed his scars proudly, but Meg hurried on, and Pip and Nell","open them, and then he felt he could never\nclose them again for amazement.\n\nFor, it was Judy's hand that was over his mouth, and Judy's self\nthat was standing beside him.\n\n\"My golly!\" he said, in a tone of stupefaction. He stared hard\nat her to make sure she was real flesh and blood. \"However did\nyou get here?\"\n\nBut Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining apple\nand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in\nsil","sew or something. You like it better 'n Pip's, don't\nyou?\"\n\nJudy temporized skilfully, and averted offence to either by asking\nthem to put the presents with all the others near the head of the bed.\n\n\"What a lot of things you'll have to take back to school, Ju,\" Nell\nsaid, as she added her contribution in the shape of a pair of crochet\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\n\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance,","\nfather. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he\nwatched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber\nof his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?\n\n\"Judy,\" he said in a loud voice.\n\nThe closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness\ncleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.","a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\nthat were Judy'","a minute or two, and\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\n\n\"How far is it from your school?\" he said at last.\n\n\"Seventy-seven miles.\" Judy shuddered a little. \"I got a lift\nin a luggage train from Lawson to Springwood, and a ride in a cart\nfor a little way, but I walked the rest. I've been nearly a week\ncoming,\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-","Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?\" he repeated.\n\n\"No, Father,\" she said.\n\nHer face had a worn, strained look that might have touched him\nat another time, but he was too angry to notice.\n\n\"No excuse or reason at all?\"\n\n\"No, Father.\"\n\nHe moved toward the opening. \"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\nwill come straight back with","But Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining apple\nand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in\nsilence.\n\n\"Haven't you got any more?\" she said anxiously. Then he\nnoticed what a tall, gaunt, strange-looking Judy it was. Her\nclothes were hanging round her almost in tatters, her boots were\nburst and white with dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\nand her hair matted and rough.\n\n\"My golly!\" the little boy said again,","her; I'll bring him down with me.\"\n\nEsther deposited her little fat son on the pillow, and with one\nloving backward glance went out of the door.\n\nAnd Judy pulled the little lad down into her arms, and covered the\nbedclothes right over both their heads, and held him in a fierce,\nalmost desperate clasp for a minute or two, and buried her face\nin his soft, dimpled neck, and kissed it till her lips ached.\n\nHe fought manfully against these troublesome proceedings, and at\nlast objected, with an","a pair of crochet\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\n\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance, and turned her face\nto the wall for the rest of the evening.\n\nThat was what had been hanging over her so heavily all this long\nfortnight in bed--the thought of school in the future.\n\n\"What's going to happen to me when I get better, Esther?\" she\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\nsee her. \"Is he saving up a lot of beatings","Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\n\n\"Next Monday,\" he said slowly--\"next Monday morning you will\ngo to boarding school. Est","as hardly compatible with dignity. He remembered hearing\nrumours of missing furniture in the house, and almost a smile came\ninto his eyes as he saw the little old table with the spirit-lamp and\nteapot thereon, the bed-clothing and washing-basin. But a stern\nlook succeeded it. Were seventy-seven miles not sufficient obstacle\nto Judy's mischievous plans? How did she dare thus to defy him, a\nchild of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed\nominously, and he went down again"],["vision of his father crossed his mind.\n\n\"He won't know, of course,\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\nmanner. \"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\npresently I'll go back to school.\" She sank down among the straw\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\n\n\"How far is it from your school?\" he said at last.","Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?\" he repeated.\n\n\"No, Father,\" she said.\n\nHer face had a worn, strained look that might have touched him\nat another time, but he was too angry to notice.\n\n\"No excuse or reason at all?\"\n\n\"No, Father.\"\n\nHe moved toward the opening. \"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\nwill come straight back with",", one would think I was going to take the child to be hanged,\nor at least was going to leave her in a penitentiary.\"\n\nA great dry sob broke from Judy's white lips.\n\n\"If you'll let me stay, Father, I'll never do another thing to vex\nyou; and you can thrash me instead, ever so hard.\"\n\nIt was her last effort, her final hope, and she bit her poor\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\n\n\"Let her stay--oh! do",", a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.\n\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\nanswer.\n\n\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\" he continued, in the\nsame unemotional voice. \"Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"","\nfather. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he\nwatched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber\nof his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?\n\n\"Judy,\" he said in a loud voice.\n\nThe closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness\ncleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.","Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\n\n\"Next Monday,\" he said slowly--\"next Monday morning you will\ngo to boarding school. Est","\"No, Father.\"\n\nHe moved toward the opening. \"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\nwill come straight back with me this moment,\" he said, in an even\nvoice. \"I shall take precautions to have you watched at school since\nyou cannot be trusted. You will not return home for the Christmas\nholidays, and probably not for those of the following June.\"\n\nIt was as bad as a sentence of death. The room swam before the girl's\neyes, there was a singing and rushing in her ears.\n\n\"",". I wanted to see you all\nso badly.\"\n\n\"My jiggery!\" Bunty said.\n\n\"I've thought it all out,\" Judy continued, pushing back her hair\nin a weary moray. \"I can't quite remember everything just now,\nI am so tired, but everything will be all right.\"\n\n\"But what'll he say?\" Bunty said with frightened eyes, as a\nvision of his father crossed his mind.\n\n\"He won't know, of course,\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\n","as hardly compatible with dignity. He remembered hearing\nrumours of missing furniture in the house, and almost a smile came\ninto his eyes as he saw the little old table with the spirit-lamp and\nteapot thereon, the bed-clothing and washing-basin. But a stern\nlook succeeded it. Were seventy-seven miles not sufficient obstacle\nto Judy's mischievous plans? How did she dare thus to defy him, a\nchild of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed\nominously, and he went down again","no irreparable harm done, is\nthere? Yes, your father has gone away in a cab. He couldn't\nimagine how the little boy came on his bed, and, as he couldn't\nkeep him here very well, I suppose he has taken him home.\"\n\nSomething like a look of shame came into Judy's bright eyes,\n\n\"I am afraid I must have put my father to some inconvenience,\"\nshe said quietly. \"It was I who left the Gen--my brother here,\nbecause I didn't know what to do with him","a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true","and isn't it right and proper fathers should\nlook after their sons? And doesn't he deserve we should get\neven with him for doing us out of the pantomime? And isn't the\nAquarium too lovely to miss?\"\n\n\"Well?\" Pip said; his slower brain did not follow such rapid\nreasoning.\n\n\"Only I'm going to leave the General here at the Barracks for a\ncouple of hours till we come back, his father being the proper\nperson to watch over him.\" Judy grasped the General's","that her father could\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\na chickenhearted baby.\n\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\nhe was doing all this to","a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\nthat were Judy'","\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\nsee her. \"Is he saving up a lot of beatings for me? And shall I\nhave to go back the first week?\"\n\nEsther reassured her.\n\n\"You won't go back this quarter at all, very likely not next either,\nJudy dear. He says you shall go away with some of the others for\na change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\"\n\nWith this","obstinately\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days; and she had\npretended to everyone, and her father, that she especially thought\nboarding school must be great fun, and that she should enjoy it\nimmensely.\n\nBut this morning she had collapsed altogether. All the time before,\nher hot childish heart had been telling her that her father could\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled","father, and which was\nstill unconfessed, because the horse was seriously lame, and his\ncourage oozed away every time he thought of that riding-whip.\n\nPerhaps it was the reaction after the great excitement. Or it may\nhave been a rankling sense of injustice at the small glory his brave\ndeeds on Judy's behalf evoked from the others. They did not seem to\nattach any importance to them, and, indeed, laughed every time he\nalluded to them or drew public attention to his scars. Two or","dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\nand her hair matted and rough.\n\n\"My golly!\" the little boy said again, his eyes threatening\nto start out of his head--\"my golly, Judy, what have you been\ndoin'?\"\n\n\"I--I've run away, Bunty,\" Judy said, in a quavering voice.\n\"I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you all\nso badly.\"\n\n\"My jiggery!\" Bunty said.\n\n\"I've thought it","Judy had said solemnly, and all had promised so to conduct\nthemselves that their father's heart could not fail to be melted.\n\nPip put on his school jacket, brushed his hair, took a pile of\nschool books, and proceeded to the study where his father was\nwriting letters, and where he was allowed to do his home-lessons.\n\n\"Well, what do you want?\" said the Captain, with a frown. \"No,\nit's no good coming to the about that pup, sir--I won't have","\n (B)--sure, and don't I lo-o-ove you and delaight to plaize you?\"\n\nHe went in again slowly, thoughtfully. Judy always mystified\nhim. He understood her the least of any of his children, and\nsometimes the thought of her worried him. At present she was only\na sharp, clever, and frequently impertinent child; but he felt\nshe was utterly different from the other six, and it gave him\nan aggrieved kind of feeling when he thought about it, which was\nnot very often."],["he is a\nscamp.\"\n\n\"Upon my word, Esther, your parents have a large enough fund of\nphilanthropy. Anyone else included in the invitation?\"\n\n\"Only Nell and Bunty and Baby. Oh, and Mother says if you can\nrun up at any time for a few days shooting you know without her\ntelling you how pleased she will be to see you.\"\n\n\"The hospitality of squatters is world-famed, but this breaks all\nprevious records, Esther.\" The Captain got up and stretched himself\nwith the air","\nwere not out in distant parts of the run.\n\nClose to the house was a long weather-board building with a heavy,\npadlocked door.\n\n\"Oh, let's go in,\" Nell said, attracted by the size of the\npadlock; \"it looks like a treasure-house in a book--mayn't we\ngo in, please, little grandma?\"\n\nThey were exploring all the buildings--the six children in a body,\nMrs. Hassal, whom they all called \"little grandma,\" much to her\npleasure, and Esther","pale.\"\n\nThe Captain placed the cigar back in the case. He forgot there was\nsuch a thing as gout.\n\n\"The invitation could not have been more opportune,\" he said. \"Accept\nby all means; nothing could have been better; and it is an exceedingly\nhealthy climate. The other children can--\"\n\n\"Oh, Father expressly stipulates for Pip as well, because he is a\nscamp.\"\n\n\"Upon my word, Esther, your parents have a large enough fund of\nphilanthropy.","over her mouth and held her by the hair while Esther told the\nnews.\n\n\"None of you are to go to the pantomime. The seats were taken for\nThursday night, and now, you very foolish children, you will all\nhave to stay at home.\"\n\nThere was a perfect howl of dismay for a minute or two. They had\nall been looking forward to this treat for nearly a month, and the\ndisappointment was a really bitter one to them all.\n\n\"Oh, I say, Esther, that's too bad, really!","\n\nBut it was a very damp, miserable drive, and the General wept with\nhardly a break from start to finish, greatly to Esther's vexation,\nfor it was his first introduction to his grandfather.\n\nAt last, when everyone was beginning to feel the very end of patience\nhad come, a high white gate broke the monotony of dripping wet\nfences.\n\n\"Home!\" Esther said joyfully. She jumped the General up and down on\nher knee.\n\n\"Little Boy Blue, Mum fell off that gate when she was three,\"","I HOPE he hasn't gone\ntoo; someway I don't think Father was very pleased, especially\nas that man was there.\"\n\nBut that small youth had done so, and returned presently\ncrestfallen.\n\n\"He wouldn't give me any--he told me to go away, and the man\nlaughed, and Esther said we were very naughty--I got some\nfeathered potatoes, though, from the table outside the door.\"\n\nHe opened his dirty little hands and dropped the uninviting\nfeathered delicacy out","calling forth a word or two of \"foreign language,\" when\nEsther came in with a smile on her lips and an open letter in her\nhands.\n\n\"From Mother,\" she said. \"Yarrahappini's a wilderness, it seems, and\nshe wants me to go up, and take the General with me, for a few weeks.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" he said.\n\nIt would certainly solve one of the difficulties. The place was very\nfar away certainly, but then it was Esther's old home, and she had\nnot seen it since","\"Oh, Jack!\" Esther said reproachfully.\n\n\"Oblige me by not interfering,\" he said; \"allow me a little\nliberty with my own children, Esther. He is an untruthful little\nvagabond; I am ashamed to own him for my son.\"\n\nAnd Esther, reflecting on the many shiftinesses of her stepson, was\nable to console herself with the hope that it would do him good.\n\nThey went a shortcut through the bush to avoid the public road, and\nthe blue,","arm\non the box seat, and seeing still nothing but an endless vista of\ngum trees. \"I thought, you said we were there, Esther.\"\n\n\"Oh, the front door is not quite so near the gate as at Misrule,\"\nshe said. And indeed it was not.\n\nIt was fifteen minutes before they even saw the chimneys, then there\nwas another gate to be opened. A gravel drive now trimly kept,\nhigh box round the flower-beds, a wilderness of rose bushes that\npleased Meg's eye, two chip","children in a body,\nMrs. Hassal, whom they all called \"little grandma,\" much to her\npleasure, and Esther with the boy.\n\n\"You must go and ask Mr. Gillet,\" the old lady said; \"he keeps\nthe keys of the stores. See, over in that cottage near the tank,\nand speak nicely, children, please.\"\n\n\"Such a gentleman,\" she said in a low tone to Esther, \"so clever,\nso polished, if only he did not drink so.\"\n\nMeg and Judy went, with","green thick\ncreeper with rain-blown wisteria for an outer wall.\n\n\"O--o--oh,\" said Pip; \"o--oh! I AM stiff--o--oh, I say, what are you\ndoing?\"\n\nFor Esther had deposited her infant on his knee, and leapt out of\nthe waggonette and up the veranda steps.\n\nThere was a tiny old lady there, with a great housekeeping apron\non. Esther gathered her right up in her arms, and they kissed and\nclung to each","Baby flung her arms round her neck\nand nearly choked her; Nell stroked her cheek; Pip patted her\nback, and besought her to \"be a good fellow\"; Bunty buried his\nnose in her back hair and wept a silent tear; Meg clasped her hand\nin an access of unhappiness; the General gave a series of delighted\nsqueaks; and Judy in her wretchedness smacked him for his pains.\n\nEsther would do her best, beg as she had never done before, coax,\nbeseech, whe",", and she bit her poor\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\n\n\"Let her stay--oh! do letter stay, we'll be good always,\" came\nin a chorus from the veranda. And, \"Let her stay, John, PLEASE!\"\nEsther called in a tone as entreating as any of the children.\n\nBut the Captain sprang into the dogcart and seized the reins from\nPat in a burst of anger.\n\n\"I think you're all demented!\" he cried. \"She'","\n\n\nThey went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her\ndays, \"would go the softlier, sadlier\" because of the price that\nhad been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air\nof Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.\n\nSo when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor\nlittle girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill","tone to Esther, \"so clever,\nso polished, if only he did not drink so.\"\n\nMeg and Judy went, with Baby hurrying after them as fast as her\nshort legs would allow.\n\n\"Come in,\" a voice said, when they knocked. Meg hesitated\nnervously, and a man opened the door. Such a great, gaunt man,\nwith restless, unhappy eyes, a brown, wide brow, and neatly\ntrimmed beard.\n\nJudy stated that Mrs. Hassal had sent them for the keys, if he had","there, with a great housekeeping apron\non. Esther gathered her right up in her arms, and they kissed and\nclung to each other till they were both crying.\n\n\"My little girl!\" sobbed the little old lady, stroking, with eager\nhands, Esther's wet hair and wetter cheeks.\n\nAnd Bunty, who had followed close behind, looked from the tall figure\nof his stepmother to the very small one of her mother and laughed.\n\nEsther darted back to the buggy, took the General from Pip, and","which an\nimmensely tall man was climbing.\n\n\"Father!\"\n\nEsther rushed out into the rain. She put her arms round the dripping\nmackintosh and clung fast to it for a minute or two. Perhaps that is\nwhat made her cheeks and eyes so wet and shining.\n\n\"Little girl--little Esther child!\" he said, and almost lifted her\noff the ground as he kissed her, tall though Meg considered her.\n\nThen he hurried them all off into the buggies, five in one and three\nin the other.","s dress, fastening her own with it, and dropping\na curtsey.\n\nEsther reddened a little now.\n\n\"That's the General, Judy: he always pulls the buttons off my\nwrappers when I play with him. But I'm forgetting. Children,\nI have bad news for you.\"\n\nThere was a breathless silence. Everyone crowded round her knees.\n\n\"Sentence has been proclaimed,\" said Judy dramatically: \"let us\nshave our heads and don sackcloth.\"\n\n\"Your father says he cannot","him for his pains.\n\nEsther would do her best, beg as she had never done before, coax,\nbeseech, wheedle, threaten; and they let her go at last with that\nassurance.\n\n\"Only I'd advise you all to be preternaturally good and quiet\nall day,\" she said, looking back from the doorway. \"That would\nhave most effect with him, and he is going to be at home all day.\"\n\nGOOD! It was absolutely painful to witness the virtue of those\nchildren for the rest of the","for the girls to go alone, for Meg had\nshown herself nothing but a silly little goose, in spite of her\nsixteen years; and Judy needed attention. Then he remembered\nEsther, too, was, looking unwell; the nursing and the General\ntogether had been too much for her, and she looked quite a shadow of\nher bright self. He knew he really ought to send her, too, and the\nchild, of course.\n\nAnd again the expense.\n\nHe remembered the Christmas holidays were not very far away; what\nwould become of the house"],["heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\nhorrible thud.\n\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\ntowards the sound!\n\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\nher arms spread out.\n\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\nlaid",", but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true.\n\nJudy sat bolt upright in bed at the sight of Esther's sorrowful\nface.\n\n\"It's no good, dear; there's no way out of it,\" she said gently.\n\"But you'll go like a brave girl, won't you, Ju-Ju? You always\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\"\n\nJudy gulped down","a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\nthat were Judy'",", dear, we are forgetting; there's Mother, Judy, dear--you\nwon't be lonely! Can't you remember Mother's eyes, little Judy?\"\n\nJudy grew quiet, and still more quiet. She shut her eyes so she\ncould not see the gathering shadows. Meg's arms were round her,\nMeg's cheek was on her brow, Nell was holding her hands, Baby her\nfeet, Bunty's lips were on her hair. Like that they went with her\nright to the Great Valley, where there","\nbrown hut, her wide eyes on the wonderful heavens, Judy lay dying.\nShe was very quiet now, though she had been talking--talking of\nall sorts of things. She told them she had no pain at all.\n\n\"Only I shall die when they move me,\" she said.\n\nMeg was sitting in a little heap on the floor beside her. She had\nnever moved her eyes from the face on the pillow of mackintoshes, she\nhad never opened her white lips to say one word.\n\nOutside the bullocks stood motionless","it had swayed to and fro,\nrotten through and through; now there came up across the plain a puff\nof wind, and down it went before it. One wild ringing cry Judy gave,\nthen she leaped across the ground, her arms outstretched to the little\nlad running with laughing eyes and lips straight to death.\n\nThe crash shook the trees around, the very air seemed splintered.\n\nThey had heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\nhorrible thud.\n\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces",", a little shaken, mightily\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\nlaid him down, and gathered with the others close around Judy.\n\nOh, the little dark, quiet head, the motionless body, in its pink,\ncrushed frock, the small, thin, outspread hands!\n\n\"Judy!\" Pip said, in a voice of beseeching agony. But the only\nanswer was the wind at the tree-tops and the frightened breathings\nof the others.\n","of them would.\n\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\naround Judy's lace-up boot.\n\nBunty was standing, with a stunned look on his white face, behind\nthe stretcher. His eyes were on his sister's hair, but he did\nnot dare to let there wander to her face, for fear of what he should\nsee there. Nellie was moving all the time--now to the fence to strain\nher eyes down the road, where the evening shadows lay heavily, now\nto fling","Judy again.\n\nShe did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt down\nand shook her shoulder gently.\n\n\"Here's some things, Judy--ain't you goin' to eat them?\"\n\nShe shook her head very slightly.\n\n\"Have some corned beef, or some currants; there's some peel, too, if\nyou'd rather.\"\n\nShe shook her head again. \"Do take them away,\" she said, with a\nlittle moan.\n\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his","ivered, and sat up straight. Judy's brow, grew damp, her eyes\ndilated, her lips trembled.\n\n\"Meg!\" she said, in a whisper that cut the air. \"Oh, Meg, I'm\nfrightened! MEG, I'm so frightened!\"\n\n\"God!\" said Meg's heart.\n\n\"Meg, say something. Meg, help me! Look at the dark, Meg. MEG,\nI can't die! Oh, why don't they be quick?\"\n",", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\"\n\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \"Who on earth--what--\"\n\n\"Judy,\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \"She's in the shed,\n","as her feet touched the water there was a figure in the doorway.\n\n\"Judy!\" said a wild voice; and Pip brushed them aside and fell\ndown beside her.\n\n\"Judy, Judy, JUDY!\"\n\nThe light flickered back in her eyes. She kissed him with pale lips\nonce, twice; she gave him both her hands, and her last smile.\n\nThen the wind blew over them all, and, with a little shudder, she\nslipped away.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nAnd Last\n\n\n",". Nell joined in in a little hysterical way, and\nBaby began to cry.\n\nMeg, white as death, picked her up and hurriedly began telling her\nthe story of the three bears for comfort.\n\nEsther looked a little puzzled, but, of course, never dreamt of\nconnecting the flying figure with Judy.\n\nAnd the Captain seemed delightfully blind and unsuspicious. He\nlay down on the grass and let the General swarm all over him; he\nmade jokes with Esther; he told several stories of his young","Judy,\" he said gently, \"but the others are\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\"\n\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\n\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\n\n\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\" she said with a sob. \"They might\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\"\n\n\"Pip's gone fishing,\" he said, \"and Nell's carrying the basket","you, Ju-Ju? You always\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\"\n\nJudy gulped down a great lump in her throat, and her poor little\nface grew white and drawn.\n\n\"It's all right, Essie. There, you go on down to breakfast,\"\nshe said, in a voice that, only shook a little; \"and please\nleave the General, Esther; I'll bring him down with me.\"\n\nEsther deposited her little fat son on the pillow, and with one\nloving backward","he body, would\neither make a noble, daring, brilliant woman of her, or else she\nwould be shipwrecked on rocks the others would never come to, and\nit would flame up higher and higher and consume her.\n\n\"Be careful of Judy\" had been almost the last words of the anxious\nmother when, in the light that comes when the world's is going out,\nshe had seen with terrible clearness the stones and briars in the\nway of that particular pair of small, eager feet.\n\nAnd she had died, and Judy was st","\ncoming,\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-pity trickled\nfrom beneath her black lashes, and made a little clean mark down her\ncheeks. Bunty's throat swelled at the sight of them, he had never\nseen Judy cry as long as he could remember. He patted her thin\nhand, he rubbed his head against her shoulder, and said, \"Never\nmind, old girl,\" in a thick voice.\n\nBut that brought, half a dozen great","her head again. \"Do take them away,\" she said, with a\nlittle moan.\n\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his small, heated face.\n\n\"An' I've half killed myself to get them! Well, you ARE a mean girl!\"\nhe said.\n\n\"Oh, DO go away,\": Judy moaned, moving her head restlessly from\nside to side. \"Oh, how my feet ache! no--my head, and my side--oh!\nI don't know what it is!\"\n\n\"I got","and struggled up again.\nand staggered on.\n\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\nits slow way into her wrist. Only its two back legs were left out\nfrom under the skin, and for a long time she pulled and pulled without\nany success. Then it broke in two, and she had to leave one half in\nfor little Grandma and kerosene to extract on their return.\n\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and","labelled with her name, a cold\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\nhe was doing all this to make it seem more real.\n\nBut now it was morning, and she could disbelieve it no longer.\nEsther had come to her bedside and kissed her sorrowfully, her\nbeautiful face troubled and tender. She had begged as she had\nnever done before for a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\nring"],["General was sitting on the seat next to his stern father,\nwho had a firm hold of the back of his woolly-pelisse. He was\nsucking his little dirty hand, and casting occasional longing\nglances at his tan shoe, which he knew was delicious to bite.\nOnce or twice he had pulled it off and conveyed it to his mouth,\nbut his father intercepted it, and angrily buttoned it on again\nin its rightful place. He wanted, too, to slither off the horrid\nseat, and crawl all over the deck","you, you dear old thing,\" said Miss Judy,\ndancing down the room and bestowing a pat on her sister's fair head\nas she passed. \"It's only the General, who's after havin' a bit\no' fun.\"\n\nShe lifted him up out of the high chair, where he had been sitting\ndrumming on the table with a spoon and eating sugar in the\nintervals.\n\n\"It's real action you're going for to see, General,\" she said,\ndancing to the door with him.\n\n\"Oh","levelling of brows, and pursing of lips, always meant deep\nand intricate calculation on his sister's part, as he knew full\nwell.\n\n\"Yes,\" Judy said quietly. \"I've got a plan that will do, I think.\"\nThen a sudden fire entered her manner.\n\n\"Who is the General's father? Tell me that,\" she said, in a\nrapid, eager way; \"and isn't it right and proper fathers should\nlook after their sons? And doesn't he deserve we should get\neven with him for","neck, and kissed it till her lips ached.\n\nHe fought manfully against these troublesome proceedings, and at\nlast objected, with an angry scream, to being suffocated. So she\nflung back the clothes and got out of bed, leaving him to burrow\nabout among the pillows, and pull feathers out of a hole in one\nof them.\n\nShe dressed in a quick nervous fashion, did her hair with more\ncare than usual, and then picked up the General and took him along\nthe passage into the nursery. All the others were here,","\n\nBut it was a very damp, miserable drive, and the General wept with\nhardly a break from start to finish, greatly to Esther's vexation,\nfor it was his first introduction to his grandfather.\n\nAt last, when everyone was beginning to feel the very end of patience\nhad come, a high white gate broke the monotony of dripping wet\nfences.\n\n\"Home!\" Esther said joyfully. She jumped the General up and down on\nher knee.\n\n\"Little Boy Blue, Mum fell off that gate when she was three,\"","on the seat between them.\n\"The General loves going on the water.\"\n\nAway they sped; down the neglected carriage drive, out of the\ngates, and away down the road. Pip, Judy of the shining eyes,\nthe General devouring his thumb, and Pat smiling-faced once more\nbecause in possession of the reins.\n\nA wind from the river swept through the belt of gum trees on the\nCrown lands, and sent the young red blood leaping through their\nveins; it played havoc with Judy's curls,","s dress, fastening her own with it, and dropping\na curtsey.\n\nEsther reddened a little now.\n\n\"That's the General, Judy: he always pulls the buttons off my\nwrappers when I play with him. But I'm forgetting. Children,\nI have bad news for you.\"\n\nThere was a breathless silence. Everyone crowded round her knees.\n\n\"Sentence has been proclaimed,\" said Judy dramatically: \"let us\nshave our heads and don sackcloth.\"\n\n\"Your father says he cannot","\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and was\ntravelling along as fast as ever his little fat legs would carry\nhim, thinking he was racing her. Just as she, started after him he\nlooked back, his eyes dancing, his face dimpled and mischievous, and,\noh! so dirty..\n\nAnd then--ah, God!\n\nIt is so hard to write it. My pen has had only happy writing\nto-do so far, and","the proper, penitent way.\nAnd then he put his darling arms round her neck and hugged her, and\nsaid \"Ju-Ju\" in a choking little voice, and patted her cheeks, and\ngave her a hundred eager, wide, wet kisses till she was better.\n\nThen they played chasings, and the General fell down twenty times,\nand scratched his little knees and hands, and struggled up again.\nand staggered on.\n\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\nits slow way","heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\nhorrible thud.\n\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\ntowards the sound!\n\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\nher arms spread out.\n\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\nlaid","and isn't it right and proper fathers should\nlook after their sons? And doesn't he deserve we should get\neven with him for doing us out of the pantomime? And isn't the\nAquarium too lovely to miss?\"\n\n\"Well?\" Pip said; his slower brain did not follow such rapid\nreasoning.\n\n\"Only I'm going to leave the General here at the Barracks for a\ncouple of hours till we come back, his father being the proper\nperson to watch over him.\" Judy grasped the General's","now. We're in for it now, Pip--there'll be no\nquarter.\"\n\nPip groaned; then Judy stood up.\n\n\"Let's creep down as far as the engine,\" she said, \"and see if he\ndoes look very bad.\"\n\nThey made their way cautiously along the deck, and took up a\nposition where they could see without being seen. The dear\nlittle General was sitting on the seat next to his stern father,\nwho had a firm hold of the back of his woolly-pelisse. He was","\nlay down on the grass and let the General swarm all over him; he\nmade jokes with Esther; he told several stories of his young days,\nand never even seemed to remark that his audience seemed inattentive\nand constrained.\n\n\"Haven't you made some tea?\" Esther said at last. \"We love\nbilly tea, and thought you would be sure to have some?\"\n\n\"Bunty hasn't come, he was to have brought the billy,\" Pip said,\nhalf sulkily. He had suspicions that there","\"It's real action you're going for to see, General,\" she said,\ndancing to the door with him.\n\n\"Oh, Judy, what are you going to do?\" said Meg entreatingly.\n\n\"Ju-Ju!\" crowed the General, leaping almost out of Judy's arms,\nand scenting fun with the instinct of a veteran.\n\nDown the passage they went, the other five behind to watch\nproceedings. Judy sat down with him on the last step.\n\n\"Boy want chuck-chuck,","getting\nquite nervous about him lately--thinks he'll get broken.\"\n\nPip grumbled a minute or two, but the General gave a gurgling,\ncaptivating laugh and held up his arms, so he took him up and\nheld him while Judy clambered in.\n\n\"We can come back in the tram to the Quay, and then get a boat\nback,\" she said, squeezing the baby on the seat between them.\n\"The General loves going on the water.\"\n\nAway they sped; down the neglected carriage drive, out","and struggled up again.\nand staggered on.\n\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\nits slow way into her wrist. Only its two back legs were left out\nfrom under the skin, and for a long time she pulled and pulled without\nany success. Then it broke in two, and she had to leave one half in\nfor little Grandma and kerosene to extract on their return.\n\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and",".\"\n\n\"Not a bit,\" said Judy, stoutly--\"at least, only a bit, and\nthe Aquarium's worth that. Look how it's raining; the child will\nget croup, or rheumatism, or something if we take him; there's\nFather standing over on the green near the tennis-court talking to\na man. I'll slip quietly along the veranda and into his own room,\nand put the coat and the General on the bed; then I'll tell a\nsoldier to go and","tumbled out and took the General, all in a bunched-up heap,\nand Judy alighted carefully after him, the precious coat parcel\nin her arms. And they walked up the asphalt hill to the\ngate leading to the officers' quarters in utter silence.\n\n\"Well?\" Pip said querulously, as they reached the top. \"Be\nquick; haven't you thought of anything?\"\n\nThat levelling of brows, and pursing of lips, always meant deep\nand intricate calculation on his sister's part, as he knew full\nwell","ought to be, ashamed of yourselves, SICH\nbehaviour at a picnic. It's been a saving in oranges, though,\nthat's a mercy.\"\n\nShe took half a dozen great fat ones from the bag, as well as four\nor five bananas, and went back with flying steps to the belt of trees,\nwhere the General in his holland coat could just be seen.\n\nHe was calmly grubbing up the earth and putting it in his little red\nmouth when she arrived with the bananas.\n\nHe looked up at","\n\nIt was never called \"Baby,\" either; that was the special name of\nthe next youngest. Captain Woolcot had said, \"Hello, is this the\nGeneral?\" when the little, red, staring-eyed morsel had been put\ninto his arms, and the name had come into daily use, though I\nbelieve at the christening service the curate did say something\nabout Francis Rupert Burnand Woolcot.\n\nBaby was four, and was a little soft fat thing with pretty\ncuddlesome ways, great smiling eyes, and lips very"],[", dear, we are forgetting; there's Mother, Judy, dear--you\nwon't be lonely! Can't you remember Mother's eyes, little Judy?\"\n\nJudy grew quiet, and still more quiet. She shut her eyes so she\ncould not see the gathering shadows. Meg's arms were round her,\nMeg's cheek was on her brow, Nell was holding her hands, Baby her\nfeet, Bunty's lips were on her hair. Like that they went with her\nright to the Great Valley, where there","little girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill-top behind the cottage,\nand a clump of wattle trees, dark-green now, but gold-crowned\nand gracious in the spring.\n\nThis is where they left little Judy. All around it Mr. Hassal had\nwhite tall palings put; the short grave was in the shady corner of\nit.\n\nThe place looked like a tiny churchyard in a children's country\nwhere there had only been","heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\nhorrible thud.\n\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\ntowards the sound!\n\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\nher arms spread out.\n\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\nlaid","of them would.\n\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\naround Judy's lace-up boot.\n\nBunty was standing, with a stunned look on his white face, behind\nthe stretcher. His eyes were on his sister's hair, but he did\nnot dare to let there wander to her face, for fear of what he should\nsee there. Nellie was moving all the time--now to the fence to strain\nher eyes down the road, where the evening shadows lay heavily, now\nto fling","\n\n\nThey went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her\ndays, \"would go the softlier, sadlier\" because of the price that\nhad been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air\nof Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.\n\nSo when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor\nlittle girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill",", a little shaken, mightily\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\nlaid him down, and gathered with the others close around Judy.\n\nOh, the little dark, quiet head, the motionless body, in its pink,\ncrushed frock, the small, thin, outspread hands!\n\n\"Judy!\" Pip said, in a voice of beseeching agony. But the only\nanswer was the wind at the tree-tops and the frightened breathings\nof the others.\n","actual\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\ndespair. \"Judy's home!\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\n\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\n","\nbrown hut, her wide eyes on the wonderful heavens, Judy lay dying.\nShe was very quiet now, though she had been talking--talking of\nall sorts of things. She told them she had no pain at all.\n\n\"Only I shall die when they move me,\" she said.\n\nMeg was sitting in a little heap on the floor beside her. She had\nnever moved her eyes from the face on the pillow of mackintoshes, she\nhad never opened her white lips to say one word.\n\nOutside the bullocks stood motionless",", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\"\n\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \"Who on earth--what--\"\n\n\"Judy,\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \"She's in the shed,\n","was in the shady corner of\nit.\n\nThe place looked like a tiny churchyard in a children's country\nwhere there had only been one death.\n\nOr a green fair field, with one little garden bed.\n\nMeg was glad the little mound looked to the east; the suns died\nbehind it--the orange and yellow and purple suns she could not\nbear to watch ever again while she lived.\n\nBut away in the east they rose tenderly always, and the light crept\nup across the sky to the hill-top in delicate pinks and trem","Judy,\" he said gently, \"but the others are\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\"\n\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\n\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\n\n\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\" she said with a sob. \"They might\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\"\n\n\"Pip's gone fishing,\" he said, \"and Nell's carrying the basket","became scattered. Judy took the General and\nwent over to the belt of trees; Pip and Bunty occupied themselves\nwith catching locusts; Baby and Nell gathered wild flowers. Meg\nknelt down to collect the spoons and forks: and put the untouched\nfood back into the baskets away from the ants.\n\n\"I will do this--you look hot, Miss Meg; sit down quietly,\" Mr.\nGillet said.\n\n\"Thank you, but I prefer to do it myself,\" Miss Meg said, with\nfreezing dignity.\n","a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\nthat were Judy'","distance away, talking in subdued voices.\n\nThere was nothing for them to do. The brown man had been talking--a\nrare thing for him.\n\nHe had soothed the General off to sleep, and laid him in the bunk\nwith the blue blanket tucked around him. And he had made a billy\nof hot strong tea, and asked the children, with tears in his eyes,\nto drink some, but none of them would.\n\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\naround Judy's lace-up boot","the stones and briars in the\nway of that particular pair of small, eager feet.\n\nAnd she had died, and Judy was stumbling right amongst them now,\nand her father could not \"be careful\" of her because he\nabsolutely did not know how.\n\nAs he went up the veranda steps again and through the hall, he was\nwishing almost prayerfully she had not been cast in so different a\nmould from the others, wishing he could stamp out that strange\nflame in her that made him so uneasy at times. He gave a great\n","\ncoming,\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-pity trickled\nfrom beneath her black lashes, and made a little clean mark down her\ncheeks. Bunty's throat swelled at the sight of them, he had never\nseen Judy cry as long as he could remember. He patted her thin\nhand, he rubbed his head against her shoulder, and said, \"Never\nmind, old girl,\" in a thick voice.\n\nBut that brought, half a dozen great","and struggled up again.\nand staggered on.\n\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\nits slow way into her wrist. Only its two back legs were left out\nfrom under the skin, and for a long time she pulled and pulled without\nany success. Then it broke in two, and she had to leave one half in\nfor little Grandma and kerosene to extract on their return.\n\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and","ily at a\ncertain plate, and refusing breakfast altogether; the General was\ncrashing his own mug and plate joyously together; and Bunty\nwas eating bread and butter in stolid silence.\n\nJudy, white-faced and dry-eyed, was sitting at the table, and Nell\nand Baby were clinging to either arm. All the three days between\nthat black Thursday and this doleful morning she had been obstinately\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days",". Nell joined in in a little hysterical way, and\nBaby began to cry.\n\nMeg, white as death, picked her up and hurriedly began telling her\nthe story of the three bears for comfort.\n\nEsther looked a little puzzled, but, of course, never dreamt of\nconnecting the flying figure with Judy.\n\nAnd the Captain seemed delightfully blind and unsuspicious. He\nlay down on the grass and let the General swarm all over him; he\nmade jokes with Esther; he told several stories of his young","it had swayed to and fro,\nrotten through and through; now there came up across the plain a puff\nof wind, and down it went before it. One wild ringing cry Judy gave,\nthen she leaped across the ground, her arms outstretched to the little\nlad running with laughing eyes and lips straight to death.\n\nThe crash shook the trees around, the very air seemed splintered.\n\nThey had heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\nhorrible thud.\n\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces"],["-wife, but she would not hear of it.\n\nAt first they had tried living in the barracks, but after a time\nevery one in the officers' quarters rose in revolt at the pranks\nof those graceless children, so Captain Woolcot took a house some\ndistance up the Parramatta River, and in considerable bitterness\nof spirit removed his family there.\n\nThey liked the change immensely; for there was a big wilderness\nof a garden, two or three paddocks, numberless sheds for\nhide-and-seek, and",". She jumped the General up and down on\nher knee.\n\n\"Little Boy Blue, Mum fell off that gate when she was three,\" said she,\nlooking at it affectionately as Pip swung it open.\n\nSplash through the rain again; the wheels went softly now, for the\nway was covered with wet fallen leaves.\n\n\"Oh, where IS the house?\" Bunty said, peeping through Pip's arm\non the box seat, and seeing still nothing but an endless vista of\ngum trees. \"I thought, you said we were there,","little girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill-top behind the cottage,\nand a clump of wattle trees, dark-green now, but gold-crowned\nand gracious in the spring.\n\nThis is where they left little Judy. All around it Mr. Hassal had\nwhite tall palings put; the short grave was in the shady corner of\nit.\n\nThe place looked like a tiny churchyard in a children's country\nwhere there had only been",", lived in one, and did little else than\nsmoke and give his opinion on the weather every morning.\n\nTwenty years ago he had helped to make a steady foundation for\nthe red cottage that had arrived ready built on a bullock-dray.\n\nFifteen years ago he had killed with his tomahawk one of two\nbushrangers who were trying to pick up Yarrahappini in the\nabsence of his master, and he had carried little trembling\nMrs. Hassal and tiny Esther to place of safety, and gone back\nand dealt the","it, and hurry back: think of\nyour map,\" Meg returned, in a very fever of impatience at his\nslowness.\n\nAnd then Bunty, utterly happy once more, turned and ran away gaily\nup to the house. And Meg let down the slip-rail, put it back in\nits place with trembling fingers, and fled in wild haste through\nthe two remaining paddocks.\n\nThe wattle-scrub at the end was very quiet; there was not a rustle,\nnot a sound of a voice, not a sound of the affected little","were released from their enclosure in a state of frenzied\ndesperation, and, with much cracking of whips and yells, mustered\ninto a herd and driven across the plain in the direction of the road.\nAnd some hour or two later the best \"beef\" lot were driven forth,\nand quiet reigned at Yarrahappini once more. During the two days\nof excitement the children all decided upon their future professions,\nwhich were all to be of a pastoral nature.\n\nPip was going to be a stockman, and brand and","and disappeared in the dips where rank grass\nand bracken flourished. The head station consisted of quite a little\ncommunity of cottages on the top of a hill. Years ago, when Esther\nwas no bigger than her own little General, there had been only a rough,\nred weather-board place on the hill-top, and a bark but or two for\nouthouses.\n\nAnd Mr. Hassal had been in the saddle from morning to night, and\nworked harder than any two of his own stockmen, and Mrs. Hassal had\nlaid aside","their future professions,\nwhich were all to be of a pastoral nature.\n\nPip was going to be a stockman, and brand and draft cattle all the\ndays of his life. Judy was going to be his \"aide-de-camp\", provided\nhe let her stay in the saddle, and provided her with a whip just as\nlong as his own. Meg thought she should like to marry the richest\nsquatter in Australia, and have the Governor and the Premier come up\nfor shooting and \"things,\" and give balls to which all the people\n","in the saddle from morning to night, and\nworked harder than any two of his own stockmen, and Mrs. Hassal had\nlaid aside her girlish accomplishments, her fancy work, her guitar,\nher water-colours, and had scrubbed and cooked and washed as many a\nsettler's wife has done before, until the anxiously watched wool\nmarket had brought them better days.\n\nThen a big stone cottage reared itself slowly right in front of the\nlittle old place with its bottle-bordered garden plot, where nothing\nmore aristocratic than pig's","squatter in Australia, and have the Governor and the Premier come up\nfor shooting and \"things,\" and give balls to which all the people\nwithin a hundred miles would come. Nell decided the would make soap\nand candles, coloured as well as plain, when she arrived at years\nof discretion; said Baby inclined to keeping paddocks full of pet\nlambs that never grew into sheep.\n\nBunty did, not wax enthusiastic over any of the ideas.\n\n\"I'd rather be like Mr. Gillet,\" he said, and his eyes","about them.\n\nBut in Australia a model child is--I say it not without\nthankfulness--an unknown quantity.\n\nIt may be that the miasmas of naughtiness develop best in the\nsunny brilliancy of our atmosphere. It may be that the land and\nthe people are young-hearted together, and the children's spirits not\ncrushed and saddened by the shadow of long years' sorrowful\nhistory.\n\nThere is a lurking sparkle of joyousness and rebellion and mischief\nin nature here, and therefore in","\nwere not out in distant parts of the run.\n\nClose to the house was a long weather-board building with a heavy,\npadlocked door.\n\n\"Oh, let's go in,\" Nell said, attracted by the size of the\npadlock; \"it looks like a treasure-house in a book--mayn't we\ngo in, please, little grandma?\"\n\nThey were exploring all the buildings--the six children in a body,\nMrs. Hassal, whom they all called \"little grandma,\" much to her\npleasure, and Esther","doubt if they will be back before the sun goes down, if they\ndon't go a little quicker,\" Mr. Gillet said; \"it is lunch-time\nnow.\"\n\nThey were in a great grassed paddock that at one end fell abruptly\ndown to the ravine and swamp lands known as \"Duck Water.\"\n\nA belt of great trees made a shade at one side, and along the other\nwas the barbed-wire fence that showed they had not got away from the\nYarrahappini estate even yet: higher up was the lonely bark hut of","bed-wire fence that showed they had not got away from the\nYarrahappini estate even yet: higher up was the lonely bark hut of\none of the stockmen.\n\nThey went up in a body to speak to him before he joined the bullock\nteam, and to view his solitary dwelling.\n\nJust a small room it was, with a wide fireplace and chimney, where\nhung a frying-pan, a billy, a cup, and a spoon. There was a bunk in\none corner, with a couple of blue blankets on it, a","\nbread, only rations of flour to make damper for themselves. Then\nwe give them a fixed, quantity of meat, tea, sugar, tobacco,\ncandles, soap, and one or two other things.\"\n\n\"Where do you keep the wool and things?\" said Pip, who had a soul\nabove home-made soap and metal dips for candles; \"I can't see any\nshed or anything.\"\n\nMrs. Hassal told him they were a mile away, down by the creek,\nwhere the sheep were washed and sheared at the","by a covered way.\n\nA hundred yards away there was a two-roomed cottage that was occupied\nby the son of an English baronet, who, for the consideration of\nseventy pounds a year and rations kept the Yarrahappini business\nbooks and gave out the stores.\n\nFarther still, two bark humpies stood, back to back. Tettawonga,\na bent old black fellow, lived in one, and did little else than\nsmoke and give his opinion on the weather every morning.\n\nTwenty years ago he had helped","arm\non the box seat, and seeing still nothing but an endless vista of\ngum trees. \"I thought, you said we were there, Esther.\"\n\n\"Oh, the front door is not quite so near the gate as at Misrule,\"\nshe said. And indeed it was not.\n\nIt was fifteen minutes before they even saw the chimneys, then there\nwas another gate to be opened. A gravel drive now trimly kept,\nhigh box round the flower-beds, a wilderness of rose bushes that\npleased Meg's eye, two chip","the distance on three sides was a blue hill line and\nblue soft trees.\n\nAnd up near the house the trees were green and beautiful, and the\nflowers a blaze of colour.\n\nBut all the stretching plain between was brown. Brown burnt grass\nwith occasional patches of dull green, criss-crossed here and there\nwith fences; that ran up the little hills that in places broke the\nplain's straight line, and disappeared in the dips where rank grass\nand bracken flourished. The head station consisted of quite a little\ncommunity of cott","the Captain went away, to their\nunspeakable relief.\n\n\"Now what is this mad story?\" Meg said, turning to her small\nbrother. \"I suppose it's one of your untruths, you bad little boy.\"\n\n\"Come and see,\"' Bunty returned, and he led the way through the\npaddocks. Half-way down they met Pip and Nell, returning earlier\nthan expected from the fishing expedition. Nellie looked sad, and\nwas walking at a respectful distance behind her brother.\n\n\"You might","\n\n\nThey went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her\ndays, \"would go the softlier, sadlier\" because of the price that\nhad been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air\nof Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.\n\nSo when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor\nlittle girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill"],["his father.\n\n\"Go and tell Pat I want him instantly,\" the Captain said. He\nhad the horse's leg in his hand and was examining it anxiously.\n\"If he's not about, send Pip. I can't think how it's happened--do\nyou know anything of this, Bunty?\"\n\n\"No, of course not! I n--never did n--n--nothing,\" Bunty said with\nchattering teeth, but his father was too occupied to notice his\nevident guilt, and bade him go at once.\n","been watching him,\nand marvelling at his rare and exceeding quietness.\n\nBunty started, guiltily, and pulled up his stockings.\n\n\"I'm not doin' nothin',\" he said aggrievedly, after a minute's\npause. Bunty always lapsed into evil grammar when agitated. \"Nothing\nat all. I'm goin' to a picnic.\"\n\n\"Ah, indeed!\" said the Captain. \"You looked as if you were\nmeditating on some fresh mischief, or sor",". Nell joined in in a little hysterical way, and\nBaby began to cry.\n\nMeg, white as death, picked her up and hurriedly began telling her\nthe story of the three bears for comfort.\n\nEsther looked a little puzzled, but, of course, never dreamt of\nconnecting the flying figure with Judy.\n\nAnd the Captain seemed delightfully blind and unsuspicious. He\nlay down on the grass and let the General swarm all over him; he\nmade jokes with Esther; he told several stories of his young","the Captain went away, to their\nunspeakable relief.\n\n\"Now what is this mad story?\" Meg said, turning to her small\nbrother. \"I suppose it's one of your untruths, you bad little boy.\"\n\n\"Come and see,\"' Bunty returned, and he led the way through the\npaddocks. Half-way down they met Pip and Nell, returning earlier\nthan expected from the fishing expedition. Nellie looked sad, and\nwas walking at a respectful distance behind her brother.\n\n\"You might","distance away, talking in subdued voices.\n\nThere was nothing for them to do. The brown man had been talking--a\nrare thing for him.\n\nHe had soothed the General off to sleep, and laid him in the bunk\nwith the blue blanket tucked around him. And he had made a billy\nof hot strong tea, and asked the children, with tears in his eyes,\nto drink some, but none of them would.\n\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\naround Judy's lace-up boot","far from Misrule, and the\nCaptain alighted, carrying his small dirty son gingerly in his\narms. He walked slowly up the red road along which the dogcart\nhad sped so blithesomely some six or seven hours ago, and Judy\nand Pip followed at a respectful--a very respectful--distance.\nAt the gate he saw them, and gave a large, angry beckon for them\nto come up. Judy went very white, but obeyed instantly, and Pip,\npulling himself together, brought up the rear.","\n\nIt was never called \"Baby,\" either; that was the special name of\nthe next youngest. Captain Woolcot had said, \"Hello, is this the\nGeneral?\" when the little, red, staring-eyed morsel had been put\ninto his arms, and the name had come into daily use, though I\nbelieve at the christening service the curate did say something\nabout Francis Rupert Burnand Woolcot.\n\nBaby was four, and was a little soft fat thing with pretty\ncuddlesome ways, great smiling eyes, and lips very","saw it, tossed it in the air,\nand then asked someone to take it quickly.\n\nThe children dragged it all over the country with them, dropped\nit countless times, forgot its pelisse on wet days, muffled it up\nwhen it was hot, gave it the most astounding things to eat, and yet\nit was the healthiest, prettiest, and most sunshiny baby that\never sucked a wee fat thumb.\n\nIt was never called \"Baby,\" either; that was the special name of\nthe next youngest. Captain Woolcot had said,","\n\n\nThey went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her\ndays, \"would go the softlier, sadlier\" because of the price that\nhad been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air\nof Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.\n\nSo when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor\nlittle girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill",".\"\n\n\"Ah, indeed!\" said the Captain. \"You looked as if you were\nmeditating on some fresh mischief, or sorrowing over some old--which\nwas it?\"\n\nBunty turned a little pale, but remarked again he \"wasn't doin'\nnothin'.\"\n\nThe Captain felt in a lazy, teasing mood, and his little fat, dirty\nson, was the only subject near.\n\n\"Suppose you come here and confess every bit of mischief you've\ndone this week,\" he said gravely.","hers, but she seemed just as fond of the other six as\nof it, and treated it more as if it were a very entertaining\nkitten than a real live baby, and her very own.\n\nIndeed at Misrule--that is the name their house always went by,\nthough I believe there was a different one painted above the\nbalcony--that baby seemed a gigantic joke to everyone. The\nCaptain generally laughed when he saw it, tossed it in the air,\nand then asked someone to take it quickly.\n\nThe children dragged it all over the country with them,","\n\"I?\" he said, and looked astonished. \"Indeed, no. What makes you\nthink so, Miss Judy?\"\n\n\"I can hear it distinctly,\" she said. \"Your eyes are saying it,\nand your left ear, not to mention the ends of your moustache.\"\n\n\"Judy!\" reproved Meg, whom something had made strangely quiet.\n\nHe pretended to be alarmed--shut his eyes, held his left ear,\ncovered his moustache.\n\n\"What can they be saying?\" he said.","heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\nhorrible thud.\n\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\ntowards the sound!\n\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\nher arms spread out.\n\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\nlaid",". Boy\ncome long with cawbawn gun, rabbit jerund drekaly, go burri, grass\ngrow, sheep get fat-ha, ha, he, he!\"\n\n\n**************************************\n\n\"To-morrow and to-morrow too! Rabbit, he go away quickly now. Boy\ncome along with big gun, rabbit he afraid directly, go under the\nground.\"\n\n**************************************\n\n\nPip understood his mixed English enough to know he was making fun of\nhim, and told him wrathfully to \"shut up",". \"Twenty kicks or blows divided by two only make\nten, you see.\"\n\nThey went up the long stone veranda and stopped at one door.\n\nThere was a little knot of young officers laughing and talking\nclose by.\n\n\"Take my word, 'twas as good as a play to see Wooly grabbing his\nyoungster, and stuffing it into a cab, and getting in himself, all\nwith a look of ponderous injured dignity,\" one said, and laughed\nat the recollection.\n\nAnother blew away a cloud","alarmed--shut his eyes, held his left ear,\ncovered his moustache.\n\n\"What can they be saying?\" he said.\n\n \"'Oh that I was where I would be!\n Then I would be where I am not:\n But where I am I still must be,\n And where I would be I cannot.'\n\n\"Meg, I WISH you would stop treading on my toes.\"\n\nSo after that even Mr. Gillet grew gay and talkative, to show he\nwas enjoying himself, and the bullocks caught the infection of","boy any longer, for she\ncouldn't, so there.\n\nThe Captain took an angry step into the pantry and gave a roar of\ncommand for Bunty to come down.\n\nThe boy dropped in an agony of dread and shrinking.\n\n\"Always his hands a-pickin' and stealin' and his tongue a-lyin',\"\nsaid Martha Tomlinson, gazing unkindly at the unhappy child.\n\nTwo, three, four, five angry cuts from the riding-whip in the\nCaptain's hands, and Bun","laughing from his seat on the hall\ntable. And then she popped it on the Captain's head, and put the\ncabbage-tree on her son's, and occupied several minutes thus in pretty\nplay.\n\nFinally they were ready, and moved down the hall.\n\n\"Master Bunty is locked in his room; on no account open the door,\nMartha,\" was the Captain's last command.\n\n\"Oh, Jack!\" Esther said reproachfully.\n\n\"Oblige me by not interfering,\" he said; \"allow me","\nlay down on the grass and let the General swarm all over him; he\nmade jokes with Esther; he told several stories of his young days,\nand never even seemed to remark that his audience seemed inattentive\nand constrained.\n\n\"Haven't you made some tea?\" Esther said at last. \"We love\nbilly tea, and thought you would be sure to have some?\"\n\n\"Bunty hasn't come, he was to have brought the billy,\" Pip said,\nhalf sulkily. He had suspicions that there","tumbled out and took the General, all in a bunched-up heap,\nand Judy alighted carefully after him, the precious coat parcel\nin her arms. And they walked up the asphalt hill to the\ngate leading to the officers' quarters in utter silence.\n\n\"Well?\" Pip said querulously, as they reached the top. \"Be\nquick; haven't you thought of anything?\"\n\nThat levelling of brows, and pursing of lips, always meant deep\nand intricate calculation on his sister's part, as he knew full\nwell"],[" Meg, the eldest, was only sixteen, and could not be\nexpected to be much of a disciplinarian, and the slatternly but\ngood-natured girl, who was supposed to combine the duties of\nnursery-maid and housemaid, had so much to do in her second\ncapacity that the first suffered considerably. She used to lay\nthe nursery meals when none of the little girls could be found to\nhelp her, and bundle on the clothes of the two youngest in the\nmorning, but beyond that the seven had to manage for themselves","a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true","boy any longer, for she\ncouldn't, so there.\n\nThe Captain took an angry step into the pantry and gave a roar of\ncommand for Bunty to come down.\n\nThe boy dropped in an agony of dread and shrinking.\n\n\"Always his hands a-pickin' and stealin' and his tongue a-lyin',\"\nsaid Martha Tomlinson, gazing unkindly at the unhappy child.\n\nTwo, three, four, five angry cuts from the riding-whip in the\nCaptain's hands, and Bun","\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\nsee her. \"Is he saving up a lot of beatings for me? And shall I\nhave to go back the first week?\"\n\nEsther reassured her.\n\n\"You won't go back this quarter at all, very likely not next either,\nJudy dear. He says you shall go away with some of the others for\na change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\"\n\nWith this","yet,\nand everyone felt in an uncomfortable state of suspense.\n\n\"Your father says you're a disgraceful tribe,\" said the young\nstepmother slowly, sitting down on the nursery rocking-chair\na day later. She had on a trailing morning wrapper of white\nmuslin with cherry ribbons, but there was a pin doing duty\nfor a button in one or two places and the lace was hanging\noff a bit at the sleeve.\n\n\"Meg, dear, you're very untidy, you know, and Judy's absolutely","you\nshould catch a glimpse of it--and it serves you very well right!\nMeg, for goodness' sake give Baby some dry clothes--just look\nat her; and, Judy, if you have any feeling for me, take off\nthat frock. Bunty, you wicked boy, I'll call your father if\nyou don't stop that noise. Nell, take the scissors from the\nGeneral, he'll poke his eyes out, bless him.\"\n\nThe young stepmother leaned back in her chair and looked round\nher tragically. ","wicked imps!\" she said, reaching out\nto box all their ears, and of course failing.\n\nShe sat down on the bottom stair to laugh for a second, then she\nhanded the General to Pip. \"To-morrow,\" she said, standing up\nand hastily smoothing the rich hair that the General's hands had\nclutched gleefully--\"to-morrow I shall beat every one of you\nwith the broomstick.\"\n\nThey watched the train of her yellow' silk dress disappear into\nthe dining-room again, and returned slowly to","Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\n\n\"Next Monday,\" he said slowly--\"next Monday morning you will\ngo to boarding school. Est","\nwith the broomstick.\"\n\nThey watched the train of her yellow' silk dress disappear into\nthe dining-room again, and returned slowly to the nursery and\ntheir interrupted tea.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nVirtue Not Always Rewarded\n\n\nIt was not to be expected that such an occurrence could be passed\nentirely over, but then again it is difficult to punish seven\nchildren at the same time. At first Captain Woolcot had requested\nEsther to ask Miss Marsh, the governess, to give them all","that her father could\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\na chickenhearted baby.\n\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\nhe was doing all this to","at the same time. At first Captain Woolcot had requested\nEsther to ask Miss Marsh, the governess, to give them all ten\nFrench verbs to learn; but, as Judy pointed out, the General\nand Baby and Bunty and Nell had not arrived at the dignity of\nFrench verbs yet, so such a punishment would be iniquitous.\nThe sentence therefore had not been quite decided upon as yet,\nand everyone felt in an uncomfortable state of suspense.\n\n\"Your father says you're a disgraceful tribe,\" said the","\"Oh, Jack!\" Esther said reproachfully.\n\n\"Oblige me by not interfering,\" he said; \"allow me a little\nliberty with my own children, Esther. He is an untruthful little\nvagabond; I am ashamed to own him for my son.\"\n\nAnd Esther, reflecting on the many shiftinesses of her stepson, was\nable to console herself with the hope that it would do him good.\n\nThey went a shortcut through the bush to avoid the public road, and\nthe blue,","a pair of crochet\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\n\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance, and turned her face\nto the wall for the rest of the evening.\n\nThat was what had been hanging over her so heavily all this long\nfortnight in bed--the thought of school in the future.\n\n\"What's going to happen to me when I get better, Esther?\" she\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\nsee her. \"Is he saving up a lot of beatings","hers, but she seemed just as fond of the other six as\nof it, and treated it more as if it were a very entertaining\nkitten than a real live baby, and her very own.\n\nIndeed at Misrule--that is the name their house always went by,\nthough I believe there was a different one painted above the\nbalcony--that baby seemed a gigantic joke to everyone. The\nCaptain generally laughed when he saw it, tossed it in the air,\nand then asked someone to take it quickly.\n\nThe children dragged it all over the country with them,","over her mouth and held her by the hair while Esther told the\nnews.\n\n\"None of you are to go to the pantomime. The seats were taken for\nThursday night, and now, you very foolish children, you will all\nhave to stay at home.\"\n\nThere was a perfect howl of dismay for a minute or two. They had\nall been looking forward to this treat for nearly a month, and the\ndisappointment was a really bitter one to them all.\n\n\"Oh, I say, Esther, that's too bad, really!","be found to\nhelp her, and bundle on the clothes of the two youngest in the\nmorning, but beyond that the seven had to manage for themselves.\n\nThe mother? you ask.\n\nOh, she was only twenty--just a lovely, laughing-faced girl, whom\nthey all adored, and who was very little steadier and very\nlittle more of a housekeeper than Meg. Only the youngest of the\nbrood was hers, but she seemed just as fond of the other six as\nof it, and treated it more as if it were a very entertaining\nkitten than","him for his pains.\n\nEsther would do her best, beg as she had never done before, coax,\nbeseech, wheedle, threaten; and they let her go at last with that\nassurance.\n\n\"Only I'd advise you all to be preternaturally good and quiet\nall day,\" she said, looking back from the doorway. \"That would\nhave most effect with him, and he is going to be at home all day.\"\n\nGOOD! It was absolutely painful to witness the virtue of those\nchildren for the rest of the","been proclaimed,\" said Judy dramatically: \"let us\nshave our heads and don sackcloth.\"\n\n\"Your father says he cannot allow such conduct to go unpunished,\nespecially as you have all been unusually tiresome lately;\ntherefore: you are all--\"\n\n\"To be taken away and hanged by the neck until we are dead!\"\n\n\"Be quiet, Judy. I have tried my best to beg you off, but it\nonly makes him more vexed. He says you are the untidiest, most\nunruly","he'll poke his eyes out, bless him.\"\n\nThe young stepmother leaned back in her chair and looked round\nher tragically. She had never seen her husband so thoroughly\nangered, and her beautiful lips quivered when she remembered how\nhe had seemed to blame her for it all.\n\nMeg hadn't moved; the water was trickling slowly off Baby's\nclothes and making a pool on the floor, Bunty was still giving\nvent to spasmodic boos and hoos, Judy was whistling stormily,\nand the General, mul","in need of a wise loving, motherly\nmother it was this same dirty-faced, heavyhearted one who sat\nwith his small rough head against a cobwebby beam and muttered\ndejectedly, \"'Twasn't my fault: 'Twas the horse:\"\n\nHe fancied something moved in the second loft, which was divided\nfrom the one he was in by a low partition. \"Shoo--shoo, get away!\"\nhe called, thinking it was rats. He struck the floor several times\nwith his heavy little boots.\n\n\"Shoo"],["Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\n\n\"Next Monday,\" he said slowly--\"next Monday morning you will\ngo to boarding school. Est","a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true","vision of his father crossed his mind.\n\n\"He won't know, of course,\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\nmanner. \"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\npresently I'll go back to school.\" She sank down among the straw\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\n\n\"How far is it from your school?\" he said at last.",", a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.\n\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\nanswer.\n\n\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\" he continued, in the\nsame unemotional voice. \"Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"","\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\nsee her. \"Is he saving up a lot of beatings for me? And shall I\nhave to go back the first week?\"\n\nEsther reassured her.\n\n\"You won't go back this quarter at all, very likely not next either,\nJudy dear. He says you shall go away with some of the others for\na change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\"\n\nWith this","'t to go to school,\" Judy continued, thinking it rapidly out.\n\"Two of you could go and get some food. Tell Martha you are all\ngoing for a picnic--she'll be glad enough not to have dinner to\nset--then you go on. Two others can watch if the coast's clear\nwhile I get down and across the paddocks, and once we're at the\ncorner of the road we're safe.\"\n\nIt seemed feasible enough, and in a very short time the preparations\nwere all made. Pip was mount","obstinately\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days; and she had\npretended to everyone, and her father, that she especially thought\nboarding school must be great fun, and that she should enjoy it\nimmensely.\n\nBut this morning she had collapsed altogether. All the time before,\nher hot childish heart had been telling her that her father could\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled","in these nasty\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess\na capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.\nTake care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,\na grand woman.\"\n\nThe Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study\nbefore he could decide how he could best \"take care of her.\"\n\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and",", but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true.\n\nJudy sat bolt upright in bed at the sight of Esther's sorrowful\nface.\n\n\"It's no good, dear; there's no way out of it,\" she said gently.\n\"But you'll go like a brave girl, won't you, Ju-Ju? You always\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\"\n\nJudy gulped down","dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\nand her hair matted and rough.\n\n\"My golly!\" the little boy said again, his eyes threatening\nto start out of his head--\"my golly, Judy, what have you been\ndoin'?\"\n\n\"I--I've run away, Bunty,\" Judy said, in a quavering voice.\n\"I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you all\nso badly.\"\n\n\"My jiggery!\" Bunty said.\n\n\"I've thought it","\"No, Father.\"\n\nHe moved toward the opening. \"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\nwill come straight back with me this moment,\" he said, in an even\nvoice. \"I shall take precautions to have you watched at school since\nyou cannot be trusted. You will not return home for the Christmas\nholidays, and probably not for those of the following June.\"\n\nIt was as bad as a sentence of death. The room swam before the girl's\neyes, there was a singing and rushing in her ears.\n\n\"","Judy,\" he said gently, \"but the others are\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\"\n\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\n\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\n\n\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\" she said with a sob. \"They might\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\"\n\n\"Pip's gone fishing,\" he said, \"and Nell's carrying the basket","actual\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\ndespair. \"Judy's home!\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\n\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\n","Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?\" he repeated.\n\n\"No, Father,\" she said.\n\nHer face had a worn, strained look that might have touched him\nat another time, but he was too angry to notice.\n\n\"No excuse or reason at all?\"\n\n\"No, Father.\"\n\nHe moved toward the opening. \"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\nwill come straight back with","a minute or two, and\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\n\n\"How far is it from your school?\" he said at last.\n\n\"Seventy-seven miles.\" Judy shuddered a little. \"I got a lift\nin a luggage train from Lawson to Springwood, and a ride in a cart\nfor a little way, but I walked the rest. I've been nearly a week\ncoming,\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-","that her father could\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\na chickenhearted baby.\n\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\nhe was doing all this to","you. Perhaps we can catch him up. Come on, Pip,\"\nand, nodding in a grave, distant manner, she turned away, and\nwent down the veranda and through the gate with her brother.\n\n\"A nice hole we're in,\" he said.\n\nJudy nodded.\n\n\"It's about the very awfullest thing we've ever done in our lives.\nFancy the governor carting that child all the way from here! Oh,\nlor'!\"\n\nJudy nodded again.\n\n\"Can't",", one would think I was going to take the child to be hanged,\nor at least was going to leave her in a penitentiary.\"\n\nA great dry sob broke from Judy's white lips.\n\n\"If you'll let me stay, Father, I'll never do another thing to vex\nyou; and you can thrash me instead, ever so hard.\"\n\nIt was her last effort, her final hope, and she bit her poor\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\n\n\"Let her stay--oh! do","her head again. \"Do take them away,\" she said, with a\nlittle moan.\n\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his small, heated face.\n\n\"An' I've half killed myself to get them! Well, you ARE a mean girl!\"\nhe said.\n\n\"Oh, DO go away,\": Judy moaned, moving her head restlessly from\nside to side. \"Oh, how my feet ache! no--my head, and my side--oh!\nI don't know what it is!\"\n\n\"I got","a pair of crochet\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\n\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance, and turned her face\nto the wall for the rest of the evening.\n\nThat was what had been hanging over her so heavily all this long\nfortnight in bed--the thought of school in the future.\n\n\"What's going to happen to me when I get better, Esther?\" she\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\nsee her. \"Is he saving up a lot of beatings"],["tained with a waist twenty-three inches round.\"\n\nAldith had not only made statements and comparisons, she had given\nher friend practical advice, and shown her how the thing was to be\ndone. And every night and morning Meg pulled away ruthlessly\nat her corset laces, and crushed her beautiful little body into\nnarrower space. She had already brought it within a girdle of\ntwenty-one inches, which was a clear saving of two, and she had\ntaken in all her dresses at the seams.\n\nBut she gave up","friend Meg, pronouncing that\nname to be \"too domestic and altogether unlovely.\"\n\nMeg glanced from her own waist to her friend's slender, beautiful\none, and sighed profoundly. \"What ought I to be?\" she said in a\nlow tone; and Aldith had answered, \"Eighteen--or nineteen,\nMarguerite, at the most; true symmetrical grace can never be\nobtained with a waist twenty-three inches round.\"\n\nAldith had not only made statements and comparisons, she had given\nher friend practical","had been sixteen, and a \"waist\" had\nbeen the most desirable thing on earth.\n\nOnce she had said unwittingly,\n\n\"What a nice little figure you are getting, Meg; this new\ndressmaker certainly fits better than Miss Quinn\"; and foolish\nMeg, with a throb of delight, had redoubled her efforts.\n\nLynx-eyed Judy would have found her out long ago, and laughed her\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\nabs","elt-fitting dress body. To walk quickly was positive pain; to\nstoop, almost agony; but she endured it all with a heroism\nworthy of a truly noble cause.\n\n\"How long shall I have to go on like this, Aldith?\" she asked\nonce faintly, after a French lesson that she had scarcely been\nable to sit through.\n\nAnd the older girl answered carelessly, \"Oh, you mustn't leave\nit off, of course, but you don't feel it at all after a bit.\"\n\nWith which assurance Meg","is tight-laced!\" he said; \"surely you must\nhave noticed it, madam. That pressure, if it has been constant,\nhas been enough to half kill her. Chut, chut! faint indeed--I wonder\nshe has not taken fits or gone into a decline before this.\"\n\nThen a cloud of trouble came over Esther's beautiful face--she had\nfailed again in her duty. Her husband was regarding her almost\ngloomily from the sofa, where the little figure lay in its\ncrumpled muslin dress, and her heart told her","and laughed her\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\nabsence.\n\nAldith only lived about twenty minutes' walk from Misrule, so\nthe two girls were always together. Twice a week they went down\nto town in the river-boat to learn how to inquire, in polite\nFrench, \"Has the baker's young daughter the yellow hat, brown\ngloves, and umbrella of the undertaker's niece?\" And twice a\nweek, after they had","mustn't leave\nit off, of course, but you don't feel it at all after a bit.\"\n\nWith which assurance Meg pursued her painful course.\n\nEsther, the only person in a position to exercise any authority\nin the matter, had not noticed at all, and, indeed, had she done,\nso would not have thought very gravely of it, for it was only\nfour years since she, too, had been sixteen, and a \"waist\" had\nbeen the most desirable thing on earth.\n\nOnce she had said unwittingly,","going\nto die, too, and if so would she be able to tell the same little\nwife that Esther received more tenderness at his hands than she\nhad done.\n\nHis reverie was interrupted by the doctor's sharp, surprised\nvoice. He was talking to Esther, who had been hastily summoned to\nthe scene, and who had helped to unfasten the pretty bodice.\n\n\"Why, the child is tight-laced!\" he said; \"surely you must\nhave noticed it, madam. That pressure, if it has been constant,","he said quietly; \"what\nhave you let that horrid MacCarthy girl spoil you for? For she is\nhorrid, though you may not think so.\"\n\nMeg did not speak or move, and he went on with a gentle earnestness\nthat she had not thought him capable of..\n\n\"I have watched her on the boat, systematically going to work to\nspoil you, and can't help thinking of the pity of it. I imagined\nhow I should feel if my little sister Flossie ever fell in with\nsuch a girl, and","or little Meg! She was very miserable in these days, and yet it\nwas a kind of exquisite misery that she hugged to her to keep it\nwarm. No one guessed her secret. She would have died rather than\nallow even Aldith to get a suspicion of it, and accepted Andrew's\nnotes and smiles as if there was nothing more she wanted. But she\ngrew a trifle thin and large-eyed, and used to make copious notes\nin her diary every night, and to write a truly appalling quantity\nof verses, in which","ices to hide the join. This\ndropped the skirts a good two inches, and made her look quite a\ntall, slim figure, as she was well aware.\n\nAnd none of these things were very harmful.\n\nBut Aldith gradually grew dissatisfied with her waist.\n\n\"You're at least twenty-three, Marguerite,\" she said once, quite in\na horrified way. She never called her friend Meg, pronouncing that\nname to be \"too domestic and altogether unlovely.\"\n\nMeg glanced from her own waist to her friend","inches, which was a clear saving of two, and she had\ntaken in all her dresses at the seams.\n\nBut she gave up the evening game of cricket, and she never made one\nat rounders now, much to the others' disgust. No one, to look at\nthe sweet blossom-like face, and soft, calm eyes, could have\nguessed what torture was being felt beneath the now pretty,\nwelt-fitting dress body. To walk quickly was positive pain; to\nstoop, almost agony; but she endured it all with a","and encouraged him, and helped him to fight the world again,\nand gave him never a hard word or look, thinking he had had plenty.\nWhich sister's influence would be greater, Miss Meg?\"\n\nMeg's little soft mouth, was quivering, her eyes were on the ground,\nbecause the tears would have splashed out if she had lifted them.\n\n\"Oh-h-h!\" she said again. \"Oh, how very horrid I have been--oh-h-h!\"\n\nShe covered her face with her hands, for one of her quickly gathered\n","ences a friendship sprang up.\n\nAldith had three grown-up sisters, whom she aped in everything,\nand was considerably wiser in the world than simple-minded,\nromantic Meg.\n\nShe lent Meg novels, \"Family Herald Supplements\", \"Young Ladies'\nJournals\", and such publications, and the young girl took to them\nwith avidity, surprised at the new world into which they took her;\nfor Charlotte Yonge and Louisa Alcott and Miss Wetherall had hitherto\nformed her simple and wholesome fare.","suggest improvements as he went along.\n\nMeg, who had almost severed her connection with Aldith, devoted\nherself to her sister, and waited on her hand and foot; she made her\nall kinds of little presents--a boot-bag, with compartments; a\nbrush-and-comb bag, with the monogram \"J.W.,\" worked in pink silk;\na little work-basket, with needle-book, pin-cushion, and all complete.\nJudy feared she should be compelled to betake herself to tidy habits\non","the\nteasing.\n\nNowadays Meg spent a great deal of time in her bedroom, that she\nhad all to herself while Judy was away. In its privacy she\ntrimmed and retrimmed her hats, altered her dresses, read her\nnovels, and sat in front of the looking-glass with her hair down,\ndreaming of being quite grown up and in love. For just now both\nto Aldith, and herself that state of life seemed the only one\naltogether lovely and desirable. Meg used to curl herself up in a\nbig easy-","again,\nand the way her soft hair fell on her forehead made him think\nof his young dead sister.\n\n\"I BEG you to give it to me again, little Miss Meg,\" he said.\n\nMeg's heart and head had a rapid battle; the former was tender\nand charitable, and bade her take the little ribbon and give it to\nhim instantly; the latter said he had sinned greatly, and she must\nshow him her disapproval by her manner, even if she yielded what he\nasked her in the end. The head won.\n","and look at your own stepmother. Plenty of girls\nare actually married at sixteen, Marguerite, and a man proposed\nmy sister Beatrice when she was only fifteen.\" Meg looked\nimpressed and thoughtful.\n\nThen Aldith rose to go. \"Mind you're in time for the boat\nto-morrow,\" she said, as they reached the gate; \"and, Marguerite,\nbe sure you make yourself look very nice--wear your cornflower\ndress, and see if Mrs. Woolcot will lend you a pair of her","I'll get taken off,\" Miss Aldith would say as they started; and\nby the end of the time Meg would say longingly, \"How lovely it must\nbe to know crowds of gentlemen like you do.\"\n\nSometimes one or two of them would stop and exchange a word or two,\nand then Aldith would formally introduce Meg; often, however, the\nlatter, who was sharp enough for all her foolishness, would fancy\nshe detected a patronizing, amused air in these gentlemen's\nmanners. As, indeed, there often was; they were chief","thinking of the pity of it. I imagined\nhow I should feel if my little sister Flossie ever fell in with\nsuch a girl, and began to flirt and make herself conspicuous,\nand I wondered would you mind if I spoke to you about it.\nAre you very angry with me, Miss Meg?\"\n\nBut Meg leaned her head against the rough fence and began to\nsob--little, dry, heartbroken sobs that went to the boy's warm\nheart.\n\n\"I oughtn't to have spoken as I did at first--I was"],["a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\nthat were Judy'","dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\nand her hair matted and rough.\n\n\"My golly!\" the little boy said again, his eyes threatening\nto start out of his head--\"my golly, Judy, what have you been\ndoin'?\"\n\n\"I--I've run away, Bunty,\" Judy said, in a quavering voice.\n\"I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you all\nso badly.\"\n\n\"My jiggery!\" Bunty said.\n\n\"I've thought it",", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\"\n\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \"Who on earth--what--\"\n\n\"Judy,\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \"She's in the shed,\n","her head again. \"Do take them away,\" she said, with a\nlittle moan.\n\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his small, heated face.\n\n\"An' I've half killed myself to get them! Well, you ARE a mean girl!\"\nhe said.\n\n\"Oh, DO go away,\": Judy moaned, moving her head restlessly from\nside to side. \"Oh, how my feet ache! no--my head, and my side--oh!\nI don't know what it is!\"\n\n\"I got","week,\" she said, in a troubled\nvoice. \"You've got a horrid cough with sleeping outside, and I'm\nsure you're ill. We shall have to tell Father about it. I'll beg him\nnot to send you back, though.\"\n\nJudy started up, her eyes aflame.\n\n\"If you do,\" she said--\"if you do, I will run away this very night,\nand walk to Melbourne, or Jerusalem, and never see any of you again!\nHow can you, Meg! After I've",", a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.\n\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\nanswer.\n\n\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\" he continued, in the\nsame unemotional voice. \"Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"","could not forget the shock he had received in the old loft five\nor six weeks ago, and would have agreed if he had been bidden to take\nher for a sojourn in the Sahara.\n\nThe doctor had told him the mischief done to her lungs was serious.\n\n\"I won't say she will ultimately die of consumption,\" he had said,\n\"but there is always a danger of that vile disease in these nasty\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever","vision of his father crossed his mind.\n\n\"He won't know, of course,\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\nmanner. \"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\npresently I'll go back to school.\" She sank down among the straw\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\n\n\"How far is it from your school?\" he said at last.","Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\n\n\"Next Monday,\" he said slowly--\"next Monday morning you will\ngo to boarding school. Est","a change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\"\n\nWith this dread removed, Judy mended more rapidly, surprising even\nthe doctor with her powers of recuperation.\n\nIn three weeks she was about the house again, thin and great-eyed,\nbut full of nonsense and even mischief once more. The doctor's visits\nceased; he said she had made a good recovery so far, but should\nhave change of surroundings, and be taken a long way from sea air.\n\n\"Let","'t to go to school,\" Judy continued, thinking it rapidly out.\n\"Two of you could go and get some food. Tell Martha you are all\ngoing for a picnic--she'll be glad enough not to have dinner to\nset--then you go on. Two others can watch if the coast's clear\nwhile I get down and across the paddocks, and once we're at the\ncorner of the road we're safe.\"\n\nIt seemed feasible enough, and in a very short time the preparations\nwere all made. Pip was mount","Judy again.\n\nShe did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt down\nand shook her shoulder gently.\n\n\"Here's some things, Judy--ain't you goin' to eat them?\"\n\nShe shook her head very slightly.\n\n\"Have some corned beef, or some currants; there's some peel, too, if\nyou'd rather.\"\n\nShe shook her head again. \"Do take them away,\" she said, with a\nlittle moan.\n\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his","?\" he said, blinking it away.\n\nAnd the girl gave her old bright look up at him. \"Sure and they\nkeep no pony but shank's at school,\" she said; \"were you afther\nthinkin' I should charter a balloon?\"\n\nShe coughed again.\n\nMeg dropped down on her knees and put her arms round her little thin\nsister.\n\n\"Judy,\" she cried, \"oh, Judy, Judy! my dear, my dear!\"\n\nJudy laughed for a little time, and called","a minute or two, and\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\n\n\"How far is it from your school?\" he said at last.\n\n\"Seventy-seven miles.\" Judy shuddered a little. \"I got a lift\nin a luggage train from Lawson to Springwood, and a ride in a cart\nfor a little way, but I walked the rest. I've been nearly a week\ncoming,\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-","But Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining apple\nand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in\nsilence.\n\n\"Haven't you got any more?\" she said anxiously. Then he\nnoticed what a tall, gaunt, strange-looking Judy it was. Her\nclothes were hanging round her almost in tatters, her boots were\nburst and white with dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\nand her hair matted and rough.\n\n\"My golly!\" the little boy said again,","a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true",", but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true.\n\nJudy sat bolt upright in bed at the sight of Esther's sorrowful\nface.\n\n\"It's no good, dear; there's no way out of it,\" she said gently.\n\"But you'll go like a brave girl, won't you, Ju-Ju? You always\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\"\n\nJudy gulped down","time. Pip\nused to go to school late and come back early, cajoling notes of excuse,\nwhenever, possible, out of Esther. He even played the truant once, and\ntook a caning for it afterwards quite good-humouredly.\n\nJudy still looked pale and tired, and her cough was rather troublesome;\nbut she was fast getting her high spirits back, and was enjoying her\nadventure immensely.\n\nThe only drawback was the cribbed, cabined, and confined space of\nthe lo","Judy,\" he said gently, \"but the others are\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\"\n\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\n\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\n\n\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\" she said with a sob. \"They might\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\"\n\n\"Pip's gone fishing,\" he said, \"and Nell's carrying the basket","But Judy's hunger! Nothing to eat since yesterday morning!\n\nHe remembered, with a feeling of pain even now, the horrible\nsinking sensation he had experienced last week when for punishment\nhe had been sent to bed without his tea. And Judy had forgone\nthree meals! He shut his lips tightly, and a light of almost\nheroic resolve came into his eyes. Round at the side of the house\nwas the window to the pantry; he had often gazed longingly up at it,\nbut had never ventured to attempt the ascent, for there was"],["a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\nthat were Judy'","Judy,\" he said gently, \"but the others are\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\"\n\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\n\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\n\n\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\" she said with a sob. \"They might\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\"\n\n\"Pip's gone fishing,\" he said, \"and Nell's carrying the basket","in and taken to her bed long ago.\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\nthat were Judy's characteristics.\n\n\"Didn't you have any pain?\" he asked, quite taken aback to find such\nspirits and so serious a condition together.\n\n\"H'm, in my side sometimes,\" she answered carelessly. \"How long\nwill it be before I can get up, Doctor?\" She used to ask the latter\nquestion of him every morning, though, if the truth were known, she\nfelt secretly","a change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\"\n\nWith this dread removed, Judy mended more rapidly, surprising even\nthe doctor with her powers of recuperation.\n\nIn three weeks she was about the house again, thin and great-eyed,\nbut full of nonsense and even mischief once more. The doctor's visits\nceased; he said she had made a good recovery so far, but should\nhave change of surroundings, and be taken a long way from sea air.\n\n\"Let","could not forget the shock he had received in the old loft five\nor six weeks ago, and would have agreed if he had been bidden to take\nher for a sojourn in the Sahara.\n\nThe doctor had told him the mischief done to her lungs was serious.\n\n\"I won't say she will ultimately die of consumption,\" he had said,\n\"but there is always a danger of that vile disease in these nasty\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever","her head again. \"Do take them away,\" she said, with a\nlittle moan.\n\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his small, heated face.\n\n\"An' I've half killed myself to get them! Well, you ARE a mean girl!\"\nhe said.\n\n\"Oh, DO go away,\": Judy moaned, moving her head restlessly from\nside to side. \"Oh, how my feet ache! no--my head, and my side--oh!\nI don't know what it is!\"\n\n\"I got","the difficulties. The place was very\nfar away certainly, but then it was Esther's old home, and she had\nnot seen it since her marriage. She would grow strong again there\nvery quickly.\n\n\"Oh, and Judy, too.\"\n\n\"Ah-h-h!\" he said.\n\nTwo of the lines smoothed themselves carefully from his brow.\n\n\"And Meg, because I mentioned she was looking pale.\"\n\nThe Captain placed the cigar back in the case. He forgot there was\nsuch a thing as gout.\n\n\"The","Judy's bed,\nsoft and warm, was in a corner; she had a chair to sit in, a\ntable to eat at, even a basin in which to perform her ablutions.\nAnd she had company all day; and nearly always all night. Once Meg\nhad stolen away, after fastening her bedroom door, and had shared the\nbed in the loft; once Nellie had gone, and the other night Pip had\ntaken a couple of blankets and made himself a shakedown among the straw.\nThey used to pay her visits at all hours","ily at a\ncertain plate, and refusing breakfast altogether; the General was\ncrashing his own mug and plate joyously together; and Bunty\nwas eating bread and butter in stolid silence.\n\nJudy, white-faced and dry-eyed, was sitting at the table, and Nell\nand Baby were clinging to either arm. All the three days between\nthat black Thursday and this doleful morning she had been obstinately\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days","\ncoming,\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-pity trickled\nfrom beneath her black lashes, and made a little clean mark down her\ncheeks. Bunty's throat swelled at the sight of them, he had never\nseen Judy cry as long as he could remember. He patted her thin\nhand, he rubbed his head against her shoulder, and said, \"Never\nmind, old girl,\" in a thick voice.\n\nBut that brought, half a dozen great","time. Pip\nused to go to school late and come back early, cajoling notes of excuse,\nwhenever, possible, out of Esther. He even played the truant once, and\ntook a caning for it afterwards quite good-humouredly.\n\nJudy still looked pale and tired, and her cough was rather troublesome;\nbut she was fast getting her high spirits back, and was enjoying her\nadventure immensely.\n\nThe only drawback was the cribbed, cabined, and confined space of\nthe lo","\n (B)--sure, and don't I lo-o-ove you and delaight to plaize you?\"\n\nHe went in again slowly, thoughtfully. Judy always mystified\nhim. He understood her the least of any of his children, and\nsometimes the thought of her worried him. At present she was only\na sharp, clever, and frequently impertinent child; but he felt\nshe was utterly different from the other six, and it gave him\nan aggrieved kind of feeling when he thought about it, which was\nnot very often.",", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\"\n\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \"Who on earth--what--\"\n\n\"Judy,\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \"She's in the shed,\n","in these nasty\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess\na capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.\nTake care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,\na grand woman.\"\n\nThe Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study\nbefore he could decide how he could best \"take care of her.\"\n\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and","a crisis, had fallen\nto catching flies, and was viciously taking off their wings.\n\nIt was a wretched meal: The bell sounded for the downstairs\nbreakfast, and Esther had to go. Everyone offered Judy everything\non the table, and spoke gently and politely to her. She seemed\nto be apart from them, a person not to be lightly treated in the\ndignity of this great trouble. Her dress, too, was quite new--a\nneat blue serge fresh from the dressmaker's hands; her boots\nwere blacked and bright","Judy again.\n\nShe did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt down\nand shook her shoulder gently.\n\n\"Here's some things, Judy--ain't you goin' to eat them?\"\n\nShe shook her head very slightly.\n\n\"Have some corned beef, or some currants; there's some peel, too, if\nyou'd rather.\"\n\nShe shook her head again. \"Do take them away,\" she said, with a\nlittle moan.\n\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his","and struggled up again.\nand staggered on.\n\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\nits slow way into her wrist. Only its two back legs were left out\nfrom under the skin, and for a long time she pulled and pulled without\nany success. Then it broke in two, and she had to leave one half in\nfor little Grandma and kerosene to extract on their return.\n\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and","week,\" she said, in a troubled\nvoice. \"You've got a horrid cough with sleeping outside, and I'm\nsure you're ill. We shall have to tell Father about it. I'll beg him\nnot to send you back, though.\"\n\nJudy started up, her eyes aflame.\n\n\"If you do,\" she said--\"if you do, I will run away this very night,\nand walk to Melbourne, or Jerusalem, and never see any of you again!\nHow can you, Meg! After I've","actual\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\ndespair. \"Judy's home!\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\n\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\n",", one would think I was going to take the child to be hanged,\nor at least was going to leave her in a penitentiary.\"\n\nA great dry sob broke from Judy's white lips.\n\n\"If you'll let me stay, Father, I'll never do another thing to vex\nyou; and you can thrash me instead, ever so hard.\"\n\nIt was her last effort, her final hope, and she bit her poor\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\n\n\"Let her stay--oh! do"],["and disappeared in the dips where rank grass\nand bracken flourished. The head station consisted of quite a little\ncommunity of cottages on the top of a hill. Years ago, when Esther\nwas no bigger than her own little General, there had been only a rough,\nred weather-board place on the hill-top, and a bark but or two for\nouthouses.\n\nAnd Mr. Hassal had been in the saddle from morning to night, and\nworked harder than any two of his own stockmen, and Mrs. Hassal had\nlaid aside","arm\non the box seat, and seeing still nothing but an endless vista of\ngum trees. \"I thought, you said we were there, Esther.\"\n\n\"Oh, the front door is not quite so near the gate as at Misrule,\"\nshe said. And indeed it was not.\n\nIt was fifteen minutes before they even saw the chimneys, then there\nwas another gate to be opened. A gravel drive now trimly kept,\nhigh box round the flower-beds, a wilderness of rose bushes that\npleased Meg's eye, two chip","his master, and he had carried little trembling\nMrs. Hassal and tiny Esther to place of safety, and gone back\nand dealt the other one a blow on the head that stunned him\ntill assistance came.\n\nSo, of course, he had earned his right to the cottage and the\ndaily rations and the pipe that never stirred from his lips.\n\nTwo of the station hands lived in the other cottage when they\nwere not out in distant parts of the run.\n\nClose to the house was a long weather-board building with a heavy,\npadlocked door","\n\nMrs. Hassal told him they were a mile away, down by the creek,\nwhere the sheep were washed and sheared at the proper season. But\nthe heat was too much to make even Pip want to go just then, so they\nattached themselves to Mr. Hassal, leaving little grandma with\nEsther, the General, and Baby, and went over to the brick stables\nnear.\n\nThere were three or four buggies under cover, but no horses at all,\nthey were farther afield. Across the paddock they went","pipe like Tettawonga and the rest of the men his happiness would be\ncomplete and his manhood attained.\n\nHe reached home as tired as \"a dozen dogs and a dingo,\" and\nentertained his sisters and Bunty with a graphic account of the\nday's proceedings, dwelling lengthily on his own prowess and the\nmanifold perils he had escaped.\n\nThe next day both Esther and Judy rode with the others to the yards\nto see the departures.\n\nThe best of the contingent, which Mr. Hassal had only wanted","\n\nBut it was a very damp, miserable drive, and the General wept with\nhardly a break from start to finish, greatly to Esther's vexation,\nfor it was his first introduction to his grandfather.\n\nAt last, when everyone was beginning to feel the very end of patience\nhad come, a high white gate broke the monotony of dripping wet\nfences.\n\n\"Home!\" Esther said joyfully. She jumped the General up and down on\nher knee.\n\n\"Little Boy Blue, Mum fell off that gate when she was three,\"","the distance on three sides was a blue hill line and\nblue soft trees.\n\nAnd up near the house the trees were green and beautiful, and the\nflowers a blaze of colour.\n\nBut all the stretching plain between was brown. Brown burnt grass\nwith occasional patches of dull green, criss-crossed here and there\nwith fences; that ran up the little hills that in places broke the\nplain's straight line, and disappeared in the dips where rank grass\nand bracken flourished. The head station consisted of quite a little\ncommunity of cott","in the saddle from morning to night, and\nworked harder than any two of his own stockmen, and Mrs. Hassal had\nlaid aside her girlish accomplishments, her fancy work, her guitar,\nher water-colours, and had scrubbed and cooked and washed as many a\nsettler's wife has done before, until the anxiously watched wool\nmarket had brought them better days.\n\nThen a big stone cottage reared itself slowly right in front of the\nlittle old place with its bottle-bordered garden plot, where nothing\nmore aristocratic than pig's","\nseemed no one had come to meet them.\n\nThe sound of wet wheels slushing through puddles, the crack of a whip,\nthe even falling of horses' feet, and they were all outside again,\nlooking beyond the white railway palings to the road.\n\nThere were a big, covered waggonette driven by a wide yellow oil-skin\nwith a man somewhere in its interior, and a high buggy, from which an\nimmensely tall man was climbing.\n\n\"Father!\"\n\nEsther rushed out into the rain. She put her arms",", lived in one, and did little else than\nsmoke and give his opinion on the weather every morning.\n\nTwenty years ago he had helped to make a steady foundation for\nthe red cottage that had arrived ready built on a bullock-dray.\n\nFifteen years ago he had killed with his tomahawk one of two\nbushrangers who were trying to pick up Yarrahappini in the\nabsence of his master, and he had carried little trembling\nMrs. Hassal and tiny Esther to place of safety, and gone back\nand dealt the","able on horseback. Nellie was disappointed in the sheep,\nexceedingly so. She had expected to find great snow-white beautiful\ncreatures that would be tame and allow her to put ribbon on their\nnecks and lead them about.\n\nFrom the hill-top the second morning she saw paddock after paddock,\neach with a brown, slowly moving mass; she ran down through the\nsunshine with Bunty to view them more closely.\n\n\"Oh, WHAT a shame!\" she exclaimed, actual tears of disappointment\nspringing to her eyes","Judy and Pip could\nnot hear, and was given a ruggy horse that had carried Mrs. Hassal\neighteen years ago. Each animal was to be at the complete disposal\nof the young people during their stay at Yarrahappini, but the rides\nwould have to take place before breakfast or after tea, they were told,\nif they wanted any pleasure out of them; the rest of the day was\nunbearable on horseback. Nellie was disappointed in the sheep,\nexceedingly so. She had expected to find great snow-white beautiful","calling forth a word or two of \"foreign language,\" when\nEsther came in with a smile on her lips and an open letter in her\nhands.\n\n\"From Mother,\" she said. \"Yarrahappini's a wilderness, it seems, and\nshe wants me to go up, and take the General with me, for a few weeks.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" he said.\n\nIt would certainly solve one of the difficulties. The place was very\nfar away certainly, but then it was Esther's old home, and she had\nnot seen it since","doubt if they will be back before the sun goes down, if they\ndon't go a little quicker,\" Mr. Gillet said; \"it is lunch-time\nnow.\"\n\nThey were in a great grassed paddock that at one end fell abruptly\ndown to the ravine and swamp lands known as \"Duck Water.\"\n\nA belt of great trees made a shade at one side, and along the other\nwas the barbed-wire fence that showed they had not got away from the\nYarrahappini estate even yet: higher up was the lonely bark hut of","\nbread, only rations of flour to make damper for themselves. Then\nwe give them a fixed, quantity of meat, tea, sugar, tobacco,\ncandles, soap, and one or two other things.\"\n\n\"Where do you keep the wool and things?\" said Pip, who had a soul\nabove home-made soap and metal dips for candles; \"I can't see any\nshed or anything.\"\n\nMrs. Hassal told him they were a mile away, down by the creek,\nwhere the sheep were washed and sheared at the","\n\n\nThey went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her\ndays, \"would go the softlier, sadlier\" because of the price that\nhad been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air\nof Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.\n\nSo when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor\nlittle girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill","-wife, but she would not hear of it.\n\nAt first they had tried living in the barracks, but after a time\nevery one in the officers' quarters rose in revolt at the pranks\nof those graceless children, so Captain Woolcot took a house some\ndistance up the Parramatta River, and in considerable bitterness\nof spirit removed his family there.\n\nThey liked the change immensely; for there was a big wilderness\nof a garden, two or three paddocks, numberless sheds for\nhide-and-seek, and","bed-wire fence that showed they had not got away from the\nYarrahappini estate even yet: higher up was the lonely bark hut of\none of the stockmen.\n\nThey went up in a body to speak to him before he joined the bullock\nteam, and to view his solitary dwelling.\n\nJust a small room it was, with a wide fireplace and chimney, where\nhung a frying-pan, a billy, a cup, and a spoon. There was a bunk in\none corner, with a couple of blue blankets on it, a",", and she bit her poor\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\n\n\"Let her stay--oh! do letter stay, we'll be good always,\" came\nin a chorus from the veranda. And, \"Let her stay, John, PLEASE!\"\nEsther called in a tone as entreating as any of the children.\n\nBut the Captain sprang into the dogcart and seized the reins from\nPat in a burst of anger.\n\n\"I think you're all demented!\" he cried. \"She'","their future professions,\nwhich were all to be of a pastoral nature.\n\nPip was going to be a stockman, and brand and draft cattle all the\ndays of his life. Judy was going to be his \"aide-de-camp\", provided\nhe let her stay in the saddle, and provided her with a whip just as\nlong as his own. Meg thought she should like to marry the richest\nsquatter in Australia, and have the Governor and the Premier come up\nfor shooting and \"things,\" and give balls to which all the people\n"],["it had swayed to and fro,\nrotten through and through; now there came up across the plain a puff\nof wind, and down it went before it. One wild ringing cry Judy gave,\nthen she leaped across the ground, her arms outstretched to the little\nlad running with laughing eyes and lips straight to death.\n\nThe crash shook the trees around, the very air seemed splintered.\n\nThey had heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\nhorrible thud.\n\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces","heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\nhorrible thud.\n\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\ntowards the sound!\n\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\nher arms spread out.\n\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\nlaid","then--ah, God!\n\nIt is so hard to write it. My pen has had only happy writing\nto-do so far, and now!\n\n\"You rogue!\" Judy called, pretending to run very quickly.\nThen the whole world seemed to rise up before her.\n\nThere was a tree falling, one of the great, gaunt, naked things that\nhad been ringbarked long ago. All day it had swayed to and fro,\nrotten through and through; now there came up across the plain a puff\nof wind, and down it",", a little shaken, mightily\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\nlaid him down, and gathered with the others close around Judy.\n\nOh, the little dark, quiet head, the motionless body, in its pink,\ncrushed frock, the small, thin, outspread hands!\n\n\"Judy!\" Pip said, in a voice of beseeching agony. But the only\nanswer was the wind at the tree-tops and the frightened breathings\nof the others.\n","and struggled up again.\nand staggered on.\n\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\nits slow way into her wrist. Only its two back legs were left out\nfrom under the skin, and for a long time she pulled and pulled without\nany success. Then it broke in two, and she had to leave one half in\nfor little Grandma and kerosene to extract on their return.\n\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and","actual\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\ndespair. \"Judy's home!\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\n\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\n","But Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining apple\nand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in\nsilence.\n\n\"Haven't you got any more?\" she said anxiously. Then he\nnoticed what a tall, gaunt, strange-looking Judy it was. Her\nclothes were hanging round her almost in tatters, her boots were\nburst and white with dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\nand her hair matted and rough.\n\n\"My golly!\" the little boy said again,","and presently Bunty\ncame in backward, lugging a great, strange thing.\n\nIt seemed to be five or six heavy pieces of board nailed together\nhaphazard.\n\n\"It's a chair,\" he explained, wiping the perspiration from his\nforehead. \"Oh! I'm going to put some canvas across it, of course,\nso you won't fall through; but I thought I'd show it you first.\"\n\nJudy's eyes smiled, but she thanked him warmly. \"I wasn't","were there still, the ham-bone and the pillow occupied\nthe same places; the only difference being the former had a black\ncovering of ants now, and a wind had been playing with the pillow,\nand had carried the feathers in all directions.\n\nHe crossed the floor, not softly, but just with his usual measured\nmilitary-step. Nothing moved. He reached the partition and looked\nover.\n\nJudy lay across the improvised bed, sleeping a sleep of utter\nexhaustion after her rapid flight from the river. She had a frock of\n","a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\nthat were Judy'","faded, and only an indistinct mass of soft black loomed across\nthe light. Behind the trees the fire was going out, here and there\nwere yellow, vivid streaks yet, but the flaming sun-edge, had dipped\nbeyond the world, and the purple, delicate veil was dropping down.\n\nA curlew's note broke the silence, wild, mournful, unearthly. Meg\nshivered, and sat up straight. Judy's brow, grew damp, her eyes\ndilated, her lips trembled.\n\n","of them would.\n\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\naround Judy's lace-up boot.\n\nBunty was standing, with a stunned look on his white face, behind\nthe stretcher. His eyes were on his sister's hair, but he did\nnot dare to let there wander to her face, for fear of what he should\nsee there. Nellie was moving all the time--now to the fence to strain\nher eyes down the road, where the evening shadows lay heavily, now\nto fling","ry as the others she could not feel,\nwith this disappointment at her heart, this shaken trust in human\nnature.\n\nHow weak he was, she thought, how ignoble!\n\nAll her pity was swept away in a young, large indignation.\n\nShe had hardly shaken hands when they had met in the morning,\nand all the long drive she was persistently cold towards him.\n\nAfter lunch the party became scattered. Judy took the General and\nwent over to the belt of trees; Pip and Bunty occupied themselves\nwith catching locust","a crisis, had fallen\nto catching flies, and was viciously taking off their wings.\n\nIt was a wretched meal: The bell sounded for the downstairs\nbreakfast, and Esther had to go. Everyone offered Judy everything\non the table, and spoke gently and politely to her. She seemed\nto be apart from them, a person not to be lightly treated in the\ndignity of this great trouble. Her dress, too, was quite new--a\nneat blue serge fresh from the dressmaker's hands; her boots\nwere blacked and bright","believed, had anyone told him previously, that\nhe could have done anything so absolutely noble, and the thought\ncomforted him even while the cuts and scratches smarted. He tried to\nstifle his sobs as he reached the shed, and even stuffed half a\nhandful of currants into his mouth towards that end.\n\nBut it was a very tearful, scratched, miserable face that bobbed up\nthe opening near Judy again.\n\nShe did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt down\nand shook her shoulder gently.\n\n","five behind to watch\nproceedings. Judy sat down with him on the last step.\n\n\"Boy want chuck-chuck, pretty chuck-chuck?\" she said insidiously.\n\n\"Chuck-chuck, chuck-a-chuck,\" he gurgled, looking all around\nfor his favourite friends.\n\n\"Dad got lots--all THIS many,\" said Judy, opening her arms very\nwide to denote the number in her father's possession. \"Boydie,\ngo get them!\"\n\n\"Chuck-chuck,\" crow",", but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true.\n\nJudy sat bolt upright in bed at the sight of Esther's sorrowful\nface.\n\n\"It's no good, dear; there's no way out of it,\" she said gently.\n\"But you'll go like a brave girl, won't you, Ju-Ju? You always\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\"\n\nJudy gulped down","Judy,\" he said gently, \"but the others are\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\"\n\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\n\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\n\n\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\" she said with a sob. \"They might\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\"\n\n\"Pip's gone fishing,\" he said, \"and Nell's carrying the basket","the stones and briars in the\nway of that particular pair of small, eager feet.\n\nAnd she had died, and Judy was stumbling right amongst them now,\nand her father could not \"be careful\" of her because he\nabsolutely did not know how.\n\nAs he went up the veranda steps again and through the hall, he was\nwishing almost prayerfully she had not been cast in so different a\nmould from the others, wishing he could stamp out that strange\nflame in her that made him so uneasy at times. He gave a great\n",", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\"\n\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \"Who on earth--what--\"\n\n\"Judy,\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \"She's in the shed,\n"],["people generally are who have quicksilver instead of blood in\ntheir veins; she had a small, eager, freckled face, with very,\nbright dark eyes, a small, determined mouth, and a mane of untidy,\ncurly dark hair that was the trial of her life.\n\nWithout doubt she was the worst of the seven, probably because she\nwas the cleverest. Her brilliant inventive powers plunged them all\ninto ceaseless scrapes, and though she often bore the brunt of the\nblame with equanimity, they used to turn","be found to\nhelp her, and bundle on the clothes of the two youngest in the\nmorning, but beyond that the seven had to manage for themselves.\n\nThe mother? you ask.\n\nOh, she was only twenty--just a lovely, laughing-faced girl, whom\nthey all adored, and who was very little steadier and very\nlittle more of a housekeeper than Meg. Only the youngest of the\nbrood was hers, but she seemed just as fond of the other six as\nof it, and treated it more as if it were a very entertaining\nkitten than"," Meg, the eldest, was only sixteen, and could not be\nexpected to be much of a disciplinarian, and the slatternly but\ngood-natured girl, who was supposed to combine the duties of\nnursery-maid and housemaid, had so much to do in her second\ncapacity that the first suffered considerably. She used to lay\nthe nursery meals when none of the little girls could be found to\nhelp her, and bundle on the clothes of the two youngest in the\nmorning, but beyond that the seven had to manage for themselves","saw it, tossed it in the air,\nand then asked someone to take it quickly.\n\nThe children dragged it all over the country with them, dropped\nit countless times, forgot its pelisse on wet days, muffled it up\nwhen it was hot, gave it the most astounding things to eat, and yet\nit was the healthiest, prettiest, and most sunshiny baby that\never sucked a wee fat thumb.\n\nIt was never called \"Baby,\" either; that was the special name of\nthe next youngest. Captain Woolcot had said,","\n\nIt was never called \"Baby,\" either; that was the special name of\nthe next youngest. Captain Woolcot had said, \"Hello, is this the\nGeneral?\" when the little, red, staring-eyed morsel had been put\ninto his arms, and the name had come into daily use, though I\nbelieve at the christening service the curate did say something\nabout Francis Rupert Burnand Woolcot.\n\nBaby was four, and was a little soft fat thing with pretty\ncuddlesome ways, great smiling eyes, and lips very","Bunty was still giving\nvent to spasmodic boos and hoos, Judy was whistling stormily,\nand the General, mulcted of the scissors, was licking his own\nmuddy shoe all over with his dear little red tongue.\n\nA sob rose in her throat, two tears welled up in her eyes and\nfell down her smooth, lovely cheeks. \"Seven of you, and I'm only\ntwenty!\" she said pitifully. \"Oh! it's too bad--oh dear! it\nis too bad.\"\n"," \"Come down the garden, Marguerite,\" she said,\ntaking no notice whatever of Baby, who had, with much difficulty,\nbeguiled her eldest sister into telling her the ever delightful\nlegend of the three little pigs.\n\n\"Oh, no, by the hair of my chiny-chin-chin, then I'll huff and\nI'll puff and I'll blow your house in,\" had only been said twice,\nand the exciting part was still to come.\n\nBaby looked up with stormy eyes.\n\n\"","yet, have I? He was a little like\nJudy, only handsomer and taller, and he was fourteen, and had as\ngood an opinion of himself and as poor a one of girls as boys of\nthat age generally have.\n\nMeg was the eldest of the family, and had a long, fair plait that\nBunty used to delight in pulling; a sweet, rather dreamy face,\nand a powdering of pretty freckles that occasioned her much\ntribulation of spirit.\n\nIt was generally believed in the family that she wrote poetry\n","\n\"Oh, shut up, and hang your grandmother!\" said Pip, brushing past\nher, and going a circuitous voyage to the shed lest she should be\nwatching.\n\nHe knelt down beside his little sister and fed her with morsels of\nchicken and sips of wine, and stroked her wild hair, and called\nher old girl fifty times, and besought her to eat just a little more\nand a little more.\n\nAnd Judy, catching the look in the brown, wet eyes above her, ate all\nhe offered, though the first mouthful",", who was curled up in an armchair, deep in\na book. But she said it mechanically, and only as a matter of\nduty, being three years older than Judy.\n\n\"Think of the times we could have if he didn't live with us,\"\nJudy continued, calmly disregardful. \"Why, we'd have fowl\nthree times a day, and the pantomime seven nights a week.\"\n\nNell suggested that it was not quite usual to have pantomimic\nperformances on the seventh day,","ened himself in her arms, and she was not strong enough to hold\nhim. Finally he dropped off into an exhausted sleep, drawing deep,\nsobbing breaths and little hiccoughs of sorrow.\n\nThen Bunty was discovered asleep on the floor with his head under a seat,\nand had to be lifted into an easier position; and Baby, bolt upright\nin a corner, was nodding like a little pink-and-white daisy the sun has\nbeen too much for.\n\nOne by one the long hours dragged away; farther and farther through\nthe silent,","hers, but she seemed just as fond of the other six as\nof it, and treated it more as if it were a very entertaining\nkitten than a real live baby, and her very own.\n\nIndeed at Misrule--that is the name their house always went by,\nthough I believe there was a different one painted above the\nbalcony--that baby seemed a gigantic joke to everyone. The\nCaptain generally laughed when he saw it, tossed it in the air,\nand then asked someone to take it quickly.\n\nThe children dragged it all over the country with them,","yet,\nand everyone felt in an uncomfortable state of suspense.\n\n\"Your father says you're a disgraceful tribe,\" said the young\nstepmother slowly, sitting down on the nursery rocking-chair\na day later. She had on a trailing morning wrapper of white\nmuslin with cherry ribbons, but there was a pin doing duty\nfor a button in one or two places and the lace was hanging\noff a bit at the sleeve.\n\n\"Meg, dear, you're very untidy, you know, and Judy's absolutely","want to go!\" The child was\ncrying now. \"Oh, Meg, I want to be alive! How'd you like to die,\nMeg, when you're only thirteen? Think how lonely I'll be without\nyou all. Oh, Meg! Oh, Pip, Pip! Oh, Baby! Nell!\"\n\nThe tears streamed down her cheeks; her chest rose and fell.\n\n\"Oh, say something, Meg!--hymns!--anything!\"\n\nHalf the book of \"Hymns Ancient and","\n\nBaby addressed herself to her porridge for one minute, but the\nnext her feelings overcame her, and, with a little wail, she rushed\nround the table to Judy, and hung on her arm sobbing. This\ndestroyed the balance of the whole company. Nell got the other arm\nand swayed to and fro in an excess of misery. Meg's tears rained\ndown into her teacup; Pip dug his heel in the hearthrug, and\nwondered what was the matter with his eyes; and even Bunty'","been proclaimed,\" said Judy dramatically: \"let us\nshave our heads and don sackcloth.\"\n\n\"Your father says he cannot allow such conduct to go unpunished,\nespecially as you have all been unusually tiresome lately;\ntherefore: you are all--\"\n\n\"To be taken away and hanged by the neck until we are dead!\"\n\n\"Be quiet, Judy. I have tried my best to beg you off, but it\nonly makes him more vexed. He says you are the untidiest, most\nunruly","that her father could\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\na chickenhearted baby.\n\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\nhe was doing all this to","ast seven,\nbefore it grew dusk.\n\n\"I am going to ask you for something that day, Meg,\" Andrew whispered\njust as they were parting. \"I wonder if I shall get it.\"\n\nMeg flushed in her nervous, conscious way, and wondered to herself\nfor a moment whether he intended to ask for a lock of her hair, a\nthing Graham had already obtained from Aldith.\n\n\"What?\" she said unwillingly.\n\n\"A kiss,\" he whispered.\n\nThe next minute the others had joined them, and there was no chance\nfor","one caressing little arm round her sister's neck.\n\n\"I will say Miff MacCarfy iss you will say ze uzzer little pig,\ntoo.\"\n\n\"Oh, send her away, Marguerite, do,\" Aldith said impatiently,\n\"I have an enthralling secret to tell you, and I'll have to go soon.\"\n\nMeg looked interested immediately.\n\n\"Run away, Baby, dear,\" she said, kissing the disappointed little\nface; \"go and play Noah's Ark with Bunty, and I'll finish the",", dear, we are forgetting; there's Mother, Judy, dear--you\nwon't be lonely! Can't you remember Mother's eyes, little Judy?\"\n\nJudy grew quiet, and still more quiet. She shut her eyes so she\ncould not see the gathering shadows. Meg's arms were round her,\nMeg's cheek was on her brow, Nell was holding her hands, Baby her\nfeet, Bunty's lips were on her hair. Like that they went with her\nright to the Great Valley, where there"],["Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\n\n\"Next Monday,\" he said slowly--\"next Monday morning you will\ngo to boarding school. Est","a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true","in these nasty\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess\na capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.\nTake care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,\na grand woman.\"\n\nThe Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study\nbefore he could decide how he could best \"take care of her.\"\n\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and","Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?\" he repeated.\n\n\"No, Father,\" she said.\n\nHer face had a worn, strained look that might have touched him\nat another time, but he was too angry to notice.\n\n\"No excuse or reason at all?\"\n\n\"No, Father.\"\n\nHe moved toward the opening. \"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\nwill come straight back with","vision of his father crossed his mind.\n\n\"He won't know, of course,\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\nmanner. \"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\npresently I'll go back to school.\" She sank down among the straw\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\n\n\"How far is it from your school?\" he said at last.","obstinately\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days; and she had\npretended to everyone, and her father, that she especially thought\nboarding school must be great fun, and that she should enjoy it\nimmensely.\n\nBut this morning she had collapsed altogether. All the time before,\nher hot childish heart had been telling her that her father could\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled",", one would think I was going to take the child to be hanged,\nor at least was going to leave her in a penitentiary.\"\n\nA great dry sob broke from Judy's white lips.\n\n\"If you'll let me stay, Father, I'll never do another thing to vex\nyou; and you can thrash me instead, ever so hard.\"\n\nIt was her last effort, her final hope, and she bit her poor\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\n\n\"Let her stay--oh! do","\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\nsee her. \"Is he saving up a lot of beatings for me? And shall I\nhave to go back the first week?\"\n\nEsther reassured her.\n\n\"You won't go back this quarter at all, very likely not next either,\nJudy dear. He says you shall go away with some of the others for\na change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\"\n\nWith this","that her father could\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\na chickenhearted baby.\n\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\nhe was doing all this to","Judy,\" he said gently, \"but the others are\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\"\n\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\n\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\n\n\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\" she said with a sob. \"They might\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\"\n\n\"Pip's gone fishing,\" he said, \"and Nell's carrying the basket","'t to go to school,\" Judy continued, thinking it rapidly out.\n\"Two of you could go and get some food. Tell Martha you are all\ngoing for a picnic--she'll be glad enough not to have dinner to\nset--then you go on. Two others can watch if the coast's clear\nwhile I get down and across the paddocks, and once we're at the\ncorner of the road we're safe.\"\n\nIt seemed feasible enough, and in a very short time the preparations\nwere all made. Pip was mount",", a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.\n\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\nanswer.\n\n\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\" he continued, in the\nsame unemotional voice. \"Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"",", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\"\n\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \"Who on earth--what--\"\n\n\"Judy,\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \"She's in the shed,\n",", but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true.\n\nJudy sat bolt upright in bed at the sight of Esther's sorrowful\nface.\n\n\"It's no good, dear; there's no way out of it,\" she said gently.\n\"But you'll go like a brave girl, won't you, Ju-Ju? You always\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\"\n\nJudy gulped down","But Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining apple\nand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in\nsilence.\n\n\"Haven't you got any more?\" she said anxiously. Then he\nnoticed what a tall, gaunt, strange-looking Judy it was. Her\nclothes were hanging round her almost in tatters, her boots were\nburst and white with dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\nand her hair matted and rough.\n\n\"My golly!\" the little boy said again,","\n (B)--sure, and don't I lo-o-ove you and delaight to plaize you?\"\n\nHe went in again slowly, thoughtfully. Judy always mystified\nhim. He understood her the least of any of his children, and\nsometimes the thought of her worried him. At present she was only\na sharp, clever, and frequently impertinent child; but he felt\nshe was utterly different from the other six, and it gave him\nan aggrieved kind of feeling when he thought about it, which was\nnot very often.","\nfather. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he\nwatched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber\nof his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?\n\n\"Judy,\" he said in a loud voice.\n\nThe closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness\ncleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.","dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\nand her hair matted and rough.\n\n\"My golly!\" the little boy said again, his eyes threatening\nto start out of his head--\"my golly, Judy, what have you been\ndoin'?\"\n\n\"I--I've run away, Bunty,\" Judy said, in a quavering voice.\n\"I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you all\nso badly.\"\n\n\"My jiggery!\" Bunty said.\n\n\"I've thought it","as hardly compatible with dignity. He remembered hearing\nrumours of missing furniture in the house, and almost a smile came\ninto his eyes as he saw the little old table with the spirit-lamp and\nteapot thereon, the bed-clothing and washing-basin. But a stern\nlook succeeded it. Were seventy-seven miles not sufficient obstacle\nto Judy's mischievous plans? How did she dare thus to defy him, a\nchild of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed\nominously, and he went down again","a pair of crochet\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\n\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance, and turned her face\nto the wall for the rest of the evening.\n\nThat was what had been hanging over her so heavily all this long\nfortnight in bed--the thought of school in the future.\n\n\"What's going to happen to me when I get better, Esther?\" she\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\nsee her. \"Is he saving up a lot of beatings"],["heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\nhorrible thud.\n\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\ntowards the sound!\n\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\nher arms spread out.\n\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\nlaid","and struggled up again.\nand staggered on.\n\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\nits slow way into her wrist. Only its two back legs were left out\nfrom under the skin, and for a long time she pulled and pulled without\nany success. Then it broke in two, and she had to leave one half in\nfor little Grandma and kerosene to extract on their return.\n\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and","neck, and kissed it till her lips ached.\n\nHe fought manfully against these troublesome proceedings, and at\nlast objected, with an angry scream, to being suffocated. So she\nflung back the clothes and got out of bed, leaving him to burrow\nabout among the pillows, and pull feathers out of a hole in one\nof them.\n\nShe dressed in a quick nervous fashion, did her hair with more\ncare than usual, and then picked up the General and took him along\nthe passage into the nursery. All the others were here,","the proper, penitent way.\nAnd then he put his darling arms round her neck and hugged her, and\nsaid \"Ju-Ju\" in a choking little voice, and patted her cheeks, and\ngave her a hundred eager, wide, wet kisses till she was better.\n\nThen they played chasings, and the General fell down twenty times,\nand scratched his little knees and hands, and struggled up again.\nand staggered on.\n\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\nits slow way","\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and was\ntravelling along as fast as ever his little fat legs would carry\nhim, thinking he was racing her. Just as she, started after him he\nlooked back, his eyes dancing, his face dimpled and mischievous, and,\noh! so dirty..\n\nAnd then--ah, God!\n\nIt is so hard to write it. My pen has had only happy writing\nto-do so far, and","now. We're in for it now, Pip--there'll be no\nquarter.\"\n\nPip groaned; then Judy stood up.\n\n\"Let's creep down as far as the engine,\" she said, \"and see if he\ndoes look very bad.\"\n\nThey made their way cautiously along the deck, and took up a\nposition where they could see without being seen. The dear\nlittle General was sitting on the seat next to his stern father,\nwho had a firm hold of the back of his woolly-pelisse. He was","General was sitting on the seat next to his stern father,\nwho had a firm hold of the back of his woolly-pelisse. He was\nsucking his little dirty hand, and casting occasional longing\nglances at his tan shoe, which he knew was delicious to bite.\nOnce or twice he had pulled it off and conveyed it to his mouth,\nbut his father intercepted it, and angrily buttoned it on again\nin its rightful place. He wanted, too, to slither off the horrid\nseat, and crawl all over the deck","while we go? Oh, it would be TOO bad to have to give it up\njust because of him. It's beginning to rain, too; we couldn't\ntake him with us.\"\n\nThey were at the foot of Barrack Hill now, and Pat told them\nthey must get out and walk the rest of the way up, or he would\nnever get the dogcart finished to take back that evening.\n\nPip tumbled out and took the General, all in a bunched-up heap,\nand Judy alighted carefully after him, the precious coat par","you, you dear old thing,\" said Miss Judy,\ndancing down the room and bestowing a pat on her sister's fair head\nas she passed. \"It's only the General, who's after havin' a bit\no' fun.\"\n\nShe lifted him up out of the high chair, where he had been sitting\ndrumming on the table with a spoon and eating sugar in the\nintervals.\n\n\"It's real action you're going for to see, General,\" she said,\ndancing to the door with him.\n\n\"Oh","more\ncare than usual, and then picked up the General and took him along\nthe passage into the nursery. All the others were here, and, with\nEsther, were evidently discussing her. The three girls looked\ntearful and protesting; Pip had just been brought to book for\nspeaking disrespectfully of his father, and was looking sullen;\nand Bunty, not knowing what else to do at such a crisis, had fallen\nto catching flies, and was viciously taking off their wings.\n\nIt was a wretched meal: The bell sounded","getting\nquite nervous about him lately--thinks he'll get broken.\"\n\nPip grumbled a minute or two, but the General gave a gurgling,\ncaptivating laugh and held up his arms, so he took him up and\nheld him while Judy clambered in.\n\n\"We can come back in the tram to the Quay, and then get a boat\nback,\" she said, squeezing the baby on the seat between them.\n\"The General loves going on the water.\"\n\nAway they sped; down the neglected carriage drive, out","distance away, talking in subdued voices.\n\nThere was nothing for them to do. The brown man had been talking--a\nrare thing for him.\n\nHe had soothed the General off to sleep, and laid him in the bunk\nwith the blue blanket tucked around him. And he had made a billy\nof hot strong tea, and asked the children, with tears in his eyes,\nto drink some, but none of them would.\n\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\naround Judy's lace-up boot","it's all over jam and things.\"\n\nJudy shot herself into the hall and returned with her ulster; she\nset the General on the floor for a minute while she donned it,\nthen picked him up and handed him up to Pip.\n\n\"He'll have to come, too,\" she said; \"I promised Esther I\nwouldn't let him out of my sight for a minute; she's getting\nquite nervous about him lately--thinks he'll get broken.\"\n\nPip grumbled a minute or two, but the General gave","s dress, fastening her own with it, and dropping\na curtsey.\n\nEsther reddened a little now.\n\n\"That's the General, Judy: he always pulls the buttons off my\nwrappers when I play with him. But I'm forgetting. Children,\nI have bad news for you.\"\n\nThere was a breathless silence. Everyone crowded round her knees.\n\n\"Sentence has been proclaimed,\" said Judy dramatically: \"let us\nshave our heads and don sackcloth.\"\n\n\"Your father says he cannot","and then sent his ball spinning\nover the ground in its direction \"to give it a jump.\" Nothing was\nfurther from his thoughts than an idea of hurting the animal, and\nwhen the ball struck it full on the leg, and it moved away limping,\nhe hastened down to it, white and anxious.\n\nHe could see he had done serious mischief by the way the poor\nthing held its leg up from the ground and quivered when he touched\nit. Terror seized him forthwith, and he turned hastily round with\nhis usual idea of hiding in his","levelling of brows, and pursing of lips, always meant deep\nand intricate calculation on his sister's part, as he knew full\nwell.\n\n\"Yes,\" Judy said quietly. \"I've got a plan that will do, I think.\"\nThen a sudden fire entered her manner.\n\n\"Who is the General's father? Tell me that,\" she said, in a\nrapid, eager way; \"and isn't it right and proper fathers should\nlook after their sons? And doesn't he deserve we should get\neven with him for","\n\nBut it was a very damp, miserable drive, and the General wept with\nhardly a break from start to finish, greatly to Esther's vexation,\nfor it was his first introduction to his grandfather.\n\nAt last, when everyone was beginning to feel the very end of patience\nhad come, a high white gate broke the monotony of dripping wet\nfences.\n\n\"Home!\" Esther said joyfully. She jumped the General up and down on\nher knee.\n\n\"Little Boy Blue, Mum fell off that gate when she was three,\"","and isn't it right and proper fathers should\nlook after their sons? And doesn't he deserve we should get\neven with him for doing us out of the pantomime? And isn't the\nAquarium too lovely to miss?\"\n\n\"Well?\" Pip said; his slower brain did not follow such rapid\nreasoning.\n\n\"Only I'm going to leave the General here at the Barracks for a\ncouple of hours till we come back, his father being the proper\nperson to watch over him.\" Judy grasped the General's","he'll poke his eyes out, bless him.\"\n\nThe young stepmother leaned back in her chair and looked round\nher tragically. She had never seen her husband so thoroughly\nangered, and her beautiful lips quivered when she remembered how\nhe had seemed to blame her for it all.\n\nMeg hadn't moved; the water was trickling slowly off Baby's\nclothes and making a pool on the floor, Bunty was still giving\nvent to spasmodic boos and hoos, Judy was whistling stormily,\nand the General, mul","ry as the others she could not feel,\nwith this disappointment at her heart, this shaken trust in human\nnature.\n\nHow weak he was, she thought, how ignoble!\n\nAll her pity was swept away in a young, large indignation.\n\nShe had hardly shaken hands when they had met in the morning,\nand all the long drive she was persistently cold towards him.\n\nAfter lunch the party became scattered. Judy took the General and\nwent over to the belt of trees; Pip and Bunty occupied themselves\nwith catching locust"],["\nand made to work, so they kept the fact religiously to\nthemselves.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nFowl for Dinner\n\n\n \"Oh, don't the days seem lank and long\n When all goes right and nothing wrong;\n And isn't your life extremely flat\n With nothing whatever to grumble at?\"\n\nI hope you are not quite deafened yet, for though I have got\nthrough the introductions, tea is not nearly finished, so we must\nstay in the nursery a little longer:","\"Yes, why shouldn't we?\" echoed little greedy Bunty; his eyes\nlighting up.\n\n\"What a lot it would take for all of us!\" said Meg, cheerfully\nattacking the bread loaf.\n\n\"We're only children--let us be thankful for this nice thick bread\nand this abundance of melting butter,\" said Judy, in a good little\ntone.\n\nPip pushed his chair back from the table.\n\n\"I'm going down to ask for some roast fowl,\" he said, with a look\n","LOVE fowl,\" said Nell longingly; \"I've a great mind to go\ndown and ask for a wing--I believe he'd give it to me.\"\n\nThese disrespectful children, as I am afraid you will have noticed,\nalways alluded to their father as \"he.\"\n\nNell took up another plate, and departed slowly to the lower\nregions. She followed into the dining-room at the heels of the\nhousemaid, and stood by the side of her father, her plate well\nbehind her.\n\n\"Well, my","steady little\nlegs.\n\n\"Are the children ALL possessed to-night, Esther?\" said the\nCaptain, as his youngest son clutched wildly at his leg and\ntried to climb up it.\n\nHe looked down into the little dirty, dimpling face. \"Well,\nGeneral, and to what do we owe the honour of your presence?\"\n\n\"Chuck-chuck, chuck-a-chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck,\" said the\nGeneral, going down promptly upon all fours to seek for the\nfeathered darlings","I HOPE he hasn't gone\ntoo; someway I don't think Father was very pleased, especially\nas that man was there.\"\n\nBut that small youth had done so, and returned presently\ncrestfallen.\n\n\"He wouldn't give me any--he told me to go away, and the man\nlaughed, and Esther said we were very naughty--I got some\nfeathered potatoes, though, from the table outside the door.\"\n\nHe opened his dirty little hands and dropped the uninviting\nfeathered delicacy out","wealthy families it seldom\nhappens that the parents dine in solemn state alone, while the\nchildren are having a simple tea in another room: they all\nassemble around the same board, and the young ones partake of the\nsame dishes, and sustain their parts in the conversation right\nnobly.\n\nBut, given a very particular and rather irritable father, and\nseven children with excellent lungs and tireless tongues, what\ncould you do but give them separate rooms to take their meals in?\n\nCaptain Woolcot, the father, in addition to this division",". \"Well?\" they\nsaid in a breath.\n\n\"You really are the most exasperating children,\" she said\nvexedly.\n\n\"But the pantomime--quick, Esther--have you asked him?\" they\ncried impatiently.\n\n\"The pantomime! He says he would rather make it worth Mr.\nRignold's while to take it off the boards than that one of you\nshould catch a glimpse of it--and it serves you very well right!\nMeg, for goodness' sake give Baby some dry clothes--just"," \"Oh, Esther, why couldn't you have had cow,\nor horse, or hippopotamus--anything but roast fowl?\"\n\n\"Couldn't you get round him, Esther?\" Meg looked anxiously at\nher.\n\n\"Dear Esther, do!\"\n\n\"Oh, you sweet, beautiful Essie, do try!\"\n\nThey clung round her eagerly. Baby flung her arms round her neck\nand nearly choked her; Nell stroked her cheek; Pip patted her\nback, and bes","ening babel of voices and an unmusical clitter-clatter of\ncrockery I will take you inside the room and introduce them to\nyou.\n\nNursery tea is more an English institution than an Australian one;\nthere is a kind of _bon camaraderie_ feeling between parents and\nyoung folks here, and an utter absence of veneration on the part of\nthe latter. So even in the most wealthy families it seldom\nhappens that the parents dine in solemn state alone, while the\nchildren are having a simple tea in another","wing, or bit of breast would do.\"\n\nThe Captain's brow darkened. \"What is the meaning of this? Pip\nhas just been to me, too. Have you nothing to eat in the\nnursery?\"\n\n\"Only bread and butter, very thick,\" sighed Nellie.\n\nEsther suppressed a smile with difficulty.\n\n\"But you had dinner, all of you, at one o'clock.\"\n\n\"Boiled mutton and carrots and rice pudding,\" said Nell mournfully.\n\nCaptain W",", though, from the table outside the door.\"\n\nHe opened his dirty little hands and dropped the uninviting\nfeathered delicacy out upon the cloth.\n\n\"Bunty, you're a pig,\" sighed Meg, looking up from her book.\nShe always read at the table, and this particular story was\nabout some very refined, elegant girls.\n\n\"Pig yourself--all of you've had fowl but me, you greedy things!\"\nretorted Bunty fiercely, and eating up his potato very fast.\n\n\"No,","after that a\nchair from the nursery, and a strip of carpet from the top landing,\nnot to mention such small things as a teapot, a spirit-lamp, cups and\nplates, half a horn, and a whole baking of gingerbread nuts.\n\nThe losses preyed upon Martha, for the things seemed to disappear\nwhile the children were in bed; and though she suspected them, and\nwatched them continually, she could get no clear proof of their\nguilt, nor even find any motive for them abstracting such things.\n\nAnd after the disappearance","t fair!\"\n\n\"But we had dinner at one o'clock, Pip, and yours is saved as\nusual,\" said Meg, pouring out tea with a lavish allowance of hot\nwater and sugar.\n\n\"Boiled mutton and carrots and rice pudding!\" returned her brother\nwitheringly. \"Why shouldn't we have roast fowl and custard and\nthings?\"\n\n\"Yes, why shouldn't we?\" echoed little greedy Bunty; his eyes\nlighting up.\n\n\"What a lot it would","But Judy's hunger! Nothing to eat since yesterday morning!\n\nHe remembered, with a feeling of pain even now, the horrible\nsinking sensation he had experienced last week when for punishment\nhe had been sent to bed without his tea. And Judy had forgone\nthree meals! He shut his lips tightly, and a light of almost\nheroic resolve came into his eyes. Round at the side of the house\nwas the window to the pantry; he had often gazed longingly up at it,\nbut had never ventured to attempt the ascent, for there was","\n\"Oh, shut up, and hang your grandmother!\" said Pip, brushing past\nher, and going a circuitous voyage to the shed lest she should be\nwatching.\n\nHe knelt down beside his little sister and fed her with morsels of\nchicken and sips of wine, and stroked her wild hair, and called\nher old girl fifty times, and besought her to eat just a little more\nand a little more.\n\nAnd Judy, catching the look in the brown, wet eyes above her, ate all\nhe offered, though the first mouthful","large portion on his plate.\n\n\"He couldn't very well refuse,\" he chuckled. \"Colonel Bryant\nis there; but he looked a bit mad--here, Fizz, I'll go you halves.\"\n\nJudy pushed up her plate eagerly at this unusually magnanimous\noffer, and received a very small division, a fifth part, perhaps,\nwith great gratitude.\n\n\"I just LOVE fowl,\" said Nell longingly; \"I've a great mind to go\ndown and ask for a wing--I believe he","to denote the number in her father's possession. \"Boydie,\ngo get them!\"\n\n\"Chuck-chuck,\" crowed the General delightedly, and struggling\nto his feet--\"find chuck-chuck.\"\n\n\"In there,\" whispered Judy, giving him a gentle push into the\nhalf-open dining-room door; \"ask Dad.\"\n\nRight across the room the baby tottered on fat, unsteady little\nlegs.\n\n\"Are the children ALL possessed to-night, Esther?\" said the\nCaptain, as his youngest son","holding out\nher left hand, since her right was occupied with the plate.\n\n\"What a little barbarian you are, Nell!\" laughed her father; but\nhe gave her a quick, annoyed glance. \"Where is your right hand?\"\n\nShe drew it slowly from behind and held out the cracked old plate.\n\"I thought perhaps you would give me some fowl too,\" she said--\"just\na leg or a wing, or bit of breast would do.\"\n\nThe Captain's brow darkened. \"What is the meaning of this? Pip\n","been proclaimed,\" said Judy dramatically: \"let us\nshave our heads and don sackcloth.\"\n\n\"Your father says he cannot allow such conduct to go unpunished,\nespecially as you have all been unusually tiresome lately;\ntherefore: you are all--\"\n\n\"To be taken away and hanged by the neck until we are dead!\"\n\n\"Be quiet, Judy. I have tried my best to beg you off, but it\nonly makes him more vexed. He says you are the untidiest, most\nunruly",", dear,\" she said, kissing the disappointed little\nface; \"go and play Noah's Ark with Bunty, and I'll finish the\npiggies to-night or to-morrow.\"\n\n\"But I want them NOW,\" Baby said insistently.\n\nMeg pushed her gently aside. \"No, run away, pet--run away at once\nlike a good girl, and I'll tell you Red Riding Hood, too, to-morrow.\"\n\nBaby looked up at her sister's guest.\n\n\"You are a horrid"],["\n\"I?\" he said, and looked astonished. \"Indeed, no. What makes you\nthink so, Miss Judy?\"\n\n\"I can hear it distinctly,\" she said. \"Your eyes are saying it,\nand your left ear, not to mention the ends of your moustache.\"\n\n\"Judy!\" reproved Meg, whom something had made strangely quiet.\n\nHe pretended to be alarmed--shut his eyes, held his left ear,\ncovered his moustache.\n\n\"What can they be saying?\" he said.","For the very next day, if occasion sufficiently strong offered,\nhe would fall again, and the very next night would creep up to\nsomebody and whimper, with his knuckles in his eyes, that he had\n\"t--t--told a s--s--story, boo--hoo!\"\n\nBy seven o'clock this particular evening he was miserably\nrepentant; several tears had trickled down, his cheeks and mingled\nwith the ink of the map he was engaged upon for Miss Marsh. He\nestablished himself at Meg's elbow,","mingled\nwith the ink of the map he was engaged upon for Miss Marsh. He\nestablished himself at Meg's elbow, and kept looking up into her\nface in a yearning love-and-forgive-me kind of way that she found\ninfinitely embarrassing; for she had begun to suspect, from his\nstrange conduct, that he had in some way learned the contents\nof her note, and was trying to discourage her from her enterprise.\nThe more he gazed at her the redder and more uncomfortable she\nbecame.\n\n\"You can",". And Judy, with a wrathful look in\nher eyes, was sitting on the nursery table, her knees touching her\nchin and her thin brown hands clasped round them.\n\n\"It's a shame,\" she said, \"it's a burning, wicked shame!\nWhat's the use of fathers in the world, I'd like to know!\"\n\n\"Oh, Judy!\" said Meg, who was curled up in an armchair, deep in\na book. But she said it mechanically, and only as a matter of\n","precluded such an idea,\nand, besides that, the General's gums were gradually disclosing\nwee white double pearls, and his health thereby was affected,\nand causing her too much anxiety to allow her, to notice Meg's\noppression of mind.\n\nBy the night decided upon, the child had worked herself up into a\nstrong state of excitement. Half-past six was the time settled\nupon, and, as she knew, it was broad daylight even then. She\nfelt she really dare not, could not go. Suppose her father","wonder in her round eyes.\n\"I've been hunting and hunting for you.\"\n\n\"What for?\" said Meg shortly.\n\n\"Oh, Dr. Gormeston and Mrs. Gormeston and two Miss Gormestons are in\nthe drawing-room, and I think they'll stay for ever and ever.\"\n\n\"Well?\" said Meg.\n\n\"And the General is ill again, and Esther says she won't leave him\nfor a second, not if Gog and Magog were down there dying to see\nher.\"\n\n\"Well?\" said Meg again","bye, little Miss Meg.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nConsequences\n\n\n \"However could you do it?\n Some day, no doubt, you'll rue it!\"\n\n\nMeg's troubles were not quite over, however, even yet. When she\ngot into the house Nellie met her in the hall and stared at her.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she said, a slow wonder in her round eyes.\n\"I've been hunting and hunting for you.\"\n\n\"What for?\" said Meg shortly.\n\n\"Oh","t leave him\nfor a second, not if Gog and Magog were down there dying to see\nher.\"\n\n\"Well?\" said Meg again.\n\n\"And Father is as mad as he can be, and is having to keep them\nall amused himself. He's sung 'My sweetheart when a boy' and\n'Mona,' and he's told them all about his horses, and now I s'pose\nhe doesn't know what to do.\"\n\n\"Well, I can't help it,\" Meg said wearily, and as if the subject\nhad",", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\"\n\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \"Who on earth--what--\"\n\n\"Judy,\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \"She's in the shed,\n","and encouraged him, and helped him to fight the world again,\nand gave him never a hard word or look, thinking he had had plenty.\nWhich sister's influence would be greater, Miss Meg?\"\n\nMeg's little soft mouth, was quivering, her eyes were on the ground,\nbecause the tears would have splashed out if she had lifted them.\n\n\"Oh-h-h!\" she said again. \"Oh, how very horrid I have been--oh-h-h!\"\n\nShe covered her face with her hands, for one of her quickly gathered\n","thinking of the pity of it. I imagined\nhow I should feel if my little sister Flossie ever fell in with\nsuch a girl, and began to flirt and make herself conspicuous,\nand I wondered would you mind if I spoke to you about it.\nAre you very angry with me, Miss Meg?\"\n\nBut Meg leaned her head against the rough fence and began to\nsob--little, dry, heartbroken sobs that went to the boy's warm\nheart.\n\n\"I oughtn't to have spoken as I did at first--I was","s steed had not a canter in it, it fell out that\nhe kept beside the slow and timid rider all the time.\n\n\"You remind me of a little sister I had who died,\" he said slowly to\nMeg once, after a long talk. \"Perhaps if she were alive now I should\nnot be quite so contemptible.\"\n\nMeg's face flushed scarlet, and a shamed look had come into her eyes.\nIt seemed altogether terrible to her that he should know she knew of\nhis failing.\n\n\"Perhaps it makes her","I'll get taken off,\" Miss Aldith would say as they started; and\nby the end of the time Meg would say longingly, \"How lovely it must\nbe to know crowds of gentlemen like you do.\"\n\nSometimes one or two of them would stop and exchange a word or two,\nand then Aldith would formally introduce Meg; often, however, the\nlatter, who was sharp enough for all her foolishness, would fancy\nshe detected a patronizing, amused air in these gentlemen's\nmanners. As, indeed, there often was; they were chief","doesn't know what to do.\"\n\n\"Well, I can't help it,\" Meg said wearily, and as if the subject\nhad no interest for her.\n\n\"But you'll just have to!\" Nell cried sharply, \"I've done my\nbest: he sent out and said we were to go in, and you weren't\nanywhere, so there was only Baby and me.\"\n\n\"And what did you do?\" Meg asked, curious in spite of herself.\n\n\"Oh, Baby talked to Miss Gormeston, and they asked me to play,\"","he said quietly; \"what\nhave you let that horrid MacCarthy girl spoil you for? For she is\nhorrid, though you may not think so.\"\n\nMeg did not speak or move, and he went on with a gentle earnestness\nthat she had not thought him capable of..\n\n\"I have watched her on the boat, systematically going to work to\nspoil you, and can't help thinking of the pity of it. I imagined\nhow I should feel if my little sister Flossie ever fell in with\nsuch a girl, and","ivered, and sat up straight. Judy's brow, grew damp, her eyes\ndilated, her lips trembled.\n\n\"Meg!\" she said, in a whisper that cut the air. \"Oh, Meg, I'm\nfrightened! MEG, I'm so frightened!\"\n\n\"God!\" said Meg's heart.\n\n\"Meg, say something. Meg, help me! Look at the dark, Meg. MEG,\nI can't die! Oh, why don't they be quick?\"\n","and laughed her\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\nabsence.\n\nAldith only lived about twenty minutes' walk from Misrule, so\nthe two girls were always together. Twice a week they went down\nto town in the river-boat to learn how to inquire, in polite\nFrench, \"Has the baker's young daughter the yellow hat, brown\ngloves, and umbrella of the undertaker's niece?\" And twice a\nweek, after they had","not think so? Still, perhaps we\ncan find a darker place farther on, and then I can kiss you without\ndanger. What is the matter?--are you always as quiet as this with\nAndrew?\"\n\n\"Oh, DON'T!\" said Meg, in a choking voice.\n\nThe mocking tone died instantly out of his voice, \"Miss Meg, you\nused to seem such a nice little girl,\" he said quietly; \"what\nhave you let that horrid MacCarthy girl spoil you for? For she is\nhorrid, though","had been sixteen, and a \"waist\" had\nbeen the most desirable thing on earth.\n\nOnce she had said unwittingly,\n\n\"What a nice little figure you are getting, Meg; this new\ndressmaker certainly fits better than Miss Quinn\"; and foolish\nMeg, with a throb of delight, had redoubled her efforts.\n\nLynx-eyed Judy would have found her out long ago, and laughed her\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\nabs","with the\nquick moisture in them, made up for the clumsy stumbling words of\nsympathy he tried to speak.\n\n\"Let us be friends always, Miss Meg,\" he said, as they parted at\nthe Misrule gate.\n\n\"Yes, let us,\" said Meg.\n\nAnd the firm, frank friendship became a beautiful thing in both their\nlives, strengthening Meg and making the boy gentler.\n\nPip became his laughing, high-spirited self again, as even the most\nloving boy will, thanks to the merciful making of young hearts;"],["dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\nand her hair matted and rough.\n\n\"My golly!\" the little boy said again, his eyes threatening\nto start out of his head--\"my golly, Judy, what have you been\ndoin'?\"\n\n\"I--I've run away, Bunty,\" Judy said, in a quavering voice.\n\"I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you all\nso badly.\"\n\n\"My jiggery!\" Bunty said.\n\n\"I've thought it","Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\n\n\"Next Monday,\" he said slowly--\"next Monday morning you will\ngo to boarding school. Est",", a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.\n\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\nanswer.\n\n\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\" he continued, in the\nsame unemotional voice. \"Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"","vision of his father crossed his mind.\n\n\"He won't know, of course,\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\nmanner. \"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\npresently I'll go back to school.\" She sank down among the straw\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\n\n\"How far is it from your school?\" he said at last.",", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\"\n\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \"Who on earth--what--\"\n\n\"Judy,\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \"She's in the shed,\n","'t to go to school,\" Judy continued, thinking it rapidly out.\n\"Two of you could go and get some food. Tell Martha you are all\ngoing for a picnic--she'll be glad enough not to have dinner to\nset--then you go on. Two others can watch if the coast's clear\nwhile I get down and across the paddocks, and once we're at the\ncorner of the road we're safe.\"\n\nIt seemed feasible enough, and in a very short time the preparations\nwere all made. Pip was mount","Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?\" he repeated.\n\n\"No, Father,\" she said.\n\nHer face had a worn, strained look that might have touched him\nat another time, but he was too angry to notice.\n\n\"No excuse or reason at all?\"\n\n\"No, Father.\"\n\nHe moved toward the opening. \"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\nwill come straight back with","a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true","Judy,\" he said gently, \"but the others are\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\"\n\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\n\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\n\n\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\" she said with a sob. \"They might\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\"\n\n\"Pip's gone fishing,\" he said, \"and Nell's carrying the basket","a minute or two, and\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\n\n\"How far is it from your school?\" he said at last.\n\n\"Seventy-seven miles.\" Judy shuddered a little. \"I got a lift\nin a luggage train from Lawson to Springwood, and a ride in a cart\nfor a little way, but I walked the rest. I've been nearly a week\ncoming,\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-","actual\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\ndespair. \"Judy's home!\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\n\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\n","her head again. \"Do take them away,\" she said, with a\nlittle moan.\n\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his small, heated face.\n\n\"An' I've half killed myself to get them! Well, you ARE a mean girl!\"\nhe said.\n\n\"Oh, DO go away,\": Judy moaned, moving her head restlessly from\nside to side. \"Oh, how my feet ache! no--my head, and my side--oh!\nI don't know what it is!\"\n\n\"I got","\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\nsee her. \"Is he saving up a lot of beatings for me? And shall I\nhave to go back the first week?\"\n\nEsther reassured her.\n\n\"You won't go back this quarter at all, very likely not next either,\nJudy dear. He says you shall go away with some of the others for\na change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\"\n\nWith this","But Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining apple\nand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in\nsilence.\n\n\"Haven't you got any more?\" she said anxiously. Then he\nnoticed what a tall, gaunt, strange-looking Judy it was. Her\nclothes were hanging round her almost in tatters, her boots were\nburst and white with dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\nand her hair matted and rough.\n\n\"My golly!\" the little boy said again,","in these nasty\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess\na capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.\nTake care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,\na grand woman.\"\n\nThe Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study\nbefore he could decide how he could best \"take care of her.\"\n\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and","and my head is\ngoing to Catherine wheels for want of it.\"\n\n\"Have some corned beef, Judy, dear--oh, Judy, don't be so silly and\nhorrid after I nearly got killed for you,\" Bunty said, trying with\ntrembling fingers to stuff a piece into her mouth.\n\nThe little girl rolled over and began muttering again.\n\n\"Seventy-seven miles,\" she said, \"and I walked eleven yesterday,\nthat makes eleven hundred and seventy-seven--and six the day before\nbecause my foot had a blister--","week.\"\n\nPip didn't think it could be done; Meg besought her to run no risks;\nbut Bunty and Nell were eager for it.\n\n\"Meg could talk to Father,\" Bunty said, \"and Pip could keep\nteasing General till Esther would be frightened to leave the room,\nand then me and Judy would nick down and have a run, and get back\nbefore you let them go.\"\n\nJudy shook her head.\n\n\"That would be awfully stale,\" she said. \"If I go, I shall stay","a pair of crochet\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\n\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance, and turned her face\nto the wall for the rest of the evening.\n\nThat was what had been hanging over her so heavily all this long\nfortnight in bed--the thought of school in the future.\n\n\"What's going to happen to me when I get better, Esther?\" she\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\nsee her. \"Is he saving up a lot of beatings","week,\" she said, in a troubled\nvoice. \"You've got a horrid cough with sleeping outside, and I'm\nsure you're ill. We shall have to tell Father about it. I'll beg him\nnot to send you back, though.\"\n\nJudy started up, her eyes aflame.\n\n\"If you do,\" she said--\"if you do, I will run away this very night,\nand walk to Melbourne, or Jerusalem, and never see any of you again!\nHow can you, Meg! After I've","\n\nJudy shook her head.\n\n\"That would be awfully stale,\" she said. \"If I go, I shall stay\ndown some time. Why shouldn't we have a picnic down at the river?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, let's!\" Bunty cried, with sparkling eyes.\n\n\"I'm sure we could manage it especially as it's Saturday, and Pip\nhasn't to go to school,\" Judy continued, thinking it rapidly out.\n\"Two of you could go and get some food. Tell Martha you"],["yet,\nand everyone felt in an uncomfortable state of suspense.\n\n\"Your father says you're a disgraceful tribe,\" said the young\nstepmother slowly, sitting down on the nursery rocking-chair\na day later. She had on a trailing morning wrapper of white\nmuslin with cherry ribbons, but there was a pin doing duty\nfor a button in one or two places and the lace was hanging\noff a bit at the sleeve.\n\n\"Meg, dear, you're very untidy, you know, and Judy's absolutely","y: that young person was too downright, too sensible, too much\nof a child and a boy--she would never dare to tell her anything of\nthe sort. She could fancy the scorn in her sister's large clear\neyes, the ringing laughter such a tale would evoke, the scathing,\nclever ridicule that would fall on her shrinking shoulders. Not\nEsther: her very position as stepmother precluded such an idea,\nand, besides that, the General's gums were gradually disclosing\nwee white double pearls, and","you\nshould catch a glimpse of it--and it serves you very well right!\nMeg, for goodness' sake give Baby some dry clothes--just look\nat her; and, Judy, if you have any feeling for me, take off\nthat frock. Bunty, you wicked boy, I'll call your father if\nyou don't stop that noise. Nell, take the scissors from the\nGeneral, he'll poke his eyes out, bless him.\"\n\nThe young stepmother leaned back in her chair and looked round\nher tragically. ","regarding her almost\ngloomily from the sofa, where the little figure lay in its\ncrumpled muslin dress, and her heart told her these children\nwere not receiving a mother's care at her hands.\n\nAfterwards, when Meg was safely in bed and the excitement\nall over, she went up to her husband almost timidly.\n\n\"I'm only twenty; Jack; don't be too hard on me!\" she said\nwith a little sob in her voice. \"I can't be all to them that\nshe was, can I?\"\n\nHe","as hardly compatible with dignity. He remembered hearing\nrumours of missing furniture in the house, and almost a smile came\ninto his eyes as he saw the little old table with the spirit-lamp and\nteapot thereon, the bed-clothing and washing-basin. But a stern\nlook succeeded it. Were seventy-seven miles not sufficient obstacle\nto Judy's mischievous plans? How did she dare thus to defy him, a\nchild of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed\nominously, and he went down again","boy any longer, for she\ncouldn't, so there.\n\nThe Captain took an angry step into the pantry and gave a roar of\ncommand for Bunty to come down.\n\nThe boy dropped in an agony of dread and shrinking.\n\n\"Always his hands a-pickin' and stealin' and his tongue a-lyin',\"\nsaid Martha Tomlinson, gazing unkindly at the unhappy child.\n\nTwo, three, four, five angry cuts from the riding-whip in the\nCaptain's hands, and Bun","dare thus to defy him, a\nchild of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed\nominously, and he went down again and strode heavily back to the\nhouse.\n\n\"Esther!\" he called, in a vibrating voice at the foot of the\nstairs.\n\nAnd \"Coming, dear--half a minute,\" floated down in response.\n\nHalf a minute passed ten times, and then she came, the beautiful young\nmother with her laughing-faced wee son in her arms. Her eyes looked\nso tender; and soft, and loving","saying to herself: there would be no danger\nof being seen then; she could slip out of the house without any\ndifficulty, and run through the paddocks under cover of the\nkindly dusk; whereas if it was light, and she tried to creep away,\nat least two or three of the children would fly after her and\noffer generously to \"come too.\"\n\nAt last, too afraid to go in the light, and unwilling for Aldith\nto reproach her for not going at all, she did in her excitement\nand desperation a thing so questionable","\nfather. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he\nwatched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber\nof his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?\n\n\"Judy,\" he said in a loud voice.\n\nThe closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness\ncleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.","the stones and briars in the\nway of that particular pair of small, eager feet.\n\nAnd she had died, and Judy was stumbling right amongst them now,\nand her father could not \"be careful\" of her because he\nabsolutely did not know how.\n\nAs he went up the veranda steps again and through the hall, he was\nwishing almost prayerfully she had not been cast in so different a\nmould from the others, wishing he could stamp out that strange\nflame in her that made him so uneasy at times. He gave a great\n"," Meg, the eldest, was only sixteen, and could not be\nexpected to be much of a disciplinarian, and the slatternly but\ngood-natured girl, who was supposed to combine the duties of\nnursery-maid and housemaid, had so much to do in her second\ncapacity that the first suffered considerably. She used to lay\nthe nursery meals when none of the little girls could be found to\nhelp her, and bundle on the clothes of the two youngest in the\nmorning, but beyond that the seven had to manage for themselves","\"Oh, Jack!\" Esther said reproachfully.\n\n\"Oblige me by not interfering,\" he said; \"allow me a little\nliberty with my own children, Esther. He is an untruthful little\nvagabond; I am ashamed to own him for my son.\"\n\nAnd Esther, reflecting on the many shiftinesses of her stepson, was\nable to console herself with the hope that it would do him good.\n\nThey went a shortcut through the bush to avoid the public road, and\nthe blue,","s steed had not a canter in it, it fell out that\nhe kept beside the slow and timid rider all the time.\n\n\"You remind me of a little sister I had who died,\" he said slowly to\nMeg once, after a long talk. \"Perhaps if she were alive now I should\nnot be quite so contemptible.\"\n\nMeg's face flushed scarlet, and a shamed look had come into her eyes.\nIt seemed altogether terrible to her that he should know she knew of\nhis failing.\n\n\"Perhaps it makes her","be found to\nhelp her, and bundle on the clothes of the two youngest in the\nmorning, but beyond that the seven had to manage for themselves.\n\nThe mother? you ask.\n\nOh, she was only twenty--just a lovely, laughing-faced girl, whom\nthey all adored, and who was very little steadier and very\nlittle more of a housekeeper than Meg. Only the youngest of the\nbrood was hers, but she seemed just as fond of the other six as\nof it, and treated it more as if it were a very entertaining\nkitten than","that her father could\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\na chickenhearted baby.\n\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\nhe was doing all this to","he'll poke his eyes out, bless him.\"\n\nThe young stepmother leaned back in her chair and looked round\nher tragically. She had never seen her husband so thoroughly\nangered, and her beautiful lips quivered when she remembered how\nhe had seemed to blame her for it all.\n\nMeg hadn't moved; the water was trickling slowly off Baby's\nclothes and making a pool on the floor, Bunty was still giving\nvent to spasmodic boos and hoos, Judy was whistling stormily,\nand the General, mul","\nwith the broomstick.\"\n\nThey watched the train of her yellow' silk dress disappear into\nthe dining-room again, and returned slowly to the nursery and\ntheir interrupted tea.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nVirtue Not Always Rewarded\n\n\nIt was not to be expected that such an occurrence could be passed\nentirely over, but then again it is difficult to punish seven\nchildren at the same time. At first Captain Woolcot had requested\nEsther to ask Miss Marsh, the governess, to give them all","him for his pains.\n\nEsther would do her best, beg as she had never done before, coax,\nbeseech, wheedle, threaten; and they let her go at last with that\nassurance.\n\n\"Only I'd advise you all to be preternaturally good and quiet\nall day,\" she said, looking back from the doorway. \"That would\nhave most effect with him, and he is going to be at home all day.\"\n\nGOOD! It was absolutely painful to witness the virtue of those\nchildren for the rest of the","\n (B)--sure, and don't I lo-o-ove you and delaight to plaize you?\"\n\nHe went in again slowly, thoughtfully. Judy always mystified\nhim. He understood her the least of any of his children, and\nsometimes the thought of her worried him. At present she was only\na sharp, clever, and frequently impertinent child; but he felt\nshe was utterly different from the other six, and it gave him\nan aggrieved kind of feeling when he thought about it, which was\nnot very often.","over her mouth and held her by the hair while Esther told the\nnews.\n\n\"None of you are to go to the pantomime. The seats were taken for\nThursday night, and now, you very foolish children, you will all\nhave to stay at home.\"\n\nThere was a perfect howl of dismay for a minute or two. They had\nall been looking forward to this treat for nearly a month, and the\ndisappointment was a really bitter one to them all.\n\n\"Oh, I say, Esther, that's too bad, really!"],["vision of his father crossed his mind.\n\n\"He won't know, of course,\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\nmanner. \"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\npresently I'll go back to school.\" She sank down among the straw\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\n\n\"How far is it from your school?\" he said at last.","Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\n\n\"Next Monday,\" he said slowly--\"next Monday morning you will\ngo to boarding school. Est","Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?\" he repeated.\n\n\"No, Father,\" she said.\n\nHer face had a worn, strained look that might have touched him\nat another time, but he was too angry to notice.\n\n\"No excuse or reason at all?\"\n\n\"No, Father.\"\n\nHe moved toward the opening. \"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\nwill come straight back with","\nfather. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he\nwatched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber\nof his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?\n\n\"Judy,\" he said in a loud voice.\n\nThe closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness\ncleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.",", one would think I was going to take the child to be hanged,\nor at least was going to leave her in a penitentiary.\"\n\nA great dry sob broke from Judy's white lips.\n\n\"If you'll let me stay, Father, I'll never do another thing to vex\nyou; and you can thrash me instead, ever so hard.\"\n\nIt was her last effort, her final hope, and she bit her poor\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\n\n\"Let her stay--oh! do","\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\nsee her. \"Is he saving up a lot of beatings for me? And shall I\nhave to go back the first week?\"\n\nEsther reassured her.\n\n\"You won't go back this quarter at all, very likely not next either,\nJudy dear. He says you shall go away with some of the others for\na change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\"\n\nWith this","\"No, Father.\"\n\nHe moved toward the opening. \"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\nwill come straight back with me this moment,\" he said, in an even\nvoice. \"I shall take precautions to have you watched at school since\nyou cannot be trusted. You will not return home for the Christmas\nholidays, and probably not for those of the following June.\"\n\nIt was as bad as a sentence of death. The room swam before the girl's\neyes, there was a singing and rushing in her ears.\n\n\"",", a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.\n\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\nanswer.\n\n\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\" he continued, in the\nsame unemotional voice. \"Have you anything to say?\"\n\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\nlips.\n\n\"","father, and which was\nstill unconfessed, because the horse was seriously lame, and his\ncourage oozed away every time he thought of that riding-whip.\n\nPerhaps it was the reaction after the great excitement. Or it may\nhave been a rankling sense of injustice at the small glory his brave\ndeeds on Judy's behalf evoked from the others. They did not seem to\nattach any importance to them, and, indeed, laughed every time he\nalluded to them or drew public attention to his scars. Two or",". I wanted to see you all\nso badly.\"\n\n\"My jiggery!\" Bunty said.\n\n\"I've thought it all out,\" Judy continued, pushing back her hair\nin a weary moray. \"I can't quite remember everything just now,\nI am so tired, but everything will be all right.\"\n\n\"But what'll he say?\" Bunty said with frightened eyes, as a\nvision of his father crossed his mind.\n\n\"He won't know, of course,\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\n","a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true","and isn't it right and proper fathers should\nlook after their sons? And doesn't he deserve we should get\neven with him for doing us out of the pantomime? And isn't the\nAquarium too lovely to miss?\"\n\n\"Well?\" Pip said; his slower brain did not follow such rapid\nreasoning.\n\n\"Only I'm going to leave the General here at the Barracks for a\ncouple of hours till we come back, his father being the proper\nperson to watch over him.\" Judy grasped the General's","a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\nthat were Judy'","Judy,\" he said gently, \"but the others are\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\"\n\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\n\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\n\n\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\" she said with a sob. \"They might\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\"\n\n\"Pip's gone fishing,\" he said, \"and Nell's carrying the basket","as hardly compatible with dignity. He remembered hearing\nrumours of missing furniture in the house, and almost a smile came\ninto his eyes as he saw the little old table with the spirit-lamp and\nteapot thereon, the bed-clothing and washing-basin. But a stern\nlook succeeded it. Were seventy-seven miles not sufficient obstacle\nto Judy's mischievous plans? How did she dare thus to defy him, a\nchild of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed\nominously, and he went down again","in these nasty\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess\na capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.\nTake care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,\na grand woman.\"\n\nThe Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study\nbefore he could decide how he could best \"take care of her.\"\n\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and","no irreparable harm done, is\nthere? Yes, your father has gone away in a cab. He couldn't\nimagine how the little boy came on his bed, and, as he couldn't\nkeep him here very well, I suppose he has taken him home.\"\n\nSomething like a look of shame came into Judy's bright eyes,\n\n\"I am afraid I must have put my father to some inconvenience,\"\nshe said quietly. \"It was I who left the Gen--my brother here,\nbecause I didn't know what to do with him","a pair of crochet\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\n\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance, and turned her face\nto the wall for the rest of the evening.\n\nThat was what had been hanging over her so heavily all this long\nfortnight in bed--the thought of school in the future.\n\n\"What's going to happen to me when I get better, Esther?\" she\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\nsee her. \"Is he saving up a lot of beatings","sew or something. You like it better 'n Pip's, don't\nyou?\"\n\nJudy temporized skilfully, and averted offence to either by asking\nthem to put the presents with all the others near the head of the bed.\n\n\"What a lot of things you'll have to take back to school, Ju,\" Nell\nsaid, as she added her contribution in the shape of a pair of crochet\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\n\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance,","Judy had said solemnly, and all had promised so to conduct\nthemselves that their father's heart could not fail to be melted.\n\nPip put on his school jacket, brushed his hair, took a pile of\nschool books, and proceeded to the study where his father was\nwriting letters, and where he was allowed to do his home-lessons.\n\n\"Well, what do you want?\" said the Captain, with a frown. \"No,\nit's no good coming to the about that pup, sir--I won't have"],["a sentence of death. The room swam before the girl's\neyes, there was a singing and rushing in her ears.\n\n\"Come at once,\" the Captain said. Judy gave a little caught breath;\nit tickled her throat and she began to cough.\n\nSuch terrible coughing, a paroxysm that shook her thin frame and made\nher gasp for breath. It lasted two or three minutes, though she put\nher handkerchief to her mouth to try to stop it.\n\nShe was very pale when it ceased, and he noticed the","labelled with her name, a cold\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\nhe was doing all this to make it seem more real.\n\nBut now it was morning, and she could disbelieve it no longer.\nEsther had come to her bedside and kissed her sorrowfully, her\nbeautiful face troubled and tender. She had begged as she had\nnever done before for a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\nring",". Nell joined in in a little hysterical way, and\nBaby began to cry.\n\nMeg, white as death, picked her up and hurriedly began telling her\nthe story of the three bears for comfort.\n\nEsther looked a little puzzled, but, of course, never dreamt of\nconnecting the flying figure with Judy.\n\nAnd the Captain seemed delightfully blind and unsuspicious. He\nlay down on the grass and let the General swarm all over him; he\nmade jokes with Esther; he told several stories of his young","a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true","in these nasty\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess\na capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.\nTake care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,\na grand woman.\"\n\nThe Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study\nbefore he could decide how he could best \"take care of her.\"\n\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and","heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\nhorrible thud.\n\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\ntowards the sound!\n\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\nher arms spread out.\n\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\nlaid","Judy again.\n\nShe did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt down\nand shook her shoulder gently.\n\n\"Here's some things, Judy--ain't you goin' to eat them?\"\n\nShe shook her head very slightly.\n\n\"Have some corned beef, or some currants; there's some peel, too, if\nyou'd rather.\"\n\nShe shook her head again. \"Do take them away,\" she said, with a\nlittle moan.\n\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his","\n\n\nThey went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her\ndays, \"would go the softlier, sadlier\" because of the price that\nhad been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air\nof Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.\n\nSo when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor\nlittle girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill","passed, lay back exhausted.\n\n\"Do fetch some of the others,\" she called faintly, as his head was\ndisappearing. \"You're not much good alone, you know.\"\n\nHis head bobbed back a moment, and he tried to smile away the pain\nher words gave him, for just at that minute he would have died for\nher without a murmur.\n\n\"I'm awf'ly sorry, Judy,\" he said gently, \"but the others are\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Jud",", a little shaken, mightily\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\nlaid him down, and gathered with the others close around Judy.\n\nOh, the little dark, quiet head, the motionless body, in its pink,\ncrushed frock, the small, thin, outspread hands!\n\n\"Judy!\" Pip said, in a voice of beseeching agony. But the only\nanswer was the wind at the tree-tops and the frightened breathings\nof the others.\n","ily at a\ncertain plate, and refusing breakfast altogether; the General was\ncrashing his own mug and plate joyously together; and Bunty\nwas eating bread and butter in stolid silence.\n\nJudy, white-faced and dry-eyed, was sitting at the table, and Nell\nand Baby were clinging to either arm. All the three days between\nthat black Thursday and this doleful morning she had been obstinately\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days",", but very\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\nindeed, was in a measure true.\n\nJudy sat bolt upright in bed at the sight of Esther's sorrowful\nface.\n\n\"It's no good, dear; there's no way out of it,\" she said gently.\n\"But you'll go like a brave girl, won't you, Ju-Ju? You always\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\"\n\nJudy gulped down","a corner at the far end, and\ndiscussed the state of affairs with much seriousness. Then Pip got\nup and, strolled about a little to relieve his feelings, coming\nback in a second with a white, scared face.\n\n\"He's on the boat,\" he said, in a horrified whisper.\n\n\"Where-where--where? what--what--what?\" Judy cried, unintentionally\nmimicking a long-buried monarch.\n\n\"In the cabin, looking as glum as a boiled wallaby, and","actual\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\ndespair. \"Judy's home!\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\n\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\n","\nfather. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he\nwatched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber\nof his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?\n\n\"Judy,\" he said in a loud voice.\n\nThe closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness\ncleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute\nhorror on her face.\n\n\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\" he said, very coldly.","it had swayed to and fro,\nrotten through and through; now there came up across the plain a puff\nof wind, and down it went before it. One wild ringing cry Judy gave,\nthen she leaped across the ground, her arms outstretched to the little\nlad running with laughing eyes and lips straight to death.\n\nThe crash shook the trees around, the very air seemed splintered.\n\nThey had heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\nhorrible thud.\n\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces","of them would.\n\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\naround Judy's lace-up boot.\n\nBunty was standing, with a stunned look on his white face, behind\nthe stretcher. His eyes were on his sister's hair, but he did\nnot dare to let there wander to her face, for fear of what he should\nsee there. Nellie was moving all the time--now to the fence to strain\nher eyes down the road, where the evening shadows lay heavily, now\nto fling","Judy,\" he said gently, \"but the others are\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\"\n\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\n\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\n\n\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\" she said with a sob. \"They might\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\"\n\n\"Pip's gone fishing,\" he said, \"and Nell's carrying the basket","distance away, talking in subdued voices.\n\nThere was nothing for them to do. The brown man had been talking--a\nrare thing for him.\n\nHe had soothed the General off to sleep, and laid him in the bunk\nwith the blue blanket tucked around him. And he had made a billy\nof hot strong tea, and asked the children, with tears in his eyes,\nto drink some, but none of them would.\n\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\naround Judy's lace-up boot","believed, had anyone told him previously, that\nhe could have done anything so absolutely noble, and the thought\ncomforted him even while the cuts and scratches smarted. He tried to\nstifle his sobs as he reached the shed, and even stuffed half a\nhandful of currants into his mouth towards that end.\n\nBut it was a very tearful, scratched, miserable face that bobbed up\nthe opening near Judy again.\n\nShe did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt down\nand shook her shoulder gently.\n\n"],["-scrub at the end was very quiet; there was not a rustle,\nnot a sound of a voice, not a sound of the affected little laugh\nthat generally told when Aldith was near.\n\nMeg stopped breathless, and peered among the bushes; there was a\ntall figure leaning against the fence.\n\n\"Andrew!\" she said in a sharp whisper, and forgetting in her\nanxiety that she never called him by his Christian name--\"where\nare the others? Hasn't Aldith come?\"\n\nThere was the smell of a cig","or little Meg! She was very miserable in these days, and yet it\nwas a kind of exquisite misery that she hugged to her to keep it\nwarm. No one guessed her secret. She would have died rather than\nallow even Aldith to get a suspicion of it, and accepted Andrew's\nnotes and smiles as if there was nothing more she wanted. But she\ngrew a trifle thin and large-eyed, and used to make copious notes\nin her diary every night, and to write a truly appalling quantity\nof verses, in which","the\nteasing.\n\nNowadays Meg spent a great deal of time in her bedroom, that she\nhad all to herself while Judy was away. In its privacy she\ntrimmed and retrimmed her hats, altered her dresses, read her\nnovels, and sat in front of the looking-glass with her hair down,\ndreaming of being quite grown up and in love. For just now both\nto Aldith, and herself that state of life seemed the only one\naltogether lovely and desirable. Meg used to curl herself up in a\nbig easy-","I'll get taken off,\" Miss Aldith would say as they started; and\nby the end of the time Meg would say longingly, \"How lovely it must\nbe to know crowds of gentlemen like you do.\"\n\nSometimes one or two of them would stop and exchange a word or two,\nand then Aldith would formally introduce Meg; often, however, the\nlatter, who was sharp enough for all her foolishness, would fancy\nshe detected a patronizing, amused air in these gentlemen's\nmanners. As, indeed, there often was; they were chief","t come,\" Aldith said, as they parted at her gate.\n\n\"I--you--Oh, Aldith, I don't see how I can come,\" Meg faltered,\nthe crimson in her cheeks again. \"I've never done anything like it\nbefore. I'm sure it's not right.\"\n\nBut the curl, in Aldith's lip made her ashamed of herself.\n\n\"You're just twelve, Marguerite;\" the young lady said calmly:\n\"you're not a bit more than twelve. You'","suggest improvements as he went along.\n\nMeg, who had almost severed her connection with Aldith, devoted\nherself to her sister, and waited on her hand and foot; she made her\nall kinds of little presents--a boot-bag, with compartments; a\nbrush-and-comb bag, with the monogram \"J.W.,\" worked in pink silk;\na little work-basket, with needle-book, pin-cushion, and all complete.\nJudy feared she should be compelled to betake herself to tidy habits\non","ences a friendship sprang up.\n\nAldith had three grown-up sisters, whom she aped in everything,\nand was considerably wiser in the world than simple-minded,\nromantic Meg.\n\nShe lent Meg novels, \"Family Herald Supplements\", \"Young Ladies'\nJournals\", and such publications, and the young girl took to them\nwith avidity, surprised at the new world into which they took her;\nfor Charlotte Yonge and Louisa Alcott and Miss Wetherall had hitherto\nformed her simple and wholesome fare.","\nshe detected a patronizing, amused air in these gentlemen's\nmanners. As, indeed, there often was; they were chiefly men\nwhom Aldith had met at dances and tennis in her own home; and\nwho thought that young lady a precocious child who wanted keeping\nin the schoolroom a few more years.\n\nOne day Aldith came to Misrule brimming over with mysterious\nimportance. \"Come down the garden, Marguerite,\" she said,\ntaking no notice whatever of Baby, who had, with much difficulty,\nb","fled madly away down the long\npaddocks, to the bit of bush beyond.\n\n\"Insufferable,\" Aldith muttered angrily, and it needed all Meg's\napologies and coaxings to get her into an amiable frame of mind\nagain, and to induce her to communicate the enthralling secret.\n\nAt last, however, it was imparted, with great impressiveness.\nAldith's eldest sister was engaged, engaged to be married! Oh!\nwasn't it heavenly? Wasn't it romantic?","and laughed her\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\nabsence.\n\nAldith only lived about twenty minutes' walk from Misrule, so\nthe two girls were always together. Twice a week they went down\nto town in the river-boat to learn how to inquire, in polite\nFrench, \"Has the baker's young daughter the yellow hat, brown\ngloves, and umbrella of the undertaker's niece?\" And twice a\nweek, after they had","one caressing little arm round her sister's neck.\n\n\"I will say Miff MacCarfy iss you will say ze uzzer little pig,\ntoo.\"\n\n\"Oh, send her away, Marguerite, do,\" Aldith said impatiently,\n\"I have an enthralling secret to tell you, and I'll have to go soon.\"\n\nMeg looked interested immediately.\n\n\"Run away, Baby, dear,\" she said, kissing the disappointed little\nface; \"go and play Noah's Ark with Bunty, and I'll finish the","in,\" had only been said twice,\nand the exciting part was still to come.\n\nBaby looked up with stormy eyes.\n\n\"Go away, Aldiff,\" she said.\n\n\"Miss MacCarthy,--Baby, dear,\" Meg suggested, gently, catching Aldith's\nhalf-scornful smile.\n\n\"ALDIFF,\" repeated Baby obstinately. Then she relented, and put\none caressing little arm round her sister's neck.\n\n\"I will say Miff MacCarfy iss you will say ze uzzer little","friend Meg, pronouncing that\nname to be \"too domestic and altogether unlovely.\"\n\nMeg glanced from her own waist to her friend's slender, beautiful\none, and sighed profoundly. \"What ought I to be?\" she said in a\nlow tone; and Aldith had answered, \"Eighteen--or nineteen,\nMarguerite, at the most; true symmetrical grace can never be\nobtained with a waist twenty-three inches round.\"\n\nAldith had not only made statements and comparisons, she had given\nher friend practical","elt-fitting dress body. To walk quickly was positive pain; to\nstoop, almost agony; but she endured it all with a heroism\nworthy of a truly noble cause.\n\n\"How long shall I have to go on like this, Aldith?\" she asked\nonce faintly, after a French lesson that she had scarcely been\nable to sit through.\n\nAnd the older girl answered carelessly, \"Oh, you mustn't leave\nit off, of course, but you don't feel it at all after a bit.\"\n\nWith which assurance Meg","chief charm, just to show its bright,\nwarm colouring more clearly. Aldith had, to her own infinite\nsatisfaction, brushed away her own \"bloom,\" and was at present\nbusily engaged in trying to remove Meg's, which was very soft\nand lovely before she touched it. The novels had taken away a\nlittle, and the \"Block\" a little more, but, Meg was naturally\nfreshminded, and it took time to make much difference. Just now,\nunder her friend's tutelage, she was being inducted into the\n","end of the boat--cigars at the beginning\nof term and a short, black, villainous-looking pipe at the end--and\nMeg used secretly to think how manly he looked, and to sigh profoundly.\n\nFor I may as well tell you now as later what this foolish little\nthing had done after a few months' course of Aldith and novels.\nShe had fallen in love as nearly as it is possible for sweet sixteen\nto do; and it was with Alan, who had no good looks nor pleasant\nmanners--not Andrew, who had speaking eyes, and","inea-pigs and canaries were progressing,\nand what was the very latest thing in clothes or boots the new\nretriever puppy had devoured.\n\nAnd Bunty used to bring in the white mice and the blind French\nguinea-pig, and let them run loose over the counterpane, and Pip did\nmost of his carpentering on a little table near, so she could see\neach fresh stage and suggest improvements as he went along.\n\nMeg, who had almost severed her connection with Aldith, devoted\nherself to her sister,","said. \"I'm glad you're going to, dear, it looked just a wee bit\ndowdy, didn't it?\" Meg coloured again.\n\n\"Have you done your French?\" she said, as she pulled open the\ngate.\n\n\"In a way,\" Aldith said carelessly. Then she put up her chin,\n\"Those frowzy-looking Smiths always make a point of having no\nmistakes; and, Janet Green, whose hats are always four seasons\nbehind the fashions; I prefer to","the paddocks together, and parted at a broken gate\nleading into the garden.\n\n\"I'll never flirt again while I live,\" she said with great\nearnestness, as he bade her good-bye; and he answered encouragingly,\n\"No, I am quite sure you won't--leave it to girls like Aldith, won't\nyou? you only wanted to be set straight. Good-bye, little Miss Meg.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nConsequences\n\n\n \"However could you do it?\n ","acing.\" She asked Aldith to suggest something,\nand that young person thought that vaseline and sulphur mixed\ntogether, and spread over the afflicted member, would have the\ndesired effect. So every night Meg fastened her bedroom door\nwith a wedge of wood, keys being unknown luxuries at Misrule,\nand anointed her, poor little nose most carefully with the\ngreasy mixture, lying all night on her back to prevent it\nrubbing off on the pillow.\n\nOnce Pip had forced his way into demand a few stitches for his\nbr"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Next Monday,\\\" he said slowly--\\\"next Monday morning you will\\ngo to boarding school. Est\",\n \"-wife, but she would not hear of it.\\n\\nAt first they had tried living in the barracks, but after a time\\nevery one in the officers' quarters rose in revolt at the pranks\\nof those graceless children, so Captain Woolcot took a house some\\ndistance up the Parramatta River, and in considerable bitterness\\nof spirit removed his family there.\\n\\nThey liked the change immensely; for there was a big wilderness\\nof a garden, two or three paddocks, numberless sheds for\\nhide-and-seek, and\",\n \"that her father could\\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\\na chickenhearted baby.\\n\\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\\nhe was doing all this to\",\n \"obstinately\\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days; and she had\\npretended to everyone, and her father, that she especially thought\\nboarding school must be great fun, and that she should enjoy it\\nimmensely.\\n\\nBut this morning she had collapsed altogether. All the time before,\\nher hot childish heart had been telling her that her father could\\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled\",\n \"and much from home. He did not understand children at all, and was\\nalways grumbling at the noise they made, and the money they cost.\\nStill, I think he was rather proud of Pip, and sometimes, if Nellie\\nwere prettily dressed, he would take her out with him in his dogcart.\\n\\nHe had offered to send the six of them to boarding school when he\\nbrought home his young girl-wife, but she would not hear of it.\\n\\nAt first they had tried living in the barracks, but after a time\\nevery one\",\n \"should get them. And Marian's mother asked for me to go there,\\ntoo, for a fortnight; and so Miss Burton wrote and asked Father could I?\\nand I wrote and asked couldn't I come home instead for the time?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He never told us,\\\" Meg said softly.\\n\\n\\\"No, I s'pose not. Well, he wrote back and said 'no' to me and\\n'yes' to her. So one day they put us in the train safely, and\\nwe were to be met at Katoomba. And the thought jumped\",\n \"itude of his study\\nbefore he could decide how he could best \\\"take care of her.\\\"\\n\\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and the governess to\\nthe mountains for a time, but then there was the difficulty about\\nlessons for the other three. He might send them to school, or\\nengage a governess certainly, but then again there was expense to be\\nconsidered.\\n\\nIt was out of the question for the girls to go alone, for Meg had\\nshown herself nothing but a silly little goose, in spite of her\\nsixteen years; and\",\n \"\\\"Oh, Jack!\\\" Esther said reproachfully.\\n\\n\\\"Oblige me by not interfering,\\\" he said; \\\"allow me a little\\nliberty with my own children, Esther. He is an untruthful little\\nvagabond; I am ashamed to own him for my son.\\\"\\n\\nAnd Esther, reflecting on the many shiftinesses of her stepson, was\\nable to console herself with the hope that it would do him good.\\n\\nThey went a shortcut through the bush to avoid the public road, and\\nthe blue,\",\n \"best to beg you off, but it\\nonly makes him more vexed. He says you are the untidiest, most\\nunruly lot of children in Sydney, and he will punish you each time\\nyou do anything, and--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, shut up, Judy! Can't you let us hear?\\\" Pip put his hand\\nover her mouth and held her by the hair while Esther told the\\nnews.\\n\\n\\\"None of you are to go to the pantomime.\",\n \"\\\"No, Father.\\\"\\n\\nHe moved toward the opening. \\\"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\\nwill come straight back with me this moment,\\\" he said, in an even\\nvoice. \\\"I shall take precautions to have you watched at school since\\nyou cannot be trusted. You will not return home for the Christmas\\nholidays, and probably not for those of the following June.\\\"\\n\\nIt was as bad as a sentence of death. The room swam before the girl's\\neyes, there was a singing and rushing in her ears.\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"very night,\\nand walk to Melbourne, or Jerusalem, and never see any of you again!\\nHow can you, Meg! After I've done all this just so he wouldn't know!\\nOh, how CAN you?\\\"\\n\\nShe was working herself up into a strong state of excitement.\\n\\n\\\"Why, I should be simply packed back again tomorrow--you know I\\nwould, Meg. Shouldn't I now, Pip? And get into a fearful row at\\nschool into the bargain. My plan is beautifully simple. After\\nI've had\",\n \"Button. And then the train stopped at Blackheath, and\\nI jumped straight out, and she went on to Katoomba, and I came home.\\nThat's all. Only, you see, as I'd lost my money there was nothing left\\nfor it but to walk.\\\"\\n\\nMeg smoothed the dusty, tangled confusion of her hair.\\n\\n\\\"But you can't live out here for the week,\\\" she said, in a troubled\\nvoice. \\\"You've got a horrid cough with sleeping outside, and I'm\\nsure\",\n \"for the girls to go alone, for Meg had\\nshown herself nothing but a silly little goose, in spite of her\\nsixteen years; and Judy needed attention. Then he remembered\\nEsther, too, was, looking unwell; the nursing and the General\\ntogether had been too much for her, and she looked quite a shadow of\\nher bright self. He knew he really ought to send her, too, and the\\nchild, of course.\\n\\nAnd again the expense.\\n\\nHe remembered the Christmas holidays were not very far away; what\\nwould become of the house\",\n \"her. So one day they put us in the train safely, and\\nwe were to be met at Katoomba. And the thought jumped into my head\\nas we went along: Why ever shouldn't I come home on the quiet? So\\nI told Marian she could explain to her people I had gone home instead,\\nand that she was to be sure to make it seem all right, so they wouldn't\\nwrite to Miss Button. And then the train stopped at Blackheath, and\\nI jumped straight out, and she went on to Katoomba, and I\",\n \"made that all safe,\\\" Judy said, with a smile of\\nrecollective pleasure. \\\"Marian's my chum, you see, and does anything\\nI tell her. And she lives at Katoomba.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" said Meg, mystified, as her sister paused. \\\"Well, you see,\\na lot of the girls had the measles, and so they sent Marian home, for\\nfear she should get them. And Marian's mother asked for me to go there,\\ntoo, for a fortnight; and so Miss Burton wrote and\",\n \"for there was a big wilderness\\nof a garden, two or three paddocks, numberless sheds for\\nhide-and-seek, and, best of all, the water. Their father kept\\nthree beautiful horses, one at he barracks and a hunter and a\\ngood hack at Misrule; so, to make up, the children--not that they\\ncared in the slightest--went about in shabby, out-at-elbow clothes,\\nand much-worn boots. They were taught--all but Pip, who went to\\nthe grammar\",\n \"the unhappy child.\\n\\nTwo, three, four, five angry cuts from the riding-whip in the\\nCaptain's hands, and Bunty had ducked under his arm and fled howling\\ndown the passage and out of the back door.\\n\\nAway across the paddocks he went, sobbing at every step, but hugely\\ncommending himself for bearing all this for someone else's sake.\\n\\nHe could hardly have believed, had anyone told him previously, that\\nhe could have done anything so absolutely noble, and the thought\\ncomforted him even while the cuts and sc\",\n \". She jumped the General up and down on\\nher knee.\\n\\n\\\"Little Boy Blue, Mum fell off that gate when she was three,\\\" said she,\\nlooking at it affectionately as Pip swung it open.\\n\\nSplash through the rain again; the wheels went softly now, for the\\nway was covered with wet fallen leaves.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, where IS the house?\\\" Bunty said, peeping through Pip's arm\\non the box seat, and seeing still nothing but an endless vista of\\ngum trees. \\\"I thought, you said we were there,\",\n \"there were labels on them that said: \\\"Miss Helen\\nWoolcot, The Misses Burton, Mount Victoria.\\\"\\n\\nIn the nursery breakfast was proceeding spasmodically. Meg's\\nblue eyes were all red and swollen with crying, and she was still\\nsniffing audibly as she poured out the coffee. Pip had his hands\\nin his pockets and stood on the hearthrug, looking gloomily at a\\ncertain plate, and refusing breakfast altogether; the General was\\ncrashing his own mug and plate joyously together; and Bun\",\n \"week,\\\" she said, in a troubled\\nvoice. \\\"You've got a horrid cough with sleeping outside, and I'm\\nsure you're ill. We shall have to tell Father about it. I'll beg him\\nnot to send you back, though.\\\"\\n\\nJudy started up, her eyes aflame.\\n\\n\\\"If you do,\\\" she said--\\\"if you do, I will run away this very night,\\nand walk to Melbourne, or Jerusalem, and never see any of you again!\\nHow can you, Meg! After I've\"\n ],\n [\n \"tained with a waist twenty-three inches round.\\\"\\n\\nAldith had not only made statements and comparisons, she had given\\nher friend practical advice, and shown her how the thing was to be\\ndone. And every night and morning Meg pulled away ruthlessly\\nat her corset laces, and crushed her beautiful little body into\\nnarrower space. She had already brought it within a girdle of\\ntwenty-one inches, which was a clear saving of two, and she had\\ntaken in all her dresses at the seams.\\n\\nBut she gave up\",\n \"friend Meg, pronouncing that\\nname to be \\\"too domestic and altogether unlovely.\\\"\\n\\nMeg glanced from her own waist to her friend's slender, beautiful\\none, and sighed profoundly. \\\"What ought I to be?\\\" she said in a\\nlow tone; and Aldith had answered, \\\"Eighteen--or nineteen,\\nMarguerite, at the most; true symmetrical grace can never be\\nobtained with a waist twenty-three inches round.\\\"\\n\\nAldith had not only made statements and comparisons, she had given\\nher friend practical\",\n \"mustn't leave\\nit off, of course, but you don't feel it at all after a bit.\\\"\\n\\nWith which assurance Meg pursued her painful course.\\n\\nEsther, the only person in a position to exercise any authority\\nin the matter, had not noticed at all, and, indeed, had she done,\\nso would not have thought very gravely of it, for it was only\\nfour years since she, too, had been sixteen, and a \\\"waist\\\" had\\nbeen the most desirable thing on earth.\\n\\nOnce she had said unwittingly,\",\n \"had been sixteen, and a \\\"waist\\\" had\\nbeen the most desirable thing on earth.\\n\\nOnce she had said unwittingly,\\n\\n\\\"What a nice little figure you are getting, Meg; this new\\ndressmaker certainly fits better than Miss Quinn\\\"; and foolish\\nMeg, with a throb of delight, had redoubled her efforts.\\n\\nLynx-eyed Judy would have found her out long ago, and laughed her\\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\\nabs\",\n \"going\\nto die, too, and if so would she be able to tell the same little\\nwife that Esther received more tenderness at his hands than she\\nhad done.\\n\\nHis reverie was interrupted by the doctor's sharp, surprised\\nvoice. He was talking to Esther, who had been hastily summoned to\\nthe scene, and who had helped to unfasten the pretty bodice.\\n\\n\\\"Why, the child is tight-laced!\\\" he said; \\\"surely you must\\nhave noticed it, madam. That pressure, if it has been constant,\",\n \"is tight-laced!\\\" he said; \\\"surely you must\\nhave noticed it, madam. That pressure, if it has been constant,\\nhas been enough to half kill her. Chut, chut! faint indeed--I wonder\\nshe has not taken fits or gone into a decline before this.\\\"\\n\\nThen a cloud of trouble came over Esther's beautiful face--she had\\nfailed again in her duty. Her husband was regarding her almost\\ngloomily from the sofa, where the little figure lay in its\\ncrumpled muslin dress, and her heart told her\",\n \"elt-fitting dress body. To walk quickly was positive pain; to\\nstoop, almost agony; but she endured it all with a heroism\\nworthy of a truly noble cause.\\n\\n\\\"How long shall I have to go on like this, Aldith?\\\" she asked\\nonce faintly, after a French lesson that she had scarcely been\\nable to sit through.\\n\\nAnd the older girl answered carelessly, \\\"Oh, you mustn't leave\\nit off, of course, but you don't feel it at all after a bit.\\\"\\n\\nWith which assurance Meg\",\n \"inches, which was a clear saving of two, and she had\\ntaken in all her dresses at the seams.\\n\\nBut she gave up the evening game of cricket, and she never made one\\nat rounders now, much to the others' disgust. No one, to look at\\nthe sweet blossom-like face, and soft, calm eyes, could have\\nguessed what torture was being felt beneath the now pretty,\\nwelt-fitting dress body. To walk quickly was positive pain; to\\nstoop, almost agony; but she endured it all with a\",\n \"ices to hide the join. This\\ndropped the skirts a good two inches, and made her look quite a\\ntall, slim figure, as she was well aware.\\n\\nAnd none of these things were very harmful.\\n\\nBut Aldith gradually grew dissatisfied with her waist.\\n\\n\\\"You're at least twenty-three, Marguerite,\\\" she said once, quite in\\na horrified way. She never called her friend Meg, pronouncing that\\nname to be \\\"too domestic and altogether unlovely.\\\"\\n\\nMeg glanced from her own waist to her friend\",\n \"was quite florid-looking at times. Now a heroine\\nmay have the largest, deepest, and most heavily lashed eyes\\nimaginable; she may have hair in very truth like the gold \\\"mown\\nfrom a harvest's middle floor\\\"; she may have lips like cherries\\nand teeth like pearls, and a red nose will be so utterly fatal\\nthat all these other charms will pass unnoticed. It cost Meg real\\nanguish of spirit. She carefully read all the Answers to Correspondents\\nin the various papers Aldith lent her in search of\",\n \"or little Meg! She was very miserable in these days, and yet it\\nwas a kind of exquisite misery that she hugged to her to keep it\\nwarm. No one guessed her secret. She would have died rather than\\nallow even Aldith to get a suspicion of it, and accepted Andrew's\\nnotes and smiles as if there was nothing more she wanted. But she\\ngrew a trifle thin and large-eyed, and used to make copious notes\\nin her diary every night, and to write a truly appalling quantity\\nof verses, in which\",\n \"ences a friendship sprang up.\\n\\nAldith had three grown-up sisters, whom she aped in everything,\\nand was considerably wiser in the world than simple-minded,\\nromantic Meg.\\n\\nShe lent Meg novels, \\\"Family Herald Supplements\\\", \\\"Young Ladies'\\nJournals\\\", and such publications, and the young girl took to them\\nwith avidity, surprised at the new world into which they took her;\\nfor Charlotte Yonge and Louisa Alcott and Miss Wetherall had hitherto\\nformed her simple and wholesome fare.\",\n \"and laughed her\\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\\nabsence.\\n\\nAldith only lived about twenty minutes' walk from Misrule, so\\nthe two girls were always together. Twice a week they went down\\nto town in the river-boat to learn how to inquire, in polite\\nFrench, \\\"Has the baker's young daughter the yellow hat, brown\\ngloves, and umbrella of the undertaker's niece?\\\" And twice a\\nweek, after they had\",\n \"the\\nteasing.\\n\\nNowadays Meg spent a great deal of time in her bedroom, that she\\nhad all to herself while Judy was away. In its privacy she\\ntrimmed and retrimmed her hats, altered her dresses, read her\\nnovels, and sat in front of the looking-glass with her hair down,\\ndreaming of being quite grown up and in love. For just now both\\nto Aldith, and herself that state of life seemed the only one\\naltogether lovely and desirable. Meg used to curl herself up in a\\nbig easy-\",\n \"took her;\\nfor Charlotte Yonge and Louisa Alcott and Miss Wetherall had hitherto\\nformed her simple and wholesome fare.\\n\\nMeg began to dream rose-coloured dreams of the time when her fair,\\nshining hair should be gathered up into \\\"a simple knot at the back\\nof her head\\\" or \\\"brushed into a regal coronet,\\\" these being the\\nstyles in which the heroines in the novels invariably dressed\\ntheir hair. A pigtail done in three was very unromantic. That\\nwas why, as a\",\n \"and look at your own stepmother. Plenty of girls\\nare actually married at sixteen, Marguerite, and a man proposed\\nmy sister Beatrice when she was only fifteen.\\\" Meg looked\\nimpressed and thoughtful.\\n\\nThen Aldith rose to go. \\\"Mind you're in time for the boat\\nto-morrow,\\\" she said, as they reached the gate; \\\"and, Marguerite,\\nbe sure you make yourself look very nice--wear your cornflower\\ndress, and see if Mrs. Woolcot will lend you a pair of her\",\n \"suggest improvements as he went along.\\n\\nMeg, who had almost severed her connection with Aldith, devoted\\nherself to her sister, and waited on her hand and foot; she made her\\nall kinds of little presents--a boot-bag, with compartments; a\\nbrush-and-comb bag, with the monogram \\\"J.W.,\\\" worked in pink silk;\\na little work-basket, with needle-book, pin-cushion, and all complete.\\nJudy feared she should be compelled to betake herself to tidy habits\\non\",\n \"Meg said, fired in a moment. \\\"Like Guy Deloraine\\nin 'Angelina's Ambition'.\\\" Aldith put her arm more tightly round\\nher friend.\\n\\n\\\"Wouldn't it be HEAVENLY, Marguerite, to be engaged--you and I?\\\"\\nshe said, in a tone of dreamy rapture. \\\"To have a dark,\\nhandsome man with proud black eyes just dying with love for you,\\ngoing down on his knees, and giving you presents, and taking you\\nout and all--oh, Marguerite,\",\n \"I'll get taken off,\\\" Miss Aldith would say as they started; and\\nby the end of the time Meg would say longingly, \\\"How lovely it must\\nbe to know crowds of gentlemen like you do.\\\"\\n\\nSometimes one or two of them would stop and exchange a word or two,\\nand then Aldith would formally introduce Meg; often, however, the\\nlatter, who was sharp enough for all her foolishness, would fancy\\nshe detected a patronizing, amused air in these gentlemen's\\nmanners. As, indeed, there often was; they were chief\",\n \"and encouraged him, and helped him to fight the world again,\\nand gave him never a hard word or look, thinking he had had plenty.\\nWhich sister's influence would be greater, Miss Meg?\\\"\\n\\nMeg's little soft mouth, was quivering, her eyes were on the ground,\\nbecause the tears would have splashed out if she had lifted them.\\n\\n\\\"Oh-h-h!\\\" she said again. \\\"Oh, how very horrid I have been--oh-h-h!\\\"\\n\\nShe covered her face with her hands, for one of her quickly gathered\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"was\\ncrying because it was borne upon her what a very hateful creature\\nshe was. First Alan lectured her and spoke of his sister, and now\\nthis man.\\n\\nHe misinterpreted her silence.\\n\\n\\\"I have no right to speak to you like this, because my life has been\\nany colour but white--that is it, isn't it, Miss Meg?\\\" he said with\\ngreat sadness.\\n\\nMeg dropped her sheltering hands.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, no,\\\" she said, \\\"oh! how CAN you think so? It is only I\",\n \"end of the boat--cigars at the beginning\\nof term and a short, black, villainous-looking pipe at the end--and\\nMeg used secretly to think how manly he looked, and to sigh profoundly.\\n\\nFor I may as well tell you now as later what this foolish little\\nthing had done after a few months' course of Aldith and novels.\\nShe had fallen in love as nearly as it is possible for sweet sixteen\\nto do; and it was with Alan, who had no good looks nor pleasant\\nmanners--not Andrew, who had speaking eyes, and\",\n \"sweet sixteen\\nto do; and it was with Alan, who had no good looks nor pleasant\\nmanners--not Andrew, who had speaking eyes, and curls that \\\"made\\nhis forehead like the rising sun\\\"; not Andrew, who gave her tender\\nglances and conversation peppermints that said \\\"My heart is thine,\\\"\\nbut Alan, who took no notice whatever of her beyond an occasional\\nhalf-scornful bow.\\n\\nPoor little Meg! She was very miserable in these days, and yet it\\nwas a kind of exquisite misery that she hugged to her\",\n \"aving fun\\\"\\nwith \\\"the girl MacCarthy,\\\" he objected to being left out in the\\ncold. So he began to pay marked attentions to Meg, who blushed\\nright up to her soft, pretty fringe every time he spoke to her,\\nand looked painfully conscious and guilty if he said anything at\\nall complimentary to her.\\n\\nThe other boy, Alan Courtney, was very tall and broad-shouldered,\\nand not at all good-looking. He had a strong, plain face, grey\\neyes deeply set, and brown hair that looked\",\n \"or little Meg! She was very miserable in these days, and yet it\\nwas a kind of exquisite misery that she hugged to her to keep it\\nwarm. No one guessed her secret. She would have died rather than\\nallow even Aldith to get a suspicion of it, and accepted Andrew's\\nnotes and smiles as if there was nothing more she wanted. But she\\ngrew a trifle thin and large-eyed, and used to make copious notes\\nin her diary every night, and to write a truly appalling quantity\\nof verses, in which\",\n \"I'll get taken off,\\\" Miss Aldith would say as they started; and\\nby the end of the time Meg would say longingly, \\\"How lovely it must\\nbe to know crowds of gentlemen like you do.\\\"\\n\\nSometimes one or two of them would stop and exchange a word or two,\\nand then Aldith would formally introduce Meg; often, however, the\\nlatter, who was sharp enough for all her foolishness, would fancy\\nshe detected a patronizing, amused air in these gentlemen's\\nmanners. As, indeed, there often was; they were chief\",\n \"-eyed, and used to make copious notes\\nin her diary every night, and to write a truly appalling quantity\\nof verses, in which \\\"heart\\\" and \\\"part,\\\" \\\"grieve\\\" and \\\"leave,\\\"\\n\\\"weep\\\" and \\\"keep,\\\" and \\\"sigh\\\" and \\\"die,\\\" were most often the\\nconcluding words of the lines. She endured Andrew for several\\nreasons. He was Alan's brother for one thing, and was always\\nsaying things about \\\"old Al,\\\" and recording his prowess on the\\nfootball field; and Aldith might\",\n \"this, won't you?\\nI was thinking, of my sister who died. I had another little sister,\\ntoo, a year older, but she was hard--only event to her once.\\nShe is one of the best women in England now, but her lips are severe.\\nLittle Miss Meg, I could not bear the thought of you growing hard.\\\"\\n\\nHalf a dozen big tears had fallen down among the forks. Meg was\\ncrying because it was borne upon her what a very hateful creature\\nshe was. First Alan lectured her and spoke of his sister\",\n \"not think so? Still, perhaps we\\ncan find a darker place farther on, and then I can kiss you without\\ndanger. What is the matter?--are you always as quiet as this with\\nAndrew?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, DON'T!\\\" said Meg, in a choking voice.\\n\\nThe mocking tone died instantly out of his voice, \\\"Miss Meg, you\\nused to seem such a nice little girl,\\\" he said quietly; \\\"what\\nhave you let that horrid MacCarthy girl spoil you for? For she is\\nhorrid, though\",\n \"-scrub at the end was very quiet; there was not a rustle,\\nnot a sound of a voice, not a sound of the affected little laugh\\nthat generally told when Aldith was near.\\n\\nMeg stopped breathless, and peered among the bushes; there was a\\ntall figure leaning against the fence.\\n\\n\\\"Andrew!\\\" she said in a sharp whisper, and forgetting in her\\nanxiety that she never called him by his Christian name--\\\"where\\nare the others? Hasn't Aldith come?\\\"\\n\\nThere was the smell of a cig\",\n \"s steed had not a canter in it, it fell out that\\nhe kept beside the slow and timid rider all the time.\\n\\n\\\"You remind me of a little sister I had who died,\\\" he said slowly to\\nMeg once, after a long talk. \\\"Perhaps if she were alive now I should\\nnot be quite so contemptible.\\\"\\n\\nMeg's face flushed scarlet, and a shamed look had come into her eyes.\\nIt seemed altogether terrible to her that he should know she knew of\\nhis failing.\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps it makes her\",\n \"he said quietly; \\\"what\\nhave you let that horrid MacCarthy girl spoil you for? For she is\\nhorrid, though you may not think so.\\\"\\n\\nMeg did not speak or move, and he went on with a gentle earnestness\\nthat she had not thought him capable of..\\n\\n\\\"I have watched her on the boat, systematically going to work to\\nspoil you, and can't help thinking of the pity of it. I imagined\\nhow I should feel if my little sister Flossie ever fell in with\\nsuch a girl, and\",\n \"the\\nteasing.\\n\\nNowadays Meg spent a great deal of time in her bedroom, that she\\nhad all to herself while Judy was away. In its privacy she\\ntrimmed and retrimmed her hats, altered her dresses, read her\\nnovels, and sat in front of the looking-glass with her hair down,\\ndreaming of being quite grown up and in love. For just now both\\nto Aldith, and herself that state of life seemed the only one\\naltogether lovely and desirable. Meg used to curl herself up in a\\nbig easy-\",\n \"en lady's winter cloak.\\n\\nThen she turned to go in.\\n\\n\\\"What's that sticking out of your wee pocket, Flossie girl?\\\" he\\nsaid, as she brushed past him. She stopped a second and felt.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, nearly I didn't wemember, an' I pwomised I would--it's a\\nletter for you, Alan,\\\" she said, and gave Meg's poor little epistle\\nup into the very hands of the Philistine.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER VIII\\n\\nA\",\n \"called him by his Christian name--\\\"where\\nare the others? Hasn't Aldith come?\\\"\\n\\nThere was the smell of a cigar, and, looking closely, she saw to\\nher horror it was Alan.\\n\\n\\\"Oh!\\\" she said, in an indescribable tone.\\n\\nHer heart gave one frightened, shamed bound, and then seemed\\nto stop beating altogether.\\n\\nShe looked up, at him as if entreating him not to have too bad an\\nopinion of her; but his face wore the contemptuous look she had\\ngrown to\",\n \"atrice he thought you seemed\\na nice little thing; he often notices you, he says, because you\\nblush so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can't help it,\\\" Meg said, unhappily. \\\"Aldith, how ought the\\nribbon to go on my hat? I'm going to retrim it again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, square bows, somewhat stiff, and well at the side,\\\" the oracle,\\nsaid. \\\"I'm glad you're going to, dear, it looked just a wee bit\\ndowdy, didn't\",\n \"the\\nlittle fair-faced girl, who looked with such serene blue eyes to a\\nfuture she felt must be beautiful, and the world-worn man, who looked\\nback to a past all blackened and unlovely by his own acts.\\n\\nHe rode with the two girls every-day, because Mrs. Hassal did not\\nlike them going long distances alone; and, seeing Judy seldom walked\\nher horse, and Meg's steed had not a canter in it, it fell out that\\nhe kept beside the slow and timid rider all the time.\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I do, I do indeed,\\\" he said eagerly; \\\"I only said it because--well,\\nbecause I am a great rough brute, and don't know how to talk to a\\nlittle, tender girl. Dear Miss Meg, do shake hands and tell me you\\nforgive my boorishness.\\\"\\n\\nMeg extended a small white hand, and he shook it warmly. Then\\nthey walked up the paddocks together, and parted at a broken gate\\nleading into the garden.\\n\\n\\\"I'll never flirt again while I live\",\n \"was not calculated\\nto cure it; Meg had grown weary of staring out into the moving darkness,\\nand wondering whether Alan would notice she was never on the river-boat\\nnow; and the poor little General was filling the hot air with\\nexpostulations, in the shape of loud roars, at the irregularities of\\nthe treatment he was undergoing.\\n\\nEsther had taken his day clothes off, and made a picture of him in\\na cream flannel nightgown and a pink wool jacket. And for half an\\nhour, he had submitted good-temperedly to being handed\",\n \"again,\\nand the way her soft hair fell on her forehead made him think\\nof his young dead sister.\\n\\n\\\"I BEG you to give it to me again, little Miss Meg,\\\" he said.\\n\\nMeg's heart and head had a rapid battle; the former was tender\\nand charitable, and bade her take the little ribbon and give it to\\nhim instantly; the latter said he had sinned greatly, and she must\\nshow him her disapproval by her manner, even if she yielded what he\\nasked her in the end. The head won.\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"vision of his father crossed his mind.\\n\\n\\\"He won't know, of course,\\\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\\nmanner. \\\"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\\npresently I'll go back to school.\\\" She sank down among the straw\\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\\n\\n\\\"How far is it from your school?\\\" he said at last.\",\n \"'t to go to school,\\\" Judy continued, thinking it rapidly out.\\n\\\"Two of you could go and get some food. Tell Martha you are all\\ngoing for a picnic--she'll be glad enough not to have dinner to\\nset--then you go on. Two others can watch if the coast's clear\\nwhile I get down and across the paddocks, and once we're at the\\ncorner of the road we're safe.\\\"\\n\\nIt seemed feasible enough, and in a very short time the preparations\\nwere all made. Pip was mount\",\n \", a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\\n\\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\\nanswer.\\n\\n\\\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\\\" he continued, in the\\nsame unemotional voice. \\\"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"Judy,\\\" he said gently, \\\"but the others are\\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\\\"\\n\\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\\n\\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\\n\\n\\\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\\\" she said with a sob. \\\"They might\\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pip's gone fishing,\\\" he said, \\\"and Nell's carrying the basket\",\n \"dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\\nand her hair matted and rough.\\n\\n\\\"My golly!\\\" the little boy said again, his eyes threatening\\nto start out of his head--\\\"my golly, Judy, what have you been\\ndoin'?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I--I've run away, Bunty,\\\" Judy said, in a quavering voice.\\n\\\"I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you all\\nso badly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My jiggery!\\\" Bunty said.\\n\\n\\\"I've thought it\",\n \"time. Pip\\nused to go to school late and come back early, cajoling notes of excuse,\\nwhenever, possible, out of Esther. He even played the truant once, and\\ntook a caning for it afterwards quite good-humouredly.\\n\\nJudy still looked pale and tired, and her cough was rather troublesome;\\nbut she was fast getting her high spirits back, and was enjoying her\\nadventure immensely.\\n\\nThe only drawback was the cribbed, cabined, and confined space of\\nthe lo\",\n \", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\\\"\\n\\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \\\"Who on earth--what--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \\\"She's in the shed,\\n\",\n \"actual\\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\\ndespair. \\\"Judy's home!\\\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\\n\\\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\\n\",\n \"home,\\\" said Bunty, almost bursting with the importance of his\\nknowledge. \\\"No one's seen her but me; I've nearly got killed\\nwith climbing up cactuses and into windows and things, and I've had\\nthrashings from Father and everything, but I never told a word, did\\nI, Meg? I've got her up in the shed here, and I went and got corned\\nbeef and everything just you look at my legs:\\\"\\n\\nHe displayed his scars proudly, but Meg hurried on, and Pip and Nell\",\n \"open them, and then he felt he could never\\nclose them again for amazement.\\n\\nFor, it was Judy's hand that was over his mouth, and Judy's self\\nthat was standing beside him.\\n\\n\\\"My golly!\\\" he said, in a tone of stupefaction. He stared hard\\nat her to make sure she was real flesh and blood. \\\"However did\\nyou get here?\\\"\\n\\nBut Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining apple\\nand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in\\nsil\",\n \"sew or something. You like it better 'n Pip's, don't\\nyou?\\\"\\n\\nJudy temporized skilfully, and averted offence to either by asking\\nthem to put the presents with all the others near the head of the bed.\\n\\n\\\"What a lot of things you'll have to take back to school, Ju,\\\" Nell\\nsaid, as she added her contribution in the shape of a pair of crochet\\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\\n\\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance,\",\n \"\\nfather. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he\\nwatched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber\\nof his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said in a loud voice.\\n\\nThe closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness\\ncleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\",\n \"a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\\nthat were Judy'\",\n \"a minute or two, and\\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\\n\\n\\\"How far is it from your school?\\\" he said at last.\\n\\n\\\"Seventy-seven miles.\\\" Judy shuddered a little. \\\"I got a lift\\nin a luggage train from Lawson to Springwood, and a ride in a cart\\nfor a little way, but I walked the rest. I've been nearly a week\\ncoming,\\\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-\",\n \"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?\\\" he repeated.\\n\\n\\\"No, Father,\\\" she said.\\n\\nHer face had a worn, strained look that might have touched him\\nat another time, but he was too angry to notice.\\n\\n\\\"No excuse or reason at all?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, Father.\\\"\\n\\nHe moved toward the opening. \\\"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\\nwill come straight back with\",\n \"But Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining apple\\nand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"Haven't you got any more?\\\" she said anxiously. Then he\\nnoticed what a tall, gaunt, strange-looking Judy it was. Her\\nclothes were hanging round her almost in tatters, her boots were\\nburst and white with dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\\nand her hair matted and rough.\\n\\n\\\"My golly!\\\" the little boy said again,\",\n \"her; I'll bring him down with me.\\\"\\n\\nEsther deposited her little fat son on the pillow, and with one\\nloving backward glance went out of the door.\\n\\nAnd Judy pulled the little lad down into her arms, and covered the\\nbedclothes right over both their heads, and held him in a fierce,\\nalmost desperate clasp for a minute or two, and buried her face\\nin his soft, dimpled neck, and kissed it till her lips ached.\\n\\nHe fought manfully against these troublesome proceedings, and at\\nlast objected, with an\",\n \"a pair of crochet\\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\\n\\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance, and turned her face\\nto the wall for the rest of the evening.\\n\\nThat was what had been hanging over her so heavily all this long\\nfortnight in bed--the thought of school in the future.\\n\\n\\\"What's going to happen to me when I get better, Esther?\\\" she\\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\\nsee her. \\\"Is he saving up a lot of beatings\",\n \"Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Next Monday,\\\" he said slowly--\\\"next Monday morning you will\\ngo to boarding school. Est\",\n \"as hardly compatible with dignity. He remembered hearing\\nrumours of missing furniture in the house, and almost a smile came\\ninto his eyes as he saw the little old table with the spirit-lamp and\\nteapot thereon, the bed-clothing and washing-basin. But a stern\\nlook succeeded it. Were seventy-seven miles not sufficient obstacle\\nto Judy's mischievous plans? How did she dare thus to defy him, a\\nchild of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed\\nominously, and he went down again\"\n ],\n [\n \"vision of his father crossed his mind.\\n\\n\\\"He won't know, of course,\\\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\\nmanner. \\\"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\\npresently I'll go back to school.\\\" She sank down among the straw\\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\\n\\n\\\"How far is it from your school?\\\" he said at last.\",\n \"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?\\\" he repeated.\\n\\n\\\"No, Father,\\\" she said.\\n\\nHer face had a worn, strained look that might have touched him\\nat another time, but he was too angry to notice.\\n\\n\\\"No excuse or reason at all?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, Father.\\\"\\n\\nHe moved toward the opening. \\\"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\\nwill come straight back with\",\n \", one would think I was going to take the child to be hanged,\\nor at least was going to leave her in a penitentiary.\\\"\\n\\nA great dry sob broke from Judy's white lips.\\n\\n\\\"If you'll let me stay, Father, I'll never do another thing to vex\\nyou; and you can thrash me instead, ever so hard.\\\"\\n\\nIt was her last effort, her final hope, and she bit her poor\\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\\n\\n\\\"Let her stay--oh! do\",\n \", a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\\n\\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\\nanswer.\\n\\n\\\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\\\" he continued, in the\\nsame unemotional voice. \\\"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"\\nfather. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he\\nwatched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber\\nof his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said in a loud voice.\\n\\nThe closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness\\ncleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\",\n \"Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Next Monday,\\\" he said slowly--\\\"next Monday morning you will\\ngo to boarding school. Est\",\n \"\\\"No, Father.\\\"\\n\\nHe moved toward the opening. \\\"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\\nwill come straight back with me this moment,\\\" he said, in an even\\nvoice. \\\"I shall take precautions to have you watched at school since\\nyou cannot be trusted. You will not return home for the Christmas\\nholidays, and probably not for those of the following June.\\\"\\n\\nIt was as bad as a sentence of death. The room swam before the girl's\\neyes, there was a singing and rushing in her ears.\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \". I wanted to see you all\\nso badly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My jiggery!\\\" Bunty said.\\n\\n\\\"I've thought it all out,\\\" Judy continued, pushing back her hair\\nin a weary moray. \\\"I can't quite remember everything just now,\\nI am so tired, but everything will be all right.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But what'll he say?\\\" Bunty said with frightened eyes, as a\\nvision of his father crossed his mind.\\n\\n\\\"He won't know, of course,\\\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\\n\",\n \"as hardly compatible with dignity. He remembered hearing\\nrumours of missing furniture in the house, and almost a smile came\\ninto his eyes as he saw the little old table with the spirit-lamp and\\nteapot thereon, the bed-clothing and washing-basin. But a stern\\nlook succeeded it. Were seventy-seven miles not sufficient obstacle\\nto Judy's mischievous plans? How did she dare thus to defy him, a\\nchild of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed\\nominously, and he went down again\",\n \"no irreparable harm done, is\\nthere? Yes, your father has gone away in a cab. He couldn't\\nimagine how the little boy came on his bed, and, as he couldn't\\nkeep him here very well, I suppose he has taken him home.\\\"\\n\\nSomething like a look of shame came into Judy's bright eyes,\\n\\n\\\"I am afraid I must have put my father to some inconvenience,\\\"\\nshe said quietly. \\\"It was I who left the Gen--my brother here,\\nbecause I didn't know what to do with him\",\n \"a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true\",\n \"and isn't it right and proper fathers should\\nlook after their sons? And doesn't he deserve we should get\\neven with him for doing us out of the pantomime? And isn't the\\nAquarium too lovely to miss?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" Pip said; his slower brain did not follow such rapid\\nreasoning.\\n\\n\\\"Only I'm going to leave the General here at the Barracks for a\\ncouple of hours till we come back, his father being the proper\\nperson to watch over him.\\\" Judy grasped the General's\",\n \"that her father could\\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\\na chickenhearted baby.\\n\\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\\nhe was doing all this to\",\n \"a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\\nthat were Judy'\",\n \"\\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\\nsee her. \\\"Is he saving up a lot of beatings for me? And shall I\\nhave to go back the first week?\\\"\\n\\nEsther reassured her.\\n\\n\\\"You won't go back this quarter at all, very likely not next either,\\nJudy dear. He says you shall go away with some of the others for\\na change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\\\"\\n\\nWith this\",\n \"obstinately\\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days; and she had\\npretended to everyone, and her father, that she especially thought\\nboarding school must be great fun, and that she should enjoy it\\nimmensely.\\n\\nBut this morning she had collapsed altogether. All the time before,\\nher hot childish heart had been telling her that her father could\\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled\",\n \"father, and which was\\nstill unconfessed, because the horse was seriously lame, and his\\ncourage oozed away every time he thought of that riding-whip.\\n\\nPerhaps it was the reaction after the great excitement. Or it may\\nhave been a rankling sense of injustice at the small glory his brave\\ndeeds on Judy's behalf evoked from the others. They did not seem to\\nattach any importance to them, and, indeed, laughed every time he\\nalluded to them or drew public attention to his scars. Two or\",\n \"dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\\nand her hair matted and rough.\\n\\n\\\"My golly!\\\" the little boy said again, his eyes threatening\\nto start out of his head--\\\"my golly, Judy, what have you been\\ndoin'?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I--I've run away, Bunty,\\\" Judy said, in a quavering voice.\\n\\\"I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you all\\nso badly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My jiggery!\\\" Bunty said.\\n\\n\\\"I've thought it\",\n \"Judy had said solemnly, and all had promised so to conduct\\nthemselves that their father's heart could not fail to be melted.\\n\\nPip put on his school jacket, brushed his hair, took a pile of\\nschool books, and proceeded to the study where his father was\\nwriting letters, and where he was allowed to do his home-lessons.\\n\\n\\\"Well, what do you want?\\\" said the Captain, with a frown. \\\"No,\\nit's no good coming to the about that pup, sir--I won't have\",\n \"\\n (B)--sure, and don't I lo-o-ove you and delaight to plaize you?\\\"\\n\\nHe went in again slowly, thoughtfully. Judy always mystified\\nhim. He understood her the least of any of his children, and\\nsometimes the thought of her worried him. At present she was only\\na sharp, clever, and frequently impertinent child; but he felt\\nshe was utterly different from the other six, and it gave him\\nan aggrieved kind of feeling when he thought about it, which was\\nnot very often.\"\n ],\n [\n \"he is a\\nscamp.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Upon my word, Esther, your parents have a large enough fund of\\nphilanthropy. Anyone else included in the invitation?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Only Nell and Bunty and Baby. Oh, and Mother says if you can\\nrun up at any time for a few days shooting you know without her\\ntelling you how pleased she will be to see you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The hospitality of squatters is world-famed, but this breaks all\\nprevious records, Esther.\\\" The Captain got up and stretched himself\\nwith the air\",\n \"\\nwere not out in distant parts of the run.\\n\\nClose to the house was a long weather-board building with a heavy,\\npadlocked door.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, let's go in,\\\" Nell said, attracted by the size of the\\npadlock; \\\"it looks like a treasure-house in a book--mayn't we\\ngo in, please, little grandma?\\\"\\n\\nThey were exploring all the buildings--the six children in a body,\\nMrs. Hassal, whom they all called \\\"little grandma,\\\" much to her\\npleasure, and Esther\",\n \"pale.\\\"\\n\\nThe Captain placed the cigar back in the case. He forgot there was\\nsuch a thing as gout.\\n\\n\\\"The invitation could not have been more opportune,\\\" he said. \\\"Accept\\nby all means; nothing could have been better; and it is an exceedingly\\nhealthy climate. The other children can--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, Father expressly stipulates for Pip as well, because he is a\\nscamp.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Upon my word, Esther, your parents have a large enough fund of\\nphilanthropy.\",\n \"over her mouth and held her by the hair while Esther told the\\nnews.\\n\\n\\\"None of you are to go to the pantomime. The seats were taken for\\nThursday night, and now, you very foolish children, you will all\\nhave to stay at home.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a perfect howl of dismay for a minute or two. They had\\nall been looking forward to this treat for nearly a month, and the\\ndisappointment was a really bitter one to them all.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I say, Esther, that's too bad, really!\",\n \"\\n\\nBut it was a very damp, miserable drive, and the General wept with\\nhardly a break from start to finish, greatly to Esther's vexation,\\nfor it was his first introduction to his grandfather.\\n\\nAt last, when everyone was beginning to feel the very end of patience\\nhad come, a high white gate broke the monotony of dripping wet\\nfences.\\n\\n\\\"Home!\\\" Esther said joyfully. She jumped the General up and down on\\nher knee.\\n\\n\\\"Little Boy Blue, Mum fell off that gate when she was three,\\\"\",\n \"I HOPE he hasn't gone\\ntoo; someway I don't think Father was very pleased, especially\\nas that man was there.\\\"\\n\\nBut that small youth had done so, and returned presently\\ncrestfallen.\\n\\n\\\"He wouldn't give me any--he told me to go away, and the man\\nlaughed, and Esther said we were very naughty--I got some\\nfeathered potatoes, though, from the table outside the door.\\\"\\n\\nHe opened his dirty little hands and dropped the uninviting\\nfeathered delicacy out\",\n \"calling forth a word or two of \\\"foreign language,\\\" when\\nEsther came in with a smile on her lips and an open letter in her\\nhands.\\n\\n\\\"From Mother,\\\" she said. \\\"Yarrahappini's a wilderness, it seems, and\\nshe wants me to go up, and take the General with me, for a few weeks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah!\\\" he said.\\n\\nIt would certainly solve one of the difficulties. The place was very\\nfar away certainly, but then it was Esther's old home, and she had\\nnot seen it since\",\n \"\\\"Oh, Jack!\\\" Esther said reproachfully.\\n\\n\\\"Oblige me by not interfering,\\\" he said; \\\"allow me a little\\nliberty with my own children, Esther. He is an untruthful little\\nvagabond; I am ashamed to own him for my son.\\\"\\n\\nAnd Esther, reflecting on the many shiftinesses of her stepson, was\\nable to console herself with the hope that it would do him good.\\n\\nThey went a shortcut through the bush to avoid the public road, and\\nthe blue,\",\n \"arm\\non the box seat, and seeing still nothing but an endless vista of\\ngum trees. \\\"I thought, you said we were there, Esther.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, the front door is not quite so near the gate as at Misrule,\\\"\\nshe said. And indeed it was not.\\n\\nIt was fifteen minutes before they even saw the chimneys, then there\\nwas another gate to be opened. A gravel drive now trimly kept,\\nhigh box round the flower-beds, a wilderness of rose bushes that\\npleased Meg's eye, two chip\",\n \"children in a body,\\nMrs. Hassal, whom they all called \\\"little grandma,\\\" much to her\\npleasure, and Esther with the boy.\\n\\n\\\"You must go and ask Mr. Gillet,\\\" the old lady said; \\\"he keeps\\nthe keys of the stores. See, over in that cottage near the tank,\\nand speak nicely, children, please.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Such a gentleman,\\\" she said in a low tone to Esther, \\\"so clever,\\nso polished, if only he did not drink so.\\\"\\n\\nMeg and Judy went, with\",\n \"green thick\\ncreeper with rain-blown wisteria for an outer wall.\\n\\n\\\"O--o--oh,\\\" said Pip; \\\"o--oh! I AM stiff--o--oh, I say, what are you\\ndoing?\\\"\\n\\nFor Esther had deposited her infant on his knee, and leapt out of\\nthe waggonette and up the veranda steps.\\n\\nThere was a tiny old lady there, with a great housekeeping apron\\non. Esther gathered her right up in her arms, and they kissed and\\nclung to each\",\n \"Baby flung her arms round her neck\\nand nearly choked her; Nell stroked her cheek; Pip patted her\\nback, and besought her to \\\"be a good fellow\\\"; Bunty buried his\\nnose in her back hair and wept a silent tear; Meg clasped her hand\\nin an access of unhappiness; the General gave a series of delighted\\nsqueaks; and Judy in her wretchedness smacked him for his pains.\\n\\nEsther would do her best, beg as she had never done before, coax,\\nbeseech, whe\",\n \", and she bit her poor\\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\\n\\n\\\"Let her stay--oh! do letter stay, we'll be good always,\\\" came\\nin a chorus from the veranda. And, \\\"Let her stay, John, PLEASE!\\\"\\nEsther called in a tone as entreating as any of the children.\\n\\nBut the Captain sprang into the dogcart and seized the reins from\\nPat in a burst of anger.\\n\\n\\\"I think you're all demented!\\\" he cried. \\\"She'\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nThey went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her\\ndays, \\\"would go the softlier, sadlier\\\" because of the price that\\nhad been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air\\nof Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.\\n\\nSo when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor\\nlittle girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill\",\n \"tone to Esther, \\\"so clever,\\nso polished, if only he did not drink so.\\\"\\n\\nMeg and Judy went, with Baby hurrying after them as fast as her\\nshort legs would allow.\\n\\n\\\"Come in,\\\" a voice said, when they knocked. Meg hesitated\\nnervously, and a man opened the door. Such a great, gaunt man,\\nwith restless, unhappy eyes, a brown, wide brow, and neatly\\ntrimmed beard.\\n\\nJudy stated that Mrs. Hassal had sent them for the keys, if he had\",\n \"there, with a great housekeeping apron\\non. Esther gathered her right up in her arms, and they kissed and\\nclung to each other till they were both crying.\\n\\n\\\"My little girl!\\\" sobbed the little old lady, stroking, with eager\\nhands, Esther's wet hair and wetter cheeks.\\n\\nAnd Bunty, who had followed close behind, looked from the tall figure\\nof his stepmother to the very small one of her mother and laughed.\\n\\nEsther darted back to the buggy, took the General from Pip, and\",\n \"which an\\nimmensely tall man was climbing.\\n\\n\\\"Father!\\\"\\n\\nEsther rushed out into the rain. She put her arms round the dripping\\nmackintosh and clung fast to it for a minute or two. Perhaps that is\\nwhat made her cheeks and eyes so wet and shining.\\n\\n\\\"Little girl--little Esther child!\\\" he said, and almost lifted her\\noff the ground as he kissed her, tall though Meg considered her.\\n\\nThen he hurried them all off into the buggies, five in one and three\\nin the other.\",\n \"s dress, fastening her own with it, and dropping\\na curtsey.\\n\\nEsther reddened a little now.\\n\\n\\\"That's the General, Judy: he always pulls the buttons off my\\nwrappers when I play with him. But I'm forgetting. Children,\\nI have bad news for you.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a breathless silence. Everyone crowded round her knees.\\n\\n\\\"Sentence has been proclaimed,\\\" said Judy dramatically: \\\"let us\\nshave our heads and don sackcloth.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your father says he cannot\",\n \"him for his pains.\\n\\nEsther would do her best, beg as she had never done before, coax,\\nbeseech, wheedle, threaten; and they let her go at last with that\\nassurance.\\n\\n\\\"Only I'd advise you all to be preternaturally good and quiet\\nall day,\\\" she said, looking back from the doorway. \\\"That would\\nhave most effect with him, and he is going to be at home all day.\\\"\\n\\nGOOD! It was absolutely painful to witness the virtue of those\\nchildren for the rest of the\",\n \"for the girls to go alone, for Meg had\\nshown herself nothing but a silly little goose, in spite of her\\nsixteen years; and Judy needed attention. Then he remembered\\nEsther, too, was, looking unwell; the nursing and the General\\ntogether had been too much for her, and she looked quite a shadow of\\nher bright self. He knew he really ought to send her, too, and the\\nchild, of course.\\n\\nAnd again the expense.\\n\\nHe remembered the Christmas holidays were not very far away; what\\nwould become of the house\"\n ],\n [\n \"heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\\nhorrible thud.\\n\\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\\ntowards the sound!\\n\\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\\nher arms spread out.\\n\\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\\nlaid\",\n \", but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true.\\n\\nJudy sat bolt upright in bed at the sight of Esther's sorrowful\\nface.\\n\\n\\\"It's no good, dear; there's no way out of it,\\\" she said gently.\\n\\\"But you'll go like a brave girl, won't you, Ju-Ju? You always\\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\\\"\\n\\nJudy gulped down\",\n \"a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\\nthat were Judy'\",\n \", dear, we are forgetting; there's Mother, Judy, dear--you\\nwon't be lonely! Can't you remember Mother's eyes, little Judy?\\\"\\n\\nJudy grew quiet, and still more quiet. She shut her eyes so she\\ncould not see the gathering shadows. Meg's arms were round her,\\nMeg's cheek was on her brow, Nell was holding her hands, Baby her\\nfeet, Bunty's lips were on her hair. Like that they went with her\\nright to the Great Valley, where there\",\n \"\\nbrown hut, her wide eyes on the wonderful heavens, Judy lay dying.\\nShe was very quiet now, though she had been talking--talking of\\nall sorts of things. She told them she had no pain at all.\\n\\n\\\"Only I shall die when they move me,\\\" she said.\\n\\nMeg was sitting in a little heap on the floor beside her. She had\\nnever moved her eyes from the face on the pillow of mackintoshes, she\\nhad never opened her white lips to say one word.\\n\\nOutside the bullocks stood motionless\",\n \"it had swayed to and fro,\\nrotten through and through; now there came up across the plain a puff\\nof wind, and down it went before it. One wild ringing cry Judy gave,\\nthen she leaped across the ground, her arms outstretched to the little\\nlad running with laughing eyes and lips straight to death.\\n\\nThe crash shook the trees around, the very air seemed splintered.\\n\\nThey had heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\\nhorrible thud.\\n\\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces\",\n \", a little shaken, mightily\\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\\nlaid him down, and gathered with the others close around Judy.\\n\\nOh, the little dark, quiet head, the motionless body, in its pink,\\ncrushed frock, the small, thin, outspread hands!\\n\\n\\\"Judy!\\\" Pip said, in a voice of beseeching agony. But the only\\nanswer was the wind at the tree-tops and the frightened breathings\\nof the others.\\n\",\n \"of them would.\\n\\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\\naround Judy's lace-up boot.\\n\\nBunty was standing, with a stunned look on his white face, behind\\nthe stretcher. His eyes were on his sister's hair, but he did\\nnot dare to let there wander to her face, for fear of what he should\\nsee there. Nellie was moving all the time--now to the fence to strain\\nher eyes down the road, where the evening shadows lay heavily, now\\nto fling\",\n \"Judy again.\\n\\nShe did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt down\\nand shook her shoulder gently.\\n\\n\\\"Here's some things, Judy--ain't you goin' to eat them?\\\"\\n\\nShe shook her head very slightly.\\n\\n\\\"Have some corned beef, or some currants; there's some peel, too, if\\nyou'd rather.\\\"\\n\\nShe shook her head again. \\\"Do take them away,\\\" she said, with a\\nlittle moan.\\n\\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his\",\n \"ivered, and sat up straight. Judy's brow, grew damp, her eyes\\ndilated, her lips trembled.\\n\\n\\\"Meg!\\\" she said, in a whisper that cut the air. \\\"Oh, Meg, I'm\\nfrightened! MEG, I'm so frightened!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"God!\\\" said Meg's heart.\\n\\n\\\"Meg, say something. Meg, help me! Look at the dark, Meg. MEG,\\nI can't die! Oh, why don't they be quick?\\\"\\n\",\n \", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\\\"\\n\\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \\\"Who on earth--what--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \\\"She's in the shed,\\n\",\n \"as her feet touched the water there was a figure in the doorway.\\n\\n\\\"Judy!\\\" said a wild voice; and Pip brushed them aside and fell\\ndown beside her.\\n\\n\\\"Judy, Judy, JUDY!\\\"\\n\\nThe light flickered back in her eyes. She kissed him with pale lips\\nonce, twice; she gave him both her hands, and her last smile.\\n\\nThen the wind blew over them all, and, with a little shudder, she\\nslipped away.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER XXII\\n\\nAnd Last\\n\\n\\n\",\n \". Nell joined in in a little hysterical way, and\\nBaby began to cry.\\n\\nMeg, white as death, picked her up and hurriedly began telling her\\nthe story of the three bears for comfort.\\n\\nEsther looked a little puzzled, but, of course, never dreamt of\\nconnecting the flying figure with Judy.\\n\\nAnd the Captain seemed delightfully blind and unsuspicious. He\\nlay down on the grass and let the General swarm all over him; he\\nmade jokes with Esther; he told several stories of his young\",\n \"Judy,\\\" he said gently, \\\"but the others are\\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\\\"\\n\\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\\n\\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\\n\\n\\\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\\\" she said with a sob. \\\"They might\\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pip's gone fishing,\\\" he said, \\\"and Nell's carrying the basket\",\n \"you, Ju-Ju? You always\\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\\\"\\n\\nJudy gulped down a great lump in her throat, and her poor little\\nface grew white and drawn.\\n\\n\\\"It's all right, Essie. There, you go on down to breakfast,\\\"\\nshe said, in a voice that, only shook a little; \\\"and please\\nleave the General, Esther; I'll bring him down with me.\\\"\\n\\nEsther deposited her little fat son on the pillow, and with one\\nloving backward\",\n \"he body, would\\neither make a noble, daring, brilliant woman of her, or else she\\nwould be shipwrecked on rocks the others would never come to, and\\nit would flame up higher and higher and consume her.\\n\\n\\\"Be careful of Judy\\\" had been almost the last words of the anxious\\nmother when, in the light that comes when the world's is going out,\\nshe had seen with terrible clearness the stones and briars in the\\nway of that particular pair of small, eager feet.\\n\\nAnd she had died, and Judy was st\",\n \"\\ncoming,\\\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-pity trickled\\nfrom beneath her black lashes, and made a little clean mark down her\\ncheeks. Bunty's throat swelled at the sight of them, he had never\\nseen Judy cry as long as he could remember. He patted her thin\\nhand, he rubbed his head against her shoulder, and said, \\\"Never\\nmind, old girl,\\\" in a thick voice.\\n\\nBut that brought, half a dozen great\",\n \"her head again. \\\"Do take them away,\\\" she said, with a\\nlittle moan.\\n\\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his small, heated face.\\n\\n\\\"An' I've half killed myself to get them! Well, you ARE a mean girl!\\\"\\nhe said.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, DO go away,\\\": Judy moaned, moving her head restlessly from\\nside to side. \\\"Oh, how my feet ache! no--my head, and my side--oh!\\nI don't know what it is!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I got\",\n \"and struggled up again.\\nand staggered on.\\n\\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\\nits slow way into her wrist. Only its two back legs were left out\\nfrom under the skin, and for a long time she pulled and pulled without\\nany success. Then it broke in two, and she had to leave one half in\\nfor little Grandma and kerosene to extract on their return.\\n\\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and\",\n \"labelled with her name, a cold\\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\\nhe was doing all this to make it seem more real.\\n\\nBut now it was morning, and she could disbelieve it no longer.\\nEsther had come to her bedside and kissed her sorrowfully, her\\nbeautiful face troubled and tender. She had begged as she had\\nnever done before for a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\\nring\"\n ],\n [\n \"General was sitting on the seat next to his stern father,\\nwho had a firm hold of the back of his woolly-pelisse. He was\\nsucking his little dirty hand, and casting occasional longing\\nglances at his tan shoe, which he knew was delicious to bite.\\nOnce or twice he had pulled it off and conveyed it to his mouth,\\nbut his father intercepted it, and angrily buttoned it on again\\nin its rightful place. He wanted, too, to slither off the horrid\\nseat, and crawl all over the deck\",\n \"you, you dear old thing,\\\" said Miss Judy,\\ndancing down the room and bestowing a pat on her sister's fair head\\nas she passed. \\\"It's only the General, who's after havin' a bit\\no' fun.\\\"\\n\\nShe lifted him up out of the high chair, where he had been sitting\\ndrumming on the table with a spoon and eating sugar in the\\nintervals.\\n\\n\\\"It's real action you're going for to see, General,\\\" she said,\\ndancing to the door with him.\\n\\n\\\"Oh\",\n \"levelling of brows, and pursing of lips, always meant deep\\nand intricate calculation on his sister's part, as he knew full\\nwell.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Judy said quietly. \\\"I've got a plan that will do, I think.\\\"\\nThen a sudden fire entered her manner.\\n\\n\\\"Who is the General's father? Tell me that,\\\" she said, in a\\nrapid, eager way; \\\"and isn't it right and proper fathers should\\nlook after their sons? And doesn't he deserve we should get\\neven with him for\",\n \"neck, and kissed it till her lips ached.\\n\\nHe fought manfully against these troublesome proceedings, and at\\nlast objected, with an angry scream, to being suffocated. So she\\nflung back the clothes and got out of bed, leaving him to burrow\\nabout among the pillows, and pull feathers out of a hole in one\\nof them.\\n\\nShe dressed in a quick nervous fashion, did her hair with more\\ncare than usual, and then picked up the General and took him along\\nthe passage into the nursery. All the others were here,\",\n \"\\n\\nBut it was a very damp, miserable drive, and the General wept with\\nhardly a break from start to finish, greatly to Esther's vexation,\\nfor it was his first introduction to his grandfather.\\n\\nAt last, when everyone was beginning to feel the very end of patience\\nhad come, a high white gate broke the monotony of dripping wet\\nfences.\\n\\n\\\"Home!\\\" Esther said joyfully. She jumped the General up and down on\\nher knee.\\n\\n\\\"Little Boy Blue, Mum fell off that gate when she was three,\\\"\",\n \"on the seat between them.\\n\\\"The General loves going on the water.\\\"\\n\\nAway they sped; down the neglected carriage drive, out of the\\ngates, and away down the road. Pip, Judy of the shining eyes,\\nthe General devouring his thumb, and Pat smiling-faced once more\\nbecause in possession of the reins.\\n\\nA wind from the river swept through the belt of gum trees on the\\nCrown lands, and sent the young red blood leaping through their\\nveins; it played havoc with Judy's curls,\",\n \"s dress, fastening her own with it, and dropping\\na curtsey.\\n\\nEsther reddened a little now.\\n\\n\\\"That's the General, Judy: he always pulls the buttons off my\\nwrappers when I play with him. But I'm forgetting. Children,\\nI have bad news for you.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a breathless silence. Everyone crowded round her knees.\\n\\n\\\"Sentence has been proclaimed,\\\" said Judy dramatically: \\\"let us\\nshave our heads and don sackcloth.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your father says he cannot\",\n \"\\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and was\\ntravelling along as fast as ever his little fat legs would carry\\nhim, thinking he was racing her. Just as she, started after him he\\nlooked back, his eyes dancing, his face dimpled and mischievous, and,\\noh! so dirty..\\n\\nAnd then--ah, God!\\n\\nIt is so hard to write it. My pen has had only happy writing\\nto-do so far, and\",\n \"the proper, penitent way.\\nAnd then he put his darling arms round her neck and hugged her, and\\nsaid \\\"Ju-Ju\\\" in a choking little voice, and patted her cheeks, and\\ngave her a hundred eager, wide, wet kisses till she was better.\\n\\nThen they played chasings, and the General fell down twenty times,\\nand scratched his little knees and hands, and struggled up again.\\nand staggered on.\\n\\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\\nits slow way\",\n \"heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\\nhorrible thud.\\n\\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\\ntowards the sound!\\n\\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\\nher arms spread out.\\n\\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\\nlaid\",\n \"and isn't it right and proper fathers should\\nlook after their sons? And doesn't he deserve we should get\\neven with him for doing us out of the pantomime? And isn't the\\nAquarium too lovely to miss?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" Pip said; his slower brain did not follow such rapid\\nreasoning.\\n\\n\\\"Only I'm going to leave the General here at the Barracks for a\\ncouple of hours till we come back, his father being the proper\\nperson to watch over him.\\\" Judy grasped the General's\",\n \"now. We're in for it now, Pip--there'll be no\\nquarter.\\\"\\n\\nPip groaned; then Judy stood up.\\n\\n\\\"Let's creep down as far as the engine,\\\" she said, \\\"and see if he\\ndoes look very bad.\\\"\\n\\nThey made their way cautiously along the deck, and took up a\\nposition where they could see without being seen. The dear\\nlittle General was sitting on the seat next to his stern father,\\nwho had a firm hold of the back of his woolly-pelisse. He was\",\n \"\\nlay down on the grass and let the General swarm all over him; he\\nmade jokes with Esther; he told several stories of his young days,\\nand never even seemed to remark that his audience seemed inattentive\\nand constrained.\\n\\n\\\"Haven't you made some tea?\\\" Esther said at last. \\\"We love\\nbilly tea, and thought you would be sure to have some?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bunty hasn't come, he was to have brought the billy,\\\" Pip said,\\nhalf sulkily. He had suspicions that there\",\n \"\\\"It's real action you're going for to see, General,\\\" she said,\\ndancing to the door with him.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, Judy, what are you going to do?\\\" said Meg entreatingly.\\n\\n\\\"Ju-Ju!\\\" crowed the General, leaping almost out of Judy's arms,\\nand scenting fun with the instinct of a veteran.\\n\\nDown the passage they went, the other five behind to watch\\nproceedings. Judy sat down with him on the last step.\\n\\n\\\"Boy want chuck-chuck,\",\n \"getting\\nquite nervous about him lately--thinks he'll get broken.\\\"\\n\\nPip grumbled a minute or two, but the General gave a gurgling,\\ncaptivating laugh and held up his arms, so he took him up and\\nheld him while Judy clambered in.\\n\\n\\\"We can come back in the tram to the Quay, and then get a boat\\nback,\\\" she said, squeezing the baby on the seat between them.\\n\\\"The General loves going on the water.\\\"\\n\\nAway they sped; down the neglected carriage drive, out\",\n \"and struggled up again.\\nand staggered on.\\n\\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\\nits slow way into her wrist. Only its two back legs were left out\\nfrom under the skin, and for a long time she pulled and pulled without\\nany success. Then it broke in two, and she had to leave one half in\\nfor little Grandma and kerosene to extract on their return.\\n\\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and\",\n \".\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not a bit,\\\" said Judy, stoutly--\\\"at least, only a bit, and\\nthe Aquarium's worth that. Look how it's raining; the child will\\nget croup, or rheumatism, or something if we take him; there's\\nFather standing over on the green near the tennis-court talking to\\na man. I'll slip quietly along the veranda and into his own room,\\nand put the coat and the General on the bed; then I'll tell a\\nsoldier to go and\",\n \"tumbled out and took the General, all in a bunched-up heap,\\nand Judy alighted carefully after him, the precious coat parcel\\nin her arms. And they walked up the asphalt hill to the\\ngate leading to the officers' quarters in utter silence.\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" Pip said querulously, as they reached the top. \\\"Be\\nquick; haven't you thought of anything?\\\"\\n\\nThat levelling of brows, and pursing of lips, always meant deep\\nand intricate calculation on his sister's part, as he knew full\\nwell\",\n \"ought to be, ashamed of yourselves, SICH\\nbehaviour at a picnic. It's been a saving in oranges, though,\\nthat's a mercy.\\\"\\n\\nShe took half a dozen great fat ones from the bag, as well as four\\nor five bananas, and went back with flying steps to the belt of trees,\\nwhere the General in his holland coat could just be seen.\\n\\nHe was calmly grubbing up the earth and putting it in his little red\\nmouth when she arrived with the bananas.\\n\\nHe looked up at\",\n \"\\n\\nIt was never called \\\"Baby,\\\" either; that was the special name of\\nthe next youngest. Captain Woolcot had said, \\\"Hello, is this the\\nGeneral?\\\" when the little, red, staring-eyed morsel had been put\\ninto his arms, and the name had come into daily use, though I\\nbelieve at the christening service the curate did say something\\nabout Francis Rupert Burnand Woolcot.\\n\\nBaby was four, and was a little soft fat thing with pretty\\ncuddlesome ways, great smiling eyes, and lips very\"\n ],\n [\n \", dear, we are forgetting; there's Mother, Judy, dear--you\\nwon't be lonely! Can't you remember Mother's eyes, little Judy?\\\"\\n\\nJudy grew quiet, and still more quiet. She shut her eyes so she\\ncould not see the gathering shadows. Meg's arms were round her,\\nMeg's cheek was on her brow, Nell was holding her hands, Baby her\\nfeet, Bunty's lips were on her hair. Like that they went with her\\nright to the Great Valley, where there\",\n \"little girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill-top behind the cottage,\\nand a clump of wattle trees, dark-green now, but gold-crowned\\nand gracious in the spring.\\n\\nThis is where they left little Judy. All around it Mr. Hassal had\\nwhite tall palings put; the short grave was in the shady corner of\\nit.\\n\\nThe place looked like a tiny churchyard in a children's country\\nwhere there had only been\",\n \"heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\\nhorrible thud.\\n\\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\\ntowards the sound!\\n\\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\\nher arms spread out.\\n\\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\\nlaid\",\n \"of them would.\\n\\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\\naround Judy's lace-up boot.\\n\\nBunty was standing, with a stunned look on his white face, behind\\nthe stretcher. His eyes were on his sister's hair, but he did\\nnot dare to let there wander to her face, for fear of what he should\\nsee there. Nellie was moving all the time--now to the fence to strain\\nher eyes down the road, where the evening shadows lay heavily, now\\nto fling\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nThey went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her\\ndays, \\\"would go the softlier, sadlier\\\" because of the price that\\nhad been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air\\nof Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.\\n\\nSo when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor\\nlittle girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill\",\n \", a little shaken, mightily\\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\\nlaid him down, and gathered with the others close around Judy.\\n\\nOh, the little dark, quiet head, the motionless body, in its pink,\\ncrushed frock, the small, thin, outspread hands!\\n\\n\\\"Judy!\\\" Pip said, in a voice of beseeching agony. But the only\\nanswer was the wind at the tree-tops and the frightened breathings\\nof the others.\\n\",\n \"actual\\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\\ndespair. \\\"Judy's home!\\\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\\n\\\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\\n\",\n \"\\nbrown hut, her wide eyes on the wonderful heavens, Judy lay dying.\\nShe was very quiet now, though she had been talking--talking of\\nall sorts of things. She told them she had no pain at all.\\n\\n\\\"Only I shall die when they move me,\\\" she said.\\n\\nMeg was sitting in a little heap on the floor beside her. She had\\nnever moved her eyes from the face on the pillow of mackintoshes, she\\nhad never opened her white lips to say one word.\\n\\nOutside the bullocks stood motionless\",\n \", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\\\"\\n\\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \\\"Who on earth--what--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \\\"She's in the shed,\\n\",\n \"was in the shady corner of\\nit.\\n\\nThe place looked like a tiny churchyard in a children's country\\nwhere there had only been one death.\\n\\nOr a green fair field, with one little garden bed.\\n\\nMeg was glad the little mound looked to the east; the suns died\\nbehind it--the orange and yellow and purple suns she could not\\nbear to watch ever again while she lived.\\n\\nBut away in the east they rose tenderly always, and the light crept\\nup across the sky to the hill-top in delicate pinks and trem\",\n \"Judy,\\\" he said gently, \\\"but the others are\\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\\\"\\n\\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\\n\\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\\n\\n\\\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\\\" she said with a sob. \\\"They might\\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pip's gone fishing,\\\" he said, \\\"and Nell's carrying the basket\",\n \"became scattered. Judy took the General and\\nwent over to the belt of trees; Pip and Bunty occupied themselves\\nwith catching locusts; Baby and Nell gathered wild flowers. Meg\\nknelt down to collect the spoons and forks: and put the untouched\\nfood back into the baskets away from the ants.\\n\\n\\\"I will do this--you look hot, Miss Meg; sit down quietly,\\\" Mr.\\nGillet said.\\n\\n\\\"Thank you, but I prefer to do it myself,\\\" Miss Meg said, with\\nfreezing dignity.\\n\",\n \"a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\\nthat were Judy'\",\n \"distance away, talking in subdued voices.\\n\\nThere was nothing for them to do. The brown man had been talking--a\\nrare thing for him.\\n\\nHe had soothed the General off to sleep, and laid him in the bunk\\nwith the blue blanket tucked around him. And he had made a billy\\nof hot strong tea, and asked the children, with tears in his eyes,\\nto drink some, but none of them would.\\n\\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\\naround Judy's lace-up boot\",\n \"the stones and briars in the\\nway of that particular pair of small, eager feet.\\n\\nAnd she had died, and Judy was stumbling right amongst them now,\\nand her father could not \\\"be careful\\\" of her because he\\nabsolutely did not know how.\\n\\nAs he went up the veranda steps again and through the hall, he was\\nwishing almost prayerfully she had not been cast in so different a\\nmould from the others, wishing he could stamp out that strange\\nflame in her that made him so uneasy at times. He gave a great\\n\",\n \"\\ncoming,\\\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-pity trickled\\nfrom beneath her black lashes, and made a little clean mark down her\\ncheeks. Bunty's throat swelled at the sight of them, he had never\\nseen Judy cry as long as he could remember. He patted her thin\\nhand, he rubbed his head against her shoulder, and said, \\\"Never\\nmind, old girl,\\\" in a thick voice.\\n\\nBut that brought, half a dozen great\",\n \"and struggled up again.\\nand staggered on.\\n\\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\\nits slow way into her wrist. Only its two back legs were left out\\nfrom under the skin, and for a long time she pulled and pulled without\\nany success. Then it broke in two, and she had to leave one half in\\nfor little Grandma and kerosene to extract on their return.\\n\\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and\",\n \"ily at a\\ncertain plate, and refusing breakfast altogether; the General was\\ncrashing his own mug and plate joyously together; and Bunty\\nwas eating bread and butter in stolid silence.\\n\\nJudy, white-faced and dry-eyed, was sitting at the table, and Nell\\nand Baby were clinging to either arm. All the three days between\\nthat black Thursday and this doleful morning she had been obstinately\\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days\",\n \". Nell joined in in a little hysterical way, and\\nBaby began to cry.\\n\\nMeg, white as death, picked her up and hurriedly began telling her\\nthe story of the three bears for comfort.\\n\\nEsther looked a little puzzled, but, of course, never dreamt of\\nconnecting the flying figure with Judy.\\n\\nAnd the Captain seemed delightfully blind and unsuspicious. He\\nlay down on the grass and let the General swarm all over him; he\\nmade jokes with Esther; he told several stories of his young\",\n \"it had swayed to and fro,\\nrotten through and through; now there came up across the plain a puff\\nof wind, and down it went before it. One wild ringing cry Judy gave,\\nthen she leaped across the ground, her arms outstretched to the little\\nlad running with laughing eyes and lips straight to death.\\n\\nThe crash shook the trees around, the very air seemed splintered.\\n\\nThey had heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\\nhorrible thud.\\n\\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces\"\n ],\n [\n \"-wife, but she would not hear of it.\\n\\nAt first they had tried living in the barracks, but after a time\\nevery one in the officers' quarters rose in revolt at the pranks\\nof those graceless children, so Captain Woolcot took a house some\\ndistance up the Parramatta River, and in considerable bitterness\\nof spirit removed his family there.\\n\\nThey liked the change immensely; for there was a big wilderness\\nof a garden, two or three paddocks, numberless sheds for\\nhide-and-seek, and\",\n \". She jumped the General up and down on\\nher knee.\\n\\n\\\"Little Boy Blue, Mum fell off that gate when she was three,\\\" said she,\\nlooking at it affectionately as Pip swung it open.\\n\\nSplash through the rain again; the wheels went softly now, for the\\nway was covered with wet fallen leaves.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, where IS the house?\\\" Bunty said, peeping through Pip's arm\\non the box seat, and seeing still nothing but an endless vista of\\ngum trees. \\\"I thought, you said we were there,\",\n \"little girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill-top behind the cottage,\\nand a clump of wattle trees, dark-green now, but gold-crowned\\nand gracious in the spring.\\n\\nThis is where they left little Judy. All around it Mr. Hassal had\\nwhite tall palings put; the short grave was in the shady corner of\\nit.\\n\\nThe place looked like a tiny churchyard in a children's country\\nwhere there had only been\",\n \", lived in one, and did little else than\\nsmoke and give his opinion on the weather every morning.\\n\\nTwenty years ago he had helped to make a steady foundation for\\nthe red cottage that had arrived ready built on a bullock-dray.\\n\\nFifteen years ago he had killed with his tomahawk one of two\\nbushrangers who were trying to pick up Yarrahappini in the\\nabsence of his master, and he had carried little trembling\\nMrs. Hassal and tiny Esther to place of safety, and gone back\\nand dealt the\",\n \"it, and hurry back: think of\\nyour map,\\\" Meg returned, in a very fever of impatience at his\\nslowness.\\n\\nAnd then Bunty, utterly happy once more, turned and ran away gaily\\nup to the house. And Meg let down the slip-rail, put it back in\\nits place with trembling fingers, and fled in wild haste through\\nthe two remaining paddocks.\\n\\nThe wattle-scrub at the end was very quiet; there was not a rustle,\\nnot a sound of a voice, not a sound of the affected little\",\n \"were released from their enclosure in a state of frenzied\\ndesperation, and, with much cracking of whips and yells, mustered\\ninto a herd and driven across the plain in the direction of the road.\\nAnd some hour or two later the best \\\"beef\\\" lot were driven forth,\\nand quiet reigned at Yarrahappini once more. During the two days\\nof excitement the children all decided upon their future professions,\\nwhich were all to be of a pastoral nature.\\n\\nPip was going to be a stockman, and brand and\",\n \"and disappeared in the dips where rank grass\\nand bracken flourished. The head station consisted of quite a little\\ncommunity of cottages on the top of a hill. Years ago, when Esther\\nwas no bigger than her own little General, there had been only a rough,\\nred weather-board place on the hill-top, and a bark but or two for\\nouthouses.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Hassal had been in the saddle from morning to night, and\\nworked harder than any two of his own stockmen, and Mrs. Hassal had\\nlaid aside\",\n \"their future professions,\\nwhich were all to be of a pastoral nature.\\n\\nPip was going to be a stockman, and brand and draft cattle all the\\ndays of his life. Judy was going to be his \\\"aide-de-camp\\\", provided\\nhe let her stay in the saddle, and provided her with a whip just as\\nlong as his own. Meg thought she should like to marry the richest\\nsquatter in Australia, and have the Governor and the Premier come up\\nfor shooting and \\\"things,\\\" and give balls to which all the people\\n\",\n \"in the saddle from morning to night, and\\nworked harder than any two of his own stockmen, and Mrs. Hassal had\\nlaid aside her girlish accomplishments, her fancy work, her guitar,\\nher water-colours, and had scrubbed and cooked and washed as many a\\nsettler's wife has done before, until the anxiously watched wool\\nmarket had brought them better days.\\n\\nThen a big stone cottage reared itself slowly right in front of the\\nlittle old place with its bottle-bordered garden plot, where nothing\\nmore aristocratic than pig's\",\n \"squatter in Australia, and have the Governor and the Premier come up\\nfor shooting and \\\"things,\\\" and give balls to which all the people\\nwithin a hundred miles would come. Nell decided the would make soap\\nand candles, coloured as well as plain, when she arrived at years\\nof discretion; said Baby inclined to keeping paddocks full of pet\\nlambs that never grew into sheep.\\n\\nBunty did, not wax enthusiastic over any of the ideas.\\n\\n\\\"I'd rather be like Mr. Gillet,\\\" he said, and his eyes\",\n \"about them.\\n\\nBut in Australia a model child is--I say it not without\\nthankfulness--an unknown quantity.\\n\\nIt may be that the miasmas of naughtiness develop best in the\\nsunny brilliancy of our atmosphere. It may be that the land and\\nthe people are young-hearted together, and the children's spirits not\\ncrushed and saddened by the shadow of long years' sorrowful\\nhistory.\\n\\nThere is a lurking sparkle of joyousness and rebellion and mischief\\nin nature here, and therefore in\",\n \"\\nwere not out in distant parts of the run.\\n\\nClose to the house was a long weather-board building with a heavy,\\npadlocked door.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, let's go in,\\\" Nell said, attracted by the size of the\\npadlock; \\\"it looks like a treasure-house in a book--mayn't we\\ngo in, please, little grandma?\\\"\\n\\nThey were exploring all the buildings--the six children in a body,\\nMrs. Hassal, whom they all called \\\"little grandma,\\\" much to her\\npleasure, and Esther\",\n \"doubt if they will be back before the sun goes down, if they\\ndon't go a little quicker,\\\" Mr. Gillet said; \\\"it is lunch-time\\nnow.\\\"\\n\\nThey were in a great grassed paddock that at one end fell abruptly\\ndown to the ravine and swamp lands known as \\\"Duck Water.\\\"\\n\\nA belt of great trees made a shade at one side, and along the other\\nwas the barbed-wire fence that showed they had not got away from the\\nYarrahappini estate even yet: higher up was the lonely bark hut of\",\n \"bed-wire fence that showed they had not got away from the\\nYarrahappini estate even yet: higher up was the lonely bark hut of\\none of the stockmen.\\n\\nThey went up in a body to speak to him before he joined the bullock\\nteam, and to view his solitary dwelling.\\n\\nJust a small room it was, with a wide fireplace and chimney, where\\nhung a frying-pan, a billy, a cup, and a spoon. There was a bunk in\\none corner, with a couple of blue blankets on it, a\",\n \"\\nbread, only rations of flour to make damper for themselves. Then\\nwe give them a fixed, quantity of meat, tea, sugar, tobacco,\\ncandles, soap, and one or two other things.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where do you keep the wool and things?\\\" said Pip, who had a soul\\nabove home-made soap and metal dips for candles; \\\"I can't see any\\nshed or anything.\\\"\\n\\nMrs. Hassal told him they were a mile away, down by the creek,\\nwhere the sheep were washed and sheared at the\",\n \"by a covered way.\\n\\nA hundred yards away there was a two-roomed cottage that was occupied\\nby the son of an English baronet, who, for the consideration of\\nseventy pounds a year and rations kept the Yarrahappini business\\nbooks and gave out the stores.\\n\\nFarther still, two bark humpies stood, back to back. Tettawonga,\\na bent old black fellow, lived in one, and did little else than\\nsmoke and give his opinion on the weather every morning.\\n\\nTwenty years ago he had helped\",\n \"arm\\non the box seat, and seeing still nothing but an endless vista of\\ngum trees. \\\"I thought, you said we were there, Esther.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, the front door is not quite so near the gate as at Misrule,\\\"\\nshe said. And indeed it was not.\\n\\nIt was fifteen minutes before they even saw the chimneys, then there\\nwas another gate to be opened. A gravel drive now trimly kept,\\nhigh box round the flower-beds, a wilderness of rose bushes that\\npleased Meg's eye, two chip\",\n \"the distance on three sides was a blue hill line and\\nblue soft trees.\\n\\nAnd up near the house the trees were green and beautiful, and the\\nflowers a blaze of colour.\\n\\nBut all the stretching plain between was brown. Brown burnt grass\\nwith occasional patches of dull green, criss-crossed here and there\\nwith fences; that ran up the little hills that in places broke the\\nplain's straight line, and disappeared in the dips where rank grass\\nand bracken flourished. The head station consisted of quite a little\\ncommunity of cott\",\n \"the Captain went away, to their\\nunspeakable relief.\\n\\n\\\"Now what is this mad story?\\\" Meg said, turning to her small\\nbrother. \\\"I suppose it's one of your untruths, you bad little boy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Come and see,\\\"' Bunty returned, and he led the way through the\\npaddocks. Half-way down they met Pip and Nell, returning earlier\\nthan expected from the fishing expedition. Nellie looked sad, and\\nwas walking at a respectful distance behind her brother.\\n\\n\\\"You might\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nThey went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her\\ndays, \\\"would go the softlier, sadlier\\\" because of the price that\\nhad been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air\\nof Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.\\n\\nSo when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor\\nlittle girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill\"\n ],\n [\n \"his father.\\n\\n\\\"Go and tell Pat I want him instantly,\\\" the Captain said. He\\nhad the horse's leg in his hand and was examining it anxiously.\\n\\\"If he's not about, send Pip. I can't think how it's happened--do\\nyou know anything of this, Bunty?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, of course not! I n--never did n--n--nothing,\\\" Bunty said with\\nchattering teeth, but his father was too occupied to notice his\\nevident guilt, and bade him go at once.\\n\",\n \"been watching him,\\nand marvelling at his rare and exceeding quietness.\\n\\nBunty started, guiltily, and pulled up his stockings.\\n\\n\\\"I'm not doin' nothin',\\\" he said aggrievedly, after a minute's\\npause. Bunty always lapsed into evil grammar when agitated. \\\"Nothing\\nat all. I'm goin' to a picnic.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah, indeed!\\\" said the Captain. \\\"You looked as if you were\\nmeditating on some fresh mischief, or sor\",\n \". Nell joined in in a little hysterical way, and\\nBaby began to cry.\\n\\nMeg, white as death, picked her up and hurriedly began telling her\\nthe story of the three bears for comfort.\\n\\nEsther looked a little puzzled, but, of course, never dreamt of\\nconnecting the flying figure with Judy.\\n\\nAnd the Captain seemed delightfully blind and unsuspicious. He\\nlay down on the grass and let the General swarm all over him; he\\nmade jokes with Esther; he told several stories of his young\",\n \"the Captain went away, to their\\nunspeakable relief.\\n\\n\\\"Now what is this mad story?\\\" Meg said, turning to her small\\nbrother. \\\"I suppose it's one of your untruths, you bad little boy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Come and see,\\\"' Bunty returned, and he led the way through the\\npaddocks. Half-way down they met Pip and Nell, returning earlier\\nthan expected from the fishing expedition. Nellie looked sad, and\\nwas walking at a respectful distance behind her brother.\\n\\n\\\"You might\",\n \"distance away, talking in subdued voices.\\n\\nThere was nothing for them to do. The brown man had been talking--a\\nrare thing for him.\\n\\nHe had soothed the General off to sleep, and laid him in the bunk\\nwith the blue blanket tucked around him. And he had made a billy\\nof hot strong tea, and asked the children, with tears in his eyes,\\nto drink some, but none of them would.\\n\\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\\naround Judy's lace-up boot\",\n \"far from Misrule, and the\\nCaptain alighted, carrying his small dirty son gingerly in his\\narms. He walked slowly up the red road along which the dogcart\\nhad sped so blithesomely some six or seven hours ago, and Judy\\nand Pip followed at a respectful--a very respectful--distance.\\nAt the gate he saw them, and gave a large, angry beckon for them\\nto come up. Judy went very white, but obeyed instantly, and Pip,\\npulling himself together, brought up the rear.\",\n \"\\n\\nIt was never called \\\"Baby,\\\" either; that was the special name of\\nthe next youngest. Captain Woolcot had said, \\\"Hello, is this the\\nGeneral?\\\" when the little, red, staring-eyed morsel had been put\\ninto his arms, and the name had come into daily use, though I\\nbelieve at the christening service the curate did say something\\nabout Francis Rupert Burnand Woolcot.\\n\\nBaby was four, and was a little soft fat thing with pretty\\ncuddlesome ways, great smiling eyes, and lips very\",\n \"saw it, tossed it in the air,\\nand then asked someone to take it quickly.\\n\\nThe children dragged it all over the country with them, dropped\\nit countless times, forgot its pelisse on wet days, muffled it up\\nwhen it was hot, gave it the most astounding things to eat, and yet\\nit was the healthiest, prettiest, and most sunshiny baby that\\never sucked a wee fat thumb.\\n\\nIt was never called \\\"Baby,\\\" either; that was the special name of\\nthe next youngest. Captain Woolcot had said,\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nThey went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her\\ndays, \\\"would go the softlier, sadlier\\\" because of the price that\\nhad been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air\\nof Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.\\n\\nSo when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor\\nlittle girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill\",\n \".\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah, indeed!\\\" said the Captain. \\\"You looked as if you were\\nmeditating on some fresh mischief, or sorrowing over some old--which\\nwas it?\\\"\\n\\nBunty turned a little pale, but remarked again he \\\"wasn't doin'\\nnothin'.\\\"\\n\\nThe Captain felt in a lazy, teasing mood, and his little fat, dirty\\nson, was the only subject near.\\n\\n\\\"Suppose you come here and confess every bit of mischief you've\\ndone this week,\\\" he said gravely.\",\n \"hers, but she seemed just as fond of the other six as\\nof it, and treated it more as if it were a very entertaining\\nkitten than a real live baby, and her very own.\\n\\nIndeed at Misrule--that is the name their house always went by,\\nthough I believe there was a different one painted above the\\nbalcony--that baby seemed a gigantic joke to everyone. The\\nCaptain generally laughed when he saw it, tossed it in the air,\\nand then asked someone to take it quickly.\\n\\nThe children dragged it all over the country with them,\",\n \"\\n\\\"I?\\\" he said, and looked astonished. \\\"Indeed, no. What makes you\\nthink so, Miss Judy?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can hear it distinctly,\\\" she said. \\\"Your eyes are saying it,\\nand your left ear, not to mention the ends of your moustache.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Judy!\\\" reproved Meg, whom something had made strangely quiet.\\n\\nHe pretended to be alarmed--shut his eyes, held his left ear,\\ncovered his moustache.\\n\\n\\\"What can they be saying?\\\" he said.\",\n \"heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\\nhorrible thud.\\n\\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\\ntowards the sound!\\n\\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\\nher arms spread out.\\n\\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\\nlaid\",\n \". Boy\\ncome long with cawbawn gun, rabbit jerund drekaly, go burri, grass\\ngrow, sheep get fat-ha, ha, he, he!\\\"\\n\\n\\n**************************************\\n\\n\\\"To-morrow and to-morrow too! Rabbit, he go away quickly now. Boy\\ncome along with big gun, rabbit he afraid directly, go under the\\nground.\\\"\\n\\n**************************************\\n\\n\\nPip understood his mixed English enough to know he was making fun of\\nhim, and told him wrathfully to \\\"shut up\",\n \". \\\"Twenty kicks or blows divided by two only make\\nten, you see.\\\"\\n\\nThey went up the long stone veranda and stopped at one door.\\n\\nThere was a little knot of young officers laughing and talking\\nclose by.\\n\\n\\\"Take my word, 'twas as good as a play to see Wooly grabbing his\\nyoungster, and stuffing it into a cab, and getting in himself, all\\nwith a look of ponderous injured dignity,\\\" one said, and laughed\\nat the recollection.\\n\\nAnother blew away a cloud\",\n \"alarmed--shut his eyes, held his left ear,\\ncovered his moustache.\\n\\n\\\"What can they be saying?\\\" he said.\\n\\n \\\"'Oh that I was where I would be!\\n Then I would be where I am not:\\n But where I am I still must be,\\n And where I would be I cannot.'\\n\\n\\\"Meg, I WISH you would stop treading on my toes.\\\"\\n\\nSo after that even Mr. Gillet grew gay and talkative, to show he\\nwas enjoying himself, and the bullocks caught the infection of\",\n \"boy any longer, for she\\ncouldn't, so there.\\n\\nThe Captain took an angry step into the pantry and gave a roar of\\ncommand for Bunty to come down.\\n\\nThe boy dropped in an agony of dread and shrinking.\\n\\n\\\"Always his hands a-pickin' and stealin' and his tongue a-lyin',\\\"\\nsaid Martha Tomlinson, gazing unkindly at the unhappy child.\\n\\nTwo, three, four, five angry cuts from the riding-whip in the\\nCaptain's hands, and Bun\",\n \"laughing from his seat on the hall\\ntable. And then she popped it on the Captain's head, and put the\\ncabbage-tree on her son's, and occupied several minutes thus in pretty\\nplay.\\n\\nFinally they were ready, and moved down the hall.\\n\\n\\\"Master Bunty is locked in his room; on no account open the door,\\nMartha,\\\" was the Captain's last command.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, Jack!\\\" Esther said reproachfully.\\n\\n\\\"Oblige me by not interfering,\\\" he said; \\\"allow me\",\n \"\\nlay down on the grass and let the General swarm all over him; he\\nmade jokes with Esther; he told several stories of his young days,\\nand never even seemed to remark that his audience seemed inattentive\\nand constrained.\\n\\n\\\"Haven't you made some tea?\\\" Esther said at last. \\\"We love\\nbilly tea, and thought you would be sure to have some?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bunty hasn't come, he was to have brought the billy,\\\" Pip said,\\nhalf sulkily. He had suspicions that there\",\n \"tumbled out and took the General, all in a bunched-up heap,\\nand Judy alighted carefully after him, the precious coat parcel\\nin her arms. And they walked up the asphalt hill to the\\ngate leading to the officers' quarters in utter silence.\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" Pip said querulously, as they reached the top. \\\"Be\\nquick; haven't you thought of anything?\\\"\\n\\nThat levelling of brows, and pursing of lips, always meant deep\\nand intricate calculation on his sister's part, as he knew full\\nwell\"\n ],\n [\n \" Meg, the eldest, was only sixteen, and could not be\\nexpected to be much of a disciplinarian, and the slatternly but\\ngood-natured girl, who was supposed to combine the duties of\\nnursery-maid and housemaid, had so much to do in her second\\ncapacity that the first suffered considerably. She used to lay\\nthe nursery meals when none of the little girls could be found to\\nhelp her, and bundle on the clothes of the two youngest in the\\nmorning, but beyond that the seven had to manage for themselves\",\n \"a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true\",\n \"boy any longer, for she\\ncouldn't, so there.\\n\\nThe Captain took an angry step into the pantry and gave a roar of\\ncommand for Bunty to come down.\\n\\nThe boy dropped in an agony of dread and shrinking.\\n\\n\\\"Always his hands a-pickin' and stealin' and his tongue a-lyin',\\\"\\nsaid Martha Tomlinson, gazing unkindly at the unhappy child.\\n\\nTwo, three, four, five angry cuts from the riding-whip in the\\nCaptain's hands, and Bun\",\n \"\\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\\nsee her. \\\"Is he saving up a lot of beatings for me? And shall I\\nhave to go back the first week?\\\"\\n\\nEsther reassured her.\\n\\n\\\"You won't go back this quarter at all, very likely not next either,\\nJudy dear. He says you shall go away with some of the others for\\na change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\\\"\\n\\nWith this\",\n \"yet,\\nand everyone felt in an uncomfortable state of suspense.\\n\\n\\\"Your father says you're a disgraceful tribe,\\\" said the young\\nstepmother slowly, sitting down on the nursery rocking-chair\\na day later. She had on a trailing morning wrapper of white\\nmuslin with cherry ribbons, but there was a pin doing duty\\nfor a button in one or two places and the lace was hanging\\noff a bit at the sleeve.\\n\\n\\\"Meg, dear, you're very untidy, you know, and Judy's absolutely\",\n \"you\\nshould catch a glimpse of it--and it serves you very well right!\\nMeg, for goodness' sake give Baby some dry clothes--just look\\nat her; and, Judy, if you have any feeling for me, take off\\nthat frock. Bunty, you wicked boy, I'll call your father if\\nyou don't stop that noise. Nell, take the scissors from the\\nGeneral, he'll poke his eyes out, bless him.\\\"\\n\\nThe young stepmother leaned back in her chair and looked round\\nher tragically. \",\n \"wicked imps!\\\" she said, reaching out\\nto box all their ears, and of course failing.\\n\\nShe sat down on the bottom stair to laugh for a second, then she\\nhanded the General to Pip. \\\"To-morrow,\\\" she said, standing up\\nand hastily smoothing the rich hair that the General's hands had\\nclutched gleefully--\\\"to-morrow I shall beat every one of you\\nwith the broomstick.\\\"\\n\\nThey watched the train of her yellow' silk dress disappear into\\nthe dining-room again, and returned slowly to\",\n \"Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Next Monday,\\\" he said slowly--\\\"next Monday morning you will\\ngo to boarding school. Est\",\n \"\\nwith the broomstick.\\\"\\n\\nThey watched the train of her yellow' silk dress disappear into\\nthe dining-room again, and returned slowly to the nursery and\\ntheir interrupted tea.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER III\\n\\nVirtue Not Always Rewarded\\n\\n\\nIt was not to be expected that such an occurrence could be passed\\nentirely over, but then again it is difficult to punish seven\\nchildren at the same time. At first Captain Woolcot had requested\\nEsther to ask Miss Marsh, the governess, to give them all\",\n \"that her father could\\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\\na chickenhearted baby.\\n\\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\\nhe was doing all this to\",\n \"at the same time. At first Captain Woolcot had requested\\nEsther to ask Miss Marsh, the governess, to give them all ten\\nFrench verbs to learn; but, as Judy pointed out, the General\\nand Baby and Bunty and Nell had not arrived at the dignity of\\nFrench verbs yet, so such a punishment would be iniquitous.\\nThe sentence therefore had not been quite decided upon as yet,\\nand everyone felt in an uncomfortable state of suspense.\\n\\n\\\"Your father says you're a disgraceful tribe,\\\" said the\",\n \"\\\"Oh, Jack!\\\" Esther said reproachfully.\\n\\n\\\"Oblige me by not interfering,\\\" he said; \\\"allow me a little\\nliberty with my own children, Esther. He is an untruthful little\\nvagabond; I am ashamed to own him for my son.\\\"\\n\\nAnd Esther, reflecting on the many shiftinesses of her stepson, was\\nable to console herself with the hope that it would do him good.\\n\\nThey went a shortcut through the bush to avoid the public road, and\\nthe blue,\",\n \"a pair of crochet\\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\\n\\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance, and turned her face\\nto the wall for the rest of the evening.\\n\\nThat was what had been hanging over her so heavily all this long\\nfortnight in bed--the thought of school in the future.\\n\\n\\\"What's going to happen to me when I get better, Esther?\\\" she\\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\\nsee her. \\\"Is he saving up a lot of beatings\",\n \"hers, but she seemed just as fond of the other six as\\nof it, and treated it more as if it were a very entertaining\\nkitten than a real live baby, and her very own.\\n\\nIndeed at Misrule--that is the name their house always went by,\\nthough I believe there was a different one painted above the\\nbalcony--that baby seemed a gigantic joke to everyone. The\\nCaptain generally laughed when he saw it, tossed it in the air,\\nand then asked someone to take it quickly.\\n\\nThe children dragged it all over the country with them,\",\n \"over her mouth and held her by the hair while Esther told the\\nnews.\\n\\n\\\"None of you are to go to the pantomime. The seats were taken for\\nThursday night, and now, you very foolish children, you will all\\nhave to stay at home.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a perfect howl of dismay for a minute or two. They had\\nall been looking forward to this treat for nearly a month, and the\\ndisappointment was a really bitter one to them all.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I say, Esther, that's too bad, really!\",\n \"be found to\\nhelp her, and bundle on the clothes of the two youngest in the\\nmorning, but beyond that the seven had to manage for themselves.\\n\\nThe mother? you ask.\\n\\nOh, she was only twenty--just a lovely, laughing-faced girl, whom\\nthey all adored, and who was very little steadier and very\\nlittle more of a housekeeper than Meg. Only the youngest of the\\nbrood was hers, but she seemed just as fond of the other six as\\nof it, and treated it more as if it were a very entertaining\\nkitten than\",\n \"him for his pains.\\n\\nEsther would do her best, beg as she had never done before, coax,\\nbeseech, wheedle, threaten; and they let her go at last with that\\nassurance.\\n\\n\\\"Only I'd advise you all to be preternaturally good and quiet\\nall day,\\\" she said, looking back from the doorway. \\\"That would\\nhave most effect with him, and he is going to be at home all day.\\\"\\n\\nGOOD! It was absolutely painful to witness the virtue of those\\nchildren for the rest of the\",\n \"been proclaimed,\\\" said Judy dramatically: \\\"let us\\nshave our heads and don sackcloth.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your father says he cannot allow such conduct to go unpunished,\\nespecially as you have all been unusually tiresome lately;\\ntherefore: you are all--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To be taken away and hanged by the neck until we are dead!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Be quiet, Judy. I have tried my best to beg you off, but it\\nonly makes him more vexed. He says you are the untidiest, most\\nunruly\",\n \"he'll poke his eyes out, bless him.\\\"\\n\\nThe young stepmother leaned back in her chair and looked round\\nher tragically. She had never seen her husband so thoroughly\\nangered, and her beautiful lips quivered when she remembered how\\nhe had seemed to blame her for it all.\\n\\nMeg hadn't moved; the water was trickling slowly off Baby's\\nclothes and making a pool on the floor, Bunty was still giving\\nvent to spasmodic boos and hoos, Judy was whistling stormily,\\nand the General, mul\",\n \"in need of a wise loving, motherly\\nmother it was this same dirty-faced, heavyhearted one who sat\\nwith his small rough head against a cobwebby beam and muttered\\ndejectedly, \\\"'Twasn't my fault: 'Twas the horse:\\\"\\n\\nHe fancied something moved in the second loft, which was divided\\nfrom the one he was in by a low partition. \\\"Shoo--shoo, get away!\\\"\\nhe called, thinking it was rats. He struck the floor several times\\nwith his heavy little boots.\\n\\n\\\"Shoo\"\n ],\n [\n \"Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Next Monday,\\\" he said slowly--\\\"next Monday morning you will\\ngo to boarding school. Est\",\n \"a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true\",\n \"vision of his father crossed his mind.\\n\\n\\\"He won't know, of course,\\\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\\nmanner. \\\"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\\npresently I'll go back to school.\\\" She sank down among the straw\\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\\n\\n\\\"How far is it from your school?\\\" he said at last.\",\n \", a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\\n\\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\\nanswer.\\n\\n\\\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\\\" he continued, in the\\nsame unemotional voice. \\\"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"\\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\\nsee her. \\\"Is he saving up a lot of beatings for me? And shall I\\nhave to go back the first week?\\\"\\n\\nEsther reassured her.\\n\\n\\\"You won't go back this quarter at all, very likely not next either,\\nJudy dear. He says you shall go away with some of the others for\\na change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\\\"\\n\\nWith this\",\n \"'t to go to school,\\\" Judy continued, thinking it rapidly out.\\n\\\"Two of you could go and get some food. Tell Martha you are all\\ngoing for a picnic--she'll be glad enough not to have dinner to\\nset--then you go on. Two others can watch if the coast's clear\\nwhile I get down and across the paddocks, and once we're at the\\ncorner of the road we're safe.\\\"\\n\\nIt seemed feasible enough, and in a very short time the preparations\\nwere all made. Pip was mount\",\n \"obstinately\\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days; and she had\\npretended to everyone, and her father, that she especially thought\\nboarding school must be great fun, and that she should enjoy it\\nimmensely.\\n\\nBut this morning she had collapsed altogether. All the time before,\\nher hot childish heart had been telling her that her father could\\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled\",\n \"in these nasty\\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess\\na capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.\\nTake care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,\\na grand woman.\\\"\\n\\nThe Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study\\nbefore he could decide how he could best \\\"take care of her.\\\"\\n\\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and\",\n \", but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true.\\n\\nJudy sat bolt upright in bed at the sight of Esther's sorrowful\\nface.\\n\\n\\\"It's no good, dear; there's no way out of it,\\\" she said gently.\\n\\\"But you'll go like a brave girl, won't you, Ju-Ju? You always\\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\\\"\\n\\nJudy gulped down\",\n \"dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\\nand her hair matted and rough.\\n\\n\\\"My golly!\\\" the little boy said again, his eyes threatening\\nto start out of his head--\\\"my golly, Judy, what have you been\\ndoin'?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I--I've run away, Bunty,\\\" Judy said, in a quavering voice.\\n\\\"I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you all\\nso badly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My jiggery!\\\" Bunty said.\\n\\n\\\"I've thought it\",\n \"\\\"No, Father.\\\"\\n\\nHe moved toward the opening. \\\"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\\nwill come straight back with me this moment,\\\" he said, in an even\\nvoice. \\\"I shall take precautions to have you watched at school since\\nyou cannot be trusted. You will not return home for the Christmas\\nholidays, and probably not for those of the following June.\\\"\\n\\nIt was as bad as a sentence of death. The room swam before the girl's\\neyes, there was a singing and rushing in her ears.\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"Judy,\\\" he said gently, \\\"but the others are\\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\\\"\\n\\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\\n\\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\\n\\n\\\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\\\" she said with a sob. \\\"They might\\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pip's gone fishing,\\\" he said, \\\"and Nell's carrying the basket\",\n \"actual\\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\\ndespair. \\\"Judy's home!\\\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\\n\\\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\\n\",\n \"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?\\\" he repeated.\\n\\n\\\"No, Father,\\\" she said.\\n\\nHer face had a worn, strained look that might have touched him\\nat another time, but he was too angry to notice.\\n\\n\\\"No excuse or reason at all?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, Father.\\\"\\n\\nHe moved toward the opening. \\\"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\\nwill come straight back with\",\n \"a minute or two, and\\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\\n\\n\\\"How far is it from your school?\\\" he said at last.\\n\\n\\\"Seventy-seven miles.\\\" Judy shuddered a little. \\\"I got a lift\\nin a luggage train from Lawson to Springwood, and a ride in a cart\\nfor a little way, but I walked the rest. I've been nearly a week\\ncoming,\\\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-\",\n \"that her father could\\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\\na chickenhearted baby.\\n\\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\\nhe was doing all this to\",\n \"you. Perhaps we can catch him up. Come on, Pip,\\\"\\nand, nodding in a grave, distant manner, she turned away, and\\nwent down the veranda and through the gate with her brother.\\n\\n\\\"A nice hole we're in,\\\" he said.\\n\\nJudy nodded.\\n\\n\\\"It's about the very awfullest thing we've ever done in our lives.\\nFancy the governor carting that child all the way from here! Oh,\\nlor'!\\\"\\n\\nJudy nodded again.\\n\\n\\\"Can't\",\n \", one would think I was going to take the child to be hanged,\\nor at least was going to leave her in a penitentiary.\\\"\\n\\nA great dry sob broke from Judy's white lips.\\n\\n\\\"If you'll let me stay, Father, I'll never do another thing to vex\\nyou; and you can thrash me instead, ever so hard.\\\"\\n\\nIt was her last effort, her final hope, and she bit her poor\\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\\n\\n\\\"Let her stay--oh! do\",\n \"her head again. \\\"Do take them away,\\\" she said, with a\\nlittle moan.\\n\\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his small, heated face.\\n\\n\\\"An' I've half killed myself to get them! Well, you ARE a mean girl!\\\"\\nhe said.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, DO go away,\\\": Judy moaned, moving her head restlessly from\\nside to side. \\\"Oh, how my feet ache! no--my head, and my side--oh!\\nI don't know what it is!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I got\",\n \"a pair of crochet\\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\\n\\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance, and turned her face\\nto the wall for the rest of the evening.\\n\\nThat was what had been hanging over her so heavily all this long\\nfortnight in bed--the thought of school in the future.\\n\\n\\\"What's going to happen to me when I get better, Esther?\\\" she\\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\\nsee her. \\\"Is he saving up a lot of beatings\"\n ],\n [\n \"tained with a waist twenty-three inches round.\\\"\\n\\nAldith had not only made statements and comparisons, she had given\\nher friend practical advice, and shown her how the thing was to be\\ndone. And every night and morning Meg pulled away ruthlessly\\nat her corset laces, and crushed her beautiful little body into\\nnarrower space. She had already brought it within a girdle of\\ntwenty-one inches, which was a clear saving of two, and she had\\ntaken in all her dresses at the seams.\\n\\nBut she gave up\",\n \"friend Meg, pronouncing that\\nname to be \\\"too domestic and altogether unlovely.\\\"\\n\\nMeg glanced from her own waist to her friend's slender, beautiful\\none, and sighed profoundly. \\\"What ought I to be?\\\" she said in a\\nlow tone; and Aldith had answered, \\\"Eighteen--or nineteen,\\nMarguerite, at the most; true symmetrical grace can never be\\nobtained with a waist twenty-three inches round.\\\"\\n\\nAldith had not only made statements and comparisons, she had given\\nher friend practical\",\n \"had been sixteen, and a \\\"waist\\\" had\\nbeen the most desirable thing on earth.\\n\\nOnce she had said unwittingly,\\n\\n\\\"What a nice little figure you are getting, Meg; this new\\ndressmaker certainly fits better than Miss Quinn\\\"; and foolish\\nMeg, with a throb of delight, had redoubled her efforts.\\n\\nLynx-eyed Judy would have found her out long ago, and laughed her\\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\\nabs\",\n \"elt-fitting dress body. To walk quickly was positive pain; to\\nstoop, almost agony; but she endured it all with a heroism\\nworthy of a truly noble cause.\\n\\n\\\"How long shall I have to go on like this, Aldith?\\\" she asked\\nonce faintly, after a French lesson that she had scarcely been\\nable to sit through.\\n\\nAnd the older girl answered carelessly, \\\"Oh, you mustn't leave\\nit off, of course, but you don't feel it at all after a bit.\\\"\\n\\nWith which assurance Meg\",\n \"is tight-laced!\\\" he said; \\\"surely you must\\nhave noticed it, madam. That pressure, if it has been constant,\\nhas been enough to half kill her. Chut, chut! faint indeed--I wonder\\nshe has not taken fits or gone into a decline before this.\\\"\\n\\nThen a cloud of trouble came over Esther's beautiful face--she had\\nfailed again in her duty. Her husband was regarding her almost\\ngloomily from the sofa, where the little figure lay in its\\ncrumpled muslin dress, and her heart told her\",\n \"and laughed her\\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\\nabsence.\\n\\nAldith only lived about twenty minutes' walk from Misrule, so\\nthe two girls were always together. Twice a week they went down\\nto town in the river-boat to learn how to inquire, in polite\\nFrench, \\\"Has the baker's young daughter the yellow hat, brown\\ngloves, and umbrella of the undertaker's niece?\\\" And twice a\\nweek, after they had\",\n \"mustn't leave\\nit off, of course, but you don't feel it at all after a bit.\\\"\\n\\nWith which assurance Meg pursued her painful course.\\n\\nEsther, the only person in a position to exercise any authority\\nin the matter, had not noticed at all, and, indeed, had she done,\\nso would not have thought very gravely of it, for it was only\\nfour years since she, too, had been sixteen, and a \\\"waist\\\" had\\nbeen the most desirable thing on earth.\\n\\nOnce she had said unwittingly,\",\n \"going\\nto die, too, and if so would she be able to tell the same little\\nwife that Esther received more tenderness at his hands than she\\nhad done.\\n\\nHis reverie was interrupted by the doctor's sharp, surprised\\nvoice. He was talking to Esther, who had been hastily summoned to\\nthe scene, and who had helped to unfasten the pretty bodice.\\n\\n\\\"Why, the child is tight-laced!\\\" he said; \\\"surely you must\\nhave noticed it, madam. That pressure, if it has been constant,\",\n \"he said quietly; \\\"what\\nhave you let that horrid MacCarthy girl spoil you for? For she is\\nhorrid, though you may not think so.\\\"\\n\\nMeg did not speak or move, and he went on with a gentle earnestness\\nthat she had not thought him capable of..\\n\\n\\\"I have watched her on the boat, systematically going to work to\\nspoil you, and can't help thinking of the pity of it. I imagined\\nhow I should feel if my little sister Flossie ever fell in with\\nsuch a girl, and\",\n \"or little Meg! She was very miserable in these days, and yet it\\nwas a kind of exquisite misery that she hugged to her to keep it\\nwarm. No one guessed her secret. She would have died rather than\\nallow even Aldith to get a suspicion of it, and accepted Andrew's\\nnotes and smiles as if there was nothing more she wanted. But she\\ngrew a trifle thin and large-eyed, and used to make copious notes\\nin her diary every night, and to write a truly appalling quantity\\nof verses, in which\",\n \"ices to hide the join. This\\ndropped the skirts a good two inches, and made her look quite a\\ntall, slim figure, as she was well aware.\\n\\nAnd none of these things were very harmful.\\n\\nBut Aldith gradually grew dissatisfied with her waist.\\n\\n\\\"You're at least twenty-three, Marguerite,\\\" she said once, quite in\\na horrified way. She never called her friend Meg, pronouncing that\\nname to be \\\"too domestic and altogether unlovely.\\\"\\n\\nMeg glanced from her own waist to her friend\",\n \"inches, which was a clear saving of two, and she had\\ntaken in all her dresses at the seams.\\n\\nBut she gave up the evening game of cricket, and she never made one\\nat rounders now, much to the others' disgust. No one, to look at\\nthe sweet blossom-like face, and soft, calm eyes, could have\\nguessed what torture was being felt beneath the now pretty,\\nwelt-fitting dress body. To walk quickly was positive pain; to\\nstoop, almost agony; but she endured it all with a\",\n \"and encouraged him, and helped him to fight the world again,\\nand gave him never a hard word or look, thinking he had had plenty.\\nWhich sister's influence would be greater, Miss Meg?\\\"\\n\\nMeg's little soft mouth, was quivering, her eyes were on the ground,\\nbecause the tears would have splashed out if she had lifted them.\\n\\n\\\"Oh-h-h!\\\" she said again. \\\"Oh, how very horrid I have been--oh-h-h!\\\"\\n\\nShe covered her face with her hands, for one of her quickly gathered\\n\",\n \"ences a friendship sprang up.\\n\\nAldith had three grown-up sisters, whom she aped in everything,\\nand was considerably wiser in the world than simple-minded,\\nromantic Meg.\\n\\nShe lent Meg novels, \\\"Family Herald Supplements\\\", \\\"Young Ladies'\\nJournals\\\", and such publications, and the young girl took to them\\nwith avidity, surprised at the new world into which they took her;\\nfor Charlotte Yonge and Louisa Alcott and Miss Wetherall had hitherto\\nformed her simple and wholesome fare.\",\n \"suggest improvements as he went along.\\n\\nMeg, who had almost severed her connection with Aldith, devoted\\nherself to her sister, and waited on her hand and foot; she made her\\nall kinds of little presents--a boot-bag, with compartments; a\\nbrush-and-comb bag, with the monogram \\\"J.W.,\\\" worked in pink silk;\\na little work-basket, with needle-book, pin-cushion, and all complete.\\nJudy feared she should be compelled to betake herself to tidy habits\\non\",\n \"the\\nteasing.\\n\\nNowadays Meg spent a great deal of time in her bedroom, that she\\nhad all to herself while Judy was away. In its privacy she\\ntrimmed and retrimmed her hats, altered her dresses, read her\\nnovels, and sat in front of the looking-glass with her hair down,\\ndreaming of being quite grown up and in love. For just now both\\nto Aldith, and herself that state of life seemed the only one\\naltogether lovely and desirable. Meg used to curl herself up in a\\nbig easy-\",\n \"again,\\nand the way her soft hair fell on her forehead made him think\\nof his young dead sister.\\n\\n\\\"I BEG you to give it to me again, little Miss Meg,\\\" he said.\\n\\nMeg's heart and head had a rapid battle; the former was tender\\nand charitable, and bade her take the little ribbon and give it to\\nhim instantly; the latter said he had sinned greatly, and she must\\nshow him her disapproval by her manner, even if she yielded what he\\nasked her in the end. The head won.\\n\",\n \"and look at your own stepmother. Plenty of girls\\nare actually married at sixteen, Marguerite, and a man proposed\\nmy sister Beatrice when she was only fifteen.\\\" Meg looked\\nimpressed and thoughtful.\\n\\nThen Aldith rose to go. \\\"Mind you're in time for the boat\\nto-morrow,\\\" she said, as they reached the gate; \\\"and, Marguerite,\\nbe sure you make yourself look very nice--wear your cornflower\\ndress, and see if Mrs. Woolcot will lend you a pair of her\",\n \"I'll get taken off,\\\" Miss Aldith would say as they started; and\\nby the end of the time Meg would say longingly, \\\"How lovely it must\\nbe to know crowds of gentlemen like you do.\\\"\\n\\nSometimes one or two of them would stop and exchange a word or two,\\nand then Aldith would formally introduce Meg; often, however, the\\nlatter, who was sharp enough for all her foolishness, would fancy\\nshe detected a patronizing, amused air in these gentlemen's\\nmanners. As, indeed, there often was; they were chief\",\n \"thinking of the pity of it. I imagined\\nhow I should feel if my little sister Flossie ever fell in with\\nsuch a girl, and began to flirt and make herself conspicuous,\\nand I wondered would you mind if I spoke to you about it.\\nAre you very angry with me, Miss Meg?\\\"\\n\\nBut Meg leaned her head against the rough fence and began to\\nsob--little, dry, heartbroken sobs that went to the boy's warm\\nheart.\\n\\n\\\"I oughtn't to have spoken as I did at first--I was\"\n ],\n [\n \"a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\\nthat were Judy'\",\n \"dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\\nand her hair matted and rough.\\n\\n\\\"My golly!\\\" the little boy said again, his eyes threatening\\nto start out of his head--\\\"my golly, Judy, what have you been\\ndoin'?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I--I've run away, Bunty,\\\" Judy said, in a quavering voice.\\n\\\"I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you all\\nso badly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My jiggery!\\\" Bunty said.\\n\\n\\\"I've thought it\",\n \", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\\\"\\n\\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \\\"Who on earth--what--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \\\"She's in the shed,\\n\",\n \"her head again. \\\"Do take them away,\\\" she said, with a\\nlittle moan.\\n\\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his small, heated face.\\n\\n\\\"An' I've half killed myself to get them! Well, you ARE a mean girl!\\\"\\nhe said.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, DO go away,\\\": Judy moaned, moving her head restlessly from\\nside to side. \\\"Oh, how my feet ache! no--my head, and my side--oh!\\nI don't know what it is!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I got\",\n \"week,\\\" she said, in a troubled\\nvoice. \\\"You've got a horrid cough with sleeping outside, and I'm\\nsure you're ill. We shall have to tell Father about it. I'll beg him\\nnot to send you back, though.\\\"\\n\\nJudy started up, her eyes aflame.\\n\\n\\\"If you do,\\\" she said--\\\"if you do, I will run away this very night,\\nand walk to Melbourne, or Jerusalem, and never see any of you again!\\nHow can you, Meg! After I've\",\n \", a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\\n\\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\\nanswer.\\n\\n\\\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\\\" he continued, in the\\nsame unemotional voice. \\\"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"could not forget the shock he had received in the old loft five\\nor six weeks ago, and would have agreed if he had been bidden to take\\nher for a sojourn in the Sahara.\\n\\nThe doctor had told him the mischief done to her lungs was serious.\\n\\n\\\"I won't say she will ultimately die of consumption,\\\" he had said,\\n\\\"but there is always a danger of that vile disease in these nasty\\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever\",\n \"vision of his father crossed his mind.\\n\\n\\\"He won't know, of course,\\\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\\nmanner. \\\"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\\npresently I'll go back to school.\\\" She sank down among the straw\\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\\n\\n\\\"How far is it from your school?\\\" he said at last.\",\n \"Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Next Monday,\\\" he said slowly--\\\"next Monday morning you will\\ngo to boarding school. Est\",\n \"a change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\\\"\\n\\nWith this dread removed, Judy mended more rapidly, surprising even\\nthe doctor with her powers of recuperation.\\n\\nIn three weeks she was about the house again, thin and great-eyed,\\nbut full of nonsense and even mischief once more. The doctor's visits\\nceased; he said she had made a good recovery so far, but should\\nhave change of surroundings, and be taken a long way from sea air.\\n\\n\\\"Let\",\n \"'t to go to school,\\\" Judy continued, thinking it rapidly out.\\n\\\"Two of you could go and get some food. Tell Martha you are all\\ngoing for a picnic--she'll be glad enough not to have dinner to\\nset--then you go on. Two others can watch if the coast's clear\\nwhile I get down and across the paddocks, and once we're at the\\ncorner of the road we're safe.\\\"\\n\\nIt seemed feasible enough, and in a very short time the preparations\\nwere all made. Pip was mount\",\n \"Judy again.\\n\\nShe did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt down\\nand shook her shoulder gently.\\n\\n\\\"Here's some things, Judy--ain't you goin' to eat them?\\\"\\n\\nShe shook her head very slightly.\\n\\n\\\"Have some corned beef, or some currants; there's some peel, too, if\\nyou'd rather.\\\"\\n\\nShe shook her head again. \\\"Do take them away,\\\" she said, with a\\nlittle moan.\\n\\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his\",\n \"?\\\" he said, blinking it away.\\n\\nAnd the girl gave her old bright look up at him. \\\"Sure and they\\nkeep no pony but shank's at school,\\\" she said; \\\"were you afther\\nthinkin' I should charter a balloon?\\\"\\n\\nShe coughed again.\\n\\nMeg dropped down on her knees and put her arms round her little thin\\nsister.\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" she cried, \\\"oh, Judy, Judy! my dear, my dear!\\\"\\n\\nJudy laughed for a little time, and called\",\n \"a minute or two, and\\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\\n\\n\\\"How far is it from your school?\\\" he said at last.\\n\\n\\\"Seventy-seven miles.\\\" Judy shuddered a little. \\\"I got a lift\\nin a luggage train from Lawson to Springwood, and a ride in a cart\\nfor a little way, but I walked the rest. I've been nearly a week\\ncoming,\\\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-\",\n \"But Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining apple\\nand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"Haven't you got any more?\\\" she said anxiously. Then he\\nnoticed what a tall, gaunt, strange-looking Judy it was. Her\\nclothes were hanging round her almost in tatters, her boots were\\nburst and white with dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\\nand her hair matted and rough.\\n\\n\\\"My golly!\\\" the little boy said again,\",\n \"a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true\",\n \", but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true.\\n\\nJudy sat bolt upright in bed at the sight of Esther's sorrowful\\nface.\\n\\n\\\"It's no good, dear; there's no way out of it,\\\" she said gently.\\n\\\"But you'll go like a brave girl, won't you, Ju-Ju? You always\\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\\\"\\n\\nJudy gulped down\",\n \"time. Pip\\nused to go to school late and come back early, cajoling notes of excuse,\\nwhenever, possible, out of Esther. He even played the truant once, and\\ntook a caning for it afterwards quite good-humouredly.\\n\\nJudy still looked pale and tired, and her cough was rather troublesome;\\nbut she was fast getting her high spirits back, and was enjoying her\\nadventure immensely.\\n\\nThe only drawback was the cribbed, cabined, and confined space of\\nthe lo\",\n \"Judy,\\\" he said gently, \\\"but the others are\\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\\\"\\n\\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\\n\\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\\n\\n\\\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\\\" she said with a sob. \\\"They might\\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pip's gone fishing,\\\" he said, \\\"and Nell's carrying the basket\",\n \"But Judy's hunger! Nothing to eat since yesterday morning!\\n\\nHe remembered, with a feeling of pain even now, the horrible\\nsinking sensation he had experienced last week when for punishment\\nhe had been sent to bed without his tea. And Judy had forgone\\nthree meals! He shut his lips tightly, and a light of almost\\nheroic resolve came into his eyes. Round at the side of the house\\nwas the window to the pantry; he had often gazed longingly up at it,\\nbut had never ventured to attempt the ascent, for there was\"\n ],\n [\n \"a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\\nthat were Judy'\",\n \"Judy,\\\" he said gently, \\\"but the others are\\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\\\"\\n\\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\\n\\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\\n\\n\\\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\\\" she said with a sob. \\\"They might\\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pip's gone fishing,\\\" he said, \\\"and Nell's carrying the basket\",\n \"in and taken to her bed long ago.\\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\\nthat were Judy's characteristics.\\n\\n\\\"Didn't you have any pain?\\\" he asked, quite taken aback to find such\\nspirits and so serious a condition together.\\n\\n\\\"H'm, in my side sometimes,\\\" she answered carelessly. \\\"How long\\nwill it be before I can get up, Doctor?\\\" She used to ask the latter\\nquestion of him every morning, though, if the truth were known, she\\nfelt secretly\",\n \"a change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\\\"\\n\\nWith this dread removed, Judy mended more rapidly, surprising even\\nthe doctor with her powers of recuperation.\\n\\nIn three weeks she was about the house again, thin and great-eyed,\\nbut full of nonsense and even mischief once more. The doctor's visits\\nceased; he said she had made a good recovery so far, but should\\nhave change of surroundings, and be taken a long way from sea air.\\n\\n\\\"Let\",\n \"could not forget the shock he had received in the old loft five\\nor six weeks ago, and would have agreed if he had been bidden to take\\nher for a sojourn in the Sahara.\\n\\nThe doctor had told him the mischief done to her lungs was serious.\\n\\n\\\"I won't say she will ultimately die of consumption,\\\" he had said,\\n\\\"but there is always a danger of that vile disease in these nasty\\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever\",\n \"her head again. \\\"Do take them away,\\\" she said, with a\\nlittle moan.\\n\\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his small, heated face.\\n\\n\\\"An' I've half killed myself to get them! Well, you ARE a mean girl!\\\"\\nhe said.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, DO go away,\\\": Judy moaned, moving her head restlessly from\\nside to side. \\\"Oh, how my feet ache! no--my head, and my side--oh!\\nI don't know what it is!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I got\",\n \"the difficulties. The place was very\\nfar away certainly, but then it was Esther's old home, and she had\\nnot seen it since her marriage. She would grow strong again there\\nvery quickly.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, and Judy, too.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah-h-h!\\\" he said.\\n\\nTwo of the lines smoothed themselves carefully from his brow.\\n\\n\\\"And Meg, because I mentioned she was looking pale.\\\"\\n\\nThe Captain placed the cigar back in the case. He forgot there was\\nsuch a thing as gout.\\n\\n\\\"The\",\n \"Judy's bed,\\nsoft and warm, was in a corner; she had a chair to sit in, a\\ntable to eat at, even a basin in which to perform her ablutions.\\nAnd she had company all day; and nearly always all night. Once Meg\\nhad stolen away, after fastening her bedroom door, and had shared the\\nbed in the loft; once Nellie had gone, and the other night Pip had\\ntaken a couple of blankets and made himself a shakedown among the straw.\\nThey used to pay her visits at all hours\",\n \"ily at a\\ncertain plate, and refusing breakfast altogether; the General was\\ncrashing his own mug and plate joyously together; and Bunty\\nwas eating bread and butter in stolid silence.\\n\\nJudy, white-faced and dry-eyed, was sitting at the table, and Nell\\nand Baby were clinging to either arm. All the three days between\\nthat black Thursday and this doleful morning she had been obstinately\\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days\",\n \"\\ncoming,\\\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-pity trickled\\nfrom beneath her black lashes, and made a little clean mark down her\\ncheeks. Bunty's throat swelled at the sight of them, he had never\\nseen Judy cry as long as he could remember. He patted her thin\\nhand, he rubbed his head against her shoulder, and said, \\\"Never\\nmind, old girl,\\\" in a thick voice.\\n\\nBut that brought, half a dozen great\",\n \"time. Pip\\nused to go to school late and come back early, cajoling notes of excuse,\\nwhenever, possible, out of Esther. He even played the truant once, and\\ntook a caning for it afterwards quite good-humouredly.\\n\\nJudy still looked pale and tired, and her cough was rather troublesome;\\nbut she was fast getting her high spirits back, and was enjoying her\\nadventure immensely.\\n\\nThe only drawback was the cribbed, cabined, and confined space of\\nthe lo\",\n \"\\n (B)--sure, and don't I lo-o-ove you and delaight to plaize you?\\\"\\n\\nHe went in again slowly, thoughtfully. Judy always mystified\\nhim. He understood her the least of any of his children, and\\nsometimes the thought of her worried him. At present she was only\\na sharp, clever, and frequently impertinent child; but he felt\\nshe was utterly different from the other six, and it gave him\\nan aggrieved kind of feeling when he thought about it, which was\\nnot very often.\",\n \", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\\\"\\n\\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \\\"Who on earth--what--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \\\"She's in the shed,\\n\",\n \"in these nasty\\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess\\na capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.\\nTake care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,\\na grand woman.\\\"\\n\\nThe Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study\\nbefore he could decide how he could best \\\"take care of her.\\\"\\n\\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and\",\n \"a crisis, had fallen\\nto catching flies, and was viciously taking off their wings.\\n\\nIt was a wretched meal: The bell sounded for the downstairs\\nbreakfast, and Esther had to go. Everyone offered Judy everything\\non the table, and spoke gently and politely to her. She seemed\\nto be apart from them, a person not to be lightly treated in the\\ndignity of this great trouble. Her dress, too, was quite new--a\\nneat blue serge fresh from the dressmaker's hands; her boots\\nwere blacked and bright\",\n \"Judy again.\\n\\nShe did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt down\\nand shook her shoulder gently.\\n\\n\\\"Here's some things, Judy--ain't you goin' to eat them?\\\"\\n\\nShe shook her head very slightly.\\n\\n\\\"Have some corned beef, or some currants; there's some peel, too, if\\nyou'd rather.\\\"\\n\\nShe shook her head again. \\\"Do take them away,\\\" she said, with a\\nlittle moan.\\n\\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his\",\n \"and struggled up again.\\nand staggered on.\\n\\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\\nits slow way into her wrist. Only its two back legs were left out\\nfrom under the skin, and for a long time she pulled and pulled without\\nany success. Then it broke in two, and she had to leave one half in\\nfor little Grandma and kerosene to extract on their return.\\n\\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and\",\n \"week,\\\" she said, in a troubled\\nvoice. \\\"You've got a horrid cough with sleeping outside, and I'm\\nsure you're ill. We shall have to tell Father about it. I'll beg him\\nnot to send you back, though.\\\"\\n\\nJudy started up, her eyes aflame.\\n\\n\\\"If you do,\\\" she said--\\\"if you do, I will run away this very night,\\nand walk to Melbourne, or Jerusalem, and never see any of you again!\\nHow can you, Meg! After I've\",\n \"actual\\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\\ndespair. \\\"Judy's home!\\\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\\n\\\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\\n\",\n \", one would think I was going to take the child to be hanged,\\nor at least was going to leave her in a penitentiary.\\\"\\n\\nA great dry sob broke from Judy's white lips.\\n\\n\\\"If you'll let me stay, Father, I'll never do another thing to vex\\nyou; and you can thrash me instead, ever so hard.\\\"\\n\\nIt was her last effort, her final hope, and she bit her poor\\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\\n\\n\\\"Let her stay--oh! do\"\n ],\n [\n \"and disappeared in the dips where rank grass\\nand bracken flourished. The head station consisted of quite a little\\ncommunity of cottages on the top of a hill. Years ago, when Esther\\nwas no bigger than her own little General, there had been only a rough,\\nred weather-board place on the hill-top, and a bark but or two for\\nouthouses.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Hassal had been in the saddle from morning to night, and\\nworked harder than any two of his own stockmen, and Mrs. Hassal had\\nlaid aside\",\n \"arm\\non the box seat, and seeing still nothing but an endless vista of\\ngum trees. \\\"I thought, you said we were there, Esther.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, the front door is not quite so near the gate as at Misrule,\\\"\\nshe said. And indeed it was not.\\n\\nIt was fifteen minutes before they even saw the chimneys, then there\\nwas another gate to be opened. A gravel drive now trimly kept,\\nhigh box round the flower-beds, a wilderness of rose bushes that\\npleased Meg's eye, two chip\",\n \"his master, and he had carried little trembling\\nMrs. Hassal and tiny Esther to place of safety, and gone back\\nand dealt the other one a blow on the head that stunned him\\ntill assistance came.\\n\\nSo, of course, he had earned his right to the cottage and the\\ndaily rations and the pipe that never stirred from his lips.\\n\\nTwo of the station hands lived in the other cottage when they\\nwere not out in distant parts of the run.\\n\\nClose to the house was a long weather-board building with a heavy,\\npadlocked door\",\n \"\\n\\nMrs. Hassal told him they were a mile away, down by the creek,\\nwhere the sheep were washed and sheared at the proper season. But\\nthe heat was too much to make even Pip want to go just then, so they\\nattached themselves to Mr. Hassal, leaving little grandma with\\nEsther, the General, and Baby, and went over to the brick stables\\nnear.\\n\\nThere were three or four buggies under cover, but no horses at all,\\nthey were farther afield. Across the paddock they went\",\n \"pipe like Tettawonga and the rest of the men his happiness would be\\ncomplete and his manhood attained.\\n\\nHe reached home as tired as \\\"a dozen dogs and a dingo,\\\" and\\nentertained his sisters and Bunty with a graphic account of the\\nday's proceedings, dwelling lengthily on his own prowess and the\\nmanifold perils he had escaped.\\n\\nThe next day both Esther and Judy rode with the others to the yards\\nto see the departures.\\n\\nThe best of the contingent, which Mr. Hassal had only wanted\",\n \"\\n\\nBut it was a very damp, miserable drive, and the General wept with\\nhardly a break from start to finish, greatly to Esther's vexation,\\nfor it was his first introduction to his grandfather.\\n\\nAt last, when everyone was beginning to feel the very end of patience\\nhad come, a high white gate broke the monotony of dripping wet\\nfences.\\n\\n\\\"Home!\\\" Esther said joyfully. She jumped the General up and down on\\nher knee.\\n\\n\\\"Little Boy Blue, Mum fell off that gate when she was three,\\\"\",\n \"the distance on three sides was a blue hill line and\\nblue soft trees.\\n\\nAnd up near the house the trees were green and beautiful, and the\\nflowers a blaze of colour.\\n\\nBut all the stretching plain between was brown. Brown burnt grass\\nwith occasional patches of dull green, criss-crossed here and there\\nwith fences; that ran up the little hills that in places broke the\\nplain's straight line, and disappeared in the dips where rank grass\\nand bracken flourished. The head station consisted of quite a little\\ncommunity of cott\",\n \"in the saddle from morning to night, and\\nworked harder than any two of his own stockmen, and Mrs. Hassal had\\nlaid aside her girlish accomplishments, her fancy work, her guitar,\\nher water-colours, and had scrubbed and cooked and washed as many a\\nsettler's wife has done before, until the anxiously watched wool\\nmarket had brought them better days.\\n\\nThen a big stone cottage reared itself slowly right in front of the\\nlittle old place with its bottle-bordered garden plot, where nothing\\nmore aristocratic than pig's\",\n \"\\nseemed no one had come to meet them.\\n\\nThe sound of wet wheels slushing through puddles, the crack of a whip,\\nthe even falling of horses' feet, and they were all outside again,\\nlooking beyond the white railway palings to the road.\\n\\nThere were a big, covered waggonette driven by a wide yellow oil-skin\\nwith a man somewhere in its interior, and a high buggy, from which an\\nimmensely tall man was climbing.\\n\\n\\\"Father!\\\"\\n\\nEsther rushed out into the rain. She put her arms\",\n \", lived in one, and did little else than\\nsmoke and give his opinion on the weather every morning.\\n\\nTwenty years ago he had helped to make a steady foundation for\\nthe red cottage that had arrived ready built on a bullock-dray.\\n\\nFifteen years ago he had killed with his tomahawk one of two\\nbushrangers who were trying to pick up Yarrahappini in the\\nabsence of his master, and he had carried little trembling\\nMrs. Hassal and tiny Esther to place of safety, and gone back\\nand dealt the\",\n \"able on horseback. Nellie was disappointed in the sheep,\\nexceedingly so. She had expected to find great snow-white beautiful\\ncreatures that would be tame and allow her to put ribbon on their\\nnecks and lead them about.\\n\\nFrom the hill-top the second morning she saw paddock after paddock,\\neach with a brown, slowly moving mass; she ran down through the\\nsunshine with Bunty to view them more closely.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, WHAT a shame!\\\" she exclaimed, actual tears of disappointment\\nspringing to her eyes\",\n \"Judy and Pip could\\nnot hear, and was given a ruggy horse that had carried Mrs. Hassal\\neighteen years ago. Each animal was to be at the complete disposal\\nof the young people during their stay at Yarrahappini, but the rides\\nwould have to take place before breakfast or after tea, they were told,\\nif they wanted any pleasure out of them; the rest of the day was\\nunbearable on horseback. Nellie was disappointed in the sheep,\\nexceedingly so. She had expected to find great snow-white beautiful\",\n \"calling forth a word or two of \\\"foreign language,\\\" when\\nEsther came in with a smile on her lips and an open letter in her\\nhands.\\n\\n\\\"From Mother,\\\" she said. \\\"Yarrahappini's a wilderness, it seems, and\\nshe wants me to go up, and take the General with me, for a few weeks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah!\\\" he said.\\n\\nIt would certainly solve one of the difficulties. The place was very\\nfar away certainly, but then it was Esther's old home, and she had\\nnot seen it since\",\n \"doubt if they will be back before the sun goes down, if they\\ndon't go a little quicker,\\\" Mr. Gillet said; \\\"it is lunch-time\\nnow.\\\"\\n\\nThey were in a great grassed paddock that at one end fell abruptly\\ndown to the ravine and swamp lands known as \\\"Duck Water.\\\"\\n\\nA belt of great trees made a shade at one side, and along the other\\nwas the barbed-wire fence that showed they had not got away from the\\nYarrahappini estate even yet: higher up was the lonely bark hut of\",\n \"\\nbread, only rations of flour to make damper for themselves. Then\\nwe give them a fixed, quantity of meat, tea, sugar, tobacco,\\ncandles, soap, and one or two other things.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where do you keep the wool and things?\\\" said Pip, who had a soul\\nabove home-made soap and metal dips for candles; \\\"I can't see any\\nshed or anything.\\\"\\n\\nMrs. Hassal told him they were a mile away, down by the creek,\\nwhere the sheep were washed and sheared at the\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nThey went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her\\ndays, \\\"would go the softlier, sadlier\\\" because of the price that\\nhad been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air\\nof Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.\\n\\nSo when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor\\nlittle girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill\",\n \"-wife, but she would not hear of it.\\n\\nAt first they had tried living in the barracks, but after a time\\nevery one in the officers' quarters rose in revolt at the pranks\\nof those graceless children, so Captain Woolcot took a house some\\ndistance up the Parramatta River, and in considerable bitterness\\nof spirit removed his family there.\\n\\nThey liked the change immensely; for there was a big wilderness\\nof a garden, two or three paddocks, numberless sheds for\\nhide-and-seek, and\",\n \"bed-wire fence that showed they had not got away from the\\nYarrahappini estate even yet: higher up was the lonely bark hut of\\none of the stockmen.\\n\\nThey went up in a body to speak to him before he joined the bullock\\nteam, and to view his solitary dwelling.\\n\\nJust a small room it was, with a wide fireplace and chimney, where\\nhung a frying-pan, a billy, a cup, and a spoon. There was a bunk in\\none corner, with a couple of blue blankets on it, a\",\n \", and she bit her poor\\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\\n\\n\\\"Let her stay--oh! do letter stay, we'll be good always,\\\" came\\nin a chorus from the veranda. And, \\\"Let her stay, John, PLEASE!\\\"\\nEsther called in a tone as entreating as any of the children.\\n\\nBut the Captain sprang into the dogcart and seized the reins from\\nPat in a burst of anger.\\n\\n\\\"I think you're all demented!\\\" he cried. \\\"She'\",\n \"their future professions,\\nwhich were all to be of a pastoral nature.\\n\\nPip was going to be a stockman, and brand and draft cattle all the\\ndays of his life. Judy was going to be his \\\"aide-de-camp\\\", provided\\nhe let her stay in the saddle, and provided her with a whip just as\\nlong as his own. Meg thought she should like to marry the richest\\nsquatter in Australia, and have the Governor and the Premier come up\\nfor shooting and \\\"things,\\\" and give balls to which all the people\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"it had swayed to and fro,\\nrotten through and through; now there came up across the plain a puff\\nof wind, and down it went before it. One wild ringing cry Judy gave,\\nthen she leaped across the ground, her arms outstretched to the little\\nlad running with laughing eyes and lips straight to death.\\n\\nThe crash shook the trees around, the very air seemed splintered.\\n\\nThey had heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\\nhorrible thud.\\n\\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces\",\n \"heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\\nhorrible thud.\\n\\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\\ntowards the sound!\\n\\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\\nher arms spread out.\\n\\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\\nlaid\",\n \"then--ah, God!\\n\\nIt is so hard to write it. My pen has had only happy writing\\nto-do so far, and now!\\n\\n\\\"You rogue!\\\" Judy called, pretending to run very quickly.\\nThen the whole world seemed to rise up before her.\\n\\nThere was a tree falling, one of the great, gaunt, naked things that\\nhad been ringbarked long ago. All day it had swayed to and fro,\\nrotten through and through; now there came up across the plain a puff\\nof wind, and down it\",\n \", a little shaken, mightily\\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\\nlaid him down, and gathered with the others close around Judy.\\n\\nOh, the little dark, quiet head, the motionless body, in its pink,\\ncrushed frock, the small, thin, outspread hands!\\n\\n\\\"Judy!\\\" Pip said, in a voice of beseeching agony. But the only\\nanswer was the wind at the tree-tops and the frightened breathings\\nof the others.\\n\",\n \"and struggled up again.\\nand staggered on.\\n\\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\\nits slow way into her wrist. Only its two back legs were left out\\nfrom under the skin, and for a long time she pulled and pulled without\\nany success. Then it broke in two, and she had to leave one half in\\nfor little Grandma and kerosene to extract on their return.\\n\\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and\",\n \"actual\\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\\ndespair. \\\"Judy's home!\\\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\\n\\\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\\n\",\n \"But Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining apple\\nand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"Haven't you got any more?\\\" she said anxiously. Then he\\nnoticed what a tall, gaunt, strange-looking Judy it was. Her\\nclothes were hanging round her almost in tatters, her boots were\\nburst and white with dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\\nand her hair matted and rough.\\n\\n\\\"My golly!\\\" the little boy said again,\",\n \"and presently Bunty\\ncame in backward, lugging a great, strange thing.\\n\\nIt seemed to be five or six heavy pieces of board nailed together\\nhaphazard.\\n\\n\\\"It's a chair,\\\" he explained, wiping the perspiration from his\\nforehead. \\\"Oh! I'm going to put some canvas across it, of course,\\nso you won't fall through; but I thought I'd show it you first.\\\"\\n\\nJudy's eyes smiled, but she thanked him warmly. \\\"I wasn't\",\n \"were there still, the ham-bone and the pillow occupied\\nthe same places; the only difference being the former had a black\\ncovering of ants now, and a wind had been playing with the pillow,\\nand had carried the feathers in all directions.\\n\\nHe crossed the floor, not softly, but just with his usual measured\\nmilitary-step. Nothing moved. He reached the partition and looked\\nover.\\n\\nJudy lay across the improvised bed, sleeping a sleep of utter\\nexhaustion after her rapid flight from the river. She had a frock of\\n\",\n \"a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\\nthat were Judy'\",\n \"faded, and only an indistinct mass of soft black loomed across\\nthe light. Behind the trees the fire was going out, here and there\\nwere yellow, vivid streaks yet, but the flaming sun-edge, had dipped\\nbeyond the world, and the purple, delicate veil was dropping down.\\n\\nA curlew's note broke the silence, wild, mournful, unearthly. Meg\\nshivered, and sat up straight. Judy's brow, grew damp, her eyes\\ndilated, her lips trembled.\\n\\n\",\n \"of them would.\\n\\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\\naround Judy's lace-up boot.\\n\\nBunty was standing, with a stunned look on his white face, behind\\nthe stretcher. His eyes were on his sister's hair, but he did\\nnot dare to let there wander to her face, for fear of what he should\\nsee there. Nellie was moving all the time--now to the fence to strain\\nher eyes down the road, where the evening shadows lay heavily, now\\nto fling\",\n \"ry as the others she could not feel,\\nwith this disappointment at her heart, this shaken trust in human\\nnature.\\n\\nHow weak he was, she thought, how ignoble!\\n\\nAll her pity was swept away in a young, large indignation.\\n\\nShe had hardly shaken hands when they had met in the morning,\\nand all the long drive she was persistently cold towards him.\\n\\nAfter lunch the party became scattered. Judy took the General and\\nwent over to the belt of trees; Pip and Bunty occupied themselves\\nwith catching locust\",\n \"a crisis, had fallen\\nto catching flies, and was viciously taking off their wings.\\n\\nIt was a wretched meal: The bell sounded for the downstairs\\nbreakfast, and Esther had to go. Everyone offered Judy everything\\non the table, and spoke gently and politely to her. She seemed\\nto be apart from them, a person not to be lightly treated in the\\ndignity of this great trouble. Her dress, too, was quite new--a\\nneat blue serge fresh from the dressmaker's hands; her boots\\nwere blacked and bright\",\n \"believed, had anyone told him previously, that\\nhe could have done anything so absolutely noble, and the thought\\ncomforted him even while the cuts and scratches smarted. He tried to\\nstifle his sobs as he reached the shed, and even stuffed half a\\nhandful of currants into his mouth towards that end.\\n\\nBut it was a very tearful, scratched, miserable face that bobbed up\\nthe opening near Judy again.\\n\\nShe did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt down\\nand shook her shoulder gently.\\n\\n\",\n \"five behind to watch\\nproceedings. Judy sat down with him on the last step.\\n\\n\\\"Boy want chuck-chuck, pretty chuck-chuck?\\\" she said insidiously.\\n\\n\\\"Chuck-chuck, chuck-a-chuck,\\\" he gurgled, looking all around\\nfor his favourite friends.\\n\\n\\\"Dad got lots--all THIS many,\\\" said Judy, opening her arms very\\nwide to denote the number in her father's possession. \\\"Boydie,\\ngo get them!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Chuck-chuck,\\\" crow\",\n \", but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true.\\n\\nJudy sat bolt upright in bed at the sight of Esther's sorrowful\\nface.\\n\\n\\\"It's no good, dear; there's no way out of it,\\\" she said gently.\\n\\\"But you'll go like a brave girl, won't you, Ju-Ju? You always\\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\\\"\\n\\nJudy gulped down\",\n \"Judy,\\\" he said gently, \\\"but the others are\\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\\\"\\n\\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\\n\\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\\n\\n\\\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\\\" she said with a sob. \\\"They might\\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pip's gone fishing,\\\" he said, \\\"and Nell's carrying the basket\",\n \"the stones and briars in the\\nway of that particular pair of small, eager feet.\\n\\nAnd she had died, and Judy was stumbling right amongst them now,\\nand her father could not \\\"be careful\\\" of her because he\\nabsolutely did not know how.\\n\\nAs he went up the veranda steps again and through the hall, he was\\nwishing almost prayerfully she had not been cast in so different a\\nmould from the others, wishing he could stamp out that strange\\nflame in her that made him so uneasy at times. He gave a great\\n\",\n \", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\\\"\\n\\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \\\"Who on earth--what--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \\\"She's in the shed,\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"people generally are who have quicksilver instead of blood in\\ntheir veins; she had a small, eager, freckled face, with very,\\nbright dark eyes, a small, determined mouth, and a mane of untidy,\\ncurly dark hair that was the trial of her life.\\n\\nWithout doubt she was the worst of the seven, probably because she\\nwas the cleverest. Her brilliant inventive powers plunged them all\\ninto ceaseless scrapes, and though she often bore the brunt of the\\nblame with equanimity, they used to turn\",\n \"be found to\\nhelp her, and bundle on the clothes of the two youngest in the\\nmorning, but beyond that the seven had to manage for themselves.\\n\\nThe mother? you ask.\\n\\nOh, she was only twenty--just a lovely, laughing-faced girl, whom\\nthey all adored, and who was very little steadier and very\\nlittle more of a housekeeper than Meg. Only the youngest of the\\nbrood was hers, but she seemed just as fond of the other six as\\nof it, and treated it more as if it were a very entertaining\\nkitten than\",\n \" Meg, the eldest, was only sixteen, and could not be\\nexpected to be much of a disciplinarian, and the slatternly but\\ngood-natured girl, who was supposed to combine the duties of\\nnursery-maid and housemaid, had so much to do in her second\\ncapacity that the first suffered considerably. She used to lay\\nthe nursery meals when none of the little girls could be found to\\nhelp her, and bundle on the clothes of the two youngest in the\\nmorning, but beyond that the seven had to manage for themselves\",\n \"saw it, tossed it in the air,\\nand then asked someone to take it quickly.\\n\\nThe children dragged it all over the country with them, dropped\\nit countless times, forgot its pelisse on wet days, muffled it up\\nwhen it was hot, gave it the most astounding things to eat, and yet\\nit was the healthiest, prettiest, and most sunshiny baby that\\never sucked a wee fat thumb.\\n\\nIt was never called \\\"Baby,\\\" either; that was the special name of\\nthe next youngest. Captain Woolcot had said,\",\n \"\\n\\nIt was never called \\\"Baby,\\\" either; that was the special name of\\nthe next youngest. Captain Woolcot had said, \\\"Hello, is this the\\nGeneral?\\\" when the little, red, staring-eyed morsel had been put\\ninto his arms, and the name had come into daily use, though I\\nbelieve at the christening service the curate did say something\\nabout Francis Rupert Burnand Woolcot.\\n\\nBaby was four, and was a little soft fat thing with pretty\\ncuddlesome ways, great smiling eyes, and lips very\",\n \"Bunty was still giving\\nvent to spasmodic boos and hoos, Judy was whistling stormily,\\nand the General, mulcted of the scissors, was licking his own\\nmuddy shoe all over with his dear little red tongue.\\n\\nA sob rose in her throat, two tears welled up in her eyes and\\nfell down her smooth, lovely cheeks. \\\"Seven of you, and I'm only\\ntwenty!\\\" she said pitifully. \\\"Oh! it's too bad--oh dear! it\\nis too bad.\\\"\\n\",\n \" \\\"Come down the garden, Marguerite,\\\" she said,\\ntaking no notice whatever of Baby, who had, with much difficulty,\\nbeguiled her eldest sister into telling her the ever delightful\\nlegend of the three little pigs.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, no, by the hair of my chiny-chin-chin, then I'll huff and\\nI'll puff and I'll blow your house in,\\\" had only been said twice,\\nand the exciting part was still to come.\\n\\nBaby looked up with stormy eyes.\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"yet, have I? He was a little like\\nJudy, only handsomer and taller, and he was fourteen, and had as\\ngood an opinion of himself and as poor a one of girls as boys of\\nthat age generally have.\\n\\nMeg was the eldest of the family, and had a long, fair plait that\\nBunty used to delight in pulling; a sweet, rather dreamy face,\\nand a powdering of pretty freckles that occasioned her much\\ntribulation of spirit.\\n\\nIt was generally believed in the family that she wrote poetry\\n\",\n \"\\n\\\"Oh, shut up, and hang your grandmother!\\\" said Pip, brushing past\\nher, and going a circuitous voyage to the shed lest she should be\\nwatching.\\n\\nHe knelt down beside his little sister and fed her with morsels of\\nchicken and sips of wine, and stroked her wild hair, and called\\nher old girl fifty times, and besought her to eat just a little more\\nand a little more.\\n\\nAnd Judy, catching the look in the brown, wet eyes above her, ate all\\nhe offered, though the first mouthful\",\n \", who was curled up in an armchair, deep in\\na book. But she said it mechanically, and only as a matter of\\nduty, being three years older than Judy.\\n\\n\\\"Think of the times we could have if he didn't live with us,\\\"\\nJudy continued, calmly disregardful. \\\"Why, we'd have fowl\\nthree times a day, and the pantomime seven nights a week.\\\"\\n\\nNell suggested that it was not quite usual to have pantomimic\\nperformances on the seventh day,\",\n \"ened himself in her arms, and she was not strong enough to hold\\nhim. Finally he dropped off into an exhausted sleep, drawing deep,\\nsobbing breaths and little hiccoughs of sorrow.\\n\\nThen Bunty was discovered asleep on the floor with his head under a seat,\\nand had to be lifted into an easier position; and Baby, bolt upright\\nin a corner, was nodding like a little pink-and-white daisy the sun has\\nbeen too much for.\\n\\nOne by one the long hours dragged away; farther and farther through\\nthe silent,\",\n \"hers, but she seemed just as fond of the other six as\\nof it, and treated it more as if it were a very entertaining\\nkitten than a real live baby, and her very own.\\n\\nIndeed at Misrule--that is the name their house always went by,\\nthough I believe there was a different one painted above the\\nbalcony--that baby seemed a gigantic joke to everyone. The\\nCaptain generally laughed when he saw it, tossed it in the air,\\nand then asked someone to take it quickly.\\n\\nThe children dragged it all over the country with them,\",\n \"yet,\\nand everyone felt in an uncomfortable state of suspense.\\n\\n\\\"Your father says you're a disgraceful tribe,\\\" said the young\\nstepmother slowly, sitting down on the nursery rocking-chair\\na day later. She had on a trailing morning wrapper of white\\nmuslin with cherry ribbons, but there was a pin doing duty\\nfor a button in one or two places and the lace was hanging\\noff a bit at the sleeve.\\n\\n\\\"Meg, dear, you're very untidy, you know, and Judy's absolutely\",\n \"want to go!\\\" The child was\\ncrying now. \\\"Oh, Meg, I want to be alive! How'd you like to die,\\nMeg, when you're only thirteen? Think how lonely I'll be without\\nyou all. Oh, Meg! Oh, Pip, Pip! Oh, Baby! Nell!\\\"\\n\\nThe tears streamed down her cheeks; her chest rose and fell.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, say something, Meg!--hymns!--anything!\\\"\\n\\nHalf the book of \\\"Hymns Ancient and\",\n \"\\n\\nBaby addressed herself to her porridge for one minute, but the\\nnext her feelings overcame her, and, with a little wail, she rushed\\nround the table to Judy, and hung on her arm sobbing. This\\ndestroyed the balance of the whole company. Nell got the other arm\\nand swayed to and fro in an excess of misery. Meg's tears rained\\ndown into her teacup; Pip dug his heel in the hearthrug, and\\nwondered what was the matter with his eyes; and even Bunty'\",\n \"been proclaimed,\\\" said Judy dramatically: \\\"let us\\nshave our heads and don sackcloth.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your father says he cannot allow such conduct to go unpunished,\\nespecially as you have all been unusually tiresome lately;\\ntherefore: you are all--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To be taken away and hanged by the neck until we are dead!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Be quiet, Judy. I have tried my best to beg you off, but it\\nonly makes him more vexed. He says you are the untidiest, most\\nunruly\",\n \"that her father could\\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\\na chickenhearted baby.\\n\\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\\nhe was doing all this to\",\n \"ast seven,\\nbefore it grew dusk.\\n\\n\\\"I am going to ask you for something that day, Meg,\\\" Andrew whispered\\njust as they were parting. \\\"I wonder if I shall get it.\\\"\\n\\nMeg flushed in her nervous, conscious way, and wondered to herself\\nfor a moment whether he intended to ask for a lock of her hair, a\\nthing Graham had already obtained from Aldith.\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" she said unwillingly.\\n\\n\\\"A kiss,\\\" he whispered.\\n\\nThe next minute the others had joined them, and there was no chance\\nfor\",\n \"one caressing little arm round her sister's neck.\\n\\n\\\"I will say Miff MacCarfy iss you will say ze uzzer little pig,\\ntoo.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, send her away, Marguerite, do,\\\" Aldith said impatiently,\\n\\\"I have an enthralling secret to tell you, and I'll have to go soon.\\\"\\n\\nMeg looked interested immediately.\\n\\n\\\"Run away, Baby, dear,\\\" she said, kissing the disappointed little\\nface; \\\"go and play Noah's Ark with Bunty, and I'll finish the\",\n \", dear, we are forgetting; there's Mother, Judy, dear--you\\nwon't be lonely! Can't you remember Mother's eyes, little Judy?\\\"\\n\\nJudy grew quiet, and still more quiet. She shut her eyes so she\\ncould not see the gathering shadows. Meg's arms were round her,\\nMeg's cheek was on her brow, Nell was holding her hands, Baby her\\nfeet, Bunty's lips were on her hair. Like that they went with her\\nright to the Great Valley, where there\"\n ],\n [\n \"Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Next Monday,\\\" he said slowly--\\\"next Monday morning you will\\ngo to boarding school. Est\",\n \"a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true\",\n \"in these nasty\\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess\\na capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.\\nTake care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,\\na grand woman.\\\"\\n\\nThe Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study\\nbefore he could decide how he could best \\\"take care of her.\\\"\\n\\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and\",\n \"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?\\\" he repeated.\\n\\n\\\"No, Father,\\\" she said.\\n\\nHer face had a worn, strained look that might have touched him\\nat another time, but he was too angry to notice.\\n\\n\\\"No excuse or reason at all?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, Father.\\\"\\n\\nHe moved toward the opening. \\\"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\\nwill come straight back with\",\n \"vision of his father crossed his mind.\\n\\n\\\"He won't know, of course,\\\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\\nmanner. \\\"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\\npresently I'll go back to school.\\\" She sank down among the straw\\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\\n\\n\\\"How far is it from your school?\\\" he said at last.\",\n \"obstinately\\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days; and she had\\npretended to everyone, and her father, that she especially thought\\nboarding school must be great fun, and that she should enjoy it\\nimmensely.\\n\\nBut this morning she had collapsed altogether. All the time before,\\nher hot childish heart had been telling her that her father could\\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled\",\n \", one would think I was going to take the child to be hanged,\\nor at least was going to leave her in a penitentiary.\\\"\\n\\nA great dry sob broke from Judy's white lips.\\n\\n\\\"If you'll let me stay, Father, I'll never do another thing to vex\\nyou; and you can thrash me instead, ever so hard.\\\"\\n\\nIt was her last effort, her final hope, and she bit her poor\\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\\n\\n\\\"Let her stay--oh! do\",\n \"\\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\\nsee her. \\\"Is he saving up a lot of beatings for me? And shall I\\nhave to go back the first week?\\\"\\n\\nEsther reassured her.\\n\\n\\\"You won't go back this quarter at all, very likely not next either,\\nJudy dear. He says you shall go away with some of the others for\\na change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\\\"\\n\\nWith this\",\n \"that her father could\\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\\na chickenhearted baby.\\n\\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\\nhe was doing all this to\",\n \"Judy,\\\" he said gently, \\\"but the others are\\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\\\"\\n\\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\\n\\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\\n\\n\\\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\\\" she said with a sob. \\\"They might\\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pip's gone fishing,\\\" he said, \\\"and Nell's carrying the basket\",\n \"'t to go to school,\\\" Judy continued, thinking it rapidly out.\\n\\\"Two of you could go and get some food. Tell Martha you are all\\ngoing for a picnic--she'll be glad enough not to have dinner to\\nset--then you go on. Two others can watch if the coast's clear\\nwhile I get down and across the paddocks, and once we're at the\\ncorner of the road we're safe.\\\"\\n\\nIt seemed feasible enough, and in a very short time the preparations\\nwere all made. Pip was mount\",\n \", a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\\n\\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\\nanswer.\\n\\n\\\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\\\" he continued, in the\\nsame unemotional voice. \\\"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\\\"\\n\\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \\\"Who on earth--what--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \\\"She's in the shed,\\n\",\n \", but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true.\\n\\nJudy sat bolt upright in bed at the sight of Esther's sorrowful\\nface.\\n\\n\\\"It's no good, dear; there's no way out of it,\\\" she said gently.\\n\\\"But you'll go like a brave girl, won't you, Ju-Ju? You always\\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\\\"\\n\\nJudy gulped down\",\n \"But Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining apple\\nand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"Haven't you got any more?\\\" she said anxiously. Then he\\nnoticed what a tall, gaunt, strange-looking Judy it was. Her\\nclothes were hanging round her almost in tatters, her boots were\\nburst and white with dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\\nand her hair matted and rough.\\n\\n\\\"My golly!\\\" the little boy said again,\",\n \"\\n (B)--sure, and don't I lo-o-ove you and delaight to plaize you?\\\"\\n\\nHe went in again slowly, thoughtfully. Judy always mystified\\nhim. He understood her the least of any of his children, and\\nsometimes the thought of her worried him. At present she was only\\na sharp, clever, and frequently impertinent child; but he felt\\nshe was utterly different from the other six, and it gave him\\nan aggrieved kind of feeling when he thought about it, which was\\nnot very often.\",\n \"\\nfather. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he\\nwatched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber\\nof his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said in a loud voice.\\n\\nThe closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness\\ncleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\",\n \"dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\\nand her hair matted and rough.\\n\\n\\\"My golly!\\\" the little boy said again, his eyes threatening\\nto start out of his head--\\\"my golly, Judy, what have you been\\ndoin'?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I--I've run away, Bunty,\\\" Judy said, in a quavering voice.\\n\\\"I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you all\\nso badly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My jiggery!\\\" Bunty said.\\n\\n\\\"I've thought it\",\n \"as hardly compatible with dignity. He remembered hearing\\nrumours of missing furniture in the house, and almost a smile came\\ninto his eyes as he saw the little old table with the spirit-lamp and\\nteapot thereon, the bed-clothing and washing-basin. But a stern\\nlook succeeded it. Were seventy-seven miles not sufficient obstacle\\nto Judy's mischievous plans? How did she dare thus to defy him, a\\nchild of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed\\nominously, and he went down again\",\n \"a pair of crochet\\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\\n\\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance, and turned her face\\nto the wall for the rest of the evening.\\n\\nThat was what had been hanging over her so heavily all this long\\nfortnight in bed--the thought of school in the future.\\n\\n\\\"What's going to happen to me when I get better, Esther?\\\" she\\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\\nsee her. \\\"Is he saving up a lot of beatings\"\n ],\n [\n \"heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\\nhorrible thud.\\n\\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\\ntowards the sound!\\n\\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\\nher arms spread out.\\n\\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\\nlaid\",\n \"and struggled up again.\\nand staggered on.\\n\\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\\nits slow way into her wrist. Only its two back legs were left out\\nfrom under the skin, and for a long time she pulled and pulled without\\nany success. Then it broke in two, and she had to leave one half in\\nfor little Grandma and kerosene to extract on their return.\\n\\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and\",\n \"neck, and kissed it till her lips ached.\\n\\nHe fought manfully against these troublesome proceedings, and at\\nlast objected, with an angry scream, to being suffocated. So she\\nflung back the clothes and got out of bed, leaving him to burrow\\nabout among the pillows, and pull feathers out of a hole in one\\nof them.\\n\\nShe dressed in a quick nervous fashion, did her hair with more\\ncare than usual, and then picked up the General and took him along\\nthe passage into the nursery. All the others were here,\",\n \"the proper, penitent way.\\nAnd then he put his darling arms round her neck and hugged her, and\\nsaid \\\"Ju-Ju\\\" in a choking little voice, and patted her cheeks, and\\ngave her a hundred eager, wide, wet kisses till she was better.\\n\\nThen they played chasings, and the General fell down twenty times,\\nand scratched his little knees and hands, and struggled up again.\\nand staggered on.\\n\\nPresently Judy stood still in a hurry; there was a tick working\\nits slow way\",\n \"\\nTwo or three minutes it had taken her to try to move it, and when\\nshe looked up the General had toddled same distance away, and was\\ntravelling along as fast as ever his little fat legs would carry\\nhim, thinking he was racing her. Just as she, started after him he\\nlooked back, his eyes dancing, his face dimpled and mischievous, and,\\noh! so dirty..\\n\\nAnd then--ah, God!\\n\\nIt is so hard to write it. My pen has had only happy writing\\nto-do so far, and\",\n \"now. We're in for it now, Pip--there'll be no\\nquarter.\\\"\\n\\nPip groaned; then Judy stood up.\\n\\n\\\"Let's creep down as far as the engine,\\\" she said, \\\"and see if he\\ndoes look very bad.\\\"\\n\\nThey made their way cautiously along the deck, and took up a\\nposition where they could see without being seen. The dear\\nlittle General was sitting on the seat next to his stern father,\\nwho had a firm hold of the back of his woolly-pelisse. He was\",\n \"General was sitting on the seat next to his stern father,\\nwho had a firm hold of the back of his woolly-pelisse. He was\\nsucking his little dirty hand, and casting occasional longing\\nglances at his tan shoe, which he knew was delicious to bite.\\nOnce or twice he had pulled it off and conveyed it to his mouth,\\nbut his father intercepted it, and angrily buttoned it on again\\nin its rightful place. He wanted, too, to slither off the horrid\\nseat, and crawl all over the deck\",\n \"while we go? Oh, it would be TOO bad to have to give it up\\njust because of him. It's beginning to rain, too; we couldn't\\ntake him with us.\\\"\\n\\nThey were at the foot of Barrack Hill now, and Pat told them\\nthey must get out and walk the rest of the way up, or he would\\nnever get the dogcart finished to take back that evening.\\n\\nPip tumbled out and took the General, all in a bunched-up heap,\\nand Judy alighted carefully after him, the precious coat par\",\n \"you, you dear old thing,\\\" said Miss Judy,\\ndancing down the room and bestowing a pat on her sister's fair head\\nas she passed. \\\"It's only the General, who's after havin' a bit\\no' fun.\\\"\\n\\nShe lifted him up out of the high chair, where he had been sitting\\ndrumming on the table with a spoon and eating sugar in the\\nintervals.\\n\\n\\\"It's real action you're going for to see, General,\\\" she said,\\ndancing to the door with him.\\n\\n\\\"Oh\",\n \"more\\ncare than usual, and then picked up the General and took him along\\nthe passage into the nursery. All the others were here, and, with\\nEsther, were evidently discussing her. The three girls looked\\ntearful and protesting; Pip had just been brought to book for\\nspeaking disrespectfully of his father, and was looking sullen;\\nand Bunty, not knowing what else to do at such a crisis, had fallen\\nto catching flies, and was viciously taking off their wings.\\n\\nIt was a wretched meal: The bell sounded\",\n \"getting\\nquite nervous about him lately--thinks he'll get broken.\\\"\\n\\nPip grumbled a minute or two, but the General gave a gurgling,\\ncaptivating laugh and held up his arms, so he took him up and\\nheld him while Judy clambered in.\\n\\n\\\"We can come back in the tram to the Quay, and then get a boat\\nback,\\\" she said, squeezing the baby on the seat between them.\\n\\\"The General loves going on the water.\\\"\\n\\nAway they sped; down the neglected carriage drive, out\",\n \"distance away, talking in subdued voices.\\n\\nThere was nothing for them to do. The brown man had been talking--a\\nrare thing for him.\\n\\nHe had soothed the General off to sleep, and laid him in the bunk\\nwith the blue blanket tucked around him. And he had made a billy\\nof hot strong tea, and asked the children, with tears in his eyes,\\nto drink some, but none of them would.\\n\\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\\naround Judy's lace-up boot\",\n \"it's all over jam and things.\\\"\\n\\nJudy shot herself into the hall and returned with her ulster; she\\nset the General on the floor for a minute while she donned it,\\nthen picked him up and handed him up to Pip.\\n\\n\\\"He'll have to come, too,\\\" she said; \\\"I promised Esther I\\nwouldn't let him out of my sight for a minute; she's getting\\nquite nervous about him lately--thinks he'll get broken.\\\"\\n\\nPip grumbled a minute or two, but the General gave\",\n \"s dress, fastening her own with it, and dropping\\na curtsey.\\n\\nEsther reddened a little now.\\n\\n\\\"That's the General, Judy: he always pulls the buttons off my\\nwrappers when I play with him. But I'm forgetting. Children,\\nI have bad news for you.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a breathless silence. Everyone crowded round her knees.\\n\\n\\\"Sentence has been proclaimed,\\\" said Judy dramatically: \\\"let us\\nshave our heads and don sackcloth.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your father says he cannot\",\n \"and then sent his ball spinning\\nover the ground in its direction \\\"to give it a jump.\\\" Nothing was\\nfurther from his thoughts than an idea of hurting the animal, and\\nwhen the ball struck it full on the leg, and it moved away limping,\\nhe hastened down to it, white and anxious.\\n\\nHe could see he had done serious mischief by the way the poor\\nthing held its leg up from the ground and quivered when he touched\\nit. Terror seized him forthwith, and he turned hastily round with\\nhis usual idea of hiding in his\",\n \"levelling of brows, and pursing of lips, always meant deep\\nand intricate calculation on his sister's part, as he knew full\\nwell.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Judy said quietly. \\\"I've got a plan that will do, I think.\\\"\\nThen a sudden fire entered her manner.\\n\\n\\\"Who is the General's father? Tell me that,\\\" she said, in a\\nrapid, eager way; \\\"and isn't it right and proper fathers should\\nlook after their sons? And doesn't he deserve we should get\\neven with him for\",\n \"\\n\\nBut it was a very damp, miserable drive, and the General wept with\\nhardly a break from start to finish, greatly to Esther's vexation,\\nfor it was his first introduction to his grandfather.\\n\\nAt last, when everyone was beginning to feel the very end of patience\\nhad come, a high white gate broke the monotony of dripping wet\\nfences.\\n\\n\\\"Home!\\\" Esther said joyfully. She jumped the General up and down on\\nher knee.\\n\\n\\\"Little Boy Blue, Mum fell off that gate when she was three,\\\"\",\n \"and isn't it right and proper fathers should\\nlook after their sons? And doesn't he deserve we should get\\neven with him for doing us out of the pantomime? And isn't the\\nAquarium too lovely to miss?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" Pip said; his slower brain did not follow such rapid\\nreasoning.\\n\\n\\\"Only I'm going to leave the General here at the Barracks for a\\ncouple of hours till we come back, his father being the proper\\nperson to watch over him.\\\" Judy grasped the General's\",\n \"he'll poke his eyes out, bless him.\\\"\\n\\nThe young stepmother leaned back in her chair and looked round\\nher tragically. She had never seen her husband so thoroughly\\nangered, and her beautiful lips quivered when she remembered how\\nhe had seemed to blame her for it all.\\n\\nMeg hadn't moved; the water was trickling slowly off Baby's\\nclothes and making a pool on the floor, Bunty was still giving\\nvent to spasmodic boos and hoos, Judy was whistling stormily,\\nand the General, mul\",\n \"ry as the others she could not feel,\\nwith this disappointment at her heart, this shaken trust in human\\nnature.\\n\\nHow weak he was, she thought, how ignoble!\\n\\nAll her pity was swept away in a young, large indignation.\\n\\nShe had hardly shaken hands when they had met in the morning,\\nand all the long drive she was persistently cold towards him.\\n\\nAfter lunch the party became scattered. Judy took the General and\\nwent over to the belt of trees; Pip and Bunty occupied themselves\\nwith catching locust\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\nand made to work, so they kept the fact religiously to\\nthemselves.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER II\\n\\nFowl for Dinner\\n\\n\\n \\\"Oh, don't the days seem lank and long\\n When all goes right and nothing wrong;\\n And isn't your life extremely flat\\n With nothing whatever to grumble at?\\\"\\n\\nI hope you are not quite deafened yet, for though I have got\\nthrough the introductions, tea is not nearly finished, so we must\\nstay in the nursery a little longer:\",\n \"\\\"Yes, why shouldn't we?\\\" echoed little greedy Bunty; his eyes\\nlighting up.\\n\\n\\\"What a lot it would take for all of us!\\\" said Meg, cheerfully\\nattacking the bread loaf.\\n\\n\\\"We're only children--let us be thankful for this nice thick bread\\nand this abundance of melting butter,\\\" said Judy, in a good little\\ntone.\\n\\nPip pushed his chair back from the table.\\n\\n\\\"I'm going down to ask for some roast fowl,\\\" he said, with a look\\n\",\n \"LOVE fowl,\\\" said Nell longingly; \\\"I've a great mind to go\\ndown and ask for a wing--I believe he'd give it to me.\\\"\\n\\nThese disrespectful children, as I am afraid you will have noticed,\\nalways alluded to their father as \\\"he.\\\"\\n\\nNell took up another plate, and departed slowly to the lower\\nregions. She followed into the dining-room at the heels of the\\nhousemaid, and stood by the side of her father, her plate well\\nbehind her.\\n\\n\\\"Well, my\",\n \"steady little\\nlegs.\\n\\n\\\"Are the children ALL possessed to-night, Esther?\\\" said the\\nCaptain, as his youngest son clutched wildly at his leg and\\ntried to climb up it.\\n\\nHe looked down into the little dirty, dimpling face. \\\"Well,\\nGeneral, and to what do we owe the honour of your presence?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Chuck-chuck, chuck-a-chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck,\\\" said the\\nGeneral, going down promptly upon all fours to seek for the\\nfeathered darlings\",\n \"I HOPE he hasn't gone\\ntoo; someway I don't think Father was very pleased, especially\\nas that man was there.\\\"\\n\\nBut that small youth had done so, and returned presently\\ncrestfallen.\\n\\n\\\"He wouldn't give me any--he told me to go away, and the man\\nlaughed, and Esther said we were very naughty--I got some\\nfeathered potatoes, though, from the table outside the door.\\\"\\n\\nHe opened his dirty little hands and dropped the uninviting\\nfeathered delicacy out\",\n \"wealthy families it seldom\\nhappens that the parents dine in solemn state alone, while the\\nchildren are having a simple tea in another room: they all\\nassemble around the same board, and the young ones partake of the\\nsame dishes, and sustain their parts in the conversation right\\nnobly.\\n\\nBut, given a very particular and rather irritable father, and\\nseven children with excellent lungs and tireless tongues, what\\ncould you do but give them separate rooms to take their meals in?\\n\\nCaptain Woolcot, the father, in addition to this division\",\n \". \\\"Well?\\\" they\\nsaid in a breath.\\n\\n\\\"You really are the most exasperating children,\\\" she said\\nvexedly.\\n\\n\\\"But the pantomime--quick, Esther--have you asked him?\\\" they\\ncried impatiently.\\n\\n\\\"The pantomime! He says he would rather make it worth Mr.\\nRignold's while to take it off the boards than that one of you\\nshould catch a glimpse of it--and it serves you very well right!\\nMeg, for goodness' sake give Baby some dry clothes--just\",\n \" \\\"Oh, Esther, why couldn't you have had cow,\\nor horse, or hippopotamus--anything but roast fowl?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Couldn't you get round him, Esther?\\\" Meg looked anxiously at\\nher.\\n\\n\\\"Dear Esther, do!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, you sweet, beautiful Essie, do try!\\\"\\n\\nThey clung round her eagerly. Baby flung her arms round her neck\\nand nearly choked her; Nell stroked her cheek; Pip patted her\\nback, and bes\",\n \"ening babel of voices and an unmusical clitter-clatter of\\ncrockery I will take you inside the room and introduce them to\\nyou.\\n\\nNursery tea is more an English institution than an Australian one;\\nthere is a kind of _bon camaraderie_ feeling between parents and\\nyoung folks here, and an utter absence of veneration on the part of\\nthe latter. So even in the most wealthy families it seldom\\nhappens that the parents dine in solemn state alone, while the\\nchildren are having a simple tea in another\",\n \"wing, or bit of breast would do.\\\"\\n\\nThe Captain's brow darkened. \\\"What is the meaning of this? Pip\\nhas just been to me, too. Have you nothing to eat in the\\nnursery?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Only bread and butter, very thick,\\\" sighed Nellie.\\n\\nEsther suppressed a smile with difficulty.\\n\\n\\\"But you had dinner, all of you, at one o'clock.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Boiled mutton and carrots and rice pudding,\\\" said Nell mournfully.\\n\\nCaptain W\",\n \", though, from the table outside the door.\\\"\\n\\nHe opened his dirty little hands and dropped the uninviting\\nfeathered delicacy out upon the cloth.\\n\\n\\\"Bunty, you're a pig,\\\" sighed Meg, looking up from her book.\\nShe always read at the table, and this particular story was\\nabout some very refined, elegant girls.\\n\\n\\\"Pig yourself--all of you've had fowl but me, you greedy things!\\\"\\nretorted Bunty fiercely, and eating up his potato very fast.\\n\\n\\\"No,\",\n \"after that a\\nchair from the nursery, and a strip of carpet from the top landing,\\nnot to mention such small things as a teapot, a spirit-lamp, cups and\\nplates, half a horn, and a whole baking of gingerbread nuts.\\n\\nThe losses preyed upon Martha, for the things seemed to disappear\\nwhile the children were in bed; and though she suspected them, and\\nwatched them continually, she could get no clear proof of their\\nguilt, nor even find any motive for them abstracting such things.\\n\\nAnd after the disappearance\",\n \"t fair!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But we had dinner at one o'clock, Pip, and yours is saved as\\nusual,\\\" said Meg, pouring out tea with a lavish allowance of hot\\nwater and sugar.\\n\\n\\\"Boiled mutton and carrots and rice pudding!\\\" returned her brother\\nwitheringly. \\\"Why shouldn't we have roast fowl and custard and\\nthings?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, why shouldn't we?\\\" echoed little greedy Bunty; his eyes\\nlighting up.\\n\\n\\\"What a lot it would\",\n \"But Judy's hunger! Nothing to eat since yesterday morning!\\n\\nHe remembered, with a feeling of pain even now, the horrible\\nsinking sensation he had experienced last week when for punishment\\nhe had been sent to bed without his tea. And Judy had forgone\\nthree meals! He shut his lips tightly, and a light of almost\\nheroic resolve came into his eyes. Round at the side of the house\\nwas the window to the pantry; he had often gazed longingly up at it,\\nbut had never ventured to attempt the ascent, for there was\",\n \"\\n\\\"Oh, shut up, and hang your grandmother!\\\" said Pip, brushing past\\nher, and going a circuitous voyage to the shed lest she should be\\nwatching.\\n\\nHe knelt down beside his little sister and fed her with morsels of\\nchicken and sips of wine, and stroked her wild hair, and called\\nher old girl fifty times, and besought her to eat just a little more\\nand a little more.\\n\\nAnd Judy, catching the look in the brown, wet eyes above her, ate all\\nhe offered, though the first mouthful\",\n \"large portion on his plate.\\n\\n\\\"He couldn't very well refuse,\\\" he chuckled. \\\"Colonel Bryant\\nis there; but he looked a bit mad--here, Fizz, I'll go you halves.\\\"\\n\\nJudy pushed up her plate eagerly at this unusually magnanimous\\noffer, and received a very small division, a fifth part, perhaps,\\nwith great gratitude.\\n\\n\\\"I just LOVE fowl,\\\" said Nell longingly; \\\"I've a great mind to go\\ndown and ask for a wing--I believe he\",\n \"to denote the number in her father's possession. \\\"Boydie,\\ngo get them!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Chuck-chuck,\\\" crowed the General delightedly, and struggling\\nto his feet--\\\"find chuck-chuck.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In there,\\\" whispered Judy, giving him a gentle push into the\\nhalf-open dining-room door; \\\"ask Dad.\\\"\\n\\nRight across the room the baby tottered on fat, unsteady little\\nlegs.\\n\\n\\\"Are the children ALL possessed to-night, Esther?\\\" said the\\nCaptain, as his youngest son\",\n \"holding out\\nher left hand, since her right was occupied with the plate.\\n\\n\\\"What a little barbarian you are, Nell!\\\" laughed her father; but\\nhe gave her a quick, annoyed glance. \\\"Where is your right hand?\\\"\\n\\nShe drew it slowly from behind and held out the cracked old plate.\\n\\\"I thought perhaps you would give me some fowl too,\\\" she said--\\\"just\\na leg or a wing, or bit of breast would do.\\\"\\n\\nThe Captain's brow darkened. \\\"What is the meaning of this? Pip\\n\",\n \"been proclaimed,\\\" said Judy dramatically: \\\"let us\\nshave our heads and don sackcloth.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your father says he cannot allow such conduct to go unpunished,\\nespecially as you have all been unusually tiresome lately;\\ntherefore: you are all--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To be taken away and hanged by the neck until we are dead!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Be quiet, Judy. I have tried my best to beg you off, but it\\nonly makes him more vexed. He says you are the untidiest, most\\nunruly\",\n \", dear,\\\" she said, kissing the disappointed little\\nface; \\\"go and play Noah's Ark with Bunty, and I'll finish the\\npiggies to-night or to-morrow.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But I want them NOW,\\\" Baby said insistently.\\n\\nMeg pushed her gently aside. \\\"No, run away, pet--run away at once\\nlike a good girl, and I'll tell you Red Riding Hood, too, to-morrow.\\\"\\n\\nBaby looked up at her sister's guest.\\n\\n\\\"You are a horrid\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\\"I?\\\" he said, and looked astonished. \\\"Indeed, no. What makes you\\nthink so, Miss Judy?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can hear it distinctly,\\\" she said. \\\"Your eyes are saying it,\\nand your left ear, not to mention the ends of your moustache.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Judy!\\\" reproved Meg, whom something had made strangely quiet.\\n\\nHe pretended to be alarmed--shut his eyes, held his left ear,\\ncovered his moustache.\\n\\n\\\"What can they be saying?\\\" he said.\",\n \"For the very next day, if occasion sufficiently strong offered,\\nhe would fall again, and the very next night would creep up to\\nsomebody and whimper, with his knuckles in his eyes, that he had\\n\\\"t--t--told a s--s--story, boo--hoo!\\\"\\n\\nBy seven o'clock this particular evening he was miserably\\nrepentant; several tears had trickled down, his cheeks and mingled\\nwith the ink of the map he was engaged upon for Miss Marsh. He\\nestablished himself at Meg's elbow,\",\n \"mingled\\nwith the ink of the map he was engaged upon for Miss Marsh. He\\nestablished himself at Meg's elbow, and kept looking up into her\\nface in a yearning love-and-forgive-me kind of way that she found\\ninfinitely embarrassing; for she had begun to suspect, from his\\nstrange conduct, that he had in some way learned the contents\\nof her note, and was trying to discourage her from her enterprise.\\nThe more he gazed at her the redder and more uncomfortable she\\nbecame.\\n\\n\\\"You can\",\n \". And Judy, with a wrathful look in\\nher eyes, was sitting on the nursery table, her knees touching her\\nchin and her thin brown hands clasped round them.\\n\\n\\\"It's a shame,\\\" she said, \\\"it's a burning, wicked shame!\\nWhat's the use of fathers in the world, I'd like to know!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, Judy!\\\" said Meg, who was curled up in an armchair, deep in\\na book. But she said it mechanically, and only as a matter of\\n\",\n \"precluded such an idea,\\nand, besides that, the General's gums were gradually disclosing\\nwee white double pearls, and his health thereby was affected,\\nand causing her too much anxiety to allow her, to notice Meg's\\noppression of mind.\\n\\nBy the night decided upon, the child had worked herself up into a\\nstrong state of excitement. Half-past six was the time settled\\nupon, and, as she knew, it was broad daylight even then. She\\nfelt she really dare not, could not go. Suppose her father\",\n \"wonder in her round eyes.\\n\\\"I've been hunting and hunting for you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What for?\\\" said Meg shortly.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, Dr. Gormeston and Mrs. Gormeston and two Miss Gormestons are in\\nthe drawing-room, and I think they'll stay for ever and ever.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" said Meg.\\n\\n\\\"And the General is ill again, and Esther says she won't leave him\\nfor a second, not if Gog and Magog were down there dying to see\\nher.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" said Meg again\",\n \"bye, little Miss Meg.\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER IX\\n\\nConsequences\\n\\n\\n \\\"However could you do it?\\n Some day, no doubt, you'll rue it!\\\"\\n\\n\\nMeg's troubles were not quite over, however, even yet. When she\\ngot into the house Nellie met her in the hall and stared at her.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she said, a slow wonder in her round eyes.\\n\\\"I've been hunting and hunting for you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What for?\\\" said Meg shortly.\\n\\n\\\"Oh\",\n \"t leave him\\nfor a second, not if Gog and Magog were down there dying to see\\nher.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" said Meg again.\\n\\n\\\"And Father is as mad as he can be, and is having to keep them\\nall amused himself. He's sung 'My sweetheart when a boy' and\\n'Mona,' and he's told them all about his horses, and now I s'pose\\nhe doesn't know what to do.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, I can't help it,\\\" Meg said wearily, and as if the subject\\nhad\",\n \", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\\\"\\n\\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \\\"Who on earth--what--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \\\"She's in the shed,\\n\",\n \"and encouraged him, and helped him to fight the world again,\\nand gave him never a hard word or look, thinking he had had plenty.\\nWhich sister's influence would be greater, Miss Meg?\\\"\\n\\nMeg's little soft mouth, was quivering, her eyes were on the ground,\\nbecause the tears would have splashed out if she had lifted them.\\n\\n\\\"Oh-h-h!\\\" she said again. \\\"Oh, how very horrid I have been--oh-h-h!\\\"\\n\\nShe covered her face with her hands, for one of her quickly gathered\\n\",\n \"thinking of the pity of it. I imagined\\nhow I should feel if my little sister Flossie ever fell in with\\nsuch a girl, and began to flirt and make herself conspicuous,\\nand I wondered would you mind if I spoke to you about it.\\nAre you very angry with me, Miss Meg?\\\"\\n\\nBut Meg leaned her head against the rough fence and began to\\nsob--little, dry, heartbroken sobs that went to the boy's warm\\nheart.\\n\\n\\\"I oughtn't to have spoken as I did at first--I was\",\n \"s steed had not a canter in it, it fell out that\\nhe kept beside the slow and timid rider all the time.\\n\\n\\\"You remind me of a little sister I had who died,\\\" he said slowly to\\nMeg once, after a long talk. \\\"Perhaps if she were alive now I should\\nnot be quite so contemptible.\\\"\\n\\nMeg's face flushed scarlet, and a shamed look had come into her eyes.\\nIt seemed altogether terrible to her that he should know she knew of\\nhis failing.\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps it makes her\",\n \"I'll get taken off,\\\" Miss Aldith would say as they started; and\\nby the end of the time Meg would say longingly, \\\"How lovely it must\\nbe to know crowds of gentlemen like you do.\\\"\\n\\nSometimes one or two of them would stop and exchange a word or two,\\nand then Aldith would formally introduce Meg; often, however, the\\nlatter, who was sharp enough for all her foolishness, would fancy\\nshe detected a patronizing, amused air in these gentlemen's\\nmanners. As, indeed, there often was; they were chief\",\n \"doesn't know what to do.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, I can't help it,\\\" Meg said wearily, and as if the subject\\nhad no interest for her.\\n\\n\\\"But you'll just have to!\\\" Nell cried sharply, \\\"I've done my\\nbest: he sent out and said we were to go in, and you weren't\\nanywhere, so there was only Baby and me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And what did you do?\\\" Meg asked, curious in spite of herself.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, Baby talked to Miss Gormeston, and they asked me to play,\\\"\",\n \"he said quietly; \\\"what\\nhave you let that horrid MacCarthy girl spoil you for? For she is\\nhorrid, though you may not think so.\\\"\\n\\nMeg did not speak or move, and he went on with a gentle earnestness\\nthat she had not thought him capable of..\\n\\n\\\"I have watched her on the boat, systematically going to work to\\nspoil you, and can't help thinking of the pity of it. I imagined\\nhow I should feel if my little sister Flossie ever fell in with\\nsuch a girl, and\",\n \"ivered, and sat up straight. Judy's brow, grew damp, her eyes\\ndilated, her lips trembled.\\n\\n\\\"Meg!\\\" she said, in a whisper that cut the air. \\\"Oh, Meg, I'm\\nfrightened! MEG, I'm so frightened!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"God!\\\" said Meg's heart.\\n\\n\\\"Meg, say something. Meg, help me! Look at the dark, Meg. MEG,\\nI can't die! Oh, why don't they be quick?\\\"\\n\",\n \"and laughed her\\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\\nabsence.\\n\\nAldith only lived about twenty minutes' walk from Misrule, so\\nthe two girls were always together. Twice a week they went down\\nto town in the river-boat to learn how to inquire, in polite\\nFrench, \\\"Has the baker's young daughter the yellow hat, brown\\ngloves, and umbrella of the undertaker's niece?\\\" And twice a\\nweek, after they had\",\n \"not think so? Still, perhaps we\\ncan find a darker place farther on, and then I can kiss you without\\ndanger. What is the matter?--are you always as quiet as this with\\nAndrew?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, DON'T!\\\" said Meg, in a choking voice.\\n\\nThe mocking tone died instantly out of his voice, \\\"Miss Meg, you\\nused to seem such a nice little girl,\\\" he said quietly; \\\"what\\nhave you let that horrid MacCarthy girl spoil you for? For she is\\nhorrid, though\",\n \"had been sixteen, and a \\\"waist\\\" had\\nbeen the most desirable thing on earth.\\n\\nOnce she had said unwittingly,\\n\\n\\\"What a nice little figure you are getting, Meg; this new\\ndressmaker certainly fits better than Miss Quinn\\\"; and foolish\\nMeg, with a throb of delight, had redoubled her efforts.\\n\\nLynx-eyed Judy would have found her out long ago, and laughed her\\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\\nabs\",\n \"with the\\nquick moisture in them, made up for the clumsy stumbling words of\\nsympathy he tried to speak.\\n\\n\\\"Let us be friends always, Miss Meg,\\\" he said, as they parted at\\nthe Misrule gate.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, let us,\\\" said Meg.\\n\\nAnd the firm, frank friendship became a beautiful thing in both their\\nlives, strengthening Meg and making the boy gentler.\\n\\nPip became his laughing, high-spirited self again, as even the most\\nloving boy will, thanks to the merciful making of young hearts;\"\n ],\n [\n \"dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\\nand her hair matted and rough.\\n\\n\\\"My golly!\\\" the little boy said again, his eyes threatening\\nto start out of his head--\\\"my golly, Judy, what have you been\\ndoin'?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I--I've run away, Bunty,\\\" Judy said, in a quavering voice.\\n\\\"I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you all\\nso badly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My jiggery!\\\" Bunty said.\\n\\n\\\"I've thought it\",\n \"Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Next Monday,\\\" he said slowly--\\\"next Monday morning you will\\ngo to boarding school. Est\",\n \", a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\\n\\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\\nanswer.\\n\\n\\\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\\\" he continued, in the\\nsame unemotional voice. \\\"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"vision of his father crossed his mind.\\n\\n\\\"He won't know, of course,\\\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\\nmanner. \\\"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\\npresently I'll go back to school.\\\" She sank down among the straw\\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\\n\\n\\\"How far is it from your school?\\\" he said at last.\",\n \", but I think she's gone mad; and I've had the\\nawfullest beating, and got nearly killed with the cactus for her, and\\nnever told anything. She can't eat the corned beef, either, after all.\\nShe's run away--and oh, I'm sure she's mad!\\\"\\n\\nMeg lifted a pale, startled face from the pillows. \\\"Who on earth--what--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said, and burst into excited sobs. \\\"She's in the shed,\\n\",\n \"'t to go to school,\\\" Judy continued, thinking it rapidly out.\\n\\\"Two of you could go and get some food. Tell Martha you are all\\ngoing for a picnic--she'll be glad enough not to have dinner to\\nset--then you go on. Two others can watch if the coast's clear\\nwhile I get down and across the paddocks, and once we're at the\\ncorner of the road we're safe.\\\"\\n\\nIt seemed feasible enough, and in a very short time the preparations\\nwere all made. Pip was mount\",\n \"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?\\\" he repeated.\\n\\n\\\"No, Father,\\\" she said.\\n\\nHer face had a worn, strained look that might have touched him\\nat another time, but he was too angry to notice.\\n\\n\\\"No excuse or reason at all?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, Father.\\\"\\n\\nHe moved toward the opening. \\\"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\\nwill come straight back with\",\n \"a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true\",\n \"Judy,\\\" he said gently, \\\"but the others are\\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\\\"\\n\\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\\n\\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\\n\\n\\\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\\\" she said with a sob. \\\"They might\\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pip's gone fishing,\\\" he said, \\\"and Nell's carrying the basket\",\n \"a minute or two, and\\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\\n\\n\\\"How far is it from your school?\\\" he said at last.\\n\\n\\\"Seventy-seven miles.\\\" Judy shuddered a little. \\\"I got a lift\\nin a luggage train from Lawson to Springwood, and a ride in a cart\\nfor a little way, but I walked the rest. I've been nearly a week\\ncoming,\\\" she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite\\na long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-\",\n \"actual\\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\\ndespair. \\\"Judy's home!\\\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\\n\\\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\\n\",\n \"her head again. \\\"Do take them away,\\\" she said, with a\\nlittle moan.\\n\\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his small, heated face.\\n\\n\\\"An' I've half killed myself to get them! Well, you ARE a mean girl!\\\"\\nhe said.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, DO go away,\\\": Judy moaned, moving her head restlessly from\\nside to side. \\\"Oh, how my feet ache! no--my head, and my side--oh!\\nI don't know what it is!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I got\",\n \"\\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\\nsee her. \\\"Is he saving up a lot of beatings for me? And shall I\\nhave to go back the first week?\\\"\\n\\nEsther reassured her.\\n\\n\\\"You won't go back this quarter at all, very likely not next either,\\nJudy dear. He says you shall go away with some of the others for\\na change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\\\"\\n\\nWith this\",\n \"But Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining apple\\nand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"Haven't you got any more?\\\" she said anxiously. Then he\\nnoticed what a tall, gaunt, strange-looking Judy it was. Her\\nclothes were hanging round her almost in tatters, her boots were\\nburst and white with dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,\\nand her hair matted and rough.\\n\\n\\\"My golly!\\\" the little boy said again,\",\n \"in these nasty\\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess\\na capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.\\nTake care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,\\na grand woman.\\\"\\n\\nThe Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study\\nbefore he could decide how he could best \\\"take care of her.\\\"\\n\\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and\",\n \"and my head is\\ngoing to Catherine wheels for want of it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Have some corned beef, Judy, dear--oh, Judy, don't be so silly and\\nhorrid after I nearly got killed for you,\\\" Bunty said, trying with\\ntrembling fingers to stuff a piece into her mouth.\\n\\nThe little girl rolled over and began muttering again.\\n\\n\\\"Seventy-seven miles,\\\" she said, \\\"and I walked eleven yesterday,\\nthat makes eleven hundred and seventy-seven--and six the day before\\nbecause my foot had a blister--\",\n \"week.\\\"\\n\\nPip didn't think it could be done; Meg besought her to run no risks;\\nbut Bunty and Nell were eager for it.\\n\\n\\\"Meg could talk to Father,\\\" Bunty said, \\\"and Pip could keep\\nteasing General till Esther would be frightened to leave the room,\\nand then me and Judy would nick down and have a run, and get back\\nbefore you let them go.\\\"\\n\\nJudy shook her head.\\n\\n\\\"That would be awfully stale,\\\" she said. \\\"If I go, I shall stay\",\n \"a pair of crochet\\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\\n\\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance, and turned her face\\nto the wall for the rest of the evening.\\n\\nThat was what had been hanging over her so heavily all this long\\nfortnight in bed--the thought of school in the future.\\n\\n\\\"What's going to happen to me when I get better, Esther?\\\" she\\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\\nsee her. \\\"Is he saving up a lot of beatings\",\n \"week,\\\" she said, in a troubled\\nvoice. \\\"You've got a horrid cough with sleeping outside, and I'm\\nsure you're ill. We shall have to tell Father about it. I'll beg him\\nnot to send you back, though.\\\"\\n\\nJudy started up, her eyes aflame.\\n\\n\\\"If you do,\\\" she said--\\\"if you do, I will run away this very night,\\nand walk to Melbourne, or Jerusalem, and never see any of you again!\\nHow can you, Meg! After I've\",\n \"\\n\\nJudy shook her head.\\n\\n\\\"That would be awfully stale,\\\" she said. \\\"If I go, I shall stay\\ndown some time. Why shouldn't we have a picnic down at the river?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, yes, let's!\\\" Bunty cried, with sparkling eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I'm sure we could manage it especially as it's Saturday, and Pip\\nhasn't to go to school,\\\" Judy continued, thinking it rapidly out.\\n\\\"Two of you could go and get some food. Tell Martha you\"\n ],\n [\n \"yet,\\nand everyone felt in an uncomfortable state of suspense.\\n\\n\\\"Your father says you're a disgraceful tribe,\\\" said the young\\nstepmother slowly, sitting down on the nursery rocking-chair\\na day later. She had on a trailing morning wrapper of white\\nmuslin with cherry ribbons, but there was a pin doing duty\\nfor a button in one or two places and the lace was hanging\\noff a bit at the sleeve.\\n\\n\\\"Meg, dear, you're very untidy, you know, and Judy's absolutely\",\n \"y: that young person was too downright, too sensible, too much\\nof a child and a boy--she would never dare to tell her anything of\\nthe sort. She could fancy the scorn in her sister's large clear\\neyes, the ringing laughter such a tale would evoke, the scathing,\\nclever ridicule that would fall on her shrinking shoulders. Not\\nEsther: her very position as stepmother precluded such an idea,\\nand, besides that, the General's gums were gradually disclosing\\nwee white double pearls, and\",\n \"you\\nshould catch a glimpse of it--and it serves you very well right!\\nMeg, for goodness' sake give Baby some dry clothes--just look\\nat her; and, Judy, if you have any feeling for me, take off\\nthat frock. Bunty, you wicked boy, I'll call your father if\\nyou don't stop that noise. Nell, take the scissors from the\\nGeneral, he'll poke his eyes out, bless him.\\\"\\n\\nThe young stepmother leaned back in her chair and looked round\\nher tragically. \",\n \"regarding her almost\\ngloomily from the sofa, where the little figure lay in its\\ncrumpled muslin dress, and her heart told her these children\\nwere not receiving a mother's care at her hands.\\n\\nAfterwards, when Meg was safely in bed and the excitement\\nall over, she went up to her husband almost timidly.\\n\\n\\\"I'm only twenty; Jack; don't be too hard on me!\\\" she said\\nwith a little sob in her voice. \\\"I can't be all to them that\\nshe was, can I?\\\"\\n\\nHe\",\n \"as hardly compatible with dignity. He remembered hearing\\nrumours of missing furniture in the house, and almost a smile came\\ninto his eyes as he saw the little old table with the spirit-lamp and\\nteapot thereon, the bed-clothing and washing-basin. But a stern\\nlook succeeded it. Were seventy-seven miles not sufficient obstacle\\nto Judy's mischievous plans? How did she dare thus to defy him, a\\nchild of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed\\nominously, and he went down again\",\n \"boy any longer, for she\\ncouldn't, so there.\\n\\nThe Captain took an angry step into the pantry and gave a roar of\\ncommand for Bunty to come down.\\n\\nThe boy dropped in an agony of dread and shrinking.\\n\\n\\\"Always his hands a-pickin' and stealin' and his tongue a-lyin',\\\"\\nsaid Martha Tomlinson, gazing unkindly at the unhappy child.\\n\\nTwo, three, four, five angry cuts from the riding-whip in the\\nCaptain's hands, and Bun\",\n \"dare thus to defy him, a\\nchild of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed\\nominously, and he went down again and strode heavily back to the\\nhouse.\\n\\n\\\"Esther!\\\" he called, in a vibrating voice at the foot of the\\nstairs.\\n\\nAnd \\\"Coming, dear--half a minute,\\\" floated down in response.\\n\\nHalf a minute passed ten times, and then she came, the beautiful young\\nmother with her laughing-faced wee son in her arms. Her eyes looked\\nso tender; and soft, and loving\",\n \"saying to herself: there would be no danger\\nof being seen then; she could slip out of the house without any\\ndifficulty, and run through the paddocks under cover of the\\nkindly dusk; whereas if it was light, and she tried to creep away,\\nat least two or three of the children would fly after her and\\noffer generously to \\\"come too.\\\"\\n\\nAt last, too afraid to go in the light, and unwilling for Aldith\\nto reproach her for not going at all, she did in her excitement\\nand desperation a thing so questionable\",\n \"\\nfather. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he\\nwatched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber\\nof his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said in a loud voice.\\n\\nThe closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness\\ncleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\",\n \"the stones and briars in the\\nway of that particular pair of small, eager feet.\\n\\nAnd she had died, and Judy was stumbling right amongst them now,\\nand her father could not \\\"be careful\\\" of her because he\\nabsolutely did not know how.\\n\\nAs he went up the veranda steps again and through the hall, he was\\nwishing almost prayerfully she had not been cast in so different a\\nmould from the others, wishing he could stamp out that strange\\nflame in her that made him so uneasy at times. He gave a great\\n\",\n \" Meg, the eldest, was only sixteen, and could not be\\nexpected to be much of a disciplinarian, and the slatternly but\\ngood-natured girl, who was supposed to combine the duties of\\nnursery-maid and housemaid, had so much to do in her second\\ncapacity that the first suffered considerably. She used to lay\\nthe nursery meals when none of the little girls could be found to\\nhelp her, and bundle on the clothes of the two youngest in the\\nmorning, but beyond that the seven had to manage for themselves\",\n \"\\\"Oh, Jack!\\\" Esther said reproachfully.\\n\\n\\\"Oblige me by not interfering,\\\" he said; \\\"allow me a little\\nliberty with my own children, Esther. He is an untruthful little\\nvagabond; I am ashamed to own him for my son.\\\"\\n\\nAnd Esther, reflecting on the many shiftinesses of her stepson, was\\nable to console herself with the hope that it would do him good.\\n\\nThey went a shortcut through the bush to avoid the public road, and\\nthe blue,\",\n \"s steed had not a canter in it, it fell out that\\nhe kept beside the slow and timid rider all the time.\\n\\n\\\"You remind me of a little sister I had who died,\\\" he said slowly to\\nMeg once, after a long talk. \\\"Perhaps if she were alive now I should\\nnot be quite so contemptible.\\\"\\n\\nMeg's face flushed scarlet, and a shamed look had come into her eyes.\\nIt seemed altogether terrible to her that he should know she knew of\\nhis failing.\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps it makes her\",\n \"be found to\\nhelp her, and bundle on the clothes of the two youngest in the\\nmorning, but beyond that the seven had to manage for themselves.\\n\\nThe mother? you ask.\\n\\nOh, she was only twenty--just a lovely, laughing-faced girl, whom\\nthey all adored, and who was very little steadier and very\\nlittle more of a housekeeper than Meg. Only the youngest of the\\nbrood was hers, but she seemed just as fond of the other six as\\nof it, and treated it more as if it were a very entertaining\\nkitten than\",\n \"that her father could\\nnot really be so cruel, that he did not really mean to send her\\naway among strangers, away from dear, muddled old Misrule and all\\nher sisters and brothers; he was only saying it to frighten her,\\nshe kept saying to herself, and she would show him she was not\\na chickenhearted baby.\\n\\nBut on Sunday night, when she saw a trunk carried downstairs\\nand filled with her things and labelled with her name, a cold\\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\\nhe was doing all this to\",\n \"he'll poke his eyes out, bless him.\\\"\\n\\nThe young stepmother leaned back in her chair and looked round\\nher tragically. She had never seen her husband so thoroughly\\nangered, and her beautiful lips quivered when she remembered how\\nhe had seemed to blame her for it all.\\n\\nMeg hadn't moved; the water was trickling slowly off Baby's\\nclothes and making a pool on the floor, Bunty was still giving\\nvent to spasmodic boos and hoos, Judy was whistling stormily,\\nand the General, mul\",\n \"\\nwith the broomstick.\\\"\\n\\nThey watched the train of her yellow' silk dress disappear into\\nthe dining-room again, and returned slowly to the nursery and\\ntheir interrupted tea.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER III\\n\\nVirtue Not Always Rewarded\\n\\n\\nIt was not to be expected that such an occurrence could be passed\\nentirely over, but then again it is difficult to punish seven\\nchildren at the same time. At first Captain Woolcot had requested\\nEsther to ask Miss Marsh, the governess, to give them all\",\n \"him for his pains.\\n\\nEsther would do her best, beg as she had never done before, coax,\\nbeseech, wheedle, threaten; and they let her go at last with that\\nassurance.\\n\\n\\\"Only I'd advise you all to be preternaturally good and quiet\\nall day,\\\" she said, looking back from the doorway. \\\"That would\\nhave most effect with him, and he is going to be at home all day.\\\"\\n\\nGOOD! It was absolutely painful to witness the virtue of those\\nchildren for the rest of the\",\n \"\\n (B)--sure, and don't I lo-o-ove you and delaight to plaize you?\\\"\\n\\nHe went in again slowly, thoughtfully. Judy always mystified\\nhim. He understood her the least of any of his children, and\\nsometimes the thought of her worried him. At present she was only\\na sharp, clever, and frequently impertinent child; but he felt\\nshe was utterly different from the other six, and it gave him\\nan aggrieved kind of feeling when he thought about it, which was\\nnot very often.\",\n \"over her mouth and held her by the hair while Esther told the\\nnews.\\n\\n\\\"None of you are to go to the pantomime. The seats were taken for\\nThursday night, and now, you very foolish children, you will all\\nhave to stay at home.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a perfect howl of dismay for a minute or two. They had\\nall been looking forward to this treat for nearly a month, and the\\ndisappointment was a really bitter one to them all.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I say, Esther, that's too bad, really!\"\n ],\n [\n \"vision of his father crossed his mind.\\n\\n\\\"He won't know, of course,\\\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\\nmanner. \\\"I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and\\nyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then\\npresently I'll go back to school.\\\" She sank down among the straw\\nand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and\\nBunty watched her half fascinated.\\n\\n\\\"How far is it from your school?\\\" he said at last.\",\n \"Then Pip received a thrashing, in spite of Judy's persistent avowal\\nthat it was all her fault, and Pip hadn't done anything. She\\nremembered wondering whether she would be treated as summarily as\\nPip, so angry was her father's face as he pushed the boy aside\\nand stood looking at her, riding whip in hand. But he flung\\nit, down and laid a heavy hand on her shrinking shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Next Monday,\\\" he said slowly--\\\"next Monday morning you will\\ngo to boarding school. Est\",\n \"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?\\\" he repeated.\\n\\n\\\"No, Father,\\\" she said.\\n\\nHer face had a worn, strained look that might have touched him\\nat another time, but he was too angry to notice.\\n\\n\\\"No excuse or reason at all?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, Father.\\\"\\n\\nHe moved toward the opening. \\\"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\\nwill come straight back with\",\n \"\\nfather. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he\\nwatched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber\\nof his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said in a loud voice.\\n\\nThe closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness\\ncleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\",\n \", one would think I was going to take the child to be hanged,\\nor at least was going to leave her in a penitentiary.\\\"\\n\\nA great dry sob broke from Judy's white lips.\\n\\n\\\"If you'll let me stay, Father, I'll never do another thing to vex\\nyou; and you can thrash me instead, ever so hard.\\\"\\n\\nIt was her last effort, her final hope, and she bit her poor\\nquivering lip till it bled while she waited for his answer.\\n\\n\\\"Let her stay--oh! do\",\n \"\\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\\nsee her. \\\"Is he saving up a lot of beatings for me? And shall I\\nhave to go back the first week?\\\"\\n\\nEsther reassured her.\\n\\n\\\"You won't go back this quarter at all, very likely not next either,\\nJudy dear. He says you shall go away with some of the others for\\na change till you get strong; and, between you and me, I think\\nits very unlikely you, will go back ever again.\\\"\\n\\nWith this\",\n \"\\\"No, Father.\\\"\\n\\nHe moved toward the opening. \\\"A train goes in an hour and a half, you\\nwill come straight back with me this moment,\\\" he said, in an even\\nvoice. \\\"I shall take precautions to have you watched at school since\\nyou cannot be trusted. You will not return home for the Christmas\\nholidays, and probably not for those of the following June.\\\"\\n\\nIt was as bad as a sentence of death. The room swam before the girl's\\neyes, there was a singing and rushing in her ears.\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \", a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\\n\\nThe scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then\\ndropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no\\nanswer.\\n\\n\\\"You have run away from school, I suppose?\\\" he continued, in the\\nsame unemotional voice. \\\"Have you anything to say?\\\"\\n\\nJudy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted\\nlips.\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"father, and which was\\nstill unconfessed, because the horse was seriously lame, and his\\ncourage oozed away every time he thought of that riding-whip.\\n\\nPerhaps it was the reaction after the great excitement. Or it may\\nhave been a rankling sense of injustice at the small glory his brave\\ndeeds on Judy's behalf evoked from the others. They did not seem to\\nattach any importance to them, and, indeed, laughed every time he\\nalluded to them or drew public attention to his scars. Two or\",\n \". I wanted to see you all\\nso badly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My jiggery!\\\" Bunty said.\\n\\n\\\"I've thought it all out,\\\" Judy continued, pushing back her hair\\nin a weary moray. \\\"I can't quite remember everything just now,\\nI am so tired, but everything will be all right.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But what'll he say?\\\" Bunty said with frightened eyes, as a\\nvision of his father crossed his mind.\\n\\n\\\"He won't know, of course,\\\" Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact\\n\",\n \"a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true\",\n \"and isn't it right and proper fathers should\\nlook after their sons? And doesn't he deserve we should get\\neven with him for doing us out of the pantomime? And isn't the\\nAquarium too lovely to miss?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" Pip said; his slower brain did not follow such rapid\\nreasoning.\\n\\n\\\"Only I'm going to leave the General here at the Barracks for a\\ncouple of hours till we come back, his father being the proper\\nperson to watch over him.\\\" Judy grasped the General's\",\n \"a warm, soft bed, and delicate food, and loving voices\\nand ceaseless attention. For the violent exertion, the scanty food,\\nand the two nights in the open air had brought the girl to indeed a\\nperilous pass. One lung was badly inflamed, the doctor said; it was\\na mystery to him, he kept telling them, how she had kept up so long;\\nan ordinary girl would have given in and taken to her bed long ago.\\nBut then he was not acquainted with the indomitable spirit and pluck\\nthat were Judy'\",\n \"Judy,\\\" he said gently, \\\"but the others are\\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\\\"\\n\\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\\n\\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\\n\\n\\\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\\\" she said with a sob. \\\"They might\\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pip's gone fishing,\\\" he said, \\\"and Nell's carrying the basket\",\n \"as hardly compatible with dignity. He remembered hearing\\nrumours of missing furniture in the house, and almost a smile came\\ninto his eyes as he saw the little old table with the spirit-lamp and\\nteapot thereon, the bed-clothing and washing-basin. But a stern\\nlook succeeded it. Were seventy-seven miles not sufficient obstacle\\nto Judy's mischievous plans? How did she dare thus to defy him, a\\nchild of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed\\nominously, and he went down again\",\n \"in these nasty\\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess\\na capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.\\nTake care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,\\na grand woman.\\\"\\n\\nThe Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study\\nbefore he could decide how he could best \\\"take care of her.\\\"\\n\\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and\",\n \"no irreparable harm done, is\\nthere? Yes, your father has gone away in a cab. He couldn't\\nimagine how the little boy came on his bed, and, as he couldn't\\nkeep him here very well, I suppose he has taken him home.\\\"\\n\\nSomething like a look of shame came into Judy's bright eyes,\\n\\n\\\"I am afraid I must have put my father to some inconvenience,\\\"\\nshe said quietly. \\\"It was I who left the Gen--my brother here,\\nbecause I didn't know what to do with him\",\n \"a pair of crochet\\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\\n\\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance, and turned her face\\nto the wall for the rest of the evening.\\n\\nThat was what had been hanging over her so heavily all this long\\nfortnight in bed--the thought of school in the future.\\n\\n\\\"What's going to happen to me when I get better, Esther?\\\" she\\nasked next morning, in a depressed way, when her stepmother came to\\nsee her. \\\"Is he saving up a lot of beatings\",\n \"sew or something. You like it better 'n Pip's, don't\\nyou?\\\"\\n\\nJudy temporized skilfully, and averted offence to either by asking\\nthem to put the presents with all the others near the head of the bed.\\n\\n\\\"What a lot of things you'll have to take back to school, Ju,\\\" Nell\\nsaid, as she added her contribution in the shape of a pair of crochet\\ncuffs and a doll's wool jacket.\\n\\nBut Judy only flashed her a reproachful glance,\",\n \"Judy had said solemnly, and all had promised so to conduct\\nthemselves that their father's heart could not fail to be melted.\\n\\nPip put on his school jacket, brushed his hair, took a pile of\\nschool books, and proceeded to the study where his father was\\nwriting letters, and where he was allowed to do his home-lessons.\\n\\n\\\"Well, what do you want?\\\" said the Captain, with a frown. \\\"No,\\nit's no good coming to the about that pup, sir--I won't have\"\n ],\n [\n \"a sentence of death. The room swam before the girl's\\neyes, there was a singing and rushing in her ears.\\n\\n\\\"Come at once,\\\" the Captain said. Judy gave a little caught breath;\\nit tickled her throat and she began to cough.\\n\\nSuch terrible coughing, a paroxysm that shook her thin frame and made\\nher gasp for breath. It lasted two or three minutes, though she put\\nher handkerchief to her mouth to try to stop it.\\n\\nShe was very pale when it ceased, and he noticed the\",\n \"labelled with her name, a cold\\nhand seemed to close about her heart. Still, she said to herself,\\nhe was doing all this to make it seem more real.\\n\\nBut now it was morning, and she could disbelieve it no longer.\\nEsther had come to her bedside and kissed her sorrowfully, her\\nbeautiful face troubled and tender. She had begged as she had\\nnever done before for a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\\nring\",\n \". Nell joined in in a little hysterical way, and\\nBaby began to cry.\\n\\nMeg, white as death, picked her up and hurriedly began telling her\\nthe story of the three bears for comfort.\\n\\nEsther looked a little puzzled, but, of course, never dreamt of\\nconnecting the flying figure with Judy.\\n\\nAnd the Captain seemed delightfully blind and unsuspicious. He\\nlay down on the grass and let the General swarm all over him; he\\nmade jokes with Esther; he told several stories of his young\",\n \"a remission of poor Judy's sentence, but\\nthe Captain was adamant. It was she and she only who was always\\nringleader in everything; the others would behave when she was not\\nthere to incite them to mischief and go she should. Besides, he\\nsaid, it would be the making of her. It was an excellent school\\nhe had chosen for her; the ladies who kept it were kind, but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true\",\n \"in these nasty\\ncases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;\\nshe seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess\\na capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.\\nTake care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,\\na grand woman.\\\"\\n\\nThe Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study\\nbefore he could decide how he could best \\\"take care of her.\\\"\\n\\nAt first he thought he would send her with Meg and\",\n \"heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\\nhorrible thud.\\n\\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces they had as they rushed\\ntowards the sound!\\n\\nThey lifted it off the little bodies--the long, silvered trunk with\\nthe gum dead and dried in streaks upon it. Judy was face downwards,\\nher arms spread out.\\n\\nAnd underneath her was the General, a little shaken, mightily\\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\\nlaid\",\n \"Judy again.\\n\\nShe did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt down\\nand shook her shoulder gently.\\n\\n\\\"Here's some things, Judy--ain't you goin' to eat them?\\\"\\n\\nShe shook her head very slightly.\\n\\n\\\"Have some corned beef, or some currants; there's some peel, too, if\\nyou'd rather.\\\"\\n\\nShe shook her head again. \\\"Do take them away,\\\" she said, with a\\nlittle moan.\\n\\nA look of blank disappointment stole over his\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nThey went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her\\ndays, \\\"would go the softlier, sadlier\\\" because of the price that\\nhad been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air\\nof Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.\\n\\nSo when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor\\nlittle girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a green space of ground on a hill\",\n \"passed, lay back exhausted.\\n\\n\\\"Do fetch some of the others,\\\" she called faintly, as his head was\\ndisappearing. \\\"You're not much good alone, you know.\\\"\\n\\nHis head bobbed back a moment, and he tried to smile away the pain\\nher words gave him, for just at that minute he would have died for\\nher without a murmur.\\n\\n\\\"I'm awf'ly sorry, Judy,\\\" he said gently, \\\"but the others are\\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Jud\",\n \", a little shaken, mightily\\nastonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then\\nlaid him down, and gathered with the others close around Judy.\\n\\nOh, the little dark, quiet head, the motionless body, in its pink,\\ncrushed frock, the small, thin, outspread hands!\\n\\n\\\"Judy!\\\" Pip said, in a voice of beseeching agony. But the only\\nanswer was the wind at the tree-tops and the frightened breathings\\nof the others.\\n\",\n \"ily at a\\ncertain plate, and refusing breakfast altogether; the General was\\ncrashing his own mug and plate joyously together; and Bunty\\nwas eating bread and butter in stolid silence.\\n\\nJudy, white-faced and dry-eyed, was sitting at the table, and Nell\\nand Baby were clinging to either arm. All the three days between\\nthat black Thursday and this doleful morning she had been obstinately\\nuncaring. Her spirits had never seemed higher, her eyes brighter,\\nher tongue sharper, than during that interval of days\",\n \", but very\\nfirm, and Judy was being ruined for want of a firm hand. Which,\\nindeed, was in a measure true.\\n\\nJudy sat bolt upright in bed at the sight of Esther's sorrowful\\nface.\\n\\n\\\"It's no good, dear; there's no way out of it,\\\" she said gently.\\n\\\"But you'll go like a brave girl, won't you, Ju-Ju? You always\\nwere the sort to die game, as Pip says.\\\"\\n\\nJudy gulped down\",\n \"a corner at the far end, and\\ndiscussed the state of affairs with much seriousness. Then Pip got\\nup and, strolled about a little to relieve his feelings, coming\\nback in a second with a white, scared face.\\n\\n\\\"He's on the boat,\\\" he said, in a horrified whisper.\\n\\n\\\"Where-where--where? what--what--what?\\\" Judy cried, unintentionally\\nmimicking a long-buried monarch.\\n\\n\\\"In the cabin, looking as glum as a boiled wallaby, and\",\n \"actual\\nagony to his smarting, quivering shoulders and back. He thought of\\nthe others, happy and heedless, out in the sunshine, trudging merrily\\noff to the river, without a thought of what he was bearing, and his\\nvery heart seethed to burst in the hugeness of its bitterness and\\ndespair. \\\"Judy's home!\\\" he said, in a choking, passionate voice.\\n\\\"She lives in the old shed in the cow, paddock. Boo, hoo, hoo!\\n\",\n \"\\nfather. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he\\nwatched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber\\nof his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?\\n\\n\\\"Judy,\\\" he said in a loud voice.\\n\\nThe closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness\\ncleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute\\nhorror on her face.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing here, may I ask?\\\" he said, very coldly.\",\n \"it had swayed to and fro,\\nrotten through and through; now there came up across the plain a puff\\nof wind, and down it went before it. One wild ringing cry Judy gave,\\nthen she leaped across the ground, her arms outstretched to the little\\nlad running with laughing eyes and lips straight to death.\\n\\nThe crash shook the trees around, the very air seemed splintered.\\n\\nThey had heard it--all the others--heard the wild cry and then the\\nhorrible thud.\\n\\nHow their knees shook what blanched faces\",\n \"of them would.\\n\\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\\naround Judy's lace-up boot.\\n\\nBunty was standing, with a stunned look on his white face, behind\\nthe stretcher. His eyes were on his sister's hair, but he did\\nnot dare to let there wander to her face, for fear of what he should\\nsee there. Nellie was moving all the time--now to the fence to strain\\nher eyes down the road, where the evening shadows lay heavily, now\\nto fling\",\n \"Judy,\\\" he said gently, \\\"but the others are\\nall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please.\\\"\\n\\nJudy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last\\nwords, and turned her face to the wall.\\n\\nTwo big tears trickled down again.\\n\\n\\\"They MIGHT have stayed in,\\\" she said with a sob. \\\"They might\\nhave known I should try to come. Where are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pip's gone fishing,\\\" he said, \\\"and Nell's carrying the basket\",\n \"distance away, talking in subdued voices.\\n\\nThere was nothing for them to do. The brown man had been talking--a\\nrare thing for him.\\n\\nHe had soothed the General off to sleep, and laid him in the bunk\\nwith the blue blanket tucked around him. And he had made a billy\\nof hot strong tea, and asked the children, with tears in his eyes,\\nto drink some, but none of them would.\\n\\nBaby had fallen to sleep on the floor, her arms clasped tightly\\naround Judy's lace-up boot\",\n \"believed, had anyone told him previously, that\\nhe could have done anything so absolutely noble, and the thought\\ncomforted him even while the cuts and scratches smarted. He tried to\\nstifle his sobs as he reached the shed, and even stuffed half a\\nhandful of currants into his mouth towards that end.\\n\\nBut it was a very tearful, scratched, miserable face that bobbed up\\nthe opening near Judy again.\\n\\nShe did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt down\\nand shook her shoulder gently.\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"-scrub at the end was very quiet; there was not a rustle,\\nnot a sound of a voice, not a sound of the affected little laugh\\nthat generally told when Aldith was near.\\n\\nMeg stopped breathless, and peered among the bushes; there was a\\ntall figure leaning against the fence.\\n\\n\\\"Andrew!\\\" she said in a sharp whisper, and forgetting in her\\nanxiety that she never called him by his Christian name--\\\"where\\nare the others? Hasn't Aldith come?\\\"\\n\\nThere was the smell of a cig\",\n \"or little Meg! She was very miserable in these days, and yet it\\nwas a kind of exquisite misery that she hugged to her to keep it\\nwarm. No one guessed her secret. She would have died rather than\\nallow even Aldith to get a suspicion of it, and accepted Andrew's\\nnotes and smiles as if there was nothing more she wanted. But she\\ngrew a trifle thin and large-eyed, and used to make copious notes\\nin her diary every night, and to write a truly appalling quantity\\nof verses, in which\",\n \"the\\nteasing.\\n\\nNowadays Meg spent a great deal of time in her bedroom, that she\\nhad all to herself while Judy was away. In its privacy she\\ntrimmed and retrimmed her hats, altered her dresses, read her\\nnovels, and sat in front of the looking-glass with her hair down,\\ndreaming of being quite grown up and in love. For just now both\\nto Aldith, and herself that state of life seemed the only one\\naltogether lovely and desirable. Meg used to curl herself up in a\\nbig easy-\",\n \"I'll get taken off,\\\" Miss Aldith would say as they started; and\\nby the end of the time Meg would say longingly, \\\"How lovely it must\\nbe to know crowds of gentlemen like you do.\\\"\\n\\nSometimes one or two of them would stop and exchange a word or two,\\nand then Aldith would formally introduce Meg; often, however, the\\nlatter, who was sharp enough for all her foolishness, would fancy\\nshe detected a patronizing, amused air in these gentlemen's\\nmanners. As, indeed, there often was; they were chief\",\n \"t come,\\\" Aldith said, as they parted at her gate.\\n\\n\\\"I--you--Oh, Aldith, I don't see how I can come,\\\" Meg faltered,\\nthe crimson in her cheeks again. \\\"I've never done anything like it\\nbefore. I'm sure it's not right.\\\"\\n\\nBut the curl, in Aldith's lip made her ashamed of herself.\\n\\n\\\"You're just twelve, Marguerite;\\\" the young lady said calmly:\\n\\\"you're not a bit more than twelve. You'\",\n \"suggest improvements as he went along.\\n\\nMeg, who had almost severed her connection with Aldith, devoted\\nherself to her sister, and waited on her hand and foot; she made her\\nall kinds of little presents--a boot-bag, with compartments; a\\nbrush-and-comb bag, with the monogram \\\"J.W.,\\\" worked in pink silk;\\na little work-basket, with needle-book, pin-cushion, and all complete.\\nJudy feared she should be compelled to betake herself to tidy habits\\non\",\n \"ences a friendship sprang up.\\n\\nAldith had three grown-up sisters, whom she aped in everything,\\nand was considerably wiser in the world than simple-minded,\\nromantic Meg.\\n\\nShe lent Meg novels, \\\"Family Herald Supplements\\\", \\\"Young Ladies'\\nJournals\\\", and such publications, and the young girl took to them\\nwith avidity, surprised at the new world into which they took her;\\nfor Charlotte Yonge and Louisa Alcott and Miss Wetherall had hitherto\\nformed her simple and wholesome fare.\",\n \"\\nshe detected a patronizing, amused air in these gentlemen's\\nmanners. As, indeed, there often was; they were chiefly men\\nwhom Aldith had met at dances and tennis in her own home; and\\nwho thought that young lady a precocious child who wanted keeping\\nin the schoolroom a few more years.\\n\\nOne day Aldith came to Misrule brimming over with mysterious\\nimportance. \\\"Come down the garden, Marguerite,\\\" she said,\\ntaking no notice whatever of Baby, who had, with much difficulty,\\nb\",\n \"fled madly away down the long\\npaddocks, to the bit of bush beyond.\\n\\n\\\"Insufferable,\\\" Aldith muttered angrily, and it needed all Meg's\\napologies and coaxings to get her into an amiable frame of mind\\nagain, and to induce her to communicate the enthralling secret.\\n\\nAt last, however, it was imparted, with great impressiveness.\\nAldith's eldest sister was engaged, engaged to be married! Oh!\\nwasn't it heavenly? Wasn't it romantic?\",\n \"and laughed her\\nto utter shame, but unfortunately for Meg's constitution she\\nwas still at school, it being now the third month of her\\nabsence.\\n\\nAldith only lived about twenty minutes' walk from Misrule, so\\nthe two girls were always together. Twice a week they went down\\nto town in the river-boat to learn how to inquire, in polite\\nFrench, \\\"Has the baker's young daughter the yellow hat, brown\\ngloves, and umbrella of the undertaker's niece?\\\" And twice a\\nweek, after they had\",\n \"one caressing little arm round her sister's neck.\\n\\n\\\"I will say Miff MacCarfy iss you will say ze uzzer little pig,\\ntoo.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, send her away, Marguerite, do,\\\" Aldith said impatiently,\\n\\\"I have an enthralling secret to tell you, and I'll have to go soon.\\\"\\n\\nMeg looked interested immediately.\\n\\n\\\"Run away, Baby, dear,\\\" she said, kissing the disappointed little\\nface; \\\"go and play Noah's Ark with Bunty, and I'll finish the\",\n \"in,\\\" had only been said twice,\\nand the exciting part was still to come.\\n\\nBaby looked up with stormy eyes.\\n\\n\\\"Go away, Aldiff,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"Miss MacCarthy,--Baby, dear,\\\" Meg suggested, gently, catching Aldith's\\nhalf-scornful smile.\\n\\n\\\"ALDIFF,\\\" repeated Baby obstinately. Then she relented, and put\\none caressing little arm round her sister's neck.\\n\\n\\\"I will say Miff MacCarfy iss you will say ze uzzer little\",\n \"friend Meg, pronouncing that\\nname to be \\\"too domestic and altogether unlovely.\\\"\\n\\nMeg glanced from her own waist to her friend's slender, beautiful\\none, and sighed profoundly. \\\"What ought I to be?\\\" she said in a\\nlow tone; and Aldith had answered, \\\"Eighteen--or nineteen,\\nMarguerite, at the most; true symmetrical grace can never be\\nobtained with a waist twenty-three inches round.\\\"\\n\\nAldith had not only made statements and comparisons, she had given\\nher friend practical\",\n \"elt-fitting dress body. To walk quickly was positive pain; to\\nstoop, almost agony; but she endured it all with a heroism\\nworthy of a truly noble cause.\\n\\n\\\"How long shall I have to go on like this, Aldith?\\\" she asked\\nonce faintly, after a French lesson that she had scarcely been\\nable to sit through.\\n\\nAnd the older girl answered carelessly, \\\"Oh, you mustn't leave\\nit off, of course, but you don't feel it at all after a bit.\\\"\\n\\nWith which assurance Meg\",\n \"chief charm, just to show its bright,\\nwarm colouring more clearly. Aldith had, to her own infinite\\nsatisfaction, brushed away her own \\\"bloom,\\\" and was at present\\nbusily engaged in trying to remove Meg's, which was very soft\\nand lovely before she touched it. The novels had taken away a\\nlittle, and the \\\"Block\\\" a little more, but, Meg was naturally\\nfreshminded, and it took time to make much difference. Just now,\\nunder her friend's tutelage, she was being inducted into the\\n\",\n \"end of the boat--cigars at the beginning\\nof term and a short, black, villainous-looking pipe at the end--and\\nMeg used secretly to think how manly he looked, and to sigh profoundly.\\n\\nFor I may as well tell you now as later what this foolish little\\nthing had done after a few months' course of Aldith and novels.\\nShe had fallen in love as nearly as it is possible for sweet sixteen\\nto do; and it was with Alan, who had no good looks nor pleasant\\nmanners--not Andrew, who had speaking eyes, and\",\n \"inea-pigs and canaries were progressing,\\nand what was the very latest thing in clothes or boots the new\\nretriever puppy had devoured.\\n\\nAnd Bunty used to bring in the white mice and the blind French\\nguinea-pig, and let them run loose over the counterpane, and Pip did\\nmost of his carpentering on a little table near, so she could see\\neach fresh stage and suggest improvements as he went along.\\n\\nMeg, who had almost severed her connection with Aldith, devoted\\nherself to her sister,\",\n \"said. \\\"I'm glad you're going to, dear, it looked just a wee bit\\ndowdy, didn't it?\\\" Meg coloured again.\\n\\n\\\"Have you done your French?\\\" she said, as she pulled open the\\ngate.\\n\\n\\\"In a way,\\\" Aldith said carelessly. Then she put up her chin,\\n\\\"Those frowzy-looking Smiths always make a point of having no\\nmistakes; and, Janet Green, whose hats are always four seasons\\nbehind the fashions; I prefer to\",\n \"the paddocks together, and parted at a broken gate\\nleading into the garden.\\n\\n\\\"I'll never flirt again while I live,\\\" she said with great\\nearnestness, as he bade her good-bye; and he answered encouragingly,\\n\\\"No, I am quite sure you won't--leave it to girls like Aldith, won't\\nyou? you only wanted to be set straight. Good-bye, little Miss Meg.\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER IX\\n\\nConsequences\\n\\n\\n \\\"However could you do it?\\n \",\n \"acing.\\\" She asked Aldith to suggest something,\\nand that young person thought that vaseline and sulphur mixed\\ntogether, and spread over the afflicted member, would have the\\ndesired effect. So every night Meg fastened her bedroom door\\nwith a wedge of wood, keys being unknown luxuries at Misrule,\\nand anointed her, poor little nose most carefully with the\\ngreasy mixture, lying all night on her back to prevent it\\nrubbing off on the pillow.\\n\\nOnce Pip had forced his way into demand a few stitches for his\\nbr\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["Why is one of the children sent away to boarding school in the Blue Mountains?","Who influenced Meg to tight-lace her waist?","Why does Alan not find Meg attractive?","Where does Judy hide when she returns home from school?","Why does her father not send Judy back immediately after he found that she had run away from school?","What type of property do Esther's parents invite the children to?","How does Judy die?","Who is 'The General'?","Where does the family bury Judy?","Where did the children live in Austrailia? ","What was the name of the Army capatain who did not understand them?","What was the name of the stepmother who could discipline them?","Where is the boarding school where Judy is sent away?","Who was the girl who influenced Meg to tight lace her waist making her sick?","Why did Judy become sick after runing away from school? ","What sickness allowed Judy to stay at home with the family she missed?","What is the name of the sheep station where Esther parents lived?","What kind of tree fell and breaks the back of Judy?","What is the name of the youngest of the seven siblings?","Why was Judy sent to boarding school?","Who was hurt while trying to save The General?","What do the children ask for from dinner guests that might embarrass the parents?","Why is Meg embarrassed during a meeting?","Why does Judy run away from school?","What about the stepmtother might make it hard for her to control her stepchildren?","Why did Judy's father not send her back to school?","What does the Captain attempt to do in response to Judy's death?","What effect does Aldith have on Meg?"],"string":"[\n \"Why is one of the children sent away to boarding school in the Blue Mountains?\",\n \"Who influenced Meg to tight-lace her waist?\",\n \"Why does Alan not find Meg attractive?\",\n \"Where does Judy hide when she returns home from school?\",\n \"Why does her father not send Judy back immediately after he found that she had run away from school?\",\n \"What type of property do Esther's parents invite the children to?\",\n \"How does Judy die?\",\n \"Who is 'The General'?\",\n \"Where does the family bury Judy?\",\n \"Where did the children live in Austrailia? \",\n \"What was the name of the Army capatain who did not understand them?\",\n \"What was the name of the stepmother who could discipline them?\",\n \"Where is the boarding school where Judy is sent away?\",\n \"Who was the girl who influenced Meg to tight lace her waist making her sick?\",\n \"Why did Judy become sick after runing away from school? \",\n \"What sickness allowed Judy to stay at home with the family she missed?\",\n \"What is the name of the sheep station where Esther parents lived?\",\n \"What kind of tree fell and breaks the back of Judy?\",\n \"What is the name of the youngest of the seven siblings?\",\n \"Why was Judy sent to boarding school?\",\n \"Who was hurt while trying to save The General?\",\n \"What do the children ask for from dinner guests that might embarrass the parents?\",\n \"Why is Meg embarrassed during a meeting?\",\n \"Why does Judy run away from school?\",\n \"What about the stepmtother might make it hard for her to control her stepchildren?\",\n \"Why did Judy's father not send her back to school?\",\n \"What does the Captain attempt to do in response to Judy's death?\",\n \"What effect does Aldith have on Meg?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["she was the ringleader of a prank","A prank embarrassed Captain Woolcot at his military barracks"],["Aldith","Aldith."],["he believes she is 'spoilt'","She is spoiled"],["in the barn","in the barn"],["She had pneumonia.","A doctor examination proved she had pneumonia and could develop tuberculosis. "],["a sheep station","sheep station"],["saving 'The General' from a falling tree","Tree fell on her"],["the youngest sibling of the children","The youngest of the seven siblings "],["her grandparents' property","On the property of Esther's parents "],["Sydney","Sydney "],["Captain Woolcot","Woolcot"],["Esther","Esther"],["The Blue Mountains","In the Blue Mountains"],["Aldith","Aldith "],["She walked for several days","She walked for several days and catches pneumonia. "],["pnuemonia","Pneumonia"],["Yarrahappini","Yarrahappini"],["a ring barked tree","Ringbark"],["The General","the General"],["She was the ringleader involved in a prank.","A prank she pulled on her father."],["Judy","Judy"],["Part of their dinner","some of their dinner"],["The wrong brother, Alan shows up.","Meg was embarrassed because Alan was not approved of her beehaviour."],["She is unhappy being away from her siblings.","She miss her family"],["She is only 20 years old.","She is 20 years old and does not discipline them."],["She came down with pneumonia.","she got pneumonia"],["Treasure the children more.","tries to treasure his remaining children more"],["Meg tries to approve her appearance.","She makes Meg fashionable"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"she was the ringleader of a prank\",\n \"A prank embarrassed Captain Woolcot at his military barracks\"\n ],\n [\n \"Aldith\",\n \"Aldith.\"\n ],\n [\n \"he believes she is 'spoilt'\",\n \"She is spoiled\"\n ],\n [\n \"in the barn\",\n \"in the barn\"\n ],\n [\n \"She had pneumonia.\",\n \"A doctor examination proved she had pneumonia and could develop tuberculosis. \"\n ],\n [\n \"a sheep station\",\n \"sheep station\"\n ],\n [\n \"saving 'The General' from a falling tree\",\n \"Tree fell on her\"\n ],\n [\n \"the youngest sibling of the children\",\n \"The youngest of the seven siblings \"\n ],\n [\n \"her grandparents' property\",\n \"On the property of Esther's parents \"\n ],\n [\n \"Sydney\",\n \"Sydney \"\n ],\n [\n \"Captain Woolcot\",\n \"Woolcot\"\n ],\n [\n \"Esther\",\n \"Esther\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Blue Mountains\",\n \"In the Blue Mountains\"\n ],\n [\n \"Aldith\",\n \"Aldith \"\n ],\n [\n \"She walked for several days\",\n \"She walked for several days and catches pneumonia. \"\n ],\n [\n \"pnuemonia\",\n \"Pneumonia\"\n ],\n [\n \"Yarrahappini\",\n \"Yarrahappini\"\n ],\n [\n \"a ring barked tree\",\n \"Ringbark\"\n ],\n [\n \"The General\",\n \"the General\"\n ],\n [\n \"She was the ringleader involved in a prank.\",\n \"A prank she pulled on her father.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Judy\",\n \"Judy\"\n ],\n [\n \"Part of their dinner\",\n \"some of their dinner\"\n ],\n [\n \"The wrong brother, Alan shows up.\",\n \"Meg was embarrassed because Alan was not approved of her beehaviour.\"\n ],\n [\n \"She is unhappy being away from her siblings.\",\n \"She miss her family\"\n ],\n [\n \"She is only 20 years old.\",\n \"She is 20 years old and does not discipline them.\"\n ],\n [\n \"She came down with pneumonia.\",\n \"she got pneumonia\"\n ],\n [\n \"Treasure the children more.\",\n \"tries to treasure his remaining children more\"\n ],\n [\n \"Meg tries to approve her appearance.\",\n \"She makes Meg fashionable\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"c5ada098b3a74fbe9dbd4d6f15121ef92aed7f02"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":29,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy","\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\nwine.\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\n\n\n\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed","--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\npassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for\ndigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the\nscarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And\nthe otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in\nwinter--\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\n","ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\nsoon recovered.\n\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\n\n\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited","\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\n","y, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the","off all the frogs while he was asleep in\nwinter--\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\non pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!\" said\nTommy Brock.\n\n\n\nIt was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy\nBrock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he","caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\"\n\n\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\"\nBenjamin did so.\n\n\n\n\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncirc",", Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\nhole.\n\n\n\n\n\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b","Old Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited long enough to be\nable to tell the end of the battle between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.\n\nTHE END\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tale of Mr. Tod, by Beatrix Potter\n\n","\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n\n\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\"\n\n\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\nPlease tell me quick!\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he","pice, causing terror to\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\n\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\n\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without","ck\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\nears, and slapped him.\n\n\n\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through","the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\npassing.\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\nthe hill).\n\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to",", digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\n\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that","anting on the hill pastures. Half way\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\n\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\nwhile she watched him.\n\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"","in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\n\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\n\n\n\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut"],["\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n\n\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\"\n\n\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\nPlease tell me quick!\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the","caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\"\n\n\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\"\nBenjamin did so.\n\n\n\n\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncirc","the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\nhunting for dandelions.--\"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!\"\nshouted Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThe blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears--\n\n\n\n\"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat\nFerret?\"\n\n\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he",".\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\"He\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\" whispered Peter.\n\n\n\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\n\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun","\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\nagain!\" sighed Benjamin.\n\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\nthe window-sill.\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn","'s supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\n\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them","the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\n\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits","and listening.\n\nIn half an hour the moon rose over the wood. It shone full and clear and\ncold, upon the house amongst the rocks, and in at the kitchen window.\nBut alas, no little rabbit babies were to be seen!\n\nThe moonbeams twinkled on the carving knife and the pie dish, and made a\npath of brightness across the dirty floor.\n\nThe light showed a little door in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to","window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\n\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod watched","y, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was","He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\ncautiously and went in.\n\n\n\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his","ck\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\nears, and slapped him.\n\n\n\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through","the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThey climbed up and up;--\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\nout of the hole.\" \"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\"\n\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,","and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\n\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\npuzzled.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co",", a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the\nkitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the\nrabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.\n\nBenjamin sighed with relief.\n\n\n\nBut there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\na large","\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\n\n\n\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\npail rolling over and over.\n\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket","in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\n\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\n\n\n\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut"],["the kitchen floor.\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\ndown; he was outside the tunnel, shuffling sand away. He called out that\nit was morning--sunrise; and that the jays were making a noise down\nbelow in the woods.\n\nBenjamin Bunny came out of the dark tunnel, shaking the sand from his\nears; he cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shone\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\nmist","had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught\non a briar.\n\nBenjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole\ntrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was\ngetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy\nthe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\nhunting for dandelions.--\"Cousin Peter","was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy","'s supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\n\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them","what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\n\n\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes",", Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\nhole.\n\n\n\n\n\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\nagain!\" sighed Benjamin.\n\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\nthe window-sill.\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn","ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\nsoon recovered.\n\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\n\n\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited","the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThey climbed up and up;--\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\nout of the hole.\" \"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\"\n\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,","ck\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\nears, and slapped him.\n\n\n\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through","the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\nhunting for dandelions.--\"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!\"\nshouted Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThe blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears--\n\n\n\n\"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat\nFerret?\"\n\n\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the","y, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was","caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\"\n\n\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\"\nBenjamin did so.\n\n\n\n\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncirc","was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\nold enough to crawl.\n\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between","a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between the large stones under the house; the\nkitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it was\nmade of earth or flags.\n\n\n\nThey dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account of\nstones; but by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor.\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\ndown; he was outside the","not.\"\n\n\"Yes they are!\"\n\n\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\nquarry.\"\n\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\n\n\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\nhe won't miss them.\"\n\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\n\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and","in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\n\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\n\n\n\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut"],["at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without asking leave).\n\nTommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; he\ngrinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp\nnests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight, digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\n","upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\n\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up","pice, causing terror to\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\n\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\n\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without","the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\npassing.\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\nthe hill).\n\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to",".\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\"He\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\" whispered Peter.\n\n\n\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\n\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun","le, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\n\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\n\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\ncreaked;","back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\nbetter of it, and took them away.\n\n\n\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person","ur.\"\n\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\"First I\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\nblanket....\"\n\nHe opened the door....\n\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\n\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\npuzzled.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with",". Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe reached up and put the end of rope, with the hook, over the head of\nthe tester bed, where the curtains ought to hang.\n\n(Mr. Tod's curtains were folded up, and put away, owing to the house\nbeing unoccupied. So was the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a\nblanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon\nhim","). He opened the\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\nremained in his hand.\n\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\na minute; then he left the room again.\n\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the","pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\nbushes, listening anxiously.\n\n\n\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\n\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\n\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\n\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\nand there were handfuls of Mr.","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the","\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\nwine.\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\n\n\n\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed","end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\n","water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\n\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\n\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n","He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\ncautiously and went in.\n\n\n\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his","\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n\n\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\"\n\n\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\nPlease tell me quick!\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he"],["pice, causing terror to\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\n\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\n\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without","at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without asking leave).\n\nTommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; he\ngrinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp\nnests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight, digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\n","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he","the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\npassing.\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\nthe hill).\n\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to",", digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\n\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that","back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\nbetter of it, and took them away.\n\n\n\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person","\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\nwine.\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\n\n\n\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed",".\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\"He\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\" whispered Peter.\n\n\n\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\n\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun","anting on the hill pastures. Half way\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\n\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\nwhile she watched him.\n\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"","upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\n\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up","\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n\n\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\"\n\n\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\nPlease tell me quick!\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he","off all the frogs while he was asleep in\nwinter--\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\non pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!\" said\nTommy Brock.\n\n\n\nIt was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy\nBrock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and","water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling\nover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-bath,\nworked by a string, through the window.\n\n\n\nBut naturally being a thin-legged person (though vindictive and sandy\nwhiskered)--he was quite unable to lift the heavy weight to the level of\nthe hook and rope. He very nearly overbalanced himself.\n\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\nlegs twitched","and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\n\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\npuzzled.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with","very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\n\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\ncreaked; he turned round with a jump. Tommy Brock, who had opened one\neye--shut it hastily. The snores continued.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod's proceedings were peculiar, and rather uneasy, (because the bed\nwas between the window and the door of the bedroom). He opened the\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\non to the window sill. The rest of the","le, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\n\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\n\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\ncreaked;","ung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\nup on the chair.\n\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\nmoved,--except","water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\n\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\n\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n","). He opened the\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\nremained in his hand.\n\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\na minute; then he left the room again.\n\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the","--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\npassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for\ndigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the\nscarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And\nthe otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in\nwinter--\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\n"],["they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\nlistening and peeping.\n\n\n\n\n\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\ncautiously and went in.\n\n\n\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his","Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\nknife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that he\nhad left folded up in the dresser--all set out for supper (or\nbreakfast)--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep","oolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod's\nkitchen floor.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod was coming up Bull Banks, and he was in the very worst of\ntempers. First he had been upset by breaking the plate. It was his own\nfault; but it was a china plate, the last of the dinner service that had\nbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been\nvery bad. And he had","was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy","what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\n\n\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes","in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\n\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n","his paws. Every minute the sun shone\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\n\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\n\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod","pice, causing terror to\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\n\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\n\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without","badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\n\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out","the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\npassing.\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\nthe hill).\n\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to","in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\n\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\n\n\n\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut","not.\"\n\n\"Yes they are!\"\n\n\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\nquarry.\"\n\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\n\n\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\nhe won't miss them.\"\n\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\n\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and","\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\n","at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without asking leave).\n\nTommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; he\ngrinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp\nnests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight, digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\n","who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\n\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grunty and regular from Mr. Tod's bed.\nNothing could be seen of the young family.\n\nThe sun had set; an owl began to hoot in the wood. There were many\nunpleasant things lying about, that had much better have been buried;\nrabbit bones and skulls, and chickens' legs and other horrors. It was a\nshocking place, and very dark.\n\nThey went back to the","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he","the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\n\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits"],["they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\nlistening and peeping.\n\n\n\n\n\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting","He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\ncautiously and went in.\n\n\n\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his","Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\nknife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that he\nhad left folded up in the dresser--all set out for supper (or\nbreakfast)--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co",", digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\n\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that","badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\n\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out","his paws. Every minute the sun shone\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\n\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\n\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod","). He opened the\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\nremained in his hand.\n\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\na minute; then he left the room again.\n\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the","pice, causing terror to\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\n\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\n\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without","605 8\n\n12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (C)\n\nFOR\nFRANCIS WILLIAM OF ULVA\n----SOMEDAY!\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE TALE OF MR. TOD\n\n\nI have made many books about well-behaved people. Now, for a change, I\nam going to make a story about two disagreeable people, called Tommy\nBrock and Mr. Tod.\n\nNobody could call Mr.","pollard willow, but it was damp; and the otters had left a\ndead fish near it. Mr. Tod likes nobody's leavings but his own.\n\nHe made his way up the hill; his temper was not improved by noticing\nunmistakable marks of badger. No one else grubs up the moss so wantonly\nas Tommy Brock.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod slapped his stick upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\nfollow","the dinner service that had\nbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been\nvery bad. And he had failed to catch a hen pheasant on her nest; and it\nhad contained only five eggs, two of them addled. Mr. Tod had had an\nunsatisfactory night.\n\n\n\nAs usual, when out of humour, he determined to move house. First he\ntried the pollard willow, but it was damp; and the otters had left a\ndead fish near it. Mr. Tod likes nobody's leav","oolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod's\nkitchen floor.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod was coming up Bull Banks, and he was in the very worst of\ntempers. First he had been upset by breaking the plate. It was his own\nfault; but it was a china plate, the last of the dinner service that had\nbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been\nvery bad. And he had","end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\n","balanced himself.\n\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\n\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up","water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\n\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\n\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n","\nam going to make a story about two disagreeable people, called Tommy\nBrock and Mr. Tod.\n\nNobody could call Mr. Tod \"nice.\" The rabbits could not bear him; they\ncould smell him half a mile off. He was of a wandering habit and he had\nfoxey whiskers; they never knew where he would be next.\n\n\n\nOne day he was living in a stick-house in the coppice, causing terror to\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\nwillow near the lake","ur.\"\n\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\"First I\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\nblanket....\"\n\nHe opened the door....\n\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed","le, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\n\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\n\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\ncreaked;","upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\n\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up"],["le, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\n\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\n\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\ncreaked;","balanced himself.\n\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\n\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up","in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\n\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n","). He opened the\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\nremained in his hand.\n\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\na minute; then he left the room again.\n\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the",", digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\n\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that","end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\n","water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\n\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\n\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n","like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\nmoved,--except one eye.\n\n\n\n\n\nAt last Mr. Tod's preparations were complete. The pail was full of\nwater; the rope was tightly strained over the top of the bed, and across\nthe window sill to the tree outside.\n\n\"It will make a great mess in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nMr","back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\nbetter of it, and took them away.\n\n\n\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person","ung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\nup on the chair.\n\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\nmoved,--except","was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\nold enough to crawl.\n\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between","and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\n\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\npuzzled.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\n\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits",". Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe reached up and put the end of rope, with the hook, over the head of\nthe tester bed, where the curtains ought to hang.\n\n(Mr. Tod's curtains were folded up, and put away, owing to the house\nbeing unoccupied. So was the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a\nblanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon\nhim","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he",".\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\"He\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\" whispered Peter.\n\n\n\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\n\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun","the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a\nblanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon\nhim attentively; he really was a first prize sound sleeper!\n\nIt seemed as though nothing would waken him--not even the flapping rope\nacross the bed.\n\nMr. Tod descended safely from the chair, and endeavoured to get up again\nwith the pail of water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling\nover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-","ur.\"\n\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\"First I\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\nblanket....\"\n\nHe opened the door....\n\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed","badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\n\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out"],[", Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\nhole.\n\n\n\n\n\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b","was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy","ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\nsoon recovered.\n\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\n\n\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\n\n\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes","y, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was","'s supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\n\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them","was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\nold enough to crawl.\n\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThey climbed up and up;--\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\nout of the hole.\" \"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\"\n\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the","\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\nagain!\" sighed Benjamin.\n\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\nthe window-sill.\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn","they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\nlistening and peeping.\n\n\n\n\n\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting","ck\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\nears, and slapped him.\n\n\n\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through","\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\n","pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\nbushes, listening anxiously.\n\n\n\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\n\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\n\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\n\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\nand there were handfuls of Mr.",", who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to be seen. He seemed to\nhave put down the sack every dozen yards, to rest.\n\n\"He must be very puffed; we are close behind him, by the scent. What a\nnasty person!\" said Peter.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe sunshine was still warm and slanting on the hill pastures. Half way\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\n","the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\npassing.\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\nthe hill).\n\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to","his paws. Every minute the sun shone\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\n\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\n\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod","the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\nhunting for dandelions.--\"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!\"\nshouted Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThe blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears--\n\n\n\n\"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat\nFerret?\"\n\n\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n"],["\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n\n\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\"\n\n\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\nPlease tell me quick!\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he",", digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\n\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that","water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling\nover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-bath,\nworked by a string, through the window.\n\n\n\nBut naturally being a thin-legged person (though vindictive and sandy\nwhiskered)--he was quite unable to lift the heavy weight to the level of\nthe hook and rope. He very nearly overbalanced himself.\n\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\nlegs twitched","anting on the hill pastures. Half way\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\n\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\nwhile she watched him.\n\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"","off all the frogs while he was asleep in\nwinter--\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\non pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!\" said\nTommy Brock.\n\n\n\nIt was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy\nBrock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and","le, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\n\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\n\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\ncreaked;","ur.\"\n\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\"First I\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\nblanket....\"\n\nHe opened the door....\n\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed","at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without asking leave).\n\nTommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; he\ngrinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp\nnests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight, digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\n","). He opened the\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\nremained in his hand.\n\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\na minute; then he left the room again.\n\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the","Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he had\nrooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he had dug quite a deep hole\nfor dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the\nway. Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger's heavy steps\nshowed plainly in the mud.\n\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\nthere were leaf","ung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\nup on the chair.\n\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\nmoved,--except","upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\n\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up",". Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe reached up and put the end of rope, with the hook, over the head of\nthe tester bed, where the curtains ought to hang.\n\n(Mr. Tod's curtains were folded up, and put away, owing to the house\nbeing unoccupied. So was the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a\nblanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon\nhim","pice, causing terror to\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\n\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\n\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without","\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\nwine.\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\n\n\n\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed","and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\n\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\npuzzled.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with","back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\nbetter of it, and took them away.\n\n\n\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he","the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\npassing.\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\nthe hill).\n\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co"],["was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy",", Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\nhole.\n\n\n\n\n\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","not.\"\n\n\"Yes they are!\"\n\n\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\nquarry.\"\n\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\n\n\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\nhe won't miss them.\"\n\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\n\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and","the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThey climbed up and up;--\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\nout of the hole.\" \"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\"\n\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,","'s supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\n\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them","the kitchen floor.\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\ndown; he was outside the tunnel, shuffling sand away. He called out that\nit was morning--sunrise; and that the jays were making a noise down\nbelow in the woods.\n\nBenjamin Bunny came out of the dark tunnel, shaking the sand from his\nears; he cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shone\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\nmist","\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\n","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\nsoon recovered.\n\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\n\n\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited","y, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was","ck\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\nears, and slapped him.\n\n\n\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through","what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\n\n\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes","had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught\non a briar.\n\nBenjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole\ntrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was\ngetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy\nthe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\nhunting for dandelions.--\"Cousin Peter","the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\nhunting for dandelions.--\"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!\"\nshouted Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThe blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears--\n\n\n\n\"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat\nFerret?\"\n\n\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n","the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\npassing.\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\nthe hill).\n\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the","was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\nold enough to crawl.\n\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between","\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\nagain!\" sighed Benjamin.\n\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\nthe window-sill.\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn","\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\nwine.\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\n\n\n\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed"],["\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\nwine.\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\n\n\n\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the","was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy","ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\nsoon recovered.\n\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\n\n\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\n","pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\nbushes, listening anxiously.\n\n\n\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\n\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\n\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\n\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\nand there were handfuls of Mr.","y, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was","anting on the hill pastures. Half way\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\n\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\nwhile she watched him.\n\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"","--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\npassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for\ndigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the\nscarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And\nthe otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in\nwinter--\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\n","off all the frogs while he was asleep in\nwinter--\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\non pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!\" said\nTommy Brock.\n\n\n\nIt was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy\nBrock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and","ck\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\nears, and slapped him.\n\n\n\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr.\nTod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific battle all\nover the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floor\nwould give way at each crash of falling furniture.\n\nThey crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\nbushes, listening anxiously.\n\n\n\nInside the house the racket","badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\n\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out","the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\npassing.\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\nthe hill).\n\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to","went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits.\n\n\n\n\n\nWhen Mr. Tod got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain had\ndragged the knot so tight that it was past untying. He was obliged to\ngnaw it with his teeth. He chewed and gnawed for more than twenty\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.","not only a foxey flavour in proof of it--there was smoke\ncoming out of the broken pail that served as a chimney.\n\nBenjamin Bunny sat up, staring; his whiskers twitched. Inside the stick\nhouse somebody dropped a plate, and said something. Benjamin stamped his\nfoot, and bolted.\n\nHe never stopped till he came to the other side of the wood. Apparently\nTommy Brock had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack",", digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\n\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that",", Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\nhole.\n\n\n\n\n\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b"],["was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the","\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\n","y, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","ck\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\nears, and slapped him.\n\n\n\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through",", Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\nhole.\n\n\n\n\n\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b","ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\nsoon recovered.\n\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\n\n\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited","--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\npassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for\ndigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the\nscarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And\nthe otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in\nwinter--\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\n","\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\nwine.\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\n\n\n\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThey climbed up and up;--\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\nout of the hole.\" \"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\"\n\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,","the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\npassing.\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\nthe hill).\n\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to","pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\nbushes, listening anxiously.\n\n\n\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\n\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\n\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\n\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\nand there were handfuls of Mr.","what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\n\n\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes","'s supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\n\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them","\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\nagain!\" sighed Benjamin.\n\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\nthe window-sill.\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn","they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\nlistening and peeping.\n\n\n\n\n\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting","\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr.\nTod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific battle all\nover the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floor\nwould give way at each crash of falling furniture.\n\nThey crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\nbushes, listening anxiously.\n\n\n\nInside the house the racket","caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\"\n\n\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\"\nBenjamin did so.\n\n\n\n\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncirc"],["\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n\n\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\"\n\n\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\nPlease tell me quick!\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he","had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught\non a briar.\n\nBenjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole\ntrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was\ngetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy\nthe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\nhunting for dandelions.--\"Cousin Peter","caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\"\n\n\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\"\nBenjamin did so.\n\n\n\n\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncirc","the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\nhunting for dandelions.--\"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!\"\nshouted Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThe blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears--\n\n\n\n\"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat\nFerret?\"\n\n\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n",", Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\nhole.\n\n\n\n\n\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b","not.\"\n\n\"Yes they are!\"\n\n\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\nquarry.\"\n\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\n\n\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\nhe won't miss them.\"\n\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\n\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he","Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he had\nrooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he had dug quite a deep hole\nfor dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the\nway. Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger's heavy steps\nshowed plainly in the mud.\n\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\nthere were leaf","the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThey climbed up and up;--\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\nout of the hole.\" \"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\"\n\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,","in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\n\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\n\n\n\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut",", a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the\nkitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the\nrabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.\n\nBenjamin sighed with relief.\n\n\n\nBut there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\na large","was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy","what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\n\n\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes","a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between the large stones under the house; the\nkitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it was\nmade of earth or flags.\n\n\n\nThey dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account of\nstones; but by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor.\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\ndown; he was outside the","ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\nsoon recovered.\n\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\n\n\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the","the kitchen floor.\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\ndown; he was outside the tunnel, shuffling sand away. He called out that\nit was morning--sunrise; and that the jays were making a noise down\nbelow in the woods.\n\nBenjamin Bunny came out of the dark tunnel, shaking the sand from his\nears; he cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shone\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\nmist","'s supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\n\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them","\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\nagain!\" sighed Benjamin.\n\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\nthe window-sill.\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn","never be any\nlove lost between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nAs soon as the coast was clear, Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny came out\nof the bushes--\n\n\"Now for it! Run in, Cousin Benjamin! Run in and get them! while I watch\nat the door.\"\n\nBut Benjamin was frightened--\n\n\"Oh; oh! they are coming back!\"\n\n\"No they are not.\"\n\n\"Yes they are!\"\n\n\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\nquarry.\"\n\n"],["in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\n\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\n\n\n\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co",".\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\"He\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\" whispered Peter.\n\n\n\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\n\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he","\nshowed plainly in the mud.\n\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\nthere were leafy oak stumps, and a sea of blue hyacinths--but the smell\nthat made Benjamin stop, was _not_ the smell of flowers!\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod's stick house was before him and, for once, Mr. Tod was at home.\nThere was not only a foxey flavour in proof of it--there was smoke\ncoming out of the broken pail that served as a chimney.\n","what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\n\n\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes","He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\ncautiously and went in.\n\n\n\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his","they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\nlistening and peeping.\n\n\n\n\n\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting","not.\"\n\n\"Yes they are!\"\n\n\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\nquarry.\"\n\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\n\n\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\nhe won't miss them.\"\n\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\n\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\n\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\npuzzled.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with","Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\nknife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that he\nhad left folded up in the dresser--all set out for supper (or\nbreakfast)--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep","pice, causing terror to\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\n\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\n\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without","who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\n\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grunty and regular from Mr. Tod's bed.\nNothing could be seen of the young family.\n\nThe sun had set; an owl began to hoot in the wood. There were many\nunpleasant things lying about, that had much better have been buried;\nrabbit bones and skulls, and chickens' legs and other horrors. It was a\nshocking place, and very dark.\n\nThey went back to the","'s supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\n\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them","was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\nold enough to crawl.\n\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between","in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\n\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n","ur.\"\n\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\"First I\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\nblanket....\"\n\nHe opened the door....\n\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed","of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nWhen the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who was still grinning, happened to\nbe uppermost; and he rolled Mr. Tod over and over like a log, out at the\ndoor.\n\nThen the snarling and worrying went on outside; and they rolled over the\nbank, and down hill, bumping over the rocks. There will never be any\nlove lost between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nAs soon as the coast was clear, Peter Rabbit and Benjamin","badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\n\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out"],["le, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\n\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\n\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\ncreaked;","end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\n","). He opened the\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\nremained in his hand.\n\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\na minute; then he left the room again.\n\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the","upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\n\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up","balanced himself.\n\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\n\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up","ur.\"\n\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\"First I\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\nblanket....\"\n\nHe opened the door....\n\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed","in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\n\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n","and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\n\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\npuzzled.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\nmoved,--except one eye.\n\n\n\n\n\nAt last Mr. Tod's preparations were complete. The pail was full of\nwater; the rope was tightly strained over the top of the bed, and across\nthe window sill to the tree outside.\n\n\"It will make a great mess in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nMr","water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\n\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\n\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n","at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without asking leave).\n\nTommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; he\ngrinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp\nnests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight, digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\n",". Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe reached up and put the end of rope, with the hook, over the head of\nthe tester bed, where the curtains ought to hang.\n\n(Mr. Tod's curtains were folded up, and put away, owing to the house\nbeing unoccupied. So was the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a\nblanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon\nhim","was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\nold enough to crawl.\n\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between","\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\n\n\n\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\npail rolling over and over.\n\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket","back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\nbetter of it, and took them away.\n\n\n\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person",", digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\n\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that","the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him\ndead!\n\n\"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he has dug. I will\nbring my bedding out, and dry it in the sun,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\"I will wash the tablecloth and spread it on the grass in the sun to\nbleach. And the blanket must be hung up in the wind; and the bed must be\nthoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a\nhot-water bottle.\"\n","ung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\nup on the chair.\n\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\nmoved,--except","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he"],["Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\nknife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that he\nhad left folded up in the dresser--all set out for supper (or\nbreakfast)--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep","He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\ncautiously and went in.\n\n\n\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his","\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\n\n\n\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\npail rolling over and over.\n\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket","window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\n\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod watched","le, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\n\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\n\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\ncreaked;","water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\n\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\n\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n","badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\n\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out","in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\n\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\n\n\n\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut","end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\n","in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\n\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n","ur.\"\n\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\"First I\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\nblanket....\"\n\nHe opened the door....\n\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed","back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\nbetter of it, and took them away.\n\n\n\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person","went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits.\n\n\n\n\n\nWhen Mr. Tod got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain had\ndragged the knot so tight that it was past untying. He was obliged to\ngnaw it with his teeth. He chewed and gnawed for more than twenty\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\n\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up","the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\n\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits","preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\na large carving knife and fork, and a chopper.\n\nAt the other end of the table was a partly unfolded tablecloth, a plate,\na tumbler, a knife and fork, salt-cellar, mustard and a chair--in short,\npreparations for one person's supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock","\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr.\nTod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific battle all\nover the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floor\nwould give way at each crash of falling furniture.\n\nThey crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\nbushes, listening anxiously.\n\n\n\nInside the house the racket","balanced himself.\n\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\n\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up","and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\n\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\npuzzled.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with"],["and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr.\nTod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific battle all\nover the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floor\nwould give way at each crash of falling furniture.\n\nThey crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\nbushes, listening anxiously.\n\n\n\nInside the house the racket","his paws. Every minute the sun shone\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\n\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\n\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod","of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nWhen the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who was still grinning, happened to\nbe uppermost; and he rolled Mr. Tod over and over like a log, out at the\ndoor.\n\nThen the snarling and worrying went on outside; and they rolled over the\nbank, and down hill, bumping over the rocks. There will never be any\nlove lost between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nAs soon as the coast was clear, Peter Rabbit and Benjamin","they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\nlistening and peeping.\n\n\n\n\n\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting","what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\n\n\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes","'s supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\n\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them","in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\n\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n",", Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\nhole.\n\n\n\n\n\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b","who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\n\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grunty and regular from Mr. Tod's bed.\nNothing could be seen of the young family.\n\nThe sun had set; an owl began to hoot in the wood. There were many\nunpleasant things lying about, that had much better have been buried;\nrabbit bones and skulls, and chickens' legs and other horrors. It was a\nshocking place, and very dark.\n\nThey went back to the","badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\n\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out","\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\nagain!\" sighed Benjamin.\n\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\nthe window-sill.\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn","end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\n","was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\nold enough to crawl.\n\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","not.\"\n\n\"Yes they are!\"\n\n\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\nquarry.\"\n\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\n\n\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\nhe won't miss them.\"\n\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\n\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and","He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\ncautiously and went in.\n\n\n\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his","the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\npassing.\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\nthe hill).\n\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to",", digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\n\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that","was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy"],["\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n\n\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\"\n\n\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\nPlease tell me quick!\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he","y, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was","'s supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\n\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them","the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\nhunting for dandelions.--\"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!\"\nshouted Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThe blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears--\n\n\n\n\"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat\nFerret?\"\n\n\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n","was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy",", a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the\nkitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the\nrabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.\n\nBenjamin sighed with relief.\n\n\n\nBut there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\na large","\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\nagain!\" sighed Benjamin.\n\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\nthe window-sill.\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn","caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\"\n\n\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\"\nBenjamin did so.\n\n\n\n\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncirc","what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\n\n\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the","ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\nsoon recovered.\n\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\n\n\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited","had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught\non a briar.\n\nBenjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole\ntrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was\ngetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy\nthe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\nhunting for dandelions.--\"Cousin Peter","in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\n\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\n\n\n\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut","\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\n","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he","not.\"\n\n\"Yes they are!\"\n\n\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\nquarry.\"\n\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\n\n\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\nhe won't miss them.\"\n\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\n\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and",".\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\"He\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\" whispered Peter.\n\n\n\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\n\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun","a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between the large stones under the house; the\nkitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it was\nmade of earth or flags.\n\n\n\nThey dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account of\nstones; but by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor.\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\ndown; he was outside the","anting on the hill pastures. Half way\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\n\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\nwhile she watched him.\n\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\""],["\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\nwine.\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\n\n\n\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed","\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\n","back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\nbetter of it, and took them away.\n\n\n\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person","off all the frogs while he was asleep in\nwinter--\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\non pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!\" said\nTommy Brock.\n\n\n\nIt was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy\nBrock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and","was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\npassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for\ndigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the\nscarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And\nthe otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in\nwinter--\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\n","y, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was",".\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\"He\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\" whispered Peter.\n\n\n\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\n\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun","ung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\nup on the chair.\n\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\nmoved,--except","balanced himself.\n\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\n\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up","le, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\n\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\n\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\ncreaked;","very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\n\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\ncreaked; he turned round with a jump. Tommy Brock, who had opened one\neye--shut it hastily. The snores continued.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod's proceedings were peculiar, and rather uneasy, (because the bed\nwas between the window and the door of the bedroom). He opened the\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\non to the window sill. The rest of the","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the",", digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\n\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that","window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\n\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod watched","caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\"\n\n\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\"\nBenjamin did so.\n\n\n\n\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncirc","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he","end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\n","water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\n\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\n\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n"],["\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\nagain!\" sighed Benjamin.\n\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\nthe window-sill.\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn","they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\nlistening and peeping.\n\n\n\n\n\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting","'s supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\n\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\n\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\n\n\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them","\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\n","and listening.\n\nIn half an hour the moon rose over the wood. It shone full and clear and\ncold, upon the house amongst the rocks, and in at the kitchen window.\nBut alas, no little rabbit babies were to be seen!\n\nThe moonbeams twinkled on the carving knife and the pie dish, and made a\npath of brightness across the dirty floor.\n\nThe light showed a little door in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to","the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThey climbed up and up;--\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\nout of the hole.\" \"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\"\n\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the","the kitchen floor.\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\ndown; he was outside the tunnel, shuffling sand away. He called out that\nit was morning--sunrise; and that the jays were making a noise down\nbelow in the woods.\n\nBenjamin Bunny came out of the dark tunnel, shaking the sand from his\nears; he cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shone\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\nmist","y, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was","the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\npassing.\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\nthe hill).\n\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to","what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\n\n\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes","anting on the hill pastures. Half way\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\n\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\nwhile she watched him.\n\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"","preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\na large carving knife and fork, and a chopper.\n\nAt the other end of the table was a partly unfolded tablecloth, a plate,\na tumbler, a knife and fork, salt-cellar, mustard and a chair--in short,\npreparations for one person's supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock","pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\nbushes, listening anxiously.\n\n\n\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\n\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\n\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\n\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\nand there were handfuls of Mr.","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","ck\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\nears, and slapped him.\n\n\n\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through",", Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\nhole.\n\n\n\n\n\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b","his paws. Every minute the sun shone\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\n\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\n\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod","was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy"],["a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between the large stones under the house; the\nkitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it was\nmade of earth or flags.\n\n\n\nThey dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account of\nstones; but by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor.\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\ndown; he was outside the","ring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod watched it for half an hour; his eyes glistened.\n\nThen he cut a caper, and became so bold that he even tapped at the\nwindow; but the bundle never moved.\n\nYes--there was no doubt about it--it had turned out even better than he\nhad planned; the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him\ndead!\n\n\"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he","was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\nold enough to crawl.\n\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between",", digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\n\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that","end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\n","window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\n\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod watched","Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he had\nrooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he had dug quite a deep hole\nfor dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the\nway. Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger's heavy steps\nshowed plainly in the mud.\n\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\nthere were leaf","\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\n\n\n\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\npail rolling over and over.\n\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket","be\nthoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a\nhot-water bottle.\"\n\n\n\n\"I will get soft soap, and monkey soap, and all sorts of soap; and soda\nand scrubbing brushes; and persian powder; and carbolic to remove the\nsmell. I must have a disinfecting. Perhaps I may have to burn sulphur.\"\n\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\"First I\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag","who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\n\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grunty and regular from Mr. Tod's bed.\nNothing could be seen of the young family.\n\nThe sun had set; an owl began to hoot in the wood. There were many\nunpleasant things lying about, that had much better have been buried;\nrabbit bones and skulls, and chickens' legs and other horrors. It was a\nshocking place, and very dark.\n\nThey went back to the","\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\n","the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him\ndead!\n\n\"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he has dug. I will\nbring my bedding out, and dry it in the sun,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\"I will wash the tablecloth and spread it on the grass in the sun to\nbleach. And the blanket must be hung up in the wind; and the bed must be\nthoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a\nhot-water bottle.\"\n","pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\nbushes, listening anxiously.\n\n\n\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\n\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\n\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\n\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\nand there were handfuls of Mr.","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","anting on the hill pastures. Half way\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\n\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\nwhile she watched him.\n\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"","in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\n\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n","his paws. Every minute the sun shone\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\n\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\n\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod","had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught\non a briar.\n\nBenjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole\ntrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was\ngetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy\nthe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\nhunting for dandelions.--\"Cousin Peter","badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\n\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out","went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits.\n\n\n\n\n\nWhen Mr. Tod got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain had\ndragged the knot so tight that it was past untying. He was obliged to\ngnaw it with his teeth. He chewed and gnawed for more than twenty\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards."],["water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling\nover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-bath,\nworked by a string, through the window.\n\n\n\nBut naturally being a thin-legged person (though vindictive and sandy\nwhiskered)--he was quite unable to lift the heavy weight to the level of\nthe hook and rope. He very nearly overbalanced himself.\n\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\nlegs twitched","window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\n\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod watched","ung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\nup on the chair.\n\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\nmoved,--except","and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\n\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\npuzzled.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with","water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\n\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\n\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n","the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\n\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits","balanced himself.\n\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\n\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up","\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\n\n\n\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\npail rolling over and over.\n\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket","ashed to atoms.\n\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\nand there were handfuls of Mr. Tod's sandy whiskers.\n\nThe vases fell off the mantelpiece, the canisters fell off the shelf;\nthe kettle fell off the hob. Tommy Brock put his foot in a jar of\nraspberry jam.\n\nAnd the boiling water out of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nWhen the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who","be\nthoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a\nhot-water bottle.\"\n\n\n\n\"I will get soft soap, and monkey soap, and all sorts of soap; and soda\nand scrubbing brushes; and persian powder; and carbolic to remove the\nsmell. I must have a disinfecting. Perhaps I may have to burn sulphur.\"\n\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\"First I\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag","ring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod watched it for half an hour; his eyes glistened.\n\nThen he cut a caper, and became so bold that he even tapped at the\nwindow; but the bundle never moved.\n\nYes--there was no doubt about it--it had turned out even better than he\nhad planned; the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him\ndead!\n\n\"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he","like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\nmoved,--except one eye.\n\n\n\n\n\nAt last Mr. Tod's preparations were complete. The pail was full of\nwater; the rope was tightly strained over the top of the bed, and across\nthe window sill to the tree outside.\n\n\"It will make a great mess in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nMr","Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he had\nrooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he had dug quite a deep hole\nfor dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the\nway. Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger's heavy steps\nshowed plainly in the mud.\n\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\nthere were leaf","went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits.\n\n\n\n\n\nWhen Mr. Tod got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain had\ndragged the knot so tight that it was past untying. He was obliged to\ngnaw it with his teeth. He chewed and gnawed for more than twenty\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.","the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a\nblanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon\nhim attentively; he really was a first prize sound sleeper!\n\nIt seemed as though nothing would waken him--not even the flapping rope\nacross the bed.\n\nMr. Tod descended safely from the chair, and endeavoured to get up again\nwith the pail of water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling\nover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-","\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n\n\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\"\n\n\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\nPlease tell me quick!\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he","caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\"\n\n\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\"\nBenjamin did so.\n\n\n\n\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncirc","the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him\ndead!\n\n\"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he has dug. I will\nbring my bedding out, and dry it in the sun,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\"I will wash the tablecloth and spread it on the grass in the sun to\nbleach. And the blanket must be hung up in the wind; and the bed must be\nthoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a\nhot-water bottle.\"\n","and listening.\n\nIn half an hour the moon rose over the wood. It shone full and clear and\ncold, upon the house amongst the rocks, and in at the kitchen window.\nBut alas, no little rabbit babies were to be seen!\n\nThe moonbeams twinkled on the carving knife and the pie dish, and made a\npath of brightness across the dirty floor.\n\nThe light showed a little door in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to",", a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the\nkitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the\nrabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.\n\nBenjamin sighed with relief.\n\n\n\nBut there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\na large"],["He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\ncautiously and went in.\n\n\n\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his","Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\nknife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that he\nhad left folded up in the dresser--all set out for supper (or\nbreakfast)--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\nlistening and peeping.\n\n\n\n\n\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting","\nshowed plainly in the mud.\n\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\nthere were leafy oak stumps, and a sea of blue hyacinths--but the smell\nthat made Benjamin stop, was _not_ the smell of flowers!\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod's stick house was before him and, for once, Mr. Tod was at home.\nThere was not only a foxey flavour in proof of it--there was smoke\ncoming out of the broken pail that served as a chimney.\n","in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\n\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\n","the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\n\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits","badger, which fortunately\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\n\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\n\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out","balanced himself.\n\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\n\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","le, Tommy Brock was lying\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\n\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\n\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\ncreaked;","end with rage.\n\n\n\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\n\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\n\n","ur.\"\n\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\"First I\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\nblanket....\"\n\nHe opened the door....\n\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed","). He opened the\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\nremained in his hand.\n\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\na minute; then he left the room again.\n\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the","oolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod's\nkitchen floor.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod was coming up Bull Banks, and he was in the very worst of\ntempers. First he had been upset by breaking the plate. It was his own\nfault; but it was a china plate, the last of the dinner service that had\nbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been\nvery bad. And he had","\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\n\n\n\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\npail rolling over and over.\n\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket","window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\n\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod watched","the dinner service that had\nbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been\nvery bad. And he had failed to catch a hen pheasant on her nest; and it\nhad contained only five eggs, two of them addled. Mr. Tod had had an\nunsatisfactory night.\n\n\n\nAs usual, when out of humour, he determined to move house. First he\ntried the pollard willow, but it was damp; and the otters had left a\ndead fish near it. Mr. Tod likes nobody's leav","upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\n\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up","water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\n\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\n\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n"],["was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\n\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy","\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\n","ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\nsoon recovered.\n\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\n\n\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited","y, who\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was","\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\nwine.\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\n\n\n\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed",", Cousin Peter?\"\n\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\nwood.\n\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\nhole.\n\n\n\n\n\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the","--old Mr.\nBouncer had forgotten them.\n\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\npassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for\ndigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the\nscarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And\nthe otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in\nwinter--\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\n","ck\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\nears, and slapped him.\n\n\n\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through",", digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\n\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that","they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\nlistening and peeping.\n\n\n\n\n\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting","not.\"\n\n\"Yes they are!\"\n\n\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\nquarry.\"\n\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\n\n\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\nhe won't miss them.\"\n\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\n\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and","the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\npassing.\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\nthe hill).\n\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to","pice, causing terror to\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\n\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\n\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\n\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without","off all the frogs while he was asleep in\nwinter--\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\non pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!\" said\nTommy Brock.\n\n\n\nIt was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy\nBrock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co",", who was\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to be seen. He seemed to\nhave put down the sack every dozen yards, to rest.\n\n\"He must be very puffed; we are close behind him, by the scent. What a\nnasty person!\" said Peter.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe sunshine was still warm and slanting on the hill pastures. Half way\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\n","the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThey climbed up and up;--\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\nout of the hole.\" \"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\"\n\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,","of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nWhen the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who was still grinning, happened to\nbe uppermost; and he rolled Mr. Tod over and over like a log, out at the\ndoor.\n\nThen the snarling and worrying went on outside; and they rolled over the\nbank, and down hill, bumping over the rocks. There will never be any\nlove lost between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\nAs soon as the coast was clear, Peter Rabbit and Benjamin"],["a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between the large stones under the house; the\nkitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it was\nmade of earth or flags.\n\n\n\nThey dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account of\nstones; but by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor.\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\ndown; he was outside the","was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\nold enough to crawl.\n\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\nmight be able to work between","the kitchen floor.\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\ndown; he was outside the tunnel, shuffling sand away. He called out that\nit was morning--sunrise; and that the jays were making a noise down\nbelow in the woods.\n\nBenjamin Bunny came out of the dark tunnel, shaking the sand from his\nears; he cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shone\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\nmist","and grinned. There\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\n\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\n\n\n\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the co","in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\n\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\n\n\n\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\n\nBut","Brock.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he had\nrooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he had dug quite a deep hole\nfor dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the\nway. Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger's heavy steps\nshowed plainly in the mud.\n\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\nthere were leaf","had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught\non a briar.\n\nBenjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole\ntrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was\ngetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy\nthe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\nhunting for dandelions.--\"Cousin Peter",", a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the\nkitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the\nrabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.\n\nBenjamin sighed with relief.\n\n\n\nBut there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\na large","caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\"\n\n\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\"\nBenjamin did so.\n\n\n\n\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncirc",".\n\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\"He\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\" whispered Peter.\n\n\n\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\n\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun","and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\n\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\npuzzled.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with","so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\n\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\ncabbage smoke....\n\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\n\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the",", digging\nthings up.\n\n\n\n\n\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\n\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that","his paws. Every minute the sun shone\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\n\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\n\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod","\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\nseen him?\"\n\n\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\"\n\n\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\nPlease tell me quick!\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\"\n\n\"Which way? which way has he","ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\nyears;\" said Peter reflectively, \"but there are two hopeful\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\"\n\"Which way?\" \"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he","oolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod's\nkitchen floor.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod was coming up Bull Banks, and he was in the very worst of\ntempers. First he had been upset by breaking the plate. It was his own\nfault; but it was a china plate, the last of the dinner service that had\nbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been\nvery bad. And he had","the sack, and seemed doubled up with\nlaughing.--\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\"\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\n\nThey climbed up and up;--\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\nout of the hole.\" \"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\"\n\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,","\nday passed heavily.\n\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\n\n\n\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\nway to the","not.\"\n\n\"Yes they are!\"\n\n\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\nquarry.\"\n\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\n\n\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\nhe won't miss them.\"\n\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\n\n\n\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\n\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and"],["\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr.\nTod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific battle all\nover the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floor\nwould give way at each crash of falling furniture.\n\nThey crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\nbushes, listening anxiously.\n\n\n\nInside the house the racket","ung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\nup on the chair.\n\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\nmoved,--except","be\nthoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a\nhot-water bottle.\"\n\n\n\n\"I will get soft soap, and monkey soap, and all sorts of soap; and soda\nand scrubbing brushes; and persian powder; and carbolic to remove the\nsmell. I must have a disinfecting. Perhaps I may have to burn sulphur.\"\n\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\"First I\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag","and listening.\n\nIn half an hour the moon rose over the wood. It shone full and clear and\ncold, upon the house amongst the rocks, and in at the kitchen window.\nBut alas, no little rabbit babies were to be seen!\n\nThe moonbeams twinkled on the carving knife and the pie dish, and made a\npath of brightness across the dirty floor.\n\nThe light showed a little door in a wall beside the kitchen\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\nold-fashioned sort that used to","\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\n\n\n\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\npail rolling over and over.\n\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket","\n\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\nwine.\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\n\n\n\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed","water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling\nover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-bath,\nworked by a string, through the window.\n\n\n\nBut naturally being a thin-legged person (though vindictive and sandy\nwhiskered)--he was quite unable to lift the heavy weight to the level of\nthe hook and rope. He very nearly overbalanced himself.\n\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\nlegs twitched","ashed to atoms.\n\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\nand there were handfuls of Mr. Tod's sandy whiskers.\n\nThe vases fell off the mantelpiece, the canisters fell off the shelf;\nthe kettle fell off the hob. Tommy Brock put his foot in a jar of\nraspberry jam.\n\nAnd the boiling water out of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nWhen the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who","window. The water was dripping\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\n\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\n\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\n\n\n\nMr. Tod watched","went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits.\n\n\n\n\n\nWhen Mr. Tod got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain had\ndragged the knot so tight that it was past untying. He was obliged to\ngnaw it with his teeth. He chewed and gnawed for more than twenty\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.","and\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\nBrock's work.\n\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\n\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\npuzzled.\n\n\n\n\n\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with","water from the spring, and\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\n\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\n\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\n\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\n","ur.\"\n\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\"First I\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\nblanket....\"\n\nHe opened the door....\n\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\n\n\n\n\n\nThen Mr. Tod rushed","pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\nbushes, listening anxiously.\n\n\n\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\n\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\n\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\n\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\nand there were handfuls of Mr.","the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\n\n\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\" said Mr. Tod.\n\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\n\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits","preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\na large carving knife and fork, and a chopper.\n\nAt the other end of the table was a partly unfolded tablecloth, a plate,\na tumbler, a knife and fork, salt-cellar, mustard and a chair--in short,\npreparations for one person's supper.\n\n\n\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\nand silent; the clock",", a prison, and a tumbledown\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\n\nThe setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the\nkitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the\nrabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.\n\nBenjamin sighed with relief.\n\n\n\nBut there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\na large","\nam going to make a story about two disagreeable people, called Tommy\nBrock and Mr. Tod.\n\nNobody could call Mr. Tod \"nice.\" The rabbits could not bear him; they\ncould smell him half a mile off. He was of a wandering habit and he had\nfoxey whiskers; they never knew where he would be next.\n\n\n\nOne day he was living in a stick-house in the coppice, causing terror to\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\nwillow near the lake","He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\ncautiously and went in.\n\n\n\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his","balanced himself.\n\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\n\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\n\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\",\n \"\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \\\"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\\nwine.\\\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\\n\\n\\n\\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed\",\n \"--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\\npassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for\\ndigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the\\nscarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And\\nthe otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in\\nwinter--\\\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\\n\",\n \"ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\\nsoon recovered.\\n\\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\\n\\n\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\n\",\n \"y, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \"off all the frogs while he was asleep in\\nwinter--\\\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\\non pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!\\\" said\\nTommy Brock.\\n\\n\\n\\nIt was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy\\nBrock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\",\n \"caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\\\"\\nBenjamin did so.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncirc\",\n \", Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\\nhole.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b\",\n \"Old Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited long enough to be\\nable to tell the end of the battle between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.\\n\\nTHE END\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tale of Mr. Tod, by Beatrix Potter\\n\\n\",\n \"\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\\nPlease tell me quick!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he\",\n \"pice, causing terror to\\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\\n\\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\\n\\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without\",\n \"ck\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\\nears, and slapped him.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through\",\n \"the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\\npassing.\\\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\\nthe hill).\\n\\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to\",\n \", digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\\n\\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that\",\n \"anting on the hill pastures. Half way\\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\\n\\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\\nwhile she watched him.\\n\\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\",\n \"in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\\n\\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\\nPlease tell me quick!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \"caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\\\"\\nBenjamin did so.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncirc\",\n \"the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\\nhunting for dandelions.--\\\"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!\\\"\\nshouted Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThe blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears--\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat\\nFerret?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\",\n \".\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\\\"He\\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\\\" whispered Peter.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\\n\\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun\",\n \"\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\\nagain!\\\" sighed Benjamin.\\n\\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\\nthe window-sill.\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn\",\n \"'s supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\\n\\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\",\n \"the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\\n\\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits\",\n \"and listening.\\n\\nIn half an hour the moon rose over the wood. It shone full and clear and\\ncold, upon the house amongst the rocks, and in at the kitchen window.\\nBut alas, no little rabbit babies were to be seen!\\n\\nThe moonbeams twinkled on the carving knife and the pie dish, and made a\\npath of brightness across the dirty floor.\\n\\nThe light showed a little door in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to\",\n \"window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\\n\\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod watched\",\n \"y, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\",\n \"He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\\ncautiously and went in.\\n\\n\\n\\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\",\n \"ck\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\\nears, and slapped him.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through\",\n \"the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThey climbed up and up;--\\\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\\nout of the hole.\\\" \\\"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\\\"\\n\\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,\",\n \"and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\\n\\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\\npuzzled.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \", a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the\\nkitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the\\nrabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.\\n\\nBenjamin sighed with relief.\\n\\n\\n\\nBut there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\\na large\",\n \"\\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\\npail rolling over and over.\\n\\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket\",\n \"in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\\n\\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut\"\n ],\n [\n \"the kitchen floor.\\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\\ndown; he was outside the tunnel, shuffling sand away. He called out that\\nit was morning--sunrise; and that the jays were making a noise down\\nbelow in the woods.\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny came out of the dark tunnel, shaking the sand from his\\nears; he cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shone\\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\\nmist\",\n \"had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught\\non a briar.\\n\\nBenjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole\\ntrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was\\ngetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy\\nthe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\\nhunting for dandelions.--\\\"Cousin Peter\",\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\",\n \"'s supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\\n\\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\",\n \"what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\\n\\n\\\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes\",\n \", Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\\nhole.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\\nagain!\\\" sighed Benjamin.\\n\\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\\nthe window-sill.\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn\",\n \"ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\\nsoon recovered.\\n\\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\\n\\n\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited\",\n \"the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThey climbed up and up;--\\\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\\nout of the hole.\\\" \\\"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\\\"\\n\\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,\",\n \"ck\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\\nears, and slapped him.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through\",\n \"the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\\nhunting for dandelions.--\\\"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!\\\"\\nshouted Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThe blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears--\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat\\nFerret?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \"y, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\",\n \"caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\\\"\\nBenjamin did so.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncirc\",\n \"was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\\nold enough to crawl.\\n\\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between\",\n \"a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between the large stones under the house; the\\nkitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it was\\nmade of earth or flags.\\n\\n\\n\\nThey dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account of\\nstones; but by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor.\\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\\ndown; he was outside the\",\n \"not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes they are!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\\nquarry.\\\"\\n\\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\\n\\n\\\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\\nhe won't miss them.\\\"\\n\\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\\n\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and\",\n \"in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\\n\\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut\"\n ],\n [\n \"at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without asking leave).\\n\\nTommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; he\\ngrinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp\\nnests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight, digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\n\",\n \"upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\\n\\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up\",\n \"pice, causing terror to\\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\\n\\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\\n\\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without\",\n \"the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\\npassing.\\\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\\nthe hill).\\n\\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to\",\n \".\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\\\"He\\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\\\" whispered Peter.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\\n\\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun\",\n \"le, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\\n\\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\\n\\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\\ncreaked;\",\n \"back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\\nbetter of it, and took them away.\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person\",\n \"ur.\\\"\\n\\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\\\"First I\\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\\nblanket....\\\"\\n\\nHe opened the door....\\n\\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\\n\\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\\npuzzled.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with\",\n \". Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe reached up and put the end of rope, with the hook, over the head of\\nthe tester bed, where the curtains ought to hang.\\n\\n(Mr. Tod's curtains were folded up, and put away, owing to the house\\nbeing unoccupied. So was the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a\\nblanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon\\nhim\",\n \"). He opened the\\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\\nremained in his hand.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\\na minute; then he left the room again.\\n\\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the\",\n \"pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\\nbushes, listening anxiously.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\\n\\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\\n\\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\\n\\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\\nand there were handfuls of Mr.\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \"\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \\\"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\\nwine.\\\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\\n\\n\\n\\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed\",\n \"end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\n\",\n \"water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\\n\\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\\n\\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\",\n \"He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\\ncautiously and went in.\\n\\n\\n\\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\",\n \"\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\\nPlease tell me quick!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he\"\n ],\n [\n \"pice, causing terror to\\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\\n\\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\\n\\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without\",\n \"at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without asking leave).\\n\\nTommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; he\\ngrinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp\\nnests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight, digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\n\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\",\n \"the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\\npassing.\\\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\\nthe hill).\\n\\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to\",\n \", digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\\n\\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that\",\n \"back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\\nbetter of it, and took them away.\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person\",\n \"\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \\\"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\\nwine.\\\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\\n\\n\\n\\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed\",\n \".\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\\\"He\\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\\\" whispered Peter.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\\n\\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun\",\n \"anting on the hill pastures. Half way\\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\\n\\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\\nwhile she watched him.\\n\\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\",\n \"upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\\n\\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up\",\n \"\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\\nPlease tell me quick!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he\",\n \"off all the frogs while he was asleep in\\nwinter--\\\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\\non pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!\\\" said\\nTommy Brock.\\n\\n\\n\\nIt was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy\\nBrock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and\",\n \"water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling\\nover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-bath,\\nworked by a string, through the window.\\n\\n\\n\\nBut naturally being a thin-legged person (though vindictive and sandy\\nwhiskered)--he was quite unable to lift the heavy weight to the level of\\nthe hook and rope. He very nearly overbalanced himself.\\n\\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\\nlegs twitched\",\n \"and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\\n\\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\\npuzzled.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with\",\n \"very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\\n\\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\\ncreaked; he turned round with a jump. Tommy Brock, who had opened one\\neye--shut it hastily. The snores continued.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod's proceedings were peculiar, and rather uneasy, (because the bed\\nwas between the window and the door of the bedroom). He opened the\\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\\non to the window sill. The rest of the\",\n \"le, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\\n\\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\\n\\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\\ncreaked;\",\n \"ung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\\nup on the chair.\\n\\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\\nmoved,--except\",\n \"water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\\n\\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\\n\\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\",\n \"). He opened the\\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\\nremained in his hand.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\\na minute; then he left the room again.\\n\\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the\",\n \"--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\\npassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for\\ndigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the\\nscarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And\\nthe otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in\\nwinter--\\\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\\nlistening and peeping.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\\ncautiously and went in.\\n\\n\\n\\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\",\n \"Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\\nknife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that he\\nhad left folded up in the dresser--all set out for supper (or\\nbreakfast)--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep\",\n \"oolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod's\\nkitchen floor.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod was coming up Bull Banks, and he was in the very worst of\\ntempers. First he had been upset by breaking the plate. It was his own\\nfault; but it was a china plate, the last of the dinner service that had\\nbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been\\nvery bad. And he had\",\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\",\n \"what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\\n\\n\\\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes\",\n \"in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\\n\\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\",\n \"his paws. Every minute the sun shone\\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\\n\\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\\n\\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod\",\n \"pice, causing terror to\\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\\n\\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\\n\\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without\",\n \"badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\\n\\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out\",\n \"the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\\npassing.\\\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\\nthe hill).\\n\\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to\",\n \"in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\\n\\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut\",\n \"not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes they are!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\\nquarry.\\\"\\n\\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\\n\\n\\\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\\nhe won't miss them.\\\"\\n\\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\\n\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\n\",\n \"at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without asking leave).\\n\\nTommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; he\\ngrinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp\\nnests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight, digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\n\",\n \"who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\\n\\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grunty and regular from Mr. Tod's bed.\\nNothing could be seen of the young family.\\n\\nThe sun had set; an owl began to hoot in the wood. There were many\\nunpleasant things lying about, that had much better have been buried;\\nrabbit bones and skulls, and chickens' legs and other horrors. It was a\\nshocking place, and very dark.\\n\\nThey went back to the\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\",\n \"the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\\n\\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits\"\n ],\n [\n \"they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\\nlistening and peeping.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting\",\n \"He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\\ncautiously and went in.\\n\\n\\n\\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\",\n \"Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\\nknife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that he\\nhad left folded up in the dresser--all set out for supper (or\\nbreakfast)--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \", digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\\n\\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that\",\n \"badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\\n\\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out\",\n \"his paws. Every minute the sun shone\\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\\n\\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\\n\\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod\",\n \"). He opened the\\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\\nremained in his hand.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\\na minute; then he left the room again.\\n\\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the\",\n \"pice, causing terror to\\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\\n\\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\\n\\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without\",\n \"605 8\\n\\n12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (C)\\n\\nFOR\\nFRANCIS WILLIAM OF ULVA\\n----SOMEDAY!\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nTHE TALE OF MR. TOD\\n\\n\\nI have made many books about well-behaved people. Now, for a change, I\\nam going to make a story about two disagreeable people, called Tommy\\nBrock and Mr. Tod.\\n\\nNobody could call Mr.\",\n \"pollard willow, but it was damp; and the otters had left a\\ndead fish near it. Mr. Tod likes nobody's leavings but his own.\\n\\nHe made his way up the hill; his temper was not improved by noticing\\nunmistakable marks of badger. No one else grubs up the moss so wantonly\\nas Tommy Brock.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod slapped his stick upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\\nfollow\",\n \"the dinner service that had\\nbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been\\nvery bad. And he had failed to catch a hen pheasant on her nest; and it\\nhad contained only five eggs, two of them addled. Mr. Tod had had an\\nunsatisfactory night.\\n\\n\\n\\nAs usual, when out of humour, he determined to move house. First he\\ntried the pollard willow, but it was damp; and the otters had left a\\ndead fish near it. Mr. Tod likes nobody's leav\",\n \"oolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod's\\nkitchen floor.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod was coming up Bull Banks, and he was in the very worst of\\ntempers. First he had been upset by breaking the plate. It was his own\\nfault; but it was a china plate, the last of the dinner service that had\\nbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been\\nvery bad. And he had\",\n \"end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\n\",\n \"balanced himself.\\n\\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\\n\\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up\",\n \"water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\\n\\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\\n\\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\",\n \"\\nam going to make a story about two disagreeable people, called Tommy\\nBrock and Mr. Tod.\\n\\nNobody could call Mr. Tod \\\"nice.\\\" The rabbits could not bear him; they\\ncould smell him half a mile off. He was of a wandering habit and he had\\nfoxey whiskers; they never knew where he would be next.\\n\\n\\n\\nOne day he was living in a stick-house in the coppice, causing terror to\\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\\nwillow near the lake\",\n \"ur.\\\"\\n\\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\\\"First I\\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\\nblanket....\\\"\\n\\nHe opened the door....\\n\\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed\",\n \"le, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\\n\\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\\n\\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\\ncreaked;\",\n \"upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\\n\\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up\"\n ],\n [\n \"le, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\\n\\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\\n\\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\\ncreaked;\",\n \"balanced himself.\\n\\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\\n\\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up\",\n \"in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\\n\\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\",\n \"). He opened the\\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\\nremained in his hand.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\\na minute; then he left the room again.\\n\\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the\",\n \", digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\\n\\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that\",\n \"end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\n\",\n \"water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\\n\\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\\n\\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\",\n \"like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\\nmoved,--except one eye.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nAt last Mr. Tod's preparations were complete. The pail was full of\\nwater; the rope was tightly strained over the top of the bed, and across\\nthe window sill to the tree outside.\\n\\n\\\"It will make a great mess in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr\",\n \"back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\\nbetter of it, and took them away.\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person\",\n \"ung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\\nup on the chair.\\n\\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\\nmoved,--except\",\n \"was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\\nold enough to crawl.\\n\\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between\",\n \"and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\\n\\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\\npuzzled.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\\n\\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits\",\n \". Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe reached up and put the end of rope, with the hook, over the head of\\nthe tester bed, where the curtains ought to hang.\\n\\n(Mr. Tod's curtains were folded up, and put away, owing to the house\\nbeing unoccupied. So was the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a\\nblanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon\\nhim\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\",\n \".\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\\\"He\\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\\\" whispered Peter.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\\n\\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun\",\n \"the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a\\nblanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon\\nhim attentively; he really was a first prize sound sleeper!\\n\\nIt seemed as though nothing would waken him--not even the flapping rope\\nacross the bed.\\n\\nMr. Tod descended safely from the chair, and endeavoured to get up again\\nwith the pail of water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling\\nover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-\",\n \"ur.\\\"\\n\\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\\\"First I\\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\\nblanket....\\\"\\n\\nHe opened the door....\\n\\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed\",\n \"badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\\n\\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out\"\n ],\n [\n \", Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\\nhole.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b\",\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\",\n \"ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\\nsoon recovered.\\n\\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\\n\\n\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\\n\\n\\\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes\",\n \"y, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\",\n \"'s supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\\n\\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\",\n \"was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\\nold enough to crawl.\\n\\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThey climbed up and up;--\\\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\\nout of the hole.\\\" \\\"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\\\"\\n\\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \"\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\\nagain!\\\" sighed Benjamin.\\n\\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\\nthe window-sill.\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn\",\n \"they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\\nlistening and peeping.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting\",\n \"ck\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\\nears, and slapped him.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\n\",\n \"pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\\nbushes, listening anxiously.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\\n\\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\\n\\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\\n\\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\\nand there were handfuls of Mr.\",\n \", who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to be seen. He seemed to\\nhave put down the sack every dozen yards, to rest.\\n\\n\\\"He must be very puffed; we are close behind him, by the scent. What a\\nnasty person!\\\" said Peter.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe sunshine was still warm and slanting on the hill pastures. Half way\\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\\n\",\n \"the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\\npassing.\\\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\\nthe hill).\\n\\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to\",\n \"his paws. Every minute the sun shone\\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\\n\\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\\n\\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod\",\n \"the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\\nhunting for dandelions.--\\\"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!\\\"\\nshouted Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThe blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears--\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat\\nFerret?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\\nPlease tell me quick!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he\",\n \", digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\\n\\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that\",\n \"water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling\\nover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-bath,\\nworked by a string, through the window.\\n\\n\\n\\nBut naturally being a thin-legged person (though vindictive and sandy\\nwhiskered)--he was quite unable to lift the heavy weight to the level of\\nthe hook and rope. He very nearly overbalanced himself.\\n\\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\\nlegs twitched\",\n \"anting on the hill pastures. Half way\\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\\n\\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\\nwhile she watched him.\\n\\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\",\n \"off all the frogs while he was asleep in\\nwinter--\\\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\\non pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!\\\" said\\nTommy Brock.\\n\\n\\n\\nIt was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy\\nBrock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and\",\n \"le, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\\n\\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\\n\\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\\ncreaked;\",\n \"ur.\\\"\\n\\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\\\"First I\\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\\nblanket....\\\"\\n\\nHe opened the door....\\n\\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed\",\n \"at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without asking leave).\\n\\nTommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; he\\ngrinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp\\nnests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight, digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\n\",\n \"). He opened the\\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\\nremained in his hand.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\\na minute; then he left the room again.\\n\\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the\",\n \"Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he had\\nrooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he had dug quite a deep hole\\nfor dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the\\nway. Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger's heavy steps\\nshowed plainly in the mud.\\n\\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\\nthere were leaf\",\n \"ung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\\nup on the chair.\\n\\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\\nmoved,--except\",\n \"upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\\n\\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up\",\n \". Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe reached up and put the end of rope, with the hook, over the head of\\nthe tester bed, where the curtains ought to hang.\\n\\n(Mr. Tod's curtains were folded up, and put away, owing to the house\\nbeing unoccupied. So was the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a\\nblanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon\\nhim\",\n \"pice, causing terror to\\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\\n\\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\\n\\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without\",\n \"\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \\\"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\\nwine.\\\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\\n\\n\\n\\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed\",\n \"and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\\n\\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\\npuzzled.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with\",\n \"back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\\nbetter of it, and took them away.\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\",\n \"the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\\npassing.\\\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\\nthe hill).\\n\\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\"\n ],\n [\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\",\n \", Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\\nhole.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes they are!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\\nquarry.\\\"\\n\\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\\n\\n\\\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\\nhe won't miss them.\\\"\\n\\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\\n\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and\",\n \"the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThey climbed up and up;--\\\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\\nout of the hole.\\\" \\\"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\\\"\\n\\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,\",\n \"'s supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\\n\\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\",\n \"the kitchen floor.\\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\\ndown; he was outside the tunnel, shuffling sand away. He called out that\\nit was morning--sunrise; and that the jays were making a noise down\\nbelow in the woods.\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny came out of the dark tunnel, shaking the sand from his\\nears; he cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shone\\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\\nmist\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\n\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\\nsoon recovered.\\n\\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\\n\\n\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited\",\n \"y, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\",\n \"ck\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\\nears, and slapped him.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through\",\n \"what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\\n\\n\\\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes\",\n \"had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught\\non a briar.\\n\\nBenjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole\\ntrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was\\ngetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy\\nthe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\\nhunting for dandelions.--\\\"Cousin Peter\",\n \"the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\\nhunting for dandelions.--\\\"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!\\\"\\nshouted Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThe blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears--\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat\\nFerret?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\",\n \"the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\\npassing.\\\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\\nthe hill).\\n\\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \"was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\\nold enough to crawl.\\n\\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between\",\n \"\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\\nagain!\\\" sighed Benjamin.\\n\\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\\nthe window-sill.\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn\",\n \"\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \\\"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\\nwine.\\\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\\n\\n\\n\\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \\\"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\\nwine.\\\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\\n\\n\\n\\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\",\n \"ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\\nsoon recovered.\\n\\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\\n\\n\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\n\",\n \"pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\\nbushes, listening anxiously.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\\n\\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\\n\\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\\n\\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\\nand there were handfuls of Mr.\",\n \"y, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\",\n \"anting on the hill pastures. Half way\\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\\n\\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\\nwhile she watched him.\\n\\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\",\n \"--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\\npassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for\\ndigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the\\nscarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And\\nthe otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in\\nwinter--\\\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\\n\",\n \"off all the frogs while he was asleep in\\nwinter--\\\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\\non pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!\\\" said\\nTommy Brock.\\n\\n\\n\\nIt was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy\\nBrock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and\",\n \"ck\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\\nears, and slapped him.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr.\\nTod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific battle all\\nover the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floor\\nwould give way at each crash of falling furniture.\\n\\nThey crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\\nbushes, listening anxiously.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house the racket\",\n \"badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\\n\\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out\",\n \"the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\\npassing.\\\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\\nthe hill).\\n\\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to\",\n \"went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen Mr. Tod got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain had\\ndragged the knot so tight that it was past untying. He was obliged to\\ngnaw it with his teeth. He chewed and gnawed for more than twenty\\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\",\n \"not only a foxey flavour in proof of it--there was smoke\\ncoming out of the broken pail that served as a chimney.\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny sat up, staring; his whiskers twitched. Inside the stick\\nhouse somebody dropped a plate, and said something. Benjamin stamped his\\nfoot, and bolted.\\n\\nHe never stopped till he came to the other side of the wood. Apparently\\nTommy Brock had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack\",\n \", digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\\n\\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that\",\n \", Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\\nhole.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b\"\n ],\n [\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\n\",\n \"y, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"ck\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\\nears, and slapped him.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through\",\n \", Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\\nhole.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b\",\n \"ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\\nsoon recovered.\\n\\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\\n\\n\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited\",\n \"--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\\npassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for\\ndigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the\\nscarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And\\nthe otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in\\nwinter--\\\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\\n\",\n \"\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \\\"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\\nwine.\\\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\\n\\n\\n\\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThey climbed up and up;--\\\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\\nout of the hole.\\\" \\\"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\\\"\\n\\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,\",\n \"the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\\npassing.\\\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\\nthe hill).\\n\\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to\",\n \"pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\\nbushes, listening anxiously.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\\n\\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\\n\\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\\n\\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\\nand there were handfuls of Mr.\",\n \"what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\\n\\n\\\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes\",\n \"'s supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\\n\\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\",\n \"\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\\nagain!\\\" sighed Benjamin.\\n\\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\\nthe window-sill.\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn\",\n \"they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\\nlistening and peeping.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting\",\n \"\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr.\\nTod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific battle all\\nover the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floor\\nwould give way at each crash of falling furniture.\\n\\nThey crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\\nbushes, listening anxiously.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house the racket\",\n \"caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\\\"\\nBenjamin did so.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncirc\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\\nPlease tell me quick!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he\",\n \"had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught\\non a briar.\\n\\nBenjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole\\ntrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was\\ngetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy\\nthe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\\nhunting for dandelions.--\\\"Cousin Peter\",\n \"caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\\\"\\nBenjamin did so.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncirc\",\n \"the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\\nhunting for dandelions.--\\\"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!\\\"\\nshouted Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThe blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears--\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat\\nFerret?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\",\n \", Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\\nhole.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b\",\n \"not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes they are!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\\nquarry.\\\"\\n\\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\\n\\n\\\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\\nhe won't miss them.\\\"\\n\\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\\n\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\",\n \"Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he had\\nrooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he had dug quite a deep hole\\nfor dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the\\nway. Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger's heavy steps\\nshowed plainly in the mud.\\n\\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\\nthere were leaf\",\n \"the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThey climbed up and up;--\\\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\\nout of the hole.\\\" \\\"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\\\"\\n\\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,\",\n \"in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\\n\\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut\",\n \", a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the\\nkitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the\\nrabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.\\n\\nBenjamin sighed with relief.\\n\\n\\n\\nBut there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\\na large\",\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\",\n \"what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\\n\\n\\\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes\",\n \"a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between the large stones under the house; the\\nkitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it was\\nmade of earth or flags.\\n\\n\\n\\nThey dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account of\\nstones; but by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor.\\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\\ndown; he was outside the\",\n \"ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\\nsoon recovered.\\n\\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\\n\\n\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \"the kitchen floor.\\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\\ndown; he was outside the tunnel, shuffling sand away. He called out that\\nit was morning--sunrise; and that the jays were making a noise down\\nbelow in the woods.\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny came out of the dark tunnel, shaking the sand from his\\nears; he cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shone\\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\\nmist\",\n \"'s supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\\n\\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\",\n \"\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\\nagain!\\\" sighed Benjamin.\\n\\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\\nthe window-sill.\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn\",\n \"never be any\\nlove lost between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nAs soon as the coast was clear, Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny came out\\nof the bushes--\\n\\n\\\"Now for it! Run in, Cousin Benjamin! Run in and get them! while I watch\\nat the door.\\\"\\n\\nBut Benjamin was frightened--\\n\\n\\\"Oh; oh! they are coming back!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No they are not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes they are!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\\nquarry.\\\"\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\\n\\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \".\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\\\"He\\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\\\" whispered Peter.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\\n\\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\",\n \"\\nshowed plainly in the mud.\\n\\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\\nthere were leafy oak stumps, and a sea of blue hyacinths--but the smell\\nthat made Benjamin stop, was _not_ the smell of flowers!\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod's stick house was before him and, for once, Mr. Tod was at home.\\nThere was not only a foxey flavour in proof of it--there was smoke\\ncoming out of the broken pail that served as a chimney.\\n\",\n \"what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\\n\\n\\\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes\",\n \"He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\\ncautiously and went in.\\n\\n\\n\\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\",\n \"they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\\nlistening and peeping.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting\",\n \"not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes they are!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\\nquarry.\\\"\\n\\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\\n\\n\\\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\\nhe won't miss them.\\\"\\n\\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\\n\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\\n\\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\\npuzzled.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with\",\n \"Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\\nknife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that he\\nhad left folded up in the dresser--all set out for supper (or\\nbreakfast)--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep\",\n \"pice, causing terror to\\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\\n\\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\\n\\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without\",\n \"who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\\n\\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grunty and regular from Mr. Tod's bed.\\nNothing could be seen of the young family.\\n\\nThe sun had set; an owl began to hoot in the wood. There were many\\nunpleasant things lying about, that had much better have been buried;\\nrabbit bones and skulls, and chickens' legs and other horrors. It was a\\nshocking place, and very dark.\\n\\nThey went back to the\",\n \"'s supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\\n\\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\",\n \"was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\\nold enough to crawl.\\n\\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between\",\n \"in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\\n\\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\",\n \"ur.\\\"\\n\\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\\\"First I\\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\\nblanket....\\\"\\n\\nHe opened the door....\\n\\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed\",\n \"of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who was still grinning, happened to\\nbe uppermost; and he rolled Mr. Tod over and over like a log, out at the\\ndoor.\\n\\nThen the snarling and worrying went on outside; and they rolled over the\\nbank, and down hill, bumping over the rocks. There will never be any\\nlove lost between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nAs soon as the coast was clear, Peter Rabbit and Benjamin\",\n \"badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\\n\\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out\"\n ],\n [\n \"le, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\\n\\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\\n\\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\\ncreaked;\",\n \"end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\n\",\n \"). He opened the\\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\\nremained in his hand.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\\na minute; then he left the room again.\\n\\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the\",\n \"upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\\n\\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up\",\n \"balanced himself.\\n\\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\\n\\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up\",\n \"ur.\\\"\\n\\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\\\"First I\\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\\nblanket....\\\"\\n\\nHe opened the door....\\n\\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed\",\n \"in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\\n\\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\",\n \"and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\\n\\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\\npuzzled.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\\nmoved,--except one eye.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nAt last Mr. Tod's preparations were complete. The pail was full of\\nwater; the rope was tightly strained over the top of the bed, and across\\nthe window sill to the tree outside.\\n\\n\\\"It will make a great mess in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr\",\n \"water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\\n\\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\\n\\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\",\n \"at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without asking leave).\\n\\nTommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; he\\ngrinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp\\nnests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight, digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\n\",\n \". Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe reached up and put the end of rope, with the hook, over the head of\\nthe tester bed, where the curtains ought to hang.\\n\\n(Mr. Tod's curtains were folded up, and put away, owing to the house\\nbeing unoccupied. So was the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a\\nblanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon\\nhim\",\n \"was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\\nold enough to crawl.\\n\\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between\",\n \"\\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\\npail rolling over and over.\\n\\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket\",\n \"back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\\nbetter of it, and took them away.\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person\",\n \", digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\\n\\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that\",\n \"the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him\\ndead!\\n\\n\\\"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he has dug. I will\\nbring my bedding out, and dry it in the sun,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\\"I will wash the tablecloth and spread it on the grass in the sun to\\nbleach. And the blanket must be hung up in the wind; and the bed must be\\nthoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a\\nhot-water bottle.\\\"\\n\",\n \"ung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\\nup on the chair.\\n\\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\\nmoved,--except\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\"\n ],\n [\n \"Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\\nknife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that he\\nhad left folded up in the dresser--all set out for supper (or\\nbreakfast)--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep\",\n \"He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\\ncautiously and went in.\\n\\n\\n\\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\",\n \"\\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\\npail rolling over and over.\\n\\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket\",\n \"window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\\n\\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod watched\",\n \"le, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\\n\\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\\n\\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\\ncreaked;\",\n \"water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\\n\\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\\n\\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\",\n \"badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\\n\\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out\",\n \"in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\\n\\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut\",\n \"end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\n\",\n \"in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\\n\\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\",\n \"ur.\\\"\\n\\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\\\"First I\\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\\nblanket....\\\"\\n\\nHe opened the door....\\n\\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed\",\n \"back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\\nbetter of it, and took them away.\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person\",\n \"went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen Mr. Tod got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain had\\ndragged the knot so tight that it was past untying. He was obliged to\\ngnaw it with his teeth. He chewed and gnawed for more than twenty\\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\\n\\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up\",\n \"the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\\n\\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits\",\n \"preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\\na large carving knife and fork, and a chopper.\\n\\nAt the other end of the table was a partly unfolded tablecloth, a plate,\\na tumbler, a knife and fork, salt-cellar, mustard and a chair--in short,\\npreparations for one person's supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock\",\n \"\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr.\\nTod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific battle all\\nover the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floor\\nwould give way at each crash of falling furniture.\\n\\nThey crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\\nbushes, listening anxiously.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house the racket\",\n \"balanced himself.\\n\\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\\n\\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up\",\n \"and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\\n\\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\\npuzzled.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with\"\n ],\n [\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr.\\nTod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific battle all\\nover the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floor\\nwould give way at each crash of falling furniture.\\n\\nThey crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\\nbushes, listening anxiously.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house the racket\",\n \"his paws. Every minute the sun shone\\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\\n\\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\\n\\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod\",\n \"of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who was still grinning, happened to\\nbe uppermost; and he rolled Mr. Tod over and over like a log, out at the\\ndoor.\\n\\nThen the snarling and worrying went on outside; and they rolled over the\\nbank, and down hill, bumping over the rocks. There will never be any\\nlove lost between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nAs soon as the coast was clear, Peter Rabbit and Benjamin\",\n \"they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\\nlistening and peeping.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting\",\n \"what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\\n\\n\\\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes\",\n \"'s supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\\n\\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\",\n \"in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\\n\\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\",\n \", Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\\nhole.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b\",\n \"who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\\n\\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grunty and regular from Mr. Tod's bed.\\nNothing could be seen of the young family.\\n\\nThe sun had set; an owl began to hoot in the wood. There were many\\nunpleasant things lying about, that had much better have been buried;\\nrabbit bones and skulls, and chickens' legs and other horrors. It was a\\nshocking place, and very dark.\\n\\nThey went back to the\",\n \"badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\\n\\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out\",\n \"\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\\nagain!\\\" sighed Benjamin.\\n\\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\\nthe window-sill.\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn\",\n \"end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\n\",\n \"was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\\nold enough to crawl.\\n\\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes they are!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\\nquarry.\\\"\\n\\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\\n\\n\\\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\\nhe won't miss them.\\\"\\n\\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\\n\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and\",\n \"He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\\ncautiously and went in.\\n\\n\\n\\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\",\n \"the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\\npassing.\\\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\\nthe hill).\\n\\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to\",\n \", digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\\n\\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that\",\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\\nPlease tell me quick!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he\",\n \"y, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\",\n \"'s supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\\n\\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\",\n \"the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\\nhunting for dandelions.--\\\"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!\\\"\\nshouted Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThe blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears--\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat\\nFerret?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\",\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\",\n \", a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the\\nkitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the\\nrabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.\\n\\nBenjamin sighed with relief.\\n\\n\\n\\nBut there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\\na large\",\n \"\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\\nagain!\\\" sighed Benjamin.\\n\\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\\nthe window-sill.\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn\",\n \"caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\\\"\\nBenjamin did so.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncirc\",\n \"what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\\n\\n\\\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \"ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\\nsoon recovered.\\n\\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\\n\\n\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited\",\n \"had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught\\non a briar.\\n\\nBenjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole\\ntrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was\\ngetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy\\nthe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\\nhunting for dandelions.--\\\"Cousin Peter\",\n \"in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\\n\\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\n\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\",\n \"not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes they are!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\\nquarry.\\\"\\n\\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\\n\\n\\\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\\nhe won't miss them.\\\"\\n\\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\\n\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and\",\n \".\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\\\"He\\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\\\" whispered Peter.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\\n\\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun\",\n \"a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between the large stones under the house; the\\nkitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it was\\nmade of earth or flags.\\n\\n\\n\\nThey dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account of\\nstones; but by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor.\\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\\ndown; he was outside the\",\n \"anting on the hill pastures. Half way\\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\\n\\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\\nwhile she watched him.\\n\\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \\\"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\\nwine.\\\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\\n\\n\\n\\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\n\",\n \"back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\nMr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his\\nwalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought\\nbetter of it, and took them away.\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person\",\n \"off all the frogs while he was asleep in\\nwinter--\\\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\\non pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!\\\" said\\nTommy Brock.\\n\\n\\n\\nIt was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy\\nBrock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and\",\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\\npassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for\\ndigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the\\nscarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And\\nthe otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in\\nwinter--\\\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\\n\",\n \"y, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\",\n \".\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\\\"He\\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\\\" whispered Peter.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\\n\\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun\",\n \"ung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\\nup on the chair.\\n\\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\\nmoved,--except\",\n \"balanced himself.\\n\\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\\n\\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up\",\n \"le, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\\n\\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\\n\\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\\ncreaked;\",\n \"very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\\n\\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\\ncreaked; he turned round with a jump. Tommy Brock, who had opened one\\neye--shut it hastily. The snores continued.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod's proceedings were peculiar, and rather uneasy, (because the bed\\nwas between the window and the door of the bedroom). He opened the\\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\\non to the window sill. The rest of the\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \", digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\\n\\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that\",\n \"window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\\n\\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod watched\",\n \"caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\\\"\\nBenjamin did so.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncirc\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\",\n \"end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\n\",\n \"water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\\n\\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\\n\\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\\nagain!\\\" sighed Benjamin.\\n\\nThey crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the\\nkitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;\\nthe cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon\\nthe window-sill.\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular sn\",\n \"they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\\nlistening and peeping.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting\",\n \"'s supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their\\nnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.\\n\\nThen they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It\\nwas damp and smelly, and overgrown with thorns and briars.\\n\\nThe rabbits shivered in their shoes.\\n\\n\\\"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\n\",\n \"and listening.\\n\\nIn half an hour the moon rose over the wood. It shone full and clear and\\ncold, upon the house amongst the rocks, and in at the kitchen window.\\nBut alas, no little rabbit babies were to be seen!\\n\\nThe moonbeams twinkled on the carving knife and the pie dish, and made a\\npath of brightness across the dirty floor.\\n\\nThe light showed a little door in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to\",\n \"the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThey climbed up and up;--\\\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\\nout of the hole.\\\" \\\"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\\\"\\n\\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \"the kitchen floor.\\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\\ndown; he was outside the tunnel, shuffling sand away. He called out that\\nit was morning--sunrise; and that the jays were making a noise down\\nbelow in the woods.\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny came out of the dark tunnel, shaking the sand from his\\nears; he cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shone\\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\\nmist\",\n \"y, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\",\n \"the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\\npassing.\\\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\\nthe hill).\\n\\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to\",\n \"what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the\\noven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. He\\nlifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.\\n\\n\\\"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes\",\n \"anting on the hill pastures. Half way\\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\\n\\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\\nwhile she watched him.\\n\\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\",\n \"preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\\na large carving knife and fork, and a chopper.\\n\\nAt the other end of the table was a partly unfolded tablecloth, a plate,\\na tumbler, a knife and fork, salt-cellar, mustard and a chair--in short,\\npreparations for one person's supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock\",\n \"pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\\nbushes, listening anxiously.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\\n\\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\\n\\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\\n\\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\\nand there were handfuls of Mr.\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"ck\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\\nears, and slapped him.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through\",\n \", Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\\nhole.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b\",\n \"his paws. Every minute the sun shone\\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\\n\\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\\n\\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod\",\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\"\n ],\n [\n \"a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between the large stones under the house; the\\nkitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it was\\nmade of earth or flags.\\n\\n\\n\\nThey dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account of\\nstones; but by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor.\\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\\ndown; he was outside the\",\n \"ring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod watched it for half an hour; his eyes glistened.\\n\\nThen he cut a caper, and became so bold that he even tapped at the\\nwindow; but the bundle never moved.\\n\\nYes--there was no doubt about it--it had turned out even better than he\\nhad planned; the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him\\ndead!\\n\\n\\\"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he\",\n \"was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\\nold enough to crawl.\\n\\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between\",\n \", digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\\n\\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that\",\n \"end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\n\",\n \"window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\\n\\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod watched\",\n \"Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he had\\nrooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he had dug quite a deep hole\\nfor dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the\\nway. Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger's heavy steps\\nshowed plainly in the mud.\\n\\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\\nthere were leaf\",\n \"\\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\\npail rolling over and over.\\n\\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket\",\n \"be\\nthoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a\\nhot-water bottle.\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"I will get soft soap, and monkey soap, and all sorts of soap; and soda\\nand scrubbing brushes; and persian powder; and carbolic to remove the\\nsmell. I must have a disinfecting. Perhaps I may have to burn sulphur.\\\"\\n\\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\\\"First I\\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag\",\n \"who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\\n\\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grunty and regular from Mr. Tod's bed.\\nNothing could be seen of the young family.\\n\\nThe sun had set; an owl began to hoot in the wood. There were many\\nunpleasant things lying about, that had much better have been buried;\\nrabbit bones and skulls, and chickens' legs and other horrors. It was a\\nshocking place, and very dark.\\n\\nThey went back to the\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\n\",\n \"the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him\\ndead!\\n\\n\\\"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he has dug. I will\\nbring my bedding out, and dry it in the sun,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\\"I will wash the tablecloth and spread it on the grass in the sun to\\nbleach. And the blanket must be hung up in the wind; and the bed must be\\nthoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a\\nhot-water bottle.\\\"\\n\",\n \"pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\\nbushes, listening anxiously.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\\n\\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\\n\\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\\n\\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\\nand there were handfuls of Mr.\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"anting on the hill pastures. Half way\\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\\nlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.\\n\\nCottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether\\nher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice\\nwhile she watched him.\\n\\nHe had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\",\n \"in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\\n\\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\",\n \"his paws. Every minute the sun shone\\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\\n\\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\\n\\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod\",\n \"had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught\\non a briar.\\n\\nBenjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole\\ntrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was\\ngetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy\\nthe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\\nhunting for dandelions.--\\\"Cousin Peter\",\n \"badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\\n\\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out\",\n \"went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen Mr. Tod got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain had\\ndragged the knot so tight that it was past untying. He was obliged to\\ngnaw it with his teeth. He chewed and gnawed for more than twenty\\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\"\n ],\n [\n \"water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling\\nover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-bath,\\nworked by a string, through the window.\\n\\n\\n\\nBut naturally being a thin-legged person (though vindictive and sandy\\nwhiskered)--he was quite unable to lift the heavy weight to the level of\\nthe hook and rope. He very nearly overbalanced himself.\\n\\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\\nlegs twitched\",\n \"window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\\n\\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod watched\",\n \"ung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\\nup on the chair.\\n\\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\\nmoved,--except\",\n \"and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\\n\\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\\npuzzled.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with\",\n \"water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\\n\\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\\n\\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\",\n \"the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\\n\\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits\",\n \"balanced himself.\\n\\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\\n\\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up\",\n \"\\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\\npail rolling over and over.\\n\\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket\",\n \"ashed to atoms.\\n\\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\\nand there were handfuls of Mr. Tod's sandy whiskers.\\n\\nThe vases fell off the mantelpiece, the canisters fell off the shelf;\\nthe kettle fell off the hob. Tommy Brock put his foot in a jar of\\nraspberry jam.\\n\\nAnd the boiling water out of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who\",\n \"be\\nthoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a\\nhot-water bottle.\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"I will get soft soap, and monkey soap, and all sorts of soap; and soda\\nand scrubbing brushes; and persian powder; and carbolic to remove the\\nsmell. I must have a disinfecting. Perhaps I may have to burn sulphur.\\\"\\n\\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\\\"First I\\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag\",\n \"ring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod watched it for half an hour; his eyes glistened.\\n\\nThen he cut a caper, and became so bold that he even tapped at the\\nwindow; but the bundle never moved.\\n\\nYes--there was no doubt about it--it had turned out even better than he\\nhad planned; the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him\\ndead!\\n\\n\\\"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he\",\n \"like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\\nmoved,--except one eye.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nAt last Mr. Tod's preparations were complete. The pail was full of\\nwater; the rope was tightly strained over the top of the bed, and across\\nthe window sill to the tree outside.\\n\\n\\\"It will make a great mess in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr\",\n \"Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he had\\nrooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he had dug quite a deep hole\\nfor dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the\\nway. Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger's heavy steps\\nshowed plainly in the mud.\\n\\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\\nthere were leaf\",\n \"went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen Mr. Tod got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain had\\ndragged the knot so tight that it was past untying. He was obliged to\\ngnaw it with his teeth. He chewed and gnawed for more than twenty\\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\",\n \"the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a\\nblanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon\\nhim attentively; he really was a first prize sound sleeper!\\n\\nIt seemed as though nothing would waken him--not even the flapping rope\\nacross the bed.\\n\\nMr. Tod descended safely from the chair, and endeavoured to get up again\\nwith the pail of water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling\\nover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-\",\n \"\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\\nPlease tell me quick!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he\",\n \"caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\\\"\\nBenjamin did so.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncirc\",\n \"the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him\\ndead!\\n\\n\\\"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he has dug. I will\\nbring my bedding out, and dry it in the sun,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\\"I will wash the tablecloth and spread it on the grass in the sun to\\nbleach. And the blanket must be hung up in the wind; and the bed must be\\nthoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a\\nhot-water bottle.\\\"\\n\",\n \"and listening.\\n\\nIn half an hour the moon rose over the wood. It shone full and clear and\\ncold, upon the house amongst the rocks, and in at the kitchen window.\\nBut alas, no little rabbit babies were to be seen!\\n\\nThe moonbeams twinkled on the carving knife and the pie dish, and made a\\npath of brightness across the dirty floor.\\n\\nThe light showed a little door in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to\",\n \", a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the\\nkitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the\\nrabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.\\n\\nBenjamin sighed with relief.\\n\\n\\n\\nBut there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\\na large\"\n ],\n [\n \"He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\\ncautiously and went in.\\n\\n\\n\\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\",\n \"Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\\nknife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that he\\nhad left folded up in the dresser--all set out for supper (or\\nbreakfast)--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\\nlistening and peeping.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting\",\n \"\\nshowed plainly in the mud.\\n\\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\\nthere were leafy oak stumps, and a sea of blue hyacinths--but the smell\\nthat made Benjamin stop, was _not_ the smell of flowers!\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod's stick house was before him and, for once, Mr. Tod was at home.\\nThere was not only a foxey flavour in proof of it--there was smoke\\ncoming out of the broken pail that served as a chimney.\\n\",\n \"in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in\\nthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went\\nout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his\\nfootsteps over the tunnel.\\n\\nHe ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to\\nlet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\",\n \"the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\\n\\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits\",\n \"badger, which fortunately\\noverpowered all smell of rabbit.\\n\\nBut what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular\\nsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.\\n\\nHe peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he\\nturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and\\nhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out\",\n \"balanced himself.\\n\\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\\n\\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"le, Tommy Brock was lying\\na little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an\\nincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he\\nwas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.\\n\\nMr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He\\nstood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the\\nsnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.\\n\\nMr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It\\ncreaked;\",\n \"end with rage.\\n\\n\\n\\nFor the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the\\nhouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured\\nfurther in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he\\nscratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not\\nlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\\nHe was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.\\nHe snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.\\n\\n\",\n \"ur.\\\"\\n\\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\\\"First I\\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\\nblanket....\\\"\\n\\nHe opened the door....\\n\\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed\",\n \"). He opened the\\nwindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line\\non to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,\\nremained in his hand.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for\\na minute; then he left the room again.\\n\\nTommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the\",\n \"oolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod's\\nkitchen floor.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod was coming up Bull Banks, and he was in the very worst of\\ntempers. First he had been upset by breaking the plate. It was his own\\nfault; but it was a china plate, the last of the dinner service that had\\nbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been\\nvery bad. And he had\",\n \"\\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\\npail rolling over and over.\\n\\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket\",\n \"window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\\n\\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod watched\",\n \"the dinner service that had\\nbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been\\nvery bad. And he had failed to catch a hen pheasant on her nest; and it\\nhad contained only five eggs, two of them addled. Mr. Tod had had an\\nunsatisfactory night.\\n\\n\\n\\nAs usual, when out of humour, he determined to move house. First he\\ntried the pollard willow, but it was damp; and the otters had left a\\ndead fish near it. Mr. Tod likes nobody's leav\",\n \"upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where\\nTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which\\nfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,\\nwarning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was\\ncoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.\\nTod snapped at it, and barked.\\n\\nHe approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up\",\n \"water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\\n\\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\\n\\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine\\noutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.\\n\\nHe lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a\\nsleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer\\ncould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;\\nbut he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\n\",\n \"ouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babies\\nwere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. They\\nsoon recovered.\\n\\nA long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to\\nMr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.\\n\\n\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter and\\nBenjamin told their story--but they had not waited\",\n \"y, who\\nhad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that\\nafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes\\nand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow\\nburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\",\n \"\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \\\"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\\nwine.\\\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\\n\\n\\n\\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed\",\n \", Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\nPeter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the\\nwood.\\n\\nFive minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away down\\nBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpetty\\nbump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit\\nhole.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nGreat was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and\\nBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-b\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \"--old Mr.\\nBouncer had forgotten them.\\n\\nHe sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was\\npassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for\\ndigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the\\nscarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And\\nthe otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in\\nwinter--\\\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\\n\",\n \"ck\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\\nrabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were\\nround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung her\\nears, and slapped him.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through\",\n \", digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\\n\\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that\",\n \"they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a\\ncrag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep\\nbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,\\nlistening and peeping.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThis house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting\",\n \"not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes they are!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\\nquarry.\\\"\\n\\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\\n\\n\\\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\\nhe won't miss them.\\\"\\n\\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\\n\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and\",\n \"the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\\noffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be\\npassing.\\\" (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on\\nthe hill).\\n\\nPeter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to\",\n \"pice, causing terror to\\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\\nwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.\\n\\nIn winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth\\namongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.\\n\\nHe had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.\\n\\nThe houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved _out_; because\\nsometimes Tommy Brock moved _in_; (without\",\n \"off all the frogs while he was asleep in\\nwinter--\\\"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living\\non pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!\\\" said\\nTommy Brock.\\n\\n\\n\\nIt was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy\\nBrock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \", who was\\nall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the\\nhill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to be seen. He seemed to\\nhave put down the sack every dozen yards, to rest.\\n\\n\\\"He must be very puffed; we are close behind him, by the scent. What a\\nnasty person!\\\" said Peter.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThe sunshine was still warm and slanting on the hill pastures. Half way\\nup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown\\n\",\n \"the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThey climbed up and up;--\\\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\\nout of the hole.\\\" \\\"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\\\"\\n\\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,\",\n \"of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who was still grinning, happened to\\nbe uppermost; and he rolled Mr. Tod over and over like a log, out at the\\ndoor.\\n\\nThen the snarling and worrying went on outside; and they rolled over the\\nbank, and down hill, bumping over the rocks. There will never be any\\nlove lost between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\nAs soon as the coast was clear, Peter Rabbit and Benjamin\"\n ],\n [\n \"a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between the large stones under the house; the\\nkitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it was\\nmade of earth or flags.\\n\\n\\n\\nThey dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account of\\nstones; but by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor.\\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\\ndown; he was outside the\",\n \"was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could\\nnot open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little\\nrabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not\\nold enough to crawl.\\n\\nAfter much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They\\nbegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they\\nmight be able to work between\",\n \"the kitchen floor.\\nBenjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn\\ndown; he was outside the tunnel, shuffling sand away. He called out that\\nit was morning--sunrise; and that the jays were making a noise down\\nbelow in the woods.\\n\\nBenjamin Bunny came out of the dark tunnel, shaking the sand from his\\nears; he cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shone\\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\\nmist\",\n \"and grinned. There\\nwas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.\\n\\nMr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the\\nhouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any\\nidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.\\n\\n\\n\\nHis foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the co\",\n \"in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood.\\n\\nAnd presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that\\nwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in\\nanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy\\nBrock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.\\n\\nBut\",\n \"Brock.\\n\\nThere was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark\\nand gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he had\\nrooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he had dug quite a deep hole\\nfor dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the\\nway. Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger's heavy steps\\nshowed plainly in the mud.\\n\\nThe path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;\\nthere were leaf\",\n \"had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there\\nwere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught\\non a briar.\\n\\nBenjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole\\ntrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was\\ngetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy\\nthe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily\\nhunting for dandelions.--\\\"Cousin Peter\",\n \", a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the\\nkitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the\\nrabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.\\n\\nBenjamin sighed with relief.\\n\\n\\n\\nBut there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\\na large\",\n \"caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole\\ntrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning.\\\"\\nBenjamin did so.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncirc\",\n \".\\n\\nThe room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;\\nbut they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as\\ntheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that\\nsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--\\\"He\\nhas gone to bed in his boots,\\\" whispered Peter.\\n\\n\\n\\nBenjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.\\n\\nTommy Brock's snores continued, grun\",\n \"and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\\n\\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\\npuzzled.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with\",\n \"so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and\\nlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.\\n\\nAnd Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the\\ncabbage smoke....\\n\\nWhen Flopsy and Benjamin came back--old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock\\nand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!\\n\\nMr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the\",\n \", digging\\nthings up.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nHis clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always\\nwent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was\\ngenerally Mr. Tod's.\\n\\nNow Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only very\\nlittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. He\\nwas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wicked\\notters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that\",\n \"his paws. Every minute the sun shone\\nwarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white\\nmist, with golden tops of trees showing through.\\n\\nAgain from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of\\na jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!\\n\\nThen those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most\\nfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod\",\n \"\\\"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you\\nseen him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?\\nPlease tell me quick!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were _caterpillars_; I\\ndid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way? which way has he\",\n \"ouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his\\nyears;\\\" said Peter reflectively, \\\"but there are two hopeful\\ncircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had\\nrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.\\\"\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" \\\"Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which\\nway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.\\nTod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he\",\n \"oolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short\\nnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod's\\nkitchen floor.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod was coming up Bull Banks, and he was in the very worst of\\ntempers. First he had been upset by breaking the plate. It was his own\\nfault; but it was a china plate, the last of the dinner service that had\\nbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been\\nvery bad. And he had\",\n \"the sack, and seemed doubled up with\\nlaughing.--\\\"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!\\\"\\nsaid Benjamin Bunny.\\n\\nThey climbed up and up;--\\\"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping\\nout of the hole.\\\" \\\"They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their\\nneighbours. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!\\\"\\n\\nWhen they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went\\ncautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there,\",\n \"\\nday passed heavily.\\n\\nOld Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with\\na chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She had\\nbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her\\nfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, was\\nwondering anxiously what she would do next.\\n\\n\\n\\nIn Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked his\\nway to the\",\n \"not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes they are!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone\\nquarry.\\\"\\n\\nStill Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--\\n\\n\\\"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that\\nhe won't miss them.\\\"\\n\\nDecidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!\\n\\n\\n\\nAt home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.\\n\\nAfter quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr.\\nTod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific battle all\\nover the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floor\\nwould give way at each crash of falling furniture.\\n\\nThey crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\\nbushes, listening anxiously.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house the racket\",\n \"ung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and\\nup on the chair.\\n\\nAs he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a\\nmilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail\\ngot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop\\nsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never\\nmoved,--except\",\n \"be\\nthoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a\\nhot-water bottle.\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\\"I will get soft soap, and monkey soap, and all sorts of soap; and soda\\nand scrubbing brushes; and persian powder; and carbolic to remove the\\nsmell. I must have a disinfecting. Perhaps I may have to burn sulphur.\\\"\\n\\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\\\"First I\\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag\",\n \"and listening.\\n\\nIn half an hour the moon rose over the wood. It shone full and clear and\\ncold, upon the house amongst the rocks, and in at the kitchen window.\\nBut alas, no little rabbit babies were to be seen!\\n\\nThe moonbeams twinkled on the carving knife and the pie dish, and made a\\npath of brightness across the dirty floor.\\n\\nThe light showed a little door in a wall beside the kitchen\\nfireplace--a little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that\\nold-fashioned sort that used to\",\n \"\\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a\\npail rolling over and over.\\n\\nBut no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened\\nattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket\",\n \"\\n\\nSo old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to\\ntaste a slice of seed-cake and \\\"a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslip\\nwine.\\\" Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.\\n\\n\\n\\nThen old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage\\nleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more\\nthan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed\",\n \"water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling\\nover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-bath,\\nworked by a string, through the window.\\n\\n\\n\\nBut naturally being a thin-legged person (though vindictive and sandy\\nwhiskered)--he was quite unable to lift the heavy weight to the level of\\nthe hook and rope. He very nearly overbalanced himself.\\n\\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\\nlegs twitched\",\n \"ashed to atoms.\\n\\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\\nand there were handfuls of Mr. Tod's sandy whiskers.\\n\\nThe vases fell off the mantelpiece, the canisters fell off the shelf;\\nthe kettle fell off the hob. Tommy Brock put his foot in a jar of\\nraspberry jam.\\n\\nAnd the boiling water out of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who\",\n \"window. The water was dripping\\nfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.\\n\\nIn the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened\\n_something_--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it\\n(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket\\nand it was _not snoring any longer_.\\n\\nThere was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop\\ndrip of water trickling from the mattress.\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod watched\",\n \"went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nWhen Mr. Tod got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain had\\ndragged the knot so tight that it was past untying. He was obliged to\\ngnaw it with his teeth. He chewed and gnawed for more than twenty\\nminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it\\nnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.\",\n \"and\\nBenjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy\\nBrock's work.\\n\\nHe took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and\\nthen tied the rope to a tree.\\n\\nTommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was\\npuzzled.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nMr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with\",\n \"water from the spring, and\\nstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.\\n\\nTommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.\\n\\nMr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with\\nthe hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost\\napoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.\\n\\nMr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs\\nwere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.\\n\",\n \"ur.\\\"\\n\\nHe hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--\\\"First I\\nwill arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the\\nblanket....\\\"\\n\\nHe opened the door....\\n\\nTommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from\\nMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and\\ngrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nThen Mr. Tod rushed\",\n \"pt out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and\\nbushes, listening anxiously.\\n\\n\\n\\nInside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven\\nwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.\\n\\nEverything was upset except the kitchen table.\\n\\nAnd everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen\\nfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.\\n\\nThe chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,\\nand there were handfuls of Mr.\",\n \"the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--\\n\\n\\\"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise,\\\" said Mr. Tod.\\n\\nThe moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.\\nTod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail\\nof water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.\\n\\nHe went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for\\nthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits\",\n \"preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\\na large carving knife and fork, and a chopper.\\n\\nAt the other end of the table was a partly unfolded tablecloth, a plate,\\na tumbler, a knife and fork, salt-cellar, mustard and a chair--in short,\\npreparations for one person's supper.\\n\\n\\n\\nNo person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty\\nand silent; the clock\",\n \", a prison, and a tumbledown\\npig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.\\n\\nThe setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the\\nkitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the\\nrabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.\\n\\nBenjamin sighed with relief.\\n\\n\\n\\nBut there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him\\nshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and\\na large\",\n \"\\nam going to make a story about two disagreeable people, called Tommy\\nBrock and Mr. Tod.\\n\\nNobody could call Mr. Tod \\\"nice.\\\" The rabbits could not bear him; they\\ncould smell him half a mile off. He was of a wandering habit and he had\\nfoxey whiskers; they never knew where he would be next.\\n\\n\\n\\nOne day he was living in a stick-house in the coppice, causing terror to\\nthe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollard\\nwillow near the lake\",\n \"He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He\\nsniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod\\nhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the\\nlock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door\\ncautiously and went in.\\n\\n\\n\\nThe sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod\\nfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his\",\n \"balanced himself.\\n\\nThe snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind\\nlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.\\n\\nMr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After\\nconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.\\nThe empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over\\nthe head of Tommy Brock.\\n\\nSurely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["Who is Mr Bouncer's son married to?","Who steals the gandchildren?","Who helps Benjamin find the bunnies?","Whose home does Tommy invade?","Where does Tommy often lodge?","Where were the bunnies hidden in Mr Tod's home?","What animal is Mr. Tod?","Why didn't Mr Tod hit Tommy in his sleep?","Who saves the bunnies?","Who is Tommy Brock?","Who is Benjamin Bunny's wife?","What happens when Mr. bouncer smoked some rabbit-tabacco?","Who takes the bunnies away from Mr. Bouncer?","Who is Benjamin's cousin?","What do Benjamin and Peter find at Mr. Tod's house first?","Why did Tod decide not to hit Tommy when Tod came home?","What happens to Tod when he comes into the kitchen?","What do the rabbits do after Tod and Timmy go outside to fight?","Who does Benjamin ask to babysit?","What does Mr. Bouncer do before taking a nap?","Where are the bunnies hidden?","Why does the digging stop?","What was used to collect the water?","What was Mr. Tod surprised to see?","What is the relationship between Flopsy and Mr. Bouncer?","Who helps Benjamin dig the tunnel?","What beverage is being mad during the story?"],"string":"[\n \"Who is Mr Bouncer's son married to?\",\n \"Who steals the gandchildren?\",\n \"Who helps Benjamin find the bunnies?\",\n \"Whose home does Tommy invade?\",\n \"Where does Tommy often lodge?\",\n \"Where were the bunnies hidden in Mr Tod's home?\",\n \"What animal is Mr. Tod?\",\n \"Why didn't Mr Tod hit Tommy in his sleep?\",\n \"Who saves the bunnies?\",\n \"Who is Tommy Brock?\",\n \"Who is Benjamin Bunny's wife?\",\n \"What happens when Mr. bouncer smoked some rabbit-tabacco?\",\n \"Who takes the bunnies away from Mr. Bouncer?\",\n \"Who is Benjamin's cousin?\",\n \"What do Benjamin and Peter find at Mr. Tod's house first?\",\n \"Why did Tod decide not to hit Tommy when Tod came home?\",\n \"What happens to Tod when he comes into the kitchen?\",\n \"What do the rabbits do after Tod and Timmy go outside to fight?\",\n \"Who does Benjamin ask to babysit?\",\n \"What does Mr. Bouncer do before taking a nap?\",\n \"Where are the bunnies hidden?\",\n \"Why does the digging stop?\",\n \"What was used to collect the water?\",\n \"What was Mr. Tod surprised to see?\",\n \"What is the relationship between Flopsy and Mr. Bouncer?\",\n \"Who helps Benjamin dig the tunnel?\",\n \"What beverage is being mad during the story?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["She is Flopsy.","Flopsy."],["Tommy brock steals the gandchildren?","Tommy."],["Peter Rabbit helps him find the bunnies.","Peter"],["He invades Mr. Tod's home.","Mr. Tod's."],["In Mr Tod's homes.","In Mr. Tod's homes"],["In the oven.","in the oven"],["Mr Tod is a fox.","A fox"],["Because of Tommy's Teeth","Because of his teeth."],["Benjamin and Peter save the bunnies","Benjamin and Peter"],["He's a Badger.","is the badger who stole the bunnies"],["Flopsy.","Flopsy"],["He falla asleep.","He falls asleep."],["Tommy Brock","Mr. Tod"],["Peter Rabit.","Peter Rabbit "],["They see Tommy asleep in Tod's bed.","tommy sleeping"],["On the count of Tommy's badger teeth.","He was scared of the badger's teeth."],["He has Tea poured on him.","tea is thrown on him"],["They gather the bunnies.","Return home."],["Mr. Bouncer.","Mr Bouncer"],["Smoke rabbit-tobacco.","He smokes a pipe of rabbit-tobacco."],["In the oven.","in a tunnel"],["Because Mr. Tod returns.","Mr Tod arrives in a bad temper."],["A pail bucket.","a pail"],["The fox in his bed.","a Badger in his bed"],["She's his daughter in law.","Flopsy is Mr. Bouncer's daughter-in-law."],["Peter.","Peter Rabbit."],["Tea.","tea"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"She is Flopsy.\",\n \"Flopsy.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Tommy brock steals the gandchildren?\",\n \"Tommy.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Peter Rabbit helps him find the bunnies.\",\n \"Peter\"\n ],\n [\n \"He invades Mr. Tod's home.\",\n \"Mr. Tod's.\"\n ],\n [\n \"In Mr Tod's homes.\",\n \"In Mr. Tod's homes\"\n ],\n [\n \"In the oven.\",\n \"in the oven\"\n ],\n [\n \"Mr Tod is a fox.\",\n \"A fox\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because of Tommy's Teeth\",\n \"Because of his teeth.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Benjamin and Peter save the bunnies\",\n \"Benjamin and Peter\"\n ],\n [\n \"He's a Badger.\",\n \"is the badger who stole the bunnies\"\n ],\n [\n \"Flopsy.\",\n \"Flopsy\"\n ],\n [\n \"He falla asleep.\",\n \"He falls asleep.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Tommy Brock\",\n \"Mr. Tod\"\n ],\n [\n \"Peter Rabit.\",\n \"Peter Rabbit \"\n ],\n [\n \"They see Tommy asleep in Tod's bed.\",\n \"tommy sleeping\"\n ],\n [\n \"On the count of Tommy's badger teeth.\",\n \"He was scared of the badger's teeth.\"\n ],\n [\n \"He has Tea poured on him.\",\n \"tea is thrown on him\"\n ],\n [\n \"They gather the bunnies.\",\n \"Return home.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Mr. Bouncer.\",\n \"Mr Bouncer\"\n ],\n [\n \"Smoke rabbit-tobacco.\",\n \"He smokes a pipe of rabbit-tobacco.\"\n ],\n [\n \"In the oven.\",\n \"in a tunnel\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because Mr. Tod returns.\",\n \"Mr Tod arrives in a bad temper.\"\n ],\n [\n \"A pail bucket.\",\n \"a pail\"\n ],\n [\n \"The fox in his bed.\",\n \"a Badger in his bed\"\n ],\n [\n \"She's his daughter in law.\",\n \"Flopsy is Mr. Bouncer's daughter-in-law.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Peter.\",\n \"Peter Rabbit.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Tea.\",\n \"tea\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"cbbbb720b94e009cc9a76b83f08f829de284617e"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":30,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["ade her:\n\n You must tell us.\n\n But Joan declines to answer:\n\n That has nothing to do with your\n trial!**\n\n42 Cauchon maintains the contrary, and Joan tells him to ask the\n assembly. Cauchon turns to the judges and asks:\n 10.\n\n\n Has this question any bearing on\n the trial?\n\n He orders those who consider that it has to raise their\n hands. Nearly every hand goes up. Then it is the turn of\n those who","his\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\n doctrines in deed as well as in word; and asks her if she has\n anything to say in answer to this. She reflects for a moment\n and, while the spectators stand on tiptoe to see what is\n happening, she rises to her feet and says:\n\n I alone am responsible for\n everything that I have said and\n done ...\n\n Joan draws a deep breath"," 8.\n\n\n31 An indication that another trap is being prepared. Then one\n of the judges says:\n\n So it is God who has commanded you\n to go about in men's clothes?\n\n Joan answers unhesitatingly:\n\n Yes!\n\n A smile of triumph spreads from face to face among Joan's\n judges.\n\n32 The Promoter, Jean d'Estivet, complacently makes some notes.\n Then he leans forward over his desk, smiles and asks in an","Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\n out:\n\n Long live the Maid! ... Long live\n France!\n\n Two soldiers turn abruptly, force their way through the\n crowd, seize the unfortunate man who has given vent to his\n patriotic feelings, and lead him away.\n\n151 Joan has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\n aloud:\n\n","says with\n great emphasis:\n\n Suppose we were to tell you now\n that your visions did not - as you\n believe - come from God ...\n\n Joan looks up quickly, as if unable to believe her ears. She\n searches the faces of her judges, one after the other.\n Cauchon continues:\n\n ... but are sent to you by the\n Devil, who wants to bring your soul\n to perdition!\n\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\n across her face. Almost","\n history of the world - the official\n record of the trial of Joan of Arc.\n\n The Bibliothèque Nationale's original record of the trial of\n Joan of Arc is shown on the screen. An invisible hand turns\n over the manuscript pages.\n\n ... If you turn over the pages,\n yellow with age, which contain the\n account of her martyrdom ...\n\n Page after page is shown of this unique document with its\n lines as straight as arrows, its marginal annotations, and\n the naïve miniature drawings for","of putrefaction arose from this\n earth filled with dead bodies. The poisonous smell of\n nothingness. The smell of stones, corpses and worms. Against\n the buttress of the church two platforms have been erected\n and covered with red velvet. On one of them the entire\n assembly of judges is sitting in state: Pierre Cauchon, the\n Inquisitor, and a host of jurists in scarlet caps and purple\n skull-caps. The other platform is for Joan.\n\n128 Escorted by English soldiers, Joan'","ues the matter further:\n\n Did he have any hair on his head?\n\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground, smiles\n and answers with artless inspiration:\n\n Why should he have had it cut off?\n\n29 Cauchon sees that he will get nowhere with Joan by this\n method. He confers with those sitting nearest him and then\n gives way to the examining judge, who begins to question Joan\n about her dress:\n\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\n\n Joan refuses several times","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu","immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\n do so.\n\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\n an inclination of the head and asks:\n\n You say that you are sent by God?\n\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\n\n To save France!\n\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\n the right","The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\n the right words for her. Her expression, which is filled with\n the glory of a heavenly vision, is almost unearthly as she\n answers:\n\n That is why I was born!\n\n More contemptuous laughter from the judges. The examining\n judge confers with the other judges. Their expressions show\n that they are setting a new trap for Joan.\n\n20 Finally he says:\n\n So you","trial has been unanimously agreed, she\n is obliged to answer. He repeats his question:\n\n What has God promised you?\n\n Joan does not answer.\n\n44 Cauchon continues:\n\n Has God promised you that you will\n be released from your prison?\n\n Joan confirms this with a nod. Dalleu speaks in a low voice\n to Cauchon, who asks:\n\n When?\n\n After sitting for a while, lost in thought, Joan answers:\n\n I do not know the day","6.\n\n\n148 She draws a circle, explaining as she does so that she is\n unable to write. But this is not good enough for Erard. So\n Loiseleur steps forward and guides Joan's hand, enabling her\n to write the word JEHANNE, followed by a cross. When Joan has\n signed, Erard, with the document raised over his head, gives\n a wink of triumph to let the judges know that he has\n succeeded in his task. The document passes from hand to hand\n until it reaches Loise","the bishop and says to him:\n\n We are treating this woman like an\n enemy - not like a human being on\n trial!\n\n37 Then he casts a look full of tenderness at Joan, who at this\n moment is drying her cheeks, still wet from Jean d'Estivet's\n spittle. Houppeville continues:\n\n For me she is a saint!\n\n He goes over to her, genuflects before her, and turns to go\n out through the door.\n\n38 Warwick has","asking to die. He says\n in a friendly tone:\n\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\n front of everybody that you were\n misled by the Devil.\n\n Joan, who has gradually regained her self-control, does not\n answer immediately. It is only when the judges press her that\n she replies:\n\n Everything I said was for fear of\n the stake!\n\n Cauchon holds a whispered consultation with the others, but\n it is clear that they all regard it as wasted effort to\n","\n appear before us ...\n\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\n the jailer. They lead Joan out.*\n\n8 THE CHAPEL\n\n Bishop Cauchon takes the chair for the trial. To either side\n of him sit the Inquisitor, Lemaître, and Jean d'Estivet, who\n is to present the case against Joan.\n 3.\n\n\n These three men are surrounded by the other forty-one\n clerics, all men of learning, thoroughly versed in","\n The bishop, who is engaged in thumbing through some documents\n which one of the prelates, Loiseleur, has just brought him,\n discusses the request briefly with the Inquisitor, and\n replies that he is obliged to deny her this favor because of\n her indecent dress.\n 4.\n\n\n13 Then he opens the session and orders Joan to take the oath.\n With a gesture he indicates that the Bible is to be fetched\n and placed in front of Joan. She kneels, f","that he is, has no difficulty in\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am"," 3.\n\n\n These three men are surrounded by the other forty-one\n clerics, all men of learning, thoroughly versed in the art of\n dragging confessions out of accused persons.\n\n A special table is reserved for the notaries.\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the accused to be brought in.\n\n9 Every face turns towards the entrance. They all see Joan for\n the first time. It is so quiet in the chapel that you can\n hear the grating noise of the chains round Joan's ankles.\n\n","other judges. Their expressions show\n that they are setting a new trap for Joan.\n\n20 Finally he says:\n\n So you believe that God hates the\n English?\n\n Joan does not immediately understand the question, and the\n examining judge has to repeat it. Then Joan gives one of her\n brilliant, inspired answers:\n\n I know not whether God loves or\n hates the English ...\n\n21 Disappointment on the judges' faces. Joan continues, with a\n strength which suddenly reveals a new side of her character,\n"],["and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\n\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\n her eyes:\n\n Where will I be tonight?\n\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n ","\n\n\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\n question. She answers:\n\n My martyrdom ...\n\n Ladvenu nods. He looks at her as at a saint descended from\n heaven. Yet he cannot refrain from asking one more question:\n\n And your release?\n\n Joan answers with a look of ecstasy in her eyes:\n\n ... Death ... !\n\n Her purity and the sincerity of her faith in God are almost\n dazzling to Ladvenu","'s answer, the preacher\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\n\n Make her be quiet!\n\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\n little scene.\n\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's","The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\n the right words for her. Her expression, which is filled with\n the glory of a heavenly vision, is almost unearthly as she\n answers:\n\n That is why I was born!\n\n More contemptuous laughter from the judges. The examining\n judge confers with the other judges. Their expressions show\n that they are setting a new trap for Joan.\n\n20 Finally he says:\n\n So you","says with\n great emphasis:\n\n Suppose we were to tell you now\n that your visions did not - as you\n believe - come from God ...\n\n Joan looks up quickly, as if unable to believe her ears. She\n searches the faces of her judges, one after the other.\n Cauchon continues:\n\n ... but are sent to you by the\n Devil, who wants to bring your soul\n to perdition!\n\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\n across her face. Almost","the\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\n\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\n Church is unable to protect you!\n\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\n\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\n\n Dear God, I accept my death\n willingly and gladly ...\n\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\n continues:\n\n ","to continue. He asks Joan:\n\n Has God promised you anything?\n\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\n him what it is that God has promised.\n\n Can you not tell us what it is that\n God has promised you?\n\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\n\n You must tell us.\n\n But Joan declines to answer:\n\n That has nothing to do with your\n",", who begins to question Joan\n about her dress:\n\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\n\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\n\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\n dress?\n\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\n secret, and says no to the","from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\n\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\n a short prayer.\n\n4 THE CH","that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n His ways are not our ways!\n\n After a pause she adds:\n\n Yes, I am His child!\n\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\n\n And the great victory?\n 42.\n\n\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\n question. She answers:\n\n My martyr","\n thoughts and remains silent. She looks in the direction of\n Loiseleur, who is apparently absorbed in his own reflection.\n He is abandoning her to her fate. In his view she is a\n certain prey; whether she answers yes or no, she is doomed to\n perdition. But now that Joan has collected her thoughts\n again, she gives this admirable answer:\n\n If I am not, may God put me there!\n And if I am, may God so keep me!\n\n77 Joan has broken the chain of beaters.","addressed to her, and she thinks\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\n completely.\n\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\n\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\n have been hurting intensely, bows","immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\n do so.\n\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\n an inclination of the head and asks:\n\n You say that you are sent by God?\n\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\n\n To save France!\n\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\n the right","ieu says:\n\n At the stake!\n\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\n\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\n Ladvenu says:\n\n How can you still believe that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n",", Lemaître and some of the other judges plot together.\n\n71 Lemaître leans forward and begins to question her:\n\n Has God promised you that you will\n go to Paradise?\n\n Joan knows instinctively that they have laid a trap for her.\n In her uncertainty she looks for help from Loiseleur, who\n indicates to her with a slight smile that she is to say yes.\n Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\n says"," ... alone ...\n\n But a heavenly light shines from Joan's face. She smiles.\n With her eyes raised to heaven she says:\n\n ... alone - with God!\n\n95 Cauchon, realizing that his prey is about to escape him,\n increases his exertions and displays all his powers of\n persuasion. Does she know that the Church has the means to\n compel her? Is she familiar with the secrets of the torture?\n Cauchon's threats make no impression on Joan.\n\n She feels safe with her","Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\n out.\n\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up","too! It is as if in this little incident\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\n has lost by her abjuration.\n\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,"],["ur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\n\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\n Charles, the King, hereby informs\n you that he is preparing to advance\n on Rouen with a mighty army. He is\n sending you a faithful priest, who\n will stand by you. Have confidence\n in him.\n\n The reflection of an inner joy shines in her eyes. Her face\n lights up during the reading and she smiles. Loiseleur does\n not move from the spot. He stands watching her, motionless\n ","\n\n Would you recognize your King's\n signature?\n\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\n visit. From his cowl he produces a letter which he hands to\n Joan. She takes it. She shows with a smile that she\n recognizes Charles VII's signature. Then she returns the\n letter and says:\n\n I can't read!\n\n61 Loiseleur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\n\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\n Charles, the King, hereby inform","that he is, has no difficulty in\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am","and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\n spectators is at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the","6 Massieu has gone to fetch the Eucharist. A procession of\n priests, wearing surplices and stoles, and carrying lights in\n their hands, comes out of the chapel and goes in the\n direction of the castle yard, singing litanies.\n\n167 Everyone in the castle yard kneels; the women are in tears.\n To every entreaty the priests answer:\n\n Pray for her!\n\n168 Presently the procession arrives at Joan's cell, and she\n prepares to receive the","not a great\n blessing?\n\n Joan nods, and her expression seems to want to say: of\n course, everybody knows that the Church has no greater\n treasure.\n\n Cauchon continues:\n\n ... But you will never share in the\n Church's blessings, if you do not\n expiate your sins.\n\n113 He indicates to Joan that she must sign. One of the judges\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\n lies on Joan's face as she",". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\n her king. God can hear her!\n\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\n which Loiseleur presents his questions","fails to notice this,\n absorbed as she is in wondering why this prelate has come to\n visit her. Loiseleur, who has now come right up to Joan,\n hands her the ring, which she receives gratefully. Then she\n again fixes her look of enquiry on the prelate, whom she has\n previously seen among her judges.\n\n60 Finally he says to her in a low whisper:\n\n Would you recognize your King's\n signature?\n\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\n visit.","that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am guilty of\n the crimes with which I am charged,\n and which the Devil has misled me\n into committing. I confess that my\n visions are the work of the Devil,\n and I am ready to return to the\n path of truth and, before all the\n world, to recant ...\n\n94 When the notary has finished reading aloud, Cauchon tells\n Joan warning","elties. He\n remains standing a few paces from her, looks at her in a\n serious and friendly way and says:\n\n I have great sympathy for you!\n\n A feeble smile appears at the corners of Joan's mouth, but\n her expression of astonishment remains.\n\n59 Loiseleur has stopped by the cross; when he takes a pace\n forward the cross disappears; but Joan fails to notice this,\n absorbed as she is in wondering why this prelate has come to\n visit her. Loiseleur, who has","at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the excitement is palpable.\n People seem to be afraid of her dying.\n\n147 But Joan is like somebody who has escaped from a great\n danger, whose relief now finds expression in a tremendous\n joy, almost resembling gaiety.\n 36.\n\n\n148 She draws a circle, explaining as she does so that she is\n unable to write. But this is not",".\n\n68 Lemaître continues with the hearing:\n\n Has God told you that you will be\n released from your prison?\n\n Joan smiles and gives Loiseleur a secret, confidential\n glance. His eyes gleam back at her in complicity. She\n answers:\n\n Yes ... and by means of a great\n victory!\n\n69 The judges are astonished and cross-examine her. They ask her\n to explain precisely what she knows, and how she has come to\n know it. But Joan answers:\n\n","ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n\n ... now and in our last hour.\n\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\n\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then"," Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\n says:\n\n So you are certain of being saved?\n 16.\n\n\n72 Again Joan resorts to Loiseleur. He gives the same sign as\n before, and Joan says yes.\n\n Massieu's eyes are as if riveted to Joan's lips, and now when\n she answers yes he forgets where he is, forgets that Cauchon\n is just beside","the hiding-\n place; he is perfectly aware of its existence. When he\n reaches the chink, he and Cauchon look at each other. First\n Cauchon's serious eye is shown through the chink, then -\n likewise through the chink - Loiseleur's small, cunning,\n contracted eye. Loiseleur catches sight of the crown and\n says:\n\n Your martyr's crown.\n\n Then he turns to Joan, who is still sitting with the King's\n letter in her hands.","at Joan's side. He begins\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\n John's Gospel: 'The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except\n it abide in the vine.' Inspiring terror at one moment,\n speaking sanctimoniously the next, he warns, he threatens, he\n implores, he mocks, he calls her a cunning traitor, cruel,\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\n measure with his words and finally reaches a","from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\n\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\n a short prayer.\n\n4 THE CH","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\n aloud:\n\n In as much as you have at last\n renounced the error of your ways,\n we release you from excommunication\n from the Church ...\n\n Cauchon pauses for a moment. Joan stands before her judges\n with folded hands. A smile of gratitude is sketched on her\n face. She lowers her head to conceal her joy. Then Cauchon\n continues:\n\n"],["ur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\n\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\n Charles, the King, hereby informs\n you that he is preparing to advance\n on Rouen with a mighty army. He is\n sending you a faithful priest, who\n will stand by you. Have confidence\n in him.\n\n The reflection of an inner joy shines in her eyes. Her face\n lights up during the reading and she smiles. Loiseleur does\n not move from the spot. He stands watching her, motionless\n ","\n\n Would you recognize your King's\n signature?\n\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\n visit. From his cowl he produces a letter which he hands to\n Joan. She takes it. She shows with a smile that she\n recognizes Charles VII's signature. Then she returns the\n letter and says:\n\n I can't read!\n\n61 Loiseleur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\n\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\n Charles, the King, hereby inform","looks at\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\n\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\n away!\n\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\n\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\n appear before us ...\n\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\n the jailer. They lead Joan out","Your martyr's crown.\n\n Then he turns to Joan, who is still sitting with the King's\n letter in her hands. He offers to hear her confession.\n\n64 She turns to him with a look of joy, hardly daring to believe\n in this happiness. She drops a pretty curtsy, then kneels\n with folded hands in a charming attitude suggestive of a\n penitent child. He advises her strongly to speak to him with\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\n her king.","the hiding-\n place; he is perfectly aware of its existence. When he\n reaches the chink, he and Cauchon look at each other. First\n Cauchon's serious eye is shown through the chink, then -\n likewise through the chink - Loiseleur's small, cunning,\n contracted eye. Loiseleur catches sight of the crown and\n says:\n\n Your martyr's crown.\n\n Then he turns to Joan, who is still sitting with the King's\n letter in her hands.","fails to notice this,\n absorbed as she is in wondering why this prelate has come to\n visit her. Loiseleur, who has now come right up to Joan,\n hands her the ring, which she receives gratefully. Then she\n again fixes her look of enquiry on the prelate, whom she has\n previously seen among her judges.\n\n60 Finally he says to her in a low whisper:\n\n Would you recognize your King's\n signature?\n\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\n visit.","Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\n out.\n\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up",". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\n her king. God can hear her!\n\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\n which Loiseleur presents his questions","continues:\n\n There has never been a monster in\n France like the one which has\n appeared in the form of Joan.\n\n He pauses, leans towards her, and with a threatening gesture\n shouts at Joan:\n\n It is to you, Joan, I am talking...\n it is to you I say that your king\n is a heretic!\n 33.\n\n\n137 Now Joan turns towards him. She can withstand all his\n invective, when it is","... you\n must continue to fight for France\n ... for the King of France.\n\n Joan feels a pang in the pit of her stomach when he\n pronounces the name of her country and her king, which mean\n everything to her and are never out of her thoughts.\n\n145 The spectators follow with anxiety and deep involvement\n everything taking place on the platform. Those standing round\n her, who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\n sign","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","addressed to her, and she thinks\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\n completely.\n\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\n\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\n have been hurting intensely, bows","'s\n eyes well over with tears. He is afraid he will be unable to\n stifle his emotion and withdraws.\n\n170 The solemn ceremony is over. The monks leave.\n\n171 The jailer comes in with a coat which Joan is to wear.\n 43.\n\n\n172 Meanwhile rumors are circulating among the crowd in the area\n behind the churchyard that Joan has withdrawn her abjuration.\n Now they set out in swarms for the castle, pressing over the","and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\n spectators is at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the","the bishop and says to him:\n\n We are treating this woman like an\n enemy - not like a human being on\n trial!\n\n37 Then he casts a look full of tenderness at Joan, who at this\n moment is drying her cheeks, still wet from Jean d'Estivet's\n spittle. Houppeville continues:\n\n For me she is a saint!\n\n He goes over to her, genuflects before her, and turns to go\n out through the door.\n\n38 Warwick has","that he is, has no difficulty in\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am","is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu","parapets of the\n bridge in the hope of seeing a tiny fragment of the\n unaccustomed spectacle.\n\n173 In between, scenes from the prison are shown. Joan is wearing\n a coat that comes down to her feet, which are bare. Her\n earlier calm seems to have disappeared. She prays and weeps\n incessantly. Ladvenu and Massieu, who have returned to fetch\n her, lead her away.\n\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\n to many of those","33.\n\n\n137 Now Joan turns towards him. She can withstand all his\n invective, when it is her own person and her own honor that\n are at stake; but this accusation directed at her king deeply\n outrages Joan's love of France and of Charles, the king. Her\n expression is one of anger and indignation as she says:\n\n Indeed, my lord, I am ready to\n maintain, even at the risk of my\n life, that my king is the noblest\n "],["carried in, every neck is craned to catch a glimpse of her.\n For her part Joan tries to read her destiny in their faces.\n From the way they look at her she gets the impression that\n their feelings towards her are friendly. Joan, who for months\n has lived remote from this earth, is visibly moved. She\n smiles at the tiny flowers which greet her from the grass.\n She almost touches them with her hand and imagines that she\n is caressing them. But when she looks in the other direction,\n her eye falls on two gr","addressed to her, and she thinks\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\n completely.\n\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\n\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\n have been hurting intensely, bows",":\n\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\n\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\n locks of hair fall on the ground. Joan weeps ceaselessly. The\n events in the churchyard pass in succession before her eyes,\n but now she sees them in relation to one another, from a new\n angle and with a sharper perception. She realizes that it is\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\n","Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\n\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\n her eyes:\n\n Where will I be tonight?\n\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n ","the\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\n\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\n Church is unable to protect you!\n\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\n\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\n\n Dear God, I accept my death\n willingly and gladly ...\n\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\n continues:\n\n ",". She feels ashamed. What has\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\n\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\n it up onto a shovel. He glances","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","is\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\n entreaty:\n\n Oh, I am so tired ...\n\n The jail","Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\n out.\n\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up","too! It is as if in this little incident\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\n has lost by her abjuration.\n\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,","is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness","ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n\n ... now and in our last hour.\n\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\n\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n","at Joan's side. He begins\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\n John's Gospel: 'The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except\n it abide in the vine.' Inspiring terror at one moment,\n speaking sanctimoniously the next, he warns, he threatens, he\n implores, he mocks, he calls her a cunning traitor, cruel,\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\n measure with his words and finally reaches a",". It is so quiet in the chapel that you can\n hear the grating noise of the chains round Joan's ankles.\n\n10 Joan comes forward. Through the pointed, colored windows the\n sunlight falls obliquely into the room in long shafts.\n Suddenly Joan finds herself in the middle of one of these\n shafts and stops for a moment. She becomes aware that every\n eye is turned towards her; she sees that they are hard, cold\n and uncomprehending. For a few seconds it seems as if she is\n going","nothing of what goes on around her escapes her\n notice. She looks towards the open grave. She cannot see the\n actual gravedigger, only the earth which he is shoveling up\n from deep down. Then she hears a shout of command.\n\n135 In the densest part of the crowd the soldiers are clearing a\n passage to allow a carriage into the churchyard. The new\n arrivals are the executioner and his two assistants.\n\n136 Erard is enraged at Joan's apparent lack of interest in",", lets her head\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\n\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\n shouts:\n\n You have burnt a saint!\n\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\n\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\n falls in ashes. Joan'","at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the excitement is palpable.\n People seem to be afraid of her dying.\n\n147 But Joan is like somebody who has escaped from a great\n danger, whose relief now finds expression in a tremendous\n joy, almost resembling gaiety.\n 36.\n\n\n148 She draws a circle, explaining as she does so that she is\n unable to write. But this is not","one faggot to another ... they advance\n in little jumps over cavities and gaps in the fuel. Sparks\n fly, smoke whirls up; through the smoke, which occasionally\n conceals Joan, can be seen part of her\n\n195 Face, which is raised to heaven, and her mouth, which is\n whispering prayers. Then her eyes seek Christ, whom Ladvenu\n continues to hold up towards her; Christ who, like herself,\n is enveloped in smoke.\n\n196 Through the smoke she sees the executioner"],["is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness",", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\n earnestly to follow this advice.\n\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the","too! It is as if in this little incident\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\n has lost by her abjuration.\n\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,","must sign. One of the judges\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\n lies on Joan's face as she sits there, sick, feverish and\n racked with doubts. On one side she sees the wafer, which is\n more precious to her than life itself, on the other side the\n document, which will make her confess that she is an agent of\n the Devil.\n\n114 As if talking to herself and her conscience, she says:\n\n I am a good Christian ...\n\n As she sits","Church advises her to sign\n she must do so. Once again she turns to Erard and asks him to\n tell her whether she must abjure. He answers:\n\n Either you sign - or you will go to\n the stake!\n\n and he points at the executioner, who at this moment\n approaches at a sign from Warwick. Now Joan understands the\n cruel death in store for her, and she is afraid. Jesus Christ\n also was afraid when He learned that His hour was come. Fear\n has overcome her spirit and is affecting her","114 As if talking to herself and her conscience, she says:\n\n I am a good Christian ...\n\n As she sits there, alone with all these men, she is the\n picture of utter despair and loneliness. They all gaze at her\n with fixed stares. Nobody speaks to her. Finally Cauchon\n breaks the silence. In a quiet voice he advises Joan to sign\n and save her soul; but Joan has now mastered her temptation.\n She hands back the paper. Her body is broken. But the\n strength of her","is\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\n entreaty:\n\n Oh, I am so tired ...\n\n The jail","and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\n spectators is at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the","to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness to sign. A judge holds\n the document out to her, but Joan thrusts it away so\n violently that it falls on the ground. Somebody picks it up.\n And Joan says vehemently:\n\n ... and if I should confess\n anything, I will afterwards declare\n that it was only by using force\n that you made me confess.\n 24.\n\n\n96","not a great\n blessing?\n\n Joan nods, and her expression seems to want to say: of\n course, everybody knows that the Church has no greater\n treasure.\n\n Cauchon continues:\n\n ... But you will never share in the\n Church's blessings, if you do not\n expiate your sins.\n\n113 He indicates to Joan that she must sign. One of the judges\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\n lies on Joan's face as she","that he is, has no difficulty in\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am"," She is very weak...\n\n The two men exchange glances. Cauchon and the judges have\n come to extort a confession from Joan. 'whether because they\n were afraid of her escaping in this way and dying without\n having made a recantation, or because her weakened physical\n condition raised hopes of her soul being easier to purchase.'\n\n Cauchon explains to Warwick how he wants to proceed.\n Loiseleur joins in the discussion and proposes a drastic\n remedy. Cauchon approves Loise","auchon cuts him short and\n orders the hearing to continue.\n\n73 Lemaître presents his next question, which is only one link\n in a chain of questions carefully prepared and ingeniously\n related:\n\n Since you are so certain of your\n salvation ... why do you need to go\n to confession?\n\n Joan is already floundering in the net. She has the feeling\n that her answer may decide her destiny. She is like a hunted\n animal that looks for the smallest gap in the chain of\n beaters in the","28.\n\n\n111 The judges in the cell send up a prayer of thanks to God for\n restoring this lost sheep to the fold. Joan smiles happily.\n\n Then the notary places a document in front of Joan and offers\n her a pen. Joan looks in amazement at the document, which she\n recognizes: it is the same declaration which was placed in\n front of her for her to sign during the torture scene. Her\n look of astonishment shifts from the notary to the document\n and from the latter to Cauchon.\n\n","ess by severity. The judges\n are overcome by a feeling which can almost be called\n irritation - irritation with Joan and what they call her pig-\n headedness.\n\n118 Jean d'Estivet reproaches her harshly for allowing her vanity\n to take precedence over the salvation of her soul. He\n concludes with these words:\n\n If you die in this hour, you die as\n an infidel...\n\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\n subjected,","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu",":\n\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\n\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\n locks of hair fall on the ground. Joan weeps ceaselessly. The\n events in the churchyard pass in succession before her eyes,\n but now she sees them in relation to one another, from a new\n angle and with a sharper perception. She realizes that it is\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\n","to torture. While the executioners are\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\n\n One instrument of torture after another is displayed for\n Joan's benefit. With an executioner at her side she is\n conducted past the various appliances. She looks at each one\n for a long time, trembling with fear. Occasionally the\n executioner demonstrates with a gesture how one of the\n instruments is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n ","her expression. The\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\n executioner rises up before her, she surrenders.\n\n146 She casts a frightened glance at her surroundings; then she\n slowly kneels and bows her head. Sommaire seizes the document\n which has been placed in front of Joan for her signature and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in","Is she familiar with the secrets of the torture?\n Cauchon's threats make no impression on Joan.\n\n She feels safe with her God. Her face is transfigured by a\n beautiful light as she says:\n\n I would rather die than deny God's\n acts.\n\n Enraged by Joan's pig-headedness, Cauchon loses patience. He\n orders Joan to be put to torture. While the executioners are\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\n\n One instrument of torture after another is"],["and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\n spectators is at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the","is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness","must sign. One of the judges\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\n lies on Joan's face as she sits there, sick, feverish and\n racked with doubts. On one side she sees the wafer, which is\n more precious to her than life itself, on the other side the\n document, which will make her confess that she is an agent of\n the Devil.\n\n114 As if talking to herself and her conscience, she says:\n\n I am a good Christian ...\n\n As she sits","28.\n\n\n111 The judges in the cell send up a prayer of thanks to God for\n restoring this lost sheep to the fold. Joan smiles happily.\n\n Then the notary places a document in front of Joan and offers\n her a pen. Joan looks in amazement at the document, which she\n recognizes: it is the same declaration which was placed in\n front of her for her to sign during the torture scene. Her\n look of astonishment shifts from the notary to the document\n and from the latter to Cauchon.\n\n","s in confirmation.\n\n163 Again the judges exchange looks. The notary raises his head\n from his book. He examines the judges' faces searchingly,\n looks at Joan and writes in his notes: 'Fatal answer.'\n Cauchon has stood up. However dulled his human feelings may\n be, it still goes against the grain with him to send Joan to\n the stake, even though she herself is asking to die. He says\n in a friendly tone:\n\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\n front of everybody that",". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\n her king. God can hear her!\n\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\n which Loiseleur presents his questions","not a great\n blessing?\n\n Joan nods, and her expression seems to want to say: of\n course, everybody knows that the Church has no greater\n treasure.\n\n Cauchon continues:\n\n ... But you will never share in the\n Church's blessings, if you do not\n expiate your sins.\n\n113 He indicates to Joan that she must sign. One of the judges\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\n lies on Joan's face as she","Church advises her to sign\n she must do so. Once again she turns to Erard and asks him to\n tell her whether she must abjure. He answers:\n\n Either you sign - or you will go to\n the stake!\n\n and he points at the executioner, who at this moment\n approaches at a sign from Warwick. Now Joan understands the\n cruel death in store for her, and she is afraid. Jesus Christ\n also was afraid when He learned that His hour was come. Fear\n has overcome her spirit and is affecting her","too! It is as if in this little incident\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\n has lost by her abjuration.\n\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,",", who begins to question Joan\n about her dress:\n\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\n\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\n\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\n dress?\n\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\n secret, and says no to the","that he is, has no difficulty in\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am",", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\n earnestly to follow this advice.\n\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the","and\n gasps for breath. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with\n her sleeve. For a moment there is silence. Only her groans\n can be heard. The judges look at each other, not knowing what\n to do. Then they turn to Cauchon who is pondering. It is he\n who breaks the silence with the following words addressed to\n Massieu:\n\n There is nothing for it ... give\n the executioner his orders!\n\n While the doctors who have entered during the preceding scene\n are attending to Joan,","accused. The judge continues:\n\n Do you not consider that these\n learned doctors are likely to be\n endowed with more wisdom than you\n ...\n\n89 Joan nods half absent-mindedly. The judge is pleased with his\n happy idea and is about to continue his course of instruction\n when Joan interrupts him:\n\n ... but the wisdom of God is even\n greater!\n\n The judge, who has spoken to Joan as one speaks to a child\n which stubbornly refuses to listen to reason, shrugs his\n shoulders and","has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\n aloud:\n\n In as much as you have at last\n renounced the error of your ways,\n we release you from excommunication\n from the Church ...\n\n Cauchon pauses for a moment. Joan stands before her judges\n with folded hands. A smile of gratitude is sketched on her\n face. She lowers her head to conceal her joy. Then Cauchon\n continues:\n\n","declare\n that it was only by using force\n that you made me confess.\n 24.\n\n\n96 Joan collapses. The executioner bends over her. She has\n fainted.\n\n97 The executioner and Massieu carry her out while the judges\n confer on what procedure to adopt next.\n\n98 THE PRISON\n\n Massieu has gone on ahead to notify Joan's keeper, who sends\n a man out with a message for Warwick. Massieu prepares Joan's","asking to die. He says\n in a friendly tone:\n\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\n front of everybody that you were\n misled by the Devil.\n\n Joan, who has gradually regained her self-control, does not\n answer immediately. It is only when the judges press her that\n she replies:\n\n Everything I said was for fear of\n the stake!\n\n Cauchon holds a whispered consultation with the others, but\n it is clear that they all regard it as wasted effort to\n","to torture. While the executioners are\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\n\n One instrument of torture after another is displayed for\n Joan's benefit. With an executioner at her side she is\n conducted past the various appliances. She looks at each one\n for a long time, trembling with fear. Occasionally the\n executioner demonstrates with a gesture how one of the\n instruments is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n ","ess by severity. The judges\n are overcome by a feeling which can almost be called\n irritation - irritation with Joan and what they call her pig-\n headedness.\n\n118 Jean d'Estivet reproaches her harshly for allowing her vanity\n to take precedence over the salvation of her soul. He\n concludes with these words:\n\n If you die in this hour, you die as\n an infidel...\n\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\n subjected,",", Lemaître and some of the other judges plot together.\n\n71 Lemaître leans forward and begins to question her:\n\n Has God promised you that you will\n go to Paradise?\n\n Joan knows instinctively that they have laid a trap for her.\n In her uncertainty she looks for help from Loiseleur, who\n indicates to her with a slight smile that she is to say yes.\n Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\n says"],["to the jailer and says with an air of\n entreaty:\n\n Oh, I am so tired ...\n\n The jailer mumbles something incomprehensible. Sympathy is\n not to be expected from this quarter. Joan feels like an\n outcast; it is hard to imagine a greater humiliation for a\n woman than to be shorn of her hair. And Joan is a woman.\n\n At last the cutting operation is concluded.\n 38.\n\n\n155 Joan gets up and sits on her bed",". She feels ashamed. What has\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\n\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\n it up onto a shovel. He glances","her.\n\n154 THE PRISON\n\n Joan is escorted in by the jailer. He makes her sit down on a\n stool and starts cutting off her hair. Joan is seized by a\n new and dispiriting fear. Although she is in pain, she\n manages to weep inaudibly, sobbing without a sound. When her\n weeping eases off for a moment she whispers:\n\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\n\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\n",":\n\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\n\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\n locks of hair fall on the ground. Joan weeps ceaselessly. The\n events in the churchyard pass in succession before her eyes,\n but now she sees them in relation to one another, from a new\n angle and with a sharper perception. She realizes that it is\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\n","\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\n it up onto a shovel. He glances round the cell to see if\n there is anything else he can sweep up while he is about it.\n His eye falls on the plaited straw crown, the martyr's crown,\n which has landed in a corner. Joan sees the broom gathering\n in the crown. That too! It is as if in this little incident\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\n has lost by","too! It is as if in this little incident\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\n has lost by her abjuration.\n\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,","is\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\n entreaty:\n\n Oh, I am so tired ...\n\n The jail","Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\n out.\n\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up","but it is\n clearly understood that he has the last word in the matter.\n They are considering what procedure to adopt. The point is to\n lose as little time as possible in getting Joan to compromise\n herself. Loiseleur propounds a scheme which receives general\n approval. Warwick is asked a question, which he answers in\n the affirmative. An order is given to a secretary, who at\n once leaves the chapel.\n\n48 THE PRISON\n\n Massieu has brought Joan back. The door closes behind her.\n Overcome","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","looks at\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\n\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\n away!\n\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\n\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\n appear before us ...\n\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\n the jailer. They lead Joan out",", who begins to question Joan\n about her dress:\n\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\n\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\n\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\n dress?\n\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\n secret, and says no to the","towards\n these men who are revealing their true feelings, now that\n they see her in such misery. She feels every confidence in\n them and in Cauchon. He has caused her great suffering; now,\n however, he appears no longer as a judge, but as one who has\n come to show her goodness and compassion. And when Cauchon\n strokes her hair and says:\n\n The Church is merciful ...\n\n Joan smiles trustfully.\n\n109 Cauchon continues:\n\n She does not close her heart\n","iously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up, turns it round in his\n hands, and finally places it on Joan's head. Outraged by this\n form of sacrilege, she removes it and puts it on the bed; but\n the soldier replaces the crown on her head, at the same time\n giving her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\n\n","ues the matter further:\n\n Did he have any hair on his head?\n\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground, smiles\n and answers with artless inspiration:\n\n Why should he have had it cut off?\n\n29 Cauchon sees that he will get nowhere with Joan by this\n method. He confers with those sitting nearest him and then\n gives way to the examining judge, who begins to question Joan\n about her dress:\n\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\n\n Joan refuses several times"," At last the cutting operation is concluded.\n 38.\n\n\n155 Joan gets up and sits on her bed. She is like somebody who is\n on the verge of collapse from lack of sleep, and who does\n mechanically whatever he is told. Unconsciously she raises\n her hands to her face, shudders and looks at her hands with\n dread, as if they were unclean. She feels ashamed. What has\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\n denial, of his","she sees\n only utter benevolence and charitableness. In addition, all\n the judges now seem full of affection and sympathy. They\n tiptoe round her bed, first one and then another coming close\n up to her. They tuck the blanket round her and touch the\n place where she has been bled. Some of them kneel and pray\n for Joan. She regrets not having been more amiable towards\n these men who are revealing their true feelings, now that\n they see her in such misery. She feels every confidence in\n them","from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\n\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\n a short prayer.\n\n4 THE CH"],[" ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n210 But the bystanders, who during these final scenes stand as if\n paralyzed by the fire and by Joan's cries, are seized by a\n mood compounded of fear and ecstasy. Outbursts of anger and\n indignation against the oppressors can already be heard. The\n English soldiers take up a threatening posture.\n\n211 The flames climb steadily higher.","up on\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is bound brutally to the\n stake.\n\n Ladvenu remains standing. During Joan's prayer he remains\n holding the crucifix in front of her, so that throughout she\n can see her Savior. When the executioner has secured Joan he\n descends. Ladvenu continues to speak words of comfort to\n Joan.\n\n All around her are now in tears. Loiseleur weeps. Even",", lets her head\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\n\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\n shouts:\n\n You have burnt a saint!\n\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\n\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\n falls in ashes. Joan'",".\n\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\n fuel is piled up on a foundation of stone. The post to which\n the victim is to be tied projects over the fuel. The\n intention is for thousands of people to witness with their\n own eyes that the Maid has really been burnt. A notice-board\n is fastened to the stake, with the following inscription:\n 'Heretic, Relapsed, Apostate, Idolatress.'\n\n Further away there is a platform for the judges",",\n number and fierceness, are now fanning round her.\n\n204 The rope binding her to the stake begins to burn.\n 47.\n\n\n205 Joan is frantic with terror:\n\n Jesus!\n\n she screams in her agony.\n\n206 The echo repeats her cry in the sad and silent square. The\n bystanders pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n","towards her; Christ who, like herself,\n is enveloped in smoke.\n\n196 Through the smoke she sees the executioner stirring the fire,\n\n197 And a soldier on his knees trying to get near enough to the\n bonfire to throw the martyr's crown on it.\n\n198 She also sees Massieu, who is sprinkling holy water on the\n bonfire from his stoup.\n\n199 Meanwhile the judges have risen. The clerics are not allowed\n to witness the actual execution,","ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n\n ... now and in our last hour.\n\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\n\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n","spite\n of the pain and terror she does not forget her Christ -\n indeed it is as if, with every second that passes, she is\n coming steadily closer to Him.\n\n Jesus!\n\n she begins to scream in her long death-struggle.\n\n202 The weeping crowds repeat the name of Jesus.\n\n203 Innumerable tongues of flame, growing constantly in size,\n number and fierceness, are now fanning round her.\n\n204 The rope binding her to the stake begins to burn","ressors can already be heard. The\n English soldiers take up a threatening posture.\n\n211 The flames climb steadily higher.\n\n212 The notice-board fastened over Joan's head goes up in flames\n and falls into the bonfire.\n\n213 A last vision is caught of Joan's face, contorted in terror.\n She pronounces once more the name of Jesus, lets her head\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\n bystanders, clenched fists are","venu continues to speak words of comfort to\n Joan.\n\n All around her are now in tears. Loiseleur weeps. Even\n Cauchon weeps. The executioner has made his final\n preparations.\n\n189 In his hand he holds the flaming torch which is to set the\n bonfire alight.\n\n190 Joan suddenly catches sight of the fire, but her first\n thought is not for herself: she thinks only of Ladvenu, who\n seems to have forgotten the danger he is exposed to. She"," her, lead her away.\n\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\n to many of those present as a vision from God. An old woman\n approaches, hands Joan a cup of milk, weeps and kneels. The\n poor child, who is herself in need of comfort, offers the\n woman such comfort as she can, but the English soldiers put\n an end to this scene.\n\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\n fuel is piled up on a foundation","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","first\n thought is not for herself: she thinks only of Ladvenu, who\n seems to have forgotten the danger he is exposed to. She\n shouts to him:\n\n The fire! Get down!\n\n191 But she implores him urgently to continue right up to the end\n holding the cross raised before her eyes.\n\n192 The flames crackle and climb higher.\n 46.\n\n\n193 Suddenly a deathly hush descends on the square. A dull\n silence. Only the","addressed to her, and she thinks\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\n completely.\n\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\n\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\n have been hurting intensely, bows","English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\n executioner to do his duty.\n\n187 Massieu returns with the processional cross. He shows it to\n Joan; she is inexpressibly happy as she takes it with both\n hands, kisses it with tears in her eyes, and addresses ardent\n prayers to it.\n\n188 Now her eye falls on the executioner, who has climbed up on\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is","one faggot to another ... they advance\n in little jumps over cavities and gaps in the fuel. Sparks\n fly, smoke whirls up; through the smoke, which occasionally\n conceals Joan, can be seen part of her\n\n195 Face, which is raised to heaven, and her mouth, which is\n whispering prayers. Then her eyes seek Christ, whom Ladvenu\n continues to hold up towards her; Christ who, like herself,\n is enveloped in smoke.\n\n196 Through the smoke she sees the executioner","she sees\n only utter benevolence and charitableness. In addition, all\n the judges now seem full of affection and sympathy. They\n tiptoe round her bed, first one and then another coming close\n up to her. They tuck the blanket round her and touch the\n place where she has been bled. Some of them kneel and pray\n for Joan. She regrets not having been more amiable towards\n these men who are revealing their true feelings, now that\n they see her in such misery. She feels every confidence in\n them","the English soldiers has heard Ladvenu's words to\n Massieu. He extracts two bits of wood from a faggot lying\n ready for the bonfire, and joins them so that they form a\n modest little cross.\n\n185 Joan, who has followed his movements, is touched. She takes\n the cross lovingly and reverently, and covers it with kisses.\n\n186 The English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\n executioner to do his duty.\n\n187 Massieu returns with the processional","scription:\n 'Heretic, Relapsed, Apostate, Idolatress.'\n\n Further away there is a platform for the judges and the\n English nobility; another is reserved for the preacher and\n for spectators.\n\n176 When Joan has taken her place at the stake one of the judges,\n Nicolas Midi, stands and begins his sermon:\n\n In the name of the Lord, amen!\n\n177 For Joan it is as if his voice has reached her from far away.\n She weeps"," 46.\n\n\n193 Suddenly a deathly hush descends on the square. A dull\n silence. Only the crackle of the flames and the mumbled\n prayers of the priests can be heard. Oppressed by this\n stillness, some of the spectators fall on their knees, and\n others follow their example. Many of them light wax candles.\n\n194 The flames leap from one faggot to another ... they advance\n in little jumps over cavities and gaps in the fuel. Sparks\n fly, smoke wh"],["Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\n out.\n\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up","looks at\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\n\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\n away!\n\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\n\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\n appear before us ...\n\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\n the jailer. They lead Joan out","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu","English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\n executioner to do his duty.\n\n187 Massieu returns with the processional cross. He shows it to\n Joan; she is inexpressibly happy as she takes it with both\n hands, kisses it with tears in her eyes, and addresses ardent\n prayers to it.\n\n188 Now her eye falls on the executioner, who has climbed up on\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is",". She feels ashamed. What has\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\n\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\n it up onto a shovel. He glances","ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n\n ... now and in our last hour.\n\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\n\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n","parapets of the\n bridge in the hope of seeing a tiny fragment of the\n unaccustomed spectacle.\n\n173 In between, scenes from the prison are shown. Joan is wearing\n a coat that comes down to her feet, which are bare. Her\n earlier calm seems to have disappeared. She prays and weeps\n incessantly. Ladvenu and Massieu, who have returned to fetch\n her, lead her away.\n\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\n to many of those","the English soldiers has heard Ladvenu's words to\n Massieu. He extracts two bits of wood from a faggot lying\n ready for the bonfire, and joins them so that they form a\n modest little cross.\n\n185 Joan, who has followed his movements, is touched. She takes\n the cross lovingly and reverently, and covers it with kisses.\n\n186 The English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\n executioner to do his duty.\n\n187 Massieu returns with the processional","iously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up, turns it round in his\n hands, and finally places it on Joan's head. Outraged by this\n form of sacrilege, she removes it and puts it on the bed; but\n the soldier replaces the crown on her head, at the same time\n giving her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\n\n","her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\n\n84 The other soldiers roar with laughter and say in mocking\n tones:\n\n She looks just like a daughter of\n God, eh?\n\n He takes an arrow from his quiver, and places it in Joan's\n hands. She lets him do this without resistance.\n 20.\n\n\n Another soldier takes a pitcher of water, and sprinkles Joan","orts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n English soldiers grow impatient, and one of their officers\n approaches the platform and says:\n\n Look here, priest, are you going to\n be all day?\n\n183 Ladvenu insists on his right to prepare the young woman for\n death. And he says to Massieu, who is bringing him a small\n missal:\n\n Joan wishes to have a cross with\n her","hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu's arm.\n\n152-3 THE GATEWAY LEADING INTO THE CASTLE YARD\n\n Joan meets the two soldiers who earlier maintained that she\n had made fools of her judges. They heap abuse upon her, and\n Massieu has to protect her.\n\n154 THE PRISON\n\n Joan is escorted in by the jailer. He makes her sit down on a","that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n His ways are not our ways!\n\n After a pause she adds:\n\n Yes, I am His child!\n\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\n\n And the great victory?\n 42.\n\n\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\n question. She answers:\n\n My martyr","in shouts of\n joy. But one or two English soldiers, who have seen Joan's\n smile, go up to her and shout at the priests around her:\n\n She has only made fools of you!\n\n The priests push them away. Cauchon, who has received the\n document, now gives a signal for Joan to come forward and\n hear her sentence of judgement.\n\n150 Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\n out:",", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\n earnestly to follow this advice.\n\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","6 Massieu has gone to fetch the Eucharist. A procession of\n priests, wearing surplices and stoles, and carrying lights in\n their hands, comes out of the chapel and goes in the\n direction of the castle yard, singing litanies.\n\n167 Everyone in the castle yard kneels; the women are in tears.\n To every entreaty the priests answer:\n\n Pray for her!\n\n168 Presently the procession arrives at Joan's cell, and she\n prepares to receive the","\n21 Disappointment on the judges' faces. Joan continues, with a\n strength which suddenly reveals a new side of her character,\n and turning towards the English soldiers:\n 6.\n\n\n But I know for certain that the\n English will all be driven out of\n France ...\n\n Commotion and protests among the soldiers: why should Joan be\n allowed to insult England? But Joan continues inflexibly:\n\n ... except for those who are going\n to die here!\n\n The soldiers are furious. They can no","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\n\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\n a short prayer.\n\n4 THE CH"],[" her, lead her away.\n\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\n to many of those present as a vision from God. An old woman\n approaches, hands Joan a cup of milk, weeps and kneels. The\n poor child, who is herself in need of comfort, offers the\n woman such comfort as she can, but the English soldiers put\n an end to this scene.\n\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\n fuel is piled up on a foundation","that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n His ways are not our ways!\n\n After a pause she adds:\n\n Yes, I am His child!\n\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\n\n And the great victory?\n 42.\n\n\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\n question. She answers:\n\n My martyr","bridge, which is then raised. Many fall\n victim to the soldiers' brutality or are trampled to death.\n\n217 The smoke rises in a column, concealing Joan.\n\n218 On Warwick's orders the executioner rakes through the fire.\n Normally no trace of Joan should remain - but what is this?\n Joan's heart is undamaged. He shows it to Warwick and pours\n oil on the flames, but still the heart will not catch fire.\n He tries in vain, with the help of sul","a\n whisper which is barely audible to anybody but herself she\n says:\n\n I have done no wrong ... I believe\n in the twelve articles of the Creed\n and in God's Ten Commandments!\n\n143 Even Erard's heart bleeds at the sight of such deep\n unhappiness. His tone changes, and his voice becomes almost\n syrupy as he says:\n\n Joan, we have great sympathy for\n you!\n 35.\n\n\n Warwick gives","her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\n\n84 The other soldiers roar with laughter and say in mocking\n tones:\n\n She looks just like a daughter of\n God, eh?\n\n He takes an arrow from his quiver, and places it in Joan's\n hands. She lets him do this without resistance.\n 20.\n\n\n Another soldier takes a pitcher of water, and sprinkles Joan","the\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\n\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\n Church is unable to protect you!\n\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\n\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\n\n Dear God, I accept my death\n willingly and gladly ...\n\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\n continues:\n\n ","orts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n English soldiers grow impatient, and one of their officers\n approaches the platform and says:\n\n Look here, priest, are you going to\n be all day?\n\n183 Ladvenu insists on his right to prepare the young woman for\n death. And he says to Massieu, who is bringing him a small\n missal:\n\n Joan wishes to have a cross with\n her","and is hidden by columns.\n At one point we see him in conversation with Loiseleur.\n\n15 Joan has sat down again, and the hearing begins. Cauchon asks\n Joan her name. She answers:\n\n At home I am called Jeannette ...\n Here they call me Joan!\n\n16 Cauchon asks her age. Joan thinks and counts on her fingers:\n\n Nineteen ... I think.\n\n17 Cauchon, after smiling to his neighbor, asks:\n\n Can you say Our Father?\n",", lets her head\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\n\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\n shouts:\n\n You have burnt a saint!\n\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\n\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\n falls in ashes. Joan'","ieu says:\n\n At the stake!\n\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\n\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\n Ladvenu says:\n\n How can you still believe that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n","Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\n out:\n\n Long live the Maid! ... Long live\n France!\n\n Two soldiers turn abruptly, force their way through the\n crowd, seize the unfortunate man who has given vent to his\n patriotic feelings, and lead him away.\n\n151 Joan has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\n aloud:\n\n","the bishop and says to him:\n\n We are treating this woman like an\n enemy - not like a human being on\n trial!\n\n37 Then he casts a look full of tenderness at Joan, who at this\n moment is drying her cheeks, still wet from Jean d'Estivet's\n spittle. Houppeville continues:\n\n For me she is a saint!\n\n He goes over to her, genuflects before her, and turns to go\n out through the door.\n\n38 Warwick has","from every throat.\n\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\n falls in ashes. Joan's body totters and sinks into the\n bonfire.\n 48.\n\n\n216 At a sign from Warwick the soldiers pursue the mob out of the\n castle yard with thrusts of their lances, through the gate\n and over the drawbridge, which is then raised. Many fall\n victim to the soldiers' brutality or are trampled to death.\n\n217 The","ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n\n ... now and in our last hour.\n\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\n\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","the ground he has won. He\n asks a new question:\n\n Was he naked?\n\n Every ear strains to hear the reply, for now Joan has to\n answer. And again she produces one of her brilliant, careful\n answers:\n\n Do you not believe that God would\n have clothes for him?\n\n28 Cauchon realizes that his stratagem has failed, but\n nevertheless he pursues the matter further:\n\n Did he have any hair on his head?\n\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground","Church advises her to sign\n she must do so. Once again she turns to Erard and asks him to\n tell her whether she must abjure. He answers:\n\n Either you sign - or you will go to\n the stake!\n\n and he points at the executioner, who at this moment\n approaches at a sign from Warwick. Now Joan understands the\n cruel death in store for her, and she is afraid. Jesus Christ\n also was afraid when He learned that His hour was come. Fear\n has overcome her spirit and is affecting her","to continue. He asks Joan:\n\n Has God promised you anything?\n\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\n him what it is that God has promised.\n\n Can you not tell us what it is that\n God has promised you?\n\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\n\n You must tell us.\n\n But Joan declines to answer:\n\n That has nothing to do with your\n","continues:\n\n There has never been a monster in\n France like the one which has\n appeared in the form of Joan.\n\n He pauses, leans towards her, and with a threatening gesture\n shouts at Joan:\n\n It is to you, Joan, I am talking...\n it is to you I say that your king\n is a heretic!\n 33.\n\n\n137 Now Joan turns towards him. She can withstand all his\n invective, when it is"],["is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","asking to die. He says\n in a friendly tone:\n\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\n front of everybody that you were\n misled by the Devil.\n\n Joan, who has gradually regained her self-control, does not\n answer immediately. It is only when the judges press her that\n she replies:\n\n Everything I said was for fear of\n the stake!\n\n Cauchon holds a whispered consultation with the others, but\n it is clear that they all regard it as wasted effort to\n","to continue. He asks Joan:\n\n Has God promised you anything?\n\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\n him what it is that God has promised.\n\n Can you not tell us what it is that\n God has promised you?\n\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\n\n You must tell us.\n\n But Joan declines to answer:\n\n That has nothing to do with your\n","immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\n do so.\n\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\n an inclination of the head and asks:\n\n You say that you are sent by God?\n\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\n\n To save France!\n\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\n the right","says with\n great emphasis:\n\n Suppose we were to tell you now\n that your visions did not - as you\n believe - come from God ...\n\n Joan looks up quickly, as if unable to believe her ears. She\n searches the faces of her judges, one after the other.\n Cauchon continues:\n\n ... but are sent to you by the\n Devil, who wants to bring your soul\n to perdition!\n\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\n across her face. Almost","Church advises her to sign\n she must do so. Once again she turns to Erard and asks him to\n tell her whether she must abjure. He answers:\n\n Either you sign - or you will go to\n the stake!\n\n and he points at the executioner, who at this moment\n approaches at a sign from Warwick. Now Joan understands the\n cruel death in store for her, and she is afraid. Jesus Christ\n also was afraid when He learned that His hour was come. Fear\n has overcome her spirit and is affecting her",", then continues:\n\n ... who has deceived you ...\n\n Then after another short pause:\n\n ... and betrayed you?\n\n While Cauchon has been speaking a change has come over Joan.\n It is clear that she is tormented by doubts. God has promised\n her that she will be set free. Why has God not kept his\n promise to her? Why does he let her stand alone against all\n these churchmen, these learned doctors? She even asks herself\n whether she has the right to talk as she does in front of all\n","pers to the others, letting them in on Loiseleur's plan.\n Then he approaches Joan and says to her in his mildest voice:\n 18.\n\n\n Joan, if you were allowed to go to\n Mass now ...\n\n Joan looks up at Cauchon. Her eyes are already gleaming with\n hope and expectation. Cauchon continues:\n\n ... would you consent to give up\n your men's clothes?\n\n When Joan hears this condition, her hope is extinguished as\n rapidly as",". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\n her king. God can hear her!\n\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\n which Loiseleur presents his questions",", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\n earnestly to follow this advice.\n\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the","Is she familiar with the secrets of the torture?\n Cauchon's threats make no impression on Joan.\n\n She feels safe with her God. Her face is transfigured by a\n beautiful light as she says:\n\n I would rather die than deny God's\n acts.\n\n Enraged by Joan's pig-headedness, Cauchon loses patience. He\n orders Joan to be put to torture. While the executioners are\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\n\n One instrument of torture after another is","ieu says:\n\n At the stake!\n\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\n\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\n Ladvenu says:\n\n How can you still believe that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n",", Lemaître and some of the other judges plot together.\n\n71 Lemaître leans forward and begins to question her:\n\n Has God promised you that you will\n go to Paradise?\n\n Joan knows instinctively that they have laid a trap for her.\n In her uncertainty she looks for help from Loiseleur, who\n indicates to her with a slight smile that she is to say yes.\n Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\n says","that he is, has no difficulty in\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am"," She is very weak...\n\n The two men exchange glances. Cauchon and the judges have\n come to extort a confession from Joan. 'whether because they\n were afraid of her escaping in this way and dying without\n having made a recantation, or because her weakened physical\n condition raised hopes of her soul being easier to purchase.'\n\n Cauchon explains to Warwick how he wants to proceed.\n Loiseleur joins in the discussion and proposes a drastic\n remedy. Cauchon approves Loise","goes back to the larger platform where he takes his\n place near Cauchon, who now gets up and declares the session\n opened.\n\n Joan, for the last time I order you\n to abjure. Are you willing to sign?\n\n Joan sits motionless and expressionless. She hears nothing,\n and smiles distantly.\n\n133 One of the prelates takes his place at Joan's side. He begins\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\n John's Gospel","Joan to say the Our Father. She\n refuses. Jean d'Estivet and Cauchon exchange glances. Cauchon\n tells her urgently to do his bidding, but Joan refuses again,\n for she is afraid that memories of her mother and her home in\n Domrémy are going to overwhelm her.\n\n Cauchon puts further pressure on her: she is to repeat the\n Our Father immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\n do so.\n\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness","other judges. Their expressions show\n that they are setting a new trap for Joan.\n\n20 Finally he says:\n\n So you believe that God hates the\n English?\n\n Joan does not immediately understand the question, and the\n examining judge has to repeat it. Then Joan gives one of her\n brilliant, inspired answers:\n\n I know not whether God loves or\n hates the English ...\n\n21 Disappointment on the judges' faces. Joan continues, with a\n strength which suddenly reveals a new side of her character,\n",", you die as\n an infidel...\n\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\n subjected, answers in words conjured up by her sancta\n simplicitas; but Jean d'Estivet, revelling in the pain his\n speech has given Joan, obliterates her with the wounding\n words, which sting like the lash of a whip:\n\n Your soul is doomed to perdition\n ...\n\n To which one of the others adds:\n\n ... to everlast"],["that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n His ways are not our ways!\n\n After a pause she adds:\n\n Yes, I am His child!\n\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\n\n And the great victory?\n 42.\n\n\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\n question. She answers:\n\n My martyr","immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\n do so.\n\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\n an inclination of the head and asks:\n\n You say that you are sent by God?\n\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\n\n To save France!\n\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\n the right","to continue. He asks Joan:\n\n Has God promised you anything?\n\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\n him what it is that God has promised.\n\n Can you not tell us what it is that\n God has promised you?\n\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\n\n You must tell us.\n\n But Joan declines to answer:\n\n That has nothing to do with your\n","ieu says:\n\n At the stake!\n\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\n\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\n Ladvenu says:\n\n How can you still believe that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n","lonely and unhappy.\n She has no doubt that it is God who sends her solace and\n encouragement in this way. She dries her eyes and produces\n from a hiding-place a piece of handiwork, with which she\n occupies her hands and her thoughts when she is not before\n the judges. It is a crown of plaited straw - very simple,\n pretty and childlike. Soon she is completely absorbed in this\n work, to which she devotes all her love. We see the Joan from\n Domrémy who 'is second to no woman","says with\n great emphasis:\n\n Suppose we were to tell you now\n that your visions did not - as you\n believe - come from God ...\n\n Joan looks up quickly, as if unable to believe her ears. She\n searches the faces of her judges, one after the other.\n Cauchon continues:\n\n ... but are sent to you by the\n Devil, who wants to bring your soul\n to perdition!\n\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\n across her face. Almost","God put me there!\n And if I am, may God so keep me!\n\n77 Joan has broken the chain of beaters. She realizes this and\n smiles. But her judges, who have sat there greedily waiting\n for the prey to fall into the net so that they can hurl\n themselves on it - these judges now sit not knowing what to\n say or where to look. They gaze at each other in speechless\n amazement. Some of them unconsciously make the sign of the\n cross. Loiseleur is beyond doubt the most discon","trial has been unanimously agreed, she\n is obliged to answer. He repeats his question:\n\n What has God promised you?\n\n Joan does not answer.\n\n44 Cauchon continues:\n\n Has God promised you that you will\n be released from your prison?\n\n Joan confirms this with a nod. Dalleu speaks in a low voice\n to Cauchon, who asks:\n\n When?\n\n After sitting for a while, lost in thought, Joan answers:\n\n I do not know the day","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She",".\n\n68 Lemaître continues with the hearing:\n\n Has God told you that you will be\n released from your prison?\n\n Joan smiles and gives Loiseleur a secret, confidential\n glance. His eyes gleam back at her in complicity. She\n answers:\n\n Yes ... and by means of a great\n victory!\n\n69 The judges are astonished and cross-examine her. They ask her\n to explain precisely what she knows, and how she has come to\n know it. But Joan answers:\n\n","He orders those who consider that it has to raise their\n hands. Nearly every hand goes up. Then it is the turn of\n those who take the opposite view. Ladvenu is the only one to\n raise his hand, but when he sees that he is entirely alone he\n takes it down again.\n\n43 And Cauchon is able to say to Joan that, since the relevance\n of the question to the trial has been unanimously agreed, she\n is obliged to answer. He repeats his question:\n\n What has God promised you?",", then continues:\n\n ... who has deceived you ...\n\n Then after another short pause:\n\n ... and betrayed you?\n\n While Cauchon has been speaking a change has come over Joan.\n It is clear that she is tormented by doubts. God has promised\n her that she will be set free. Why has God not kept his\n promise to her? Why does he let her stand alone against all\n these churchmen, these learned doctors? She even asks herself\n whether she has the right to talk as she does in front of all\n","\n thoughts and remains silent. She looks in the direction of\n Loiseleur, who is apparently absorbed in his own reflection.\n He is abandoning her to her fate. In his view she is a\n certain prey; whether she answers yes or no, she is doomed to\n perdition. But now that Joan has collected her thoughts\n again, she gives this admirable answer:\n\n If I am not, may God put me there!\n And if I am, may God so keep me!\n\n77 Joan has broken the chain of beaters.",", Lemaître and some of the other judges plot together.\n\n71 Lemaître leans forward and begins to question her:\n\n Has God promised you that you will\n go to Paradise?\n\n Joan knows instinctively that they have laid a trap for her.\n In her uncertainty she looks for help from Loiseleur, who\n indicates to her with a slight smile that she is to say yes.\n Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\n says"," 8.\n\n\n31 An indication that another trap is being prepared. Then one\n of the judges says:\n\n So it is God who has commanded you\n to go about in men's clothes?\n\n Joan answers unhesitatingly:\n\n Yes!\n\n A smile of triumph spreads from face to face among Joan's\n judges.\n\n32 The Promoter, Jean d'Estivet, complacently makes some notes.\n Then he leans forward over his desk, smiles and asks in an","the\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\n\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\n Church is unable to protect you!\n\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\n\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\n\n Dear God, I accept my death\n willingly and gladly ...\n\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\n continues:\n\n ","orts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n English soldiers grow impatient, and one of their officers\n approaches the platform and says:\n\n Look here, priest, are you going to\n be all day?\n\n183 Ladvenu insists on his right to prepare the young woman for\n death. And he says to Massieu, who is bringing him a small\n missal:\n\n Joan wishes to have a cross with\n her"," ... alone ...\n\n But a heavenly light shines from Joan's face. She smiles.\n With her eyes raised to heaven she says:\n\n ... alone - with God!\n\n95 Cauchon, realizing that his prey is about to escape him,\n increases his exertions and displays all his powers of\n persuasion. Does she know that the Church has the means to\n compel her? Is she familiar with the secrets of the torture?\n Cauchon's threats make no impression on Joan.\n\n She feels safe with her","him do this without resistance.\n 20.\n\n\n Another soldier takes a pitcher of water, and sprinkles Joan\n with his fingers. All three bow low before her as if she was\n a saint, and finally kneel and say:\n\n Saint Joan, pray for us!\n\n Then, still bowing, they step back and go out.\n\n Joan sits for a moment by herself. Without changing her\n position she prays silently to God. She is praying to the\n Almighty for strength and courage to end","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then"],["ur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\n\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\n Charles, the King, hereby informs\n you that he is preparing to advance\n on Rouen with a mighty army. He is\n sending you a faithful priest, who\n will stand by you. Have confidence\n in him.\n\n The reflection of an inner joy shines in her eyes. Her face\n lights up during the reading and she smiles. Loiseleur does\n not move from the spot. He stands watching her, motionless\n ","and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\n spectators is at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the","\n\n Would you recognize your King's\n signature?\n\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\n visit. From his cowl he produces a letter which he hands to\n Joan. She takes it. She shows with a smile that she\n recognizes Charles VII's signature. Then she returns the\n letter and says:\n\n I can't read!\n\n61 Loiseleur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\n\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\n Charles, the King, hereby inform","that he is, has no difficulty in\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am","the hiding-\n place; he is perfectly aware of its existence. When he\n reaches the chink, he and Cauchon look at each other. First\n Cauchon's serious eye is shown through the chink, then -\n likewise through the chink - Loiseleur's small, cunning,\n contracted eye. Loiseleur catches sight of the crown and\n says:\n\n Your martyr's crown.\n\n Then he turns to Joan, who is still sitting with the King's\n letter in her hands.","While he is thus occupied, Massieu enters. He is an engaging\n young man of twenty-five, healthy, vivacious and open; he\n radiates youth, health and life. He remains standing by the\n door until the others have left the cell. The jailer, who\n goes out last, certifies that the prisoner is the Maid. The\n door closes behind the jailer. And now that Massieu is alone\n with this woman, whom he has heard described as a dangerous\n witch and an object of fear - he is afraid. He prays\n ","Go and fetch the judges ... I take\n back ... I regret ... I have lied\n ...\n\n She looks at him with tear-stained eyes and gives him a push\n to make him go and tell the prelates. She is seized by a\n deadly fear, she is terrified that a new fit of weakness will\n master her before she can put into effect the decision she\n has just made. She knows that this decision will probably\n lead to her death, but this she feels strong enough to meet.\n And now that the first step has been taken she","to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness to sign. A judge holds\n the document out to her, but Joan thrusts it away so\n violently that it falls on the ground. Somebody picks it up.\n And Joan says vehemently:\n\n ... and if I should confess\n anything, I will afterwards declare\n that it was only by using force\n that you made me confess.\n 24.\n\n\n96",":\n\n I alone am responsible for\n everything that I have said and\n done ...\n\n Joan draws a deep breath before continuing. All those\n standing round her gaze at her expectantly. Then she says:\n\n ... If have done any wrong, I am to\n blame, and nobody else!\n\n140 She sits down calmly. Erard, however, is almost inclined to\n interpret her words as a declaration that she is now ready to\n recognize the error of her ways. He leans forward towards the\n not","a\n whisper which is barely audible to anybody but herself she\n says:\n\n I have done no wrong ... I believe\n in the twelve articles of the Creed\n and in God's Ten Commandments!\n\n143 Even Erard's heart bleeds at the sight of such deep\n unhappiness. His tone changes, and his voice becomes almost\n syrupy as he says:\n\n Joan, we have great sympathy for\n you!\n 35.\n\n\n Warwick gives","Your martyr's crown.\n\n Then he turns to Joan, who is still sitting with the King's\n letter in her hands. He offers to hear her confession.\n\n64 She turns to him with a look of joy, hardly daring to believe\n in this happiness. She drops a pretty curtsy, then kneels\n with folded hands in a charming attitude suggestive of a\n penitent child. He advises her strongly to speak to him with\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\n her king.","fails to notice this,\n absorbed as she is in wondering why this prelate has come to\n visit her. Loiseleur, who has now come right up to Joan,\n hands her the ring, which she receives gratefully. Then she\n again fixes her look of enquiry on the prelate, whom she has\n previously seen among her judges.\n\n60 Finally he says to her in a low whisper:\n\n Would you recognize your King's\n signature?\n\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\n visit.","too! It is as if in this little incident\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\n has lost by her abjuration.\n\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,","her hand and imagines that she\n is caressing them. But when she looks in the other direction,\n her eye falls on two gravediggers who are engaged in opening\n up an old grave. She sees the worms swarming in the skulls\n which are thrown up, and she is filled with the fear of\n death. Once more she ponders over the words which the members\n of the judicial body have addressed to her, and she thinks\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\n completely.\n\n1","at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the excitement is palpable.\n People seem to be afraid of her dying.\n\n147 But Joan is like somebody who has escaped from a great\n danger, whose relief now finds expression in a tremendous\n joy, almost resembling gaiety.\n 36.\n\n\n148 She draws a circle, explaining as she does so that she is\n unable to write. But this is not","28.\n\n\n111 The judges in the cell send up a prayer of thanks to God for\n restoring this lost sheep to the fold. Joan smiles happily.\n\n Then the notary places a document in front of Joan and offers\n her a pen. Joan looks in amazement at the document, which she\n recognizes: it is the same declaration which was placed in\n front of her for her to sign during the torture scene. Her\n look of astonishment shifts from the notary to the document\n and from the latter to Cauchon.\n\n","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","must sign. One of the judges\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\n lies on Joan's face as she sits there, sick, feverish and\n racked with doubts. On one side she sees the wafer, which is\n more precious to her than life itself, on the other side the\n document, which will make her confess that she is an agent of\n the Devil.\n\n114 As if talking to herself and her conscience, she says:\n\n I am a good Christian ...\n\n As she sits","that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am guilty of\n the crimes with which I am charged,\n and which the Devil has misled me\n into committing. I confess that my\n visions are the work of the Devil,\n and I am ready to return to the\n path of truth and, before all the\n world, to recant ...\n\n94 When the notary has finished reading aloud, Cauchon tells\n Joan warning","is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness"],["ur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\n\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\n Charles, the King, hereby informs\n you that he is preparing to advance\n on Rouen with a mighty army. He is\n sending you a faithful priest, who\n will stand by you. Have confidence\n in him.\n\n The reflection of an inner joy shines in her eyes. Her face\n lights up during the reading and she smiles. Loiseleur does\n not move from the spot. He stands watching her, motionless\n ","'s\n eyes well over with tears. He is afraid he will be unable to\n stifle his emotion and withdraws.\n\n170 The solemn ceremony is over. The monks leave.\n\n171 The jailer comes in with a coat which Joan is to wear.\n 43.\n\n\n172 Meanwhile rumors are circulating among the crowd in the area\n behind the churchyard that Joan has withdrawn her abjuration.\n Now they set out in swarms for the castle, pressing over the","Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\n out.\n\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up","and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\n spectators is at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the","\n Ladvenu gives Loiseleur a look of hostility.\n\n100 THE PRISON\n\n Joan is lying on her wretched bed. The chains, the brutal\n soldiers, terror, fatigue, and finally the torture have\n exhausted her strength. She is unrecognizable. Her face is as\n white as a sheet. Deep shadows under her eyes. When the scene\n opens, she is lying in a feverish doze. She breathes rapidly\n and with difficulty.\n\n A soldier with a hard, repellent face is","really going to\n torture Joan? But a look from Cauchon prevents him from\n saying anything. He goes out through the door, giving Joan a\n look of compassion as he does so.\n\n82 The soldiers, who have witnessed the examination, escort him\n out, and in the ante-room they reproach and abuse him:\n\n Why did you make signs to her and\n give her good advice?\n\n They threaten to throw him into the Seine if this happens\n again.\n\n83 THE PRISON\n\n ","too! It is as if in this little incident\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\n has lost by her abjuration.\n\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,","is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu","addressed to her, and she thinks\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\n completely.\n\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\n\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\n have been hurting intensely, bows","but it is\n clearly understood that he has the last word in the matter.\n They are considering what procedure to adopt. The point is to\n lose as little time as possible in getting Joan to compromise\n herself. Loiseleur propounds a scheme which receives general\n approval. Warwick is asked a question, which he answers in\n the affirmative. An order is given to a secretary, who at\n once leaves the chapel.\n\n48 THE PRISON\n\n Massieu has brought Joan back. The door closes behind her.\n Overcome","pers to the others, letting them in on Loiseleur's plan.\n Then he approaches Joan and says to her in his mildest voice:\n 18.\n\n\n Joan, if you were allowed to go to\n Mass now ...\n\n Joan looks up at Cauchon. Her eyes are already gleaming with\n hope and expectation. Cauchon continues:\n\n ... would you consent to give up\n your men's clothes?\n\n When Joan hears this condition, her hope is extinguished as\n rapidly as","looks at\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\n\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\n away!\n\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\n\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\n appear before us ...\n\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\n the jailer. They lead Joan out",". She feels ashamed. What has\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\n\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\n it up onto a shovel. He glances","at Joan's side. He begins\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\n John's Gospel: 'The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except\n it abide in the vine.' Inspiring terror at one moment,\n speaking sanctimoniously the next, he warns, he threatens, he\n implores, he mocks, he calls her a cunning traitor, cruel,\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\n measure with his words and finally reaches a",":\n\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\n\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\n locks of hair fall on the ground. Joan weeps ceaselessly. The\n events in the churchyard pass in succession before her eyes,\n but now she sees them in relation to one another, from a new\n angle and with a sharper perception. She realizes that it is\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\n","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","her.\n\n154 THE PRISON\n\n Joan is escorted in by the jailer. He makes her sit down on a\n stool and starts cutting off her hair. Joan is seized by a\n new and dispiriting fear. Although she is in pain, she\n manages to weep inaudibly, sobbing without a sound. When her\n weeping eases off for a moment she whispers:\n\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\n\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\n","document to the other.\n\n56 THE PRISON\n\n The soldier comes in with Joan's food, followed by the dog.\n Two other soldiers appear in the door, for these rascals\n never lose an opportunity of tormenting their victim. As the\n soldier hands Joan the food, his eye falls on her ring. He\n demands it from her, but she implores him to let her keep it:\n it is her mother's ring. But the soldier is determined to\n have it, even if he has to use force. He calls to",", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\n earnestly to follow this advice.\n\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the"],["is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness",", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\n earnestly to follow this advice.\n\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the","must sign. One of the judges\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\n lies on Joan's face as she sits there, sick, feverish and\n racked with doubts. On one side she sees the wafer, which is\n more precious to her than life itself, on the other side the\n document, which will make her confess that she is an agent of\n the Devil.\n\n114 As if talking to herself and her conscience, she says:\n\n I am a good Christian ...\n\n As she sits","Church advises her to sign\n she must do so. Once again she turns to Erard and asks him to\n tell her whether she must abjure. He answers:\n\n Either you sign - or you will go to\n the stake!\n\n and he points at the executioner, who at this moment\n approaches at a sign from Warwick. Now Joan understands the\n cruel death in store for her, and she is afraid. Jesus Christ\n also was afraid when He learned that His hour was come. Fear\n has overcome her spirit and is affecting her","too! It is as if in this little incident\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\n has lost by her abjuration.\n\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,","and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\n spectators is at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the","not a great\n blessing?\n\n Joan nods, and her expression seems to want to say: of\n course, everybody knows that the Church has no greater\n treasure.\n\n Cauchon continues:\n\n ... But you will never share in the\n Church's blessings, if you do not\n expiate your sins.\n\n113 He indicates to Joan that she must sign. One of the judges\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\n lies on Joan's face as she","is\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\n entreaty:\n\n Oh, I am so tired ...\n\n The jail","that he is, has no difficulty in\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am","114 As if talking to herself and her conscience, she says:\n\n I am a good Christian ...\n\n As she sits there, alone with all these men, she is the\n picture of utter despair and loneliness. They all gaze at her\n with fixed stares. Nobody speaks to her. Finally Cauchon\n breaks the silence. In a quiet voice he advises Joan to sign\n and save her soul; but Joan has now mastered her temptation.\n She hands back the paper. Her body is broken. But the\n strength of her","\n 34.\n\n\n Joan does not understand what this means. What is the meaning\n of 'abjure'? She turns to Erard to ask his advice.\n\n Explain it to her!\n\n Erard orders Massieu. The latter asks to be excused, but\n after glancing at Erard he does not dare to insist, and is\n obliged to advise Joan of the danger she will incur by\n refusing. He says to her:\n\n If you do not sign you will be\n ","to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness to sign. A judge holds\n the document out to her, but Joan thrusts it away so\n violently that it falls on the ground. Somebody picks it up.\n And Joan says vehemently:\n\n ... and if I should confess\n anything, I will afterwards declare\n that it was only by using force\n that you made me confess.\n 24.\n\n\n96","28.\n\n\n111 The judges in the cell send up a prayer of thanks to God for\n restoring this lost sheep to the fold. Joan smiles happily.\n\n Then the notary places a document in front of Joan and offers\n her a pen. Joan looks in amazement at the document, which she\n recognizes: it is the same declaration which was placed in\n front of her for her to sign during the torture scene. Her\n look of astonishment shifts from the notary to the document\n and from the latter to Cauchon.\n\n"," She is very weak...\n\n The two men exchange glances. Cauchon and the judges have\n come to extort a confession from Joan. 'whether because they\n were afraid of her escaping in this way and dying without\n having made a recantation, or because her weakened physical\n condition raised hopes of her soul being easier to purchase.'\n\n Cauchon explains to Warwick how he wants to proceed.\n Loiseleur joins in the discussion and proposes a drastic\n remedy. Cauchon approves Loise","hand.\n\n Cauchon threatens her:\n\n ... but if you do not sign, the\n Church will turn her back on you\n and you will stand alone ...\n 23.\n\n\n Joan's crisis is over. Once again she sees clearly the path\n she must follow. Quietly she puts away the pen. Cauchon sees\n this and thunders:\n\n ... alone ...\n\n But a heavenly light shines from Joan's face. She smiles.\n With her eyes raised to heaven she","that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am guilty of\n the crimes with which I am charged,\n and which the Devil has misled me\n into committing. I confess that my\n visions are the work of the Devil,\n and I am ready to return to the\n path of truth and, before all the\n world, to recant ...\n\n94 When the notary has finished reading aloud, Cauchon tells\n Joan warning","her expression. The\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\n executioner rises up before her, she surrenders.\n\n146 She casts a frightened glance at her surroundings; then she\n slowly kneels and bows her head. Sommaire seizes the document\n which has been placed in front of Joan for her signature and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in","auchon cuts him short and\n orders the hearing to continue.\n\n73 Lemaître presents his next question, which is only one link\n in a chain of questions carefully prepared and ingeniously\n related:\n\n Since you are so certain of your\n salvation ... why do you need to go\n to confession?\n\n Joan is already floundering in the net. She has the feeling\n that her answer may decide her destiny. She is like a hunted\n animal that looks for the smallest gap in the chain of\n beaters in the",". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\n her king. God can hear her!\n\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\n which Loiseleur presents his questions","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu"],["to the jailer and says with an air of\n entreaty:\n\n Oh, I am so tired ...\n\n The jailer mumbles something incomprehensible. Sympathy is\n not to be expected from this quarter. Joan feels like an\n outcast; it is hard to imagine a greater humiliation for a\n woman than to be shorn of her hair. And Joan is a woman.\n\n At last the cutting operation is concluded.\n 38.\n\n\n155 Joan gets up and sits on her bed","her.\n\n154 THE PRISON\n\n Joan is escorted in by the jailer. He makes her sit down on a\n stool and starts cutting off her hair. Joan is seized by a\n new and dispiriting fear. Although she is in pain, she\n manages to weep inaudibly, sobbing without a sound. When her\n weeping eases off for a moment she whispers:\n\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\n\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\n",". She feels ashamed. What has\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\n\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\n it up onto a shovel. He glances","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\n out.\n\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up","Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\n\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\n her eyes:\n\n Where will I be tonight?\n\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n ","addressed to her, and she thinks\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\n completely.\n\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\n\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\n have been hurting intensely, bows","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","iously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up, turns it round in his\n hands, and finally places it on Joan's head. Outraged by this\n form of sacrilege, she removes it and puts it on the bed; but\n the soldier replaces the crown on her head, at the same time\n giving her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\n\n","from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\n\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\n a short prayer.\n\n4 THE CH",", who begins to question Joan\n about her dress:\n\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\n\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\n\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\n dress?\n\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\n secret, and says no to the","the\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\n\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\n Church is unable to protect you!\n\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\n\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\n\n Dear God, I accept my death\n willingly and gladly ...\n\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\n continues:\n\n ","\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\n it up onto a shovel. He glances round the cell to see if\n there is anything else he can sweep up while he is about it.\n His eye falls on the plaited straw crown, the martyr's crown,\n which has landed in a corner. Joan sees the broom gathering\n in the crown. That too! It is as if in this little incident\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\n has lost by","her expression. The\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\n executioner rises up before her, she surrenders.\n\n146 She casts a frightened glance at her surroundings; then she\n slowly kneels and bows her head. Sommaire seizes the document\n which has been placed in front of Joan for her signature and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in","ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n\n ... now and in our last hour.\n\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\n\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n","is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness","\n with this woman, whom he has heard described as a dangerous\n witch and an object of fear - he is afraid. He prays\n inaudibly and crosses himself. He has brought with him a\n small stoup and aspergillum, and as he stands by the door he\n sprinkles Joan eagerly with holy water. Joan, who has dragged\n herself over to the boards which serve as her bed, looks at\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\n\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\n"," At last the cutting operation is concluded.\n 38.\n\n\n155 Joan gets up and sits on her bed. She is like somebody who is\n on the verge of collapse from lack of sleep, and who does\n mechanically whatever he is told. Unconsciously she raises\n her hands to her face, shudders and looks at her hands with\n dread, as if they were unclean. She feels ashamed. What has\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\n denial, of his","the ground he has won. He\n asks a new question:\n\n Was he naked?\n\n Every ear strains to hear the reply, for now Joan has to\n answer. And again she produces one of her brilliant, careful\n answers:\n\n Do you not believe that God would\n have clothes for him?\n\n28 Cauchon realizes that his stratagem has failed, but\n nevertheless he pursues the matter further:\n\n Did he have any hair on his head?\n\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground","ues the matter further:\n\n Did he have any hair on his head?\n\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground, smiles\n and answers with artless inspiration:\n\n Why should he have had it cut off?\n\n29 Cauchon sees that he will get nowhere with Joan by this\n method. He confers with those sitting nearest him and then\n gives way to the examining judge, who begins to question Joan\n about her dress:\n\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\n\n Joan refuses several times"],[", lets her head\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\n\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\n shouts:\n\n You have burnt a saint!\n\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\n\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\n falls in ashes. Joan'","the bishop and says to him:\n\n We are treating this woman like an\n enemy - not like a human being on\n trial!\n\n37 Then he casts a look full of tenderness at Joan, who at this\n moment is drying her cheeks, still wet from Jean d'Estivet's\n spittle. Houppeville continues:\n\n For me she is a saint!\n\n He goes over to her, genuflects before her, and turns to go\n out through the door.\n\n38 Warwick has","in shouts of\n joy. But one or two English soldiers, who have seen Joan's\n smile, go up to her and shout at the priests around her:\n\n She has only made fools of you!\n\n The priests push them away. Cauchon, who has received the\n document, now gives a signal for Joan to come forward and\n hear her sentence of judgement.\n\n150 Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\n out:","ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n\n ... now and in our last hour.\n\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\n\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n","Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\n out.\n\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up","'s answer, the preacher\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\n\n Make her be quiet!\n\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\n little scene.\n\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's","up on\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is bound brutally to the\n stake.\n\n Ladvenu remains standing. During Joan's prayer he remains\n holding the crucifix in front of her, so that throughout she\n can see her Savior. When the executioner has secured Joan he\n descends. Ladvenu continues to speak words of comfort to\n Joan.\n\n All around her are now in tears. Loiseleur weeps. Even","scription:\n 'Heretic, Relapsed, Apostate, Idolatress.'\n\n Further away there is a platform for the judges and the\n English nobility; another is reserved for the preacher and\n for spectators.\n\n176 When Joan has taken her place at the stake one of the judges,\n Nicolas Midi, stands and begins his sermon:\n\n In the name of the Lord, amen!\n\n177 For Joan it is as if his voice has reached her from far away.\n She weeps"," ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n210 But the bystanders, who during these final scenes stand as if\n paralyzed by the fire and by Joan's cries, are seized by a\n mood compounded of fear and ecstasy. Outbursts of anger and\n indignation against the oppressors can already be heard. The\n English soldiers take up a threatening posture.\n\n211 The flames climb steadily higher.","Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\n\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\n her eyes:\n\n Where will I be tonight?\n\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n ","ently before the\n imagined saint. She gets up again, while the judges talk\n together.\n\n24 Cauchon continues:\n\n In what form did he reveal himself?\n\n Joan does not immediately grasp the question. Half the judges\n shout to one another.\n\n Hundreds of questions fly across the room: Did he have wings?\n Was his head like an ordinary man's? Was he wearing a crown?\n Under this deluge of questions Joan makes a movement as if to\n say that she cannot answer them all at once.\n\n","addressed to her, and she thinks\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\n completely.\n\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\n\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\n have been hurting intensely, bows","\n\n\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\n question. She answers:\n\n My martyrdom ...\n\n Ladvenu nods. He looks at her as at a saint descended from\n heaven. Yet he cannot refrain from asking one more question:\n\n And your release?\n\n Joan answers with a look of ecstasy in her eyes:\n\n ... Death ... !\n\n Her purity and the sincerity of her faith in God are almost\n dazzling to Ladvenu","ieu says:\n\n At the stake!\n\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\n\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\n Ladvenu says:\n\n How can you still believe that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n","hand.\n\n Cauchon threatens her:\n\n ... but if you do not sign, the\n Church will turn her back on you\n and you will stand alone ...\n 23.\n\n\n Joan's crisis is over. Once again she sees clearly the path\n she must follow. Quietly she puts away the pen. Cauchon sees\n this and thunders:\n\n ... alone ...\n\n But a heavenly light shines from Joan's face. She smiles.\n With her eyes raised to heaven she","is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness",", you die as\n an infidel...\n\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\n subjected, answers in words conjured up by her sancta\n simplicitas; but Jean d'Estivet, revelling in the pain his\n speech has given Joan, obliterates her with the wounding\n words, which sting like the lash of a whip:\n\n Your soul is doomed to perdition\n ...\n\n To which one of the others adds:\n\n ... to everlast",",\n number and fierceness, are now fanning round her.\n\n204 The rope binding her to the stake begins to burn.\n 47.\n\n\n205 Joan is frantic with terror:\n\n Jesus!\n\n she screams in her agony.\n\n206 The echo repeats her cry in the sad and silent square. The\n bystanders pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n","looks at\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\n\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\n away!\n\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\n\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\n appear before us ...\n\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\n the jailer. They lead Joan out","from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\n\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\n a short prayer.\n\n4 THE CH"],[", you die as\n an infidel...\n\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\n subjected, answers in words conjured up by her sancta\n simplicitas; but Jean d'Estivet, revelling in the pain his\n speech has given Joan, obliterates her with the wounding\n words, which sting like the lash of a whip:\n\n Your soul is doomed to perdition\n ...\n\n To which one of the others adds:\n\n ... to everlast","soul\n to perdition!\n\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\n across her face. Almost unconsciously she shakes her head -\n and smiles again. Assuredly the Devil has no power over her\n and is not going to obtain it either.\n\n91 One of the judges asks:\n\n If the Devil appeared in the form\n of an angel, how could you be\n certain whether it was a good or a\n bad angel?\n\n For a moment the smile fades from Joan'","Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\n\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\n her eyes:\n\n Where will I be tonight?\n\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n ",", lets her head\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\n\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\n shouts:\n\n You have burnt a saint!\n\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\n\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\n falls in ashes. Joan'","my soul!\n\n She remains sitting in the same position; her look conveys\n the impression that she can see into the furthest corner of\n heaven.\n\n34 But Jean d'Estivet is incapable of controlling himself. He\n gets up, goes right up to her, spits in her face and hisses:\n\n Do you not understand that what you\n are saying is blasphemy?\n\n Then he goes back to his place. But on Joan's face there\n lingers the expression of one who is far removed from","the\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\n\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\n Church is unable to protect you!\n\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\n\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\n\n Dear God, I accept my death\n willingly and gladly ...\n\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\n continues:\n\n "," Your soul is doomed to perdition\n ...\n\n To which one of the others adds:\n\n ... to everlasting torture in the\n flames of Hell!\n\n119 Groaning under the burden of the injustice and malice they\n are heaping on her, Joan turns for comfort to Cauchon, whose\n hand she has just pressed to her cheek; but Cauchon has no\n comfort to give. He draws back and says coldly:\n\n Joan, you are a child of the Devil!\n","ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n\n ... now and in our last hour.\n\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\n\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n","soul; but Joan has now mastered her temptation.\n She hands back the paper. Her body is broken. But the\n strength of her spirit is unaltered.\n\n For a moment they are all struck dumb.\n\n115 Cauchon gestures, ordering the Sacrament to be carried out.\n The tears run down Joan's cheeks, when she sees the priests\n going out with the sacred vessel.\n 29.\n\n\n I love God ... I love Him with all\n my heart!\n\n","is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness","too! It is as if in this little incident\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\n has lost by her abjuration.\n\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","is\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\n entreaty:\n\n Oh, I am so tired ...\n\n The jail","at Joan's side. He begins\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\n John's Gospel: 'The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except\n it abide in the vine.' Inspiring terror at one moment,\n speaking sanctimoniously the next, he warns, he threatens, he\n implores, he mocks, he calls her a cunning traitor, cruel,\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\n measure with his words and finally reaches a","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","6 Massieu has gone to fetch the Eucharist. A procession of\n priests, wearing surplices and stoles, and carrying lights in\n their hands, comes out of the chapel and goes in the\n direction of the castle yard, singing litanies.\n\n167 Everyone in the castle yard kneels; the women are in tears.\n To every entreaty the priests answer:\n\n Pray for her!\n\n168 Presently the procession arrives at Joan's cell, and she\n prepares to receive the",":\n\n Now ... already?\n\n Ladvenu, struggling with the tears which are muffling his\n voice, answers yes. Another long, long silence. Then Joan\n asks, almost as if fearing the answer:\n\n What kind of death?\n\n Ladvenu, choked by his feelings, is unable to speak. He makes\n a sign for Massieu to answer on his behalf. Massieu says:\n\n At the stake!\n\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\n there","has no\n comfort to give. He draws back and says coldly:\n\n Joan, you are a child of the Devil!\n\n120 She looks at him in unaffected terror. Then it is as if a\n veil gradually falls from her eyes; as if the whole truth is\n revealed to her in a flash of lightning. They have lied to\n her in order to trap her. In her overwrought and exhausted\n condition she loses all self-control. Fever and ecstasy take\n charge of her features. As a stream",". She feels ashamed. What has\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\n\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\n it up onto a shovel. He glances","bridge, which is then raised. Many fall\n victim to the soldiers' brutality or are trampled to death.\n\n217 The smoke rises in a column, concealing Joan.\n\n218 On Warwick's orders the executioner rakes through the fire.\n Normally no trace of Joan should remain - but what is this?\n Joan's heart is undamaged. He shows it to Warwick and pours\n oil on the flames, but still the heart will not catch fire.\n He tries in vain, with the help of sul"],[" her, lead her away.\n\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\n to many of those present as a vision from God. An old woman\n approaches, hands Joan a cup of milk, weeps and kneels. The\n poor child, who is herself in need of comfort, offers the\n woman such comfort as she can, but the English soldiers put\n an end to this scene.\n\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\n fuel is piled up on a foundation","continues:\n\n There has never been a monster in\n France like the one which has\n appeared in the form of Joan.\n\n He pauses, leans towards her, and with a threatening gesture\n shouts at Joan:\n\n It is to you, Joan, I am talking...\n it is to you I say that your king\n is a heretic!\n 33.\n\n\n137 Now Joan turns towards him. She can withstand all his\n invective, when it is","that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n His ways are not our ways!\n\n After a pause she adds:\n\n Yes, I am His child!\n\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\n\n And the great victory?\n 42.\n\n\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\n question. She answers:\n\n My martyr","Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\n\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\n her eyes:\n\n Where will I be tonight?\n\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n ","\n21 Disappointment on the judges' faces. Joan continues, with a\n strength which suddenly reveals a new side of her character,\n and turning towards the English soldiers:\n 6.\n\n\n But I know for certain that the\n English will all be driven out of\n France ...\n\n Commotion and protests among the soldiers: why should Joan be\n allowed to insult England? But Joan continues inflexibly:\n\n ... except for those who are going\n to die here!\n\n The soldiers are furious. They can no","Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\n out.\n\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up","scarlet caps and purple\n skull-caps. The other platform is for Joan.\n\n128 Escorted by English soldiers, Joan's little procession comes\n slowly to this place.\n\n129 Everywhere in the churchyard, and even on the walls, there\n are thousands of people, heads jostling. The great majority\n of them are favorably disposed towards Joan. When she is\n carried in, every neck is craned to catch a glimpse of her.\n For her part Joan tries to read her destiny in their faces.\n","the ground he has won. He\n asks a new question:\n\n Was he naked?\n\n Every ear strains to hear the reply, for now Joan has to\n answer. And again she produces one of her brilliant, careful\n answers:\n\n Do you not believe that God would\n have clothes for him?\n\n28 Cauchon realizes that his stratagem has failed, but\n nevertheless he pursues the matter further:\n\n Did he have any hair on his head?\n\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground","the English soldiers has heard Ladvenu's words to\n Massieu. He extracts two bits of wood from a faggot lying\n ready for the bonfire, and joins them so that they form a\n modest little cross.\n\n185 Joan, who has followed his movements, is touched. She takes\n the cross lovingly and reverently, and covers it with kisses.\n\n186 The English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\n executioner to do his duty.\n\n187 Massieu returns with the processional","iously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up, turns it round in his\n hands, and finally places it on Joan's head. Outraged by this\n form of sacrilege, she removes it and puts it on the bed; but\n the soldier replaces the crown on her head, at the same time\n giving her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\n\n","English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\n executioner to do his duty.\n\n187 Massieu returns with the processional cross. He shows it to\n Joan; she is inexpressibly happy as she takes it with both\n hands, kisses it with tears in her eyes, and addresses ardent\n prayers to it.\n\n188 Now her eye falls on the executioner, who has climbed up on\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is","... you\n must continue to fight for France\n ... for the King of France.\n\n Joan feels a pang in the pit of her stomach when he\n pronounces the name of her country and her king, which mean\n everything to her and are never out of her thoughts.\n\n145 The spectators follow with anxiety and deep involvement\n everything taking place on the platform. Those standing round\n her, who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\n sign","Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\n out:\n\n Long live the Maid! ... Long live\n France!\n\n Two soldiers turn abruptly, force their way through the\n crowd, seize the unfortunate man who has given vent to his\n patriotic feelings, and lead him away.\n\n151 Joan has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\n aloud:\n\n","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu","the\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\n\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\n Church is unable to protect you!\n\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\n\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\n\n Dear God, I accept my death\n willingly and gladly ...\n\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\n continues:\n\n ","looks at\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\n\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\n away!\n\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\n\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\n appear before us ...\n\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\n the jailer. They lead Joan out","33.\n\n\n137 Now Joan turns towards him. She can withstand all his\n invective, when it is her own person and her own honor that\n are at stake; but this accusation directed at her king deeply\n outrages Joan's love of France and of Charles, the king. Her\n expression is one of anger and indignation as she says:\n\n Indeed, my lord, I am ready to\n maintain, even at the risk of my\n life, that my king is the noblest\n ","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu's arm.\n\n152-3 THE GATEWAY LEADING INTO THE CASTLE YARD\n\n Joan meets the two soldiers who earlier maintained that she\n had made fools of her judges. They heap abuse upon her, and\n Massieu has to protect her.\n\n154 THE PRISON\n\n Joan is escorted in by the jailer. He makes her sit down on a","\n\n Would you recognize your King's\n signature?\n\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\n visit. From his cowl he produces a letter which he hands to\n Joan. She takes it. She shows with a smile that she\n recognizes Charles VII's signature. Then she returns the\n letter and says:\n\n I can't read!\n\n61 Loiseleur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\n\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\n Charles, the King, hereby inform"],[" her, lead her away.\n\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\n to many of those present as a vision from God. An old woman\n approaches, hands Joan a cup of milk, weeps and kneels. The\n poor child, who is herself in need of comfort, offers the\n woman such comfort as she can, but the English soldiers put\n an end to this scene.\n\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\n fuel is piled up on a foundation","that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n His ways are not our ways!\n\n After a pause she adds:\n\n Yes, I am His child!\n\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\n\n And the great victory?\n 42.\n\n\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\n question. She answers:\n\n My martyr","the bishop and says to him:\n\n We are treating this woman like an\n enemy - not like a human being on\n trial!\n\n37 Then he casts a look full of tenderness at Joan, who at this\n moment is drying her cheeks, still wet from Jean d'Estivet's\n spittle. Houppeville continues:\n\n For me she is a saint!\n\n He goes over to her, genuflects before her, and turns to go\n out through the door.\n\n38 Warwick has","Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\n out:\n\n Long live the Maid! ... Long live\n France!\n\n Two soldiers turn abruptly, force their way through the\n crowd, seize the unfortunate man who has given vent to his\n patriotic feelings, and lead him away.\n\n151 Joan has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\n aloud:\n\n","the ground he has won. He\n asks a new question:\n\n Was he naked?\n\n Every ear strains to hear the reply, for now Joan has to\n answer. And again she produces one of her brilliant, careful\n answers:\n\n Do you not believe that God would\n have clothes for him?\n\n28 Cauchon realizes that his stratagem has failed, but\n nevertheless he pursues the matter further:\n\n Did he have any hair on his head?\n\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground","Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\n out.\n\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up","continues:\n\n There has never been a monster in\n France like the one which has\n appeared in the form of Joan.\n\n He pauses, leans towards her, and with a threatening gesture\n shouts at Joan:\n\n It is to you, Joan, I am talking...\n it is to you I say that your king\n is a heretic!\n 33.\n\n\n137 Now Joan turns towards him. She can withstand all his\n invective, when it is","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","a\n whisper which is barely audible to anybody but herself she\n says:\n\n I have done no wrong ... I believe\n in the twelve articles of the Creed\n and in God's Ten Commandments!\n\n143 Even Erard's heart bleeds at the sight of such deep\n unhappiness. His tone changes, and his voice becomes almost\n syrupy as he says:\n\n Joan, we have great sympathy for\n you!\n 35.\n\n\n Warwick gives","bridge, which is then raised. Many fall\n victim to the soldiers' brutality or are trampled to death.\n\n217 The smoke rises in a column, concealing Joan.\n\n218 On Warwick's orders the executioner rakes through the fire.\n Normally no trace of Joan should remain - but what is this?\n Joan's heart is undamaged. He shows it to Warwick and pours\n oil on the flames, but still the heart will not catch fire.\n He tries in vain, with the help of sul","the\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\n\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\n Church is unable to protect you!\n\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\n\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\n\n Dear God, I accept my death\n willingly and gladly ...\n\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\n continues:\n\n ",", lets her head\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\n\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\n shouts:\n\n You have burnt a saint!\n\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\n\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\n falls in ashes. Joan'","orts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n English soldiers grow impatient, and one of their officers\n approaches the platform and says:\n\n Look here, priest, are you going to\n be all day?\n\n183 Ladvenu insists on his right to prepare the young woman for\n death. And he says to Massieu, who is bringing him a small\n missal:\n\n Joan wishes to have a cross with\n her","says with\n great emphasis:\n\n Suppose we were to tell you now\n that your visions did not - as you\n believe - come from God ...\n\n Joan looks up quickly, as if unable to believe her ears. She\n searches the faces of her judges, one after the other.\n Cauchon continues:\n\n ... but are sent to you by the\n Devil, who wants to bring your soul\n to perdition!\n\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\n across her face. Almost","ieu says:\n\n At the stake!\n\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\n\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\n Ladvenu says:\n\n How can you still believe that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n","iously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up, turns it round in his\n hands, and finally places it on Joan's head. Outraged by this\n form of sacrilege, she removes it and puts it on the bed; but\n the soldier replaces the crown on her head, at the same time\n giving her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\n\n",".\n\n68 Lemaître continues with the hearing:\n\n Has God told you that you will be\n released from your prison?\n\n Joan smiles and gives Loiseleur a secret, confidential\n glance. His eyes gleam back at her in complicity. She\n answers:\n\n Yes ... and by means of a great\n victory!\n\n69 The judges are astonished and cross-examine her. They ask her\n to explain precisely what she knows, and how she has come to\n know it. But Joan answers:\n\n","\n\n Would you recognize your King's\n signature?\n\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\n visit. From his cowl he produces a letter which he hands to\n Joan. She takes it. She shows with a smile that she\n recognizes Charles VII's signature. Then she returns the\n letter and says:\n\n I can't read!\n\n61 Loiseleur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\n\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\n Charles, the King, hereby inform","meets his cold, hostile gaze. Then she relapses\n into her state of lethargy. Warwick goes from the bed towards\n the door, which he has left standing open behind him. Two\n doctors whom he has sent for come into the cell. He follows\n them over to the bed, where he speaks the famous words which\n for sheer brutality are without parallel in history:\n\n I would not have her die a natural\n death on any account ... she has\n cost me too much for that...\n\n The doctors begin to examine Joan","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu"],["looks at\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\n\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\n away!\n\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\n\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\n appear before us ...\n\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\n the jailer. They lead Joan out","Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\n\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\n her eyes:\n\n Where will I be tonight?\n\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n ","Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\n out.\n\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu",". She feels ashamed. What has\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\n\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\n it up onto a shovel. He glances","English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\n executioner to do his duty.\n\n187 Massieu returns with the processional cross. He shows it to\n Joan; she is inexpressibly happy as she takes it with both\n hands, kisses it with tears in her eyes, and addresses ardent\n prayers to it.\n\n188 Now her eye falls on the executioner, who has climbed up on\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is","ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n\n ... now and in our last hour.\n\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\n\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n","ur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\n\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\n Charles, the King, hereby informs\n you that he is preparing to advance\n on Rouen with a mighty army. He is\n sending you a faithful priest, who\n will stand by you. Have confidence\n in him.\n\n The reflection of an inner joy shines in her eyes. Her face\n lights up during the reading and she smiles. Loiseleur does\n not move from the spot. He stands watching her, motionless\n ","the English soldiers has heard Ladvenu's words to\n Massieu. He extracts two bits of wood from a faggot lying\n ready for the bonfire, and joins them so that they form a\n modest little cross.\n\n185 Joan, who has followed his movements, is touched. She takes\n the cross lovingly and reverently, and covers it with kisses.\n\n186 The English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\n executioner to do his duty.\n\n187 Massieu returns with the processional","'s\n eyes well over with tears. He is afraid he will be unable to\n stifle his emotion and withdraws.\n\n170 The solemn ceremony is over. The monks leave.\n\n171 The jailer comes in with a coat which Joan is to wear.\n 43.\n\n\n172 Meanwhile rumors are circulating among the crowd in the area\n behind the churchyard that Joan has withdrawn her abjuration.\n Now they set out in swarms for the castle, pressing over the","\n Ladvenu gives Loiseleur a look of hostility.\n\n100 THE PRISON\n\n Joan is lying on her wretched bed. The chains, the brutal\n soldiers, terror, fatigue, and finally the torture have\n exhausted her strength. She is unrecognizable. Her face is as\n white as a sheet. Deep shadows under her eyes. When the scene\n opens, she is lying in a feverish doze. She breathes rapidly\n and with difficulty.\n\n A soldier with a hard, repellent face is","parapets of the\n bridge in the hope of seeing a tiny fragment of the\n unaccustomed spectacle.\n\n173 In between, scenes from the prison are shown. Joan is wearing\n a coat that comes down to her feet, which are bare. Her\n earlier calm seems to have disappeared. She prays and weeps\n incessantly. Ladvenu and Massieu, who have returned to fetch\n her, lead her away.\n\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\n to many of those","at Joan's side. He begins\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\n John's Gospel: 'The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except\n it abide in the vine.' Inspiring terror at one moment,\n speaking sanctimoniously the next, he warns, he threatens, he\n implores, he mocks, he calls her a cunning traitor, cruel,\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\n measure with his words and finally reaches a","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","addressed to her, and she thinks\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\n completely.\n\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\n\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\n have been hurting intensely, bows",", lets her head\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\n\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\n shouts:\n\n You have burnt a saint!\n\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\n\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\n falls in ashes. Joan'",", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\n earnestly to follow this advice.\n\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the"," her, lead her away.\n\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\n to many of those present as a vision from God. An old woman\n approaches, hands Joan a cup of milk, weeps and kneels. The\n poor child, who is herself in need of comfort, offers the\n woman such comfort as she can, but the English soldiers put\n an end to this scene.\n\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\n fuel is piled up on a foundation","in shouts of\n joy. But one or two English soldiers, who have seen Joan's\n smile, go up to her and shout at the priests around her:\n\n She has only made fools of you!\n\n The priests push them away. Cauchon, who has received the\n document, now gives a signal for Joan to come forward and\n hear her sentence of judgement.\n\n150 Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\n out:","6 Massieu has gone to fetch the Eucharist. A procession of\n priests, wearing surplices and stoles, and carrying lights in\n their hands, comes out of the chapel and goes in the\n direction of the castle yard, singing litanies.\n\n167 Everyone in the castle yard kneels; the women are in tears.\n To every entreaty the priests answer:\n\n Pray for her!\n\n168 Presently the procession arrives at Joan's cell, and she\n prepares to receive the"],["imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu"," 3.\n\n\n These three men are surrounded by the other forty-one\n clerics, all men of learning, thoroughly versed in the art of\n dragging confessions out of accused persons.\n\n A special table is reserved for the notaries.\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the accused to be brought in.\n\n9 Every face turns towards the entrance. They all see Joan for\n the first time. It is so quiet in the chapel that you can\n hear the grating noise of the chains round Joan's ankles.\n\n","her out.\n\n86 THE TORTURE-CHAMBER\n\n The judges have already arrived and are taking their places.\n They consist of Pierre Cauchon, Lemaître, and nine doctors\n and prelates. The two executioners, Maugier Leparmentier and\n his assistant, are putting the instruments in order and\n making other necessary preparations.\n\n87 Enter Massieu with Joan. She is told to come nearer. Cauchon\n tells one of the younger judges to bring a stool for Joan.\n\n","Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\n out:\n\n Long live the Maid! ... Long live\n France!\n\n Two soldiers turn abruptly, force their way through the\n crowd, seize the unfortunate man who has given vent to his\n patriotic feelings, and lead him away.\n\n151 Joan has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\n aloud:\n\n","addressed to her, and she thinks\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\n completely.\n\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\n\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\n have been hurting intensely, bows","'s answer, the preacher\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\n\n Make her be quiet!\n\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\n little scene.\n\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's","looks at\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\n\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\n away!\n\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\n\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\n appear before us ...\n\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\n the jailer. They lead Joan out","\n appear before us ...\n\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\n the jailer. They lead Joan out.*\n\n8 THE CHAPEL\n\n Bishop Cauchon takes the chair for the trial. To either side\n of him sit the Inquisitor, Lemaître, and Jean d'Estivet, who\n is to present the case against Joan.\n 3.\n\n\n These three men are surrounded by the other forty-one\n clerics, all men of learning, thoroughly versed in","\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\n have been hurting intensely, bows her head and places her\n hands on her breast to all appearances indifferent to\n everything happening around her. Erard, Massieu and two\n notaries take their places at Joan's side.\n 32.\n\n\n132 Loiseleur goes back to the larger platform where he takes his\n place near Cauchon, who now gets up and declares the session\n opened.\n","his\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\n doctrines in deed as well as in word; and asks her if she has\n anything to say in answer to this. She reflects for a moment\n and, while the spectators stand on tiptoe to see what is\n happening, she rises to her feet and says:\n\n I alone am responsible for\n everything that I have said and\n done ...\n\n Joan draws a deep breath","to torture. While the executioners are\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\n\n One instrument of torture after another is displayed for\n Joan's benefit. With an executioner at her side she is\n conducted past the various appliances. She looks at each one\n for a long time, trembling with fear. Occasionally the\n executioner demonstrates with a gesture how one of the\n instruments is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n ","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","\n The bishop, who is engaged in thumbing through some documents\n which one of the prelates, Loiseleur, has just brought him,\n discusses the request briefly with the Inquisitor, and\n replies that he is obliged to deny her this favor because of\n her indecent dress.\n 4.\n\n\n13 Then he opens the session and orders Joan to take the oath.\n With a gesture he indicates that the Bible is to be fetched\n and placed in front of Joan. She kneels, f","from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\n\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\n a short prayer.\n\n4 THE CH","of putrefaction arose from this\n earth filled with dead bodies. The poisonous smell of\n nothingness. The smell of stones, corpses and worms. Against\n the buttress of the church two platforms have been erected\n and covered with red velvet. On one of them the entire\n assembly of judges is sitting in state: Pierre Cauchon, the\n Inquisitor, and a host of jurists in scarlet caps and purple\n skull-caps. The other platform is for Joan.\n\n128 Escorted by English soldiers, Joan'","and\n now come into the cell. The soldiers bring in chairs and a\n table for the scribe. The judges group themselves in a circle\n round Joan, some sitting, others standing. Loiseleur places\n himself behind Cauchon. In addition to the judges, Massieu\n also is present.\n\n67 Cauchon gestures to Lemaître who says to Joan:\n\n You profess to be a daughter of\n God? ...\n\n Joan agrees with a nod, and Lemaître continues:\n\n Then why will you not say Our","-Chief of the\n English army of occupation he is the real, though\n unrecognized, driving force behind the trial. He has come for\n the purpose of speeding things up, but he keeps in the\n background - like an accomplished butler who supervises from\n a distance and sees that everything is proceeding smoothly.\n For the moment he remains standing just inside the door;\n presently he comes further forward and is hidden by columns.\n At one point we see him in conversation with Loiseleur.\n\n15 Joan has sat down again","the bishop and says to him:\n\n We are treating this woman like an\n enemy - not like a human being on\n trial!\n\n37 Then he casts a look full of tenderness at Joan, who at this\n moment is drying her cheeks, still wet from Jean d'Estivet's\n spittle. Houppeville continues:\n\n For me she is a saint!\n\n He goes over to her, genuflects before her, and turns to go\n out through the door.\n\n38 Warwick has","in shouts of\n joy. But one or two English soldiers, who have seen Joan's\n smile, go up to her and shout at the priests around her:\n\n She has only made fools of you!\n\n The priests push them away. Cauchon, who has received the\n document, now gives a signal for Joan to come forward and\n hear her sentence of judgement.\n\n150 Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\n out:","and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\n spectators is at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the"],["guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness",", who begins to question Joan\n about her dress:\n\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\n\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\n\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\n dress?\n\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\n secret, and says no to the","to continue. He asks Joan:\n\n Has God promised you anything?\n\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\n him what it is that God has promised.\n\n Can you not tell us what it is that\n God has promised you?\n\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\n\n You must tell us.\n\n But Joan declines to answer:\n\n That has nothing to do with your\n","really going to\n torture Joan? But a look from Cauchon prevents him from\n saying anything. He goes out through the door, giving Joan a\n look of compassion as he does so.\n\n82 The soldiers, who have witnessed the examination, escort him\n out, and in the ante-room they reproach and abuse him:\n\n Why did you make signs to her and\n give her good advice?\n\n They threaten to throw him into the Seine if this happens\n again.\n\n83 THE PRISON\n\n ",". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\n her king. God can hear her!\n\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\n which Loiseleur presents his questions","amine her. They ask her\n to explain precisely what she knows, and how she has come to\n know it. But Joan answers:\n\n I know that God will soon come to\n my help in a miraculous way!\n\n70 Jean d'Estivet hastens to write down this important answer.\n With great secrecy he grips Loiseleur's hand in gratitude.\n Cauchon, Lemaître and some of the other judges plot together.\n\n71 Lemaître leans forward and begins to question her:\n\n","asking to die. He says\n in a friendly tone:\n\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\n front of everybody that you were\n misled by the Devil.\n\n Joan, who has gradually regained her self-control, does not\n answer immediately. It is only when the judges press her that\n she replies:\n\n Everything I said was for fear of\n the stake!\n\n Cauchon holds a whispered consultation with the others, but\n it is clear that they all regard it as wasted effort to\n","'s answer, the preacher\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\n\n Make her be quiet!\n\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\n little scene.\n\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's",", then continues:\n\n ... who has deceived you ...\n\n Then after another short pause:\n\n ... and betrayed you?\n\n While Cauchon has been speaking a change has come over Joan.\n It is clear that she is tormented by doubts. God has promised\n her that she will be set free. Why has God not kept his\n promise to her? Why does he let her stand alone against all\n these churchmen, these learned doctors? She even asks herself\n whether she has the right to talk as she does in front of all\n","ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n\n ... now and in our last hour.\n\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\n\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n","immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\n do so.\n\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\n an inclination of the head and asks:\n\n You say that you are sent by God?\n\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\n\n To save France!\n\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\n the right","auchon cuts him short and\n orders the hearing to continue.\n\n73 Lemaître presents his next question, which is only one link\n in a chain of questions carefully prepared and ingeniously\n related:\n\n Since you are so certain of your\n salvation ... why do you need to go\n to confession?\n\n Joan is already floundering in the net. She has the feeling\n that her answer may decide her destiny. She is like a hunted\n animal that looks for the smallest gap in the chain of\n beaters in the"," Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\n says:\n\n So you are certain of being saved?\n 16.\n\n\n72 Again Joan resorts to Loiseleur. He gives the same sign as\n before, and Joan says yes.\n\n Massieu's eyes are as if riveted to Joan's lips, and now when\n she answers yes he forgets where he is, forgets that Cauchon\n is just beside","her out.\n\n86 THE TORTURE-CHAMBER\n\n The judges have already arrived and are taking their places.\n They consist of Pierre Cauchon, Lemaître, and nine doctors\n and prelates. The two executioners, Maugier Leparmentier and\n his assistant, are putting the instruments in order and\n making other necessary preparations.\n\n87 Enter Massieu with Joan. She is told to come nearer. Cauchon\n tells one of the younger judges to bring a stool for Joan.\n\n","Is she familiar with the secrets of the torture?\n Cauchon's threats make no impression on Joan.\n\n She feels safe with her God. Her face is transfigured by a\n beautiful light as she says:\n\n I would rather die than deny God's\n acts.\n\n Enraged by Joan's pig-headedness, Cauchon loses patience. He\n orders Joan to be put to torture. While the executioners are\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\n\n One instrument of torture after another is"," 3.\n\n\n These three men are surrounded by the other forty-one\n clerics, all men of learning, thoroughly versed in the art of\n dragging confessions out of accused persons.\n\n A special table is reserved for the notaries.\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the accused to be brought in.\n\n9 Every face turns towards the entrance. They all see Joan for\n the first time. It is so quiet in the chapel that you can\n hear the grating noise of the chains round Joan's ankles.\n\n",", Lemaître and some of the other judges plot together.\n\n71 Lemaître leans forward and begins to question her:\n\n Has God promised you that you will\n go to Paradise?\n\n Joan knows instinctively that they have laid a trap for her.\n In her uncertainty she looks for help from Loiseleur, who\n indicates to her with a slight smile that she is to say yes.\n Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\n says","and\n now come into the cell. The soldiers bring in chairs and a\n table for the scribe. The judges group themselves in a circle\n round Joan, some sitting, others standing. Loiseleur places\n himself behind Cauchon. In addition to the judges, Massieu\n also is present.\n\n67 Cauchon gestures to Lemaître who says to Joan:\n\n You profess to be a daughter of\n God? ...\n\n Joan agrees with a nod, and Lemaître continues:\n\n Then why will you not say Our","that he is, has no difficulty in\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am"],["is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness","and is hidden by columns.\n At one point we see him in conversation with Loiseleur.\n\n15 Joan has sat down again, and the hearing begins. Cauchon asks\n Joan her name. She answers:\n\n At home I am called Jeannette ...\n Here they call me Joan!\n\n16 Cauchon asks her age. Joan thinks and counts on her fingers:\n\n Nineteen ... I think.\n\n17 Cauchon, after smiling to his neighbor, asks:\n\n Can you say Our Father?\n","\n The bishop, who is engaged in thumbing through some documents\n which one of the prelates, Loiseleur, has just brought him,\n discusses the request briefly with the Inquisitor, and\n replies that he is obliged to deny her this favor because of\n her indecent dress.\n 4.\n\n\n13 Then he opens the session and orders Joan to take the oath.\n With a gesture he indicates that the Bible is to be fetched\n and placed in front of Joan. She kneels, f","to torture. While the executioners are\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\n\n One instrument of torture after another is displayed for\n Joan's benefit. With an executioner at her side she is\n conducted past the various appliances. She looks at each one\n for a long time, trembling with fear. Occasionally the\n executioner demonstrates with a gesture how one of the\n instruments is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n ",". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\n her king. God can hear her!\n\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\n which Loiseleur presents his questions","ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n\n ... now and in our last hour.\n\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\n\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n"," 3.\n\n\n These three men are surrounded by the other forty-one\n clerics, all men of learning, thoroughly versed in the art of\n dragging confessions out of accused persons.\n\n A special table is reserved for the notaries.\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the accused to be brought in.\n\n9 Every face turns towards the entrance. They all see Joan for\n the first time. It is so quiet in the chapel that you can\n hear the grating noise of the chains round Joan's ankles.\n\n","immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\n do so.\n\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\n an inclination of the head and asks:\n\n You say that you are sent by God?\n\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\n\n To save France!\n\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\n the right",", who begins to question Joan\n about her dress:\n\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\n\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\n\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\n dress?\n\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\n secret, and says no to the","trial has been unanimously agreed, she\n is obliged to answer. He repeats his question:\n\n What has God promised you?\n\n Joan does not answer.\n\n44 Cauchon continues:\n\n Has God promised you that you will\n be released from your prison?\n\n Joan confirms this with a nod. Dalleu speaks in a low voice\n to Cauchon, who asks:\n\n When?\n\n After sitting for a while, lost in thought, Joan answers:\n\n I do not know the day","'s\n eyes well over with tears. He is afraid he will be unable to\n stifle his emotion and withdraws.\n\n170 The solemn ceremony is over. The monks leave.\n\n171 The jailer comes in with a coat which Joan is to wear.\n 43.\n\n\n172 Meanwhile rumors are circulating among the crowd in the area\n behind the churchyard that Joan has withdrawn her abjuration.\n Now they set out in swarms for the castle, pressing over the",",\n number and fierceness, are now fanning round her.\n\n204 The rope binding her to the stake begins to burn.\n 47.\n\n\n205 Joan is frantic with terror:\n\n Jesus!\n\n she screams in her agony.\n\n206 The echo repeats her cry in the sad and silent square. The\n bystanders pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\n\n Intercede for us ...\n\n Others continue:\n"," her, lead her away.\n\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\n to many of those present as a vision from God. An old woman\n approaches, hands Joan a cup of milk, weeps and kneels. The\n poor child, who is herself in need of comfort, offers the\n woman such comfort as she can, but the English soldiers put\n an end to this scene.\n\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\n fuel is piled up on a foundation","Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\n out:\n\n Long live the Maid! ... Long live\n France!\n\n Two soldiers turn abruptly, force their way through the\n crowd, seize the unfortunate man who has given vent to his\n patriotic feelings, and lead him away.\n\n151 Joan has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\n aloud:\n\n","ess by severity. The judges\n are overcome by a feeling which can almost be called\n irritation - irritation with Joan and what they call her pig-\n headedness.\n\n118 Jean d'Estivet reproaches her harshly for allowing her vanity\n to take precedence over the salvation of her soul. He\n concludes with these words:\n\n If you die in this hour, you die as\n an infidel...\n\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\n subjected,","addressed to her, and she thinks\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\n completely.\n\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\n\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\n have been hurting intensely, bows","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu","asks:\n\n When?\n\n After sitting for a while, lost in thought, Joan answers:\n\n I do not know the day or the hour!\n\n A further exchange of words between Cauchon and d'Estivet\n then Cauchon makes a sign for Massieu to take the accused\n back to prison. Joan rises to go.\n\n45 She takes a few steps, turns and asks:\n\n May I not be relieved from carrying\n these chains?\n\n Cauchon can see no reason for complying with her request","ages:\n\n ... abominable in the eyes of God\n ...\n\n Joan writhes under these denunciations, she implores him to\n show mercy, but he scourges her pitilessly:\n\n ... You are no daughter of God ...\n\n Joan weeps and sobs.\n\n81 Cauchon shows no sympathy. He lowers his voice, bends right\n over her and hisses:\n\n ... but a child of the Devil!\n\n Joan cries out and collapses.\n ","her out.\n\n86 THE TORTURE-CHAMBER\n\n The judges have already arrived and are taking their places.\n They consist of Pierre Cauchon, Lemaître, and nine doctors\n and prelates. The two executioners, Maugier Leparmentier and\n his assistant, are putting the instruments in order and\n making other necessary preparations.\n\n87 Enter Massieu with Joan. She is told to come nearer. Cauchon\n tells one of the younger judges to bring a stool for Joan.\n\n"],["\n21 Disappointment on the judges' faces. Joan continues, with a\n strength which suddenly reveals a new side of her character,\n and turning towards the English soldiers:\n 6.\n\n\n But I know for certain that the\n English will all be driven out of\n France ...\n\n Commotion and protests among the soldiers: why should Joan be\n allowed to insult England? But Joan continues inflexibly:\n\n ... except for those who are going\n to die here!\n\n The soldiers are furious. They can no","immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\n do so.\n\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\n an inclination of the head and asks:\n\n You say that you are sent by God?\n\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\n\n To save France!\n\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\n the right","to continue. He asks Joan:\n\n Has God promised you anything?\n\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\n him what it is that God has promised.\n\n Can you not tell us what it is that\n God has promised you?\n\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\n\n You must tell us.\n\n But Joan declines to answer:\n\n That has nothing to do with your\n","that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n His ways are not our ways!\n\n After a pause she adds:\n\n Yes, I am His child!\n\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\n\n And the great victory?\n 42.\n\n\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\n question. She answers:\n\n My martyr","says with\n great emphasis:\n\n Suppose we were to tell you now\n that your visions did not - as you\n believe - come from God ...\n\n Joan looks up quickly, as if unable to believe her ears. She\n searches the faces of her judges, one after the other.\n Cauchon continues:\n\n ... but are sent to you by the\n Devil, who wants to bring your soul\n to perdition!\n\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\n across her face. Almost","ieu says:\n\n At the stake!\n\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\n\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\n Ladvenu says:\n\n How can you still believe that you\n are sent by God?\n\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\n answers:\n\n","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","other judges. Their expressions show\n that they are setting a new trap for Joan.\n\n20 Finally he says:\n\n So you believe that God hates the\n English?\n\n Joan does not immediately understand the question, and the\n examining judge has to repeat it. Then Joan gives one of her\n brilliant, inspired answers:\n\n I know not whether God loves or\n hates the English ...\n\n21 Disappointment on the judges' faces. Joan continues, with a\n strength which suddenly reveals a new side of her character,\n",".\n\n68 Lemaître continues with the hearing:\n\n Has God told you that you will be\n released from your prison?\n\n Joan smiles and gives Loiseleur a secret, confidential\n glance. His eyes gleam back at her in complicity. She\n answers:\n\n Yes ... and by means of a great\n victory!\n\n69 The judges are astonished and cross-examine her. They ask her\n to explain precisely what she knows, and how she has come to\n know it. But Joan answers:\n\n","orts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n English soldiers grow impatient, and one of their officers\n approaches the platform and says:\n\n Look here, priest, are you going to\n be all day?\n\n183 Ladvenu insists on his right to prepare the young woman for\n death. And he says to Massieu, who is bringing him a small\n missal:\n\n Joan wishes to have a cross with\n her","cross. Suddenly the two straws\n spin round in a mysterious gust of wind. What is it?\n 2.\n\n\n Joan sits for a moment, overcome with astonishment, then puts\n the straws back in the form of a cross. Again a hostile power\n attacks this cross and scatters it over the flagstones. Joan\n doesn't know what to believe. Can it be one of her voices? A\n divine intervention? Once again she replaces the cross. Then\n there is a roar of laughter from the door behind her","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","in shouts of\n joy. But one or two English soldiers, who have seen Joan's\n smile, go up to her and shout at the priests around her:\n\n She has only made fools of you!\n\n The priests push them away. Cauchon, who has received the\n document, now gives a signal for Joan to come forward and\n hear her sentence of judgement.\n\n150 Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\n out:","the English soldiers has heard Ladvenu's words to\n Massieu. He extracts two bits of wood from a faggot lying\n ready for the bonfire, and joins them so that they form a\n modest little cross.\n\n185 Joan, who has followed his movements, is touched. She takes\n the cross lovingly and reverently, and covers it with kisses.\n\n186 The English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\n executioner to do his duty.\n\n187 Massieu returns with the processional","lonely and unhappy.\n She has no doubt that it is God who sends her solace and\n encouragement in this way. She dries her eyes and produces\n from a hiding-place a piece of handiwork, with which she\n occupies her hands and her thoughts when she is not before\n the judges. It is a crown of plaited straw - very simple,\n pretty and childlike. Soon she is completely absorbed in this\n work, to which she devotes all her love. We see the Joan from\n Domrémy who 'is second to no woman","... you\n must continue to fight for France\n ... for the King of France.\n\n Joan feels a pang in the pit of her stomach when he\n pronounces the name of her country and her king, which mean\n everything to her and are never out of her thoughts.\n\n145 The spectators follow with anxiety and deep involvement\n everything taking place on the platform. Those standing round\n her, who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\n sign","ur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\n\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\n Charles, the King, hereby informs\n you that he is preparing to advance\n on Rouen with a mighty army. He is\n sending you a faithful priest, who\n will stand by you. Have confidence\n in him.\n\n The reflection of an inner joy shines in her eyes. Her face\n lights up during the reading and she smiles. Loiseleur does\n not move from the spot. He stands watching her, motionless\n ",". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\n her king. God can hear her!\n\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\n which Loiseleur presents his questions","English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\n executioner to do his duty.\n\n187 Massieu returns with the processional cross. He shows it to\n Joan; she is inexpressibly happy as she takes it with both\n hands, kisses it with tears in her eyes, and addresses ardent\n prayers to it.\n\n188 Now her eye falls on the executioner, who has climbed up on\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is","God put me there!\n And if I am, may God so keep me!\n\n77 Joan has broken the chain of beaters. She realizes this and\n smiles. But her judges, who have sat there greedily waiting\n for the prey to fall into the net so that they can hurl\n themselves on it - these judges now sit not knowing what to\n say or where to look. They gaze at each other in speechless\n amazement. Some of them unconsciously make the sign of the\n cross. Loiseleur is beyond doubt the most discon"],["\n with this woman, whom he has heard described as a dangerous\n witch and an object of fear - he is afraid. He prays\n inaudibly and crosses himself. He has brought with him a\n small stoup and aspergillum, and as he stands by the door he\n sprinkles Joan eagerly with holy water. Joan, who has dragged\n herself over to the boards which serve as her bed, looks at\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\n\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\n","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","carried in, every neck is craned to catch a glimpse of her.\n For her part Joan tries to read her destiny in their faces.\n From the way they look at her she gets the impression that\n their feelings towards her are friendly. Joan, who for months\n has lived remote from this earth, is visibly moved. She\n smiles at the tiny flowers which greet her from the grass.\n She almost touches them with her hand and imagines that she\n is caressing them. But when she looks in the other direction,\n her eye falls on two gr","that he is, has no difficulty in\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\n\n ... I declare that I am","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She",", who begins to question Joan\n about her dress:\n\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\n\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\n\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\n dress?\n\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\n secret, and says no to the","'s answer, the preacher\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\n\n Make her be quiet!\n\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\n little scene.\n\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's","nothing of what goes on around her escapes her\n notice. She looks towards the open grave. She cannot see the\n actual gravedigger, only the earth which he is shoveling up\n from deep down. Then she hears a shout of command.\n\n135 In the densest part of the crowd the soldiers are clearing a\n passage to allow a carriage into the churchyard. The new\n arrivals are the executioner and his two assistants.\n\n136 Erard is enraged at Joan's apparent lack of interest in"," ... alone ...\n\n But a heavenly light shines from Joan's face. She smiles.\n With her eyes raised to heaven she says:\n\n ... alone - with God!\n\n95 Cauchon, realizing that his prey is about to escape him,\n increases his exertions and displays all his powers of\n persuasion. Does she know that the Church has the means to\n compel her? Is she familiar with the secrets of the torture?\n Cauchon's threats make no impression on Joan.\n\n She feels safe with her","at Joan's side. He begins\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\n John's Gospel: 'The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except\n it abide in the vine.' Inspiring terror at one moment,\n speaking sanctimoniously the next, he warns, he threatens, he\n implores, he mocks, he calls her a cunning traitor, cruel,\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\n measure with his words and finally reaches a","hand.\n\n Cauchon threatens her:\n\n ... but if you do not sign, the\n Church will turn her back on you\n and you will stand alone ...\n 23.\n\n\n Joan's crisis is over. Once again she sees clearly the path\n she must follow. Quietly she puts away the pen. Cauchon sees\n this and thunders:\n\n ... alone ...\n\n But a heavenly light shines from Joan's face. She smiles.\n With her eyes raised to heaven she","from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\n\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\n a short prayer.\n\n4 THE CH","at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the excitement is palpable.\n People seem to be afraid of her dying.\n\n147 But Joan is like somebody who has escaped from a great\n danger, whose relief now finds expression in a tremendous\n joy, almost resembling gaiety.\n 36.\n\n\n148 She draws a circle, explaining as she does so that she is\n unable to write. But this is not","is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness","Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\n\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\n her eyes:\n\n Where will I be tonight?\n\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n ","God put me there!\n And if I am, may God so keep me!\n\n77 Joan has broken the chain of beaters. She realizes this and\n smiles. But her judges, who have sat there greedily waiting\n for the prey to fall into the net so that they can hurl\n themselves on it - these judges now sit not knowing what to\n say or where to look. They gaze at each other in speechless\n amazement. Some of them unconsciously make the sign of the\n cross. Loiseleur is beyond doubt the most discon","\n thoughts and remains silent. She looks in the direction of\n Loiseleur, who is apparently absorbed in his own reflection.\n He is abandoning her to her fate. In his view she is a\n certain prey; whether she answers yes or no, she is doomed to\n perdition. But now that Joan has collected her thoughts\n again, she gives this admirable answer:\n\n If I am not, may God put me there!\n And if I am, may God so keep me!\n\n77 Joan has broken the chain of beaters.",",\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\n measure with his words and finally reaches a point where it\n overflows in a torrent. He is unquestionably a powerful\n speaker.\n\n134 But the stream of words appears to flow over Joan's head\n without touching her. The past and the present mingle in her\n thoughts; yet nothing of what goes on around her escapes her\n notice. She looks towards the open grave. She cannot see the\n actual graved"," ominous, infernal silence prevails.\n\n209 Joan screams:\n\n Jesus! Jesus!\n\n210 But the bystanders, who during these final scenes stand as if\n paralyzed by the fire and by Joan's cries, are seized by a\n mood compounded of fear and ecstasy. Outbursts of anger and\n indignation against the oppressors can already be heard. The\n English soldiers take up a threatening posture.\n\n211 The flames climb steadily higher.",". They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She looks up, surprised to see him. Then Ladvenu says:\n\n Joan, I have come to prepare you\n for death!\n\n For a moment silence reigns, so deep that Joan's breathing\n can be heard. Then she says in a barely audible voice:\n\n Now ... already?\n\n Ladvenu, struggling with the tears which are muffling his\n voice, answers yes"],["ess by severity. The judges\n are overcome by a feeling which can almost be called\n irritation - irritation with Joan and what they call her pig-\n headedness.\n\n118 Jean d'Estivet reproaches her harshly for allowing her vanity\n to take precedence over the salvation of her soul. He\n concludes with these words:\n\n If you die in this hour, you die as\n an infidel...\n\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\n subjected,","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu","accused. The judge continues:\n\n Do you not consider that these\n learned doctors are likely to be\n endowed with more wisdom than you\n ...\n\n89 Joan nods half absent-mindedly. The judge is pleased with his\n happy idea and is about to continue his course of instruction\n when Joan interrupts him:\n\n ... but the wisdom of God is even\n greater!\n\n The judge, who has spoken to Joan as one speaks to a child\n which stubbornly refuses to listen to reason, shrugs his\n shoulders and","to torture. While the executioners are\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\n\n One instrument of torture after another is displayed for\n Joan's benefit. With an executioner at her side she is\n conducted past the various appliances. She looks at each one\n for a long time, trembling with fear. Occasionally the\n executioner demonstrates with a gesture how one of the\n instruments is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n ","asking to die. He says\n in a friendly tone:\n\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\n front of everybody that you were\n misled by the Devil.\n\n Joan, who has gradually regained her self-control, does not\n answer immediately. It is only when the judges press her that\n she replies:\n\n Everything I said was for fear of\n the stake!\n\n Cauchon holds a whispered consultation with the others, but\n it is clear that they all regard it as wasted effort to\n",", who begins to question Joan\n about her dress:\n\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\n\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\n\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\n dress?\n\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\n secret, and says no to the","his\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\n doctrines in deed as well as in word; and asks her if she has\n anything to say in answer to this. She reflects for a moment\n and, while the spectators stand on tiptoe to see what is\n happening, she rises to her feet and says:\n\n I alone am responsible for\n everything that I have said and\n done ...\n\n Joan draws a deep breath","and\n gasps for breath. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with\n her sleeve. For a moment there is silence. Only her groans\n can be heard. The judges look at each other, not knowing what\n to do. Then they turn to Cauchon who is pondering. It is he\n who breaks the silence with the following words addressed to\n Massieu:\n\n There is nothing for it ... give\n the executioner his orders!\n\n While the doctors who have entered during the preceding scene\n are attending to Joan,",", you die as\n an infidel...\n\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\n subjected, answers in words conjured up by her sancta\n simplicitas; but Jean d'Estivet, revelling in the pain his\n speech has given Joan, obliterates her with the wounding\n words, which sting like the lash of a whip:\n\n Your soul is doomed to perdition\n ...\n\n To which one of the others adds:\n\n ... to everlast","s in confirmation.\n\n163 Again the judges exchange looks. The notary raises his head\n from his book. He examines the judges' faces searchingly,\n looks at Joan and writes in his notes: 'Fatal answer.'\n Cauchon has stood up. However dulled his human feelings may\n be, it still goes against the grain with him to send Joan to\n the stake, even though she herself is asking to die. He says\n in a friendly tone:\n\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\n front of everybody that","The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\n the right words for her. Her expression, which is filled with\n the glory of a heavenly vision, is almost unearthly as she\n answers:\n\n That is why I was born!\n\n More contemptuous laughter from the judges. The examining\n judge confers with the other judges. Their expressions show\n that they are setting a new trap for Joan.\n\n20 Finally he says:\n\n So you","gratitude is sketched on her\n face. She lowers her head to conceal her joy. Then Cauchon\n continues:\n\n But in as much as you have rashly\n sinned we condemn you . ..\n\n Joan looks up with an expression of fear and surprise.\n Cauchon continues his reading:\n 37.\n\n\n\n ... to perpetual imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n ","'s answer, the preacher\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\n\n Make her be quiet!\n\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\n little scene.\n\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's","is\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\n entreaty:\n\n Oh, I am so tired ...\n\n The jail",":\n\n Now ... already?\n\n Ladvenu, struggling with the tears which are muffling his\n voice, answers yes. Another long, long silence. Then Joan\n asks, almost as if fearing the answer:\n\n What kind of death?\n\n Ladvenu, choked by his feelings, is unable to speak. He makes\n a sign for Massieu to answer on his behalf. Massieu says:\n\n At the stake!\n\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\n there","immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\n do so.\n\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\n an inclination of the head and asks:\n\n You say that you are sent by God?\n\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\n\n To save France!\n\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\n the right","guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\n spectators is at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the","in shouts of\n joy. But one or two English soldiers, who have seen Joan's\n smile, go up to her and shout at the priests around her:\n\n She has only made fools of you!\n\n The priests push them away. Cauchon, who has received the\n document, now gives a signal for Joan to come forward and\n hear her sentence of judgement.\n\n150 Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\n out:"," 8.\n\n\n31 An indication that another trap is being prepared. Then one\n of the judges says:\n\n So it is God who has commanded you\n to go about in men's clothes?\n\n Joan answers unhesitatingly:\n\n Yes!\n\n A smile of triumph spreads from face to face among Joan's\n judges.\n\n32 The Promoter, Jean d'Estivet, complacently makes some notes.\n Then he leans forward over his desk, smiles and asks in an"],["guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\n\n We have come to give you comfort\n and strength ...\n\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\n her bed.\n\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then","Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\n\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\n her eyes:\n\n Where will I be tonight?\n\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\n ","his\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\n doctrines in deed as well as in word; and asks her if she has\n anything to say in answer to this. She reflects for a moment\n and, while the spectators stand on tiptoe to see what is\n happening, she rises to her feet and says:\n\n I alone am responsible for\n everything that I have said and\n done ...\n\n Joan draws a deep breath","is\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\n entreaty:\n\n Oh, I am so tired ...\n\n The jail","perhaps she\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then she\n makes a feeble movement with her head. Cauchon arranges the\n pillow under her and comes close to her in order to hear\n better. Joan, whose labored breathing makes it difficult for\n her to speak, says in a weak voice:\n 27.\n\n\n I am afraid that I am going to die\n ...\n\n108 Cauchon speaks some","pers to the others, letting them in on Loiseleur's plan.\n Then he approaches Joan and says to her in his mildest voice:\n 18.\n\n\n Joan, if you were allowed to go to\n Mass now ...\n\n Joan looks up at Cauchon. Her eyes are already gleaming with\n hope and expectation. Cauchon continues:\n\n ... would you consent to give up\n your men's clothes?\n\n When Joan hears this condition, her hope is extinguished as\n rapidly as","'s answer, the preacher\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\n\n Make her be quiet!\n\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\n little scene.\n\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's","the\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\n\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\n Church is unable to protect you!\n\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\n\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\n\n Dear God, I accept my death\n willingly and gladly ...\n\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\n continues:\n\n ","is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\n of her senses.\n\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\n\n Even though you torture my soul out\n of my body I shall confess nothing\n ...\n\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\n think she is indicating her readiness",":\n\n Now ... already?\n\n Ladvenu, struggling with the tears which are muffling his\n voice, answers yes. Another long, long silence. Then Joan\n asks, almost as if fearing the answer:\n\n What kind of death?\n\n Ladvenu, choked by his feelings, is unable to speak. He makes\n a sign for Massieu to answer on his behalf. Massieu says:\n\n At the stake!\n\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\n there","and gives them an order.\n\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\n She","and\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\n spectators is at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the","addressed to her, and she thinks\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\n completely.\n\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\n\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\n have been hurting intensely, bows","asks:\n\n When?\n\n After sitting for a while, lost in thought, Joan answers:\n\n I do not know the day or the hour!\n\n A further exchange of words between Cauchon and d'Estivet\n then Cauchon makes a sign for Massieu to take the accused\n back to prison. Joan rises to go.\n\n45 She takes a few steps, turns and asks:\n\n May I not be relieved from carrying\n these chains?\n\n Cauchon can see no reason for complying with her request","she sees\n only utter benevolence and charitableness. In addition, all\n the judges now seem full of affection and sympathy. They\n tiptoe round her bed, first one and then another coming close\n up to her. They tuck the blanket round her and touch the\n place where she has been bled. Some of them kneel and pray\n for Joan. She regrets not having been more amiable towards\n these men who are revealing their true feelings, now that\n they see her in such misery. She feels every confidence in\n them","has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\n aloud:\n\n In as much as you have at last\n renounced the error of your ways,\n we release you from excommunication\n from the Church ...\n\n Cauchon pauses for a moment. Joan stands before her judges\n with folded hands. A smile of gratitude is sketched on her\n face. She lowers her head to conceal her joy. Then Cauchon\n continues:\n\n","imprisonment,\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\n and drink the water of affliction\n ...\n\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu","and\n gasps for breath. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with\n her sleeve. For a moment there is silence. Only her groans\n can be heard. The judges look at each other, not knowing what\n to do. Then they turn to Cauchon who is pondering. It is he\n who breaks the silence with the following words addressed to\n Massieu:\n\n There is nothing for it ... give\n the executioner his orders!\n\n While the doctors who have entered during the preceding scene\n are attending to Joan,","to continue. He asks Joan:\n\n Has God promised you anything?\n\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\n him what it is that God has promised.\n\n Can you not tell us what it is that\n God has promised you?\n\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\n\n You must tell us.\n\n But Joan declines to answer:\n\n That has nothing to do with your\n","at breaking point.\n\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\n pen in her hand; round Joan the excitement is palpable.\n People seem to be afraid of her dying.\n\n147 But Joan is like somebody who has escaped from a great\n danger, whose relief now finds expression in a tremendous\n joy, almost resembling gaiety.\n 36.\n\n\n148 She draws a circle, explaining as she does so that she is\n unable to write. But this is not"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"ade her:\\n\\n You must tell us.\\n\\n But Joan declines to answer:\\n\\n That has nothing to do with your\\n trial!**\\n\\n42 Cauchon maintains the contrary, and Joan tells him to ask the\\n assembly. Cauchon turns to the judges and asks:\\n 10.\\n\\n\\n Has this question any bearing on\\n the trial?\\n\\n He orders those who consider that it has to raise their\\n hands. Nearly every hand goes up. Then it is the turn of\\n those who\",\n \"his\\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\\n doctrines in deed as well as in word; and asks her if she has\\n anything to say in answer to this. She reflects for a moment\\n and, while the spectators stand on tiptoe to see what is\\n happening, she rises to her feet and says:\\n\\n I alone am responsible for\\n everything that I have said and\\n done ...\\n\\n Joan draws a deep breath\",\n \" 8.\\n\\n\\n31 An indication that another trap is being prepared. Then one\\n of the judges says:\\n\\n So it is God who has commanded you\\n to go about in men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan answers unhesitatingly:\\n\\n Yes!\\n\\n A smile of triumph spreads from face to face among Joan's\\n judges.\\n\\n32 The Promoter, Jean d'Estivet, complacently makes some notes.\\n Then he leans forward over his desk, smiles and asks in an\",\n \"Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\\n out:\\n\\n Long live the Maid! ... Long live\\n France!\\n\\n Two soldiers turn abruptly, force their way through the\\n crowd, seize the unfortunate man who has given vent to his\\n patriotic feelings, and lead him away.\\n\\n151 Joan has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\\n aloud:\\n\\n\",\n \"says with\\n great emphasis:\\n\\n Suppose we were to tell you now\\n that your visions did not - as you\\n believe - come from God ...\\n\\n Joan looks up quickly, as if unable to believe her ears. She\\n searches the faces of her judges, one after the other.\\n Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... but are sent to you by the\\n Devil, who wants to bring your soul\\n to perdition!\\n\\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\\n across her face. Almost\",\n \"\\n history of the world - the official\\n record of the trial of Joan of Arc.\\n\\n The Bibliothèque Nationale's original record of the trial of\\n Joan of Arc is shown on the screen. An invisible hand turns\\n over the manuscript pages.\\n\\n ... If you turn over the pages,\\n yellow with age, which contain the\\n account of her martyrdom ...\\n\\n Page after page is shown of this unique document with its\\n lines as straight as arrows, its marginal annotations, and\\n the naïve miniature drawings for\",\n \"of putrefaction arose from this\\n earth filled with dead bodies. The poisonous smell of\\n nothingness. The smell of stones, corpses and worms. Against\\n the buttress of the church two platforms have been erected\\n and covered with red velvet. On one of them the entire\\n assembly of judges is sitting in state: Pierre Cauchon, the\\n Inquisitor, and a host of jurists in scarlet caps and purple\\n skull-caps. The other platform is for Joan.\\n\\n128 Escorted by English soldiers, Joan'\",\n \"ues the matter further:\\n\\n Did he have any hair on his head?\\n\\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground, smiles\\n and answers with artless inspiration:\\n\\n Why should he have had it cut off?\\n\\n29 Cauchon sees that he will get nowhere with Joan by this\\n method. He confers with those sitting nearest him and then\\n gives way to the examining judge, who begins to question Joan\\n about her dress:\\n\\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan refuses several times\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \"immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\\n do so.\\n\\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\\n an inclination of the head and asks:\\n\\n You say that you are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\\n\\n To save France!\\n\\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\\n the right\",\n \"The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\\n the right words for her. Her expression, which is filled with\\n the glory of a heavenly vision, is almost unearthly as she\\n answers:\\n\\n That is why I was born!\\n\\n More contemptuous laughter from the judges. The examining\\n judge confers with the other judges. Their expressions show\\n that they are setting a new trap for Joan.\\n\\n20 Finally he says:\\n\\n So you\",\n \"trial has been unanimously agreed, she\\n is obliged to answer. He repeats his question:\\n\\n What has God promised you?\\n\\n Joan does not answer.\\n\\n44 Cauchon continues:\\n\\n Has God promised you that you will\\n be released from your prison?\\n\\n Joan confirms this with a nod. Dalleu speaks in a low voice\\n to Cauchon, who asks:\\n\\n When?\\n\\n After sitting for a while, lost in thought, Joan answers:\\n\\n I do not know the day\",\n \"6.\\n\\n\\n148 She draws a circle, explaining as she does so that she is\\n unable to write. But this is not good enough for Erard. So\\n Loiseleur steps forward and guides Joan's hand, enabling her\\n to write the word JEHANNE, followed by a cross. When Joan has\\n signed, Erard, with the document raised over his head, gives\\n a wink of triumph to let the judges know that he has\\n succeeded in his task. The document passes from hand to hand\\n until it reaches Loise\",\n \"the bishop and says to him:\\n\\n We are treating this woman like an\\n enemy - not like a human being on\\n trial!\\n\\n37 Then he casts a look full of tenderness at Joan, who at this\\n moment is drying her cheeks, still wet from Jean d'Estivet's\\n spittle. Houppeville continues:\\n\\n For me she is a saint!\\n\\n He goes over to her, genuflects before her, and turns to go\\n out through the door.\\n\\n38 Warwick has\",\n \"asking to die. He says\\n in a friendly tone:\\n\\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\\n front of everybody that you were\\n misled by the Devil.\\n\\n Joan, who has gradually regained her self-control, does not\\n answer immediately. It is only when the judges press her that\\n she replies:\\n\\n Everything I said was for fear of\\n the stake!\\n\\n Cauchon holds a whispered consultation with the others, but\\n it is clear that they all regard it as wasted effort to\\n\",\n \"\\n appear before us ...\\n\\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\\n the jailer. They lead Joan out.*\\n\\n8 THE CHAPEL\\n\\n Bishop Cauchon takes the chair for the trial. To either side\\n of him sit the Inquisitor, Lemaître, and Jean d'Estivet, who\\n is to present the case against Joan.\\n 3.\\n\\n\\n These three men are surrounded by the other forty-one\\n clerics, all men of learning, thoroughly versed in\",\n \"\\n The bishop, who is engaged in thumbing through some documents\\n which one of the prelates, Loiseleur, has just brought him,\\n discusses the request briefly with the Inquisitor, and\\n replies that he is obliged to deny her this favor because of\\n her indecent dress.\\n 4.\\n\\n\\n13 Then he opens the session and orders Joan to take the oath.\\n With a gesture he indicates that the Bible is to be fetched\\n and placed in front of Joan. She kneels, f\",\n \"that he is, has no difficulty in\\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am\",\n \" 3.\\n\\n\\n These three men are surrounded by the other forty-one\\n clerics, all men of learning, thoroughly versed in the art of\\n dragging confessions out of accused persons.\\n\\n A special table is reserved for the notaries.\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the accused to be brought in.\\n\\n9 Every face turns towards the entrance. They all see Joan for\\n the first time. It is so quiet in the chapel that you can\\n hear the grating noise of the chains round Joan's ankles.\\n\\n\",\n \"other judges. Their expressions show\\n that they are setting a new trap for Joan.\\n\\n20 Finally he says:\\n\\n So you believe that God hates the\\n English?\\n\\n Joan does not immediately understand the question, and the\\n examining judge has to repeat it. Then Joan gives one of her\\n brilliant, inspired answers:\\n\\n I know not whether God loves or\\n hates the English ...\\n\\n21 Disappointment on the judges' faces. Joan continues, with a\\n strength which suddenly reveals a new side of her character,\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\\n\\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\\n her eyes:\\n\\n Where will I be tonight?\\n\\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n\\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\\n question. She answers:\\n\\n My martyrdom ...\\n\\n Ladvenu nods. He looks at her as at a saint descended from\\n heaven. Yet he cannot refrain from asking one more question:\\n\\n And your release?\\n\\n Joan answers with a look of ecstasy in her eyes:\\n\\n ... Death ... !\\n\\n Her purity and the sincerity of her faith in God are almost\\n dazzling to Ladvenu\",\n \"'s answer, the preacher\\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\\n\\n Make her be quiet!\\n\\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\\n little scene.\\n\\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\",\n \"The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\\n the right words for her. Her expression, which is filled with\\n the glory of a heavenly vision, is almost unearthly as she\\n answers:\\n\\n That is why I was born!\\n\\n More contemptuous laughter from the judges. The examining\\n judge confers with the other judges. Their expressions show\\n that they are setting a new trap for Joan.\\n\\n20 Finally he says:\\n\\n So you\",\n \"says with\\n great emphasis:\\n\\n Suppose we were to tell you now\\n that your visions did not - as you\\n believe - come from God ...\\n\\n Joan looks up quickly, as if unable to believe her ears. She\\n searches the faces of her judges, one after the other.\\n Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... but are sent to you by the\\n Devil, who wants to bring your soul\\n to perdition!\\n\\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\\n across her face. Almost\",\n \"the\\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\\n\\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\\n Church is unable to protect you!\\n\\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\\n\\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\\n\\n Dear God, I accept my death\\n willingly and gladly ...\\n\\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\\n continues:\\n\\n \",\n \"to continue. He asks Joan:\\n\\n Has God promised you anything?\\n\\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\\n him what it is that God has promised.\\n\\n Can you not tell us what it is that\\n God has promised you?\\n\\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\\n\\n You must tell us.\\n\\n But Joan declines to answer:\\n\\n That has nothing to do with your\\n\",\n \", who begins to question Joan\\n about her dress:\\n\\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\\n\\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\\n dress?\\n\\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\\n secret, and says no to the\",\n \"from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\\n\\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\\n a short prayer.\\n\\n4 THE CH\",\n \"that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n His ways are not our ways!\\n\\n After a pause she adds:\\n\\n Yes, I am His child!\\n\\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\\n\\n And the great victory?\\n 42.\\n\\n\\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\\n question. She answers:\\n\\n My martyr\",\n \"\\n thoughts and remains silent. She looks in the direction of\\n Loiseleur, who is apparently absorbed in his own reflection.\\n He is abandoning her to her fate. In his view she is a\\n certain prey; whether she answers yes or no, she is doomed to\\n perdition. But now that Joan has collected her thoughts\\n again, she gives this admirable answer:\\n\\n If I am not, may God put me there!\\n And if I am, may God so keep me!\\n\\n77 Joan has broken the chain of beaters.\",\n \"addressed to her, and she thinks\\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\\n completely.\\n\\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\\n\\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\\n have been hurting intensely, bows\",\n \"immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\\n do so.\\n\\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\\n an inclination of the head and asks:\\n\\n You say that you are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\\n\\n To save France!\\n\\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\\n the right\",\n \"ieu says:\\n\\n At the stake!\\n\\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\\n\\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\\n Ladvenu says:\\n\\n How can you still believe that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n\",\n \", Lemaître and some of the other judges plot together.\\n\\n71 Lemaître leans forward and begins to question her:\\n\\n Has God promised you that you will\\n go to Paradise?\\n\\n Joan knows instinctively that they have laid a trap for her.\\n In her uncertainty she looks for help from Loiseleur, who\\n indicates to her with a slight smile that she is to say yes.\\n Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\\n says\",\n \" ... alone ...\\n\\n But a heavenly light shines from Joan's face. She smiles.\\n With her eyes raised to heaven she says:\\n\\n ... alone - with God!\\n\\n95 Cauchon, realizing that his prey is about to escape him,\\n increases his exertions and displays all his powers of\\n persuasion. Does she know that the Church has the means to\\n compel her? Is she familiar with the secrets of the torture?\\n Cauchon's threats make no impression on Joan.\\n\\n She feels safe with her\",\n \"Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\\n out.\\n\\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up\",\n \"too! It is as if in this little incident\\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\\n has lost by her abjuration.\\n\\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,\"\n ],\n [\n \"ur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\\n\\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\\n Charles, the King, hereby informs\\n you that he is preparing to advance\\n on Rouen with a mighty army. He is\\n sending you a faithful priest, who\\n will stand by you. Have confidence\\n in him.\\n\\n The reflection of an inner joy shines in her eyes. Her face\\n lights up during the reading and she smiles. Loiseleur does\\n not move from the spot. He stands watching her, motionless\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n Would you recognize your King's\\n signature?\\n\\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\\n visit. From his cowl he produces a letter which he hands to\\n Joan. She takes it. She shows with a smile that she\\n recognizes Charles VII's signature. Then she returns the\\n letter and says:\\n\\n I can't read!\\n\\n61 Loiseleur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\\n\\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\\n Charles, the King, hereby inform\",\n \"that he is, has no difficulty in\\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am\",\n \"and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\\n spectators is at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the\",\n \"6 Massieu has gone to fetch the Eucharist. A procession of\\n priests, wearing surplices and stoles, and carrying lights in\\n their hands, comes out of the chapel and goes in the\\n direction of the castle yard, singing litanies.\\n\\n167 Everyone in the castle yard kneels; the women are in tears.\\n To every entreaty the priests answer:\\n\\n Pray for her!\\n\\n168 Presently the procession arrives at Joan's cell, and she\\n prepares to receive the\",\n \"not a great\\n blessing?\\n\\n Joan nods, and her expression seems to want to say: of\\n course, everybody knows that the Church has no greater\\n treasure.\\n\\n Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... But you will never share in the\\n Church's blessings, if you do not\\n expiate your sins.\\n\\n113 He indicates to Joan that she must sign. One of the judges\\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\\n lies on Joan's face as she\",\n \". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\\n her king. God can hear her!\\n\\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\\n which Loiseleur presents his questions\",\n \"fails to notice this,\\n absorbed as she is in wondering why this prelate has come to\\n visit her. Loiseleur, who has now come right up to Joan,\\n hands her the ring, which she receives gratefully. Then she\\n again fixes her look of enquiry on the prelate, whom she has\\n previously seen among her judges.\\n\\n60 Finally he says to her in a low whisper:\\n\\n Would you recognize your King's\\n signature?\\n\\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\\n visit.\",\n \"that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am guilty of\\n the crimes with which I am charged,\\n and which the Devil has misled me\\n into committing. I confess that my\\n visions are the work of the Devil,\\n and I am ready to return to the\\n path of truth and, before all the\\n world, to recant ...\\n\\n94 When the notary has finished reading aloud, Cauchon tells\\n Joan warning\",\n \"elties. He\\n remains standing a few paces from her, looks at her in a\\n serious and friendly way and says:\\n\\n I have great sympathy for you!\\n\\n A feeble smile appears at the corners of Joan's mouth, but\\n her expression of astonishment remains.\\n\\n59 Loiseleur has stopped by the cross; when he takes a pace\\n forward the cross disappears; but Joan fails to notice this,\\n absorbed as she is in wondering why this prelate has come to\\n visit her. Loiseleur, who has\",\n \"at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the excitement is palpable.\\n People seem to be afraid of her dying.\\n\\n147 But Joan is like somebody who has escaped from a great\\n danger, whose relief now finds expression in a tremendous\\n joy, almost resembling gaiety.\\n 36.\\n\\n\\n148 She draws a circle, explaining as she does so that she is\\n unable to write. But this is not\",\n \".\\n\\n68 Lemaître continues with the hearing:\\n\\n Has God told you that you will be\\n released from your prison?\\n\\n Joan smiles and gives Loiseleur a secret, confidential\\n glance. His eyes gleam back at her in complicity. She\\n answers:\\n\\n Yes ... and by means of a great\\n victory!\\n\\n69 The judges are astonished and cross-examine her. They ask her\\n to explain precisely what she knows, and how she has come to\\n know it. But Joan answers:\\n\\n\",\n \"ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\\n ... now and in our last hour.\\n\\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\\n\\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \" Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\\n says:\\n\\n So you are certain of being saved?\\n 16.\\n\\n\\n72 Again Joan resorts to Loiseleur. He gives the same sign as\\n before, and Joan says yes.\\n\\n Massieu's eyes are as if riveted to Joan's lips, and now when\\n she answers yes he forgets where he is, forgets that Cauchon\\n is just beside\",\n \"the hiding-\\n place; he is perfectly aware of its existence. When he\\n reaches the chink, he and Cauchon look at each other. First\\n Cauchon's serious eye is shown through the chink, then -\\n likewise through the chink - Loiseleur's small, cunning,\\n contracted eye. Loiseleur catches sight of the crown and\\n says:\\n\\n Your martyr's crown.\\n\\n Then he turns to Joan, who is still sitting with the King's\\n letter in her hands.\",\n \"at Joan's side. He begins\\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\\n John's Gospel: 'The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except\\n it abide in the vine.' Inspiring terror at one moment,\\n speaking sanctimoniously the next, he warns, he threatens, he\\n implores, he mocks, he calls her a cunning traitor, cruel,\\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\\n measure with his words and finally reaches a\",\n \"from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\\n\\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\\n a short prayer.\\n\\n4 THE CH\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\\n aloud:\\n\\n In as much as you have at last\\n renounced the error of your ways,\\n we release you from excommunication\\n from the Church ...\\n\\n Cauchon pauses for a moment. Joan stands before her judges\\n with folded hands. A smile of gratitude is sketched on her\\n face. She lowers her head to conceal her joy. Then Cauchon\\n continues:\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"ur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\\n\\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\\n Charles, the King, hereby informs\\n you that he is preparing to advance\\n on Rouen with a mighty army. He is\\n sending you a faithful priest, who\\n will stand by you. Have confidence\\n in him.\\n\\n The reflection of an inner joy shines in her eyes. Her face\\n lights up during the reading and she smiles. Loiseleur does\\n not move from the spot. He stands watching her, motionless\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n Would you recognize your King's\\n signature?\\n\\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\\n visit. From his cowl he produces a letter which he hands to\\n Joan. She takes it. She shows with a smile that she\\n recognizes Charles VII's signature. Then she returns the\\n letter and says:\\n\\n I can't read!\\n\\n61 Loiseleur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\\n\\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\\n Charles, the King, hereby inform\",\n \"looks at\\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\\n\\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\\n away!\\n\\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\\n\\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\\n appear before us ...\\n\\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\\n the jailer. They lead Joan out\",\n \"Your martyr's crown.\\n\\n Then he turns to Joan, who is still sitting with the King's\\n letter in her hands. He offers to hear her confession.\\n\\n64 She turns to him with a look of joy, hardly daring to believe\\n in this happiness. She drops a pretty curtsy, then kneels\\n with folded hands in a charming attitude suggestive of a\\n penitent child. He advises her strongly to speak to him with\\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\\n her king.\",\n \"the hiding-\\n place; he is perfectly aware of its existence. When he\\n reaches the chink, he and Cauchon look at each other. First\\n Cauchon's serious eye is shown through the chink, then -\\n likewise through the chink - Loiseleur's small, cunning,\\n contracted eye. Loiseleur catches sight of the crown and\\n says:\\n\\n Your martyr's crown.\\n\\n Then he turns to Joan, who is still sitting with the King's\\n letter in her hands.\",\n \"fails to notice this,\\n absorbed as she is in wondering why this prelate has come to\\n visit her. Loiseleur, who has now come right up to Joan,\\n hands her the ring, which she receives gratefully. Then she\\n again fixes her look of enquiry on the prelate, whom she has\\n previously seen among her judges.\\n\\n60 Finally he says to her in a low whisper:\\n\\n Would you recognize your King's\\n signature?\\n\\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\\n visit.\",\n \"Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\\n out.\\n\\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up\",\n \". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\\n her king. God can hear her!\\n\\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\\n which Loiseleur presents his questions\",\n \"continues:\\n\\n There has never been a monster in\\n France like the one which has\\n appeared in the form of Joan.\\n\\n He pauses, leans towards her, and with a threatening gesture\\n shouts at Joan:\\n\\n It is to you, Joan, I am talking...\\n it is to you I say that your king\\n is a heretic!\\n 33.\\n\\n\\n137 Now Joan turns towards him. She can withstand all his\\n invective, when it is\",\n \"... you\\n must continue to fight for France\\n ... for the King of France.\\n\\n Joan feels a pang in the pit of her stomach when he\\n pronounces the name of her country and her king, which mean\\n everything to her and are never out of her thoughts.\\n\\n145 The spectators follow with anxiety and deep involvement\\n everything taking place on the platform. Those standing round\\n her, who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\\n sign\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"addressed to her, and she thinks\\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\\n completely.\\n\\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\\n\\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\\n have been hurting intensely, bows\",\n \"'s\\n eyes well over with tears. He is afraid he will be unable to\\n stifle his emotion and withdraws.\\n\\n170 The solemn ceremony is over. The monks leave.\\n\\n171 The jailer comes in with a coat which Joan is to wear.\\n 43.\\n\\n\\n172 Meanwhile rumors are circulating among the crowd in the area\\n behind the churchyard that Joan has withdrawn her abjuration.\\n Now they set out in swarms for the castle, pressing over the\",\n \"and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\\n spectators is at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the\",\n \"the bishop and says to him:\\n\\n We are treating this woman like an\\n enemy - not like a human being on\\n trial!\\n\\n37 Then he casts a look full of tenderness at Joan, who at this\\n moment is drying her cheeks, still wet from Jean d'Estivet's\\n spittle. Houppeville continues:\\n\\n For me she is a saint!\\n\\n He goes over to her, genuflects before her, and turns to go\\n out through the door.\\n\\n38 Warwick has\",\n \"that he is, has no difficulty in\\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am\",\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \"parapets of the\\n bridge in the hope of seeing a tiny fragment of the\\n unaccustomed spectacle.\\n\\n173 In between, scenes from the prison are shown. Joan is wearing\\n a coat that comes down to her feet, which are bare. Her\\n earlier calm seems to have disappeared. She prays and weeps\\n incessantly. Ladvenu and Massieu, who have returned to fetch\\n her, lead her away.\\n\\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\\n to many of those\",\n \"33.\\n\\n\\n137 Now Joan turns towards him. She can withstand all his\\n invective, when it is her own person and her own honor that\\n are at stake; but this accusation directed at her king deeply\\n outrages Joan's love of France and of Charles, the king. Her\\n expression is one of anger and indignation as she says:\\n\\n Indeed, my lord, I am ready to\\n maintain, even at the risk of my\\n life, that my king is the noblest\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"carried in, every neck is craned to catch a glimpse of her.\\n For her part Joan tries to read her destiny in their faces.\\n From the way they look at her she gets the impression that\\n their feelings towards her are friendly. Joan, who for months\\n has lived remote from this earth, is visibly moved. She\\n smiles at the tiny flowers which greet her from the grass.\\n She almost touches them with her hand and imagines that she\\n is caressing them. But when she looks in the other direction,\\n her eye falls on two gr\",\n \"addressed to her, and she thinks\\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\\n completely.\\n\\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\\n\\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\\n have been hurting intensely, bows\",\n \":\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\\n\\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\\n locks of hair fall on the ground. Joan weeps ceaselessly. The\\n events in the churchyard pass in succession before her eyes,\\n but now she sees them in relation to one another, from a new\\n angle and with a sharper perception. She realizes that it is\\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\\n\",\n \"Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\\n\\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\\n her eyes:\\n\\n Where will I be tonight?\\n\\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n \",\n \"the\\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\\n\\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\\n Church is unable to protect you!\\n\\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\\n\\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\\n\\n Dear God, I accept my death\\n willingly and gladly ...\\n\\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\\n continues:\\n\\n \",\n \". She feels ashamed. What has\\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\\n\\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\\n it up onto a shovel. He glances\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"is\\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\\n entreaty:\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired ...\\n\\n The jail\",\n \"Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\\n out.\\n\\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up\",\n \"too! It is as if in this little incident\\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\\n has lost by her abjuration.\\n\\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,\",\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \"ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\\n ... now and in our last hour.\\n\\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\\n\\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n\",\n \"at Joan's side. He begins\\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\\n John's Gospel: 'The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except\\n it abide in the vine.' Inspiring terror at one moment,\\n speaking sanctimoniously the next, he warns, he threatens, he\\n implores, he mocks, he calls her a cunning traitor, cruel,\\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\\n measure with his words and finally reaches a\",\n \". It is so quiet in the chapel that you can\\n hear the grating noise of the chains round Joan's ankles.\\n\\n10 Joan comes forward. Through the pointed, colored windows the\\n sunlight falls obliquely into the room in long shafts.\\n Suddenly Joan finds herself in the middle of one of these\\n shafts and stops for a moment. She becomes aware that every\\n eye is turned towards her; she sees that they are hard, cold\\n and uncomprehending. For a few seconds it seems as if she is\\n going\",\n \"nothing of what goes on around her escapes her\\n notice. She looks towards the open grave. She cannot see the\\n actual gravedigger, only the earth which he is shoveling up\\n from deep down. Then she hears a shout of command.\\n\\n135 In the densest part of the crowd the soldiers are clearing a\\n passage to allow a carriage into the churchyard. The new\\n arrivals are the executioner and his two assistants.\\n\\n136 Erard is enraged at Joan's apparent lack of interest in\",\n \", lets her head\\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\\n\\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\\n shouts:\\n\\n You have burnt a saint!\\n\\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\\n\\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\\n falls in ashes. Joan'\",\n \"at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the excitement is palpable.\\n People seem to be afraid of her dying.\\n\\n147 But Joan is like somebody who has escaped from a great\\n danger, whose relief now finds expression in a tremendous\\n joy, almost resembling gaiety.\\n 36.\\n\\n\\n148 She draws a circle, explaining as she does so that she is\\n unable to write. But this is not\",\n \"one faggot to another ... they advance\\n in little jumps over cavities and gaps in the fuel. Sparks\\n fly, smoke whirls up; through the smoke, which occasionally\\n conceals Joan, can be seen part of her\\n\\n195 Face, which is raised to heaven, and her mouth, which is\\n whispering prayers. Then her eyes seek Christ, whom Ladvenu\\n continues to hold up towards her; Christ who, like herself,\\n is enveloped in smoke.\\n\\n196 Through the smoke she sees the executioner\"\n ],\n [\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\\n earnestly to follow this advice.\\n\\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\",\n \"too! It is as if in this little incident\\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\\n has lost by her abjuration.\\n\\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,\",\n \"must sign. One of the judges\\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\\n lies on Joan's face as she sits there, sick, feverish and\\n racked with doubts. On one side she sees the wafer, which is\\n more precious to her than life itself, on the other side the\\n document, which will make her confess that she is an agent of\\n the Devil.\\n\\n114 As if talking to herself and her conscience, she says:\\n\\n I am a good Christian ...\\n\\n As she sits\",\n \"Church advises her to sign\\n she must do so. Once again she turns to Erard and asks him to\\n tell her whether she must abjure. He answers:\\n\\n Either you sign - or you will go to\\n the stake!\\n\\n and he points at the executioner, who at this moment\\n approaches at a sign from Warwick. Now Joan understands the\\n cruel death in store for her, and she is afraid. Jesus Christ\\n also was afraid when He learned that His hour was come. Fear\\n has overcome her spirit and is affecting her\",\n \"114 As if talking to herself and her conscience, she says:\\n\\n I am a good Christian ...\\n\\n As she sits there, alone with all these men, she is the\\n picture of utter despair and loneliness. They all gaze at her\\n with fixed stares. Nobody speaks to her. Finally Cauchon\\n breaks the silence. In a quiet voice he advises Joan to sign\\n and save her soul; but Joan has now mastered her temptation.\\n She hands back the paper. Her body is broken. But the\\n strength of her\",\n \"is\\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\\n entreaty:\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired ...\\n\\n The jail\",\n \"and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\\n spectators is at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the\",\n \"to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness to sign. A judge holds\\n the document out to her, but Joan thrusts it away so\\n violently that it falls on the ground. Somebody picks it up.\\n And Joan says vehemently:\\n\\n ... and if I should confess\\n anything, I will afterwards declare\\n that it was only by using force\\n that you made me confess.\\n 24.\\n\\n\\n96\",\n \"not a great\\n blessing?\\n\\n Joan nods, and her expression seems to want to say: of\\n course, everybody knows that the Church has no greater\\n treasure.\\n\\n Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... But you will never share in the\\n Church's blessings, if you do not\\n expiate your sins.\\n\\n113 He indicates to Joan that she must sign. One of the judges\\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\\n lies on Joan's face as she\",\n \"that he is, has no difficulty in\\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am\",\n \" She is very weak...\\n\\n The two men exchange glances. Cauchon and the judges have\\n come to extort a confession from Joan. 'whether because they\\n were afraid of her escaping in this way and dying without\\n having made a recantation, or because her weakened physical\\n condition raised hopes of her soul being easier to purchase.'\\n\\n Cauchon explains to Warwick how he wants to proceed.\\n Loiseleur joins in the discussion and proposes a drastic\\n remedy. Cauchon approves Loise\",\n \"auchon cuts him short and\\n orders the hearing to continue.\\n\\n73 Lemaître presents his next question, which is only one link\\n in a chain of questions carefully prepared and ingeniously\\n related:\\n\\n Since you are so certain of your\\n salvation ... why do you need to go\\n to confession?\\n\\n Joan is already floundering in the net. She has the feeling\\n that her answer may decide her destiny. She is like a hunted\\n animal that looks for the smallest gap in the chain of\\n beaters in the\",\n \"28.\\n\\n\\n111 The judges in the cell send up a prayer of thanks to God for\\n restoring this lost sheep to the fold. Joan smiles happily.\\n\\n Then the notary places a document in front of Joan and offers\\n her a pen. Joan looks in amazement at the document, which she\\n recognizes: it is the same declaration which was placed in\\n front of her for her to sign during the torture scene. Her\\n look of astonishment shifts from the notary to the document\\n and from the latter to Cauchon.\\n\\n\",\n \"ess by severity. The judges\\n are overcome by a feeling which can almost be called\\n irritation - irritation with Joan and what they call her pig-\\n headedness.\\n\\n118 Jean d'Estivet reproaches her harshly for allowing her vanity\\n to take precedence over the salvation of her soul. He\\n concludes with these words:\\n\\n If you die in this hour, you die as\\n an infidel...\\n\\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\\n subjected,\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \":\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\\n\\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\\n locks of hair fall on the ground. Joan weeps ceaselessly. The\\n events in the churchyard pass in succession before her eyes,\\n but now she sees them in relation to one another, from a new\\n angle and with a sharper perception. She realizes that it is\\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\\n\",\n \"to torture. While the executioners are\\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\\n\\n One instrument of torture after another is displayed for\\n Joan's benefit. With an executioner at her side she is\\n conducted past the various appliances. She looks at each one\\n for a long time, trembling with fear. Occasionally the\\n executioner demonstrates with a gesture how one of the\\n instruments is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n \",\n \"her expression. The\\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\\n executioner rises up before her, she surrenders.\\n\\n146 She casts a frightened glance at her surroundings; then she\\n slowly kneels and bows her head. Sommaire seizes the document\\n which has been placed in front of Joan for her signature and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in\",\n \"Is she familiar with the secrets of the torture?\\n Cauchon's threats make no impression on Joan.\\n\\n She feels safe with her God. Her face is transfigured by a\\n beautiful light as she says:\\n\\n I would rather die than deny God's\\n acts.\\n\\n Enraged by Joan's pig-headedness, Cauchon loses patience. He\\n orders Joan to be put to torture. While the executioners are\\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\\n\\n One instrument of torture after another is\"\n ],\n [\n \"and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\\n spectators is at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the\",\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \"must sign. One of the judges\\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\\n lies on Joan's face as she sits there, sick, feverish and\\n racked with doubts. On one side she sees the wafer, which is\\n more precious to her than life itself, on the other side the\\n document, which will make her confess that she is an agent of\\n the Devil.\\n\\n114 As if talking to herself and her conscience, she says:\\n\\n I am a good Christian ...\\n\\n As she sits\",\n \"28.\\n\\n\\n111 The judges in the cell send up a prayer of thanks to God for\\n restoring this lost sheep to the fold. Joan smiles happily.\\n\\n Then the notary places a document in front of Joan and offers\\n her a pen. Joan looks in amazement at the document, which she\\n recognizes: it is the same declaration which was placed in\\n front of her for her to sign during the torture scene. Her\\n look of astonishment shifts from the notary to the document\\n and from the latter to Cauchon.\\n\\n\",\n \"s in confirmation.\\n\\n163 Again the judges exchange looks. The notary raises his head\\n from his book. He examines the judges' faces searchingly,\\n looks at Joan and writes in his notes: 'Fatal answer.'\\n Cauchon has stood up. However dulled his human feelings may\\n be, it still goes against the grain with him to send Joan to\\n the stake, even though she herself is asking to die. He says\\n in a friendly tone:\\n\\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\\n front of everybody that\",\n \". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\\n her king. God can hear her!\\n\\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\\n which Loiseleur presents his questions\",\n \"not a great\\n blessing?\\n\\n Joan nods, and her expression seems to want to say: of\\n course, everybody knows that the Church has no greater\\n treasure.\\n\\n Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... But you will never share in the\\n Church's blessings, if you do not\\n expiate your sins.\\n\\n113 He indicates to Joan that she must sign. One of the judges\\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\\n lies on Joan's face as she\",\n \"Church advises her to sign\\n she must do so. Once again she turns to Erard and asks him to\\n tell her whether she must abjure. He answers:\\n\\n Either you sign - or you will go to\\n the stake!\\n\\n and he points at the executioner, who at this moment\\n approaches at a sign from Warwick. Now Joan understands the\\n cruel death in store for her, and she is afraid. Jesus Christ\\n also was afraid when He learned that His hour was come. Fear\\n has overcome her spirit and is affecting her\",\n \"too! It is as if in this little incident\\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\\n has lost by her abjuration.\\n\\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,\",\n \", who begins to question Joan\\n about her dress:\\n\\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\\n\\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\\n dress?\\n\\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\\n secret, and says no to the\",\n \"that he is, has no difficulty in\\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am\",\n \", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\\n earnestly to follow this advice.\\n\\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\",\n \"and\\n gasps for breath. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with\\n her sleeve. For a moment there is silence. Only her groans\\n can be heard. The judges look at each other, not knowing what\\n to do. Then they turn to Cauchon who is pondering. It is he\\n who breaks the silence with the following words addressed to\\n Massieu:\\n\\n There is nothing for it ... give\\n the executioner his orders!\\n\\n While the doctors who have entered during the preceding scene\\n are attending to Joan,\",\n \"accused. The judge continues:\\n\\n Do you not consider that these\\n learned doctors are likely to be\\n endowed with more wisdom than you\\n ...\\n\\n89 Joan nods half absent-mindedly. The judge is pleased with his\\n happy idea and is about to continue his course of instruction\\n when Joan interrupts him:\\n\\n ... but the wisdom of God is even\\n greater!\\n\\n The judge, who has spoken to Joan as one speaks to a child\\n which stubbornly refuses to listen to reason, shrugs his\\n shoulders and\",\n \"has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\\n aloud:\\n\\n In as much as you have at last\\n renounced the error of your ways,\\n we release you from excommunication\\n from the Church ...\\n\\n Cauchon pauses for a moment. Joan stands before her judges\\n with folded hands. A smile of gratitude is sketched on her\\n face. She lowers her head to conceal her joy. Then Cauchon\\n continues:\\n\\n\",\n \"declare\\n that it was only by using force\\n that you made me confess.\\n 24.\\n\\n\\n96 Joan collapses. The executioner bends over her. She has\\n fainted.\\n\\n97 The executioner and Massieu carry her out while the judges\\n confer on what procedure to adopt next.\\n\\n98 THE PRISON\\n\\n Massieu has gone on ahead to notify Joan's keeper, who sends\\n a man out with a message for Warwick. Massieu prepares Joan's\",\n \"asking to die. He says\\n in a friendly tone:\\n\\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\\n front of everybody that you were\\n misled by the Devil.\\n\\n Joan, who has gradually regained her self-control, does not\\n answer immediately. It is only when the judges press her that\\n she replies:\\n\\n Everything I said was for fear of\\n the stake!\\n\\n Cauchon holds a whispered consultation with the others, but\\n it is clear that they all regard it as wasted effort to\\n\",\n \"to torture. While the executioners are\\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\\n\\n One instrument of torture after another is displayed for\\n Joan's benefit. With an executioner at her side she is\\n conducted past the various appliances. She looks at each one\\n for a long time, trembling with fear. Occasionally the\\n executioner demonstrates with a gesture how one of the\\n instruments is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n \",\n \"ess by severity. The judges\\n are overcome by a feeling which can almost be called\\n irritation - irritation with Joan and what they call her pig-\\n headedness.\\n\\n118 Jean d'Estivet reproaches her harshly for allowing her vanity\\n to take precedence over the salvation of her soul. He\\n concludes with these words:\\n\\n If you die in this hour, you die as\\n an infidel...\\n\\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\\n subjected,\",\n \", Lemaître and some of the other judges plot together.\\n\\n71 Lemaître leans forward and begins to question her:\\n\\n Has God promised you that you will\\n go to Paradise?\\n\\n Joan knows instinctively that they have laid a trap for her.\\n In her uncertainty she looks for help from Loiseleur, who\\n indicates to her with a slight smile that she is to say yes.\\n Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\\n says\"\n ],\n [\n \"to the jailer and says with an air of\\n entreaty:\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired ...\\n\\n The jailer mumbles something incomprehensible. Sympathy is\\n not to be expected from this quarter. Joan feels like an\\n outcast; it is hard to imagine a greater humiliation for a\\n woman than to be shorn of her hair. And Joan is a woman.\\n\\n At last the cutting operation is concluded.\\n 38.\\n\\n\\n155 Joan gets up and sits on her bed\",\n \". She feels ashamed. What has\\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\\n\\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\\n it up onto a shovel. He glances\",\n \"her.\\n\\n154 THE PRISON\\n\\n Joan is escorted in by the jailer. He makes her sit down on a\\n stool and starts cutting off her hair. Joan is seized by a\\n new and dispiriting fear. Although she is in pain, she\\n manages to weep inaudibly, sobbing without a sound. When her\\n weeping eases off for a moment she whispers:\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\\n\\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\\n\",\n \":\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\\n\\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\\n locks of hair fall on the ground. Joan weeps ceaselessly. The\\n events in the churchyard pass in succession before her eyes,\\n but now she sees them in relation to one another, from a new\\n angle and with a sharper perception. She realizes that it is\\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\\n\",\n \"\\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\\n it up onto a shovel. He glances round the cell to see if\\n there is anything else he can sweep up while he is about it.\\n His eye falls on the plaited straw crown, the martyr's crown,\\n which has landed in a corner. Joan sees the broom gathering\\n in the crown. That too! It is as if in this little incident\\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\\n has lost by\",\n \"too! It is as if in this little incident\\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\\n has lost by her abjuration.\\n\\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,\",\n \"is\\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\\n entreaty:\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired ...\\n\\n The jail\",\n \"Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\\n out.\\n\\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up\",\n \"but it is\\n clearly understood that he has the last word in the matter.\\n They are considering what procedure to adopt. The point is to\\n lose as little time as possible in getting Joan to compromise\\n herself. Loiseleur propounds a scheme which receives general\\n approval. Warwick is asked a question, which he answers in\\n the affirmative. An order is given to a secretary, who at\\n once leaves the chapel.\\n\\n48 THE PRISON\\n\\n Massieu has brought Joan back. The door closes behind her.\\n Overcome\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"looks at\\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\\n\\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\\n away!\\n\\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\\n\\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\\n appear before us ...\\n\\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\\n the jailer. They lead Joan out\",\n \", who begins to question Joan\\n about her dress:\\n\\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\\n\\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\\n dress?\\n\\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\\n secret, and says no to the\",\n \"towards\\n these men who are revealing their true feelings, now that\\n they see her in such misery. She feels every confidence in\\n them and in Cauchon. He has caused her great suffering; now,\\n however, he appears no longer as a judge, but as one who has\\n come to show her goodness and compassion. And when Cauchon\\n strokes her hair and says:\\n\\n The Church is merciful ...\\n\\n Joan smiles trustfully.\\n\\n109 Cauchon continues:\\n\\n She does not close her heart\\n\",\n \"iously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up, turns it round in his\\n hands, and finally places it on Joan's head. Outraged by this\\n form of sacrilege, she removes it and puts it on the bed; but\\n the soldier replaces the crown on her head, at the same time\\n giving her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\\n\\n\",\n \"ues the matter further:\\n\\n Did he have any hair on his head?\\n\\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground, smiles\\n and answers with artless inspiration:\\n\\n Why should he have had it cut off?\\n\\n29 Cauchon sees that he will get nowhere with Joan by this\\n method. He confers with those sitting nearest him and then\\n gives way to the examining judge, who begins to question Joan\\n about her dress:\\n\\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan refuses several times\",\n \" At last the cutting operation is concluded.\\n 38.\\n\\n\\n155 Joan gets up and sits on her bed. She is like somebody who is\\n on the verge of collapse from lack of sleep, and who does\\n mechanically whatever he is told. Unconsciously she raises\\n her hands to her face, shudders and looks at her hands with\\n dread, as if they were unclean. She feels ashamed. What has\\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\\n denial, of his\",\n \"she sees\\n only utter benevolence and charitableness. In addition, all\\n the judges now seem full of affection and sympathy. They\\n tiptoe round her bed, first one and then another coming close\\n up to her. They tuck the blanket round her and touch the\\n place where she has been bled. Some of them kneel and pray\\n for Joan. She regrets not having been more amiable towards\\n these men who are revealing their true feelings, now that\\n they see her in such misery. She feels every confidence in\\n them\",\n \"from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\\n\\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\\n a short prayer.\\n\\n4 THE CH\"\n ],\n [\n \" ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n210 But the bystanders, who during these final scenes stand as if\\n paralyzed by the fire and by Joan's cries, are seized by a\\n mood compounded of fear and ecstasy. Outbursts of anger and\\n indignation against the oppressors can already be heard. The\\n English soldiers take up a threatening posture.\\n\\n211 The flames climb steadily higher.\",\n \"up on\\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is bound brutally to the\\n stake.\\n\\n Ladvenu remains standing. During Joan's prayer he remains\\n holding the crucifix in front of her, so that throughout she\\n can see her Savior. When the executioner has secured Joan he\\n descends. Ladvenu continues to speak words of comfort to\\n Joan.\\n\\n All around her are now in tears. Loiseleur weeps. Even\",\n \", lets her head\\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\\n\\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\\n shouts:\\n\\n You have burnt a saint!\\n\\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\\n\\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\\n falls in ashes. Joan'\",\n \".\\n\\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\\n fuel is piled up on a foundation of stone. The post to which\\n the victim is to be tied projects over the fuel. The\\n intention is for thousands of people to witness with their\\n own eyes that the Maid has really been burnt. A notice-board\\n is fastened to the stake, with the following inscription:\\n 'Heretic, Relapsed, Apostate, Idolatress.'\\n\\n Further away there is a platform for the judges\",\n \",\\n number and fierceness, are now fanning round her.\\n\\n204 The rope binding her to the stake begins to burn.\\n 47.\\n\\n\\n205 Joan is frantic with terror:\\n\\n Jesus!\\n\\n she screams in her agony.\\n\\n206 The echo repeats her cry in the sad and silent square. The\\n bystanders pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\",\n \"towards her; Christ who, like herself,\\n is enveloped in smoke.\\n\\n196 Through the smoke she sees the executioner stirring the fire,\\n\\n197 And a soldier on his knees trying to get near enough to the\\n bonfire to throw the martyr's crown on it.\\n\\n198 She also sees Massieu, who is sprinkling holy water on the\\n bonfire from his stoup.\\n\\n199 Meanwhile the judges have risen. The clerics are not allowed\\n to witness the actual execution,\",\n \"ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\\n ... now and in our last hour.\\n\\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\\n\\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n\",\n \"spite\\n of the pain and terror she does not forget her Christ -\\n indeed it is as if, with every second that passes, she is\\n coming steadily closer to Him.\\n\\n Jesus!\\n\\n she begins to scream in her long death-struggle.\\n\\n202 The weeping crowds repeat the name of Jesus.\\n\\n203 Innumerable tongues of flame, growing constantly in size,\\n number and fierceness, are now fanning round her.\\n\\n204 The rope binding her to the stake begins to burn\",\n \"ressors can already be heard. The\\n English soldiers take up a threatening posture.\\n\\n211 The flames climb steadily higher.\\n\\n212 The notice-board fastened over Joan's head goes up in flames\\n and falls into the bonfire.\\n\\n213 A last vision is caught of Joan's face, contorted in terror.\\n She pronounces once more the name of Jesus, lets her head\\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\\n bystanders, clenched fists are\",\n \"venu continues to speak words of comfort to\\n Joan.\\n\\n All around her are now in tears. Loiseleur weeps. Even\\n Cauchon weeps. The executioner has made his final\\n preparations.\\n\\n189 In his hand he holds the flaming torch which is to set the\\n bonfire alight.\\n\\n190 Joan suddenly catches sight of the fire, but her first\\n thought is not for herself: she thinks only of Ladvenu, who\\n seems to have forgotten the danger he is exposed to. She\",\n \" her, lead her away.\\n\\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\\n to many of those present as a vision from God. An old woman\\n approaches, hands Joan a cup of milk, weeps and kneels. The\\n poor child, who is herself in need of comfort, offers the\\n woman such comfort as she can, but the English soldiers put\\n an end to this scene.\\n\\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\\n fuel is piled up on a foundation\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"first\\n thought is not for herself: she thinks only of Ladvenu, who\\n seems to have forgotten the danger he is exposed to. She\\n shouts to him:\\n\\n The fire! Get down!\\n\\n191 But she implores him urgently to continue right up to the end\\n holding the cross raised before her eyes.\\n\\n192 The flames crackle and climb higher.\\n 46.\\n\\n\\n193 Suddenly a deathly hush descends on the square. A dull\\n silence. Only the\",\n \"addressed to her, and she thinks\\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\\n completely.\\n\\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\\n\\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\\n have been hurting intensely, bows\",\n \"English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\\n executioner to do his duty.\\n\\n187 Massieu returns with the processional cross. He shows it to\\n Joan; she is inexpressibly happy as she takes it with both\\n hands, kisses it with tears in her eyes, and addresses ardent\\n prayers to it.\\n\\n188 Now her eye falls on the executioner, who has climbed up on\\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is\",\n \"one faggot to another ... they advance\\n in little jumps over cavities and gaps in the fuel. Sparks\\n fly, smoke whirls up; through the smoke, which occasionally\\n conceals Joan, can be seen part of her\\n\\n195 Face, which is raised to heaven, and her mouth, which is\\n whispering prayers. Then her eyes seek Christ, whom Ladvenu\\n continues to hold up towards her; Christ who, like herself,\\n is enveloped in smoke.\\n\\n196 Through the smoke she sees the executioner\",\n \"she sees\\n only utter benevolence and charitableness. In addition, all\\n the judges now seem full of affection and sympathy. They\\n tiptoe round her bed, first one and then another coming close\\n up to her. They tuck the blanket round her and touch the\\n place where she has been bled. Some of them kneel and pray\\n for Joan. She regrets not having been more amiable towards\\n these men who are revealing their true feelings, now that\\n they see her in such misery. She feels every confidence in\\n them\",\n \"the English soldiers has heard Ladvenu's words to\\n Massieu. He extracts two bits of wood from a faggot lying\\n ready for the bonfire, and joins them so that they form a\\n modest little cross.\\n\\n185 Joan, who has followed his movements, is touched. She takes\\n the cross lovingly and reverently, and covers it with kisses.\\n\\n186 The English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\\n executioner to do his duty.\\n\\n187 Massieu returns with the processional\",\n \"scription:\\n 'Heretic, Relapsed, Apostate, Idolatress.'\\n\\n Further away there is a platform for the judges and the\\n English nobility; another is reserved for the preacher and\\n for spectators.\\n\\n176 When Joan has taken her place at the stake one of the judges,\\n Nicolas Midi, stands and begins his sermon:\\n\\n In the name of the Lord, amen!\\n\\n177 For Joan it is as if his voice has reached her from far away.\\n She weeps\",\n \" 46.\\n\\n\\n193 Suddenly a deathly hush descends on the square. A dull\\n silence. Only the crackle of the flames and the mumbled\\n prayers of the priests can be heard. Oppressed by this\\n stillness, some of the spectators fall on their knees, and\\n others follow their example. Many of them light wax candles.\\n\\n194 The flames leap from one faggot to another ... they advance\\n in little jumps over cavities and gaps in the fuel. Sparks\\n fly, smoke wh\"\n ],\n [\n \"Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\\n out.\\n\\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up\",\n \"looks at\\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\\n\\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\\n away!\\n\\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\\n\\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\\n appear before us ...\\n\\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\\n the jailer. They lead Joan out\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \"English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\\n executioner to do his duty.\\n\\n187 Massieu returns with the processional cross. He shows it to\\n Joan; she is inexpressibly happy as she takes it with both\\n hands, kisses it with tears in her eyes, and addresses ardent\\n prayers to it.\\n\\n188 Now her eye falls on the executioner, who has climbed up on\\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is\",\n \". She feels ashamed. What has\\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\\n\\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\\n it up onto a shovel. He glances\",\n \"ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\\n ... now and in our last hour.\\n\\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\\n\\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n\",\n \"parapets of the\\n bridge in the hope of seeing a tiny fragment of the\\n unaccustomed spectacle.\\n\\n173 In between, scenes from the prison are shown. Joan is wearing\\n a coat that comes down to her feet, which are bare. Her\\n earlier calm seems to have disappeared. She prays and weeps\\n incessantly. Ladvenu and Massieu, who have returned to fetch\\n her, lead her away.\\n\\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\\n to many of those\",\n \"the English soldiers has heard Ladvenu's words to\\n Massieu. He extracts two bits of wood from a faggot lying\\n ready for the bonfire, and joins them so that they form a\\n modest little cross.\\n\\n185 Joan, who has followed his movements, is touched. She takes\\n the cross lovingly and reverently, and covers it with kisses.\\n\\n186 The English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\\n executioner to do his duty.\\n\\n187 Massieu returns with the processional\",\n \"iously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up, turns it round in his\\n hands, and finally places it on Joan's head. Outraged by this\\n form of sacrilege, she removes it and puts it on the bed; but\\n the soldier replaces the crown on her head, at the same time\\n giving her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\\n\\n\",\n \"her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\\n\\n84 The other soldiers roar with laughter and say in mocking\\n tones:\\n\\n She looks just like a daughter of\\n God, eh?\\n\\n He takes an arrow from his quiver, and places it in Joan's\\n hands. She lets him do this without resistance.\\n 20.\\n\\n\\n Another soldier takes a pitcher of water, and sprinkles Joan\",\n \"orts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n English soldiers grow impatient, and one of their officers\\n approaches the platform and says:\\n\\n Look here, priest, are you going to\\n be all day?\\n\\n183 Ladvenu insists on his right to prepare the young woman for\\n death. And he says to Massieu, who is bringing him a small\\n missal:\\n\\n Joan wishes to have a cross with\\n her\",\n \"hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu's arm.\\n\\n152-3 THE GATEWAY LEADING INTO THE CASTLE YARD\\n\\n Joan meets the two soldiers who earlier maintained that she\\n had made fools of her judges. They heap abuse upon her, and\\n Massieu has to protect her.\\n\\n154 THE PRISON\\n\\n Joan is escorted in by the jailer. He makes her sit down on a\",\n \"that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n His ways are not our ways!\\n\\n After a pause she adds:\\n\\n Yes, I am His child!\\n\\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\\n\\n And the great victory?\\n 42.\\n\\n\\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\\n question. She answers:\\n\\n My martyr\",\n \"in shouts of\\n joy. But one or two English soldiers, who have seen Joan's\\n smile, go up to her and shout at the priests around her:\\n\\n She has only made fools of you!\\n\\n The priests push them away. Cauchon, who has received the\\n document, now gives a signal for Joan to come forward and\\n hear her sentence of judgement.\\n\\n150 Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\\n out:\",\n \", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\\n earnestly to follow this advice.\\n\\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"6 Massieu has gone to fetch the Eucharist. A procession of\\n priests, wearing surplices and stoles, and carrying lights in\\n their hands, comes out of the chapel and goes in the\\n direction of the castle yard, singing litanies.\\n\\n167 Everyone in the castle yard kneels; the women are in tears.\\n To every entreaty the priests answer:\\n\\n Pray for her!\\n\\n168 Presently the procession arrives at Joan's cell, and she\\n prepares to receive the\",\n \"\\n21 Disappointment on the judges' faces. Joan continues, with a\\n strength which suddenly reveals a new side of her character,\\n and turning towards the English soldiers:\\n 6.\\n\\n\\n But I know for certain that the\\n English will all be driven out of\\n France ...\\n\\n Commotion and protests among the soldiers: why should Joan be\\n allowed to insult England? But Joan continues inflexibly:\\n\\n ... except for those who are going\\n to die here!\\n\\n The soldiers are furious. They can no\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\\n\\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\\n a short prayer.\\n\\n4 THE CH\"\n ],\n [\n \" her, lead her away.\\n\\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\\n to many of those present as a vision from God. An old woman\\n approaches, hands Joan a cup of milk, weeps and kneels. The\\n poor child, who is herself in need of comfort, offers the\\n woman such comfort as she can, but the English soldiers put\\n an end to this scene.\\n\\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\\n fuel is piled up on a foundation\",\n \"that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n His ways are not our ways!\\n\\n After a pause she adds:\\n\\n Yes, I am His child!\\n\\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\\n\\n And the great victory?\\n 42.\\n\\n\\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\\n question. She answers:\\n\\n My martyr\",\n \"bridge, which is then raised. Many fall\\n victim to the soldiers' brutality or are trampled to death.\\n\\n217 The smoke rises in a column, concealing Joan.\\n\\n218 On Warwick's orders the executioner rakes through the fire.\\n Normally no trace of Joan should remain - but what is this?\\n Joan's heart is undamaged. He shows it to Warwick and pours\\n oil on the flames, but still the heart will not catch fire.\\n He tries in vain, with the help of sul\",\n \"a\\n whisper which is barely audible to anybody but herself she\\n says:\\n\\n I have done no wrong ... I believe\\n in the twelve articles of the Creed\\n and in God's Ten Commandments!\\n\\n143 Even Erard's heart bleeds at the sight of such deep\\n unhappiness. His tone changes, and his voice becomes almost\\n syrupy as he says:\\n\\n Joan, we have great sympathy for\\n you!\\n 35.\\n\\n\\n Warwick gives\",\n \"her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\\n\\n84 The other soldiers roar with laughter and say in mocking\\n tones:\\n\\n She looks just like a daughter of\\n God, eh?\\n\\n He takes an arrow from his quiver, and places it in Joan's\\n hands. She lets him do this without resistance.\\n 20.\\n\\n\\n Another soldier takes a pitcher of water, and sprinkles Joan\",\n \"the\\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\\n\\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\\n Church is unable to protect you!\\n\\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\\n\\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\\n\\n Dear God, I accept my death\\n willingly and gladly ...\\n\\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\\n continues:\\n\\n \",\n \"orts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n English soldiers grow impatient, and one of their officers\\n approaches the platform and says:\\n\\n Look here, priest, are you going to\\n be all day?\\n\\n183 Ladvenu insists on his right to prepare the young woman for\\n death. And he says to Massieu, who is bringing him a small\\n missal:\\n\\n Joan wishes to have a cross with\\n her\",\n \"and is hidden by columns.\\n At one point we see him in conversation with Loiseleur.\\n\\n15 Joan has sat down again, and the hearing begins. Cauchon asks\\n Joan her name. She answers:\\n\\n At home I am called Jeannette ...\\n Here they call me Joan!\\n\\n16 Cauchon asks her age. Joan thinks and counts on her fingers:\\n\\n Nineteen ... I think.\\n\\n17 Cauchon, after smiling to his neighbor, asks:\\n\\n Can you say Our Father?\\n\",\n \", lets her head\\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\\n\\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\\n shouts:\\n\\n You have burnt a saint!\\n\\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\\n\\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\\n falls in ashes. Joan'\",\n \"ieu says:\\n\\n At the stake!\\n\\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\\n\\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\\n Ladvenu says:\\n\\n How can you still believe that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n\",\n \"Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\\n out:\\n\\n Long live the Maid! ... Long live\\n France!\\n\\n Two soldiers turn abruptly, force their way through the\\n crowd, seize the unfortunate man who has given vent to his\\n patriotic feelings, and lead him away.\\n\\n151 Joan has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\\n aloud:\\n\\n\",\n \"the bishop and says to him:\\n\\n We are treating this woman like an\\n enemy - not like a human being on\\n trial!\\n\\n37 Then he casts a look full of tenderness at Joan, who at this\\n moment is drying her cheeks, still wet from Jean d'Estivet's\\n spittle. Houppeville continues:\\n\\n For me she is a saint!\\n\\n He goes over to her, genuflects before her, and turns to go\\n out through the door.\\n\\n38 Warwick has\",\n \"from every throat.\\n\\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\\n falls in ashes. Joan's body totters and sinks into the\\n bonfire.\\n 48.\\n\\n\\n216 At a sign from Warwick the soldiers pursue the mob out of the\\n castle yard with thrusts of their lances, through the gate\\n and over the drawbridge, which is then raised. Many fall\\n victim to the soldiers' brutality or are trampled to death.\\n\\n217 The\",\n \"ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\\n ... now and in our last hour.\\n\\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\\n\\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"the ground he has won. He\\n asks a new question:\\n\\n Was he naked?\\n\\n Every ear strains to hear the reply, for now Joan has to\\n answer. And again she produces one of her brilliant, careful\\n answers:\\n\\n Do you not believe that God would\\n have clothes for him?\\n\\n28 Cauchon realizes that his stratagem has failed, but\\n nevertheless he pursues the matter further:\\n\\n Did he have any hair on his head?\\n\\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground\",\n \"Church advises her to sign\\n she must do so. Once again she turns to Erard and asks him to\\n tell her whether she must abjure. He answers:\\n\\n Either you sign - or you will go to\\n the stake!\\n\\n and he points at the executioner, who at this moment\\n approaches at a sign from Warwick. Now Joan understands the\\n cruel death in store for her, and she is afraid. Jesus Christ\\n also was afraid when He learned that His hour was come. Fear\\n has overcome her spirit and is affecting her\",\n \"to continue. He asks Joan:\\n\\n Has God promised you anything?\\n\\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\\n him what it is that God has promised.\\n\\n Can you not tell us what it is that\\n God has promised you?\\n\\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\\n\\n You must tell us.\\n\\n But Joan declines to answer:\\n\\n That has nothing to do with your\\n\",\n \"continues:\\n\\n There has never been a monster in\\n France like the one which has\\n appeared in the form of Joan.\\n\\n He pauses, leans towards her, and with a threatening gesture\\n shouts at Joan:\\n\\n It is to you, Joan, I am talking...\\n it is to you I say that your king\\n is a heretic!\\n 33.\\n\\n\\n137 Now Joan turns towards him. She can withstand all his\\n invective, when it is\"\n ],\n [\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"asking to die. He says\\n in a friendly tone:\\n\\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\\n front of everybody that you were\\n misled by the Devil.\\n\\n Joan, who has gradually regained her self-control, does not\\n answer immediately. It is only when the judges press her that\\n she replies:\\n\\n Everything I said was for fear of\\n the stake!\\n\\n Cauchon holds a whispered consultation with the others, but\\n it is clear that they all regard it as wasted effort to\\n\",\n \"to continue. He asks Joan:\\n\\n Has God promised you anything?\\n\\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\\n him what it is that God has promised.\\n\\n Can you not tell us what it is that\\n God has promised you?\\n\\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\\n\\n You must tell us.\\n\\n But Joan declines to answer:\\n\\n That has nothing to do with your\\n\",\n \"immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\\n do so.\\n\\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\\n an inclination of the head and asks:\\n\\n You say that you are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\\n\\n To save France!\\n\\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\\n the right\",\n \"says with\\n great emphasis:\\n\\n Suppose we were to tell you now\\n that your visions did not - as you\\n believe - come from God ...\\n\\n Joan looks up quickly, as if unable to believe her ears. She\\n searches the faces of her judges, one after the other.\\n Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... but are sent to you by the\\n Devil, who wants to bring your soul\\n to perdition!\\n\\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\\n across her face. Almost\",\n \"Church advises her to sign\\n she must do so. Once again she turns to Erard and asks him to\\n tell her whether she must abjure. He answers:\\n\\n Either you sign - or you will go to\\n the stake!\\n\\n and he points at the executioner, who at this moment\\n approaches at a sign from Warwick. Now Joan understands the\\n cruel death in store for her, and she is afraid. Jesus Christ\\n also was afraid when He learned that His hour was come. Fear\\n has overcome her spirit and is affecting her\",\n \", then continues:\\n\\n ... who has deceived you ...\\n\\n Then after another short pause:\\n\\n ... and betrayed you?\\n\\n While Cauchon has been speaking a change has come over Joan.\\n It is clear that she is tormented by doubts. God has promised\\n her that she will be set free. Why has God not kept his\\n promise to her? Why does he let her stand alone against all\\n these churchmen, these learned doctors? She even asks herself\\n whether she has the right to talk as she does in front of all\\n\",\n \"pers to the others, letting them in on Loiseleur's plan.\\n Then he approaches Joan and says to her in his mildest voice:\\n 18.\\n\\n\\n Joan, if you were allowed to go to\\n Mass now ...\\n\\n Joan looks up at Cauchon. Her eyes are already gleaming with\\n hope and expectation. Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... would you consent to give up\\n your men's clothes?\\n\\n When Joan hears this condition, her hope is extinguished as\\n rapidly as\",\n \". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\\n her king. God can hear her!\\n\\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\\n which Loiseleur presents his questions\",\n \", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\\n earnestly to follow this advice.\\n\\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\",\n \"Is she familiar with the secrets of the torture?\\n Cauchon's threats make no impression on Joan.\\n\\n She feels safe with her God. Her face is transfigured by a\\n beautiful light as she says:\\n\\n I would rather die than deny God's\\n acts.\\n\\n Enraged by Joan's pig-headedness, Cauchon loses patience. He\\n orders Joan to be put to torture. While the executioners are\\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\\n\\n One instrument of torture after another is\",\n \"ieu says:\\n\\n At the stake!\\n\\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\\n\\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\\n Ladvenu says:\\n\\n How can you still believe that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n\",\n \", Lemaître and some of the other judges plot together.\\n\\n71 Lemaître leans forward and begins to question her:\\n\\n Has God promised you that you will\\n go to Paradise?\\n\\n Joan knows instinctively that they have laid a trap for her.\\n In her uncertainty she looks for help from Loiseleur, who\\n indicates to her with a slight smile that she is to say yes.\\n Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\\n says\",\n \"that he is, has no difficulty in\\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am\",\n \" She is very weak...\\n\\n The two men exchange glances. Cauchon and the judges have\\n come to extort a confession from Joan. 'whether because they\\n were afraid of her escaping in this way and dying without\\n having made a recantation, or because her weakened physical\\n condition raised hopes of her soul being easier to purchase.'\\n\\n Cauchon explains to Warwick how he wants to proceed.\\n Loiseleur joins in the discussion and proposes a drastic\\n remedy. Cauchon approves Loise\",\n \"goes back to the larger platform where he takes his\\n place near Cauchon, who now gets up and declares the session\\n opened.\\n\\n Joan, for the last time I order you\\n to abjure. Are you willing to sign?\\n\\n Joan sits motionless and expressionless. She hears nothing,\\n and smiles distantly.\\n\\n133 One of the prelates takes his place at Joan's side. He begins\\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\\n John's Gospel\",\n \"Joan to say the Our Father. She\\n refuses. Jean d'Estivet and Cauchon exchange glances. Cauchon\\n tells her urgently to do his bidding, but Joan refuses again,\\n for she is afraid that memories of her mother and her home in\\n Domrémy are going to overwhelm her.\\n\\n Cauchon puts further pressure on her: she is to repeat the\\n Our Father immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\\n do so.\\n\\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness\",\n \"other judges. Their expressions show\\n that they are setting a new trap for Joan.\\n\\n20 Finally he says:\\n\\n So you believe that God hates the\\n English?\\n\\n Joan does not immediately understand the question, and the\\n examining judge has to repeat it. Then Joan gives one of her\\n brilliant, inspired answers:\\n\\n I know not whether God loves or\\n hates the English ...\\n\\n21 Disappointment on the judges' faces. Joan continues, with a\\n strength which suddenly reveals a new side of her character,\\n\",\n \", you die as\\n an infidel...\\n\\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\\n subjected, answers in words conjured up by her sancta\\n simplicitas; but Jean d'Estivet, revelling in the pain his\\n speech has given Joan, obliterates her with the wounding\\n words, which sting like the lash of a whip:\\n\\n Your soul is doomed to perdition\\n ...\\n\\n To which one of the others adds:\\n\\n ... to everlast\"\n ],\n [\n \"that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n His ways are not our ways!\\n\\n After a pause she adds:\\n\\n Yes, I am His child!\\n\\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\\n\\n And the great victory?\\n 42.\\n\\n\\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\\n question. She answers:\\n\\n My martyr\",\n \"immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\\n do so.\\n\\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\\n an inclination of the head and asks:\\n\\n You say that you are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\\n\\n To save France!\\n\\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\\n the right\",\n \"to continue. He asks Joan:\\n\\n Has God promised you anything?\\n\\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\\n him what it is that God has promised.\\n\\n Can you not tell us what it is that\\n God has promised you?\\n\\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\\n\\n You must tell us.\\n\\n But Joan declines to answer:\\n\\n That has nothing to do with your\\n\",\n \"ieu says:\\n\\n At the stake!\\n\\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\\n\\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\\n Ladvenu says:\\n\\n How can you still believe that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n\",\n \"lonely and unhappy.\\n She has no doubt that it is God who sends her solace and\\n encouragement in this way. She dries her eyes and produces\\n from a hiding-place a piece of handiwork, with which she\\n occupies her hands and her thoughts when she is not before\\n the judges. It is a crown of plaited straw - very simple,\\n pretty and childlike. Soon she is completely absorbed in this\\n work, to which she devotes all her love. We see the Joan from\\n Domrémy who 'is second to no woman\",\n \"says with\\n great emphasis:\\n\\n Suppose we were to tell you now\\n that your visions did not - as you\\n believe - come from God ...\\n\\n Joan looks up quickly, as if unable to believe her ears. She\\n searches the faces of her judges, one after the other.\\n Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... but are sent to you by the\\n Devil, who wants to bring your soul\\n to perdition!\\n\\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\\n across her face. Almost\",\n \"God put me there!\\n And if I am, may God so keep me!\\n\\n77 Joan has broken the chain of beaters. She realizes this and\\n smiles. But her judges, who have sat there greedily waiting\\n for the prey to fall into the net so that they can hurl\\n themselves on it - these judges now sit not knowing what to\\n say or where to look. They gaze at each other in speechless\\n amazement. Some of them unconsciously make the sign of the\\n cross. Loiseleur is beyond doubt the most discon\",\n \"trial has been unanimously agreed, she\\n is obliged to answer. He repeats his question:\\n\\n What has God promised you?\\n\\n Joan does not answer.\\n\\n44 Cauchon continues:\\n\\n Has God promised you that you will\\n be released from your prison?\\n\\n Joan confirms this with a nod. Dalleu speaks in a low voice\\n to Cauchon, who asks:\\n\\n When?\\n\\n After sitting for a while, lost in thought, Joan answers:\\n\\n I do not know the day\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \".\\n\\n68 Lemaître continues with the hearing:\\n\\n Has God told you that you will be\\n released from your prison?\\n\\n Joan smiles and gives Loiseleur a secret, confidential\\n glance. His eyes gleam back at her in complicity. She\\n answers:\\n\\n Yes ... and by means of a great\\n victory!\\n\\n69 The judges are astonished and cross-examine her. They ask her\\n to explain precisely what she knows, and how she has come to\\n know it. But Joan answers:\\n\\n\",\n \"He orders those who consider that it has to raise their\\n hands. Nearly every hand goes up. Then it is the turn of\\n those who take the opposite view. Ladvenu is the only one to\\n raise his hand, but when he sees that he is entirely alone he\\n takes it down again.\\n\\n43 And Cauchon is able to say to Joan that, since the relevance\\n of the question to the trial has been unanimously agreed, she\\n is obliged to answer. He repeats his question:\\n\\n What has God promised you?\",\n \", then continues:\\n\\n ... who has deceived you ...\\n\\n Then after another short pause:\\n\\n ... and betrayed you?\\n\\n While Cauchon has been speaking a change has come over Joan.\\n It is clear that she is tormented by doubts. God has promised\\n her that she will be set free. Why has God not kept his\\n promise to her? Why does he let her stand alone against all\\n these churchmen, these learned doctors? She even asks herself\\n whether she has the right to talk as she does in front of all\\n\",\n \"\\n thoughts and remains silent. She looks in the direction of\\n Loiseleur, who is apparently absorbed in his own reflection.\\n He is abandoning her to her fate. In his view she is a\\n certain prey; whether she answers yes or no, she is doomed to\\n perdition. But now that Joan has collected her thoughts\\n again, she gives this admirable answer:\\n\\n If I am not, may God put me there!\\n And if I am, may God so keep me!\\n\\n77 Joan has broken the chain of beaters.\",\n \", Lemaître and some of the other judges plot together.\\n\\n71 Lemaître leans forward and begins to question her:\\n\\n Has God promised you that you will\\n go to Paradise?\\n\\n Joan knows instinctively that they have laid a trap for her.\\n In her uncertainty she looks for help from Loiseleur, who\\n indicates to her with a slight smile that she is to say yes.\\n Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\\n says\",\n \" 8.\\n\\n\\n31 An indication that another trap is being prepared. Then one\\n of the judges says:\\n\\n So it is God who has commanded you\\n to go about in men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan answers unhesitatingly:\\n\\n Yes!\\n\\n A smile of triumph spreads from face to face among Joan's\\n judges.\\n\\n32 The Promoter, Jean d'Estivet, complacently makes some notes.\\n Then he leans forward over his desk, smiles and asks in an\",\n \"the\\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\\n\\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\\n Church is unable to protect you!\\n\\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\\n\\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\\n\\n Dear God, I accept my death\\n willingly and gladly ...\\n\\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\\n continues:\\n\\n \",\n \"orts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n English soldiers grow impatient, and one of their officers\\n approaches the platform and says:\\n\\n Look here, priest, are you going to\\n be all day?\\n\\n183 Ladvenu insists on his right to prepare the young woman for\\n death. And he says to Massieu, who is bringing him a small\\n missal:\\n\\n Joan wishes to have a cross with\\n her\",\n \" ... alone ...\\n\\n But a heavenly light shines from Joan's face. She smiles.\\n With her eyes raised to heaven she says:\\n\\n ... alone - with God!\\n\\n95 Cauchon, realizing that his prey is about to escape him,\\n increases his exertions and displays all his powers of\\n persuasion. Does she know that the Church has the means to\\n compel her? Is she familiar with the secrets of the torture?\\n Cauchon's threats make no impression on Joan.\\n\\n She feels safe with her\",\n \"him do this without resistance.\\n 20.\\n\\n\\n Another soldier takes a pitcher of water, and sprinkles Joan\\n with his fingers. All three bow low before her as if she was\\n a saint, and finally kneel and say:\\n\\n Saint Joan, pray for us!\\n\\n Then, still bowing, they step back and go out.\\n\\n Joan sits for a moment by herself. Without changing her\\n position she prays silently to God. She is praying to the\\n Almighty for strength and courage to end\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\"\n ],\n [\n \"ur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\\n\\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\\n Charles, the King, hereby informs\\n you that he is preparing to advance\\n on Rouen with a mighty army. He is\\n sending you a faithful priest, who\\n will stand by you. Have confidence\\n in him.\\n\\n The reflection of an inner joy shines in her eyes. Her face\\n lights up during the reading and she smiles. Loiseleur does\\n not move from the spot. He stands watching her, motionless\\n \",\n \"and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\\n spectators is at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the\",\n \"\\n\\n Would you recognize your King's\\n signature?\\n\\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\\n visit. From his cowl he produces a letter which he hands to\\n Joan. She takes it. She shows with a smile that she\\n recognizes Charles VII's signature. Then she returns the\\n letter and says:\\n\\n I can't read!\\n\\n61 Loiseleur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\\n\\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\\n Charles, the King, hereby inform\",\n \"that he is, has no difficulty in\\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am\",\n \"the hiding-\\n place; he is perfectly aware of its existence. When he\\n reaches the chink, he and Cauchon look at each other. First\\n Cauchon's serious eye is shown through the chink, then -\\n likewise through the chink - Loiseleur's small, cunning,\\n contracted eye. Loiseleur catches sight of the crown and\\n says:\\n\\n Your martyr's crown.\\n\\n Then he turns to Joan, who is still sitting with the King's\\n letter in her hands.\",\n \"While he is thus occupied, Massieu enters. He is an engaging\\n young man of twenty-five, healthy, vivacious and open; he\\n radiates youth, health and life. He remains standing by the\\n door until the others have left the cell. The jailer, who\\n goes out last, certifies that the prisoner is the Maid. The\\n door closes behind the jailer. And now that Massieu is alone\\n with this woman, whom he has heard described as a dangerous\\n witch and an object of fear - he is afraid. He prays\\n \",\n \"Go and fetch the judges ... I take\\n back ... I regret ... I have lied\\n ...\\n\\n She looks at him with tear-stained eyes and gives him a push\\n to make him go and tell the prelates. She is seized by a\\n deadly fear, she is terrified that a new fit of weakness will\\n master her before she can put into effect the decision she\\n has just made. She knows that this decision will probably\\n lead to her death, but this she feels strong enough to meet.\\n And now that the first step has been taken she\",\n \"to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness to sign. A judge holds\\n the document out to her, but Joan thrusts it away so\\n violently that it falls on the ground. Somebody picks it up.\\n And Joan says vehemently:\\n\\n ... and if I should confess\\n anything, I will afterwards declare\\n that it was only by using force\\n that you made me confess.\\n 24.\\n\\n\\n96\",\n \":\\n\\n I alone am responsible for\\n everything that I have said and\\n done ...\\n\\n Joan draws a deep breath before continuing. All those\\n standing round her gaze at her expectantly. Then she says:\\n\\n ... If have done any wrong, I am to\\n blame, and nobody else!\\n\\n140 She sits down calmly. Erard, however, is almost inclined to\\n interpret her words as a declaration that she is now ready to\\n recognize the error of her ways. He leans forward towards the\\n not\",\n \"a\\n whisper which is barely audible to anybody but herself she\\n says:\\n\\n I have done no wrong ... I believe\\n in the twelve articles of the Creed\\n and in God's Ten Commandments!\\n\\n143 Even Erard's heart bleeds at the sight of such deep\\n unhappiness. His tone changes, and his voice becomes almost\\n syrupy as he says:\\n\\n Joan, we have great sympathy for\\n you!\\n 35.\\n\\n\\n Warwick gives\",\n \"Your martyr's crown.\\n\\n Then he turns to Joan, who is still sitting with the King's\\n letter in her hands. He offers to hear her confession.\\n\\n64 She turns to him with a look of joy, hardly daring to believe\\n in this happiness. She drops a pretty curtsy, then kneels\\n with folded hands in a charming attitude suggestive of a\\n penitent child. He advises her strongly to speak to him with\\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\\n her king.\",\n \"fails to notice this,\\n absorbed as she is in wondering why this prelate has come to\\n visit her. Loiseleur, who has now come right up to Joan,\\n hands her the ring, which she receives gratefully. Then she\\n again fixes her look of enquiry on the prelate, whom she has\\n previously seen among her judges.\\n\\n60 Finally he says to her in a low whisper:\\n\\n Would you recognize your King's\\n signature?\\n\\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\\n visit.\",\n \"too! It is as if in this little incident\\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\\n has lost by her abjuration.\\n\\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,\",\n \"her hand and imagines that she\\n is caressing them. But when she looks in the other direction,\\n her eye falls on two gravediggers who are engaged in opening\\n up an old grave. She sees the worms swarming in the skulls\\n which are thrown up, and she is filled with the fear of\\n death. Once more she ponders over the words which the members\\n of the judicial body have addressed to her, and she thinks\\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\\n completely.\\n\\n1\",\n \"at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the excitement is palpable.\\n People seem to be afraid of her dying.\\n\\n147 But Joan is like somebody who has escaped from a great\\n danger, whose relief now finds expression in a tremendous\\n joy, almost resembling gaiety.\\n 36.\\n\\n\\n148 She draws a circle, explaining as she does so that she is\\n unable to write. But this is not\",\n \"28.\\n\\n\\n111 The judges in the cell send up a prayer of thanks to God for\\n restoring this lost sheep to the fold. Joan smiles happily.\\n\\n Then the notary places a document in front of Joan and offers\\n her a pen. Joan looks in amazement at the document, which she\\n recognizes: it is the same declaration which was placed in\\n front of her for her to sign during the torture scene. Her\\n look of astonishment shifts from the notary to the document\\n and from the latter to Cauchon.\\n\\n\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"must sign. One of the judges\\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\\n lies on Joan's face as she sits there, sick, feverish and\\n racked with doubts. On one side she sees the wafer, which is\\n more precious to her than life itself, on the other side the\\n document, which will make her confess that she is an agent of\\n the Devil.\\n\\n114 As if talking to herself and her conscience, she says:\\n\\n I am a good Christian ...\\n\\n As she sits\",\n \"that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am guilty of\\n the crimes with which I am charged,\\n and which the Devil has misled me\\n into committing. I confess that my\\n visions are the work of the Devil,\\n and I am ready to return to the\\n path of truth and, before all the\\n world, to recant ...\\n\\n94 When the notary has finished reading aloud, Cauchon tells\\n Joan warning\",\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\"\n ],\n [\n \"ur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\\n\\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\\n Charles, the King, hereby informs\\n you that he is preparing to advance\\n on Rouen with a mighty army. He is\\n sending you a faithful priest, who\\n will stand by you. Have confidence\\n in him.\\n\\n The reflection of an inner joy shines in her eyes. Her face\\n lights up during the reading and she smiles. Loiseleur does\\n not move from the spot. He stands watching her, motionless\\n \",\n \"'s\\n eyes well over with tears. He is afraid he will be unable to\\n stifle his emotion and withdraws.\\n\\n170 The solemn ceremony is over. The monks leave.\\n\\n171 The jailer comes in with a coat which Joan is to wear.\\n 43.\\n\\n\\n172 Meanwhile rumors are circulating among the crowd in the area\\n behind the churchyard that Joan has withdrawn her abjuration.\\n Now they set out in swarms for the castle, pressing over the\",\n \"Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\\n out.\\n\\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up\",\n \"and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\\n spectators is at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the\",\n \"\\n Ladvenu gives Loiseleur a look of hostility.\\n\\n100 THE PRISON\\n\\n Joan is lying on her wretched bed. The chains, the brutal\\n soldiers, terror, fatigue, and finally the torture have\\n exhausted her strength. She is unrecognizable. Her face is as\\n white as a sheet. Deep shadows under her eyes. When the scene\\n opens, she is lying in a feverish doze. She breathes rapidly\\n and with difficulty.\\n\\n A soldier with a hard, repellent face is\",\n \"really going to\\n torture Joan? But a look from Cauchon prevents him from\\n saying anything. He goes out through the door, giving Joan a\\n look of compassion as he does so.\\n\\n82 The soldiers, who have witnessed the examination, escort him\\n out, and in the ante-room they reproach and abuse him:\\n\\n Why did you make signs to her and\\n give her good advice?\\n\\n They threaten to throw him into the Seine if this happens\\n again.\\n\\n83 THE PRISON\\n\\n \",\n \"too! It is as if in this little incident\\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\\n has lost by her abjuration.\\n\\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,\",\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \"addressed to her, and she thinks\\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\\n completely.\\n\\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\\n\\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\\n have been hurting intensely, bows\",\n \"but it is\\n clearly understood that he has the last word in the matter.\\n They are considering what procedure to adopt. The point is to\\n lose as little time as possible in getting Joan to compromise\\n herself. Loiseleur propounds a scheme which receives general\\n approval. Warwick is asked a question, which he answers in\\n the affirmative. An order is given to a secretary, who at\\n once leaves the chapel.\\n\\n48 THE PRISON\\n\\n Massieu has brought Joan back. The door closes behind her.\\n Overcome\",\n \"pers to the others, letting them in on Loiseleur's plan.\\n Then he approaches Joan and says to her in his mildest voice:\\n 18.\\n\\n\\n Joan, if you were allowed to go to\\n Mass now ...\\n\\n Joan looks up at Cauchon. Her eyes are already gleaming with\\n hope and expectation. Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... would you consent to give up\\n your men's clothes?\\n\\n When Joan hears this condition, her hope is extinguished as\\n rapidly as\",\n \"looks at\\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\\n\\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\\n away!\\n\\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\\n\\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\\n appear before us ...\\n\\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\\n the jailer. They lead Joan out\",\n \". She feels ashamed. What has\\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\\n\\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\\n it up onto a shovel. He glances\",\n \"at Joan's side. He begins\\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\\n John's Gospel: 'The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except\\n it abide in the vine.' Inspiring terror at one moment,\\n speaking sanctimoniously the next, he warns, he threatens, he\\n implores, he mocks, he calls her a cunning traitor, cruel,\\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\\n measure with his words and finally reaches a\",\n \":\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\\n\\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\\n locks of hair fall on the ground. Joan weeps ceaselessly. The\\n events in the churchyard pass in succession before her eyes,\\n but now she sees them in relation to one another, from a new\\n angle and with a sharper perception. She realizes that it is\\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\\n\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"her.\\n\\n154 THE PRISON\\n\\n Joan is escorted in by the jailer. He makes her sit down on a\\n stool and starts cutting off her hair. Joan is seized by a\\n new and dispiriting fear. Although she is in pain, she\\n manages to weep inaudibly, sobbing without a sound. When her\\n weeping eases off for a moment she whispers:\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\\n\\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\\n\",\n \"document to the other.\\n\\n56 THE PRISON\\n\\n The soldier comes in with Joan's food, followed by the dog.\\n Two other soldiers appear in the door, for these rascals\\n never lose an opportunity of tormenting their victim. As the\\n soldier hands Joan the food, his eye falls on her ring. He\\n demands it from her, but she implores him to let her keep it:\\n it is her mother's ring. But the soldier is determined to\\n have it, even if he has to use force. He calls to\",\n \", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\\n earnestly to follow this advice.\\n\\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\"\n ],\n [\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\\n earnestly to follow this advice.\\n\\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\",\n \"must sign. One of the judges\\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\\n lies on Joan's face as she sits there, sick, feverish and\\n racked with doubts. On one side she sees the wafer, which is\\n more precious to her than life itself, on the other side the\\n document, which will make her confess that she is an agent of\\n the Devil.\\n\\n114 As if talking to herself and her conscience, she says:\\n\\n I am a good Christian ...\\n\\n As she sits\",\n \"Church advises her to sign\\n she must do so. Once again she turns to Erard and asks him to\\n tell her whether she must abjure. He answers:\\n\\n Either you sign - or you will go to\\n the stake!\\n\\n and he points at the executioner, who at this moment\\n approaches at a sign from Warwick. Now Joan understands the\\n cruel death in store for her, and she is afraid. Jesus Christ\\n also was afraid when He learned that His hour was come. Fear\\n has overcome her spirit and is affecting her\",\n \"too! It is as if in this little incident\\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\\n has lost by her abjuration.\\n\\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,\",\n \"and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\\n spectators is at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the\",\n \"not a great\\n blessing?\\n\\n Joan nods, and her expression seems to want to say: of\\n course, everybody knows that the Church has no greater\\n treasure.\\n\\n Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... But you will never share in the\\n Church's blessings, if you do not\\n expiate your sins.\\n\\n113 He indicates to Joan that she must sign. One of the judges\\n approaches with a wafer. An expression of misery and pain\\n lies on Joan's face as she\",\n \"is\\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\\n entreaty:\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired ...\\n\\n The jail\",\n \"that he is, has no difficulty in\\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am\",\n \"114 As if talking to herself and her conscience, she says:\\n\\n I am a good Christian ...\\n\\n As she sits there, alone with all these men, she is the\\n picture of utter despair and loneliness. They all gaze at her\\n with fixed stares. Nobody speaks to her. Finally Cauchon\\n breaks the silence. In a quiet voice he advises Joan to sign\\n and save her soul; but Joan has now mastered her temptation.\\n She hands back the paper. Her body is broken. But the\\n strength of her\",\n \"\\n 34.\\n\\n\\n Joan does not understand what this means. What is the meaning\\n of 'abjure'? She turns to Erard to ask his advice.\\n\\n Explain it to her!\\n\\n Erard orders Massieu. The latter asks to be excused, but\\n after glancing at Erard he does not dare to insist, and is\\n obliged to advise Joan of the danger she will incur by\\n refusing. He says to her:\\n\\n If you do not sign you will be\\n \",\n \"to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness to sign. A judge holds\\n the document out to her, but Joan thrusts it away so\\n violently that it falls on the ground. Somebody picks it up.\\n And Joan says vehemently:\\n\\n ... and if I should confess\\n anything, I will afterwards declare\\n that it was only by using force\\n that you made me confess.\\n 24.\\n\\n\\n96\",\n \"28.\\n\\n\\n111 The judges in the cell send up a prayer of thanks to God for\\n restoring this lost sheep to the fold. Joan smiles happily.\\n\\n Then the notary places a document in front of Joan and offers\\n her a pen. Joan looks in amazement at the document, which she\\n recognizes: it is the same declaration which was placed in\\n front of her for her to sign during the torture scene. Her\\n look of astonishment shifts from the notary to the document\\n and from the latter to Cauchon.\\n\\n\",\n \" She is very weak...\\n\\n The two men exchange glances. Cauchon and the judges have\\n come to extort a confession from Joan. 'whether because they\\n were afraid of her escaping in this way and dying without\\n having made a recantation, or because her weakened physical\\n condition raised hopes of her soul being easier to purchase.'\\n\\n Cauchon explains to Warwick how he wants to proceed.\\n Loiseleur joins in the discussion and proposes a drastic\\n remedy. Cauchon approves Loise\",\n \"hand.\\n\\n Cauchon threatens her:\\n\\n ... but if you do not sign, the\\n Church will turn her back on you\\n and you will stand alone ...\\n 23.\\n\\n\\n Joan's crisis is over. Once again she sees clearly the path\\n she must follow. Quietly she puts away the pen. Cauchon sees\\n this and thunders:\\n\\n ... alone ...\\n\\n But a heavenly light shines from Joan's face. She smiles.\\n With her eyes raised to heaven she\",\n \"that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am guilty of\\n the crimes with which I am charged,\\n and which the Devil has misled me\\n into committing. I confess that my\\n visions are the work of the Devil,\\n and I am ready to return to the\\n path of truth and, before all the\\n world, to recant ...\\n\\n94 When the notary has finished reading aloud, Cauchon tells\\n Joan warning\",\n \"her expression. The\\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\\n executioner rises up before her, she surrenders.\\n\\n146 She casts a frightened glance at her surroundings; then she\\n slowly kneels and bows her head. Sommaire seizes the document\\n which has been placed in front of Joan for her signature and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in\",\n \"auchon cuts him short and\\n orders the hearing to continue.\\n\\n73 Lemaître presents his next question, which is only one link\\n in a chain of questions carefully prepared and ingeniously\\n related:\\n\\n Since you are so certain of your\\n salvation ... why do you need to go\\n to confession?\\n\\n Joan is already floundering in the net. She has the feeling\\n that her answer may decide her destiny. She is like a hunted\\n animal that looks for the smallest gap in the chain of\\n beaters in the\",\n \". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\\n her king. God can hear her!\\n\\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\\n which Loiseleur presents his questions\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\"\n ],\n [\n \"to the jailer and says with an air of\\n entreaty:\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired ...\\n\\n The jailer mumbles something incomprehensible. Sympathy is\\n not to be expected from this quarter. Joan feels like an\\n outcast; it is hard to imagine a greater humiliation for a\\n woman than to be shorn of her hair. And Joan is a woman.\\n\\n At last the cutting operation is concluded.\\n 38.\\n\\n\\n155 Joan gets up and sits on her bed\",\n \"her.\\n\\n154 THE PRISON\\n\\n Joan is escorted in by the jailer. He makes her sit down on a\\n stool and starts cutting off her hair. Joan is seized by a\\n new and dispiriting fear. Although she is in pain, she\\n manages to weep inaudibly, sobbing without a sound. When her\\n weeping eases off for a moment she whispers:\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired, so tired ...\\n\\n But the jailer is concentrating entirely on his work. The\\n\",\n \". She feels ashamed. What has\\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\\n\\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\\n it up onto a shovel. He glances\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\\n out.\\n\\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up\",\n \"Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\\n\\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\\n her eyes:\\n\\n Where will I be tonight?\\n\\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n \",\n \"addressed to her, and she thinks\\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\\n completely.\\n\\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\\n\\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\\n have been hurting intensely, bows\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"iously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up, turns it round in his\\n hands, and finally places it on Joan's head. Outraged by this\\n form of sacrilege, she removes it and puts it on the bed; but\\n the soldier replaces the crown on her head, at the same time\\n giving her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\\n\\n\",\n \"from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\\n\\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\\n a short prayer.\\n\\n4 THE CH\",\n \", who begins to question Joan\\n about her dress:\\n\\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\\n\\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\\n dress?\\n\\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\\n secret, and says no to the\",\n \"the\\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\\n\\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\\n Church is unable to protect you!\\n\\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\\n\\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\\n\\n Dear God, I accept my death\\n willingly and gladly ...\\n\\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\\n continues:\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\\n it up onto a shovel. He glances round the cell to see if\\n there is anything else he can sweep up while he is about it.\\n His eye falls on the plaited straw crown, the martyr's crown,\\n which has landed in a corner. Joan sees the broom gathering\\n in the crown. That too! It is as if in this little incident\\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\\n has lost by\",\n \"her expression. The\\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\\n executioner rises up before her, she surrenders.\\n\\n146 She casts a frightened glance at her surroundings; then she\\n slowly kneels and bows her head. Sommaire seizes the document\\n which has been placed in front of Joan for her signature and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in\",\n \"ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\\n ... now and in our last hour.\\n\\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\\n\\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n\",\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \"\\n with this woman, whom he has heard described as a dangerous\\n witch and an object of fear - he is afraid. He prays\\n inaudibly and crosses himself. He has brought with him a\\n small stoup and aspergillum, and as he stands by the door he\\n sprinkles Joan eagerly with holy water. Joan, who has dragged\\n herself over to the boards which serve as her bed, looks at\\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\\n\\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\\n\",\n \" At last the cutting operation is concluded.\\n 38.\\n\\n\\n155 Joan gets up and sits on her bed. She is like somebody who is\\n on the verge of collapse from lack of sleep, and who does\\n mechanically whatever he is told. Unconsciously she raises\\n her hands to her face, shudders and looks at her hands with\\n dread, as if they were unclean. She feels ashamed. What has\\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\\n denial, of his\",\n \"the ground he has won. He\\n asks a new question:\\n\\n Was he naked?\\n\\n Every ear strains to hear the reply, for now Joan has to\\n answer. And again she produces one of her brilliant, careful\\n answers:\\n\\n Do you not believe that God would\\n have clothes for him?\\n\\n28 Cauchon realizes that his stratagem has failed, but\\n nevertheless he pursues the matter further:\\n\\n Did he have any hair on his head?\\n\\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground\",\n \"ues the matter further:\\n\\n Did he have any hair on his head?\\n\\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground, smiles\\n and answers with artless inspiration:\\n\\n Why should he have had it cut off?\\n\\n29 Cauchon sees that he will get nowhere with Joan by this\\n method. He confers with those sitting nearest him and then\\n gives way to the examining judge, who begins to question Joan\\n about her dress:\\n\\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan refuses several times\"\n ],\n [\n \", lets her head\\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\\n\\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\\n shouts:\\n\\n You have burnt a saint!\\n\\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\\n\\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\\n falls in ashes. Joan'\",\n \"the bishop and says to him:\\n\\n We are treating this woman like an\\n enemy - not like a human being on\\n trial!\\n\\n37 Then he casts a look full of tenderness at Joan, who at this\\n moment is drying her cheeks, still wet from Jean d'Estivet's\\n spittle. Houppeville continues:\\n\\n For me she is a saint!\\n\\n He goes over to her, genuflects before her, and turns to go\\n out through the door.\\n\\n38 Warwick has\",\n \"in shouts of\\n joy. But one or two English soldiers, who have seen Joan's\\n smile, go up to her and shout at the priests around her:\\n\\n She has only made fools of you!\\n\\n The priests push them away. Cauchon, who has received the\\n document, now gives a signal for Joan to come forward and\\n hear her sentence of judgement.\\n\\n150 Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\\n out:\",\n \"ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\\n ... now and in our last hour.\\n\\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\\n\\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n\",\n \"Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\\n out.\\n\\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up\",\n \"'s answer, the preacher\\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\\n\\n Make her be quiet!\\n\\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\\n little scene.\\n\\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\",\n \"up on\\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is bound brutally to the\\n stake.\\n\\n Ladvenu remains standing. During Joan's prayer he remains\\n holding the crucifix in front of her, so that throughout she\\n can see her Savior. When the executioner has secured Joan he\\n descends. Ladvenu continues to speak words of comfort to\\n Joan.\\n\\n All around her are now in tears. Loiseleur weeps. Even\",\n \"scription:\\n 'Heretic, Relapsed, Apostate, Idolatress.'\\n\\n Further away there is a platform for the judges and the\\n English nobility; another is reserved for the preacher and\\n for spectators.\\n\\n176 When Joan has taken her place at the stake one of the judges,\\n Nicolas Midi, stands and begins his sermon:\\n\\n In the name of the Lord, amen!\\n\\n177 For Joan it is as if his voice has reached her from far away.\\n She weeps\",\n \" ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n210 But the bystanders, who during these final scenes stand as if\\n paralyzed by the fire and by Joan's cries, are seized by a\\n mood compounded of fear and ecstasy. Outbursts of anger and\\n indignation against the oppressors can already be heard. The\\n English soldiers take up a threatening posture.\\n\\n211 The flames climb steadily higher.\",\n \"Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\\n\\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\\n her eyes:\\n\\n Where will I be tonight?\\n\\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n \",\n \"ently before the\\n imagined saint. She gets up again, while the judges talk\\n together.\\n\\n24 Cauchon continues:\\n\\n In what form did he reveal himself?\\n\\n Joan does not immediately grasp the question. Half the judges\\n shout to one another.\\n\\n Hundreds of questions fly across the room: Did he have wings?\\n Was his head like an ordinary man's? Was he wearing a crown?\\n Under this deluge of questions Joan makes a movement as if to\\n say that she cannot answer them all at once.\\n\\n\",\n \"addressed to her, and she thinks\\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\\n completely.\\n\\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\\n\\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\\n have been hurting intensely, bows\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\\n question. She answers:\\n\\n My martyrdom ...\\n\\n Ladvenu nods. He looks at her as at a saint descended from\\n heaven. Yet he cannot refrain from asking one more question:\\n\\n And your release?\\n\\n Joan answers with a look of ecstasy in her eyes:\\n\\n ... Death ... !\\n\\n Her purity and the sincerity of her faith in God are almost\\n dazzling to Ladvenu\",\n \"ieu says:\\n\\n At the stake!\\n\\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\\n\\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\\n Ladvenu says:\\n\\n How can you still believe that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n\",\n \"hand.\\n\\n Cauchon threatens her:\\n\\n ... but if you do not sign, the\\n Church will turn her back on you\\n and you will stand alone ...\\n 23.\\n\\n\\n Joan's crisis is over. Once again she sees clearly the path\\n she must follow. Quietly she puts away the pen. Cauchon sees\\n this and thunders:\\n\\n ... alone ...\\n\\n But a heavenly light shines from Joan's face. She smiles.\\n With her eyes raised to heaven she\",\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \", you die as\\n an infidel...\\n\\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\\n subjected, answers in words conjured up by her sancta\\n simplicitas; but Jean d'Estivet, revelling in the pain his\\n speech has given Joan, obliterates her with the wounding\\n words, which sting like the lash of a whip:\\n\\n Your soul is doomed to perdition\\n ...\\n\\n To which one of the others adds:\\n\\n ... to everlast\",\n \",\\n number and fierceness, are now fanning round her.\\n\\n204 The rope binding her to the stake begins to burn.\\n 47.\\n\\n\\n205 Joan is frantic with terror:\\n\\n Jesus!\\n\\n she screams in her agony.\\n\\n206 The echo repeats her cry in the sad and silent square. The\\n bystanders pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\",\n \"looks at\\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\\n\\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\\n away!\\n\\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\\n\\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\\n appear before us ...\\n\\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\\n the jailer. They lead Joan out\",\n \"from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\\n\\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\\n a short prayer.\\n\\n4 THE CH\"\n ],\n [\n \", you die as\\n an infidel...\\n\\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\\n subjected, answers in words conjured up by her sancta\\n simplicitas; but Jean d'Estivet, revelling in the pain his\\n speech has given Joan, obliterates her with the wounding\\n words, which sting like the lash of a whip:\\n\\n Your soul is doomed to perdition\\n ...\\n\\n To which one of the others adds:\\n\\n ... to everlast\",\n \"soul\\n to perdition!\\n\\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\\n across her face. Almost unconsciously she shakes her head -\\n and smiles again. Assuredly the Devil has no power over her\\n and is not going to obtain it either.\\n\\n91 One of the judges asks:\\n\\n If the Devil appeared in the form\\n of an angel, how could you be\\n certain whether it was a good or a\\n bad angel?\\n\\n For a moment the smile fades from Joan'\",\n \"Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\\n\\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\\n her eyes:\\n\\n Where will I be tonight?\\n\\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n \",\n \", lets her head\\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\\n\\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\\n shouts:\\n\\n You have burnt a saint!\\n\\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\\n\\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\\n falls in ashes. Joan'\",\n \"my soul!\\n\\n She remains sitting in the same position; her look conveys\\n the impression that she can see into the furthest corner of\\n heaven.\\n\\n34 But Jean d'Estivet is incapable of controlling himself. He\\n gets up, goes right up to her, spits in her face and hisses:\\n\\n Do you not understand that what you\\n are saying is blasphemy?\\n\\n Then he goes back to his place. But on Joan's face there\\n lingers the expression of one who is far removed from\",\n \"the\\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\\n\\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\\n Church is unable to protect you!\\n\\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\\n\\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\\n\\n Dear God, I accept my death\\n willingly and gladly ...\\n\\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\\n continues:\\n\\n \",\n \" Your soul is doomed to perdition\\n ...\\n\\n To which one of the others adds:\\n\\n ... to everlasting torture in the\\n flames of Hell!\\n\\n119 Groaning under the burden of the injustice and malice they\\n are heaping on her, Joan turns for comfort to Cauchon, whose\\n hand she has just pressed to her cheek; but Cauchon has no\\n comfort to give. He draws back and says coldly:\\n\\n Joan, you are a child of the Devil!\\n\",\n \"ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\\n ... now and in our last hour.\\n\\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\\n\\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n\",\n \"soul; but Joan has now mastered her temptation.\\n She hands back the paper. Her body is broken. But the\\n strength of her spirit is unaltered.\\n\\n For a moment they are all struck dumb.\\n\\n115 Cauchon gestures, ordering the Sacrament to be carried out.\\n The tears run down Joan's cheeks, when she sees the priests\\n going out with the sacred vessel.\\n 29.\\n\\n\\n I love God ... I love Him with all\\n my heart!\\n\\n\",\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \"too! It is as if in this little incident\\n Joan sees a sign from God. She bitterly laments the glory she\\n has lost by her abjuration.\\n\\n The jailer leaves the cell. Joan sits by herself. She thinks\\n of what she has done. This document signed by her hand is a\\n denial, a denial of God. How she wishes she could tear it to\\n shreds! She is in consternation over the enormity of her sin.\\n Her soul is drowning in remorse. She flushes,\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"is\\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\\n entreaty:\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired ...\\n\\n The jail\",\n \"at Joan's side. He begins\\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\\n John's Gospel: 'The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except\\n it abide in the vine.' Inspiring terror at one moment,\\n speaking sanctimoniously the next, he warns, he threatens, he\\n implores, he mocks, he calls her a cunning traitor, cruel,\\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\\n measure with his words and finally reaches a\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"6 Massieu has gone to fetch the Eucharist. A procession of\\n priests, wearing surplices and stoles, and carrying lights in\\n their hands, comes out of the chapel and goes in the\\n direction of the castle yard, singing litanies.\\n\\n167 Everyone in the castle yard kneels; the women are in tears.\\n To every entreaty the priests answer:\\n\\n Pray for her!\\n\\n168 Presently the procession arrives at Joan's cell, and she\\n prepares to receive the\",\n \":\\n\\n Now ... already?\\n\\n Ladvenu, struggling with the tears which are muffling his\\n voice, answers yes. Another long, long silence. Then Joan\\n asks, almost as if fearing the answer:\\n\\n What kind of death?\\n\\n Ladvenu, choked by his feelings, is unable to speak. He makes\\n a sign for Massieu to answer on his behalf. Massieu says:\\n\\n At the stake!\\n\\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\\n there\",\n \"has no\\n comfort to give. He draws back and says coldly:\\n\\n Joan, you are a child of the Devil!\\n\\n120 She looks at him in unaffected terror. Then it is as if a\\n veil gradually falls from her eyes; as if the whole truth is\\n revealed to her in a flash of lightning. They have lied to\\n her in order to trap her. In her overwrought and exhausted\\n condition she loses all self-control. Fever and ecstasy take\\n charge of her features. As a stream\",\n \". She feels ashamed. What has\\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\\n\\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\\n it up onto a shovel. He glances\",\n \"bridge, which is then raised. Many fall\\n victim to the soldiers' brutality or are trampled to death.\\n\\n217 The smoke rises in a column, concealing Joan.\\n\\n218 On Warwick's orders the executioner rakes through the fire.\\n Normally no trace of Joan should remain - but what is this?\\n Joan's heart is undamaged. He shows it to Warwick and pours\\n oil on the flames, but still the heart will not catch fire.\\n He tries in vain, with the help of sul\"\n ],\n [\n \" her, lead her away.\\n\\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\\n to many of those present as a vision from God. An old woman\\n approaches, hands Joan a cup of milk, weeps and kneels. The\\n poor child, who is herself in need of comfort, offers the\\n woman such comfort as she can, but the English soldiers put\\n an end to this scene.\\n\\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\\n fuel is piled up on a foundation\",\n \"continues:\\n\\n There has never been a monster in\\n France like the one which has\\n appeared in the form of Joan.\\n\\n He pauses, leans towards her, and with a threatening gesture\\n shouts at Joan:\\n\\n It is to you, Joan, I am talking...\\n it is to you I say that your king\\n is a heretic!\\n 33.\\n\\n\\n137 Now Joan turns towards him. She can withstand all his\\n invective, when it is\",\n \"that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n His ways are not our ways!\\n\\n After a pause she adds:\\n\\n Yes, I am His child!\\n\\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\\n\\n And the great victory?\\n 42.\\n\\n\\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\\n question. She answers:\\n\\n My martyr\",\n \"Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\\n\\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\\n her eyes:\\n\\n Where will I be tonight?\\n\\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n \",\n \"\\n21 Disappointment on the judges' faces. Joan continues, with a\\n strength which suddenly reveals a new side of her character,\\n and turning towards the English soldiers:\\n 6.\\n\\n\\n But I know for certain that the\\n English will all be driven out of\\n France ...\\n\\n Commotion and protests among the soldiers: why should Joan be\\n allowed to insult England? But Joan continues inflexibly:\\n\\n ... except for those who are going\\n to die here!\\n\\n The soldiers are furious. They can no\",\n \"Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\\n out.\\n\\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up\",\n \"scarlet caps and purple\\n skull-caps. The other platform is for Joan.\\n\\n128 Escorted by English soldiers, Joan's little procession comes\\n slowly to this place.\\n\\n129 Everywhere in the churchyard, and even on the walls, there\\n are thousands of people, heads jostling. The great majority\\n of them are favorably disposed towards Joan. When she is\\n carried in, every neck is craned to catch a glimpse of her.\\n For her part Joan tries to read her destiny in their faces.\\n\",\n \"the ground he has won. He\\n asks a new question:\\n\\n Was he naked?\\n\\n Every ear strains to hear the reply, for now Joan has to\\n answer. And again she produces one of her brilliant, careful\\n answers:\\n\\n Do you not believe that God would\\n have clothes for him?\\n\\n28 Cauchon realizes that his stratagem has failed, but\\n nevertheless he pursues the matter further:\\n\\n Did he have any hair on his head?\\n\\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground\",\n \"the English soldiers has heard Ladvenu's words to\\n Massieu. He extracts two bits of wood from a faggot lying\\n ready for the bonfire, and joins them so that they form a\\n modest little cross.\\n\\n185 Joan, who has followed his movements, is touched. She takes\\n the cross lovingly and reverently, and covers it with kisses.\\n\\n186 The English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\\n executioner to do his duty.\\n\\n187 Massieu returns with the processional\",\n \"iously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up, turns it round in his\\n hands, and finally places it on Joan's head. Outraged by this\\n form of sacrilege, she removes it and puts it on the bed; but\\n the soldier replaces the crown on her head, at the same time\\n giving her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\\n\\n\",\n \"English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\\n executioner to do his duty.\\n\\n187 Massieu returns with the processional cross. He shows it to\\n Joan; she is inexpressibly happy as she takes it with both\\n hands, kisses it with tears in her eyes, and addresses ardent\\n prayers to it.\\n\\n188 Now her eye falls on the executioner, who has climbed up on\\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is\",\n \"... you\\n must continue to fight for France\\n ... for the King of France.\\n\\n Joan feels a pang in the pit of her stomach when he\\n pronounces the name of her country and her king, which mean\\n everything to her and are never out of her thoughts.\\n\\n145 The spectators follow with anxiety and deep involvement\\n everything taking place on the platform. Those standing round\\n her, who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\\n sign\",\n \"Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\\n out:\\n\\n Long live the Maid! ... Long live\\n France!\\n\\n Two soldiers turn abruptly, force their way through the\\n crowd, seize the unfortunate man who has given vent to his\\n patriotic feelings, and lead him away.\\n\\n151 Joan has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\\n aloud:\\n\\n\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \"the\\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\\n\\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\\n Church is unable to protect you!\\n\\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\\n\\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\\n\\n Dear God, I accept my death\\n willingly and gladly ...\\n\\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\\n continues:\\n\\n \",\n \"looks at\\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\\n\\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\\n away!\\n\\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\\n\\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\\n appear before us ...\\n\\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\\n the jailer. They lead Joan out\",\n \"33.\\n\\n\\n137 Now Joan turns towards him. She can withstand all his\\n invective, when it is her own person and her own honor that\\n are at stake; but this accusation directed at her king deeply\\n outrages Joan's love of France and of Charles, the king. Her\\n expression is one of anger and indignation as she says:\\n\\n Indeed, my lord, I am ready to\\n maintain, even at the risk of my\\n life, that my king is the noblest\\n \",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu's arm.\\n\\n152-3 THE GATEWAY LEADING INTO THE CASTLE YARD\\n\\n Joan meets the two soldiers who earlier maintained that she\\n had made fools of her judges. They heap abuse upon her, and\\n Massieu has to protect her.\\n\\n154 THE PRISON\\n\\n Joan is escorted in by the jailer. He makes her sit down on a\",\n \"\\n\\n Would you recognize your King's\\n signature?\\n\\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\\n visit. From his cowl he produces a letter which he hands to\\n Joan. She takes it. She shows with a smile that she\\n recognizes Charles VII's signature. Then she returns the\\n letter and says:\\n\\n I can't read!\\n\\n61 Loiseleur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\\n\\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\\n Charles, the King, hereby inform\"\n ],\n [\n \" her, lead her away.\\n\\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\\n to many of those present as a vision from God. An old woman\\n approaches, hands Joan a cup of milk, weeps and kneels. The\\n poor child, who is herself in need of comfort, offers the\\n woman such comfort as she can, but the English soldiers put\\n an end to this scene.\\n\\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\\n fuel is piled up on a foundation\",\n \"that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n His ways are not our ways!\\n\\n After a pause she adds:\\n\\n Yes, I am His child!\\n\\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\\n\\n And the great victory?\\n 42.\\n\\n\\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\\n question. She answers:\\n\\n My martyr\",\n \"the bishop and says to him:\\n\\n We are treating this woman like an\\n enemy - not like a human being on\\n trial!\\n\\n37 Then he casts a look full of tenderness at Joan, who at this\\n moment is drying her cheeks, still wet from Jean d'Estivet's\\n spittle. Houppeville continues:\\n\\n For me she is a saint!\\n\\n He goes over to her, genuflects before her, and turns to go\\n out through the door.\\n\\n38 Warwick has\",\n \"Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\\n out:\\n\\n Long live the Maid! ... Long live\\n France!\\n\\n Two soldiers turn abruptly, force their way through the\\n crowd, seize the unfortunate man who has given vent to his\\n patriotic feelings, and lead him away.\\n\\n151 Joan has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\\n aloud:\\n\\n\",\n \"the ground he has won. He\\n asks a new question:\\n\\n Was he naked?\\n\\n Every ear strains to hear the reply, for now Joan has to\\n answer. And again she produces one of her brilliant, careful\\n answers:\\n\\n Do you not believe that God would\\n have clothes for him?\\n\\n28 Cauchon realizes that his stratagem has failed, but\\n nevertheless he pursues the matter further:\\n\\n Did he have any hair on his head?\\n\\n But Joan, who now feels that she is on firm ground\",\n \"Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\\n out.\\n\\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up\",\n \"continues:\\n\\n There has never been a monster in\\n France like the one which has\\n appeared in the form of Joan.\\n\\n He pauses, leans towards her, and with a threatening gesture\\n shouts at Joan:\\n\\n It is to you, Joan, I am talking...\\n it is to you I say that your king\\n is a heretic!\\n 33.\\n\\n\\n137 Now Joan turns towards him. She can withstand all his\\n invective, when it is\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"a\\n whisper which is barely audible to anybody but herself she\\n says:\\n\\n I have done no wrong ... I believe\\n in the twelve articles of the Creed\\n and in God's Ten Commandments!\\n\\n143 Even Erard's heart bleeds at the sight of such deep\\n unhappiness. His tone changes, and his voice becomes almost\\n syrupy as he says:\\n\\n Joan, we have great sympathy for\\n you!\\n 35.\\n\\n\\n Warwick gives\",\n \"bridge, which is then raised. Many fall\\n victim to the soldiers' brutality or are trampled to death.\\n\\n217 The smoke rises in a column, concealing Joan.\\n\\n218 On Warwick's orders the executioner rakes through the fire.\\n Normally no trace of Joan should remain - but what is this?\\n Joan's heart is undamaged. He shows it to Warwick and pours\\n oil on the flames, but still the heart will not catch fire.\\n He tries in vain, with the help of sul\",\n \"the\\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\\n\\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\\n Church is unable to protect you!\\n\\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\\n\\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\\n\\n Dear God, I accept my death\\n willingly and gladly ...\\n\\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\\n continues:\\n\\n \",\n \", lets her head\\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\\n\\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\\n shouts:\\n\\n You have burnt a saint!\\n\\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\\n\\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\\n falls in ashes. Joan'\",\n \"orts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n English soldiers grow impatient, and one of their officers\\n approaches the platform and says:\\n\\n Look here, priest, are you going to\\n be all day?\\n\\n183 Ladvenu insists on his right to prepare the young woman for\\n death. And he says to Massieu, who is bringing him a small\\n missal:\\n\\n Joan wishes to have a cross with\\n her\",\n \"says with\\n great emphasis:\\n\\n Suppose we were to tell you now\\n that your visions did not - as you\\n believe - come from God ...\\n\\n Joan looks up quickly, as if unable to believe her ears. She\\n searches the faces of her judges, one after the other.\\n Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... but are sent to you by the\\n Devil, who wants to bring your soul\\n to perdition!\\n\\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\\n across her face. Almost\",\n \"ieu says:\\n\\n At the stake!\\n\\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\\n\\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\\n Ladvenu says:\\n\\n How can you still believe that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n\",\n \"iously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up, turns it round in his\\n hands, and finally places it on Joan's head. Outraged by this\\n form of sacrilege, she removes it and puts it on the bed; but\\n the soldier replaces the crown on her head, at the same time\\n giving her several slaps in the face. He steps back and peeps\\n through the hollow of his hand, as if to see her better.\\n\\n\",\n \".\\n\\n68 Lemaître continues with the hearing:\\n\\n Has God told you that you will be\\n released from your prison?\\n\\n Joan smiles and gives Loiseleur a secret, confidential\\n glance. His eyes gleam back at her in complicity. She\\n answers:\\n\\n Yes ... and by means of a great\\n victory!\\n\\n69 The judges are astonished and cross-examine her. They ask her\\n to explain precisely what she knows, and how she has come to\\n know it. But Joan answers:\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n Would you recognize your King's\\n signature?\\n\\n Joan nods, though without understanding the purpose of his\\n visit. From his cowl he produces a letter which he hands to\\n Joan. She takes it. She shows with a smile that she\\n recognizes Charles VII's signature. Then she returns the\\n letter and says:\\n\\n I can't read!\\n\\n61 Loiseleur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\\n\\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\\n Charles, the King, hereby inform\",\n \"meets his cold, hostile gaze. Then she relapses\\n into her state of lethargy. Warwick goes from the bed towards\\n the door, which he has left standing open behind him. Two\\n doctors whom he has sent for come into the cell. He follows\\n them over to the bed, where he speaks the famous words which\\n for sheer brutality are without parallel in history:\\n\\n I would not have her die a natural\\n death on any account ... she has\\n cost me too much for that...\\n\\n The doctors begin to examine Joan\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\"\n ],\n [\n \"looks at\\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\\n\\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\\n away!\\n\\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\\n\\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\\n appear before us ...\\n\\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\\n the jailer. They lead Joan out\",\n \"Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\\n\\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\\n her eyes:\\n\\n Where will I be tonight?\\n\\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n \",\n \"Joan turns her tear-stained face to him; full of gratitude\\n for his kind words, she kisses his hand. Then Loiseleur goes\\n out.\\n\\n Joan is left in solitude for a mere moment, before the\\n soldiers enter in order to bait her in their usual manner.\\n Joan takes no notice of them. One of them tickles her in the\\n ear with a straw. Joan gets up laboriously and sits down on\\n the bed. One of the soldiers suddenly catches sight of the\\n straw crown. He laughs, picks it up\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \". She feels ashamed. What has\\n she done? She has denied her God. She thinks of Peter's\\n denial, of his threefold denial before cock-crow.\\n\\n156 The jailer, who has left Joan by herself for a moment, now\\n returns with a broom. Almost without thinking, and with a\\n melancholy smile, Joan follows the broom as it sweeps up her\\n hair - hair from Orléans and from Rheims. The jailer sweeps\\n it up onto a shovel. He glances\",\n \"English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\\n executioner to do his duty.\\n\\n187 Massieu returns with the processional cross. He shows it to\\n Joan; she is inexpressibly happy as she takes it with both\\n hands, kisses it with tears in her eyes, and addresses ardent\\n prayers to it.\\n\\n188 Now her eye falls on the executioner, who has climbed up on\\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is\",\n \"ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\\n ... now and in our last hour.\\n\\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\\n\\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n\",\n \"ur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\\n\\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\\n Charles, the King, hereby informs\\n you that he is preparing to advance\\n on Rouen with a mighty army. He is\\n sending you a faithful priest, who\\n will stand by you. Have confidence\\n in him.\\n\\n The reflection of an inner joy shines in her eyes. Her face\\n lights up during the reading and she smiles. Loiseleur does\\n not move from the spot. He stands watching her, motionless\\n \",\n \"the English soldiers has heard Ladvenu's words to\\n Massieu. He extracts two bits of wood from a faggot lying\\n ready for the bonfire, and joins them so that they form a\\n modest little cross.\\n\\n185 Joan, who has followed his movements, is touched. She takes\\n the cross lovingly and reverently, and covers it with kisses.\\n\\n186 The English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\\n executioner to do his duty.\\n\\n187 Massieu returns with the processional\",\n \"'s\\n eyes well over with tears. He is afraid he will be unable to\\n stifle his emotion and withdraws.\\n\\n170 The solemn ceremony is over. The monks leave.\\n\\n171 The jailer comes in with a coat which Joan is to wear.\\n 43.\\n\\n\\n172 Meanwhile rumors are circulating among the crowd in the area\\n behind the churchyard that Joan has withdrawn her abjuration.\\n Now they set out in swarms for the castle, pressing over the\",\n \"\\n Ladvenu gives Loiseleur a look of hostility.\\n\\n100 THE PRISON\\n\\n Joan is lying on her wretched bed. The chains, the brutal\\n soldiers, terror, fatigue, and finally the torture have\\n exhausted her strength. She is unrecognizable. Her face is as\\n white as a sheet. Deep shadows under her eyes. When the scene\\n opens, she is lying in a feverish doze. She breathes rapidly\\n and with difficulty.\\n\\n A soldier with a hard, repellent face is\",\n \"parapets of the\\n bridge in the hope of seeing a tiny fragment of the\\n unaccustomed spectacle.\\n\\n173 In between, scenes from the prison are shown. Joan is wearing\\n a coat that comes down to her feet, which are bare. Her\\n earlier calm seems to have disappeared. She prays and weeps\\n incessantly. Ladvenu and Massieu, who have returned to fetch\\n her, lead her away.\\n\\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\\n to many of those\",\n \"at Joan's side. He begins\\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\\n John's Gospel: 'The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except\\n it abide in the vine.' Inspiring terror at one moment,\\n speaking sanctimoniously the next, he warns, he threatens, he\\n implores, he mocks, he calls her a cunning traitor, cruel,\\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\\n measure with his words and finally reaches a\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"addressed to her, and she thinks\\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\\n completely.\\n\\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\\n\\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\\n have been hurting intensely, bows\",\n \", lets her head\\n slump and gives up the ghost. The tumult grows among the\\n bystanders, clenched fists are raised in the air.\\n\\n214 Threatening words can be heard. Then somebody in the crowd\\n gives free expression to what everybody is thinking and\\n shouts:\\n\\n You have burnt a saint!\\n\\n The cry is taken up, until it is heard from every throat.\\n\\n215 The rope fastening Joan to the stake has burnt through and\\n falls in ashes. Joan'\",\n \", who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\\n sign!' resound from mouth to mouth, and Loiseleur urges her\\n earnestly to follow this advice.\\n\\n Joan is dazed, and no longer understands a thing. Anxiously\\n she explores the eyes of those standing round her. Her\\n terrible uncertainty is reflected in her expression. The\\n moment has arrived when she begins to yield to the\\n unremitting pressure. And when, at this very moment, the\",\n \" her, lead her away.\\n\\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\\n to many of those present as a vision from God. An old woman\\n approaches, hands Joan a cup of milk, weeps and kneels. The\\n poor child, who is herself in need of comfort, offers the\\n woman such comfort as she can, but the English soldiers put\\n an end to this scene.\\n\\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\\n fuel is piled up on a foundation\",\n \"in shouts of\\n joy. But one or two English soldiers, who have seen Joan's\\n smile, go up to her and shout at the priests around her:\\n\\n She has only made fools of you!\\n\\n The priests push them away. Cauchon, who has received the\\n document, now gives a signal for Joan to come forward and\\n hear her sentence of judgement.\\n\\n150 Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\\n out:\",\n \"6 Massieu has gone to fetch the Eucharist. A procession of\\n priests, wearing surplices and stoles, and carrying lights in\\n their hands, comes out of the chapel and goes in the\\n direction of the castle yard, singing litanies.\\n\\n167 Everyone in the castle yard kneels; the women are in tears.\\n To every entreaty the priests answer:\\n\\n Pray for her!\\n\\n168 Presently the procession arrives at Joan's cell, and she\\n prepares to receive the\"\n ],\n [\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \" 3.\\n\\n\\n These three men are surrounded by the other forty-one\\n clerics, all men of learning, thoroughly versed in the art of\\n dragging confessions out of accused persons.\\n\\n A special table is reserved for the notaries.\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the accused to be brought in.\\n\\n9 Every face turns towards the entrance. They all see Joan for\\n the first time. It is so quiet in the chapel that you can\\n hear the grating noise of the chains round Joan's ankles.\\n\\n\",\n \"her out.\\n\\n86 THE TORTURE-CHAMBER\\n\\n The judges have already arrived and are taking their places.\\n They consist of Pierre Cauchon, Lemaître, and nine doctors\\n and prelates. The two executioners, Maugier Leparmentier and\\n his assistant, are putting the instruments in order and\\n making other necessary preparations.\\n\\n87 Enter Massieu with Joan. She is told to come nearer. Cauchon\\n tells one of the younger judges to bring a stool for Joan.\\n\\n\",\n \"Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\\n out:\\n\\n Long live the Maid! ... Long live\\n France!\\n\\n Two soldiers turn abruptly, force their way through the\\n crowd, seize the unfortunate man who has given vent to his\\n patriotic feelings, and lead him away.\\n\\n151 Joan has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\\n aloud:\\n\\n\",\n \"addressed to her, and she thinks\\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\\n completely.\\n\\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\\n\\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\\n have been hurting intensely, bows\",\n \"'s answer, the preacher\\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\\n\\n Make her be quiet!\\n\\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\\n little scene.\\n\\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\",\n \"looks at\\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\\n\\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\\n away!\\n\\n Massieu, astonished, approaches her, asks if she is Joan, the\\n Maid, and when she confirms this begins to read the summons:\\n\\n ... that you summon the aforesaid\\n Joan, commonly called the Maid, to\\n appear before us ...\\n\\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\\n the jailer. They lead Joan out\",\n \"\\n appear before us ...\\n\\n Joan declares herself ready to follow him. Massieu calls for\\n the jailer. They lead Joan out.*\\n\\n8 THE CHAPEL\\n\\n Bishop Cauchon takes the chair for the trial. To either side\\n of him sit the Inquisitor, Lemaître, and Jean d'Estivet, who\\n is to present the case against Joan.\\n 3.\\n\\n\\n These three men are surrounded by the other forty-one\\n clerics, all men of learning, thoroughly versed in\",\n \"\\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\\n have been hurting intensely, bows her head and places her\\n hands on her breast to all appearances indifferent to\\n everything happening around her. Erard, Massieu and two\\n notaries take their places at Joan's side.\\n 32.\\n\\n\\n132 Loiseleur goes back to the larger platform where he takes his\\n place near Cauchon, who now gets up and declares the session\\n opened.\\n\",\n \"his\\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\\n doctrines in deed as well as in word; and asks her if she has\\n anything to say in answer to this. She reflects for a moment\\n and, while the spectators stand on tiptoe to see what is\\n happening, she rises to her feet and says:\\n\\n I alone am responsible for\\n everything that I have said and\\n done ...\\n\\n Joan draws a deep breath\",\n \"to torture. While the executioners are\\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\\n\\n One instrument of torture after another is displayed for\\n Joan's benefit. With an executioner at her side she is\\n conducted past the various appliances. She looks at each one\\n for a long time, trembling with fear. Occasionally the\\n executioner demonstrates with a gesture how one of the\\n instruments is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n \",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"\\n The bishop, who is engaged in thumbing through some documents\\n which one of the prelates, Loiseleur, has just brought him,\\n discusses the request briefly with the Inquisitor, and\\n replies that he is obliged to deny her this favor because of\\n her indecent dress.\\n 4.\\n\\n\\n13 Then he opens the session and orders Joan to take the oath.\\n With a gesture he indicates that the Bible is to be fetched\\n and placed in front of Joan. She kneels, f\",\n \"from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\\n\\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\\n a short prayer.\\n\\n4 THE CH\",\n \"of putrefaction arose from this\\n earth filled with dead bodies. The poisonous smell of\\n nothingness. The smell of stones, corpses and worms. Against\\n the buttress of the church two platforms have been erected\\n and covered with red velvet. On one of them the entire\\n assembly of judges is sitting in state: Pierre Cauchon, the\\n Inquisitor, and a host of jurists in scarlet caps and purple\\n skull-caps. The other platform is for Joan.\\n\\n128 Escorted by English soldiers, Joan'\",\n \"and\\n now come into the cell. The soldiers bring in chairs and a\\n table for the scribe. The judges group themselves in a circle\\n round Joan, some sitting, others standing. Loiseleur places\\n himself behind Cauchon. In addition to the judges, Massieu\\n also is present.\\n\\n67 Cauchon gestures to Lemaître who says to Joan:\\n\\n You profess to be a daughter of\\n God? ...\\n\\n Joan agrees with a nod, and Lemaître continues:\\n\\n Then why will you not say Our\",\n \"-Chief of the\\n English army of occupation he is the real, though\\n unrecognized, driving force behind the trial. He has come for\\n the purpose of speeding things up, but he keeps in the\\n background - like an accomplished butler who supervises from\\n a distance and sees that everything is proceeding smoothly.\\n For the moment he remains standing just inside the door;\\n presently he comes further forward and is hidden by columns.\\n At one point we see him in conversation with Loiseleur.\\n\\n15 Joan has sat down again\",\n \"the bishop and says to him:\\n\\n We are treating this woman like an\\n enemy - not like a human being on\\n trial!\\n\\n37 Then he casts a look full of tenderness at Joan, who at this\\n moment is drying her cheeks, still wet from Jean d'Estivet's\\n spittle. Houppeville continues:\\n\\n For me she is a saint!\\n\\n He goes over to her, genuflects before her, and turns to go\\n out through the door.\\n\\n38 Warwick has\",\n \"in shouts of\\n joy. But one or two English soldiers, who have seen Joan's\\n smile, go up to her and shout at the priests around her:\\n\\n She has only made fools of you!\\n\\n The priests push them away. Cauchon, who has received the\\n document, now gives a signal for Joan to come forward and\\n hear her sentence of judgement.\\n\\n150 Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\\n out:\",\n \"and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\\n spectators is at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the\"\n ],\n [\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \", who begins to question Joan\\n about her dress:\\n\\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\\n\\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\\n dress?\\n\\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\\n secret, and says no to the\",\n \"to continue. He asks Joan:\\n\\n Has God promised you anything?\\n\\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\\n him what it is that God has promised.\\n\\n Can you not tell us what it is that\\n God has promised you?\\n\\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\\n\\n You must tell us.\\n\\n But Joan declines to answer:\\n\\n That has nothing to do with your\\n\",\n \"really going to\\n torture Joan? But a look from Cauchon prevents him from\\n saying anything. He goes out through the door, giving Joan a\\n look of compassion as he does so.\\n\\n82 The soldiers, who have witnessed the examination, escort him\\n out, and in the ante-room they reproach and abuse him:\\n\\n Why did you make signs to her and\\n give her good advice?\\n\\n They threaten to throw him into the Seine if this happens\\n again.\\n\\n83 THE PRISON\\n\\n \",\n \". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\\n her king. God can hear her!\\n\\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\\n which Loiseleur presents his questions\",\n \"amine her. They ask her\\n to explain precisely what she knows, and how she has come to\\n know it. But Joan answers:\\n\\n I know that God will soon come to\\n my help in a miraculous way!\\n\\n70 Jean d'Estivet hastens to write down this important answer.\\n With great secrecy he grips Loiseleur's hand in gratitude.\\n Cauchon, Lemaître and some of the other judges plot together.\\n\\n71 Lemaître leans forward and begins to question her:\\n\\n\",\n \"asking to die. He says\\n in a friendly tone:\\n\\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\\n front of everybody that you were\\n misled by the Devil.\\n\\n Joan, who has gradually regained her self-control, does not\\n answer immediately. It is only when the judges press her that\\n she replies:\\n\\n Everything I said was for fear of\\n the stake!\\n\\n Cauchon holds a whispered consultation with the others, but\\n it is clear that they all regard it as wasted effort to\\n\",\n \"'s answer, the preacher\\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\\n\\n Make her be quiet!\\n\\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\\n little scene.\\n\\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\",\n \", then continues:\\n\\n ... who has deceived you ...\\n\\n Then after another short pause:\\n\\n ... and betrayed you?\\n\\n While Cauchon has been speaking a change has come over Joan.\\n It is clear that she is tormented by doubts. God has promised\\n her that she will be set free. Why has God not kept his\\n promise to her? Why does he let her stand alone against all\\n these churchmen, these learned doctors? She even asks herself\\n whether she has the right to talk as she does in front of all\\n\",\n \"ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\\n ... now and in our last hour.\\n\\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\\n\\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n\",\n \"immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\\n do so.\\n\\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\\n an inclination of the head and asks:\\n\\n You say that you are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\\n\\n To save France!\\n\\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\\n the right\",\n \"auchon cuts him short and\\n orders the hearing to continue.\\n\\n73 Lemaître presents his next question, which is only one link\\n in a chain of questions carefully prepared and ingeniously\\n related:\\n\\n Since you are so certain of your\\n salvation ... why do you need to go\\n to confession?\\n\\n Joan is already floundering in the net. She has the feeling\\n that her answer may decide her destiny. She is like a hunted\\n animal that looks for the smallest gap in the chain of\\n beaters in the\",\n \" Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\\n says:\\n\\n So you are certain of being saved?\\n 16.\\n\\n\\n72 Again Joan resorts to Loiseleur. He gives the same sign as\\n before, and Joan says yes.\\n\\n Massieu's eyes are as if riveted to Joan's lips, and now when\\n she answers yes he forgets where he is, forgets that Cauchon\\n is just beside\",\n \"her out.\\n\\n86 THE TORTURE-CHAMBER\\n\\n The judges have already arrived and are taking their places.\\n They consist of Pierre Cauchon, Lemaître, and nine doctors\\n and prelates. The two executioners, Maugier Leparmentier and\\n his assistant, are putting the instruments in order and\\n making other necessary preparations.\\n\\n87 Enter Massieu with Joan. She is told to come nearer. Cauchon\\n tells one of the younger judges to bring a stool for Joan.\\n\\n\",\n \"Is she familiar with the secrets of the torture?\\n Cauchon's threats make no impression on Joan.\\n\\n She feels safe with her God. Her face is transfigured by a\\n beautiful light as she says:\\n\\n I would rather die than deny God's\\n acts.\\n\\n Enraged by Joan's pig-headedness, Cauchon loses patience. He\\n orders Joan to be put to torture. While the executioners are\\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\\n\\n One instrument of torture after another is\",\n \" 3.\\n\\n\\n These three men are surrounded by the other forty-one\\n clerics, all men of learning, thoroughly versed in the art of\\n dragging confessions out of accused persons.\\n\\n A special table is reserved for the notaries.\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the accused to be brought in.\\n\\n9 Every face turns towards the entrance. They all see Joan for\\n the first time. It is so quiet in the chapel that you can\\n hear the grating noise of the chains round Joan's ankles.\\n\\n\",\n \", Lemaître and some of the other judges plot together.\\n\\n71 Lemaître leans forward and begins to question her:\\n\\n Has God promised you that you will\\n go to Paradise?\\n\\n Joan knows instinctively that they have laid a trap for her.\\n In her uncertainty she looks for help from Loiseleur, who\\n indicates to her with a slight smile that she is to say yes.\\n Lemaître is satisfied with her answer but takes good care to\\n conceal his satisfaction. In a tone almost of boredom he\\n says\",\n \"and\\n now come into the cell. The soldiers bring in chairs and a\\n table for the scribe. The judges group themselves in a circle\\n round Joan, some sitting, others standing. Loiseleur places\\n himself behind Cauchon. In addition to the judges, Massieu\\n also is present.\\n\\n67 Cauchon gestures to Lemaître who says to Joan:\\n\\n You profess to be a daughter of\\n God? ...\\n\\n Joan agrees with a nod, and Lemaître continues:\\n\\n Then why will you not say Our\",\n \"that he is, has no difficulty in\\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am\"\n ],\n [\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \"and is hidden by columns.\\n At one point we see him in conversation with Loiseleur.\\n\\n15 Joan has sat down again, and the hearing begins. Cauchon asks\\n Joan her name. She answers:\\n\\n At home I am called Jeannette ...\\n Here they call me Joan!\\n\\n16 Cauchon asks her age. Joan thinks and counts on her fingers:\\n\\n Nineteen ... I think.\\n\\n17 Cauchon, after smiling to his neighbor, asks:\\n\\n Can you say Our Father?\\n\",\n \"\\n The bishop, who is engaged in thumbing through some documents\\n which one of the prelates, Loiseleur, has just brought him,\\n discusses the request briefly with the Inquisitor, and\\n replies that he is obliged to deny her this favor because of\\n her indecent dress.\\n 4.\\n\\n\\n13 Then he opens the session and orders Joan to take the oath.\\n With a gesture he indicates that the Bible is to be fetched\\n and placed in front of Joan. She kneels, f\",\n \"to torture. While the executioners are\\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\\n\\n One instrument of torture after another is displayed for\\n Joan's benefit. With an executioner at her side she is\\n conducted past the various appliances. She looks at each one\\n for a long time, trembling with fear. Occasionally the\\n executioner demonstrates with a gesture how one of the\\n instruments is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n \",\n \". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\\n her king. God can hear her!\\n\\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\\n which Loiseleur presents his questions\",\n \"ers pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\\n ... now and in our last hour.\\n\\n207 Joan's coat is already in flames, consumed by the fire as far\\n as the knees. Her feet are burning.\\n\\n208 But the executioner continues piling fuel on the bonfire. An\\n ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n\",\n \" 3.\\n\\n\\n These three men are surrounded by the other forty-one\\n clerics, all men of learning, thoroughly versed in the art of\\n dragging confessions out of accused persons.\\n\\n A special table is reserved for the notaries.\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the accused to be brought in.\\n\\n9 Every face turns towards the entrance. They all see Joan for\\n the first time. It is so quiet in the chapel that you can\\n hear the grating noise of the chains round Joan's ankles.\\n\\n\",\n \"immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\\n do so.\\n\\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\\n an inclination of the head and asks:\\n\\n You say that you are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\\n\\n To save France!\\n\\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\\n the right\",\n \", who begins to question Joan\\n about her dress:\\n\\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\\n\\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\\n dress?\\n\\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\\n secret, and says no to the\",\n \"trial has been unanimously agreed, she\\n is obliged to answer. He repeats his question:\\n\\n What has God promised you?\\n\\n Joan does not answer.\\n\\n44 Cauchon continues:\\n\\n Has God promised you that you will\\n be released from your prison?\\n\\n Joan confirms this with a nod. Dalleu speaks in a low voice\\n to Cauchon, who asks:\\n\\n When?\\n\\n After sitting for a while, lost in thought, Joan answers:\\n\\n I do not know the day\",\n \"'s\\n eyes well over with tears. He is afraid he will be unable to\\n stifle his emotion and withdraws.\\n\\n170 The solemn ceremony is over. The monks leave.\\n\\n171 The jailer comes in with a coat which Joan is to wear.\\n 43.\\n\\n\\n172 Meanwhile rumors are circulating among the crowd in the area\\n behind the churchyard that Joan has withdrawn her abjuration.\\n Now they set out in swarms for the castle, pressing over the\",\n \",\\n number and fierceness, are now fanning round her.\\n\\n204 The rope binding her to the stake begins to burn.\\n 47.\\n\\n\\n205 Joan is frantic with terror:\\n\\n Jesus!\\n\\n she screams in her agony.\\n\\n206 The echo repeats her cry in the sad and silent square. The\\n bystanders pray in chorus, while the women weep and wail:\\n\\n Intercede for us ...\\n\\n Others continue:\\n\",\n \" her, lead her away.\\n\\n174 Joan has arrived at the castle yard. In her coat she appears\\n to many of those present as a vision from God. An old woman\\n approaches, hands Joan a cup of milk, weeps and kneels. The\\n poor child, who is herself in need of comfort, offers the\\n woman such comfort as she can, but the English soldiers put\\n an end to this scene.\\n\\n175 The stake is erected in the middle of the castle yard.*** The\\n fuel is piled up on a foundation\",\n \"Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\\n out:\\n\\n Long live the Maid! ... Long live\\n France!\\n\\n Two soldiers turn abruptly, force their way through the\\n crowd, seize the unfortunate man who has given vent to his\\n patriotic feelings, and lead him away.\\n\\n151 Joan has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\\n aloud:\\n\\n\",\n \"ess by severity. The judges\\n are overcome by a feeling which can almost be called\\n irritation - irritation with Joan and what they call her pig-\\n headedness.\\n\\n118 Jean d'Estivet reproaches her harshly for allowing her vanity\\n to take precedence over the salvation of her soul. He\\n concludes with these words:\\n\\n If you die in this hour, you die as\\n an infidel...\\n\\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\\n subjected,\",\n \"addressed to her, and she thinks\\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\\n completely.\\n\\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\\n\\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\\n have been hurting intensely, bows\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \"asks:\\n\\n When?\\n\\n After sitting for a while, lost in thought, Joan answers:\\n\\n I do not know the day or the hour!\\n\\n A further exchange of words between Cauchon and d'Estivet\\n then Cauchon makes a sign for Massieu to take the accused\\n back to prison. Joan rises to go.\\n\\n45 She takes a few steps, turns and asks:\\n\\n May I not be relieved from carrying\\n these chains?\\n\\n Cauchon can see no reason for complying with her request\",\n \"ages:\\n\\n ... abominable in the eyes of God\\n ...\\n\\n Joan writhes under these denunciations, she implores him to\\n show mercy, but he scourges her pitilessly:\\n\\n ... You are no daughter of God ...\\n\\n Joan weeps and sobs.\\n\\n81 Cauchon shows no sympathy. He lowers his voice, bends right\\n over her and hisses:\\n\\n ... but a child of the Devil!\\n\\n Joan cries out and collapses.\\n \",\n \"her out.\\n\\n86 THE TORTURE-CHAMBER\\n\\n The judges have already arrived and are taking their places.\\n They consist of Pierre Cauchon, Lemaître, and nine doctors\\n and prelates. The two executioners, Maugier Leparmentier and\\n his assistant, are putting the instruments in order and\\n making other necessary preparations.\\n\\n87 Enter Massieu with Joan. She is told to come nearer. Cauchon\\n tells one of the younger judges to bring a stool for Joan.\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n21 Disappointment on the judges' faces. Joan continues, with a\\n strength which suddenly reveals a new side of her character,\\n and turning towards the English soldiers:\\n 6.\\n\\n\\n But I know for certain that the\\n English will all be driven out of\\n France ...\\n\\n Commotion and protests among the soldiers: why should Joan be\\n allowed to insult England? But Joan continues inflexibly:\\n\\n ... except for those who are going\\n to die here!\\n\\n The soldiers are furious. They can no\",\n \"immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\\n do so.\\n\\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\\n an inclination of the head and asks:\\n\\n You say that you are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\\n\\n To save France!\\n\\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\\n the right\",\n \"to continue. He asks Joan:\\n\\n Has God promised you anything?\\n\\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\\n him what it is that God has promised.\\n\\n Can you not tell us what it is that\\n God has promised you?\\n\\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\\n\\n You must tell us.\\n\\n But Joan declines to answer:\\n\\n That has nothing to do with your\\n\",\n \"that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n His ways are not our ways!\\n\\n After a pause she adds:\\n\\n Yes, I am His child!\\n\\n Ladvenu, moved by this persistent faith, says presently:\\n\\n And the great victory?\\n 42.\\n\\n\\n Joan looks at him as if amazed at his asking such a stupid\\n question. She answers:\\n\\n My martyr\",\n \"says with\\n great emphasis:\\n\\n Suppose we were to tell you now\\n that your visions did not - as you\\n believe - come from God ...\\n\\n Joan looks up quickly, as if unable to believe her ears. She\\n searches the faces of her judges, one after the other.\\n Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... but are sent to you by the\\n Devil, who wants to bring your soul\\n to perdition!\\n\\n Joan sits for a moment, deep in thought. Then a smile spreads\\n across her face. Almost\",\n \"ieu says:\\n\\n At the stake!\\n\\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\\n there is no longer any struggle or doubt.\\n\\n165 Ladvenu, who has now regained his self-control, gives Massieu\\n a quiet order. Massieu goes out hurriedly. When he has gone\\n Ladvenu says:\\n\\n How can you still believe that you\\n are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan smiles, as if she knows more than other men, and\\n answers:\\n\\n\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"other judges. Their expressions show\\n that they are setting a new trap for Joan.\\n\\n20 Finally he says:\\n\\n So you believe that God hates the\\n English?\\n\\n Joan does not immediately understand the question, and the\\n examining judge has to repeat it. Then Joan gives one of her\\n brilliant, inspired answers:\\n\\n I know not whether God loves or\\n hates the English ...\\n\\n21 Disappointment on the judges' faces. Joan continues, with a\\n strength which suddenly reveals a new side of her character,\\n\",\n \".\\n\\n68 Lemaître continues with the hearing:\\n\\n Has God told you that you will be\\n released from your prison?\\n\\n Joan smiles and gives Loiseleur a secret, confidential\\n glance. His eyes gleam back at her in complicity. She\\n answers:\\n\\n Yes ... and by means of a great\\n victory!\\n\\n69 The judges are astonished and cross-examine her. They ask her\\n to explain precisely what she knows, and how she has come to\\n know it. But Joan answers:\\n\\n\",\n \"orts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n English soldiers grow impatient, and one of their officers\\n approaches the platform and says:\\n\\n Look here, priest, are you going to\\n be all day?\\n\\n183 Ladvenu insists on his right to prepare the young woman for\\n death. And he says to Massieu, who is bringing him a small\\n missal:\\n\\n Joan wishes to have a cross with\\n her\",\n \"cross. Suddenly the two straws\\n spin round in a mysterious gust of wind. What is it?\\n 2.\\n\\n\\n Joan sits for a moment, overcome with astonishment, then puts\\n the straws back in the form of a cross. Again a hostile power\\n attacks this cross and scatters it over the flagstones. Joan\\n doesn't know what to believe. Can it be one of her voices? A\\n divine intervention? Once again she replaces the cross. Then\\n there is a roar of laughter from the door behind her\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"in shouts of\\n joy. But one or two English soldiers, who have seen Joan's\\n smile, go up to her and shout at the priests around her:\\n\\n She has only made fools of you!\\n\\n The priests push them away. Cauchon, who has received the\\n document, now gives a signal for Joan to come forward and\\n hear her sentence of judgement.\\n\\n150 Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\\n out:\",\n \"the English soldiers has heard Ladvenu's words to\\n Massieu. He extracts two bits of wood from a faggot lying\\n ready for the bonfire, and joins them so that they form a\\n modest little cross.\\n\\n185 Joan, who has followed his movements, is touched. She takes\\n the cross lovingly and reverently, and covers it with kisses.\\n\\n186 The English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\\n executioner to do his duty.\\n\\n187 Massieu returns with the processional\",\n \"lonely and unhappy.\\n She has no doubt that it is God who sends her solace and\\n encouragement in this way. She dries her eyes and produces\\n from a hiding-place a piece of handiwork, with which she\\n occupies her hands and her thoughts when she is not before\\n the judges. It is a crown of plaited straw - very simple,\\n pretty and childlike. Soon she is completely absorbed in this\\n work, to which she devotes all her love. We see the Joan from\\n Domrémy who 'is second to no woman\",\n \"... you\\n must continue to fight for France\\n ... for the King of France.\\n\\n Joan feels a pang in the pit of her stomach when he\\n pronounces the name of her country and her king, which mean\\n everything to her and are never out of her thoughts.\\n\\n145 The spectators follow with anxiety and deep involvement\\n everything taking place on the platform. Those standing round\\n her, who have witnessed her fear, make all kinds of golden\\n promises if only she will consent to sign. Cries of 'Sign,\\n sign\",\n \"ur reads the letter aloud for her, as follows:\\n\\n To our dearly beloved Joan.\\n Charles, the King, hereby informs\\n you that he is preparing to advance\\n on Rouen with a mighty army. He is\\n sending you a faithful priest, who\\n will stand by you. Have confidence\\n in him.\\n\\n The reflection of an inner joy shines in her eyes. Her face\\n lights up during the reading and she smiles. Loiseleur does\\n not move from the spot. He stands watching her, motionless\\n \",\n \". He advises her strongly to speak to him with\\n an open heart. Here she is not before her judge, but before\\n her king. God can hear her!\\n\\n65 Joan confesses her sins like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.\\n Cauchon and his attendants follow the scene attentively from\\n the secret room. With a ledger on his lap the notary takes\\n down everything that Joan says, but it is clear that she is\\n saying nothing of any significance, for all the skill with\\n which Loiseleur presents his questions\",\n \"English captain is now losing patience, and orders the\\n executioner to do his duty.\\n\\n187 Massieu returns with the processional cross. He shows it to\\n Joan; she is inexpressibly happy as she takes it with both\\n hands, kisses it with tears in her eyes, and addresses ardent\\n prayers to it.\\n\\n188 Now her eye falls on the executioner, who has climbed up on\\n the other side of her in order to tie her to the stake. He\\n drops the rope; she picks it up. She is\",\n \"God put me there!\\n And if I am, may God so keep me!\\n\\n77 Joan has broken the chain of beaters. She realizes this and\\n smiles. But her judges, who have sat there greedily waiting\\n for the prey to fall into the net so that they can hurl\\n themselves on it - these judges now sit not knowing what to\\n say or where to look. They gaze at each other in speechless\\n amazement. Some of them unconsciously make the sign of the\\n cross. Loiseleur is beyond doubt the most discon\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n with this woman, whom he has heard described as a dangerous\\n witch and an object of fear - he is afraid. He prays\\n inaudibly and crosses himself. He has brought with him a\\n small stoup and aspergillum, and as he stands by the door he\\n sprinkles Joan eagerly with holy water. Joan, who has dragged\\n herself over to the boards which serve as her bed, looks at\\n him in gay surprise, and with a slight smile says:\\n\\n Come a little nearer, I shan't fly\\n\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"carried in, every neck is craned to catch a glimpse of her.\\n For her part Joan tries to read her destiny in their faces.\\n From the way they look at her she gets the impression that\\n their feelings towards her are friendly. Joan, who for months\\n has lived remote from this earth, is visibly moved. She\\n smiles at the tiny flowers which greet her from the grass.\\n She almost touches them with her hand and imagines that she\\n is caressing them. But when she looks in the other direction,\\n her eye falls on two gr\",\n \"that he is, has no difficulty in\\n seeing what is going on in this young woman's heart. While\\n Joan is wrestling with her doubts he orders a small table to\\n be set in front of her. He puts a document on the table and\\n then places a pen in her hand. Half absentmindedly she lets\\n him do all this, but when Cauchon tries to persuade her to\\n sign she tells him that she is unable to read. Cauchon tells\\n the notary to read the declaration aloud:\\n\\n ... I declare that I am\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \", who begins to question Joan\\n about her dress:\\n\\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\\n\\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\\n dress?\\n\\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\\n secret, and says no to the\",\n \"'s answer, the preacher\\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\\n\\n Make her be quiet!\\n\\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\\n little scene.\\n\\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\",\n \"nothing of what goes on around her escapes her\\n notice. She looks towards the open grave. She cannot see the\\n actual gravedigger, only the earth which he is shoveling up\\n from deep down. Then she hears a shout of command.\\n\\n135 In the densest part of the crowd the soldiers are clearing a\\n passage to allow a carriage into the churchyard. The new\\n arrivals are the executioner and his two assistants.\\n\\n136 Erard is enraged at Joan's apparent lack of interest in\",\n \" ... alone ...\\n\\n But a heavenly light shines from Joan's face. She smiles.\\n With her eyes raised to heaven she says:\\n\\n ... alone - with God!\\n\\n95 Cauchon, realizing that his prey is about to escape him,\\n increases his exertions and displays all his powers of\\n persuasion. Does she know that the Church has the means to\\n compel her? Is she familiar with the secrets of the torture?\\n Cauchon's threats make no impression on Joan.\\n\\n She feels safe with her\",\n \"at Joan's side. He begins\\n an admonitory sermon, taking as text the words from Saint\\n John's Gospel: 'The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except\\n it abide in the vine.' Inspiring terror at one moment,\\n speaking sanctimoniously the next, he warns, he threatens, he\\n implores, he mocks, he calls her a cunning traitor, cruel,\\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\\n measure with his words and finally reaches a\",\n \"hand.\\n\\n Cauchon threatens her:\\n\\n ... but if you do not sign, the\\n Church will turn her back on you\\n and you will stand alone ...\\n 23.\\n\\n\\n Joan's crisis is over. Once again she sees clearly the path\\n she must follow. Quietly she puts away the pen. Cauchon sees\\n this and thunders:\\n\\n ... alone ...\\n\\n But a heavenly light shines from Joan's face. She smiles.\\n With her eyes raised to heaven she\",\n \"from the church are shown: the chalice is brought out.\\n\\n3 In the prison we see Joan kneeling before her straw cross -\\n this most fragile and exalted of crosses. She prays in\\n ecstatic joy, at one moment bending right forward so that her\\n forehead touches the flagstones, the next moment kneeling\\n with her hands folded and her eyes raised to heaven as if she\\n saw beings visible only to her. From time to time she mutters\\n a short prayer.\\n\\n4 THE CH\",\n \"at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the excitement is palpable.\\n People seem to be afraid of her dying.\\n\\n147 But Joan is like somebody who has escaped from a great\\n danger, whose relief now finds expression in a tremendous\\n joy, almost resembling gaiety.\\n 36.\\n\\n\\n148 She draws a circle, explaining as she does so that she is\\n unable to write. But this is not\",\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \"Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\\n\\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\\n her eyes:\\n\\n Where will I be tonight?\\n\\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n \",\n \"God put me there!\\n And if I am, may God so keep me!\\n\\n77 Joan has broken the chain of beaters. She realizes this and\\n smiles. But her judges, who have sat there greedily waiting\\n for the prey to fall into the net so that they can hurl\\n themselves on it - these judges now sit not knowing what to\\n say or where to look. They gaze at each other in speechless\\n amazement. Some of them unconsciously make the sign of the\\n cross. Loiseleur is beyond doubt the most discon\",\n \"\\n thoughts and remains silent. She looks in the direction of\\n Loiseleur, who is apparently absorbed in his own reflection.\\n He is abandoning her to her fate. In his view she is a\\n certain prey; whether she answers yes or no, she is doomed to\\n perdition. But now that Joan has collected her thoughts\\n again, she gives this admirable answer:\\n\\n If I am not, may God put me there!\\n And if I am, may God so keep me!\\n\\n77 Joan has broken the chain of beaters.\",\n \",\\n greedy, a liar, a heretic, a witch. His anger rises in\\n measure with his words and finally reaches a point where it\\n overflows in a torrent. He is unquestionably a powerful\\n speaker.\\n\\n134 But the stream of words appears to flow over Joan's head\\n without touching her. The past and the present mingle in her\\n thoughts; yet nothing of what goes on around her escapes her\\n notice. She looks towards the open grave. She cannot see the\\n actual graved\",\n \" ominous, infernal silence prevails.\\n\\n209 Joan screams:\\n\\n Jesus! Jesus!\\n\\n210 But the bystanders, who during these final scenes stand as if\\n paralyzed by the fire and by Joan's cries, are seized by a\\n mood compounded of fear and ecstasy. Outbursts of anger and\\n indignation against the oppressors can already be heard. The\\n English soldiers take up a threatening posture.\\n\\n211 The flames climb steadily higher.\",\n \". They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She looks up, surprised to see him. Then Ladvenu says:\\n\\n Joan, I have come to prepare you\\n for death!\\n\\n For a moment silence reigns, so deep that Joan's breathing\\n can be heard. Then she says in a barely audible voice:\\n\\n Now ... already?\\n\\n Ladvenu, struggling with the tears which are muffling his\\n voice, answers yes\"\n ],\n [\n \"ess by severity. The judges\\n are overcome by a feeling which can almost be called\\n irritation - irritation with Joan and what they call her pig-\\n headedness.\\n\\n118 Jean d'Estivet reproaches her harshly for allowing her vanity\\n to take precedence over the salvation of her soul. He\\n concludes with these words:\\n\\n If you die in this hour, you die as\\n an infidel...\\n\\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\\n subjected,\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \"accused. The judge continues:\\n\\n Do you not consider that these\\n learned doctors are likely to be\\n endowed with more wisdom than you\\n ...\\n\\n89 Joan nods half absent-mindedly. The judge is pleased with his\\n happy idea and is about to continue his course of instruction\\n when Joan interrupts him:\\n\\n ... but the wisdom of God is even\\n greater!\\n\\n The judge, who has spoken to Joan as one speaks to a child\\n which stubbornly refuses to listen to reason, shrugs his\\n shoulders and\",\n \"to torture. While the executioners are\\n taking care of her the judges gather together in a group.\\n\\n One instrument of torture after another is displayed for\\n Joan's benefit. With an executioner at her side she is\\n conducted past the various appliances. She looks at each one\\n for a long time, trembling with fear. Occasionally the\\n executioner demonstrates with a gesture how one of the\\n instruments is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n \",\n \"asking to die. He says\\n in a friendly tone:\\n\\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\\n front of everybody that you were\\n misled by the Devil.\\n\\n Joan, who has gradually regained her self-control, does not\\n answer immediately. It is only when the judges press her that\\n she replies:\\n\\n Everything I said was for fear of\\n the stake!\\n\\n Cauchon holds a whispered consultation with the others, but\\n it is clear that they all regard it as wasted effort to\\n\",\n \", who begins to question Joan\\n about her dress:\\n\\n Why are you wearing men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan refuses several times to answer and remains sitting\\n motionless, stiff as a ramrod. The judge says:\\n\\n Are you willing to wear a woman's\\n dress?\\n\\n30 Massieu leans towards her and advises her to accept this\\n suggestion, which he thinks must be very easy for her to do.\\n But Joan looks at him with the air of one treasuring a great\\n secret, and says no to the\",\n \"his\\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\\n doctrines in deed as well as in word; and asks her if she has\\n anything to say in answer to this. She reflects for a moment\\n and, while the spectators stand on tiptoe to see what is\\n happening, she rises to her feet and says:\\n\\n I alone am responsible for\\n everything that I have said and\\n done ...\\n\\n Joan draws a deep breath\",\n \"and\\n gasps for breath. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with\\n her sleeve. For a moment there is silence. Only her groans\\n can be heard. The judges look at each other, not knowing what\\n to do. Then they turn to Cauchon who is pondering. It is he\\n who breaks the silence with the following words addressed to\\n Massieu:\\n\\n There is nothing for it ... give\\n the executioner his orders!\\n\\n While the doctors who have entered during the preceding scene\\n are attending to Joan,\",\n \", you die as\\n an infidel...\\n\\n Joan, goaded by the mental torture to which she has been\\n subjected, answers in words conjured up by her sancta\\n simplicitas; but Jean d'Estivet, revelling in the pain his\\n speech has given Joan, obliterates her with the wounding\\n words, which sting like the lash of a whip:\\n\\n Your soul is doomed to perdition\\n ...\\n\\n To which one of the others adds:\\n\\n ... to everlast\",\n \"s in confirmation.\\n\\n163 Again the judges exchange looks. The notary raises his head\\n from his book. He examines the judges' faces searchingly,\\n looks at Joan and writes in his notes: 'Fatal answer.'\\n Cauchon has stood up. However dulled his human feelings may\\n be, it still goes against the grain with him to send Joan to\\n the stake, even though she herself is asking to die. He says\\n in a friendly tone:\\n\\n But, Joan, you have admitted in\\n front of everybody that\",\n \"The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\\n the right words for her. Her expression, which is filled with\\n the glory of a heavenly vision, is almost unearthly as she\\n answers:\\n\\n That is why I was born!\\n\\n More contemptuous laughter from the judges. The examining\\n judge confers with the other judges. Their expressions show\\n that they are setting a new trap for Joan.\\n\\n20 Finally he says:\\n\\n So you\",\n \"gratitude is sketched on her\\n face. She lowers her head to conceal her joy. Then Cauchon\\n continues:\\n\\n But in as much as you have rashly\\n sinned we condemn you . ..\\n\\n Joan looks up with an expression of fear and surprise.\\n Cauchon continues his reading:\\n 37.\\n\\n\\n\\n ... to perpetual imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n \",\n \"'s answer, the preacher\\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\\n\\n Make her be quiet!\\n\\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\\n little scene.\\n\\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\",\n \"is\\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\\n entreaty:\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired ...\\n\\n The jail\",\n \":\\n\\n Now ... already?\\n\\n Ladvenu, struggling with the tears which are muffling his\\n voice, answers yes. Another long, long silence. Then Joan\\n asks, almost as if fearing the answer:\\n\\n What kind of death?\\n\\n Ladvenu, choked by his feelings, is unable to speak. He makes\\n a sign for Massieu to answer on his behalf. Massieu says:\\n\\n At the stake!\\n\\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\\n there\",\n \"immediately and unconditionally. She declines to\\n do so.\\n\\n19 Cauchon rebukes her for this stubbornness and lets the\\n examining judge take over the interrogation. The latter makes\\n an inclination of the head and asks:\\n\\n You say that you are sent by God?\\n\\n Joan confirms this with a nod and adds:\\n\\n To save France!\\n\\n The judges burst out laughing. Joan's eyes are raised to\\n heaven, as if it was heaven that gave her courage and found\\n the right\",\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\\n spectators is at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the\",\n \"in shouts of\\n joy. But one or two English soldiers, who have seen Joan's\\n smile, go up to her and shout at the priests around her:\\n\\n She has only made fools of you!\\n\\n The priests push them away. Cauchon, who has received the\\n document, now gives a signal for Joan to come forward and\\n hear her sentence of judgement.\\n\\n150 Joan descends from the platform, leaning on Massieu. In his\\n enthusiasm one of the spectators forgets himself and bursts\\n out:\",\n \" 8.\\n\\n\\n31 An indication that another trap is being prepared. Then one\\n of the judges says:\\n\\n So it is God who has commanded you\\n to go about in men's clothes?\\n\\n Joan answers unhesitatingly:\\n\\n Yes!\\n\\n A smile of triumph spreads from face to face among Joan's\\n judges.\\n\\n32 The Promoter, Jean d'Estivet, complacently makes some notes.\\n Then he leans forward over his desk, smiles and asks in an\"\n ],\n [\n \"guesses her thoughts, calms her and says:\\n\\n We have come to give you comfort\\n and strength ...\\n\\n A tiny glimmer of gratitude passes over Joan's face. Cauchon\\n and the others install themselves, sitting and standing round\\n her bed.\\n\\n Cauchon, with the same benevolent air and kindly smile, asks\\n whether Joan has anything to say to him, whether perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then\",\n \"Joan's last words; every eye turns towards her and\\n watches for her smallest movement. They are deeply affected\\n by the simplicity she shows, face to face with death. Many\\n are in tears, even some of the English soldiers.\\n\\n182 At the end of her prayer she says to Ladvenu, with tears in\\n her eyes:\\n\\n Where will I be tonight?\\n\\n Ladvenu exhorts her to have faith in God: with the help of\\n the Almighty she will attain her place in Paradise. The\\n \",\n \"his\\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\\n doctrines in deed as well as in word; and asks her if she has\\n anything to say in answer to this. She reflects for a moment\\n and, while the spectators stand on tiptoe to see what is\\n happening, she rises to her feet and says:\\n\\n I alone am responsible for\\n everything that I have said and\\n done ...\\n\\n Joan draws a deep breath\",\n \"is\\n the fear of death which has caused her to panic. She regards\\n what she has done as the greatest sin she has ever committed.\\n She is unable to forgive herself for having told lies through\\n fear of death. Bitter are the tears which well from her eyes,\\n from sources almost dried up, as Joan asks herself how she\\n may still atone for her sin and repair the damage she has\\n done. She turns to the jailer and says with an air of\\n entreaty:\\n\\n Oh, I am so tired ...\\n\\n The jail\",\n \"perhaps she\\n has any wishes. Joan holds him for a long time in her gaze,\\n which the fever has made still more penetrating. Then she\\n makes a feeble movement with her head. Cauchon arranges the\\n pillow under her and comes close to her in order to hear\\n better. Joan, whose labored breathing makes it difficult for\\n her to speak, says in a weak voice:\\n 27.\\n\\n\\n I am afraid that I am going to die\\n ...\\n\\n108 Cauchon speaks some\",\n \"pers to the others, letting them in on Loiseleur's plan.\\n Then he approaches Joan and says to her in his mildest voice:\\n 18.\\n\\n\\n Joan, if you were allowed to go to\\n Mass now ...\\n\\n Joan looks up at Cauchon. Her eyes are already gleaming with\\n hope and expectation. Cauchon continues:\\n\\n ... would you consent to give up\\n your men's clothes?\\n\\n When Joan hears this condition, her hope is extinguished as\\n rapidly as\",\n \"'s answer, the preacher\\n embarks on a tirade, which Joan answers confidently; finally,\\n not knowing how to respond, he shouts to Massieu:\\n\\n Make her be quiet!\\n\\n The spectators derive much derisive enjoyment from this\\n little scene.\\n\\n Order has been restored on the platform. Massieu has\\n persuaded Joan to keep quiet. The preacher is approaching his\\n peroration. He points to the judges and declares they have\\n proved incontestably that Joan has violated the Church's\",\n \"the\\n heavens. Then Nicolas Midi ends his short address:\\n\\n Joan, go forth in peace ... the\\n Church is unable to protect you!\\n\\n Joan, who retains to the end her respect for the Church's\\n servants, inclines politely and gratefully in his direction.\\n\\n180 In a loud voice she prays:\\n\\n Dear God, I accept my death\\n willingly and gladly ...\\n\\n Her face becomes more serious and more anguished; she\\n continues:\\n\\n \",\n \"is operated. They are trying to frighten Joan out\\n of her senses.\\n\\n When the executioners have completed their preparations and\\n the torture can begin, Cauchon goes up to Joan and invites\\n her once again to sign the declaration. She refuses and says:\\n\\n Even though you torture my soul out\\n of my body I shall confess nothing\\n ...\\n\\n Cauchon gives orders for the torture to begin. Joan lets out\\n a scream of pain. She is seen to raise one hand. They all\\n think she is indicating her readiness\",\n \":\\n\\n Now ... already?\\n\\n Ladvenu, struggling with the tears which are muffling his\\n voice, answers yes. Another long, long silence. Then Joan\\n asks, almost as if fearing the answer:\\n\\n What kind of death?\\n\\n Ladvenu, choked by his feelings, is unable to speak. He makes\\n a sign for Massieu to answer on his behalf. Massieu says:\\n\\n At the stake!\\n\\n A slight shudder passes over Joan's face, but in her soul\\n there\",\n \"and gives them an order.\\n\\n164 The two monks go into the cell, where they find Joan sitting\\n with her hands in her lap. She is now calm and decided. What\\n is she thinking about? About her home in Domrémy - or about\\n death? Massieu and Ladvenu remain standing by the door. Joan\\n does not see them, so preoccupied is she with her own\\n thoughts. They approach with cautious steps, as people do\\n involuntarily in the house of death. Ladvenu calls to her.\\n She\",\n \"and\\n reads it aloud, sentence by sentence. Sentence by sentence\\n Joan repeats his words, smiling feebly and speaking in a\\n peculiar mechanical way which betrays the fact that she is\\n far away, absorbed in her own thoughts. During the reading\\n Erard gestures with the pen to the larger platform to inform\\n the judges that Joan is going to sign. The tension among the\\n spectators is at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the\",\n \"addressed to her, and she thinks\\n sadly of her fellow countrymen, who seem to have forsaken her\\n completely.\\n\\n130 The tiny procession approaches the platform reserved for\\n Joan. Loiseleur comes forward to meet the procession and\\n assist her. She smiles happily at this man, whom she believes\\n to be on her side. She is helped to a seat on a little stool.\\n\\n131 Her face is as white as a sheet. She closes her eyes, which\\n have been hurting intensely, bows\",\n \"asks:\\n\\n When?\\n\\n After sitting for a while, lost in thought, Joan answers:\\n\\n I do not know the day or the hour!\\n\\n A further exchange of words between Cauchon and d'Estivet\\n then Cauchon makes a sign for Massieu to take the accused\\n back to prison. Joan rises to go.\\n\\n45 She takes a few steps, turns and asks:\\n\\n May I not be relieved from carrying\\n these chains?\\n\\n Cauchon can see no reason for complying with her request\",\n \"she sees\\n only utter benevolence and charitableness. In addition, all\\n the judges now seem full of affection and sympathy. They\\n tiptoe round her bed, first one and then another coming close\\n up to her. They tuck the blanket round her and touch the\\n place where she has been bled. Some of them kneel and pray\\n for Joan. She regrets not having been more amiable towards\\n these men who are revealing their true feelings, now that\\n they see her in such misery. She feels every confidence in\\n them\",\n \"has come before her judges' great platform. Cauchon\\n takes the document from his secretary and begins to read it\\n aloud:\\n\\n In as much as you have at last\\n renounced the error of your ways,\\n we release you from excommunication\\n from the Church ...\\n\\n Cauchon pauses for a moment. Joan stands before her judges\\n with folded hands. A smile of gratitude is sketched on her\\n face. She lowers her head to conceal her joy. Then Cauchon\\n continues:\\n\\n\",\n \"imprisonment,\\n there to eat the bread of sorrow\\n and drink the water of affliction\\n ...\\n\\n Joan stands for a moment, dumbfounded. It is as if she cannot\\n grasp the meaning of what she has just heard. She feels as if\\n her heart is in her mouth. Her eyes have the expression of a\\n hunted animal. Then she hides her face in her hands and\\n weeps. Cauchon gives a sign for Joan to be led out. She\\n staggers away, leaning on Massieu\",\n \"and\\n gasps for breath. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with\\n her sleeve. For a moment there is silence. Only her groans\\n can be heard. The judges look at each other, not knowing what\\n to do. Then they turn to Cauchon who is pondering. It is he\\n who breaks the silence with the following words addressed to\\n Massieu:\\n\\n There is nothing for it ... give\\n the executioner his orders!\\n\\n While the doctors who have entered during the preceding scene\\n are attending to Joan,\",\n \"to continue. He asks Joan:\\n\\n Has God promised you anything?\\n\\n Joan gives an absent-minded nod. Cauchon presses her to tell\\n him what it is that God has promised.\\n\\n Can you not tell us what it is that\\n God has promised you?\\n\\n Cauchon asks with his most ingratiating smile, but Joan\\n shakes her head. Cauchon tries to persuade her:\\n\\n You must tell us.\\n\\n But Joan declines to answer:\\n\\n That has nothing to do with your\\n\",\n \"at breaking point.\\n\\n The reading is concluded. Joan gets to her feet. Erard puts a\\n pen in her hand; round Joan the excitement is palpable.\\n People seem to be afraid of her dying.\\n\\n147 But Joan is like somebody who has escaped from a great\\n danger, whose relief now finds expression in a tremendous\\n joy, almost resembling gaiety.\\n 36.\\n\\n\\n148 She draws a circle, explaining as she does so that she is\\n unable to write. But this is not\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["What was Joan of Arc put on trial for?","What did Joan think her mission was?","Who is the letter from the a priest reads to an illiterate Joan?","Where is Joan taken after the letter from King Charles VII is presented?","What happens to Joan when she realizes where she is heading?","What causes Joan to break down and sign a confession?","After Joan signs the confession what does the judge decide?","What does Joan realize as the jailor shaves her head?","What do the crowd around the fire think about Jane as they watch her burn at the stake?","Where is Joan of Arc captured?","Which war does Joan of Arc lead many battles in?","Who tries to get Joan of Arc to disclaim her beliefs?","What has God sent Joan of Arc to do?","Who is the false letter supposed to be from?","Where is Joan taken after the false letter fails?","What causes Joan to sign a confession?","What does Joan do while her head is being shaved?","Who cries out that Joan is a saint?","Where does Joan's soul go?","Who did Joan lead numerous military battles against?","During what war did Joan lead battles?","Near what city is Joan captured?","Where is Joan brought to stand trial?","Who interogates Joan?","In what year is Joan interrogated?","Who does Joan believe gave her the mission to drive the English from France?","The sight of what does not intimidate Joan?","The judge condemns Joan to what?","Joan is permitted a final what?"],"string":"[\n \"What was Joan of Arc put on trial for?\",\n \"What did Joan think her mission was?\",\n \"Who is the letter from the a priest reads to an illiterate Joan?\",\n \"Where is Joan taken after the letter from King Charles VII is presented?\",\n \"What happens to Joan when she realizes where she is heading?\",\n \"What causes Joan to break down and sign a confession?\",\n \"After Joan signs the confession what does the judge decide?\",\n \"What does Joan realize as the jailor shaves her head?\",\n \"What do the crowd around the fire think about Jane as they watch her burn at the stake?\",\n \"Where is Joan of Arc captured?\",\n \"Which war does Joan of Arc lead many battles in?\",\n \"Who tries to get Joan of Arc to disclaim her beliefs?\",\n \"What has God sent Joan of Arc to do?\",\n \"Who is the false letter supposed to be from?\",\n \"Where is Joan taken after the false letter fails?\",\n \"What causes Joan to sign a confession?\",\n \"What does Joan do while her head is being shaved?\",\n \"Who cries out that Joan is a saint?\",\n \"Where does Joan's soul go?\",\n \"Who did Joan lead numerous military battles against?\",\n \"During what war did Joan lead battles?\",\n \"Near what city is Joan captured?\",\n \"Where is Joan brought to stand trial?\",\n \"Who interogates Joan?\",\n \"In what year is Joan interrogated?\",\n \"Who does Joan believe gave her the mission to drive the English from France?\",\n \"The sight of what does not intimidate Joan?\",\n \"The judge condemns Joan to what?\",\n \"Joan is permitted a final what?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["She went on trial for heresy.","heresy"],["She thought her mission was to drive the English from France.","Drive the English from France."],["The letter is from King Charles VII of France.","King Charles VII of France"],["She is taken to a torture chamber. ","to the torture chamber"],["Joan faints.","she recants her confession"],["The threat of buring at the stake.","she's threatened to be burned at the stake"],["He decides to put her to death anyway.","Life imprisonment"],["She realizes that she has been unfaithful to God. ","That she has been unfaithful to God."],["The crowd thinks that she is a saint.","her true faith and calling"],["Near Compiegne","near Compiegne"],["The Hundred Years' War","Hundred Years' War"],["The judges","Her judges."],["To drive the English from France","The drive the English from France."],["King Charles VII of France","King Charles VII."],["To the torture chamber","To view the torture chamber."],["Being threatened with burned at the stake","she is threatened with burning at the stake"],["Realizes she has betrayed God","She realizes she has been unfaithful to God and recants her confession to the judge."],["A man watching her burn","A man."],["To heaven","Heaven."],["the English","The English."],["the Hundred Year War","Hundred Years' War"],["Compiegne","Compiegne"],["Rouen, Normandy","Rouen, Normandy"],["the French clerical court","French clerical court"],["1431","1431."],["God","God"],["the torture chamber","The torture chamber."],["life in prison","life imprisonment"],["Communion Mass","communion mass"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"She went on trial for heresy.\",\n \"heresy\"\n ],\n [\n \"She thought her mission was to drive the English from France.\",\n \"Drive the English from France.\"\n ],\n [\n \"The letter is from King Charles VII of France.\",\n \"King Charles VII of France\"\n ],\n [\n \"She is taken to a torture chamber. \",\n \"to the torture chamber\"\n ],\n [\n \"Joan faints.\",\n \"she recants her confession\"\n ],\n [\n \"The threat of buring at the stake.\",\n \"she's threatened to be burned at the stake\"\n ],\n [\n \"He decides to put her to death anyway.\",\n \"Life imprisonment\"\n ],\n [\n \"She realizes that she has been unfaithful to God. \",\n \"That she has been unfaithful to God.\"\n ],\n [\n \"The crowd thinks that she is a saint.\",\n \"her true faith and calling\"\n ],\n [\n \"Near Compiegne\",\n \"near Compiegne\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Hundred Years' War\",\n \"Hundred Years' War\"\n ],\n [\n \"The judges\",\n \"Her judges.\"\n ],\n [\n \"To drive the English from France\",\n \"The drive the English from France.\"\n ],\n [\n \"King Charles VII of France\",\n \"King Charles VII.\"\n ],\n [\n \"To the torture chamber\",\n \"To view the torture chamber.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Being threatened with burned at the stake\",\n \"she is threatened with burning at the stake\"\n ],\n [\n \"Realizes she has betrayed God\",\n \"She realizes she has been unfaithful to God and recants her confession to the judge.\"\n ],\n [\n \"A man watching her burn\",\n \"A man.\"\n ],\n [\n \"To heaven\",\n \"Heaven.\"\n ],\n [\n \"the English\",\n \"The English.\"\n ],\n [\n \"the Hundred Year War\",\n \"Hundred Years' War\"\n ],\n [\n \"Compiegne\",\n \"Compiegne\"\n ],\n [\n \"Rouen, Normandy\",\n \"Rouen, Normandy\"\n ],\n [\n \"the French clerical court\",\n \"French clerical court\"\n ],\n [\n \"1431\",\n \"1431.\"\n ],\n [\n \"God\",\n \"God\"\n ],\n [\n \"the torture chamber\",\n \"The torture chamber.\"\n ],\n [\n \"life in prison\",\n \"life imprisonment\"\n ],\n [\n \"Communion Mass\",\n \"communion mass\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"d053fe3c068b8a68d07d7384056afd16935e608a"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":31,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell;\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\n\n THESEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have b","! here comes he at the point of need.\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n ","\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THESEUS\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\n\n THESEUS\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n "," I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\n Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way\n Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.\n\n For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore\n Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas\n Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\n\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own","polytus, shrink not from the King,\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\n Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,\n Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.\n And sure that Terror now is very near.\n [_The cloud slowly rises and floats away_.]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear\n Of soiling men! Thou wilt not g","grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day,\n If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.\n\n LEADER\n Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!\n I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.\n\n THESEUS\n It may not be.--And more, I cast him out\n From all my realms. He shall be held about\n By two great do","of human kind.\n\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\n He holds","ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\n\n ARTEMIS\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\n\n THESEUS\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than",". There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\n\n THESEUS\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\n\n THESEUS\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise","HIPPOLYTUS\n\nOF EURIPIDES\n\n\nDRAMATIS PERSONAE\n\n THE GODDESS APHRODITE\n THESEUS, _King of Athens and Trozên_\n PHAEDRA, _daughter of Minos, King of Crete, wife to Theseus_\n HIPPOLYTUS, _bastard son of Theseus and the Amazon Hippolyte_\n THE NURSE OF PHAEDRA\n A HENCHMAN OF HIPPOLYTUS",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife",", and decked the steeds, and combed each mane;\n Weeping; for word had come that ne'er again\n The foot of our Hippolytus should roam\n This land, but waste in exile by thy doom.\n So stood we till he came, and in his tone\n No music now save sorrow's, like our own,\n And in his train a concourse without end\n Of many a chase-fellow and many a friend.\n At last he brushed his sobs away, and spake:\n ","\n Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife;\n And standeth here convicted by the dead,\n A most black villain!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.]\n Nay, hide not thine head!\n Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain.\n Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again!\n Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect;\n Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill","!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\n raises both arms to heaven._]\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not","On child and house of the evil falls like fire.\n [_A throng is seen approaching;_ HIPPOLYTUS _enters,\n supported by his attendants._]\n\n CHORUS\n Lo, it is he! The bright young head\n Yet upright there!\n Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;\n Alas for the kindred's trouble!\n It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n "," To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most","And see the steeds be groomed, and in array\n The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day\n [_He pauses, and makes a slight gesture of reverence to the Statue on\n the left. Then to the_ OLD HUNTSMAN.]\n That for thy Cyprian, friend, and nought beside!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _follows the huntsmen, who stream by the central door in\n the Castle. The_ OLD HUNTSMAN _remains_.]\n\n HUNTS","TUS\n Surely: we are but fashioned on their frame.\n\n HUNTSMAN\n Why then wilt thou be proud, and worship not ...\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Whom? If the name be speakable, speak out!\n\n HUNTSMAN\n She stands here at thy gate: the Cyprian Queen!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I greet her from afar: my life is clean.\n\n HUNTSMAN\n Clean? Nay, proud, proud; a mark for","\n Thy fault, O King, its ignorance sunders wide\n From very wickedness; and she who died\n By death the more disarmed thee, making dumb\n The voice of question. And the storm has come\n Most bitterly of all on thee! Yet I\n Have mine own sorrow, too. When good men die,\n There is no joy in heaven, albeit our ire\n On child and house of the evil falls like fire.\n [_A throng is seen approaching;_ HIPPOLYTUS _enters"],["we\n That know the joy of white virginity,\n Most hate in heaven. She sent her fire to run\n In Phaedra's veins, so that she loved thy son.\n Yet strove she long with love, and in the stress\n Fell not, till by her Nurse's craftiness\n Betrayed, who stole, with oaths of secrecy,\n To entreat thy son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke","eries.\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn\n With great love, by the working of my will.\n And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill,\n Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,\n She built a shrine, and named it _Love-at-home_:\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the","st thou hear?--\n And there: \"Betrayer of a master's bed.\"\n\n LEADER\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\n By her thou heldest dear,\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\n\n PHAEDRA\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where","and praise thee in the Song\n Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.\n O seed of ancient Aegeus, bend thee now\n And clasp thy son. Aye, hold and fear not thou!\n Not knowingly hast thou slain him; and man's way,\n When Gods send error, needs must fall astray.\n And thou, Hippolytus, shrink not from the King,\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\n Farewell","what ear to seek, what word to say!\n\n [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the\n Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits\n pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song,\n when she rises and bends close to the door_.]\n\n CHORUS\n\n Erôs, Erôs, who blindest, tear by tear,\n Men's eyes with hunger","AEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him.\n She turns upon her_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart\n To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part?\n Am I enough trod down?\n May Zeus, my sire,\n Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire!\n Said","RA (_musing_)\n Die; but how die?\n\n LEADER\n Let not such wild words fall!\n\n PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_)\n Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be\n To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me!\n To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past\n Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last.\n Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane!\n He shall not stand so proud where I have lain\n Bent in","PHAEDRA\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\n\n NURSE\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\n\n PHAEDRA\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\n\n NURSE\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraug","To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\n\n NURSE\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\n For thee and","ful Love!\n\n [PHAEDRA _during this has risen from the couch and comes forward\n collectedly. As she speaks the_ NURSE _gradually rouses herself,\n and listens more calmly._]\n\n PHAEDRA\n O Women, dwellers in this portal-seat\n Of Pelops' land, gazing towards my Crete,\n How oft, in other days than these, have I\n Through night's long hours thought of man's misery,\n And how this life is wrecked","AEDRA\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away!\n\n LEADER\n Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark\n The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say\n What thing hath come to thee?\n\n PHAEDRA (_calmly_)\n Why, what thing should it be?\n The son of that proud Amazon speaks again\n In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!\n\n","'s fleet footfall!\n Ye saw the heavens around her flare,\n When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair\n Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there\n The Bride of the bladed Thunder.\n For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air,\n Bee-like, death-like, a wonder.\n [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\n and is listening_.]\n\n PHAEDRA","ily,\n O child of woman, life is well with thee!\n\n [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.]\n\n Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind,\n Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind,\n To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare:\n A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there,\n Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm,\n And magic words. And I shall find the balm","I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\n\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA","son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings","weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\n\n ARTEMIS\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\n\n ARTEMIS\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A","ea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake,\n Honours most high in Trozên will I make;\n For yokeless maids before their bridal night\n Shall shear for thee their tresses; and a rite\n Of honouring tears be thine in ceaseless store;\n And virgin's thoughts in music evermore\n Turn toward thee, and praise thee in the Song\n Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.\n O seed of ancient","ed, what prophet knows\n The power that holds thy curb, and throws\n Thy swift heart from its race?\n [_At these words PHAEDRA gradually recovers herself\n and pays attention._]\n\n PHAEDRA\n What have I said? Woe's me! And where\n Gone straying from my wholesome mind?\n What? Did I fall in some god's snare?\n --Nurse, veil my head again, and blind\n Mine eyes.--There is a tear behind\n","\n NURSE\n Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Least to his ear some word be whispered.\n\n NURSE\n Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee!\n --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea,\n Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may,\n Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say!\n\n [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to",".\n\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\n\n NURSE\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\n\n NURSE\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\n\n NURSE (_to herself"],["weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\n\n ARTEMIS\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\n\n ARTEMIS\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A","TUS\n Surely: we are but fashioned on their frame.\n\n HUNTSMAN\n Why then wilt thou be proud, and worship not ...\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Whom? If the name be speakable, speak out!\n\n HUNTSMAN\n She stands here at thy gate: the Cyprian Queen!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I greet her from afar: my life is clean.\n\n HUNTSMAN\n Clean? Nay, proud, proud; a mark for","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell;\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\n\n THESEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have b","of!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\n\n THESEUS\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah me!\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\n\n ARTEMIS\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc"," I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\n Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way\n Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.\n\n For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore\n Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas\n Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart","\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?\n\n NURSE\n Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ...\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge!\n\n NURSE\n Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\n\n NURSE\n It is not meet","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\n\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own","of human kind.\n\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\n He holds","!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\n raises both arms to heaven._]\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not",". There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\n\n THESEUS\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\n\n THESEUS\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise","IPPOLYTUS\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\n\n NURSE\n It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear.\n\n NURSE\n Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore.\n\n NURSE\n O Son","hesitate in spite of his fury._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own hand\n Lift, if thou canst, to drive me from the land.\n\n THESEUS\n That will I straight, unless my will be done!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _comes close to him and kneels._]\n Nay! Not for thee my pity! Get thee gone!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away","ed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--Aye, 'twas she.\n\n ARTEMIS\n She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.\n\n ARTEMIS\n Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is",", and to thee!\n\n THESEUS\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Alas!","centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean,\n What poison have I heard, what speechless sin!\n\n NURSE\n Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ...\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?\n\n NURSE\n "," To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most","ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\n\n ARTEMIS\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\n\n THESEUS\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than","On child and house of the evil falls like fire.\n [_A throng is seen approaching;_ HIPPOLYTUS _enters,\n supported by his attendants._]\n\n CHORUS\n Lo, it is he! The bright young head\n Yet upright there!\n Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;\n Alas for the kindred's trouble!\n It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n ","! here comes he at the point of need.\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n ","And see the steeds be groomed, and in array\n The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day\n [_He pauses, and makes a slight gesture of reverence to the Statue on\n the left. Then to the_ OLD HUNTSMAN.]\n That for thy Cyprian, friend, and nought beside!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _follows the huntsmen, who stream by the central door in\n the Castle. The_ OLD HUNTSMAN _remains_.]\n\n HUNTS"],["some Men of the Chorus of Huntsmen_.]\n\n CHORUS\n\n _Men_\n Surely the thought of the Gods hath balm in it alway, to win me\n Far from my griefs; and a thought, deep in the dark of my mind,\n Clings to a great Understanding. Yet all the spirit within me\n Faints, when I watch men's deeds matched with the guerdon they find.\n For Good comes in Evil's traces,\n And the Evil the Good replaces;\n","\n Of Pentheus racked in ruin fall?\n\n LEADER\n Our God is in the house! Ye maids adore Him!\n\n CHORUS\n We adore Him all!\n\n THE VOICE\n Unveil the Lightning's eye; arouse\n The fire that sleeps, against this house!\n [_Fire leaps upon the Tomb of Semelê._]\n\n A MAIDEN\n Ah, saw ye, marked ye there the flame\n From Semelê's enh","now wert sitting chained amid thy crew\n Of raving damsels, for this evil dream\n Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam\n Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival,\n In all their prayers is no more health at all!\n\n LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS)\n Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God,\n Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod,\n Life-spring to great E","His crown, and tread His dances! Aye,\n Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod!\n I will not lift mine arm to war with God\n For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell\n Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell,\n But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured!\n\n CHORUS\n Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word,\n And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God.\n\n CAD","since pain is there,\n Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm,\n And magic words. And I shall find the balm,\n Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay\n Were men, could not we women find our way!\n\n LEADER OF THE CHORUS\n Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says,\n To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise;\n Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear\n Than all her chiding was, and bitterer!",",\n But as I see--blind words and a blind heart!\n [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._]\n\n CHORUS\n\n _Some Maidens_\n Thou Immaculate on high;\n Thou Recording Purity;\n Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing,\n Earthward, manward, pitying,\n Hearest thou this angry King?\n Hearest thou the rage and scorn\n 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices,\n Him of mortal mother born","'s laws, and have no thought beyond His will,\n Is man's best treasure. Aye, and wisdom true,\n Methinks, for things of dust to cleave unto!\n [_The_ MESSENGER _departs into the Castle_.]\n\n CHORUS\n\n _Some Maidens_\n Weave ye the dance, and call\n Praise to God!\n Bless ye the Tyrant's fall!\n Down is trod\n Pentheus, the Dragon's Seed!\n","chambers, lest one day\n The stones find voice, and all be finished!\n Nay,\n Friends, 'tis for this I die; lest I stand there\n Having shamed my husband and the babes I bare.\n In ancient Athens they shall some day dwell,\n My babes, free men, free-spoken, honourable,\n\n EURIPIDES\n And when one asks their mother, proud of me!\n For, oh, it cows a man, though bold he be,\n To know","ê cometh! And her eyes\n Make fire around her, reeling! Ho, the prize\n Cometh! All hail, O Rout of Dionyse!\n [_Enter from the Mountain_ AGAVE, _mad, and to all seeming wondrously\n happy, bearing the head of_ PENTHEUS _in her hand. The_ CHORUS MAIDENS\n _stand horror-struck at the sight; the_ LEADER, _also horror-struck,\n strives to accept it and rejoice in it","heart in froth\n Of youth surges against thee, be not wroth\n For ever! Nay, be far and hear not then:\n Gods should be gentler and more wise than men!\n [_He rises and follows the others into the Castle_.]\n\n _The Orchestra is empty for a moment, then there enter from right and\n left several Trosenian women young and old. Their number eventually\n amounts to fifteen._\n\n CHORUS\n There riseth a rock-born river,\n Of Ocean's tribe","\n Is it his mother?--and cry:\n \"Lo, what is this that comes,\n Haunting, troubling still,\n Even in our heights, our homes,\n The wild Maids of the Hill?\n What flesh bare this child?\n Never on woman's breast\n Changeling so evil smiled;\n Man is he not, but Beast!\n Loin-shape of the wild,\n Gorgon-breed of the waste!\"\n\n _All the Chorus_\n Hither, for doom and","What greatness have ye lost!\n Woe, woe is me!\n Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee!\n\n CHORUS\n On all this folk, both low and high,\n A grief hath fallen beyond men's fears.\n There cometh a throbbing of many tears,\n A sound as of waters falling.\n For when great men die,\n A mighty name and a bitter cry\n Rise up from a nation calling.\n [_They move into the Castle, carrying the body of_","not from thee;\n Blowing to beautiful things,\n On, amid dark and light,\n Till Life, through the trammellings\n Of Laws that are not the Right,\n Breaks, clean and pure, and sings\n Glorying to God in the height!\n\n _All the Chorus_\n Hither for doom and deed!\n Hither with lifted sword,\n Justice, Wrath of the Lord,\n Come in our visible need!\n Smite till the throat shall bleed,\n Sm"," TWO MESSENGERS.\n A CHORUS OF INSPIRED DAMSELS, _following Dionysus from the East_.\n\n_\"The play was first produced after the death of Euripides by his son who\nbore the same name, together with the Iphigenia in Aulis and the Alcmaeon,\nprobably in the year 405 B.C.\"_\n\n_The background represents the front of the Castle of_ PENTHEUS, _King of\nThebes. At one side is visible the sacred","On child and house of the evil falls like fire.\n [_A throng is seen approaching;_ HIPPOLYTUS _enters,\n supported by his attendants._]\n\n CHORUS\n Lo, it is he! The bright young head\n Yet upright there!\n Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;\n Alas for the kindred's trouble!\n It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n ","wild,\n Gorgon-breed of the waste!\"\n\n _All the Chorus_\n Hither, for doom and deed!\n Hither with lifted sword,\n Justice, Wrath of the Lord,\n Come in our visible need!\n Smite till the throat shall bleed,\n Smite till the heart shall bleed,\n Him the tyrannous, lawless, Godless, Echîon's earthborn seed!\n\n _Other Maidens_\n Tyrannously hath he tro","and so lost?\n Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late,\n To that swift river that no life hath crossed.\n No woman ever lived so desolate!\n\n LEADER OF THE CHORUS\n Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast\n Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost!\n [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS","Master, Master, it is Thou!\n\n ANOTHER\n O Holy Voice, be with us now!\n\n THE VOICE\n Spirit of the Chained Earthquake,\n Hear my word; awake, awake!\n [_An Earthquake suddenly shakes the pillars of the Castle._]\n\n A MAIDEN\n Ha! what is coming? Shall the hall\n Of Pentheus racked in ruin fall?\n\n LEADER\n Our God is in the house! Ye maids adore Him","of the Mountain! Gather all\n Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall.\n I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide\n Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side.\n\n [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen\n Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white\n robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and\n carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and","CHORUS\n\n Erôs, Erôs, who blindest, tear by tear,\n Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe\n that pliest\n Deep in our hearts joy like an edgèd spear;\n Come not to me with Evil haunting near,\n Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear\n Wing's music as thou fliest!\n There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire,\n Not in wild stars, far off"],["\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?\n\n NURSE\n Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ...\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge!\n\n NURSE\n Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\n\n NURSE\n It is not meet","I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\n\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA","and so lost?\n Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late,\n To that swift river that no life hath crossed.\n No woman ever lived so desolate!\n\n LEADER OF THE CHORUS\n Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast\n Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost!\n [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS","centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean,\n What poison have I heard, what speechless sin!\n\n NURSE\n Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ...\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?\n\n NURSE\n ","ath fallen on us!\n\n NURSE (_starting_)\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?\n\n PHAEDRA\n What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...\n\n NURSE\n Hippolytus, say'st thou?\n\n PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_)\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers",", in God's name!--Nay, leave me; loose my hand!\n\n NURSE\n Never, until thou grant me what I pray.\n\n PHAEDRA (_yielding, after a pause_)\n So be it. I dare not tear that hand away.\n\n NURSE (_rising and releasing PHAEDRA_)\n Tell all thou wilt, Daughter. I speak no more.\n\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\n\n N","\n NURSE\n Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Least to his ear some word be whispered.\n\n NURSE\n Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee!\n --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea,\n Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may,\n Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say!\n\n [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to","woe than losing thee.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Yet the deed shall honour me.\n\n NURSE\n Why hide what honours thee? 'Tis all I claim!\n\n PHAEDRA\n Why, so I build up honour out of shame!\n\n NURSE\n Then speak, and higher still thy fame shall stand.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Go, in God's name!--Nay, leave me; loose my hand!\n\n NURSE\n Never, until thou grant me what","PHAEDRA\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\n\n NURSE\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\n\n PHAEDRA\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\n\n NURSE\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraug"," Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.\n\n NURSE (_suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet_)\n Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?\n\n PHAEDRA (_rising and trying to move away_)\n What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my","IPPOLYTUS\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\n\n NURSE\n It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear.\n\n NURSE\n Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore.\n\n NURSE\n O Son","AEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him.\n She turns upon her_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart\n To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part?\n Am I enough trod down?\n May Zeus, my sire,\n Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire!\n Said","and sort thereof, 'twould like us well.\n\n NURSE\n Small leechcraft have I, and she tells no man.\n\n LEADER\n Thou know'st no cause? Nor when the unrest began?\n\n NURSE\n It all comes to the same. She will not speak.\n\n LEADER (_turning and looking at_ PHAEDRA).\n How she is changed and wasted! And how weak!\n\n NURSE\n 'Tis the third day she hath fasted utterly.\n\n","that thou could'st tell what I must tell!\n\n NURSE\n I am no seer in things I wot not of.\n\n PHAEDRA (_again hesitating_)\n What is it that they mean, who say men...love?\n\n NURSE\n A thing most sweet, my Child, yet dolorous.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Only the half, belike, hath fallen on us!\n\n NURSE (_starting_)\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou",".\n This man's whole being to one blade is wrought\n Of rage against me. Even now he speeds\n To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds;\n Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin!\n Cursèd be thou, and whoso else leaps in\n To bring bad aid to friends that want it not.\n [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA,\n _downcast but calm_.]\n\n NURSE\n Mistress,","and I love thee; and I sought\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\n And found--not what I sought for. Else I were\n Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.\n So fares it with us all in the world's sight.\n\n PHAEDRA\n First stab me to the heart, then humour me\n With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\n\n NURSE\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill;","Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\n\n NURSE\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh,\n There is a way to save thee, even so!\n\n PHAEDRA\n A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod\n Already, foul and false and loathed of god!\n Begone out of my sight; and ponder how\n Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.\n [_She turns from the_ NURSE,","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell;\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\n\n THESEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have b","To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\n\n NURSE\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\n For thee and","has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA,\n _downcast but calm_.]\n\n NURSE\n Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot\n So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild,\n I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child,\n I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught.\n I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\n And found--not what I sought for."],["st thou hear?--\n And there: \"Betrayer of a master's bed.\"\n\n LEADER\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\n By her thou heldest dear,\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\n\n PHAEDRA\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where","son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings"," [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\n and is listening_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\n\n LEADER\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\n\n LEADER\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, misery!\n O God, that","AEDRA\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away!\n\n LEADER\n Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark\n The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say\n What thing hath come to thee?\n\n PHAEDRA (_calmly_)\n Why, what thing should it be?\n The son of that proud Amazon speaks again\n In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!\n\n","_is heard from within, crying,\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\n\n VOICE\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\n\n A WOMAN\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\n\n VOICE\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\n So fast! Will no one bring me a","PHAEDRA\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\n\n NURSE\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\n\n PHAEDRA\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\n\n NURSE\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraug","I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\n\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA","evil-starred God's-messenger!\n Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo\n The bolts; and let me see the bitter view\n Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own.\n [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body\n of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of\n Handmaids, wailing_.]\n\n THE HANDMAIDS\n Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done:\n A",", in God's name!--Nay, leave me; loose my hand!\n\n NURSE\n Never, until thou grant me what I pray.\n\n PHAEDRA (_yielding, after a pause_)\n So be it. I dare not tear that hand away.\n\n NURSE (_rising and releasing PHAEDRA_)\n Tell all thou wilt, Daughter. I speak no more.\n\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\n\n N","the deeps below are unrevealed,\n And we drift on legends for ever!\n [PHAEDRA _during this has been laid on her couch;\n she speaks to the handmaids_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Yes; lift me: not my head so low.\n There, hold my arms.--Fair arms they seem!--\n My poor limbs scarce obey me now!\n Take off that hood that weighs my brow,\n And let my long hair stream.\n\n NURSE\n Nay,","Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still?\n Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame,\n Or let me cry for ever on their shame!\n [_He goes off in fury to the left_.\n PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state.\n What shelter now is left or guard?\n What spell to loose the iron knot of fate?\n And this thing, O my God,","LEADER\n By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear,\n No word will I of these thy griefs reveal!\n\n PHAEDRA\n 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel\n And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is,\n I clutch at in this coil of miseries;\n To save some honour for my children's sake;\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\n The old","I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, misery!\n O God, that such a thing should fall on me!\n\n LEADER\n What sound, what word,\n O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start\n Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard\n Hath leapt upon thine heart?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks","ath fallen on us!\n\n NURSE (_starting_)\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?\n\n PHAEDRA\n What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...\n\n NURSE\n Hippolytus, say'st thou?\n\n PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_)\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers","To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\n\n NURSE\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\n For thee and"," Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.\n\n NURSE (_suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet_)\n Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?\n\n PHAEDRA (_rising and trying to move away_)\n What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my","RA (_musing_)\n Die; but how die?\n\n LEADER\n Let not such wild words fall!\n\n PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_)\n Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be\n To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me!\n To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past\n Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last.\n Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane!\n He shall not stand so proud where I have lain\n Bent in",".\n\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\n\n NURSE\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\n\n NURSE\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\n\n NURSE (_to herself","what thing should it be?\n The son of that proud Amazon speaks again\n In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!\n\n LEADER\n I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear.\n For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks\n Floating, at thy heart it knocks.\n\n PHAEDRA\n \"Pander of Sin\" it says.--Now canst thou hear?--\n And there: \"Betrayer of a master's bed.\"\n\n LEADER\n Ah me, bet",";\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\n The old proud Cretan castle whence I came,\n I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes,\n Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice!\n\n LEADER\n What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall?\n\n PHAEDRA (_musing_)\n Die; but how die?\n\n LEADER\n Let not such wild words fall!\n\n PHA"],["And see the steeds be groomed, and in array\n The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day\n [_He pauses, and makes a slight gesture of reverence to the Statue on\n the left. Then to the_ OLD HUNTSMAN.]\n That for thy Cyprian, friend, and nought beside!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _follows the huntsmen, who stream by the central door in\n the Castle. The_ OLD HUNTSMAN _remains_.]\n\n HUNTS"," To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most","!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\n raises both arms to heaven._]\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not",".\n The whole land held his voice, and answering\n Roared in each echo. And all we, gazing there,\n Gazed seeing not; 'twas more than eyes could bear.\n Then straight upon the team wild terror fell.\n Howbeit, the Prince, cool-eyed and knowing well\n Each changing mood a horse has, gripped the reins\n Hard in both hands; then as an oarsman strains\n Up from his bench, so strained he on the thong,\n Back in the chariot swinging. But the young\n","as fire from a God's hand sped,\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah, pain, pain, pain!\n O unrighteous curse! O unrighteous sire!\n No hope.--My head is stabbed with fire,\n And a leaping spasm about my brain.\n Stay, let me rest. I can no more.\n O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed,\n Have ye maimed me and slain, that loved me of yore?\n","polytus, shrink not from the King,\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\n Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,\n Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.\n And sure that Terror now is very near.\n [_The cloud slowly rises and floats away_.]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear\n Of soiling men! Thou wilt not g","slain.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\n I called thee Father; thou hast heard my prayer!\n How did he die? Speak on. How closed the snare\n Of Heaven to slay the shamer of my blood?\n\n HENCHMAN\n 'Twas by the bank of beating sea we stood,\n We thralls, and decked the steeds, and combed each mane;\n Weeping; for word had come that ne'er again\n The","thou false\n Curse of my Father!--Help! Help, whoso can,\n An innocent, innocent and stainless man!\"\n Many there were that laboured then, I wot,\n To bear him succour, but could reach him not,\n Till--who knows how?--at last the tangled rein\n Unclasped him, and he fell, some little vein\n Of life still pulsing in him.\n All beside,\n The steeds, the hornèd Horror of the Tide,\n Had vanished","we made our way\n Up toward the desert region, where the bay\n Curls to a promontory near the verge\n Of our Trozên, facing the southward surge\n Of Saron's gulf. Just there an angry sound,\n Slow-swelling, like God's thunder underground\n Broke on us, and we trembled. And the steeds\n Pricked their ears skyward, and threw back their heads.\n And wonder came on all men, and affright,\n Whence rose that awful voice. And swift our",", and turned again\n The four great coursers, terror-mad. But when\n Their blind rage drove them toward the rocky places,\n Silent and ever nearer to the traces,\n It followed rockward, till one wheel-edge grazed.\n The chariot tript and flew, and all was mazed\n In turmoil. Up went wheel-box with a din,\n Where the rock jagged, and nave and axle-pin.\n And there--the long reins round him--there was he\n Dragging, entangled","reign in darkness like me not.\n\n HUNTSMAN\n What the Gods ask, O Son, that man must pay!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_turning from him to the others_).\n On, huntsmen, to the Castle! Make your way\n Straight to the feast room; 'tis a merry thing\n After the chase, a board of banqueting.\n And see the steeds be groomed, and in array\n The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day\n [_He","On child and house of the evil falls like fire.\n [_A throng is seen approaching;_ HIPPOLYTUS _enters,\n supported by his attendants._]\n\n CHORUS\n Lo, it is he! The bright young head\n Yet upright there!\n Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;\n Alas for the kindred's trouble!\n It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n ",". There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\n\n THESEUS\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\n\n THESEUS\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise","O Artemis, that I were there\n To tame Enetian steeds and steer\n Swift chariots in the ring!\n\n NURSE\n Nay, mountainward but now thy hands\n Yearned out, with craving for the chase;\n And now toward the unseaswept sands\n Thou roamest, where the coursers pace!\n O wild young steed, what prophet knows\n The power that holds thy curb, and throws\n Thy swift heart from its race?\n [_"," I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\n Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way\n Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.\n\n For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore\n Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas\n Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart","this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\n\n HENCHMAN\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\n Curse of thy lips.\n The boon of thy great Sire\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\n I called thee",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife","mus hidden, then the rock\n Of Epidaurus. Then it broke, one shock\n And roar of gasping sea and spray flung far,\n And shoreward swept, where stood the Prince's car.\n Three lines of wave together raced, and, full\n In the white crest of them, a wild Sea-Bull\n Flung to the shore, a fell and marvellous Thing.\n The whole land held his voice, and answering\n Roared in each echo. And all we, gazing there,\n Gazed","! here comes he at the point of need.\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n ","SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\n "],["of!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\n\n THESEUS\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah me!\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\n\n ARTEMIS\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc",". There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\n\n THESEUS\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\n\n THESEUS\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise","son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings"," Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood\n That makes me marvel! By my faith, wert thou\n The son, and I the sire; and deemed I now\n In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed,\n I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed,\n But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so","\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THESEUS\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\n\n THESEUS\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n ","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell;\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\n\n THESEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have b","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\n\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own","!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\n raises both arms to heaven._]\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not","SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\n ",", and to thee!\n\n THESEUS\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Alas!","thy child in misery.\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, bring him hither. Let me see the face\n Of him who durst deny my deep disgrace\n And his own sin; yea, speak with him, and prove\n His clear guilt by God's judgments from above.\n [_The_ HENCHMAN _departs to fetch_ HIPPOLYTUS; THESEUS _sits waiting in\n stern gloom, while the_ CHORUS _sing. At the close of their song a\n Divine Figure","! Yet here\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Alas!\n Would I could stand and watch this thing, and see\n My face, and weep for very pity of me!\n\n THESEUS\n Full of thyself, as ever! Not a thought\n For them that gave thee birth; nay, they are naught!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\n May none I love e'","ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\n\n ARTEMIS\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\n\n THESEUS\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than","hesitate in spite of his fury._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own hand\n Lift, if thou canst, to drive me from the land.\n\n THESEUS\n That will I straight, unless my will be done!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _comes close to him and kneels._]\n Nay! Not for thee my pity! Get thee gone!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away","grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day,\n If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.\n\n LEADER\n Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!\n I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.\n\n THESEUS\n It may not be.--And more, I cast him out\n From all my realms. He shall be held about\n By two great do","ed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--Aye, 'twas she.\n\n ARTEMIS\n She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.\n\n ARTEMIS\n Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is"," To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most","this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\n\n HENCHMAN\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\n Curse of thy lips.\n The boon of thy great Sire\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\n I called thee","eyes;\n It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!\n\n THESEUS (_supporting him in his arms_)\n Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.\n\n THESEUS\n Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THE",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife"],["!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell;\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\n\n THESEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have b",". There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\n\n THESEUS\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\n\n THESEUS\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise","eyes;\n It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!\n\n THESEUS (_supporting him in his arms_)\n Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.\n\n THESEUS\n Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THE","of!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\n\n THESEUS\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah me!\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\n\n ARTEMIS\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc","\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THESEUS\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\n\n THESEUS\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n ","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\n\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own","ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\n\n ARTEMIS\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\n\n THESEUS\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than"," But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\n\n","SEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death...\n Quick, Father; lay the mantle on my face.\n [THESEUS _covers his face with a mantle and rises._]\n\n THESEUS\n Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race,\n What greatness have ye lost!\n Woe, woe is me!\n Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife",", and to thee!\n\n THESEUS\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Alas!"," To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most","hesitate in spite of his fury._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own hand\n Lift, if thou canst, to drive me from the land.\n\n THESEUS\n That will I straight, unless my will be done!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _comes close to him and kneels._]\n Nay! Not for thee my pity! Get thee gone!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away","e my pity! Get thee gone!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away._\n THESEUS, _as soon as he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters the\n Castle. The door is closed again._ HIPPOLYTUS _has stopped for a\n moment before the Statue of _ARTEMIS, _and, as _THESEUS_ departs,\n breaks out in prayer._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n So; it is done! O dark","weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\n\n ARTEMIS\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\n\n ARTEMIS\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A","! Yet here\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Alas!\n Would I could stand and watch this thing, and see\n My face, and weep for very pity of me!\n\n THESEUS\n Full of thyself, as ever! Not a thought\n For them that gave thee birth; nay, they are naught!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\n May none I love e'","? Drive me from thy sight unheard?\n\n THESEUS\n This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot\n To speak from, tells me all. I ponder not\n Thy fowls that fly above us! Let them fly.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O ye great Gods, wherefore unlock not I\n My lips, ere yet ye have slain me utterly,\n Ye whom I love most? No. It may not be!\n The one heart that I need I ne'er should gain\n To","polytus, shrink not from the King,\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\n Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,\n Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.\n And sure that Terror now is very near.\n [_The cloud slowly rises and floats away_.]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear\n Of soiling men! Thou wilt not g","as fire from a God's hand sped,\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah, pain, pain, pain!\n O unrighteous curse! O unrighteous sire!\n No hope.--My head is stabbed with fire,\n And a leaping spasm about my brain.\n Stay, let me rest. I can no more.\n O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed,\n Have ye maimed me and slain, that loved me of yore?\n","! here comes he at the point of need.\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n "],[",\n (Alas for the day!)\n Was he naught, then, to you,\n That ye cast him away,\n The stainless and true,\n From the old happy places?\n\n LEADER\n Look yonder! 'Tis the Prince's man, I ween\n Speeding toward this gate, most dark of mien.\n [A HENCHMAN _enters in haste_.]\n\n HENCHMAN\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\n King Theseus? Is he in this",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife","there. The rumour is\n She cometh fleet-foot hither.--Ah! 'Tis true;\n A sight I scarce can bend mine eyes unto.\n\n AGAVE (_turning from the Palace and seeing him_)\n My father, a great boast is thine this hour.\n Thou hast begotten daughters, high in power\n And valiant above all mankind--yea, all\n Valiant, though none like me! I have let fall\n The shuttle by the loom, and raised my hand\n For","te_.]\n\n HENCHMAN\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\n King Theseus? Is he in this dwelling? Speak!\n\n LEADER\n Lo, where he cometh through the Castle gate!\n [THESEUS _comes out from the Castle_.]\n\n HENCHMAN\n O King, I bear thee tidings of dire weight\n To thee, aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n ","What greatness have ye lost!\n Woe, woe is me!\n Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee!\n\n CHORUS\n On all this folk, both low and high,\n A grief hath fallen beyond men's fears.\n There cometh a throbbing of many tears,\n A sound as of waters falling.\n For when great men die,\n A mighty name and a bitter cry\n Rise up from a nation calling.\n [_They move into the Castle, carrying the body of_","that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.\n 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run\n Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.\n What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?\n [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\n Why art thou silent","Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear\n Of soiling men! Thou wilt not grieve in heaven\n For my long love! ...Father, thou art forgiven.\n It was Her will. I am not wroth with thee...\n I have obeyed Her all my days! ...\n Ah me,\n The dark is drawing down upon mine eyes;\n It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!\n\n THESEUS (_supporting him in his","elling-place between\n The roofless rocks and shadowy pine trees green.\n Thus shall this Thebes, how sore soe'er it smart,\n Learn and forget not, till she crave her part\n In mine adoring; thus must I speak clear\n To save my mother's fame, and crown me here,\n As true God, born by Semelê to Zeus.\n\n Now Cadmus yieldeth up his throne and use\n Of royal honour to his daughter's son\n Pentheus; who on my body hath begun\n","Castle, have not noticed\n the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the\n garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or\n special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.]\n\n THESEUS\n Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim\n Within the house? The vassals' outcry came\n To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet\n To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet\n With a","\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\n\n LEADER\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou?","\n Take off that hood that weighs my brow,\n And let my long hair stream.\n\n NURSE\n Nay, toss not, Child, so feveredly.\n The sickness best will win relief\n By quiet rest and constancy.\n All men have grief.\n\n PHAEDRA (_not noticing her_)\n Oh for a deep and dewy spring,\n With runlets cold to draw and drink!\n And a great meadow blossoming,\n Long-grassed, and poplars in a ring,"," TWO MESSENGERS.\n A CHORUS OF INSPIRED DAMSELS, _following Dionysus from the East_.\n\n_\"The play was first produced after the death of Euripides by his son who\nbore the same name, together with the Iphigenia in Aulis and the Alcmaeon,\nprobably in the year 405 B.C.\"_\n\n_The background represents the front of the Castle of_ PENTHEUS, _King of\nThebes. At one side is visible the sacred"," But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\n\n","place apart, inviolate,\n His daughter's sanctuary; and I have set\n My green and clustered vines to robe it round\n Far now behind me lies the golden ground\n Of Lydian and of Phrygian; far away\n The wide hot plains where Persian sunbeams play,\n The Bactrian war-holds, and the storm-oppressed\n Clime of the Mede, and Araby the Blest,\n And Asia all, that by the salt sea lies\n In proud embattled cities,","in, nor yet disgrace.\n Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers?\n\n PENTHEUS\n Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers.\n\n DIONYSUS\n Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland.\n\n PENTHEUS\n And whence these revelations, that thy band\n Spreadeth in Hellas?\n\n DIONYSUS\n Their intent and use\n Dionysus oped to me, the","\n To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet\n To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet\n With a joy held from God's Presence!\n [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him.\n A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.]\n\n How?\n Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow?\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\n [_","_is heard from within, crying,\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\n\n VOICE\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\n\n A WOMAN\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\n\n VOICE\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\n So fast! Will no one bring me a","ath.\n But soft, methinks a footstep sounds even now within the hall;\n 'Tis he; how think ye he will stand, and what words speak withal?\n I will endure him gently, though he come in fury hot.\n For still are the ways of Wisdom, and her temper trembleth not!\n [_Enter_ PENTHEUS _in fury_]\n\n PENTHEUS\n It is too much! This Eastern knave hath slipped\n His prison, whom I held but now, hard gripped\n",", and to thee!\n\n THESEUS\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Alas!","! here comes he at the point of need.\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n "],[":\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day\n When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,\n Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,\n Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên.\n And here that grievous and amazed Queen,\n Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\n Nor dreamed","SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\n ",",\n (Alas for the day!)\n Was he naught, then, to you,\n That ye cast him away,\n The stainless and true,\n From the old happy places?\n\n LEADER\n Look yonder! 'Tis the Prince's man, I ween\n Speeding toward this gate, most dark of mien.\n [A HENCHMAN _enters in haste_.]\n\n HENCHMAN\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\n King Theseus? Is he in this","\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\n\n LEADER\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou?"," What brought this blackness over all thy life?\n [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.]\n\n THESEUS\n Ah me, this is the last\n --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest\n Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest,\n How hath thine heavy heel across me passed!\n Is it the stain of sins done long ago,\n Some fell God still remembereth,\n That must so dim and fret my life with death?\n I cannot win","it, who could speak of it?\n\n LEADER\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\n\n THESEUS\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\n\n LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it","! here comes he at the point of need.\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n ","that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.\n 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run\n Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.\n What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?\n [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\n Why art thou silent","e from this land\n To exile with all speed. Come never more\n To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore\n Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong!\n What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong,\n And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so\n Will bear men witness that I laid him low,\n Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey,\n Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay!\n\n LEADER\n Al",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife","te_.]\n\n HENCHMAN\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\n King Theseus? Is he in this dwelling? Speak!\n\n LEADER\n Lo, where he cometh through the Castle gate!\n [THESEUS _comes out from the Castle_.]\n\n HENCHMAN\n O King, I bear thee tidings of dire weight\n To thee, aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n ","this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\n\n HENCHMAN\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\n Curse of thy lips.\n The boon of thy great Sire\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\n I called thee"," Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood\n That makes me marvel! By my faith, wert thou\n The son, and I the sire; and deemed I now\n In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed,\n I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed,\n But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so","son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings","TUS\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, if I could, past Pontus, and the red\n Atlantic marge! So do I hate thine head.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Wilt weigh nor oath nor faith nor prophet's word\n To prove me? Drive me from thy sight unheard?\n\n THESEUS\n This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot\n ","turn me? Think. To what friend's door\n Betake me, banished on a charge so sore?\n\n THESEUS\n Whoso delights to welcome to his hall\n Vile ravishers ... to guard his hearth withal!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Thou seekst my heart, my tears? Aye, let it be\n Thus! I am vile to all men, and to thee!\n\n THESEUS\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\n Ere thou didst","\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou? What? My wife? ...\n Say how she died.\n LEADER\n In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.\n\n THESEUS\n A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all--\n That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall?\n\n LEADER\n We know no more. But now arrived we be,\n Theseus, to mourn","LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;\n This deadly word,\n That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,\n Yet will not stay unheard.\n [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]\n Ho, hearken all this land!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my","are forgot!\n Alas! this misery!\n Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled\n From age to age on me,\n For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old.\n\n LEADER\n Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one,\n A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone.\n\n THESEUS\n Deep, deep beneath the Earth,\n Dark may my dwelling be,\n And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth,\n ","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\n\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own"],["weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\n\n ARTEMIS\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\n\n ARTEMIS\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A","eries.\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn\n With great love, by the working of my will.\n And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill,\n Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,\n She built a shrine, and named it _Love-at-home_:\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the","_sits waiting in\n stern gloom, while the_ CHORUS _sing. At the close of their song a\n Divine Figure is seen approaching on a cloud in the air and the voice\n of_ ARTEMIS _speaks_.]\n\n CHORUS\n Thou comest to bend the pride\n Of the hearts of God and man,\n Cypris; and by thy side,\n In earth-encircling span,\n He of the changing plumes,\n The Wing that the world illumes,\n As over","there\n High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer\n To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse,\n Whate'er he be!--And in their companies\n Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon\n Away into the loneliness now one\n Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame\n Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame\n They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay,\n 'Tis more to Aph",". Then in us verily dwells\n The God himself, and speaks the thing to be.\n Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he.\n When mortal armies, mailêd and arrayed,\n Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade,\n Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them.\n Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem\n Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train\n Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-",".\n Thou lovest. Is that so strange? Many there be\n Beside thee! ... And because thou lovest, wilt fall\n And die! And must all lovers die, then? All\n That are or shall be? A blithe law for them!\n Nay, when in might she swoops, no strength can stem\n Cypris; and if man yields him, she is sweet;\n But is he proud and stubborn? From his feet\n She lifts him, and--how think you?--flings to scorn!",", cowering in the leaves. And there\n Through the appointed hour they made their prayer\n And worship of the Wand, with one accord\n Of heart and cry--\"Iacchos, Bromios, Lord,\n God of God born!\"--And all the mountain felt,\n And worshipped with them; and the wild things knelt\n And ramped and gloried, and the wilderness\n Was filled with moving voices and dim stress.\n Soon, as it chanced, beside my thicket-close\n The Queen herself passed dancing, and I","en and recovered herself_)\n Mistress, a sharp swift terror struck me low\n A moment since, hearing of this thy woe.\n But now--I was a coward! And men say\n Our second thought the wiser is alway.\n This is no monstrous thing; no grief too dire\n To meet with quiet thinking. In her ire\n A most strong goddess hath swept down on thee.\n Thou lovest. Is that so strange? Many there be\n Beside thee! ... And because thou lovest, wilt","of human kind.\n\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\n He holds"," Sleeping they lay, like wild things flung at ease\n In the forest; one half sinking on a bed\n Of deep pine greenery; one with careless head\n Amid the fallen oak leaves; all most cold\n In purity--not as thy tale was told\n Of wine-cups and wild music and the chase\n For love amid the forest's loneliness.\n Then rose the Queen Agâvê suddenly\n Amid her band, and gave the God's wild cry,\n \"Awake, ye Bac","that is wild and young\n In mountain and wave and stream,\n All that of earth is sprung,\n Or breathes in the red sunbeam;\n Yea, and Mankind. O'er all a royal throne,\n Cyprian, Cyprian, is thine alone!\n\n A VOICE FROM THE CLOUD\n O thou that rulest in Aegeus' Hall,\n I charge thee, hearken!\n Yea, it is I,\n Artemis, Virgin of God most High","ly fragrance! Though my pain\n Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.\n The Goddess Artemis is with me here.\n\n ARTEMIS\n With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?\n\n ARTEMIS\n Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or","God, against the Thunder?\n He will bind me for his prize,\n Me, the Bride of Dionyse;\n And my priest, my friend, is taken\n Even now, and buried lies;\n In the dark he lies forsaken!\n\n _All_\n Lo, we race with death, we perish,\n Dionysus, here before thee!\n Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish,\n Who implore thee, and adore thee?\n Hither down Olympus' side","_She suddenly sees the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _and\n stands with her eyes riveted upon it._]\n Ah, Cyprian! No god art thou,\n But more than god, and greater, that hath thrust\n Me and my queen and all our house to dust!\n [_She throws herself on the ground close to the statue._]\n\n CHORUS\n\n _Some Women_\n O Women, have ye heard? Nay, dare ye hear\n The desolate cry of the young Queen's misery?\n","great Love's brethren are all we on earth!\n Nay, they who con grey books of ancient days\n Or dwell among the Muses, tell--and praise--\n How Zeus himself once yearned for Semelê;\n How maiden Eôs in her radiancy\n Swept Kephalos to heaven away, away,\n For sore love's sake. And there they dwell, men say,\n And fear not, fret not; for a thing too stern\n Hath met and crushed them!\n ","spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\n He holds of all most high, gives love and praise,\n And through the wild dark woods for ever strays,\n He and the Maid together, with swift hounds\n To slay all angry beasts from out these bounds,\n To more than mortal friendship consecrate!\n\n I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\n ","EN, WITH THEIR LEADER\n\n_The scene is laid in Trozên. The play was first acted when Epameinon\nwas Archon, Olympiad 87, year 4 (B.C. 429). Euripides was first,\nIophon second, Ion third._\n\n\n APHRODITE\n Great among men, and not unnamed am I,\n The Cyprian, in God's inmost halls on high.\n And wheresoe'er from Pontus to the far\n",",\n In thine own Dictynna's sea-wild eyes?\n Who in Limna here can find thee;\n For the Deep's dry floor is her easy way,\n And she moves in the salt wet whirl of the spray.\n\n _Other Women_\n Or doth the Lord of Erechtheus' race,\n Thy Theseus, watch for a fairer face,\n For secret arms in a silent place,\n Far from thy love or chiding?\n\n _Others_\n Or h","reveal thee.\"\n\n _All_\n Still my prayer toward thee quivers,\n Dircê, still to thee I hie me;\n Why, O Blessed among Rivers,\n Wilt thou fly me and deny me?\n By His own joy I vow,\n By the grape upon the bough,\n Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now!\n\n _Other Maidens_\n Dark and of the dark impassioned\n Is this Pentheus'","of!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\n\n THESEUS\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah me!\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\n\n ARTEMIS\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc"],["IPPOLYTUS\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\n\n NURSE\n It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear.\n\n NURSE\n Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore.\n\n NURSE\n O Son","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell;\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\n\n THESEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have b","\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THESEUS\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\n\n THESEUS\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n ","\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?\n\n NURSE\n Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ...\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge!\n\n NURSE\n Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\n\n NURSE\n It is not meet","of human kind.\n\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\n He holds",". There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\n\n THESEUS\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\n\n THESEUS\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise","YTUS\n 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore.\n\n NURSE\n O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin?\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I own no kindred with the spawn of sin!\n [_He flings her from him_.]\n\n NURSE\n Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming sn","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\n\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own","when in her was no right;\n And Right I follow to mine own despite!\n\n LEADER\n It is enough! God's name is witness large,\n And thy great oath, to assoil thee of this charge,\n\n THESEUS\n Is not the man a juggler and a mage,\n Cool wits and one right oath--what more?--to assuage\n Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father,"," I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\n Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way\n Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.\n\n For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore\n Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas\n Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart","weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\n\n ARTEMIS\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\n\n ARTEMIS\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A","of!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\n\n THESEUS\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah me!\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\n\n ARTEMIS\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc","grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day,\n If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.\n\n LEADER\n Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!\n I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.\n\n THESEUS\n It may not be.--And more, I cast him out\n From all my realms. He shall be held about\n By two great do","\n Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife;\n And standeth here convicted by the dead,\n A most black villain!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.]\n Nay, hide not thine head!\n Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain.\n Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again!\n Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect;\n Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill","!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\n raises both arms to heaven._]\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not",", and to thee!\n\n THESEUS\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Alas!",";\n Hear, O most virginal,\n Hear, O most fair of all,\n In high God's golden dome.\n\n [_The huntsmen have gathered about the altar of_ ARTEMIS.\n HIPPOLYTUS _now advances from them, and approaches the Statue\n with a wreath in his hand._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n To thee this wreathed garland, from a green\n And virgin meadow bear I, O my Queen,\n Where"," To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most","? Drive me from thy sight unheard?\n\n THESEUS\n This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot\n To speak from, tells me all. I ponder not\n Thy fowls that fly above us! Let them fly.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O ye great Gods, wherefore unlock not I\n My lips, ere yet ye have slain me utterly,\n Ye whom I love most? No. It may not be!\n The one heart that I need I ne'er should gain\n To"," But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\n\n"],["PHAEDRA\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\n\n NURSE\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\n\n PHAEDRA\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\n\n NURSE\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraug","and sort thereof, 'twould like us well.\n\n NURSE\n Small leechcraft have I, and she tells no man.\n\n LEADER\n Thou know'st no cause? Nor when the unrest began?\n\n NURSE\n It all comes to the same. She will not speak.\n\n LEADER (_turning and looking at_ PHAEDRA).\n How she is changed and wasted! And how weak!\n\n NURSE\n 'Tis the third day she hath fasted utterly.\n\n"," PHAEDRA _to lie upon_.]\n\n NURSE\n O sick and sore are the days of men!\n What wouldst thou? What shall I change again\n Here is the Sun for thee; here is the sky;\n And thy weary pillows wind-swept lie,\n By the castle door.\n But the cloud of thy brow is dark, I ween;\n And soon thou wilt back to thy bower within:\n So swift to change is the path of thy feet,\n And near things hateful","st thou hear?--\n And there: \"Betrayer of a master's bed.\"\n\n LEADER\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\n By her thou heldest dear,\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\n\n PHAEDRA\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where","\n Be kindlier, and unlock that prisoned brow.\n And I, who followed then the wrong road, now\n Will leave it and be wiser. If thou fear\n Some secret sickness, there be women here\n To give thee comfort. [PHAEDRA _shakes her head_.\n No; not secret? Then\n Is it a sickness meet for aid of men?\n Speak, that a leech may tend thee.\n Silent still?\n Nay, Child, what profits silence? If 'tis ill"," [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\n and is listening_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\n\n LEADER\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\n\n LEADER\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, misery!\n O God, that","ily,\n O child of woman, life is well with thee!\n\n [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.]\n\n Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind,\n Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind,\n To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare:\n A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there,\n Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm,\n And magic words. And I shall find the balm","yore\n With the Queen. Doth she lead her hither\n To the wind and sun?--Ah, fain would I know\n What strange betiding hath blanched that brow\n And made that young life wither.\n [_The NURSE comes out from the central door followed by_ PHAEDRA,\n _who is supported by two handmaids. They make ready a couch for_\n PHAEDRA _to lie upon_.]\n\n NURSE\n O sick and sore are the days of men!\n What","and I love thee; and I sought\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\n And found--not what I sought for. Else I were\n Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.\n So fares it with us all in the world's sight.\n\n PHAEDRA\n First stab me to the heart, then humour me\n With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\n\n NURSE\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill;","the deeps below are unrevealed,\n And we drift on legends for ever!\n [PHAEDRA _during this has been laid on her couch;\n she speaks to the handmaids_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Yes; lift me: not my head so low.\n There, hold my arms.--Fair arms they seem!--\n My poor limbs scarce obey me now!\n Take off that hood that weighs my brow,\n And let my long hair stream.\n\n NURSE\n Nay,","\n\n PHAEDRA\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\n\n NURSE (_to herself_)\n I am all lost and feared. What will she say?\n\n PHAEDRA\n From there my grief comes, not from yesterday.\n\n NURSE\n I come no nearer to thy parable.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, would that thou could'st tell what I must tell!\n\n NURSE\n I am no seer in things I wot not of.","_is heard from within, crying,\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\n\n VOICE\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\n\n A WOMAN\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\n\n VOICE\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\n So fast! Will no one bring me a","has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA,\n _downcast but calm_.]\n\n NURSE\n Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot\n So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild,\n I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child,\n I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught.\n I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\n And found--not what I sought for.",".\n\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\n\n NURSE\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\n\n NURSE\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\n\n NURSE (_to herself","Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\n\n NURSE\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh,\n There is a way to save thee, even so!\n\n PHAEDRA\n A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod\n Already, foul and false and loathed of god!\n Begone out of my sight; and ponder how\n Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.\n [_She turns from the_ NURSE,","il_)\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers her face again.\n The_ NURSE _starts violently from her and walks up and down._]\n\n NURSE\n O God! what wilt thou say, Child? Wouldst thou try\n To kill me?--Oh, 'tis more than I can bear;\n Women. I will no more of it, this glare\n Of hated day, this shining of the sky.\n I will","I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, misery!\n O God, that such a thing should fall on me!\n\n LEADER\n What sound, what word,\n O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start\n Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard\n Hath leapt upon thine heart?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks","I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\n\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA","dim,\n And rest upon earth comes never.\n But if any far-off state there be,\n Dearer than life to mortality;\n The hand of the Dark hath hold thereof,\n And mist is under and mist above.\n And so we are sick of life, and cling\n On earth to this nameless and shining thing.\n For other life is a fountain sealed,\n And the deeps below are unrevealed,\n And we drift on legends for ever!\n [PHAEDRA _during this has","ful Love!\n\n [PHAEDRA _during this has risen from the couch and comes forward\n collectedly. As she speaks the_ NURSE _gradually rouses herself,\n and listens more calmly._]\n\n PHAEDRA\n O Women, dwellers in this portal-seat\n Of Pelops' land, gazing towards my Crete,\n How oft, in other days than these, have I\n Through night's long hours thought of man's misery,\n And how this life is wrecked"],["_is heard from within, crying,\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\n\n VOICE\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\n\n A WOMAN\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\n\n VOICE\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\n So fast! Will no one bring me a","I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\n\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA",";\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\n The old proud Cretan castle whence I came,\n I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes,\n Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice!\n\n LEADER\n What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall?\n\n PHAEDRA (_musing_)\n Die; but how die?\n\n LEADER\n Let not such wild words fall!\n\n PHA","RA (_musing_)\n Die; but how die?\n\n LEADER\n Let not such wild words fall!\n\n PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_)\n Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be\n To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me!\n To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past\n Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last.\n Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane!\n He shall not stand so proud where I have lain\n Bent in","son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings","st thou hear?--\n And there: \"Betrayer of a master's bed.\"\n\n LEADER\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\n By her thou heldest dear,\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\n\n PHAEDRA\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where","PHAEDRA\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\n\n NURSE\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\n\n PHAEDRA\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\n\n NURSE\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraug","Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still?\n Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame,\n Or let me cry for ever on their shame!\n [_He goes off in fury to the left_.\n PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state.\n What shelter now is left or guard?\n What spell to loose the iron knot of fate?\n And this thing, O my God,",".\n\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\n\n NURSE\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\n\n NURSE\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\n\n NURSE (_to herself","AEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him.\n She turns upon her_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart\n To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part?\n Am I enough trod down?\n May Zeus, my sire,\n Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire!\n Said","and so lost?\n Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late,\n To that swift river that no life hath crossed.\n No woman ever lived so desolate!\n\n LEADER OF THE CHORUS\n Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast\n Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost!\n [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS"," [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\n and is listening_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\n\n LEADER\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\n\n LEADER\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, misery!\n O God, that"," Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.\n\n NURSE (_suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet_)\n Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?\n\n PHAEDRA (_rising and trying to move away_)\n What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my","]\n Oh, woe is me!\n Women, we labour here all fruitlessly,\n All as far off as ever from her heart!\n She ever scorned me, and now hears no part\n Of all my prayers! [_Turning to_ PHAEDRA _again._]\n Nay, hear thou shalt, and be,\n If so thou will, more wild than the wild sea;\n But know, thou art thy little ones' betrayer!\n If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir\n To","ath fallen on us!\n\n NURSE (_starting_)\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?\n\n PHAEDRA\n What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...\n\n NURSE\n Hippolytus, say'st thou?\n\n PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_)\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers","evil-starred God's-messenger!\n Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo\n The bolts; and let me see the bitter view\n Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own.\n [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body\n of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of\n Handmaids, wailing_.]\n\n THE HANDMAIDS\n Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done:\n A","and I love thee; and I sought\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\n And found--not what I sought for. Else I were\n Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.\n So fares it with us all in the world's sight.\n\n PHAEDRA\n First stab me to the heart, then humour me\n With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\n\n NURSE\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill;","Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\n\n NURSE\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh,\n There is a way to save thee, even so!\n\n PHAEDRA\n A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod\n Already, foul and false and loathed of god!\n Begone out of my sight; and ponder how\n Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.\n [_She turns from the_ NURSE,","To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\n\n NURSE\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\n For thee and","\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou? What? My wife? ...\n Say how she died.\n LEADER\n In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.\n\n THESEUS\n A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all--\n That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall?\n\n LEADER\n We know no more. But now arrived we be,\n Theseus, to mourn"],["son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings","_is heard from within, crying,\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\n\n VOICE\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\n\n A WOMAN\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\n\n VOICE\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\n So fast! Will no one bring me a","PHAEDRA\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\n\n NURSE\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\n\n PHAEDRA\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\n\n NURSE\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraug",":\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day\n When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,\n Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,\n Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên.\n And here that grievous and amazed Queen,\n Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\n Nor dreamed",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife","I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\n\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA","st thou hear?--\n And there: \"Betrayer of a master's bed.\"\n\n LEADER\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\n By her thou heldest dear,\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\n\n PHAEDRA\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where","\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\n\n LEADER\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou?","ath fallen on us!\n\n NURSE (_starting_)\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?\n\n PHAEDRA\n What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...\n\n NURSE\n Hippolytus, say'st thou?\n\n PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_)\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers","eyes;\n It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!\n\n THESEUS (_supporting him in his arms_)\n Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.\n\n THESEUS\n Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THE","\n But know, thou art thy little ones' betrayer!\n If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir\n To Theseus' castle? Nay, not thine, I ween,\n But hers! That barbèd Amazonian Queen\n Hath left a child to bend thy children low,\n A bastard royal-hearted--sayst not so?--\n Hippolytus...\n\n PHAEDRA\n Ah!\n [_She starts up, sitting, and throws the veil off_.]",". There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\n\n THESEUS\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\n\n THESEUS\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise","\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou? What? My wife? ...\n Say how she died.\n LEADER\n In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.\n\n THESEUS\n A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all--\n That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall?\n\n LEADER\n We know no more. But now arrived we be,\n Theseus, to mourn"," [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\n and is listening_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\n\n LEADER\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\n\n LEADER\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, misery!\n O God, that",";\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\n The old proud Cretan castle whence I came,\n I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes,\n Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice!\n\n LEADER\n What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall?\n\n PHAEDRA (_musing_)\n Die; but how die?\n\n LEADER\n Let not such wild words fall!\n\n PHA","this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\n\n HENCHMAN\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\n Curse of thy lips.\n The boon of thy great Sire\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\n I called thee","that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.\n 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run\n Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.\n What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?\n [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\n Why art thou silent"," But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\n\n","it, who could speak of it?\n\n LEADER\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\n\n THESEUS\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\n\n LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it","SEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death...\n Quick, Father; lay the mantle on my face.\n [THESEUS _covers his face with a mantle and rises._]\n\n THESEUS\n Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race,\n What greatness have ye lost!\n Woe, woe is me!\n Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee"],["AEDRA\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away!\n\n LEADER\n Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark\n The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say\n What thing hath come to thee?\n\n PHAEDRA (_calmly_)\n Why, what thing should it be?\n The son of that proud Amazon speaks again\n In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!\n\n","son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings","st thou hear?--\n And there: \"Betrayer of a master's bed.\"\n\n LEADER\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\n By her thou heldest dear,\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\n\n PHAEDRA\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where"," [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\n and is listening_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\n\n LEADER\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\n\n LEADER\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, misery!\n O God, that","and I love thee; and I sought\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\n And found--not what I sought for. Else I were\n Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.\n So fares it with us all in the world's sight.\n\n PHAEDRA\n First stab me to the heart, then humour me\n With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\n\n NURSE\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill;","eries.\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn\n With great love, by the working of my will.\n And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill,\n Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,\n She built a shrine, and named it _Love-at-home_:\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the","PHAEDRA\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\n\n NURSE\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\n\n PHAEDRA\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\n\n NURSE\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraug","dim,\n And rest upon earth comes never.\n But if any far-off state there be,\n Dearer than life to mortality;\n The hand of the Dark hath hold thereof,\n And mist is under and mist above.\n And so we are sick of life, and cling\n On earth to this nameless and shining thing.\n For other life is a fountain sealed,\n And the deeps below are unrevealed,\n And we drift on legends for ever!\n [PHAEDRA _during this has","_is heard from within, crying,\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\n\n VOICE\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\n\n A WOMAN\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\n\n VOICE\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\n So fast! Will no one bring me a","I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\n\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA","we\n That know the joy of white virginity,\n Most hate in heaven. She sent her fire to run\n In Phaedra's veins, so that she loved thy son.\n Yet strove she long with love, and in the stress\n Fell not, till by her Nurse's craftiness\n Betrayed, who stole, with oaths of secrecy,\n To entreat thy son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke","I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, misery!\n O God, that such a thing should fall on me!\n\n LEADER\n What sound, what word,\n O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start\n Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard\n Hath leapt upon thine heart?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks","beneath the Earth,\n Dark may my dwelling be,\n And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth,\n O Love, of thy most sweet society.\n This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine.\n [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.]\n Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign\n Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee?\n [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks","the deeps below are unrevealed,\n And we drift on legends for ever!\n [PHAEDRA _during this has been laid on her couch;\n she speaks to the handmaids_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Yes; lift me: not my head so low.\n There, hold my arms.--Fair arms they seem!--\n My poor limbs scarce obey me now!\n Take off that hood that weighs my brow,\n And let my long hair stream.\n\n NURSE\n Nay,","and praise thee in the Song\n Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.\n O seed of ancient Aegeus, bend thee now\n And clasp thy son. Aye, hold and fear not thou!\n Not knowingly hast thou slain him; and man's way,\n When Gods send error, needs must fall astray.\n And thou, Hippolytus, shrink not from the King,\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\n Farewell","ea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake,\n Honours most high in Trozên will I make;\n For yokeless maids before their bridal night\n Shall shear for thee their tresses; and a rite\n Of honouring tears be thine in ceaseless store;\n And virgin's thoughts in music evermore\n Turn toward thee, and praise thee in the Song\n Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.\n O seed of ancient","To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\n\n NURSE\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\n For thee and","LEADER\n By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear,\n No word will I of these thy griefs reveal!\n\n PHAEDRA\n 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel\n And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is,\n I clutch at in this coil of miseries;\n To save some honour for my children's sake;\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\n The old",", in God's name!--Nay, leave me; loose my hand!\n\n NURSE\n Never, until thou grant me what I pray.\n\n PHAEDRA (_yielding, after a pause_)\n So be it. I dare not tear that hand away.\n\n NURSE (_rising and releasing PHAEDRA_)\n Tell all thou wilt, Daughter. I speak no more.\n\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\n\n N","ful Love!\n\n [PHAEDRA _during this has risen from the couch and comes forward\n collectedly. As she speaks the_ NURSE _gradually rouses herself,\n and listens more calmly._]\n\n PHAEDRA\n O Women, dwellers in this portal-seat\n Of Pelops' land, gazing towards my Crete,\n How oft, in other days than these, have I\n Through night's long hours thought of man's misery,\n And how this life is wrecked"],[". There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\n\n THESEUS\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\n\n THESEUS\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise","of!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\n\n THESEUS\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah me!\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\n\n ARTEMIS\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc","ed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--Aye, 'twas she.\n\n ARTEMIS\n She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.\n\n ARTEMIS\n Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is","weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\n\n ARTEMIS\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\n\n ARTEMIS\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell;\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\n\n THESEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have b","!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\n raises both arms to heaven._]\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not"," I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\n Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way\n Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.\n\n For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore\n Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas\n Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart","ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\n\n ARTEMIS\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\n\n THESEUS\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\n\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own"," To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most","as fire from a God's hand sped,\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah, pain, pain, pain!\n O unrighteous curse! O unrighteous sire!\n No hope.--My head is stabbed with fire,\n And a leaping spasm about my brain.\n Stay, let me rest. I can no more.\n O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed,\n Have ye maimed me and slain, that loved me of yore?\n",", and to thee!\n\n THESEUS\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Alas!","On child and house of the evil falls like fire.\n [_A throng is seen approaching;_ HIPPOLYTUS _enters,\n supported by his attendants._]\n\n CHORUS\n Lo, it is he! The bright young head\n Yet upright there!\n Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;\n Alas for the kindred's trouble!\n It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n ","\n Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife;\n And standeth here convicted by the dead,\n A most black villain!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.]\n Nay, hide not thine head!\n Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain.\n Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again!\n Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect;\n Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill"," But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\n\n","\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THESEUS\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\n\n THESEUS\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n ","grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day,\n If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.\n\n LEADER\n Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!\n I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.\n\n THESEUS\n It may not be.--And more, I cast him out\n From all my realms. He shall be held about\n By two great do","e my pity! Get thee gone!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away._\n THESEUS, _as soon as he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters the\n Castle. The door is closed again._ HIPPOLYTUS _has stopped for a\n moment before the Statue of _ARTEMIS, _and, as _THESEUS_ departs,\n breaks out in prayer._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n So; it is done! O dark","and praise thee in the Song\n Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.\n O seed of ancient Aegeus, bend thee now\n And clasp thy son. Aye, hold and fear not thou!\n Not knowingly hast thou slain him; and man's way,\n When Gods send error, needs must fall astray.\n And thou, Hippolytus, shrink not from the King,\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\n Farewell"," Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood\n That makes me marvel! By my faith, wert thou\n The son, and I the sire; and deemed I now\n In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed,\n I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed,\n But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so"],["Lord of the Main\n To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.\n\n And she, not in dishonour, yet shall die.\n I would not rate this woman's pain so high\n As not to pay mine haters in full fee\n That vengeance that shall make all well with me.\n\n But soft, here comes he, striding from the chase,\n Our Prince Hippolytus!--I will go my ways.--\n And hunters at his heels: and a loud throng\n Glorying Artem","of!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\n\n THESEUS\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah me!\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\n\n ARTEMIS\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc","\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THESEUS\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\n\n THESEUS\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n ","ed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--Aye, 'twas she.\n\n ARTEMIS\n She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.\n\n ARTEMIS\n Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is","it, who could speak of it?\n\n LEADER\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\n\n THESEUS\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\n\n LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it","this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\n\n HENCHMAN\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\n Curse of thy lips.\n The boon of thy great Sire\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\n I called thee","; but swifter than man may,\n Let loose the curse to slay thine innocent son!\n\n THESEUS\n O Goddess, let me die!\n\n ARTEMIS\n Nay; thou hast done\n A heavy wrong; yet even beyond this ill\n Abides for thee forgiveness. 'Twas the will\n Of Cypris that these evil things should be,\n Sating her wrath. And this immutably\n Hath Zeus ordained in heaven: no God may thwart\n A God'","weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\n\n ARTEMIS\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\n\n ARTEMIS\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A","of human kind.\n\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\n He holds","Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\n Nor dreamed.\n\n But never thus this love shall end!\n To Theseus' ear some whisper will I send,\n And all be bare! And that proud Prince, my foe,\n His sire shall slay with curses. Even so\n Endeth that boon the great Lord of the Main\n To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.\n\n And she, not in dishonour, yet","\n Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago\n His own red hounds through yonder forest dim\n Tore unto death, because he vaunted him\n Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware\n And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer\n With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight.\n [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.]\n\n PENTHEUS\n Down with that hand! Aroint thee","e my pity! Get thee gone!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away._\n THESEUS, _as soon as he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters the\n Castle. The door is closed again._ HIPPOLYTUS _has stopped for a\n moment before the Statue of _ARTEMIS, _and, as _THESEUS_ departs,\n breaks out in prayer._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n So; it is done! O dark","SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\n ","ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\n\n ARTEMIS\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\n\n THESEUS\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife","\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\n\n LEADER\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou?","ly fragrance! Though my pain\n Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.\n The Goddess Artemis is with me here.\n\n ARTEMIS\n With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?\n\n ARTEMIS\n Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or",", and to thee!\n\n THESEUS\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Alas!","son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings","LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;\n This deadly word,\n That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,\n Yet will not stay unheard.\n [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]\n Ho, hearken all this land!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my"],[":\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day\n When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,\n Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,\n Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên.\n And here that grievous and amazed Queen,\n Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\n Nor dreamed",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife","EN, WITH THEIR LEADER\n\n_The scene is laid in Trozên. The play was first acted when Epameinon\nwas Archon, Olympiad 87, year 4 (B.C. 429). Euripides was first,\nIophon second, Ion third._\n\n\n APHRODITE\n Great among men, and not unnamed am I,\n The Cyprian, in God's inmost halls on high.\n And wheresoe'er from Pontus to the far\n","we made our way\n Up toward the desert region, where the bay\n Curls to a promontory near the verge\n Of our Trozên, facing the southward surge\n Of Saron's gulf. Just there an angry sound,\n Slow-swelling, like God's thunder underground\n Broke on us, and we trembled. And the steeds\n Pricked their ears skyward, and threw back their heads.\n And wonder came on all men, and affright,\n Whence rose that awful voice. And swift our","te_.]\n\n HENCHMAN\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\n King Theseus? Is he in this dwelling? Speak!\n\n LEADER\n Lo, where he cometh through the Castle gate!\n [THESEUS _comes out from the Castle_.]\n\n HENCHMAN\n O King, I bear thee tidings of dire weight\n To thee, aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n ","eries.\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn\n With great love, by the working of my will.\n And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill,\n Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,\n She built a shrine, and named it _Love-at-home_:\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the","ea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake,\n Honours most high in Trozên will I make;\n For yokeless maids before their bridal night\n Shall shear for thee their tresses; and a rite\n Of honouring tears be thine in ceaseless store;\n And virgin's thoughts in music evermore\n Turn toward thee, and praise thee in the Song\n Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.\n O seed of ancient","\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\n\n LEADER\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou?","iff's brand\n Forth from great Athens! Fare ye well, O land\n And city of old Erechtheus! Thou, Trozên,\n What riches of glad youth mine eyes have seen\n In thy broad plain! Farewell! This is the end;\n The last word, the last look!\n Come, every friend\n And fellow of my youth that still may stay,\n Give me god-speed and cheer me on my way.\n Ne'er shall ye see a man more pure of spot\n "," Ismenus' shore. There by the castle side\n I see her place, the Tomb of the Lightning's Bride,\n The wreck of smouldering chambers, and the great\n Faint wreaths of fire undying--as the hate\n Dies not, that Hera held for Semelê.\n Aye, Cadmus hath done well; in purity\n He keeps this place apart, inviolate,\n His daughter's sanctuary; and I have set\n My green and clustered vines to ro","AGAVE\n Beyond measure;\n Yea, glad in the breaking\n Of dawn upon all this land,\n By the prize, the prize of my hand!\n\n LEADER\n Show them to all the land, unhappy one,\n The trophy of this deed that thou hast done!\n\n AGAVE\n Ho, all ye men that round the citadel\n And shining towers of ancient Thêbê dwell,\n Come! Look upon this prize, this lion's spoil,\n That we have taken--yea","Lord of the Main\n To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.\n\n And she, not in dishonour, yet shall die.\n I would not rate this woman's pain so high\n As not to pay mine haters in full fee\n That vengeance that shall make all well with me.\n\n But soft, here comes he, striding from the chase,\n Our Prince Hippolytus!--I will go my ways.--\n And hunters at his heels: and a loud throng\n Glorying Artem","slain.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\n I called thee Father; thou hast heard my prayer!\n How did he die? Speak on. How closed the snare\n Of Heaven to slay the shamer of my blood?\n\n HENCHMAN\n 'Twas by the bank of beating sea we stood,\n We thralls, and decked the steeds, and combed each mane;\n Weeping; for word had come that ne'er again\n The","beneath the sod\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' rancour sprung,\n Quell thee, mine own, the saintly and the true!\n My hand shall win its vengeance through and through,\n Piercing with flawless shaft what heart soe'er\n Of all men living is most dear to Her.\n Yea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake,\n Honours most high in Trozên will I make;\n","and ponder how\n Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.\n [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.]\n\n Only do ye, high Daughters of Trozên,\n Let all ye hear be as it had not been;\n Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer.\n\n LEADER\n By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear,\n No word will I of these thy griefs reveal!\n","e from this land\n To exile with all speed. Come never more\n To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore\n Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong!\n What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong,\n And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so\n Will bear men witness that I laid him low,\n Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey,\n Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay!\n\n LEADER\n Al",", and threw back their heads.\n And wonder came on all men, and affright,\n Whence rose that awful voice. And swift our sight\n Turned seaward, down the salt and roaring sand.\n And there, above the horizon, seemed to stand\n A wave unearthly, crested in the sky;\n Till Skiron's Cape first vanished from mine eye,\n Then sank the Isthmus hidden, then the rock\n Of Epidaurus. Then it broke, one shock\n And roar of gasping sea and spray fl","\n But, dead or living, let my Father see\n One day, how falsely he hath hated me!\"\n Even as he spake, he lifted up the goad\n And smote; and the steeds sprang. And down the road\n We henchmen followed, hard beside the rein,\n Each hand, to speed him, toward the Argive plain\n And Epidaurus.\n So we made our way\n Up toward the desert region, where the bay\n Curls to a promontory near the verge\n Of our","in, nor yet disgrace.\n Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers?\n\n PENTHEUS\n Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers.\n\n DIONYSUS\n Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland.\n\n PENTHEUS\n And whence these revelations, that thy band\n Spreadeth in Hellas?\n\n DIONYSUS\n Their intent and use\n Dionysus oped to me, the","of human kind.\n\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\n He holds"],["te_.]\n\n HENCHMAN\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\n King Theseus? Is he in this dwelling? Speak!\n\n LEADER\n Lo, where he cometh through the Castle gate!\n [THESEUS _comes out from the Castle_.]\n\n HENCHMAN\n O King, I bear thee tidings of dire weight\n To thee, aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n ","\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\n\n LEADER\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou?","SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\n ","it, who could speak of it?\n\n LEADER\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\n\n THESEUS\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\n\n LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife","! here comes he at the point of need.\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n ",",\n (Alas for the day!)\n Was he naught, then, to you,\n That ye cast him away,\n The stainless and true,\n From the old happy places?\n\n LEADER\n Look yonder! 'Tis the Prince's man, I ween\n Speeding toward this gate, most dark of mien.\n [A HENCHMAN _enters in haste_.]\n\n HENCHMAN\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\n King Theseus? Is he in this","this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\n\n HENCHMAN\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\n Curse of thy lips.\n The boon of thy great Sire\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\n I called thee","LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;\n This deadly word,\n That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,\n Yet will not stay unheard.\n [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]\n Ho, hearken all this land!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my","e from this land\n To exile with all speed. Come never more\n To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore\n Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong!\n What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong,\n And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so\n Will bear men witness that I laid him low,\n Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey,\n Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay!\n\n LEADER\n Al"," And swing their dying words from every tree\n On Ida! For I know that he was true!\n\n LEADER\n O God, so cometh new disaster, new\n Despair! And no escape from what must be!\n\n THESEUS\n Hate of the man thus stricken lifted me\n At first to joy at hearing of thy tale;\n But now, some shame before the Gods, some pale\n Pity for mine own blood, hath o'er me come.\n I laugh not, neither weep, at this fell do","that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.\n 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run\n Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.\n What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?\n [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\n Why art thou silent","see,\n Aye, and to trap them--so they trap not thee!\n\n PENTHEUS\n Forth through the Thebans' town! I am their king,\n Aye, their one Man, seeing I dare this thing!\n\n DIONYSUS\n Yea, thou shalt bear their burden, thou alone;\n Therefore thy trial awaiteth thee!--But on;\n With me into thine ambush shalt thou come\n Unscathed; then let another bear thee home!\n\n PENTHE"," But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\n\n","are forgot!\n Alas! this misery!\n Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled\n From age to age on me,\n For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old.\n\n LEADER\n Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one,\n A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone.\n\n THESEUS\n Deep, deep beneath the Earth,\n Dark may my dwelling be,\n And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth,\n ","of human kind.\n\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\n He holds","polytus, shrink not from the King,\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\n Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,\n Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.\n And sure that Terror now is very near.\n [_The cloud slowly rises and floats away_.]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear\n Of soiling men! Thou wilt not g","It may not be.--And more, I cast him out\n From all my realms. He shall be held about\n By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath\n He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death;\n Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea,\n Shall live and drain the cup of misery.\n\n LEADER\n Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need.\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\n For all thine house","O King,\n Hadst thou been there, as I, and seen this thing,\n With prayer and most high wonder hadst thou gone\n To adore this God whom now thou rail'st upon!\n Howbeit, the kine-wardens and shepherds straight\n Came to one place, amazed, and held debate;\n And one being there who walked the streets and scanned\n The ways of speech, took lead of them whose hand\n Knew but the slow soil and the solemn hill,\n And flattering spoke, and asked:","\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou? What? My wife? ...\n Say how she died.\n LEADER\n In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.\n\n THESEUS\n A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all--\n That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall?\n\n LEADER\n We know no more. But now arrived we be,\n Theseus, to mourn"],["SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\n ",":\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day\n When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,\n Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,\n Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên.\n And here that grievous and amazed Queen,\n Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\n Nor dreamed",",\n (Alas for the day!)\n Was he naught, then, to you,\n That ye cast him away,\n The stainless and true,\n From the old happy places?\n\n LEADER\n Look yonder! 'Tis the Prince's man, I ween\n Speeding toward this gate, most dark of mien.\n [A HENCHMAN _enters in haste_.]\n\n HENCHMAN\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\n King Theseus? Is he in this","\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\n\n LEADER\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou?"," Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood\n That makes me marvel! By my faith, wert thou\n The son, and I the sire; and deemed I now\n In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed,\n I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed,\n But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so","e from this land\n To exile with all speed. Come never more\n To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore\n Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong!\n What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong,\n And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so\n Will bear men witness that I laid him low,\n Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey,\n Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay!\n\n LEADER\n Al","son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings","that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.\n 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run\n Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.\n What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?\n [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\n Why art thou silent","it, who could speak of it?\n\n LEADER\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\n\n THESEUS\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\n\n LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it","TUS\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, if I could, past Pontus, and the red\n Atlantic marge! So do I hate thine head.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Wilt weigh nor oath nor faith nor prophet's word\n To prove me? Drive me from thy sight unheard?\n\n THESEUS\n This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot\n "," What brought this blackness over all thy life?\n [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.]\n\n THESEUS\n Ah me, this is the last\n --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest\n Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest,\n How hath thine heavy heel across me passed!\n Is it the stain of sins done long ago,\n Some fell God still remembereth,\n That must so dim and fret my life with death?\n I cannot win",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife","turn me? Think. To what friend's door\n Betake me, banished on a charge so sore?\n\n THESEUS\n Whoso delights to welcome to his hall\n Vile ravishers ... to guard his hearth withal!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Thou seekst my heart, my tears? Aye, let it be\n Thus! I am vile to all men, and to thee!\n\n THESEUS\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\n Ere thou didst","this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\n\n HENCHMAN\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\n Curse of thy lips.\n The boon of thy great Sire\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\n I called thee","! here comes he at the point of need.\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n ","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\n\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own","\n Ye whom I love most? No. It may not be!\n The one heart that I need I ne'er should gain\n To trust me. I should break mine oath in vain.\n\n THESEUS\n Death! but he chokes me with his saintly tone!--\n Up, get thee from this land! Begone! Begone!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Where shall I turn me? Think. To what friend's door\n Betake me, banished on a charge so sore?\n\n THESEUS\n"," But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\n\n","LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;\n This deadly word,\n That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,\n Yet will not stay unheard.\n [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]\n Ho, hearken all this land!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my",", and to thee!\n\n THESEUS\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Alas!"],["of!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\n\n THESEUS\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah me!\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\n\n ARTEMIS\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc","ed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--Aye, 'twas she.\n\n ARTEMIS\n She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.\n\n ARTEMIS\n Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is","\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THESEUS\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\n\n THESEUS\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n ","Lord of the Main\n To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.\n\n And she, not in dishonour, yet shall die.\n I would not rate this woman's pain so high\n As not to pay mine haters in full fee\n That vengeance that shall make all well with me.\n\n But soft, here comes he, striding from the chase,\n Our Prince Hippolytus!--I will go my ways.--\n And hunters at his heels: and a loud throng\n Glorying Artem","son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings","this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\n\n HENCHMAN\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\n Curse of thy lips.\n The boon of thy great Sire\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\n I called thee","of human kind.\n\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\n He holds","weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\n\n ARTEMIS\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\n\n ARTEMIS\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A","it, who could speak of it?\n\n LEADER\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\n\n THESEUS\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\n\n LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it","indeed beyond man's mysteries,\n To make a false heart true against his will.\n But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill,\n Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow.\n\n THESEUS (_as before_)\n O would that God had given us here below\n Some test of love, some sifting of the soul,\n To tell the false and true! Or through the whole\n Of men two voices ran, one true and right,\n The other as chance willed it; that we might\n Convict the liar by","LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;\n This deadly word,\n That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,\n Yet will not stay unheard.\n [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]\n Ho, hearken all this land!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my","near to thee, and more than kin.\n\n THESEUS (_to himself_)\n Fond race of men, so striving and so blind,\n Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find,\n Desiring all and all imagining:\n But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing,\n To make a true heart there where no heart is!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n That were indeed beyond man's mysteries,\n To make a false heart true against his will.\n But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill","Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\n Nor dreamed.\n\n But never thus this love shall end!\n To Theseus' ear some whisper will I send,\n And all be bare! And that proud Prince, my foe,\n His sire shall slay with curses. Even so\n Endeth that boon the great Lord of the Main\n To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.\n\n And she, not in dishonour, yet","Pain that is painlessness? 'Tis sleep I crave.\n When wilt thou bring me sleep,\n Thou dark and midnight magic of the grave!\n\n ARTEMIS\n Sore-stricken man, bethink thee in this stress,\n Thou dost but die for thine own nobleness.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah!\n O breath of heavenly fragrance! Though my pain\n Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.\n The Goddess Artemis is","SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\n ","ly fragrance! Though my pain\n Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.\n The Goddess Artemis is with me here.\n\n ARTEMIS\n With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?\n\n ARTEMIS\n Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or","ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\n\n ARTEMIS\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\n\n THESEUS\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife",", and to thee!\n\n THESEUS\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Alas!","e my pity! Get thee gone!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away._\n THESEUS, _as soon as he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters the\n Castle. The door is closed again._ HIPPOLYTUS _has stopped for a\n moment before the Statue of _ARTEMIS, _and, as _THESEUS_ departs,\n breaks out in prayer._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n So; it is done! O dark"],["PHAEDRA\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\n\n NURSE\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\n\n PHAEDRA\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\n\n NURSE\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraug","and sort thereof, 'twould like us well.\n\n NURSE\n Small leechcraft have I, and she tells no man.\n\n LEADER\n Thou know'st no cause? Nor when the unrest began?\n\n NURSE\n It all comes to the same. She will not speak.\n\n LEADER (_turning and looking at_ PHAEDRA).\n How she is changed and wasted! And how weak!\n\n NURSE\n 'Tis the third day she hath fasted utterly.\n\n"," PHAEDRA _to lie upon_.]\n\n NURSE\n O sick and sore are the days of men!\n What wouldst thou? What shall I change again\n Here is the Sun for thee; here is the sky;\n And thy weary pillows wind-swept lie,\n By the castle door.\n But the cloud of thy brow is dark, I ween;\n And soon thou wilt back to thy bower within:\n So swift to change is the path of thy feet,\n And near things hateful","st thou hear?--\n And there: \"Betrayer of a master's bed.\"\n\n LEADER\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\n By her thou heldest dear,\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\n\n PHAEDRA\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where","\n Be kindlier, and unlock that prisoned brow.\n And I, who followed then the wrong road, now\n Will leave it and be wiser. If thou fear\n Some secret sickness, there be women here\n To give thee comfort. [PHAEDRA _shakes her head_.\n No; not secret? Then\n Is it a sickness meet for aid of men?\n Speak, that a leech may tend thee.\n Silent still?\n Nay, Child, what profits silence? If 'tis ill"," [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\n and is listening_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\n\n LEADER\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\n\n LEADER\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, misery!\n O God, that","ily,\n O child of woman, life is well with thee!\n\n [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.]\n\n Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind,\n Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind,\n To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare:\n A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there,\n Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm,\n And magic words. And I shall find the balm","yore\n With the Queen. Doth she lead her hither\n To the wind and sun?--Ah, fain would I know\n What strange betiding hath blanched that brow\n And made that young life wither.\n [_The NURSE comes out from the central door followed by_ PHAEDRA,\n _who is supported by two handmaids. They make ready a couch for_\n PHAEDRA _to lie upon_.]\n\n NURSE\n O sick and sore are the days of men!\n What","and I love thee; and I sought\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\n And found--not what I sought for. Else I were\n Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.\n So fares it with us all in the world's sight.\n\n PHAEDRA\n First stab me to the heart, then humour me\n With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\n\n NURSE\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill;","the deeps below are unrevealed,\n And we drift on legends for ever!\n [PHAEDRA _during this has been laid on her couch;\n she speaks to the handmaids_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Yes; lift me: not my head so low.\n There, hold my arms.--Fair arms they seem!--\n My poor limbs scarce obey me now!\n Take off that hood that weighs my brow,\n And let my long hair stream.\n\n NURSE\n Nay,","\n\n PHAEDRA\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\n\n NURSE (_to herself_)\n I am all lost and feared. What will she say?\n\n PHAEDRA\n From there my grief comes, not from yesterday.\n\n NURSE\n I come no nearer to thy parable.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, would that thou could'st tell what I must tell!\n\n NURSE\n I am no seer in things I wot not of.","_is heard from within, crying,\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\n\n VOICE\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\n\n A WOMAN\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\n\n VOICE\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\n So fast! Will no one bring me a","has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA,\n _downcast but calm_.]\n\n NURSE\n Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot\n So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild,\n I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child,\n I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught.\n I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\n And found--not what I sought for.",".\n\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\n\n NURSE\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\n\n NURSE\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\n\n NURSE (_to herself","Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\n\n NURSE\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh,\n There is a way to save thee, even so!\n\n PHAEDRA\n A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod\n Already, foul and false and loathed of god!\n Begone out of my sight; and ponder how\n Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.\n [_She turns from the_ NURSE,","il_)\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers her face again.\n The_ NURSE _starts violently from her and walks up and down._]\n\n NURSE\n O God! what wilt thou say, Child? Wouldst thou try\n To kill me?--Oh, 'tis more than I can bear;\n Women. I will no more of it, this glare\n Of hated day, this shining of the sky.\n I will","I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, misery!\n O God, that such a thing should fall on me!\n\n LEADER\n What sound, what word,\n O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start\n Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard\n Hath leapt upon thine heart?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks","I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\n\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA","dim,\n And rest upon earth comes never.\n But if any far-off state there be,\n Dearer than life to mortality;\n The hand of the Dark hath hold thereof,\n And mist is under and mist above.\n And so we are sick of life, and cling\n On earth to this nameless and shining thing.\n For other life is a fountain sealed,\n And the deeps below are unrevealed,\n And we drift on legends for ever!\n [PHAEDRA _during this has","ful Love!\n\n [PHAEDRA _during this has risen from the couch and comes forward\n collectedly. As she speaks the_ NURSE _gradually rouses herself,\n and listens more calmly._]\n\n PHAEDRA\n O Women, dwellers in this portal-seat\n Of Pelops' land, gazing towards my Crete,\n How oft, in other days than these, have I\n Through night's long hours thought of man's misery,\n And how this life is wrecked"],["I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\n\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA","_is heard from within, crying,\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\n\n VOICE\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\n\n A WOMAN\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\n\n VOICE\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\n So fast! Will no one bring me a","RA (_musing_)\n Die; but how die?\n\n LEADER\n Let not such wild words fall!\n\n PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_)\n Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be\n To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me!\n To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past\n Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last.\n Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane!\n He shall not stand so proud where I have lain\n Bent in",";\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\n The old proud Cretan castle whence I came,\n I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes,\n Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice!\n\n LEADER\n What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall?\n\n PHAEDRA (_musing_)\n Die; but how die?\n\n LEADER\n Let not such wild words fall!\n\n PHA","PHAEDRA\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\n\n NURSE\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\n\n PHAEDRA\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\n\n NURSE\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraug","son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings","st thou hear?--\n And there: \"Betrayer of a master's bed.\"\n\n LEADER\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\n By her thou heldest dear,\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\n\n PHAEDRA\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where","Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still?\n Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame,\n Or let me cry for ever on their shame!\n [_He goes off in fury to the left_.\n PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state.\n What shelter now is left or guard?\n What spell to loose the iron knot of fate?\n And this thing, O my God,","AEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him.\n She turns upon her_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart\n To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part?\n Am I enough trod down?\n May Zeus, my sire,\n Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire!\n Said"," [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\n and is listening_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\n\n LEADER\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\n\n LEADER\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, misery!\n O God, that"," Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.\n\n NURSE (_suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet_)\n Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?\n\n PHAEDRA (_rising and trying to move away_)\n What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my",".\n\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\n\n NURSE\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\n\n NURSE\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\n\n NURSE (_to herself","and so lost?\n Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late,\n To that swift river that no life hath crossed.\n No woman ever lived so desolate!\n\n LEADER OF THE CHORUS\n Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast\n Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost!\n [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS","]\n Oh, woe is me!\n Women, we labour here all fruitlessly,\n All as far off as ever from her heart!\n She ever scorned me, and now hears no part\n Of all my prayers! [_Turning to_ PHAEDRA _again._]\n Nay, hear thou shalt, and be,\n If so thou will, more wild than the wild sea;\n But know, thou art thy little ones' betrayer!\n If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir\n To","Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\n\n NURSE\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh,\n There is a way to save thee, even so!\n\n PHAEDRA\n A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod\n Already, foul and false and loathed of god!\n Begone out of my sight; and ponder how\n Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.\n [_She turns from the_ NURSE,","evil-starred God's-messenger!\n Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo\n The bolts; and let me see the bitter view\n Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own.\n [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body\n of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of\n Handmaids, wailing_.]\n\n THE HANDMAIDS\n Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done:\n A","ath fallen on us!\n\n NURSE (_starting_)\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?\n\n PHAEDRA\n What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...\n\n NURSE\n Hippolytus, say'st thou?\n\n PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_)\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers","and I love thee; and I sought\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\n And found--not what I sought for. Else I were\n Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.\n So fares it with us all in the world's sight.\n\n PHAEDRA\n First stab me to the heart, then humour me\n With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\n\n NURSE\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill;","To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\n\n NURSE\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\n For thee and",", in God's name!--Nay, leave me; loose my hand!\n\n NURSE\n Never, until thou grant me what I pray.\n\n PHAEDRA (_yielding, after a pause_)\n So be it. I dare not tear that hand away.\n\n NURSE (_rising and releasing PHAEDRA_)\n Tell all thou wilt, Daughter. I speak no more.\n\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\n\n N"],["SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\n ","\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\n\n LEADER\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou?","! here comes he at the point of need.\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n ","this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\n\n HENCHMAN\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\n Curse of thy lips.\n The boon of thy great Sire\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\n\n THESEUS\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\n I called thee","that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.\n 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run\n Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.\n What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?\n [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\n Why art thou silent","son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell;\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\n\n THESEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have b",", aye, and to every man, I ween,\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\n\n THESEUS\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\n\n HENCHMAN\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\n\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife","ains silent. The murmurs increase._]\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\n Why art thou silent? What doth silence know\n Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe?\n And human hearts in sorrow crave the more,\n For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore.\n It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in\n From one most near to thee, and more than kin.\n\n THESEUS (_to himself_)\n Fond race of men, so striving and","ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\n\n ARTEMIS\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\n\n THESEUS\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than","!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\n raises both arms to heaven._]\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not","thy child in misery.\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, bring him hither. Let me see the face\n Of him who durst deny my deep disgrace\n And his own sin; yea, speak with him, and prove\n His clear guilt by God's judgments from above.\n [_The_ HENCHMAN _departs to fetch_ HIPPOLYTUS; THESEUS _sits waiting in\n stern gloom, while the_ CHORUS _sing. At the close of their song a\n Divine Figure"," Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood\n That makes me marvel! By my faith, wert thou\n The son, and I the sire; and deemed I now\n In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed,\n I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed,\n But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so","eyes;\n It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!\n\n THESEUS (_supporting him in his arms_)\n Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.\n\n THESEUS\n Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THE","when in her was no right;\n And Right I follow to mine own despite!\n\n LEADER\n It is enough! God's name is witness large,\n And thy great oath, to assoil thee of this charge,\n\n THESEUS\n Is not the man a juggler and a mage,\n Cool wits and one right oath--what more?--to assuage\n Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father,","\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THESEUS\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\n\n THESEUS\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n ","LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;\n This deadly word,\n That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,\n Yet will not stay unheard.\n [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]\n Ho, hearken all this land!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my","SEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death...\n Quick, Father; lay the mantle on my face.\n [THESEUS _covers his face with a mantle and rises._]\n\n THESEUS\n Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race,\n What greatness have ye lost!\n Woe, woe is me!\n Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee","!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\n\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own","it, who could speak of it?\n\n LEADER\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\n\n THESEUS\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\n\n LEADER\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\n\n THESEUS\n No; my lips' gates will hold it"],["son. And he, most righteously,\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\n now utters a deep groan._]\n It stings","PHAEDRA\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\n\n NURSE\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\n\n PHAEDRA\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\n\n NURSE\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraug",";\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\n The old proud Cretan castle whence I came,\n I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes,\n Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice!\n\n LEADER\n What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall?\n\n PHAEDRA (_musing_)\n Die; but how die?\n\n LEADER\n Let not such wild words fall!\n\n PHA","_is heard from within, crying,\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\n\n VOICE\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\n\n A WOMAN\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\n\n VOICE\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\n So fast! Will no one bring me a","I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\n\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA","ath fallen on us!\n\n NURSE (_starting_)\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?\n\n PHAEDRA\n What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...\n\n NURSE\n Hippolytus, say'st thou?\n\n PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_)\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers"," [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\n and is listening_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\n\n LEADER\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\n\n LEADER\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Oh, misery!\n O God, that","st thou hear?--\n And there: \"Betrayer of a master's bed.\"\n\n LEADER\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\n By her thou heldest dear,\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\n\n PHAEDRA\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where","Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still?\n Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame,\n Or let me cry for ever on their shame!\n [_He goes off in fury to the left_.\n PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.]\n\n PHAEDRA\n Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state.\n What shelter now is left or guard?\n What spell to loose the iron knot of fate?\n And this thing, O my God,"," Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\n\n NURSE\n O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?\n\n PHAEDRA\n Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.\n\n NURSE (_suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet_)\n Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?\n\n PHAEDRA (_rising and trying to move away_)\n What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my",":\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day\n When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,\n Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,\n Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên.\n And here that grievous and amazed Queen,\n Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\n Nor dreamed","AEDRA\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away!\n\n LEADER\n Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark\n The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say\n What thing hath come to thee?\n\n PHAEDRA (_calmly_)\n Why, what thing should it be?\n The son of that proud Amazon speaks again\n In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!\n\n","\n\n LEADER\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\n\n THESEUS\n How sayst thou? What? My wife? ...\n Say how she died.\n LEADER\n In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.\n\n THESEUS\n A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all--\n That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall?\n\n LEADER\n We know no more. But now arrived we be,\n Theseus, to mourn","]\n Oh, woe is me!\n Women, we labour here all fruitlessly,\n All as far off as ever from her heart!\n She ever scorned me, and now hears no part\n Of all my prayers! [_Turning to_ PHAEDRA _again._]\n Nay, hear thou shalt, and be,\n If so thou will, more wild than the wild sea;\n But know, thou art thy little ones' betrayer!\n If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir\n To","\n But know, thou art thy little ones' betrayer!\n If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir\n To Theseus' castle? Nay, not thine, I ween,\n But hers! That barbèd Amazonian Queen\n Hath left a child to bend thy children low,\n A bastard royal-hearted--sayst not so?--\n Hippolytus...\n\n PHAEDRA\n Ah!\n [_She starts up, sitting, and throws the veil off_.]","LEADER\n By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear,\n No word will I of these thy griefs reveal!\n\n PHAEDRA\n 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel\n And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is,\n I clutch at in this coil of miseries;\n To save some honour for my children's sake;\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\n The old","RA (_musing_)\n Die; but how die?\n\n LEADER\n Let not such wild words fall!\n\n PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_)\n Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be\n To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me!\n To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past\n Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last.\n Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane!\n He shall not stand so proud where I have lain\n Bent in","To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\n\n PHAEDRA\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\n\n NURSE\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\n For thee and","Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\n Nor dreamed.\n\n But never thus this love shall end!\n To Theseus' ear some whisper will I send,\n And all be bare! And that proud Prince, my foe,\n His sire shall slay with curses. Even so\n Endeth that boon the great Lord of the Main\n To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.\n\n And she, not in dishonour, yet",".\n\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\n\n NURSE\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\n\n NURSE\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\n\n PHAEDRA\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\n\n NURSE (_to herself"],["!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell;\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\n\n THESEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have b",". There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\n\n THESEUS\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\n\n THESEUS\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise","eyes;\n It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!\n\n THESEUS (_supporting him in his arms_)\n Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.\n\n THESEUS\n Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THE","\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\n\n THESEUS\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\n\n THESEUS\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\n\n THESEUS\n ","weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\n\n ARTEMIS\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\n\n ARTEMIS\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A","\n Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife;\n And standeth here convicted by the dead,\n A most black villain!\n [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.]\n Nay, hide not thine head!\n Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain.\n Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again!\n Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect;\n Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill","of!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\n\n THESEUS\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah me!\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\n\n ARTEMIS\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc","I am slain. She thought to help my fall\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\n\n LEADER\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\n\n PHAEDRA\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\n\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA"," To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\n Dead!\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\n 'Tis most","? Drive me from thy sight unheard?\n\n THESEUS\n This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot\n To speak from, tells me all. I ponder not\n Thy fowls that fly above us! Let them fly.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n O ye great Gods, wherefore unlock not I\n My lips, ere yet ye have slain me utterly,\n Ye whom I love most? No. It may not be!\n The one heart that I need I ne'er should gain\n To","ly fragrance! Though my pain\n Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.\n The Goddess Artemis is with me here.\n\n ARTEMIS\n With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?\n\n ARTEMIS\n Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or","polytus, shrink not from the King,\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\n Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,\n Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.\n And sure that Terror now is very near.\n [_The cloud slowly rises and floats away_.]\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear\n Of soiling men! Thou wilt not g"," But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\n\n THESEUS\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\n\n","as fire from a God's hand sped,\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah, pain, pain, pain!\n O unrighteous curse! O unrighteous sire!\n No hope.--My head is stabbed with fire,\n And a leaping spasm about my brain.\n Stay, let me rest. I can no more.\n O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed,\n Have ye maimed me and slain, that loved me of yore?\n",", and to thee!\n\n THESEUS\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\n\n THESEUS\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Alas!","!\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\n raises both arms to heaven._]\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not","\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?\n\n NURSE\n Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ...\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge!\n\n NURSE\n Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\n\n NURSE\n It is not meet","grant me for mine own\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\n Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day,\n If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.\n\n LEADER\n Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!\n I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.\n\n THESEUS\n It may not be.--And more, I cast him out\n From all my realms. He shall be held about\n By two great do","ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\n\n ARTEMIS\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\n\n THESEUS\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than","SEUS\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death...\n Quick, Father; lay the mantle on my face.\n [THESEUS _covers his face with a mantle and rises._]\n\n THESEUS\n Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race,\n What greatness have ye lost!\n Woe, woe is me!\n Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee"],["weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\n\n ARTEMIS\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\n\n ARTEMIS\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A","eries.\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn\n With great love, by the working of my will.\n And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill,\n Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,\n She built a shrine, and named it _Love-at-home_:\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the","_sits waiting in\n stern gloom, while the_ CHORUS _sing. At the close of their song a\n Divine Figure is seen approaching on a cloud in the air and the voice\n of_ ARTEMIS _speaks_.]\n\n CHORUS\n Thou comest to bend the pride\n Of the hearts of God and man,\n Cypris; and by thy side,\n In earth-encircling span,\n He of the changing plumes,\n The Wing that the world illumes,\n As over","there\n High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer\n To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse,\n Whate'er he be!--And in their companies\n Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon\n Away into the loneliness now one\n Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame\n Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame\n They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay,\n 'Tis more to Aph",". Then in us verily dwells\n The God himself, and speaks the thing to be.\n Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he.\n When mortal armies, mailêd and arrayed,\n Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade,\n Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them.\n Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem\n Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train\n Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-",".\n Thou lovest. Is that so strange? Many there be\n Beside thee! ... And because thou lovest, wilt fall\n And die! And must all lovers die, then? All\n That are or shall be? A blithe law for them!\n Nay, when in might she swoops, no strength can stem\n Cypris; and if man yields him, she is sweet;\n But is he proud and stubborn? From his feet\n She lifts him, and--how think you?--flings to scorn!",", cowering in the leaves. And there\n Through the appointed hour they made their prayer\n And worship of the Wand, with one accord\n Of heart and cry--\"Iacchos, Bromios, Lord,\n God of God born!\"--And all the mountain felt,\n And worshipped with them; and the wild things knelt\n And ramped and gloried, and the wilderness\n Was filled with moving voices and dim stress.\n Soon, as it chanced, beside my thicket-close\n The Queen herself passed dancing, and I","en and recovered herself_)\n Mistress, a sharp swift terror struck me low\n A moment since, hearing of this thy woe.\n But now--I was a coward! And men say\n Our second thought the wiser is alway.\n This is no monstrous thing; no grief too dire\n To meet with quiet thinking. In her ire\n A most strong goddess hath swept down on thee.\n Thou lovest. Is that so strange? Many there be\n Beside thee! ... And because thou lovest, wilt","of human kind.\n\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\n He holds"," Sleeping they lay, like wild things flung at ease\n In the forest; one half sinking on a bed\n Of deep pine greenery; one with careless head\n Amid the fallen oak leaves; all most cold\n In purity--not as thy tale was told\n Of wine-cups and wild music and the chase\n For love amid the forest's loneliness.\n Then rose the Queen Agâvê suddenly\n Amid her band, and gave the God's wild cry,\n \"Awake, ye Bac","that is wild and young\n In mountain and wave and stream,\n All that of earth is sprung,\n Or breathes in the red sunbeam;\n Yea, and Mankind. O'er all a royal throne,\n Cyprian, Cyprian, is thine alone!\n\n A VOICE FROM THE CLOUD\n O thou that rulest in Aegeus' Hall,\n I charge thee, hearken!\n Yea, it is I,\n Artemis, Virgin of God most High","ly fragrance! Though my pain\n Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.\n The Goddess Artemis is with me here.\n\n ARTEMIS\n With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?\n\n ARTEMIS\n Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Who now shall hunt with thee or","God, against the Thunder?\n He will bind me for his prize,\n Me, the Bride of Dionyse;\n And my priest, my friend, is taken\n Even now, and buried lies;\n In the dark he lies forsaken!\n\n _All_\n Lo, we race with death, we perish,\n Dionysus, here before thee!\n Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish,\n Who implore thee, and adore thee?\n Hither down Olympus' side","_She suddenly sees the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _and\n stands with her eyes riveted upon it._]\n Ah, Cyprian! No god art thou,\n But more than god, and greater, that hath thrust\n Me and my queen and all our house to dust!\n [_She throws herself on the ground close to the statue._]\n\n CHORUS\n\n _Some Women_\n O Women, have ye heard? Nay, dare ye hear\n The desolate cry of the young Queen's misery?\n","great Love's brethren are all we on earth!\n Nay, they who con grey books of ancient days\n Or dwell among the Muses, tell--and praise--\n How Zeus himself once yearned for Semelê;\n How maiden Eôs in her radiancy\n Swept Kephalos to heaven away, away,\n For sore love's sake. And there they dwell, men say,\n And fear not, fret not; for a thing too stern\n Hath met and crushed them!\n ","spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\n He holds of all most high, gives love and praise,\n And through the wild dark woods for ever strays,\n He and the Maid together, with swift hounds\n To slay all angry beasts from out these bounds,\n To more than mortal friendship consecrate!\n\n I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\n ","EN, WITH THEIR LEADER\n\n_The scene is laid in Trozên. The play was first acted when Epameinon\nwas Archon, Olympiad 87, year 4 (B.C. 429). Euripides was first,\nIophon second, Ion third._\n\n\n APHRODITE\n Great among men, and not unnamed am I,\n The Cyprian, in God's inmost halls on high.\n And wheresoe'er from Pontus to the far\n",",\n In thine own Dictynna's sea-wild eyes?\n Who in Limna here can find thee;\n For the Deep's dry floor is her easy way,\n And she moves in the salt wet whirl of the spray.\n\n _Other Women_\n Or doth the Lord of Erechtheus' race,\n Thy Theseus, watch for a fairer face,\n For secret arms in a silent place,\n Far from thy love or chiding?\n\n _Others_\n Or h","reveal thee.\"\n\n _All_\n Still my prayer toward thee quivers,\n Dircê, still to thee I hie me;\n Why, O Blessed among Rivers,\n Wilt thou fly me and deny me?\n By His own joy I vow,\n By the grape upon the bough,\n Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now!\n\n _Other Maidens_\n Dark and of the dark impassioned\n Is this Pentheus'","of!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\n\n THESEUS\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\n\n HIPPOLYTUS\n Ah me!\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\n\n ARTEMIS\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell;\\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have b\",\n \"! here comes he at the point of need.\\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n \",\n \" I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\\n Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way\\n Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.\\n\\n For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore\\n Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas\\n Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.\\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart\",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\\n\\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own\",\n \"polytus, shrink not from the King,\\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\\n Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,\\n Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.\\n And sure that Terror now is very near.\\n [_The cloud slowly rises and floats away_.]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear\\n Of soiling men! Thou wilt not g\",\n \"grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day,\\n If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!\\n I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n It may not be.--And more, I cast him out\\n From all my realms. He shall be held about\\n By two great do\",\n \"of human kind.\\n\\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\\n He holds\",\n \"ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than\",\n \". There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise\",\n \"HIPPOLYTUS\\n\\nOF EURIPIDES\\n\\n\\nDRAMATIS PERSONAE\\n\\n THE GODDESS APHRODITE\\n THESEUS, _King of Athens and Trozên_\\n PHAEDRA, _daughter of Minos, King of Crete, wife to Theseus_\\n HIPPOLYTUS, _bastard son of Theseus and the Amazon Hippolyte_\\n THE NURSE OF PHAEDRA\\n A HENCHMAN OF HIPPOLYTUS\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\",\n \", and decked the steeds, and combed each mane;\\n Weeping; for word had come that ne'er again\\n The foot of our Hippolytus should roam\\n This land, but waste in exile by thy doom.\\n So stood we till he came, and in his tone\\n No music now save sorrow's, like our own,\\n And in his train a concourse without end\\n Of many a chase-fellow and many a friend.\\n At last he brushed his sobs away, and spake:\\n \",\n \"\\n Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife;\\n And standeth here convicted by the dead,\\n A most black villain!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.]\\n Nay, hide not thine head!\\n Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain.\\n Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again!\\n Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect;\\n Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill\",\n \"!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\\n raises both arms to heaven._]\\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not\",\n \"On child and house of the evil falls like fire.\\n [_A throng is seen approaching;_ HIPPOLYTUS _enters,\\n supported by his attendants._]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n Lo, it is he! The bright young head\\n Yet upright there!\\n Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;\\n Alas for the kindred's trouble!\\n It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,\\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n \",\n \" To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most\",\n \"And see the steeds be groomed, and in array\\n The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day\\n [_He pauses, and makes a slight gesture of reverence to the Statue on\\n the left. Then to the_ OLD HUNTSMAN.]\\n That for thy Cyprian, friend, and nought beside!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _follows the huntsmen, who stream by the central door in\\n the Castle. The_ OLD HUNTSMAN _remains_.]\\n\\n HUNTS\",\n \"TUS\\n Surely: we are but fashioned on their frame.\\n\\n HUNTSMAN\\n Why then wilt thou be proud, and worship not ...\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Whom? If the name be speakable, speak out!\\n\\n HUNTSMAN\\n She stands here at thy gate: the Cyprian Queen!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I greet her from afar: my life is clean.\\n\\n HUNTSMAN\\n Clean? Nay, proud, proud; a mark for\",\n \"\\n Thy fault, O King, its ignorance sunders wide\\n From very wickedness; and she who died\\n By death the more disarmed thee, making dumb\\n The voice of question. And the storm has come\\n Most bitterly of all on thee! Yet I\\n Have mine own sorrow, too. When good men die,\\n There is no joy in heaven, albeit our ire\\n On child and house of the evil falls like fire.\\n [_A throng is seen approaching;_ HIPPOLYTUS _enters\"\n ],\n [\n \"we\\n That know the joy of white virginity,\\n Most hate in heaven. She sent her fire to run\\n In Phaedra's veins, so that she loved thy son.\\n Yet strove she long with love, and in the stress\\n Fell not, till by her Nurse's craftiness\\n Betrayed, who stole, with oaths of secrecy,\\n To entreat thy son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke\",\n \"eries.\\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn\\n With great love, by the working of my will.\\n And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill,\\n Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,\\n She built a shrine, and named it _Love-at-home_:\\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the\",\n \"st thou hear?--\\n And there: \\\"Betrayer of a master's bed.\\\"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\\n By her thou heldest dear,\\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where\",\n \"and praise thee in the Song\\n Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.\\n O seed of ancient Aegeus, bend thee now\\n And clasp thy son. Aye, hold and fear not thou!\\n Not knowingly hast thou slain him; and man's way,\\n When Gods send error, needs must fall astray.\\n And thou, Hippolytus, shrink not from the King,\\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\\n Farewell\",\n \"what ear to seek, what word to say!\\n\\n [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the\\n Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits\\n pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song,\\n when she rises and bends close to the door_.]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n\\n Erôs, Erôs, who blindest, tear by tear,\\n Men's eyes with hunger\",\n \"AEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him.\\n She turns upon her_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart\\n To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part?\\n Am I enough trod down?\\n May Zeus, my sire,\\n Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire!\\n Said\",\n \"RA (_musing_)\\n Die; but how die?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Let not such wild words fall!\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_)\\n Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be\\n To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me!\\n To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past\\n Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last.\\n Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane!\\n He shall not stand so proud where I have lain\\n Bent in\",\n \"PHAEDRA\\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraug\",\n \"To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\\n For thee and\",\n \"ful Love!\\n\\n [PHAEDRA _during this has risen from the couch and comes forward\\n collectedly. As she speaks the_ NURSE _gradually rouses herself,\\n and listens more calmly._]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n O Women, dwellers in this portal-seat\\n Of Pelops' land, gazing towards my Crete,\\n How oft, in other days than these, have I\\n Through night's long hours thought of man's misery,\\n And how this life is wrecked\",\n \"AEDRA\\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark\\n The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say\\n What thing hath come to thee?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_calmly_)\\n Why, what thing should it be?\\n The son of that proud Amazon speaks again\\n In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!\\n\\n\",\n \"'s fleet footfall!\\n Ye saw the heavens around her flare,\\n When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair\\n Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there\\n The Bride of the bladed Thunder.\\n For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air,\\n Bee-like, death-like, a wonder.\\n [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\\n and is listening_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\",\n \"ily,\\n O child of woman, life is well with thee!\\n\\n [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.]\\n\\n Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind,\\n Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind,\\n To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare:\\n A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there,\\n Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm,\\n And magic words. And I shall find the balm\",\n \"I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\\n\\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA\",\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \"weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A\",\n \"ea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake,\\n Honours most high in Trozên will I make;\\n For yokeless maids before their bridal night\\n Shall shear for thee their tresses; and a rite\\n Of honouring tears be thine in ceaseless store;\\n And virgin's thoughts in music evermore\\n Turn toward thee, and praise thee in the Song\\n Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.\\n O seed of ancient\",\n \"ed, what prophet knows\\n The power that holds thy curb, and throws\\n Thy swift heart from its race?\\n [_At these words PHAEDRA gradually recovers herself\\n and pays attention._]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n What have I said? Woe's me! And where\\n Gone straying from my wholesome mind?\\n What? Did I fall in some god's snare?\\n --Nurse, veil my head again, and blind\\n Mine eyes.--There is a tear behind\\n\",\n \"\\n NURSE\\n Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Least to his ear some word be whispered.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee!\\n --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea,\\n Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may,\\n Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say!\\n\\n [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to\",\n \".\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\\n\\n NURSE\\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\\n\\n NURSE (_to herself\"\n ],\n [\n \"weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A\",\n \"TUS\\n Surely: we are but fashioned on their frame.\\n\\n HUNTSMAN\\n Why then wilt thou be proud, and worship not ...\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Whom? If the name be speakable, speak out!\\n\\n HUNTSMAN\\n She stands here at thy gate: the Cyprian Queen!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I greet her from afar: my life is clean.\\n\\n HUNTSMAN\\n Clean? Nay, proud, proud; a mark for\",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell;\\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have b\",\n \"of!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah me!\\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc\",\n \" I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\\n Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way\\n Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.\\n\\n For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore\\n Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas\\n Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.\\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart\",\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ...\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\\n\\n NURSE\\n It is not meet\",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\\n\\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own\",\n \"of human kind.\\n\\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\\n He holds\",\n \"!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\\n raises both arms to heaven._]\\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not\",\n \". There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise\",\n \"IPPOLYTUS\\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\\n\\n NURSE\\n It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore.\\n\\n NURSE\\n O Son\",\n \"hesitate in spite of his fury._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own hand\\n Lift, if thou canst, to drive me from the land.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n That will I straight, unless my will be done!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _comes close to him and kneels._]\\n Nay! Not for thee my pity! Get thee gone!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away\",\n \"ed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--Aye, 'twas she.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is\",\n \", and to thee!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Alas!\",\n \"centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean,\\n What poison have I heard, what speechless sin!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ...\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?\\n\\n NURSE\\n \",\n \" To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most\",\n \"ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than\",\n \"On child and house of the evil falls like fire.\\n [_A throng is seen approaching;_ HIPPOLYTUS _enters,\\n supported by his attendants._]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n Lo, it is he! The bright young head\\n Yet upright there!\\n Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;\\n Alas for the kindred's trouble!\\n It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,\\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n \",\n \"! here comes he at the point of need.\\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n \",\n \"And see the steeds be groomed, and in array\\n The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day\\n [_He pauses, and makes a slight gesture of reverence to the Statue on\\n the left. Then to the_ OLD HUNTSMAN.]\\n That for thy Cyprian, friend, and nought beside!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _follows the huntsmen, who stream by the central door in\\n the Castle. The_ OLD HUNTSMAN _remains_.]\\n\\n HUNTS\"\n ],\n [\n \"some Men of the Chorus of Huntsmen_.]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n\\n _Men_\\n Surely the thought of the Gods hath balm in it alway, to win me\\n Far from my griefs; and a thought, deep in the dark of my mind,\\n Clings to a great Understanding. Yet all the spirit within me\\n Faints, when I watch men's deeds matched with the guerdon they find.\\n For Good comes in Evil's traces,\\n And the Evil the Good replaces;\\n\",\n \"\\n Of Pentheus racked in ruin fall?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Our God is in the house! Ye maids adore Him!\\n\\n CHORUS\\n We adore Him all!\\n\\n THE VOICE\\n Unveil the Lightning's eye; arouse\\n The fire that sleeps, against this house!\\n [_Fire leaps upon the Tomb of Semelê._]\\n\\n A MAIDEN\\n Ah, saw ye, marked ye there the flame\\n From Semelê's enh\",\n \"now wert sitting chained amid thy crew\\n Of raving damsels, for this evil dream\\n Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam\\n Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival,\\n In all their prayers is no more health at all!\\n\\n LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS)\\n Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God,\\n Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod,\\n Life-spring to great E\",\n \"His crown, and tread His dances! Aye,\\n Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod!\\n I will not lift mine arm to war with God\\n For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell\\n Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell,\\n But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured!\\n\\n CHORUS\\n Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word,\\n And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God.\\n\\n CAD\",\n \"since pain is there,\\n Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm,\\n And magic words. And I shall find the balm,\\n Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay\\n Were men, could not we women find our way!\\n\\n LEADER OF THE CHORUS\\n Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says,\\n To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise;\\n Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear\\n Than all her chiding was, and bitterer!\",\n \",\\n But as I see--blind words and a blind heart!\\n [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n\\n _Some Maidens_\\n Thou Immaculate on high;\\n Thou Recording Purity;\\n Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing,\\n Earthward, manward, pitying,\\n Hearest thou this angry King?\\n Hearest thou the rage and scorn\\n 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices,\\n Him of mortal mother born\",\n \"'s laws, and have no thought beyond His will,\\n Is man's best treasure. Aye, and wisdom true,\\n Methinks, for things of dust to cleave unto!\\n [_The_ MESSENGER _departs into the Castle_.]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n\\n _Some Maidens_\\n Weave ye the dance, and call\\n Praise to God!\\n Bless ye the Tyrant's fall!\\n Down is trod\\n Pentheus, the Dragon's Seed!\\n\",\n \"chambers, lest one day\\n The stones find voice, and all be finished!\\n Nay,\\n Friends, 'tis for this I die; lest I stand there\\n Having shamed my husband and the babes I bare.\\n In ancient Athens they shall some day dwell,\\n My babes, free men, free-spoken, honourable,\\n\\n EURIPIDES\\n And when one asks their mother, proud of me!\\n For, oh, it cows a man, though bold he be,\\n To know\",\n \"ê cometh! And her eyes\\n Make fire around her, reeling! Ho, the prize\\n Cometh! All hail, O Rout of Dionyse!\\n [_Enter from the Mountain_ AGAVE, _mad, and to all seeming wondrously\\n happy, bearing the head of_ PENTHEUS _in her hand. The_ CHORUS MAIDENS\\n _stand horror-struck at the sight; the_ LEADER, _also horror-struck,\\n strives to accept it and rejoice in it\",\n \"heart in froth\\n Of youth surges against thee, be not wroth\\n For ever! Nay, be far and hear not then:\\n Gods should be gentler and more wise than men!\\n [_He rises and follows the others into the Castle_.]\\n\\n _The Orchestra is empty for a moment, then there enter from right and\\n left several Trosenian women young and old. Their number eventually\\n amounts to fifteen._\\n\\n CHORUS\\n There riseth a rock-born river,\\n Of Ocean's tribe\",\n \"\\n Is it his mother?--and cry:\\n \\\"Lo, what is this that comes,\\n Haunting, troubling still,\\n Even in our heights, our homes,\\n The wild Maids of the Hill?\\n What flesh bare this child?\\n Never on woman's breast\\n Changeling so evil smiled;\\n Man is he not, but Beast!\\n Loin-shape of the wild,\\n Gorgon-breed of the waste!\\\"\\n\\n _All the Chorus_\\n Hither, for doom and\",\n \"What greatness have ye lost!\\n Woe, woe is me!\\n Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee!\\n\\n CHORUS\\n On all this folk, both low and high,\\n A grief hath fallen beyond men's fears.\\n There cometh a throbbing of many tears,\\n A sound as of waters falling.\\n For when great men die,\\n A mighty name and a bitter cry\\n Rise up from a nation calling.\\n [_They move into the Castle, carrying the body of_\",\n \"not from thee;\\n Blowing to beautiful things,\\n On, amid dark and light,\\n Till Life, through the trammellings\\n Of Laws that are not the Right,\\n Breaks, clean and pure, and sings\\n Glorying to God in the height!\\n\\n _All the Chorus_\\n Hither for doom and deed!\\n Hither with lifted sword,\\n Justice, Wrath of the Lord,\\n Come in our visible need!\\n Smite till the throat shall bleed,\\n Sm\",\n \" TWO MESSENGERS.\\n A CHORUS OF INSPIRED DAMSELS, _following Dionysus from the East_.\\n\\n_\\\"The play was first produced after the death of Euripides by his son who\\nbore the same name, together with the Iphigenia in Aulis and the Alcmaeon,\\nprobably in the year 405 B.C.\\\"_\\n\\n_The background represents the front of the Castle of_ PENTHEUS, _King of\\nThebes. At one side is visible the sacred\",\n \"On child and house of the evil falls like fire.\\n [_A throng is seen approaching;_ HIPPOLYTUS _enters,\\n supported by his attendants._]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n Lo, it is he! The bright young head\\n Yet upright there!\\n Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;\\n Alas for the kindred's trouble!\\n It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,\\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n \",\n \"wild,\\n Gorgon-breed of the waste!\\\"\\n\\n _All the Chorus_\\n Hither, for doom and deed!\\n Hither with lifted sword,\\n Justice, Wrath of the Lord,\\n Come in our visible need!\\n Smite till the throat shall bleed,\\n Smite till the heart shall bleed,\\n Him the tyrannous, lawless, Godless, Echîon's earthborn seed!\\n\\n _Other Maidens_\\n Tyrannously hath he tro\",\n \"and so lost?\\n Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late,\\n To that swift river that no life hath crossed.\\n No woman ever lived so desolate!\\n\\n LEADER OF THE CHORUS\\n Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast\\n Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost!\\n [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS\",\n \"Master, Master, it is Thou!\\n\\n ANOTHER\\n O Holy Voice, be with us now!\\n\\n THE VOICE\\n Spirit of the Chained Earthquake,\\n Hear my word; awake, awake!\\n [_An Earthquake suddenly shakes the pillars of the Castle._]\\n\\n A MAIDEN\\n Ha! what is coming? Shall the hall\\n Of Pentheus racked in ruin fall?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Our God is in the house! Ye maids adore Him\",\n \"of the Mountain! Gather all\\n Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall.\\n I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide\\n Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side.\\n\\n [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen\\n Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white\\n robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and\\n carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and\",\n \"CHORUS\\n\\n Erôs, Erôs, who blindest, tear by tear,\\n Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe\\n that pliest\\n Deep in our hearts joy like an edgèd spear;\\n Come not to me with Evil haunting near,\\n Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear\\n Wing's music as thou fliest!\\n There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire,\\n Not in wild stars, far off\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ...\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\\n\\n NURSE\\n It is not meet\",\n \"I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\\n\\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA\",\n \"and so lost?\\n Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late,\\n To that swift river that no life hath crossed.\\n No woman ever lived so desolate!\\n\\n LEADER OF THE CHORUS\\n Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast\\n Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost!\\n [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS\",\n \"centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean,\\n What poison have I heard, what speechless sin!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ...\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?\\n\\n NURSE\\n \",\n \"ath fallen on us!\\n\\n NURSE (_starting_)\\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...\\n\\n NURSE\\n Hippolytus, say'st thou?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_)\\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers\",\n \", in God's name!--Nay, leave me; loose my hand!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Never, until thou grant me what I pray.\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_yielding, after a pause_)\\n So be it. I dare not tear that hand away.\\n\\n NURSE (_rising and releasing PHAEDRA_)\\n Tell all thou wilt, Daughter. I speak no more.\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\\n\\n N\",\n \"\\n NURSE\\n Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Least to his ear some word be whispered.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee!\\n --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea,\\n Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may,\\n Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say!\\n\\n [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to\",\n \"woe than losing thee.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Yet the deed shall honour me.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Why hide what honours thee? 'Tis all I claim!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Why, so I build up honour out of shame!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Then speak, and higher still thy fame shall stand.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Go, in God's name!--Nay, leave me; loose my hand!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Never, until thou grant me what\",\n \"PHAEDRA\\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraug\",\n \" Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.\\n\\n NURSE (_suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet_)\\n Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_rising and trying to move away_)\\n What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my\",\n \"IPPOLYTUS\\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\\n\\n NURSE\\n It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore.\\n\\n NURSE\\n O Son\",\n \"AEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him.\\n She turns upon her_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart\\n To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part?\\n Am I enough trod down?\\n May Zeus, my sire,\\n Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire!\\n Said\",\n \"and sort thereof, 'twould like us well.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Small leechcraft have I, and she tells no man.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thou know'st no cause? Nor when the unrest began?\\n\\n NURSE\\n It all comes to the same. She will not speak.\\n\\n LEADER (_turning and looking at_ PHAEDRA).\\n How she is changed and wasted! And how weak!\\n\\n NURSE\\n 'Tis the third day she hath fasted utterly.\\n\\n\",\n \"that thou could'st tell what I must tell!\\n\\n NURSE\\n I am no seer in things I wot not of.\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_again hesitating_)\\n What is it that they mean, who say men...love?\\n\\n NURSE\\n A thing most sweet, my Child, yet dolorous.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Only the half, belike, hath fallen on us!\\n\\n NURSE (_starting_)\\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou\",\n \".\\n This man's whole being to one blade is wrought\\n Of rage against me. Even now he speeds\\n To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds;\\n Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin!\\n Cursèd be thou, and whoso else leaps in\\n To bring bad aid to friends that want it not.\\n [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA,\\n _downcast but calm_.]\\n\\n NURSE\\n Mistress,\",\n \"and I love thee; and I sought\\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\\n And found--not what I sought for. Else I were\\n Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.\\n So fares it with us all in the world's sight.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n First stab me to the heart, then humour me\\n With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\\n\\n NURSE\\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill;\",\n \"Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\\n\\n NURSE\\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh,\\n There is a way to save thee, even so!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod\\n Already, foul and false and loathed of god!\\n Begone out of my sight; and ponder how\\n Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.\\n [_She turns from the_ NURSE,\",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell;\\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have b\",\n \"To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\\n For thee and\",\n \"has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA,\\n _downcast but calm_.]\\n\\n NURSE\\n Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot\\n So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild,\\n I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child,\\n I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught.\\n I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought\\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\\n And found--not what I sought for.\"\n ],\n [\n \"st thou hear?--\\n And there: \\\"Betrayer of a master's bed.\\\"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\\n By her thou heldest dear,\\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where\",\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \" [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\\n and is listening_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\\n\\n LEADER\\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\\n\\n LEADER\\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, misery!\\n O God, that\",\n \"AEDRA\\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark\\n The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say\\n What thing hath come to thee?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_calmly_)\\n Why, what thing should it be?\\n The son of that proud Amazon speaks again\\n In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!\\n\\n\",\n \"_is heard from within, crying,\\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\\n\\n VOICE\\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\\n\\n A WOMAN\\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\\n\\n VOICE\\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\\n So fast! Will no one bring me a\",\n \"PHAEDRA\\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraug\",\n \"I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\\n\\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA\",\n \"evil-starred God's-messenger!\\n Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo\\n The bolts; and let me see the bitter view\\n Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own.\\n [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body\\n of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of\\n Handmaids, wailing_.]\\n\\n THE HANDMAIDS\\n Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done:\\n A\",\n \", in God's name!--Nay, leave me; loose my hand!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Never, until thou grant me what I pray.\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_yielding, after a pause_)\\n So be it. I dare not tear that hand away.\\n\\n NURSE (_rising and releasing PHAEDRA_)\\n Tell all thou wilt, Daughter. I speak no more.\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\\n\\n N\",\n \"the deeps below are unrevealed,\\n And we drift on legends for ever!\\n [PHAEDRA _during this has been laid on her couch;\\n she speaks to the handmaids_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Yes; lift me: not my head so low.\\n There, hold my arms.--Fair arms they seem!--\\n My poor limbs scarce obey me now!\\n Take off that hood that weighs my brow,\\n And let my long hair stream.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Nay,\",\n \"Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still?\\n Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame,\\n Or let me cry for ever on their shame!\\n [_He goes off in fury to the left_.\\n PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state.\\n What shelter now is left or guard?\\n What spell to loose the iron knot of fate?\\n And this thing, O my God,\",\n \"LEADER\\n By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear,\\n No word will I of these thy griefs reveal!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel\\n And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is,\\n I clutch at in this coil of miseries;\\n To save some honour for my children's sake;\\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\\n The old\",\n \"I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, misery!\\n O God, that such a thing should fall on me!\\n\\n LEADER\\n What sound, what word,\\n O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start\\n Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard\\n Hath leapt upon thine heart?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks\",\n \"ath fallen on us!\\n\\n NURSE (_starting_)\\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...\\n\\n NURSE\\n Hippolytus, say'st thou?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_)\\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers\",\n \"To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\\n For thee and\",\n \" Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.\\n\\n NURSE (_suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet_)\\n Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_rising and trying to move away_)\\n What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my\",\n \"RA (_musing_)\\n Die; but how die?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Let not such wild words fall!\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_)\\n Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be\\n To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me!\\n To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past\\n Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last.\\n Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane!\\n He shall not stand so proud where I have lain\\n Bent in\",\n \".\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\\n\\n NURSE\\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\\n\\n NURSE (_to herself\",\n \"what thing should it be?\\n The son of that proud Amazon speaks again\\n In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!\\n\\n LEADER\\n I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear.\\n For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks\\n Floating, at thy heart it knocks.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n \\\"Pander of Sin\\\" it says.--Now canst thou hear?--\\n And there: \\\"Betrayer of a master's bed.\\\"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Ah me, bet\",\n \";\\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\\n The old proud Cretan castle whence I came,\\n I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes,\\n Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice!\\n\\n LEADER\\n What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_musing_)\\n Die; but how die?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Let not such wild words fall!\\n\\n PHA\"\n ],\n [\n \"And see the steeds be groomed, and in array\\n The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day\\n [_He pauses, and makes a slight gesture of reverence to the Statue on\\n the left. Then to the_ OLD HUNTSMAN.]\\n That for thy Cyprian, friend, and nought beside!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _follows the huntsmen, who stream by the central door in\\n the Castle. The_ OLD HUNTSMAN _remains_.]\\n\\n HUNTS\",\n \" To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most\",\n \"!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\\n raises both arms to heaven._]\\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not\",\n \".\\n The whole land held his voice, and answering\\n Roared in each echo. And all we, gazing there,\\n Gazed seeing not; 'twas more than eyes could bear.\\n Then straight upon the team wild terror fell.\\n Howbeit, the Prince, cool-eyed and knowing well\\n Each changing mood a horse has, gripped the reins\\n Hard in both hands; then as an oarsman strains\\n Up from his bench, so strained he on the thong,\\n Back in the chariot swinging. But the young\\n\",\n \"as fire from a God's hand sped,\\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah, pain, pain, pain!\\n O unrighteous curse! O unrighteous sire!\\n No hope.--My head is stabbed with fire,\\n And a leaping spasm about my brain.\\n Stay, let me rest. I can no more.\\n O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed,\\n Have ye maimed me and slain, that loved me of yore?\\n\",\n \"polytus, shrink not from the King,\\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\\n Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,\\n Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.\\n And sure that Terror now is very near.\\n [_The cloud slowly rises and floats away_.]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear\\n Of soiling men! Thou wilt not g\",\n \"slain.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\\n I called thee Father; thou hast heard my prayer!\\n How did he die? Speak on. How closed the snare\\n Of Heaven to slay the shamer of my blood?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n 'Twas by the bank of beating sea we stood,\\n We thralls, and decked the steeds, and combed each mane;\\n Weeping; for word had come that ne'er again\\n The\",\n \"thou false\\n Curse of my Father!--Help! Help, whoso can,\\n An innocent, innocent and stainless man!\\\"\\n Many there were that laboured then, I wot,\\n To bear him succour, but could reach him not,\\n Till--who knows how?--at last the tangled rein\\n Unclasped him, and he fell, some little vein\\n Of life still pulsing in him.\\n All beside,\\n The steeds, the hornèd Horror of the Tide,\\n Had vanished\",\n \"we made our way\\n Up toward the desert region, where the bay\\n Curls to a promontory near the verge\\n Of our Trozên, facing the southward surge\\n Of Saron's gulf. Just there an angry sound,\\n Slow-swelling, like God's thunder underground\\n Broke on us, and we trembled. And the steeds\\n Pricked their ears skyward, and threw back their heads.\\n And wonder came on all men, and affright,\\n Whence rose that awful voice. And swift our\",\n \", and turned again\\n The four great coursers, terror-mad. But when\\n Their blind rage drove them toward the rocky places,\\n Silent and ever nearer to the traces,\\n It followed rockward, till one wheel-edge grazed.\\n The chariot tript and flew, and all was mazed\\n In turmoil. Up went wheel-box with a din,\\n Where the rock jagged, and nave and axle-pin.\\n And there--the long reins round him--there was he\\n Dragging, entangled\",\n \"reign in darkness like me not.\\n\\n HUNTSMAN\\n What the Gods ask, O Son, that man must pay!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_turning from him to the others_).\\n On, huntsmen, to the Castle! Make your way\\n Straight to the feast room; 'tis a merry thing\\n After the chase, a board of banqueting.\\n And see the steeds be groomed, and in array\\n The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day\\n [_He\",\n \"On child and house of the evil falls like fire.\\n [_A throng is seen approaching;_ HIPPOLYTUS _enters,\\n supported by his attendants._]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n Lo, it is he! The bright young head\\n Yet upright there!\\n Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;\\n Alas for the kindred's trouble!\\n It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,\\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n \",\n \". There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise\",\n \"O Artemis, that I were there\\n To tame Enetian steeds and steer\\n Swift chariots in the ring!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Nay, mountainward but now thy hands\\n Yearned out, with craving for the chase;\\n And now toward the unseaswept sands\\n Thou roamest, where the coursers pace!\\n O wild young steed, what prophet knows\\n The power that holds thy curb, and throws\\n Thy swift heart from its race?\\n [_\",\n \" I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\\n Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way\\n Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.\\n\\n For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore\\n Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas\\n Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.\\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart\",\n \"this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\\n Curse of thy lips.\\n The boon of thy great Sire\\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\\n I called thee\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\",\n \"mus hidden, then the rock\\n Of Epidaurus. Then it broke, one shock\\n And roar of gasping sea and spray flung far,\\n And shoreward swept, where stood the Prince's car.\\n Three lines of wave together raced, and, full\\n In the white crest of them, a wild Sea-Bull\\n Flung to the shore, a fell and marvellous Thing.\\n The whole land held his voice, and answering\\n Roared in each echo. And all we, gazing there,\\n Gazed\",\n \"! here comes he at the point of need.\\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n \",\n \"SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"of!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah me!\\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc\",\n \". There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise\",\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \" Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood\\n That makes me marvel! By my faith, wert thou\\n The son, and I the sire; and deemed I now\\n In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed,\\n I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed,\\n But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so\",\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n \",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell;\\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have b\",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\\n\\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own\",\n \"!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\\n raises both arms to heaven._]\\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not\",\n \"SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\\n \",\n \", and to thee!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Alas!\",\n \"thy child in misery.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, bring him hither. Let me see the face\\n Of him who durst deny my deep disgrace\\n And his own sin; yea, speak with him, and prove\\n His clear guilt by God's judgments from above.\\n [_The_ HENCHMAN _departs to fetch_ HIPPOLYTUS; THESEUS _sits waiting in\\n stern gloom, while the_ CHORUS _sing. At the close of their song a\\n Divine Figure\",\n \"! Yet here\\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Alas!\\n Would I could stand and watch this thing, and see\\n My face, and weep for very pity of me!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Full of thyself, as ever! Not a thought\\n For them that gave thee birth; nay, they are naught!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\\n May none I love e'\",\n \"ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than\",\n \"hesitate in spite of his fury._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own hand\\n Lift, if thou canst, to drive me from the land.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n That will I straight, unless my will be done!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _comes close to him and kneels._]\\n Nay! Not for thee my pity! Get thee gone!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away\",\n \"grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day,\\n If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!\\n I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n It may not be.--And more, I cast him out\\n From all my realms. He shall be held about\\n By two great do\",\n \"ed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--Aye, 'twas she.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is\",\n \" To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most\",\n \"this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\\n Curse of thy lips.\\n The boon of thy great Sire\\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\\n I called thee\",\n \"eyes;\\n It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!\\n\\n THESEUS (_supporting him in his arms_)\\n Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THE\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\"\n ],\n [\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell;\\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have b\",\n \". There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise\",\n \"eyes;\\n It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!\\n\\n THESEUS (_supporting him in his arms_)\\n Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THE\",\n \"of!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah me!\\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc\",\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n \",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\\n\\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own\",\n \"ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than\",\n \" But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\\n\\n\",\n \"SEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death...\\n Quick, Father; lay the mantle on my face.\\n [THESEUS _covers his face with a mantle and rises._]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race,\\n What greatness have ye lost!\\n Woe, woe is me!\\n Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\",\n \", and to thee!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Alas!\",\n \" To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most\",\n \"hesitate in spite of his fury._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own hand\\n Lift, if thou canst, to drive me from the land.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n That will I straight, unless my will be done!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _comes close to him and kneels._]\\n Nay! Not for thee my pity! Get thee gone!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away\",\n \"e my pity! Get thee gone!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away._\\n THESEUS, _as soon as he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters the\\n Castle. The door is closed again._ HIPPOLYTUS _has stopped for a\\n moment before the Statue of _ARTEMIS, _and, as _THESEUS_ departs,\\n breaks out in prayer._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n So; it is done! O dark\",\n \"weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A\",\n \"! Yet here\\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Alas!\\n Would I could stand and watch this thing, and see\\n My face, and weep for very pity of me!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Full of thyself, as ever! Not a thought\\n For them that gave thee birth; nay, they are naught!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\\n May none I love e'\",\n \"? Drive me from thy sight unheard?\\n\\n THESEUS\\n This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot\\n To speak from, tells me all. I ponder not\\n Thy fowls that fly above us! Let them fly.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O ye great Gods, wherefore unlock not I\\n My lips, ere yet ye have slain me utterly,\\n Ye whom I love most? No. It may not be!\\n The one heart that I need I ne'er should gain\\n To\",\n \"polytus, shrink not from the King,\\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\\n Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,\\n Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.\\n And sure that Terror now is very near.\\n [_The cloud slowly rises and floats away_.]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear\\n Of soiling men! Thou wilt not g\",\n \"as fire from a God's hand sped,\\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah, pain, pain, pain!\\n O unrighteous curse! O unrighteous sire!\\n No hope.--My head is stabbed with fire,\\n And a leaping spasm about my brain.\\n Stay, let me rest. I can no more.\\n O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed,\\n Have ye maimed me and slain, that loved me of yore?\\n\",\n \"! here comes he at the point of need.\\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \",\\n (Alas for the day!)\\n Was he naught, then, to you,\\n That ye cast him away,\\n The stainless and true,\\n From the old happy places?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Look yonder! 'Tis the Prince's man, I ween\\n Speeding toward this gate, most dark of mien.\\n [A HENCHMAN _enters in haste_.]\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\\n King Theseus? Is he in this\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\",\n \"there. The rumour is\\n She cometh fleet-foot hither.--Ah! 'Tis true;\\n A sight I scarce can bend mine eyes unto.\\n\\n AGAVE (_turning from the Palace and seeing him_)\\n My father, a great boast is thine this hour.\\n Thou hast begotten daughters, high in power\\n And valiant above all mankind--yea, all\\n Valiant, though none like me! I have let fall\\n The shuttle by the loom, and raised my hand\\n For\",\n \"te_.]\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\\n King Theseus? Is he in this dwelling? Speak!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Lo, where he cometh through the Castle gate!\\n [THESEUS _comes out from the Castle_.]\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n O King, I bear thee tidings of dire weight\\n To thee, aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n \",\n \"What greatness have ye lost!\\n Woe, woe is me!\\n Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee!\\n\\n CHORUS\\n On all this folk, both low and high,\\n A grief hath fallen beyond men's fears.\\n There cometh a throbbing of many tears,\\n A sound as of waters falling.\\n For when great men die,\\n A mighty name and a bitter cry\\n Rise up from a nation calling.\\n [_They move into the Castle, carrying the body of_\",\n \"that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.\\n 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run\\n Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.\\n What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?\\n [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]\\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\\n Why art thou silent\",\n \"Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear\\n Of soiling men! Thou wilt not grieve in heaven\\n For my long love! ...Father, thou art forgiven.\\n It was Her will. I am not wroth with thee...\\n I have obeyed Her all my days! ...\\n Ah me,\\n The dark is drawing down upon mine eyes;\\n It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!\\n\\n THESEUS (_supporting him in his\",\n \"elling-place between\\n The roofless rocks and shadowy pine trees green.\\n Thus shall this Thebes, how sore soe'er it smart,\\n Learn and forget not, till she crave her part\\n In mine adoring; thus must I speak clear\\n To save my mother's fame, and crown me here,\\n As true God, born by Semelê to Zeus.\\n\\n Now Cadmus yieldeth up his throne and use\\n Of royal honour to his daughter's son\\n Pentheus; who on my body hath begun\\n\",\n \"Castle, have not noticed\\n the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the\\n garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or\\n special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim\\n Within the house? The vassals' outcry came\\n To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet\\n To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet\\n With a\",\n \"\\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\\n\\n LEADER\\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou?\",\n \"\\n Take off that hood that weighs my brow,\\n And let my long hair stream.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Nay, toss not, Child, so feveredly.\\n The sickness best will win relief\\n By quiet rest and constancy.\\n All men have grief.\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_not noticing her_)\\n Oh for a deep and dewy spring,\\n With runlets cold to draw and drink!\\n And a great meadow blossoming,\\n Long-grassed, and poplars in a ring,\",\n \" TWO MESSENGERS.\\n A CHORUS OF INSPIRED DAMSELS, _following Dionysus from the East_.\\n\\n_\\\"The play was first produced after the death of Euripides by his son who\\nbore the same name, together with the Iphigenia in Aulis and the Alcmaeon,\\nprobably in the year 405 B.C.\\\"_\\n\\n_The background represents the front of the Castle of_ PENTHEUS, _King of\\nThebes. At one side is visible the sacred\",\n \" But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\\n\\n\",\n \"place apart, inviolate,\\n His daughter's sanctuary; and I have set\\n My green and clustered vines to robe it round\\n Far now behind me lies the golden ground\\n Of Lydian and of Phrygian; far away\\n The wide hot plains where Persian sunbeams play,\\n The Bactrian war-holds, and the storm-oppressed\\n Clime of the Mede, and Araby the Blest,\\n And Asia all, that by the salt sea lies\\n In proud embattled cities,\",\n \"in, nor yet disgrace.\\n Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers?\\n\\n PENTHEUS\\n Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers.\\n\\n DIONYSUS\\n Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland.\\n\\n PENTHEUS\\n And whence these revelations, that thy band\\n Spreadeth in Hellas?\\n\\n DIONYSUS\\n Their intent and use\\n Dionysus oped to me, the\",\n \"\\n To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet\\n To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet\\n With a joy held from God's Presence!\\n [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him.\\n A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.]\\n\\n How?\\n Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow?\\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\\n [_\",\n \"_is heard from within, crying,\\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\\n\\n VOICE\\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\\n\\n A WOMAN\\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\\n\\n VOICE\\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\\n So fast! Will no one bring me a\",\n \"ath.\\n But soft, methinks a footstep sounds even now within the hall;\\n 'Tis he; how think ye he will stand, and what words speak withal?\\n I will endure him gently, though he come in fury hot.\\n For still are the ways of Wisdom, and her temper trembleth not!\\n [_Enter_ PENTHEUS _in fury_]\\n\\n PENTHEUS\\n It is too much! This Eastern knave hath slipped\\n His prison, whom I held but now, hard gripped\\n\",\n \", and to thee!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Alas!\",\n \"! here comes he at the point of need.\\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \":\\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day\\n When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,\\n Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,\\n Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên.\\n And here that grievous and amazed Queen,\\n Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\\n Nor dreamed\",\n \"SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\\n \",\n \",\\n (Alas for the day!)\\n Was he naught, then, to you,\\n That ye cast him away,\\n The stainless and true,\\n From the old happy places?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Look yonder! 'Tis the Prince's man, I ween\\n Speeding toward this gate, most dark of mien.\\n [A HENCHMAN _enters in haste_.]\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\\n King Theseus? Is he in this\",\n \"\\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\\n\\n LEADER\\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou?\",\n \" What brought this blackness over all thy life?\\n [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ah me, this is the last\\n --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest\\n Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest,\\n How hath thine heavy heel across me passed!\\n Is it the stain of sins done long ago,\\n Some fell God still remembereth,\\n That must so dim and fret my life with death?\\n I cannot win\",\n \"it, who could speak of it?\\n\\n LEADER\\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\\n\\n LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it\",\n \"! here comes he at the point of need.\\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n \",\n \"that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.\\n 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run\\n Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.\\n What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?\\n [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]\\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\\n Why art thou silent\",\n \"e from this land\\n To exile with all speed. Come never more\\n To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore\\n Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong!\\n What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong,\\n And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so\\n Will bear men witness that I laid him low,\\n Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey,\\n Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Al\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\",\n \"te_.]\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\\n King Theseus? Is he in this dwelling? Speak!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Lo, where he cometh through the Castle gate!\\n [THESEUS _comes out from the Castle_.]\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n O King, I bear thee tidings of dire weight\\n To thee, aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n \",\n \"this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\\n Curse of thy lips.\\n The boon of thy great Sire\\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\\n I called thee\",\n \" Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood\\n That makes me marvel! By my faith, wert thou\\n The son, and I the sire; and deemed I now\\n In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed,\\n I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed,\\n But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so\",\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \"TUS\\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, if I could, past Pontus, and the red\\n Atlantic marge! So do I hate thine head.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Wilt weigh nor oath nor faith nor prophet's word\\n To prove me? Drive me from thy sight unheard?\\n\\n THESEUS\\n This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot\\n \",\n \"turn me? Think. To what friend's door\\n Betake me, banished on a charge so sore?\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Whoso delights to welcome to his hall\\n Vile ravishers ... to guard his hearth withal!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Thou seekst my heart, my tears? Aye, let it be\\n Thus! I am vile to all men, and to thee!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\\n Ere thou didst\",\n \"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou? What? My wife? ...\\n Say how she died.\\n LEADER\\n In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all--\\n That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall?\\n\\n LEADER\\n We know no more. But now arrived we be,\\n Theseus, to mourn\",\n \"LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;\\n This deadly word,\\n That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,\\n Yet will not stay unheard.\\n [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]\\n Ho, hearken all this land!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my\",\n \"are forgot!\\n Alas! this misery!\\n Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled\\n From age to age on me,\\n For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one,\\n A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Deep, deep beneath the Earth,\\n Dark may my dwelling be,\\n And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth,\\n \",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\\n\\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own\"\n ],\n [\n \"weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A\",\n \"eries.\\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn\\n With great love, by the working of my will.\\n And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill,\\n Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,\\n She built a shrine, and named it _Love-at-home_:\\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the\",\n \"_sits waiting in\\n stern gloom, while the_ CHORUS _sing. At the close of their song a\\n Divine Figure is seen approaching on a cloud in the air and the voice\\n of_ ARTEMIS _speaks_.]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n Thou comest to bend the pride\\n Of the hearts of God and man,\\n Cypris; and by thy side,\\n In earth-encircling span,\\n He of the changing plumes,\\n The Wing that the world illumes,\\n As over\",\n \"there\\n High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer\\n To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse,\\n Whate'er he be!--And in their companies\\n Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon\\n Away into the loneliness now one\\n Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame\\n Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame\\n They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay,\\n 'Tis more to Aph\",\n \". Then in us verily dwells\\n The God himself, and speaks the thing to be.\\n Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he.\\n When mortal armies, mailêd and arrayed,\\n Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade,\\n Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them.\\n Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem\\n Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train\\n Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-\",\n \".\\n Thou lovest. Is that so strange? Many there be\\n Beside thee! ... And because thou lovest, wilt fall\\n And die! And must all lovers die, then? All\\n That are or shall be? A blithe law for them!\\n Nay, when in might she swoops, no strength can stem\\n Cypris; and if man yields him, she is sweet;\\n But is he proud and stubborn? From his feet\\n She lifts him, and--how think you?--flings to scorn!\",\n \", cowering in the leaves. And there\\n Through the appointed hour they made their prayer\\n And worship of the Wand, with one accord\\n Of heart and cry--\\\"Iacchos, Bromios, Lord,\\n God of God born!\\\"--And all the mountain felt,\\n And worshipped with them; and the wild things knelt\\n And ramped and gloried, and the wilderness\\n Was filled with moving voices and dim stress.\\n Soon, as it chanced, beside my thicket-close\\n The Queen herself passed dancing, and I\",\n \"en and recovered herself_)\\n Mistress, a sharp swift terror struck me low\\n A moment since, hearing of this thy woe.\\n But now--I was a coward! And men say\\n Our second thought the wiser is alway.\\n This is no monstrous thing; no grief too dire\\n To meet with quiet thinking. In her ire\\n A most strong goddess hath swept down on thee.\\n Thou lovest. Is that so strange? Many there be\\n Beside thee! ... And because thou lovest, wilt\",\n \"of human kind.\\n\\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\\n He holds\",\n \" Sleeping they lay, like wild things flung at ease\\n In the forest; one half sinking on a bed\\n Of deep pine greenery; one with careless head\\n Amid the fallen oak leaves; all most cold\\n In purity--not as thy tale was told\\n Of wine-cups and wild music and the chase\\n For love amid the forest's loneliness.\\n Then rose the Queen Agâvê suddenly\\n Amid her band, and gave the God's wild cry,\\n \\\"Awake, ye Bac\",\n \"that is wild and young\\n In mountain and wave and stream,\\n All that of earth is sprung,\\n Or breathes in the red sunbeam;\\n Yea, and Mankind. O'er all a royal throne,\\n Cyprian, Cyprian, is thine alone!\\n\\n A VOICE FROM THE CLOUD\\n O thou that rulest in Aegeus' Hall,\\n I charge thee, hearken!\\n Yea, it is I,\\n Artemis, Virgin of God most High\",\n \"ly fragrance! Though my pain\\n Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.\\n The Goddess Artemis is with me here.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or\",\n \"God, against the Thunder?\\n He will bind me for his prize,\\n Me, the Bride of Dionyse;\\n And my priest, my friend, is taken\\n Even now, and buried lies;\\n In the dark he lies forsaken!\\n\\n _All_\\n Lo, we race with death, we perish,\\n Dionysus, here before thee!\\n Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish,\\n Who implore thee, and adore thee?\\n Hither down Olympus' side\",\n \"_She suddenly sees the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _and\\n stands with her eyes riveted upon it._]\\n Ah, Cyprian! No god art thou,\\n But more than god, and greater, that hath thrust\\n Me and my queen and all our house to dust!\\n [_She throws herself on the ground close to the statue._]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n\\n _Some Women_\\n O Women, have ye heard? Nay, dare ye hear\\n The desolate cry of the young Queen's misery?\\n\",\n \"great Love's brethren are all we on earth!\\n Nay, they who con grey books of ancient days\\n Or dwell among the Muses, tell--and praise--\\n How Zeus himself once yearned for Semelê;\\n How maiden Eôs in her radiancy\\n Swept Kephalos to heaven away, away,\\n For sore love's sake. And there they dwell, men say,\\n And fear not, fret not; for a thing too stern\\n Hath met and crushed them!\\n \",\n \"spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\\n He holds of all most high, gives love and praise,\\n And through the wild dark woods for ever strays,\\n He and the Maid together, with swift hounds\\n To slay all angry beasts from out these bounds,\\n To more than mortal friendship consecrate!\\n\\n I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\\n \",\n \"EN, WITH THEIR LEADER\\n\\n_The scene is laid in Trozên. The play was first acted when Epameinon\\nwas Archon, Olympiad 87, year 4 (B.C. 429). Euripides was first,\\nIophon second, Ion third._\\n\\n\\n APHRODITE\\n Great among men, and not unnamed am I,\\n The Cyprian, in God's inmost halls on high.\\n And wheresoe'er from Pontus to the far\\n\",\n \",\\n In thine own Dictynna's sea-wild eyes?\\n Who in Limna here can find thee;\\n For the Deep's dry floor is her easy way,\\n And she moves in the salt wet whirl of the spray.\\n\\n _Other Women_\\n Or doth the Lord of Erechtheus' race,\\n Thy Theseus, watch for a fairer face,\\n For secret arms in a silent place,\\n Far from thy love or chiding?\\n\\n _Others_\\n Or h\",\n \"reveal thee.\\\"\\n\\n _All_\\n Still my prayer toward thee quivers,\\n Dircê, still to thee I hie me;\\n Why, O Blessed among Rivers,\\n Wilt thou fly me and deny me?\\n By His own joy I vow,\\n By the grape upon the bough,\\n Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now!\\n\\n _Other Maidens_\\n Dark and of the dark impassioned\\n Is this Pentheus'\",\n \"of!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah me!\\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc\"\n ],\n [\n \"IPPOLYTUS\\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\\n\\n NURSE\\n It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore.\\n\\n NURSE\\n O Son\",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell;\\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have b\",\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ...\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\\n\\n NURSE\\n It is not meet\",\n \"of human kind.\\n\\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\\n He holds\",\n \". There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise\",\n \"YTUS\\n 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore.\\n\\n NURSE\\n O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin?\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I own no kindred with the spawn of sin!\\n [_He flings her from him_.]\\n\\n NURSE\\n Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming sn\",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\\n\\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own\",\n \"when in her was no right;\\n And Right I follow to mine own despite!\\n\\n LEADER\\n It is enough! God's name is witness large,\\n And thy great oath, to assoil thee of this charge,\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Is not the man a juggler and a mage,\\n Cool wits and one right oath--what more?--to assuage\\n Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father,\",\n \" I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\\n Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way\\n Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.\\n\\n For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore\\n Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas\\n Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.\\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart\",\n \"weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A\",\n \"of!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah me!\\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc\",\n \"grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day,\\n If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!\\n I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n It may not be.--And more, I cast him out\\n From all my realms. He shall be held about\\n By two great do\",\n \"\\n Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife;\\n And standeth here convicted by the dead,\\n A most black villain!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.]\\n Nay, hide not thine head!\\n Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain.\\n Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again!\\n Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect;\\n Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill\",\n \"!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\\n raises both arms to heaven._]\\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not\",\n \", and to thee!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Alas!\",\n \";\\n Hear, O most virginal,\\n Hear, O most fair of all,\\n In high God's golden dome.\\n\\n [_The huntsmen have gathered about the altar of_ ARTEMIS.\\n HIPPOLYTUS _now advances from them, and approaches the Statue\\n with a wreath in his hand._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n To thee this wreathed garland, from a green\\n And virgin meadow bear I, O my Queen,\\n Where\",\n \" To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most\",\n \"? Drive me from thy sight unheard?\\n\\n THESEUS\\n This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot\\n To speak from, tells me all. I ponder not\\n Thy fowls that fly above us! Let them fly.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O ye great Gods, wherefore unlock not I\\n My lips, ere yet ye have slain me utterly,\\n Ye whom I love most? No. It may not be!\\n The one heart that I need I ne'er should gain\\n To\",\n \" But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"PHAEDRA\\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraug\",\n \"and sort thereof, 'twould like us well.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Small leechcraft have I, and she tells no man.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thou know'st no cause? Nor when the unrest began?\\n\\n NURSE\\n It all comes to the same. She will not speak.\\n\\n LEADER (_turning and looking at_ PHAEDRA).\\n How she is changed and wasted! And how weak!\\n\\n NURSE\\n 'Tis the third day she hath fasted utterly.\\n\\n\",\n \" PHAEDRA _to lie upon_.]\\n\\n NURSE\\n O sick and sore are the days of men!\\n What wouldst thou? What shall I change again\\n Here is the Sun for thee; here is the sky;\\n And thy weary pillows wind-swept lie,\\n By the castle door.\\n But the cloud of thy brow is dark, I ween;\\n And soon thou wilt back to thy bower within:\\n So swift to change is the path of thy feet,\\n And near things hateful\",\n \"st thou hear?--\\n And there: \\\"Betrayer of a master's bed.\\\"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\\n By her thou heldest dear,\\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where\",\n \"\\n Be kindlier, and unlock that prisoned brow.\\n And I, who followed then the wrong road, now\\n Will leave it and be wiser. If thou fear\\n Some secret sickness, there be women here\\n To give thee comfort. [PHAEDRA _shakes her head_.\\n No; not secret? Then\\n Is it a sickness meet for aid of men?\\n Speak, that a leech may tend thee.\\n Silent still?\\n Nay, Child, what profits silence? If 'tis ill\",\n \" [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\\n and is listening_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\\n\\n LEADER\\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\\n\\n LEADER\\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, misery!\\n O God, that\",\n \"ily,\\n O child of woman, life is well with thee!\\n\\n [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.]\\n\\n Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind,\\n Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind,\\n To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare:\\n A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there,\\n Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm,\\n And magic words. And I shall find the balm\",\n \"yore\\n With the Queen. Doth she lead her hither\\n To the wind and sun?--Ah, fain would I know\\n What strange betiding hath blanched that brow\\n And made that young life wither.\\n [_The NURSE comes out from the central door followed by_ PHAEDRA,\\n _who is supported by two handmaids. They make ready a couch for_\\n PHAEDRA _to lie upon_.]\\n\\n NURSE\\n O sick and sore are the days of men!\\n What\",\n \"and I love thee; and I sought\\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\\n And found--not what I sought for. Else I were\\n Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.\\n So fares it with us all in the world's sight.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n First stab me to the heart, then humour me\\n With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\\n\\n NURSE\\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill;\",\n \"the deeps below are unrevealed,\\n And we drift on legends for ever!\\n [PHAEDRA _during this has been laid on her couch;\\n she speaks to the handmaids_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Yes; lift me: not my head so low.\\n There, hold my arms.--Fair arms they seem!--\\n My poor limbs scarce obey me now!\\n Take off that hood that weighs my brow,\\n And let my long hair stream.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Nay,\",\n \"\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\\n\\n NURSE (_to herself_)\\n I am all lost and feared. What will she say?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n From there my grief comes, not from yesterday.\\n\\n NURSE\\n I come no nearer to thy parable.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, would that thou could'st tell what I must tell!\\n\\n NURSE\\n I am no seer in things I wot not of.\",\n \"_is heard from within, crying,\\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\\n\\n VOICE\\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\\n\\n A WOMAN\\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\\n\\n VOICE\\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\\n So fast! Will no one bring me a\",\n \"has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA,\\n _downcast but calm_.]\\n\\n NURSE\\n Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot\\n So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild,\\n I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child,\\n I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught.\\n I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought\\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\\n And found--not what I sought for.\",\n \".\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\\n\\n NURSE\\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\\n\\n NURSE (_to herself\",\n \"Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\\n\\n NURSE\\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh,\\n There is a way to save thee, even so!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod\\n Already, foul and false and loathed of god!\\n Begone out of my sight; and ponder how\\n Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.\\n [_She turns from the_ NURSE,\",\n \"il_)\\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers her face again.\\n The_ NURSE _starts violently from her and walks up and down._]\\n\\n NURSE\\n O God! what wilt thou say, Child? Wouldst thou try\\n To kill me?--Oh, 'tis more than I can bear;\\n Women. I will no more of it, this glare\\n Of hated day, this shining of the sky.\\n I will\",\n \"I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, misery!\\n O God, that such a thing should fall on me!\\n\\n LEADER\\n What sound, what word,\\n O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start\\n Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard\\n Hath leapt upon thine heart?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks\",\n \"I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\\n\\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA\",\n \"dim,\\n And rest upon earth comes never.\\n But if any far-off state there be,\\n Dearer than life to mortality;\\n The hand of the Dark hath hold thereof,\\n And mist is under and mist above.\\n And so we are sick of life, and cling\\n On earth to this nameless and shining thing.\\n For other life is a fountain sealed,\\n And the deeps below are unrevealed,\\n And we drift on legends for ever!\\n [PHAEDRA _during this has\",\n \"ful Love!\\n\\n [PHAEDRA _during this has risen from the couch and comes forward\\n collectedly. As she speaks the_ NURSE _gradually rouses herself,\\n and listens more calmly._]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n O Women, dwellers in this portal-seat\\n Of Pelops' land, gazing towards my Crete,\\n How oft, in other days than these, have I\\n Through night's long hours thought of man's misery,\\n And how this life is wrecked\"\n ],\n [\n \"_is heard from within, crying,\\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\\n\\n VOICE\\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\\n\\n A WOMAN\\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\\n\\n VOICE\\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\\n So fast! Will no one bring me a\",\n \"I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\\n\\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA\",\n \";\\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\\n The old proud Cretan castle whence I came,\\n I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes,\\n Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice!\\n\\n LEADER\\n What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_musing_)\\n Die; but how die?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Let not such wild words fall!\\n\\n PHA\",\n \"RA (_musing_)\\n Die; but how die?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Let not such wild words fall!\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_)\\n Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be\\n To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me!\\n To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past\\n Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last.\\n Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane!\\n He shall not stand so proud where I have lain\\n Bent in\",\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \"st thou hear?--\\n And there: \\\"Betrayer of a master's bed.\\\"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\\n By her thou heldest dear,\\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where\",\n \"PHAEDRA\\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraug\",\n \"Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still?\\n Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame,\\n Or let me cry for ever on their shame!\\n [_He goes off in fury to the left_.\\n PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state.\\n What shelter now is left or guard?\\n What spell to loose the iron knot of fate?\\n And this thing, O my God,\",\n \".\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\\n\\n NURSE\\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\\n\\n NURSE (_to herself\",\n \"AEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him.\\n She turns upon her_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart\\n To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part?\\n Am I enough trod down?\\n May Zeus, my sire,\\n Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire!\\n Said\",\n \"and so lost?\\n Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late,\\n To that swift river that no life hath crossed.\\n No woman ever lived so desolate!\\n\\n LEADER OF THE CHORUS\\n Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast\\n Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost!\\n [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS\",\n \" [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\\n and is listening_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\\n\\n LEADER\\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\\n\\n LEADER\\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, misery!\\n O God, that\",\n \" Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.\\n\\n NURSE (_suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet_)\\n Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_rising and trying to move away_)\\n What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my\",\n \"]\\n Oh, woe is me!\\n Women, we labour here all fruitlessly,\\n All as far off as ever from her heart!\\n She ever scorned me, and now hears no part\\n Of all my prayers! [_Turning to_ PHAEDRA _again._]\\n Nay, hear thou shalt, and be,\\n If so thou will, more wild than the wild sea;\\n But know, thou art thy little ones' betrayer!\\n If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir\\n To\",\n \"ath fallen on us!\\n\\n NURSE (_starting_)\\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...\\n\\n NURSE\\n Hippolytus, say'st thou?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_)\\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers\",\n \"evil-starred God's-messenger!\\n Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo\\n The bolts; and let me see the bitter view\\n Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own.\\n [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body\\n of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of\\n Handmaids, wailing_.]\\n\\n THE HANDMAIDS\\n Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done:\\n A\",\n \"and I love thee; and I sought\\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\\n And found--not what I sought for. Else I were\\n Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.\\n So fares it with us all in the world's sight.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n First stab me to the heart, then humour me\\n With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\\n\\n NURSE\\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill;\",\n \"Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\\n\\n NURSE\\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh,\\n There is a way to save thee, even so!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod\\n Already, foul and false and loathed of god!\\n Begone out of my sight; and ponder how\\n Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.\\n [_She turns from the_ NURSE,\",\n \"To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\\n For thee and\",\n \"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou? What? My wife? ...\\n Say how she died.\\n LEADER\\n In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all--\\n That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall?\\n\\n LEADER\\n We know no more. But now arrived we be,\\n Theseus, to mourn\"\n ],\n [\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \"_is heard from within, crying,\\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\\n\\n VOICE\\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\\n\\n A WOMAN\\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\\n\\n VOICE\\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\\n So fast! Will no one bring me a\",\n \"PHAEDRA\\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraug\",\n \":\\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day\\n When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,\\n Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,\\n Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên.\\n And here that grievous and amazed Queen,\\n Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\\n Nor dreamed\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\",\n \"I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\\n\\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA\",\n \"st thou hear?--\\n And there: \\\"Betrayer of a master's bed.\\\"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\\n By her thou heldest dear,\\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where\",\n \"\\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\\n\\n LEADER\\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou?\",\n \"ath fallen on us!\\n\\n NURSE (_starting_)\\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...\\n\\n NURSE\\n Hippolytus, say'st thou?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_)\\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers\",\n \"eyes;\\n It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!\\n\\n THESEUS (_supporting him in his arms_)\\n Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THE\",\n \"\\n But know, thou art thy little ones' betrayer!\\n If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir\\n To Theseus' castle? Nay, not thine, I ween,\\n But hers! That barbèd Amazonian Queen\\n Hath left a child to bend thy children low,\\n A bastard royal-hearted--sayst not so?--\\n Hippolytus...\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Ah!\\n [_She starts up, sitting, and throws the veil off_.]\",\n \". There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise\",\n \"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou? What? My wife? ...\\n Say how she died.\\n LEADER\\n In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all--\\n That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall?\\n\\n LEADER\\n We know no more. But now arrived we be,\\n Theseus, to mourn\",\n \" [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\\n and is listening_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\\n\\n LEADER\\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\\n\\n LEADER\\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, misery!\\n O God, that\",\n \";\\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\\n The old proud Cretan castle whence I came,\\n I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes,\\n Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice!\\n\\n LEADER\\n What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_musing_)\\n Die; but how die?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Let not such wild words fall!\\n\\n PHA\",\n \"this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\\n Curse of thy lips.\\n The boon of thy great Sire\\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\\n I called thee\",\n \"that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.\\n 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run\\n Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.\\n What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?\\n [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]\\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\\n Why art thou silent\",\n \" But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\\n\\n\",\n \"it, who could speak of it?\\n\\n LEADER\\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\\n\\n LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it\",\n \"SEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death...\\n Quick, Father; lay the mantle on my face.\\n [THESEUS _covers his face with a mantle and rises._]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race,\\n What greatness have ye lost!\\n Woe, woe is me!\\n Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee\"\n ],\n [\n \"AEDRA\\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark\\n The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say\\n What thing hath come to thee?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_calmly_)\\n Why, what thing should it be?\\n The son of that proud Amazon speaks again\\n In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!\\n\\n\",\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \"st thou hear?--\\n And there: \\\"Betrayer of a master's bed.\\\"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\\n By her thou heldest dear,\\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where\",\n \" [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\\n and is listening_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\\n\\n LEADER\\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\\n\\n LEADER\\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, misery!\\n O God, that\",\n \"and I love thee; and I sought\\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\\n And found--not what I sought for. Else I were\\n Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.\\n So fares it with us all in the world's sight.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n First stab me to the heart, then humour me\\n With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\\n\\n NURSE\\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill;\",\n \"eries.\\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn\\n With great love, by the working of my will.\\n And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill,\\n Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,\\n She built a shrine, and named it _Love-at-home_:\\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the\",\n \"PHAEDRA\\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraug\",\n \"dim,\\n And rest upon earth comes never.\\n But if any far-off state there be,\\n Dearer than life to mortality;\\n The hand of the Dark hath hold thereof,\\n And mist is under and mist above.\\n And so we are sick of life, and cling\\n On earth to this nameless and shining thing.\\n For other life is a fountain sealed,\\n And the deeps below are unrevealed,\\n And we drift on legends for ever!\\n [PHAEDRA _during this has\",\n \"_is heard from within, crying,\\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\\n\\n VOICE\\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\\n\\n A WOMAN\\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\\n\\n VOICE\\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\\n So fast! Will no one bring me a\",\n \"I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\\n\\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA\",\n \"we\\n That know the joy of white virginity,\\n Most hate in heaven. She sent her fire to run\\n In Phaedra's veins, so that she loved thy son.\\n Yet strove she long with love, and in the stress\\n Fell not, till by her Nurse's craftiness\\n Betrayed, who stole, with oaths of secrecy,\\n To entreat thy son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke\",\n \"I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, misery!\\n O God, that such a thing should fall on me!\\n\\n LEADER\\n What sound, what word,\\n O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start\\n Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard\\n Hath leapt upon thine heart?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks\",\n \"beneath the Earth,\\n Dark may my dwelling be,\\n And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth,\\n O Love, of thy most sweet society.\\n This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine.\\n [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.]\\n Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign\\n Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee?\\n [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks\",\n \"the deeps below are unrevealed,\\n And we drift on legends for ever!\\n [PHAEDRA _during this has been laid on her couch;\\n she speaks to the handmaids_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Yes; lift me: not my head so low.\\n There, hold my arms.--Fair arms they seem!--\\n My poor limbs scarce obey me now!\\n Take off that hood that weighs my brow,\\n And let my long hair stream.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Nay,\",\n \"and praise thee in the Song\\n Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.\\n O seed of ancient Aegeus, bend thee now\\n And clasp thy son. Aye, hold and fear not thou!\\n Not knowingly hast thou slain him; and man's way,\\n When Gods send error, needs must fall astray.\\n And thou, Hippolytus, shrink not from the King,\\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\\n Farewell\",\n \"ea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake,\\n Honours most high in Trozên will I make;\\n For yokeless maids before their bridal night\\n Shall shear for thee their tresses; and a rite\\n Of honouring tears be thine in ceaseless store;\\n And virgin's thoughts in music evermore\\n Turn toward thee, and praise thee in the Song\\n Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.\\n O seed of ancient\",\n \"To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\\n For thee and\",\n \"LEADER\\n By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear,\\n No word will I of these thy griefs reveal!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel\\n And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is,\\n I clutch at in this coil of miseries;\\n To save some honour for my children's sake;\\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\\n The old\",\n \", in God's name!--Nay, leave me; loose my hand!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Never, until thou grant me what I pray.\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_yielding, after a pause_)\\n So be it. I dare not tear that hand away.\\n\\n NURSE (_rising and releasing PHAEDRA_)\\n Tell all thou wilt, Daughter. I speak no more.\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\\n\\n N\",\n \"ful Love!\\n\\n [PHAEDRA _during this has risen from the couch and comes forward\\n collectedly. As she speaks the_ NURSE _gradually rouses herself,\\n and listens more calmly._]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n O Women, dwellers in this portal-seat\\n Of Pelops' land, gazing towards my Crete,\\n How oft, in other days than these, have I\\n Through night's long hours thought of man's misery,\\n And how this life is wrecked\"\n ],\n [\n \". There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise\",\n \"of!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah me!\\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc\",\n \"ed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--Aye, 'twas she.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is\",\n \"weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A\",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell;\\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have b\",\n \"!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\\n raises both arms to heaven._]\\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not\",\n \" I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\\n Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way\\n Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.\\n\\n For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore\\n Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas\\n Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.\\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart\",\n \"ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than\",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\\n\\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own\",\n \" To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most\",\n \"as fire from a God's hand sped,\\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah, pain, pain, pain!\\n O unrighteous curse! O unrighteous sire!\\n No hope.--My head is stabbed with fire,\\n And a leaping spasm about my brain.\\n Stay, let me rest. I can no more.\\n O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed,\\n Have ye maimed me and slain, that loved me of yore?\\n\",\n \", and to thee!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Alas!\",\n \"On child and house of the evil falls like fire.\\n [_A throng is seen approaching;_ HIPPOLYTUS _enters,\\n supported by his attendants._]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n Lo, it is he! The bright young head\\n Yet upright there!\\n Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;\\n Alas for the kindred's trouble!\\n It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,\\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n \",\n \"\\n Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife;\\n And standeth here convicted by the dead,\\n A most black villain!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.]\\n Nay, hide not thine head!\\n Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain.\\n Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again!\\n Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect;\\n Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill\",\n \" But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n \",\n \"grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day,\\n If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!\\n I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n It may not be.--And more, I cast him out\\n From all my realms. He shall be held about\\n By two great do\",\n \"e my pity! Get thee gone!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away._\\n THESEUS, _as soon as he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters the\\n Castle. The door is closed again._ HIPPOLYTUS _has stopped for a\\n moment before the Statue of _ARTEMIS, _and, as _THESEUS_ departs,\\n breaks out in prayer._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n So; it is done! O dark\",\n \"and praise thee in the Song\\n Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.\\n O seed of ancient Aegeus, bend thee now\\n And clasp thy son. Aye, hold and fear not thou!\\n Not knowingly hast thou slain him; and man's way,\\n When Gods send error, needs must fall astray.\\n And thou, Hippolytus, shrink not from the King,\\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\\n Farewell\",\n \" Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood\\n That makes me marvel! By my faith, wert thou\\n The son, and I the sire; and deemed I now\\n In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed,\\n I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed,\\n But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so\"\n ],\n [\n \"Lord of the Main\\n To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.\\n\\n And she, not in dishonour, yet shall die.\\n I would not rate this woman's pain so high\\n As not to pay mine haters in full fee\\n That vengeance that shall make all well with me.\\n\\n But soft, here comes he, striding from the chase,\\n Our Prince Hippolytus!--I will go my ways.--\\n And hunters at his heels: and a loud throng\\n Glorying Artem\",\n \"of!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah me!\\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc\",\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n \",\n \"ed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--Aye, 'twas she.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is\",\n \"it, who could speak of it?\\n\\n LEADER\\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\\n\\n LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it\",\n \"this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\\n Curse of thy lips.\\n The boon of thy great Sire\\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\\n I called thee\",\n \"; but swifter than man may,\\n Let loose the curse to slay thine innocent son!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n O Goddess, let me die!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Nay; thou hast done\\n A heavy wrong; yet even beyond this ill\\n Abides for thee forgiveness. 'Twas the will\\n Of Cypris that these evil things should be,\\n Sating her wrath. And this immutably\\n Hath Zeus ordained in heaven: no God may thwart\\n A God'\",\n \"weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A\",\n \"of human kind.\\n\\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\\n He holds\",\n \"Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\\n Nor dreamed.\\n\\n But never thus this love shall end!\\n To Theseus' ear some whisper will I send,\\n And all be bare! And that proud Prince, my foe,\\n His sire shall slay with curses. Even so\\n Endeth that boon the great Lord of the Main\\n To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.\\n\\n And she, not in dishonour, yet\",\n \"\\n Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago\\n His own red hounds through yonder forest dim\\n Tore unto death, because he vaunted him\\n Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware\\n And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer\\n With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight.\\n [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.]\\n\\n PENTHEUS\\n Down with that hand! Aroint thee\",\n \"e my pity! Get thee gone!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away._\\n THESEUS, _as soon as he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters the\\n Castle. The door is closed again._ HIPPOLYTUS _has stopped for a\\n moment before the Statue of _ARTEMIS, _and, as _THESEUS_ departs,\\n breaks out in prayer._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n So; it is done! O dark\",\n \"SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\\n \",\n \"ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\",\n \"\\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\\n\\n LEADER\\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou?\",\n \"ly fragrance! Though my pain\\n Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.\\n The Goddess Artemis is with me here.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or\",\n \", and to thee!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Alas!\",\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \"LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;\\n This deadly word,\\n That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,\\n Yet will not stay unheard.\\n [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]\\n Ho, hearken all this land!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my\"\n ],\n [\n \":\\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day\\n When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,\\n Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,\\n Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên.\\n And here that grievous and amazed Queen,\\n Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\\n Nor dreamed\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\",\n \"EN, WITH THEIR LEADER\\n\\n_The scene is laid in Trozên. The play was first acted when Epameinon\\nwas Archon, Olympiad 87, year 4 (B.C. 429). Euripides was first,\\nIophon second, Ion third._\\n\\n\\n APHRODITE\\n Great among men, and not unnamed am I,\\n The Cyprian, in God's inmost halls on high.\\n And wheresoe'er from Pontus to the far\\n\",\n \"we made our way\\n Up toward the desert region, where the bay\\n Curls to a promontory near the verge\\n Of our Trozên, facing the southward surge\\n Of Saron's gulf. Just there an angry sound,\\n Slow-swelling, like God's thunder underground\\n Broke on us, and we trembled. And the steeds\\n Pricked their ears skyward, and threw back their heads.\\n And wonder came on all men, and affright,\\n Whence rose that awful voice. And swift our\",\n \"te_.]\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\\n King Theseus? Is he in this dwelling? Speak!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Lo, where he cometh through the Castle gate!\\n [THESEUS _comes out from the Castle_.]\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n O King, I bear thee tidings of dire weight\\n To thee, aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n \",\n \"eries.\\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn\\n With great love, by the working of my will.\\n And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill,\\n Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,\\n She built a shrine, and named it _Love-at-home_:\\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the\",\n \"ea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake,\\n Honours most high in Trozên will I make;\\n For yokeless maids before their bridal night\\n Shall shear for thee their tresses; and a rite\\n Of honouring tears be thine in ceaseless store;\\n And virgin's thoughts in music evermore\\n Turn toward thee, and praise thee in the Song\\n Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.\\n O seed of ancient\",\n \"\\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\\n\\n LEADER\\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou?\",\n \"iff's brand\\n Forth from great Athens! Fare ye well, O land\\n And city of old Erechtheus! Thou, Trozên,\\n What riches of glad youth mine eyes have seen\\n In thy broad plain! Farewell! This is the end;\\n The last word, the last look!\\n Come, every friend\\n And fellow of my youth that still may stay,\\n Give me god-speed and cheer me on my way.\\n Ne'er shall ye see a man more pure of spot\\n \",\n \" Ismenus' shore. There by the castle side\\n I see her place, the Tomb of the Lightning's Bride,\\n The wreck of smouldering chambers, and the great\\n Faint wreaths of fire undying--as the hate\\n Dies not, that Hera held for Semelê.\\n Aye, Cadmus hath done well; in purity\\n He keeps this place apart, inviolate,\\n His daughter's sanctuary; and I have set\\n My green and clustered vines to ro\",\n \"AGAVE\\n Beyond measure;\\n Yea, glad in the breaking\\n Of dawn upon all this land,\\n By the prize, the prize of my hand!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Show them to all the land, unhappy one,\\n The trophy of this deed that thou hast done!\\n\\n AGAVE\\n Ho, all ye men that round the citadel\\n And shining towers of ancient Thêbê dwell,\\n Come! Look upon this prize, this lion's spoil,\\n That we have taken--yea\",\n \"Lord of the Main\\n To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.\\n\\n And she, not in dishonour, yet shall die.\\n I would not rate this woman's pain so high\\n As not to pay mine haters in full fee\\n That vengeance that shall make all well with me.\\n\\n But soft, here comes he, striding from the chase,\\n Our Prince Hippolytus!--I will go my ways.--\\n And hunters at his heels: and a loud throng\\n Glorying Artem\",\n \"slain.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\\n I called thee Father; thou hast heard my prayer!\\n How did he die? Speak on. How closed the snare\\n Of Heaven to slay the shamer of my blood?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n 'Twas by the bank of beating sea we stood,\\n We thralls, and decked the steeds, and combed each mane;\\n Weeping; for word had come that ne'er again\\n The\",\n \"beneath the sod\\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' rancour sprung,\\n Quell thee, mine own, the saintly and the true!\\n My hand shall win its vengeance through and through,\\n Piercing with flawless shaft what heart soe'er\\n Of all men living is most dear to Her.\\n Yea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake,\\n Honours most high in Trozên will I make;\\n\",\n \"and ponder how\\n Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.\\n [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.]\\n\\n Only do ye, high Daughters of Trozên,\\n Let all ye hear be as it had not been;\\n Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer.\\n\\n LEADER\\n By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear,\\n No word will I of these thy griefs reveal!\\n\",\n \"e from this land\\n To exile with all speed. Come never more\\n To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore\\n Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong!\\n What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong,\\n And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so\\n Will bear men witness that I laid him low,\\n Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey,\\n Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Al\",\n \", and threw back their heads.\\n And wonder came on all men, and affright,\\n Whence rose that awful voice. And swift our sight\\n Turned seaward, down the salt and roaring sand.\\n And there, above the horizon, seemed to stand\\n A wave unearthly, crested in the sky;\\n Till Skiron's Cape first vanished from mine eye,\\n Then sank the Isthmus hidden, then the rock\\n Of Epidaurus. Then it broke, one shock\\n And roar of gasping sea and spray fl\",\n \"\\n But, dead or living, let my Father see\\n One day, how falsely he hath hated me!\\\"\\n Even as he spake, he lifted up the goad\\n And smote; and the steeds sprang. And down the road\\n We henchmen followed, hard beside the rein,\\n Each hand, to speed him, toward the Argive plain\\n And Epidaurus.\\n So we made our way\\n Up toward the desert region, where the bay\\n Curls to a promontory near the verge\\n Of our\",\n \"in, nor yet disgrace.\\n Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers?\\n\\n PENTHEUS\\n Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers.\\n\\n DIONYSUS\\n Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland.\\n\\n PENTHEUS\\n And whence these revelations, that thy band\\n Spreadeth in Hellas?\\n\\n DIONYSUS\\n Their intent and use\\n Dionysus oped to me, the\",\n \"of human kind.\\n\\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\\n He holds\"\n ],\n [\n \"te_.]\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\\n King Theseus? Is he in this dwelling? Speak!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Lo, where he cometh through the Castle gate!\\n [THESEUS _comes out from the Castle_.]\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n O King, I bear thee tidings of dire weight\\n To thee, aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\\n\\n LEADER\\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou?\",\n \"SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\\n \",\n \"it, who could speak of it?\\n\\n LEADER\\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\\n\\n LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\",\n \"! here comes he at the point of need.\\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n \",\n \",\\n (Alas for the day!)\\n Was he naught, then, to you,\\n That ye cast him away,\\n The stainless and true,\\n From the old happy places?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Look yonder! 'Tis the Prince's man, I ween\\n Speeding toward this gate, most dark of mien.\\n [A HENCHMAN _enters in haste_.]\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\\n King Theseus? Is he in this\",\n \"this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\\n Curse of thy lips.\\n The boon of thy great Sire\\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\\n I called thee\",\n \"LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;\\n This deadly word,\\n That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,\\n Yet will not stay unheard.\\n [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]\\n Ho, hearken all this land!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my\",\n \"e from this land\\n To exile with all speed. Come never more\\n To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore\\n Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong!\\n What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong,\\n And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so\\n Will bear men witness that I laid him low,\\n Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey,\\n Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Al\",\n \" And swing their dying words from every tree\\n On Ida! For I know that he was true!\\n\\n LEADER\\n O God, so cometh new disaster, new\\n Despair! And no escape from what must be!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Hate of the man thus stricken lifted me\\n At first to joy at hearing of thy tale;\\n But now, some shame before the Gods, some pale\\n Pity for mine own blood, hath o'er me come.\\n I laugh not, neither weep, at this fell do\",\n \"that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.\\n 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run\\n Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.\\n What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?\\n [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]\\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\\n Why art thou silent\",\n \"see,\\n Aye, and to trap them--so they trap not thee!\\n\\n PENTHEUS\\n Forth through the Thebans' town! I am their king,\\n Aye, their one Man, seeing I dare this thing!\\n\\n DIONYSUS\\n Yea, thou shalt bear their burden, thou alone;\\n Therefore thy trial awaiteth thee!--But on;\\n With me into thine ambush shalt thou come\\n Unscathed; then let another bear thee home!\\n\\n PENTHE\",\n \" But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\\n\\n\",\n \"are forgot!\\n Alas! this misery!\\n Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled\\n From age to age on me,\\n For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one,\\n A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Deep, deep beneath the Earth,\\n Dark may my dwelling be,\\n And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth,\\n \",\n \"of human kind.\\n\\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\\n He holds\",\n \"polytus, shrink not from the King,\\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\\n Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,\\n Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.\\n And sure that Terror now is very near.\\n [_The cloud slowly rises and floats away_.]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear\\n Of soiling men! Thou wilt not g\",\n \"It may not be.--And more, I cast him out\\n From all my realms. He shall be held about\\n By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath\\n He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death;\\n Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea,\\n Shall live and drain the cup of misery.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need.\\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\\n For all thine house\",\n \"O King,\\n Hadst thou been there, as I, and seen this thing,\\n With prayer and most high wonder hadst thou gone\\n To adore this God whom now thou rail'st upon!\\n Howbeit, the kine-wardens and shepherds straight\\n Came to one place, amazed, and held debate;\\n And one being there who walked the streets and scanned\\n The ways of speech, took lead of them whose hand\\n Knew but the slow soil and the solemn hill,\\n And flattering spoke, and asked:\",\n \"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou? What? My wife? ...\\n Say how she died.\\n LEADER\\n In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all--\\n That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall?\\n\\n LEADER\\n We know no more. But now arrived we be,\\n Theseus, to mourn\"\n ],\n [\n \"SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\\n \",\n \":\\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day\\n When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,\\n Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,\\n Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên.\\n And here that grievous and amazed Queen,\\n Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\\n Nor dreamed\",\n \",\\n (Alas for the day!)\\n Was he naught, then, to you,\\n That ye cast him away,\\n The stainless and true,\\n From the old happy places?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Look yonder! 'Tis the Prince's man, I ween\\n Speeding toward this gate, most dark of mien.\\n [A HENCHMAN _enters in haste_.]\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Ye women, whither shall I go to seek\\n King Theseus? Is he in this\",\n \"\\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\\n\\n LEADER\\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou?\",\n \" Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood\\n That makes me marvel! By my faith, wert thou\\n The son, and I the sire; and deemed I now\\n In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed,\\n I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed,\\n But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so\",\n \"e from this land\\n To exile with all speed. Come never more\\n To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore\\n Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong!\\n What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong,\\n And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so\\n Will bear men witness that I laid him low,\\n Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey,\\n Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Al\",\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \"that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.\\n 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run\\n Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.\\n What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?\\n [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]\\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\\n Why art thou silent\",\n \"it, who could speak of it?\\n\\n LEADER\\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\\n\\n LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it\",\n \"TUS\\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, if I could, past Pontus, and the red\\n Atlantic marge! So do I hate thine head.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Wilt weigh nor oath nor faith nor prophet's word\\n To prove me? Drive me from thy sight unheard?\\n\\n THESEUS\\n This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot\\n \",\n \" What brought this blackness over all thy life?\\n [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ah me, this is the last\\n --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest\\n Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest,\\n How hath thine heavy heel across me passed!\\n Is it the stain of sins done long ago,\\n Some fell God still remembereth,\\n That must so dim and fret my life with death?\\n I cannot win\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\",\n \"turn me? Think. To what friend's door\\n Betake me, banished on a charge so sore?\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Whoso delights to welcome to his hall\\n Vile ravishers ... to guard his hearth withal!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Thou seekst my heart, my tears? Aye, let it be\\n Thus! I am vile to all men, and to thee!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\\n Ere thou didst\",\n \"this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\\n Curse of thy lips.\\n The boon of thy great Sire\\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\\n I called thee\",\n \"! here comes he at the point of need.\\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n \",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\\n\\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own\",\n \"\\n Ye whom I love most? No. It may not be!\\n The one heart that I need I ne'er should gain\\n To trust me. I should break mine oath in vain.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Death! but he chokes me with his saintly tone!--\\n Up, get thee from this land! Begone! Begone!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Where shall I turn me? Think. To what friend's door\\n Betake me, banished on a charge so sore?\\n\\n THESEUS\\n\",\n \" But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\\n\\n\",\n \"LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;\\n This deadly word,\\n That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,\\n Yet will not stay unheard.\\n [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]\\n Ho, hearken all this land!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my\",\n \", and to thee!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Alas!\"\n ],\n [\n \"of!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah me!\\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc\",\n \"ed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--Aye, 'twas she.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is\",\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n \",\n \"Lord of the Main\\n To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.\\n\\n And she, not in dishonour, yet shall die.\\n I would not rate this woman's pain so high\\n As not to pay mine haters in full fee\\n That vengeance that shall make all well with me.\\n\\n But soft, here comes he, striding from the chase,\\n Our Prince Hippolytus!--I will go my ways.--\\n And hunters at his heels: and a loud throng\\n Glorying Artem\",\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \"this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\\n Curse of thy lips.\\n The boon of thy great Sire\\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\\n I called thee\",\n \"of human kind.\\n\\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\\n He holds\",\n \"weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A\",\n \"it, who could speak of it?\\n\\n LEADER\\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\\n\\n LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it\",\n \"indeed beyond man's mysteries,\\n To make a false heart true against his will.\\n But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill,\\n Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as before_)\\n O would that God had given us here below\\n Some test of love, some sifting of the soul,\\n To tell the false and true! Or through the whole\\n Of men two voices ran, one true and right,\\n The other as chance willed it; that we might\\n Convict the liar by\",\n \"LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;\\n This deadly word,\\n That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,\\n Yet will not stay unheard.\\n [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]\\n Ho, hearken all this land!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my\",\n \"near to thee, and more than kin.\\n\\n THESEUS (_to himself_)\\n Fond race of men, so striving and so blind,\\n Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find,\\n Desiring all and all imagining:\\n But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing,\\n To make a true heart there where no heart is!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n That were indeed beyond man's mysteries,\\n To make a false heart true against his will.\\n But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill\",\n \"Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\\n Nor dreamed.\\n\\n But never thus this love shall end!\\n To Theseus' ear some whisper will I send,\\n And all be bare! And that proud Prince, my foe,\\n His sire shall slay with curses. Even so\\n Endeth that boon the great Lord of the Main\\n To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.\\n\\n And she, not in dishonour, yet\",\n \"Pain that is painlessness? 'Tis sleep I crave.\\n When wilt thou bring me sleep,\\n Thou dark and midnight magic of the grave!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Sore-stricken man, bethink thee in this stress,\\n Thou dost but die for thine own nobleness.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah!\\n O breath of heavenly fragrance! Though my pain\\n Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.\\n The Goddess Artemis is\",\n \"SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\\n \",\n \"ly fragrance! Though my pain\\n Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.\\n The Goddess Artemis is with me here.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or\",\n \"ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\",\n \", and to thee!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Alas!\",\n \"e my pity! Get thee gone!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away._\\n THESEUS, _as soon as he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters the\\n Castle. The door is closed again._ HIPPOLYTUS _has stopped for a\\n moment before the Statue of _ARTEMIS, _and, as _THESEUS_ departs,\\n breaks out in prayer._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n So; it is done! O dark\"\n ],\n [\n \"PHAEDRA\\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraug\",\n \"and sort thereof, 'twould like us well.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Small leechcraft have I, and she tells no man.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thou know'st no cause? Nor when the unrest began?\\n\\n NURSE\\n It all comes to the same. She will not speak.\\n\\n LEADER (_turning and looking at_ PHAEDRA).\\n How she is changed and wasted! And how weak!\\n\\n NURSE\\n 'Tis the third day she hath fasted utterly.\\n\\n\",\n \" PHAEDRA _to lie upon_.]\\n\\n NURSE\\n O sick and sore are the days of men!\\n What wouldst thou? What shall I change again\\n Here is the Sun for thee; here is the sky;\\n And thy weary pillows wind-swept lie,\\n By the castle door.\\n But the cloud of thy brow is dark, I ween;\\n And soon thou wilt back to thy bower within:\\n So swift to change is the path of thy feet,\\n And near things hateful\",\n \"st thou hear?--\\n And there: \\\"Betrayer of a master's bed.\\\"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\\n By her thou heldest dear,\\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where\",\n \"\\n Be kindlier, and unlock that prisoned brow.\\n And I, who followed then the wrong road, now\\n Will leave it and be wiser. If thou fear\\n Some secret sickness, there be women here\\n To give thee comfort. [PHAEDRA _shakes her head_.\\n No; not secret? Then\\n Is it a sickness meet for aid of men?\\n Speak, that a leech may tend thee.\\n Silent still?\\n Nay, Child, what profits silence? If 'tis ill\",\n \" [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\\n and is listening_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\\n\\n LEADER\\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\\n\\n LEADER\\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, misery!\\n O God, that\",\n \"ily,\\n O child of woman, life is well with thee!\\n\\n [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.]\\n\\n Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind,\\n Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind,\\n To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare:\\n A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there,\\n Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm,\\n And magic words. And I shall find the balm\",\n \"yore\\n With the Queen. Doth she lead her hither\\n To the wind and sun?--Ah, fain would I know\\n What strange betiding hath blanched that brow\\n And made that young life wither.\\n [_The NURSE comes out from the central door followed by_ PHAEDRA,\\n _who is supported by two handmaids. They make ready a couch for_\\n PHAEDRA _to lie upon_.]\\n\\n NURSE\\n O sick and sore are the days of men!\\n What\",\n \"and I love thee; and I sought\\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\\n And found--not what I sought for. Else I were\\n Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.\\n So fares it with us all in the world's sight.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n First stab me to the heart, then humour me\\n With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\\n\\n NURSE\\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill;\",\n \"the deeps below are unrevealed,\\n And we drift on legends for ever!\\n [PHAEDRA _during this has been laid on her couch;\\n she speaks to the handmaids_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Yes; lift me: not my head so low.\\n There, hold my arms.--Fair arms they seem!--\\n My poor limbs scarce obey me now!\\n Take off that hood that weighs my brow,\\n And let my long hair stream.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Nay,\",\n \"\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\\n\\n NURSE (_to herself_)\\n I am all lost and feared. What will she say?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n From there my grief comes, not from yesterday.\\n\\n NURSE\\n I come no nearer to thy parable.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, would that thou could'st tell what I must tell!\\n\\n NURSE\\n I am no seer in things I wot not of.\",\n \"_is heard from within, crying,\\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\\n\\n VOICE\\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\\n\\n A WOMAN\\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\\n\\n VOICE\\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\\n So fast! Will no one bring me a\",\n \"has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA,\\n _downcast but calm_.]\\n\\n NURSE\\n Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot\\n So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild,\\n I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child,\\n I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught.\\n I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought\\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\\n And found--not what I sought for.\",\n \".\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\\n\\n NURSE\\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\\n\\n NURSE (_to herself\",\n \"Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\\n\\n NURSE\\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh,\\n There is a way to save thee, even so!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod\\n Already, foul and false and loathed of god!\\n Begone out of my sight; and ponder how\\n Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.\\n [_She turns from the_ NURSE,\",\n \"il_)\\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers her face again.\\n The_ NURSE _starts violently from her and walks up and down._]\\n\\n NURSE\\n O God! what wilt thou say, Child? Wouldst thou try\\n To kill me?--Oh, 'tis more than I can bear;\\n Women. I will no more of it, this glare\\n Of hated day, this shining of the sky.\\n I will\",\n \"I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, misery!\\n O God, that such a thing should fall on me!\\n\\n LEADER\\n What sound, what word,\\n O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start\\n Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard\\n Hath leapt upon thine heart?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks\",\n \"I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\\n\\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA\",\n \"dim,\\n And rest upon earth comes never.\\n But if any far-off state there be,\\n Dearer than life to mortality;\\n The hand of the Dark hath hold thereof,\\n And mist is under and mist above.\\n And so we are sick of life, and cling\\n On earth to this nameless and shining thing.\\n For other life is a fountain sealed,\\n And the deeps below are unrevealed,\\n And we drift on legends for ever!\\n [PHAEDRA _during this has\",\n \"ful Love!\\n\\n [PHAEDRA _during this has risen from the couch and comes forward\\n collectedly. As she speaks the_ NURSE _gradually rouses herself,\\n and listens more calmly._]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n O Women, dwellers in this portal-seat\\n Of Pelops' land, gazing towards my Crete,\\n How oft, in other days than these, have I\\n Through night's long hours thought of man's misery,\\n And how this life is wrecked\"\n ],\n [\n \"I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\\n\\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA\",\n \"_is heard from within, crying,\\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\\n\\n VOICE\\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\\n\\n A WOMAN\\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\\n\\n VOICE\\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\\n So fast! Will no one bring me a\",\n \"RA (_musing_)\\n Die; but how die?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Let not such wild words fall!\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_)\\n Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be\\n To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me!\\n To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past\\n Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last.\\n Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane!\\n He shall not stand so proud where I have lain\\n Bent in\",\n \";\\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\\n The old proud Cretan castle whence I came,\\n I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes,\\n Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice!\\n\\n LEADER\\n What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_musing_)\\n Die; but how die?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Let not such wild words fall!\\n\\n PHA\",\n \"PHAEDRA\\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraug\",\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \"st thou hear?--\\n And there: \\\"Betrayer of a master's bed.\\\"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\\n By her thou heldest dear,\\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where\",\n \"Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still?\\n Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame,\\n Or let me cry for ever on their shame!\\n [_He goes off in fury to the left_.\\n PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state.\\n What shelter now is left or guard?\\n What spell to loose the iron knot of fate?\\n And this thing, O my God,\",\n \"AEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him.\\n She turns upon her_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart\\n To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part?\\n Am I enough trod down?\\n May Zeus, my sire,\\n Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire!\\n Said\",\n \" [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\\n and is listening_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\\n\\n LEADER\\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\\n\\n LEADER\\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, misery!\\n O God, that\",\n \" Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.\\n\\n NURSE (_suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet_)\\n Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_rising and trying to move away_)\\n What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my\",\n \".\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\\n\\n NURSE\\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\\n\\n NURSE (_to herself\",\n \"and so lost?\\n Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late,\\n To that swift river that no life hath crossed.\\n No woman ever lived so desolate!\\n\\n LEADER OF THE CHORUS\\n Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast\\n Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost!\\n [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is\\n cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS\",\n \"]\\n Oh, woe is me!\\n Women, we labour here all fruitlessly,\\n All as far off as ever from her heart!\\n She ever scorned me, and now hears no part\\n Of all my prayers! [_Turning to_ PHAEDRA _again._]\\n Nay, hear thou shalt, and be,\\n If so thou will, more wild than the wild sea;\\n But know, thou art thy little ones' betrayer!\\n If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir\\n To\",\n \"Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\\n\\n NURSE\\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh,\\n There is a way to save thee, even so!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod\\n Already, foul and false and loathed of god!\\n Begone out of my sight; and ponder how\\n Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.\\n [_She turns from the_ NURSE,\",\n \"evil-starred God's-messenger!\\n Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo\\n The bolts; and let me see the bitter view\\n Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own.\\n [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body\\n of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of\\n Handmaids, wailing_.]\\n\\n THE HANDMAIDS\\n Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done:\\n A\",\n \"ath fallen on us!\\n\\n NURSE (_starting_)\\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...\\n\\n NURSE\\n Hippolytus, say'st thou?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_)\\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers\",\n \"and I love thee; and I sought\\n Only some balm to heal thy deep despair,\\n And found--not what I sought for. Else I were\\n Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.\\n So fares it with us all in the world's sight.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n First stab me to the heart, then humour me\\n With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!\\n\\n NURSE\\n We talk too long, Child. I did ill;\",\n \"To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\\n For thee and\",\n \", in God's name!--Nay, leave me; loose my hand!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Never, until thou grant me what I pray.\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_yielding, after a pause_)\\n So be it. I dare not tear that hand away.\\n\\n NURSE (_rising and releasing PHAEDRA_)\\n Tell all thou wilt, Daughter. I speak no more.\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\\n\\n N\"\n ],\n [\n \"SEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve\\n Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine\\n Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?\\n Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--\\n Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?\\n The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard\\n \",\n \"\\n Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,\\n Returning thus, to find his empty chair!\\n [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]\\n\\n LEADER\\n O Theseus, not on any old man's head\\n This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou?\",\n \"! here comes he at the point of need.\\n Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed\\n For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!\\n [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._\\n HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear\\n To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n \",\n \"this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\\n He had like mine denied, that sought his life?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire\\n Curse of thy lips.\\n The boon of thy great Sire\\n Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain\\n I called thee\",\n \"that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.\\n 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run\\n Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.\\n What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?\\n [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]\\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\\n Why art thou silent\",\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell;\\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have b\",\n \", aye, and to every man, I ween,\\n From Athens to the marches of Trozên.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,\\n The sister cities of my sovranty?\\n\\n HENCHMAN\\n Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark\\n Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.\\n\\n THESEUS (_as though unmoved_)\\n How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife\",\n \"ains silent. The murmurs increase._]\\n Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,\\n Why art thou silent? What doth silence know\\n Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe?\\n And human hearts in sorrow crave the more,\\n For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore.\\n It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in\\n From one most near to thee, and more than kin.\\n\\n THESEUS (_to himself_)\\n Fond race of men, so striving and\",\n \"ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than\",\n \"!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\\n raises both arms to heaven._]\\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not\",\n \"thy child in misery.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, bring him hither. Let me see the face\\n Of him who durst deny my deep disgrace\\n And his own sin; yea, speak with him, and prove\\n His clear guilt by God's judgments from above.\\n [_The_ HENCHMAN _departs to fetch_ HIPPOLYTUS; THESEUS _sits waiting in\\n stern gloom, while the_ CHORUS _sing. At the close of their song a\\n Divine Figure\",\n \" Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood\\n That makes me marvel! By my faith, wert thou\\n The son, and I the sire; and deemed I now\\n In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed,\\n I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed,\\n But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so\",\n \"eyes;\\n It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!\\n\\n THESEUS (_supporting him in his arms_)\\n Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THE\",\n \"when in her was no right;\\n And Right I follow to mine own despite!\\n\\n LEADER\\n It is enough! God's name is witness large,\\n And thy great oath, to assoil thee of this charge,\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Is not the man a juggler and a mage,\\n Cool wits and one right oath--what more?--to assuage\\n Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Am I so cool? Nay, Father,\",\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n \",\n \"LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;\\n This deadly word,\\n That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,\\n Yet will not stay unheard.\\n [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]\\n Ho, hearken all this land!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my\",\n \"SEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death...\\n Quick, Father; lay the mantle on my face.\\n [THESEUS _covers his face with a mantle and rises._]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race,\\n What greatness have ye lost!\\n Woe, woe is me!\\n Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee\",\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!\\n May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!\\n\\n THESEUS (_in a sudden blaze of rage_)\\n Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,\\n 'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?\\n [_The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury._]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n They touch me at their peril! Thine own\",\n \"it, who could speak of it?\\n\\n LEADER\\n What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,\\n Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly\\n And hide mine head! No more a man am I.\\n God what ghastly music echoes here!\\n\\n LEADER\\n How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n No; my lips' gates will hold it\"\n ],\n [\n \"son. And he, most righteously,\\n Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn\\n Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,\\n For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,\\n Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,\\n Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!\\n [THESEUS, _at first bewildered, then dumfounded,\\n now utters a deep groan._]\\n It stings\",\n \"PHAEDRA\\n My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.\\n\\n NURSE\\n Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraug\",\n \";\\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\\n The old proud Cretan castle whence I came,\\n I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes,\\n Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice!\\n\\n LEADER\\n What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_musing_)\\n Die; but how die?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Let not such wild words fall!\\n\\n PHA\",\n \"_is heard from within, crying,\\n at first inarticulately, then clearly_.]\\n\\n VOICE\\n Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!\\n Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!\\n\\n A WOMAN\\n God, is it so soon finished? That bright head\\n Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!\\n\\n VOICE\\n O haste! This knot about her throat is made\\n So fast! Will no one bring me a\",\n \"I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\\n\\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA\",\n \"ath fallen on us!\\n\\n NURSE (_starting_)\\n On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...\\n\\n NURSE\\n Hippolytus, say'st thou?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_)\\n Nay, 'twas thou, not I!\\n [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers\",\n \" [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door\\n and is listening_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.\\n\\n LEADER\\n How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!\\n\\n LEADER\\n I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Oh, misery!\\n O God, that\",\n \"st thou hear?--\\n And there: \\\"Betrayer of a master's bed.\\\"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed!\\n Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested,\\n Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near,\\n By her thou heldest dear,\\n By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where\",\n \"Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still?\\n Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame,\\n Or let me cry for ever on their shame!\\n [_He goes off in fury to the left_.\\n PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.]\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state.\\n What shelter now is left or guard?\\n What spell to loose the iron knot of fate?\\n And this thing, O my God,\",\n \" Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!\\n\\n NURSE\\n O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.\\n\\n NURSE (_suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet_)\\n Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_rising and trying to move away_)\\n What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my\",\n \":\\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day\\n When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,\\n Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,\\n Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên.\\n And here that grievous and amazed Queen,\\n Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\\n Nor dreamed\",\n \"AEDRA\\n I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark,\\n Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away!\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark\\n The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say\\n What thing hath come to thee?\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_calmly_)\\n Why, what thing should it be?\\n The son of that proud Amazon speaks again\\n In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n LEADER\\n Thy motherless children live, most grievously.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n How sayst thou? What? My wife? ...\\n Say how she died.\\n LEADER\\n In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all--\\n That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall?\\n\\n LEADER\\n We know no more. But now arrived we be,\\n Theseus, to mourn\",\n \"]\\n Oh, woe is me!\\n Women, we labour here all fruitlessly,\\n All as far off as ever from her heart!\\n She ever scorned me, and now hears no part\\n Of all my prayers! [_Turning to_ PHAEDRA _again._]\\n Nay, hear thou shalt, and be,\\n If so thou will, more wild than the wild sea;\\n But know, thou art thy little ones' betrayer!\\n If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir\\n To\",\n \"\\n But know, thou art thy little ones' betrayer!\\n If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir\\n To Theseus' castle? Nay, not thine, I ween,\\n But hers! That barbèd Amazonian Queen\\n Hath left a child to bend thy children low,\\n A bastard royal-hearted--sayst not so?--\\n Hippolytus...\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Ah!\\n [_She starts up, sitting, and throws the veil off_.]\",\n \"LEADER\\n By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear,\\n No word will I of these thy griefs reveal!\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel\\n And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is,\\n I clutch at in this coil of miseries;\\n To save some honour for my children's sake;\\n Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break\\n In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame\\n The old\",\n \"RA (_musing_)\\n Die; but how die?\\n\\n LEADER\\n Let not such wild words fall!\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_)\\n Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be\\n To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me!\\n To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past\\n Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last.\\n Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane!\\n He shall not stand so proud where I have lain\\n Bent in\",\n \"To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure\\n Or wise or strong; never had I for lure\\n Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!\\n But when a whole life one great battle is,\\n To win or lose--no man can blame me then.\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again\\n Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair\\n For thee and\",\n \"Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,\\n Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard\\n Nor dreamed.\\n\\n But never thus this love shall end!\\n To Theseus' ear some whisper will I send,\\n And all be bare! And that proud Prince, my foe,\\n His sire shall slay with curses. Even so\\n Endeth that boon the great Lord of the Main\\n To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.\\n\\n And she, not in dishonour, yet\",\n \".\\n\\n PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_)\\n Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!\\n\\n NURSE\\n What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!\\n\\n NURSE (_to herself\"\n ],\n [\n \"!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell;\\n A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!\\n [THESEUS _bends down and embraces him passionately_.]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have b\",\n \". There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise\",\n \"eyes;\\n It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!\\n\\n THESEUS (_supporting him in his arms_)\\n Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THE\",\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n \",\n \"weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A\",\n \"\\n Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife;\\n And standeth here convicted by the dead,\\n A most black villain!\\n [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.]\\n Nay, hide not thine head!\\n Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain.\\n Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again!\\n Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect;\\n Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill\",\n \"of!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah me!\\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc\",\n \"I am slain. She thought to help my fall\\n With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Where wilt thou turn thee, where?\\n And what help seek, O wounded to despair?\\n\\n PHAEDRA\\n I know not, save one thing to die right soon.\\n For such as me God keeps no other boon.\\n\\n [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth,\\n closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA\",\n \" To help thee, but I see not yet the cause\\n That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.\\n [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,\\n and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS\\n _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]\\n Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen\\n Dead!\\n [_Murmurs in the crowd._]\\n 'Tis most\",\n \"? Drive me from thy sight unheard?\\n\\n THESEUS\\n This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot\\n To speak from, tells me all. I ponder not\\n Thy fowls that fly above us! Let them fly.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n O ye great Gods, wherefore unlock not I\\n My lips, ere yet ye have slain me utterly,\\n Ye whom I love most? No. It may not be!\\n The one heart that I need I ne'er should gain\\n To\",\n \"ly fragrance! Though my pain\\n Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.\\n The Goddess Artemis is with me here.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or\",\n \"polytus, shrink not from the King,\\n Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.\\n Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,\\n Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.\\n And sure that Terror now is very near.\\n [_The cloud slowly rises and floats away_.]\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear\\n Of soiling men! Thou wilt not g\",\n \" But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped\\n To simple death, nor by thine own decree.\\n Swift death is bliss to men in misery.\\n Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain\\n Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,\\n Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?\\n\\n\",\n \"as fire from a God's hand sped,\\n Two deaths, and mourning double.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah, pain, pain, pain!\\n O unrighteous curse! O unrighteous sire!\\n No hope.--My head is stabbed with fire,\\n And a leaping spasm about my brain.\\n Stay, let me rest. I can no more.\\n O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed,\\n Have ye maimed me and slain, that loved me of yore?\\n\",\n \", and to thee!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n There was a time for tears and thought; the time\\n Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!\\n Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here\\n A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Alas!\",\n \"!\\n [_The people gather expectantly about him_.]\\n Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand\\n On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.\\n [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,\\n raises both arms to heaven._]\\n Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,\\n Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not\",\n \"\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?\\n\\n NURSE\\n Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ...\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge!\\n\\n NURSE\\n Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?\\n\\n NURSE\\n It is not meet\",\n \"grant me for mine own\\n Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,\\n Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day,\\n If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.\\n\\n LEADER\\n Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!\\n I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.\\n\\n THESEUS\\n It may not be.--And more, I cast him out\\n From all my realms. He shall be held about\\n By two great do\",\n \"ea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n My father; yea, he too is pitiable!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than\",\n \"SEUS\\n Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death...\\n Quick, Father; lay the mantle on my face.\\n [THESEUS _covers his face with a mantle and rises._]\\n\\n THESEUS\\n Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race,\\n What greatness have ye lost!\\n Woe, woe is me!\\n Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee\"\n ],\n [\n \"weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n The Cyprian? Now I see it!--A\",\n \"eries.\\n And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;\\n Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn\\n With great love, by the working of my will.\\n And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill,\\n Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,\\n She built a shrine, and named it _Love-at-home_:\\n And the rock held it, but its face alway\\n Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the\",\n \"_sits waiting in\\n stern gloom, while the_ CHORUS _sing. At the close of their song a\\n Divine Figure is seen approaching on a cloud in the air and the voice\\n of_ ARTEMIS _speaks_.]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n Thou comest to bend the pride\\n Of the hearts of God and man,\\n Cypris; and by thy side,\\n In earth-encircling span,\\n He of the changing plumes,\\n The Wing that the world illumes,\\n As over\",\n \"there\\n High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer\\n To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse,\\n Whate'er he be!--And in their companies\\n Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon\\n Away into the loneliness now one\\n Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame\\n Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame\\n They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay,\\n 'Tis more to Aph\",\n \". Then in us verily dwells\\n The God himself, and speaks the thing to be.\\n Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he.\\n When mortal armies, mailêd and arrayed,\\n Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade,\\n Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them.\\n Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem\\n Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train\\n Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-\",\n \".\\n Thou lovest. Is that so strange? Many there be\\n Beside thee! ... And because thou lovest, wilt fall\\n And die! And must all lovers die, then? All\\n That are or shall be? A blithe law for them!\\n Nay, when in might she swoops, no strength can stem\\n Cypris; and if man yields him, she is sweet;\\n But is he proud and stubborn? From his feet\\n She lifts him, and--how think you?--flings to scorn!\",\n \", cowering in the leaves. And there\\n Through the appointed hour they made their prayer\\n And worship of the Wand, with one accord\\n Of heart and cry--\\\"Iacchos, Bromios, Lord,\\n God of God born!\\\"--And all the mountain felt,\\n And worshipped with them; and the wild things knelt\\n And ramped and gloried, and the wilderness\\n Was filled with moving voices and dim stress.\\n Soon, as it chanced, beside my thicket-close\\n The Queen herself passed dancing, and I\",\n \"en and recovered herself_)\\n Mistress, a sharp swift terror struck me low\\n A moment since, hearing of this thy woe.\\n But now--I was a coward! And men say\\n Our second thought the wiser is alway.\\n This is no monstrous thing; no grief too dire\\n To meet with quiet thinking. In her ire\\n A most strong goddess hath swept down on thee.\\n Thou lovest. Is that so strange? Many there be\\n Beside thee! ... And because thou lovest, wilt\",\n \"of human kind.\\n\\n So runs my word; and soon the very deed\\n Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed,\\n Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,\\n And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own\\n Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên,\\n To hold me least of spirits and most mean,\\n And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\\n He holds\",\n \" Sleeping they lay, like wild things flung at ease\\n In the forest; one half sinking on a bed\\n Of deep pine greenery; one with careless head\\n Amid the fallen oak leaves; all most cold\\n In purity--not as thy tale was told\\n Of wine-cups and wild music and the chase\\n For love amid the forest's loneliness.\\n Then rose the Queen Agâvê suddenly\\n Amid her band, and gave the God's wild cry,\\n \\\"Awake, ye Bac\",\n \"that is wild and young\\n In mountain and wave and stream,\\n All that of earth is sprung,\\n Or breathes in the red sunbeam;\\n Yea, and Mankind. O'er all a royal throne,\\n Cyprian, Cyprian, is thine alone!\\n\\n A VOICE FROM THE CLOUD\\n O thou that rulest in Aegeus' Hall,\\n I charge thee, hearken!\\n Yea, it is I,\\n Artemis, Virgin of God most High\",\n \"ly fragrance! Though my pain\\n Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.\\n The Goddess Artemis is with me here.\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Who now shall hunt with thee or\",\n \"God, against the Thunder?\\n He will bind me for his prize,\\n Me, the Bride of Dionyse;\\n And my priest, my friend, is taken\\n Even now, and buried lies;\\n In the dark he lies forsaken!\\n\\n _All_\\n Lo, we race with death, we perish,\\n Dionysus, here before thee!\\n Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish,\\n Who implore thee, and adore thee?\\n Hither down Olympus' side\",\n \"_She suddenly sees the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _and\\n stands with her eyes riveted upon it._]\\n Ah, Cyprian! No god art thou,\\n But more than god, and greater, that hath thrust\\n Me and my queen and all our house to dust!\\n [_She throws herself on the ground close to the statue._]\\n\\n CHORUS\\n\\n _Some Women_\\n O Women, have ye heard? Nay, dare ye hear\\n The desolate cry of the young Queen's misery?\\n\",\n \"great Love's brethren are all we on earth!\\n Nay, they who con grey books of ancient days\\n Or dwell among the Muses, tell--and praise--\\n How Zeus himself once yearned for Semelê;\\n How maiden Eôs in her radiancy\\n Swept Kephalos to heaven away, away,\\n For sore love's sake. And there they dwell, men say,\\n And fear not, fret not; for a thing too stern\\n Hath met and crushed them!\\n \",\n \"spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,\\n But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,\\n He holds of all most high, gives love and praise,\\n And through the wild dark woods for ever strays,\\n He and the Maid together, with swift hounds\\n To slay all angry beasts from out these bounds,\\n To more than mortal friendship consecrate!\\n\\n I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;\\n Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day\\n \",\n \"EN, WITH THEIR LEADER\\n\\n_The scene is laid in Trozên. The play was first acted when Epameinon\\nwas Archon, Olympiad 87, year 4 (B.C. 429). Euripides was first,\\nIophon second, Ion third._\\n\\n\\n APHRODITE\\n Great among men, and not unnamed am I,\\n The Cyprian, in God's inmost halls on high.\\n And wheresoe'er from Pontus to the far\\n\",\n \",\\n In thine own Dictynna's sea-wild eyes?\\n Who in Limna here can find thee;\\n For the Deep's dry floor is her easy way,\\n And she moves in the salt wet whirl of the spray.\\n\\n _Other Women_\\n Or doth the Lord of Erechtheus' race,\\n Thy Theseus, watch for a fairer face,\\n For secret arms in a silent place,\\n Far from thy love or chiding?\\n\\n _Others_\\n Or h\",\n \"reveal thee.\\\"\\n\\n _All_\\n Still my prayer toward thee quivers,\\n Dircê, still to thee I hie me;\\n Why, O Blessed among Rivers,\\n Wilt thou fly me and deny me?\\n By His own joy I vow,\\n By the grape upon the bough,\\n Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now!\\n\\n _Other Maidens_\\n Dark and of the dark impassioned\\n Is this Pentheus'\",\n \"of!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS (_gently_)\\n Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!\\n\\n THESEUS\\n A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!\\n\\n HIPPOLYTUS\\n Ah me!\\n Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!\\n\\n ARTEMIS\\n Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod\\n Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung\\n Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' ranc\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["Which king trained Hippolytus since childhood?","What did Aphrodite \"inspire\" Phaedra to do?","Who warns Hippolytus about upsetting Aphrodite?","What is a chorus made up of?","What did the nurse tell Hippolytus to do for Phaedra after he promised not to tell anyone about it?","What did the letter found on Phaedra's body reveal?","What appeared at sea that frighted Hippolytus' horses that were pulling his chariot?","Who was angry that Theseus killed his son and confessed the truth about Hippolytus?","What happened between Hippolytus and Theseus just before Hippolytus died?","Where does this play take place?","Why is Theseus in exile?","Who is the goddess of love?","What has Hippolytus sworn?","Why is Phaedra ill?","How did Phaedra die?","What did Theseus discover on Phaedras body?","What did Phaedras letter say?","What was Hippolytus's punishment?","What did Artemis tell Theseus?","Troezen is a coastal town northeast of? ","Who is the king of Athens?","Why is Theseus exiled? ","What truth does Artemis reveal to Theseus?","Why is Phaedra ill?","How does Phaedra die?","Who is Theseus's father?","What does Phaedra claim in the letter Theseus finds on her body?","What does Hippolytus do before dying to make amends?","Who is the goddess of love?"],"string":"[\n \"Which king trained Hippolytus since childhood?\",\n \"What did Aphrodite \\\"inspire\\\" Phaedra to do?\",\n \"Who warns Hippolytus about upsetting Aphrodite?\",\n \"What is a chorus made up of?\",\n \"What did the nurse tell Hippolytus to do for Phaedra after he promised not to tell anyone about it?\",\n \"What did the letter found on Phaedra's body reveal?\",\n \"What appeared at sea that frighted Hippolytus' horses that were pulling his chariot?\",\n \"Who was angry that Theseus killed his son and confessed the truth about Hippolytus?\",\n \"What happened between Hippolytus and Theseus just before Hippolytus died?\",\n \"Where does this play take place?\",\n \"Why is Theseus in exile?\",\n \"Who is the goddess of love?\",\n \"What has Hippolytus sworn?\",\n \"Why is Phaedra ill?\",\n \"How did Phaedra die?\",\n \"What did Theseus discover on Phaedras body?\",\n \"What did Phaedras letter say?\",\n \"What was Hippolytus's punishment?\",\n \"What did Artemis tell Theseus?\",\n \"Troezen is a coastal town northeast of? \",\n \"Who is the king of Athens?\",\n \"Why is Theseus exiled? \",\n \"What truth does Artemis reveal to Theseus?\",\n \"Why is Phaedra ill?\",\n \"How does Phaedra die?\",\n \"Who is Theseus's father?\",\n \"What does Phaedra claim in the letter Theseus finds on her body?\",\n \"What does Hippolytus do before dying to make amends?\",\n \"Who is the goddess of love?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["Pittheus","Pittheus"],["to fall in love with Hippolytus","fall in love with Hippolytus"],["a servant ","A servant"],["young married women","Young married women of Troezen"],["yield to Phaedra's desires","yeild to Phaedras desire"],["she was raped by Hippolytus","a false accusation of rape by Hippolytus"],["a bull","A bull"],["Artemis","Artemis"],["Hippolytus forgave his father","They exchange kind words and Hippolytus forgives his father."],["Troezen.","In Peloponnese"],["For murdering a king and his sons.","He murdered a local king and his sons."],["Aphrodite.","Aphrodite"],["Chastity.","not to tell Phaedra's secret love of him"],["Because she loves Hippolytus.","She loves Hippolytus. "],["She hung herself.","She starved herself. "],["A letter.","A note asserting Hippolytus raped her. "],["That hippolytus raped her.","she was raped by Hippolytus"],["Exile.","He is exiled. "],["That Phaedra lied about the rape.","That Hippolytus is innocent."],["Peloponnese","Peloponnese"],["Theseus.","Theseus"],["He murdered a local king and his sons.","For murdering a king and his sons."],["Phaedra lied.","That his son is innocent of rape and that Phaedra lied."],["Because she is in love with Hippolytus.","Because she loves Hippolytus"],["She hangs herself.","She hangs herself."],["Poseidon.","Poseidon"],["She was raped by Hippolytus.","She was raped by Hippolytus"],["He forgives his father.","forgives his father"],["Aphrodite.","Aphrodite"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"Pittheus\",\n \"Pittheus\"\n ],\n [\n \"to fall in love with Hippolytus\",\n \"fall in love with Hippolytus\"\n ],\n [\n \"a servant \",\n \"A servant\"\n ],\n [\n \"young married women\",\n \"Young married women of Troezen\"\n ],\n [\n \"yield to Phaedra's desires\",\n \"yeild to Phaedras desire\"\n ],\n [\n \"she was raped by Hippolytus\",\n \"a false accusation of rape by Hippolytus\"\n ],\n [\n \"a bull\",\n \"A bull\"\n ],\n [\n \"Artemis\",\n \"Artemis\"\n ],\n [\n \"Hippolytus forgave his father\",\n \"They exchange kind words and Hippolytus forgives his father.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Troezen.\",\n \"In Peloponnese\"\n ],\n [\n \"For murdering a king and his sons.\",\n \"He murdered a local king and his sons.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Aphrodite.\",\n \"Aphrodite\"\n ],\n [\n \"Chastity.\",\n \"not to tell Phaedra's secret love of him\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because she loves Hippolytus.\",\n \"She loves Hippolytus. \"\n ],\n [\n \"She hung herself.\",\n \"She starved herself. \"\n ],\n [\n \"A letter.\",\n \"A note asserting Hippolytus raped her. \"\n ],\n [\n \"That hippolytus raped her.\",\n \"she was raped by Hippolytus\"\n ],\n [\n \"Exile.\",\n \"He is exiled. \"\n ],\n [\n \"That Phaedra lied about the rape.\",\n \"That Hippolytus is innocent.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Peloponnese\",\n \"Peloponnese\"\n ],\n [\n \"Theseus.\",\n \"Theseus\"\n ],\n [\n \"He murdered a local king and his sons.\",\n \"For murdering a king and his sons.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Phaedra lied.\",\n \"That his son is innocent of rape and that Phaedra lied.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because she is in love with Hippolytus.\",\n \"Because she loves Hippolytus\"\n ],\n [\n \"She hangs herself.\",\n \"She hangs herself.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Poseidon.\",\n \"Poseidon\"\n ],\n [\n \"She was raped by Hippolytus.\",\n \"She was raped by Hippolytus\"\n ],\n [\n \"He forgives his father.\",\n \"forgives his father\"\n ],\n [\n \"Aphrodite.\",\n \"Aphrodite\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"d97f8275d21db225fc1b796ca1e0d22447ce3937"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":32,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\n blood curiously, feeling no pain.\n\n RENARD\n A man tires of being executed.\n\n As Bond screws a silencer onto the muzzle of his gun:\n\n RENARD\n But then again...There is no point in\n living if you can't...feel alive.\n\n Bond knows that, he's heard it somewhere before...IT FREEZES\n HIM","is the\n hottest.\n\n Renard touches the glass well of oil.\n\n RENARD\n The temperature is close to five hundred\n degrees.\n\n Renard uses his knife and POPS the seal from the lamp,\n removing the well of oil...a DROP of the hot oil FALLS ON HIS\n HAND and SINGES IT BLACK in an instant...\n\n Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\n to placate...\n\n DAVIDOV\n ","?\n\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\n Tormented.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n Now she runs the ice down her neck...\n\n ELEKTRA\n But surely...\n\n ...her fingers becoming wet, she runs the ice down between\n her breasts, leaving a trail. Teasing...\n\n ELEKTRA\n ...You can feel this?\n\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\n open, enjoying"," Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\n to placate...\n\n DAVIDOV\n The plane...it's all been arranged...\n\n RENARD\n Then you are completely unnecessary...\n\n Renard raises the container of oil over Davidov's head:\n\n DAVIDOV\n I have the documents, the landing\n authorizations, the security passes...\n\n Renard stops, the oil tilted, just ready to pour...\n\n His dead eye...has it drooped","\n It throbs and shifts with the slightest facial expression,\n like an insect living just beneath his skin. One EYE seems\n slightly drooping, deadened. The other eye is sharp and black\n as anthracite. It is a frightening face. This is RENARD.\n\n RENARD\n What's his name? Our friend from MI-6?\n\n CIGAR GIRL\n James Bond.\n\n RENARD\n One of M's more accomplished tin\n soldiers.\n\n ","\n RENARD\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\n get on my knees and pray for it. You, on\n the other hand, you have something to\n live for, no?\n (closer now)\n She's beautiful isn't she? You should\n have seen her before. Flawless, and still\n so innocent, not such a whore in bed...\n\n Bond's eyes flare in fury. He shoves Renard into the wall\n and presses the gun to his","\n hand.\n\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n Elektra comes to him. Leads him to the bed. Sits. Gently\n removes the splinter. Then, she takes an icecube from the\n bucket. Runs it along his wound.\n\n ELEKTRA\n What about this?\n\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\n Tormented.\n\n REN",")\n Take him away, I don't want him around as\n we move the bomb.\n (whispered, to Bond)\n You had me. I knew you couldn't shoulder\n the responsibility...\n\n And Renard jams his hand onto Bond's shoulder, squeezing his\n collar-bone hard... Pain jolts through Bond, he drops to his\n knees in agony. He shoves Bond down. Bond's hand goes to his\n shoulder, his mind now racing -- how did he know to hurt him","\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\n out the images. After a moment, he SMASHES HIS FIST through\n the hand-painted wood. Elektra looks up.\n\n HER P.O.V. A huge splinter of wood juts out of Renard's\n hand.\n\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n ","\n RENARD\n It's I who should thank you -- for taking\n that money back to MI-6. So distressing\n for M. An explosion inside her lair.\n\n BOND\n She'll get over it.\n\n RENARD\n You even brought the plane for us. We\n really couldn't have done it without you.\n\n Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\n blood"," INT. SALON PRIVE\n\n The HENCHMAN holds Davidov against the wall with his huge\n fist around his neck. Near his head, the live flame of a\n SCONCE hisses, burning blue and yellow, drawing their fuel\n from the glass basin of hot oil attached beneath it.\n\n The HOOKER, obviously one of Renard's gang, has finished\n donning her khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\n onto her shoulder.\n\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\n","\n Should be dead as well. Your failure\n today is astonishing. It is a disgrace.\n\n He approaches close to him, stopping at the flaming SCONCE\n near his head.\n\n RENARD\n Do you know why the color is blue at the\n wick?\n\n Davidov starts to sweat.\n\n RENARD\n Because that is where the flame is the\n hottest.\n\n Renard touches the glass well of oil.\n\n RENARD\n The temperature is","elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room.\n\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You're hurting me.\n\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\n hide it.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Brought me something?\n\n He smiles, gr","in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\n\n Renard disembarks with several of his retinue, heavily laden\n with bags and cases. They enter the tower...\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - CONTINUOUS\n\n A fantastic space: stained glass windows cast myriad\n patterns over elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room"," (beat)\n That bullet is still there.\n\n Bond moves toward the ghostly Renard. We now see THE BULLET\n INSIDE HIS SKULL.\n\n BOND\n He survived?\n\n M\n The doctor who saved him couldn't get it\n out, so Renard killed him. When Interpol\n found the x-rays, there was mild\n jubilation. Effectively, he's a dead man.\n\n She presses a button, the hologram turns...\n\n"," AT THE ELEVATOR\n\n Bond fires at Renard, hitting his shin...\n\n WITH RENARD\n\n looking down at his shin, noticing the blood. Inconvenienced\n but not in pain. He shuts the cage doors. Pauses only to\n fire off half a clip at the SWITCH PANEL. Shreds it.\n\n Bond leaps to his feet, racing forward, firing -- gets to the\n elevator as Renard disappears upwards with a smile. He POINTS\n","khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\n onto her shoulder.\n\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\n\n RENARD\n Is this how you spend the money I pay\n you? And with the rest you hire fools who\n shoot like blind men?\n\n DAVIDOV\n (croaks out)\n Bond...\n\n RENARD\n Should be dead as well. Your failure\n today is astonishing. It is a disgrace.\n\n He approaches close to","she used all that brilliance to get\n revenge on her father, on me.\n\n RENARD\n No. I wanted you. I wanted you for\n myself.\n\n He takes something out of his pocket. A small TRAVEL CLOCK.\n He sets it.\n\n RENARD\n Since you sent your man to kill me, I\n have been watching time tick slowly away,\n marching inevitably toward my own death.\n Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow,\n your time is up. And I","back.\n\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\n\n M\n She's insane. Is that what you did to\n her?\n\n RENARD\n No. I'm afraid it is what you did.\n\n He crosses close to the bars.\n\n RENARD\n When I took her she was...promise itself.\n So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\n force. And you left her there, at the\n mercy of a man like me","picks it up and PUTS IT ON HIS HEAD.\n\n RENARD\n We'll be underway in two hours. Use that\n time to re-familiarize yourselves with\n your stations. Then ponder how rich\n you'll be. The re-breathers for the\n escape are already on board.\n\n A man appears holding a heavy lead box containing the\n plutonium. Renard takes the box as if it weighs nothing.\n Stronger then ever.\n\n C"],["\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\n trying to kill me?\n\n BOND\n You can drop the act, it's over.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I don't know what you're talking about!\n\n BOND\n I think you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd"," ELEKTRA\n He's struck again.\n (beat)\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\n\n He moves toward her.\n\n BOND\n I'm coming with you.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You do what you have to do, but I've\n called in M. She's en route from London\n even now.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\n\n",".\n\n ELEKTRA\n They were digging near here and they\n found some very pretty vases. They also\n found this...\n (meaning the garotte)\n I think we ignore the old ways at our\n peril, don't you?\n\n Bond recoils as she fastens the collar... She steps back.\n\n BOND\n (ignoring her)\n Where's M?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\n\n Bond","\n\n BOND\n The amount of money that killed Robert\n King is the same amount as the ransom\n demand for Elektra.\n\n He hands her a slip of paper.\n\n BOND\n Whoever kidnapped Elektra is the same man\n who killed her father.\n\n M looks at the paper, a long time.\n\n M\n It's a message. He wants us to know he's\n back.\n\n BOND\n Who?\n\n "," ELEKTRA\n James. You can't kill me. Not in cold\n blood.\n\n But Bond isn't wavering. Clutches Zukovsky's bloody wet gun.\n\n He heads up in the semi-darkness -- and suddenly swings to\n his right, at an unexpected but familiar Voice:\n\n M\n Bond --\n\n Bond kicks open a door and enters...\n\n M'S PRISON ROOM\n\n He fires at the lock on her cell door and f","me.\n\n She walks away, the wind pressing her dress against her\n delicate figure. She looks brave and vulnerable as she walks\n back toward her father's grand house.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n INT. LIMOUSINE - TRAVELING - DAY\n\n M, Bond and Tanner in the rear of a limousine. The vehicle\n swoops through the epic countryside of the Scottish\n Highlands.\n\n M\n Elektra? Running King Industries?\n (she bro","wants to kill me, I'd rather die\n looking him straight in the eye.\n (lightly)\n What are you doing here? Looking for a\n woman a little more your type? How about\n that one?\n\n She points to a SHOW GIRL in a feather headdress and pasties.\n\n BOND\n If this little show is for my benefit,\n I'll take you home right now.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You had your chance, James. Now I'm\n ","is right there to take her\n order.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Vodka martini.\n\n BOND\n Two. Shaken not stirred.\n\n He leans in, smiling his charming smile as he says:\n\n BOND\n What the hell are you doing here?\n\n ELEKTRA\n (smiling right back)\n Someone wants to kill me, I'd rather die\n looking him straight in the eye.\n (lightly)\n What are you doing","if they're coming for\n you, if anyone will ever come for you.\n\n M\n Someone will come.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Who? Bond? Bond is dead.\n\n Elektra walks to the window. She looks out.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Somehow, I find that strangely\n ...disappointing.\n\n M watches her, her heart beating.\n\n M\n Elektra. What time is it?\n\n Elektra picks up the little clock","ovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\n further, staring at Bond...\n\n A look passes between the two men. Comrades in arms. The\n merest of smiles. Then the light fades from his eyes. Dead.\n\n ELEKTRA\n\n turns back to Bond. Smiles.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Excuse me.\n\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:","you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Syndrome.\n It's common in kidnappings. A young\n impressionable victim. Sheltered,\n sexually inexperienced. A powerful\n kidnapper skilled in torture, in\n manipulation. Something snaps in the\n victim's mind. The captive falls in love\n with her captor.\n\n At the word \"love,\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an","go ahead and place these\n orders, and get the jeep ready. I will go\n to Ruan myself...\n\n DAVIDOV\n Miss King, I wouldn't recommend...\n\n ELEKTRA\n I said, I will go.\n\n She signs some documents and the men file out. She gets up,\n turning her back to Bond, hands on her hips.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Would you excuse us, Davidov?\n\n Davidov nods and leaves. Elektra still keeps her back turned","What's your business with Elektra King?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n I thought you were the one in her\n business.\n\n BOND\n She dropped a million and half dollars to\n the House -- your House. And you didn't\n even bat an eyelid. She was paying you\n off. What for?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n As ever you are the spy who has to see a\n plot wherever he looks.\n\n Bond SLAMS Zukovsky","?\n\n He nods. He is wound tight, she senses it.\n\n BOND\n I can't stay.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I know.\n\n A moment.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I need to ask you something. And I need\n you to tell me the truth.\n\n He waits.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Who is it? Who is trying to kill me?\n\n Bond looks at her; vulnerable, fragile, trying to be strong.","TRA\n Who is it? Who is trying to kill me?\n\n Bond looks at her; vulnerable, fragile, trying to be strong.\n He cannot tell her the truth.\n\n BOND\n I don't know. But I will find him.\n\n She stares at him, sensing he is withholding something. She\n turns back to the window.\n\n He approaches behind her.\n\n ELEKTRA\n After the kidnapping...I was afraid to go\n outside, to be alone, to be in"," But you would have something to gain by\n killing Robert King. And stopping his\n pipeline.\n\n This hits Zukovsky. He closes down. A chill between them.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Poor Bond. The cold war is over. What\n have you got left? Economic espionage.\n Murder in the boardroom. So dull.\n\n Bond's eyes catch something, someone entering the casino.\n\n HIS POV: ELEKTRA...more vibrant than we have ever seen her","ances at\n Zukovsky's corpse. Slightly puzzled, to Bond:\n\n ELEKTRA\n Zukovsky really hated you.\n (beat)\n Time to say goodnight.\n\n And she kisses him -- reaches behind to deliver the killer\n twist...\n\n One super-fast movement:\n\n Bond's hand breaks free, grabs her throat, tight. He holds\n her, their faces close together, disdain in his eyes -- hurls\n her backwards, her hand","\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\n\n ELEKTRA\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\n\n BOND\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\n what's the point of living if you can't\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\n Isn't that your motto?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n Or did you steal it from your","E (MI-6 HQ) - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bond opens the door on M who stands alone by the window,\n looking out at the long shadows on the moors.\n\n BOND\n Tell me about the kidnapping of Elektra\n King.\n\n She turns, her brow furrowing.\n\n M\n Who told you to look at Elektra's files?\n\n BOND\n I took the initiative.\n\n M\n You haven't been given an assignment","Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\n carved chair, covered in silk.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to guards)\n Take her to Renard.\n\n Bond and Christmas exchange a look as the guards start her\n towards some steps.\n\n Elektra indicates for him to sit. Behind him, the whole of\n Istanbul is visible through a large curved window.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\n\n Bond ignores her.\n\n"],[" They're\n following a huge pipeline, passing a blighted petrified\n forest of twisted iron: derelict oil derricks.\n\n Elektra gestures at the oil fields they're now leaving\n behind. Receding into the distance, a DELTA OF ROADWAYS\n perched on rusting stilts juts out into the sea.\n\n ELEKTRA\n My mother's people discovered oil here\n ninety years ago. The Bolsheviks\n slaughtered them for it.","TRA\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\n\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gazing out\n at this spectacular cradle of civilization. Bond works his\n wristbinds feverishly.\n\n ELEKTRA\n It runs in my veins, thicker than blood.\n I'm going to redraw the map.\n And when I am through the whole world\n will know my name, my grandfather's name,\n the glory of my people.\n\n B","oil than anyone thought.\n\n ROBINSON\n Latest estimates, six trillion dollars.\n It'll make the Gulf look like a puddle,\n see us right through the new century.\n The problem is getting the oil out of\n there.\n\n M\n There are four pipelines in the works.\n Three to the Black Sea, shipping out\n through the Bosphorus. All vulnerable to\n unstable governments or Russian blockade.\n\n BOND\n So Sir Robert's goes through Turkey,","Davidov and Gabor scanning the area as well. Elektra\n speaks to the foreman.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Send the pipe around.\n\n FOREMAN\n It will take weeks, cost millions.\n Your father approved this route.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Then my father was wrong.\n\n The first time Elektra has asserted her own authority. The\n foreman is surprised, angry. But he doesn't question her.\n\n She moves toward the helicopter, says to Bond:","to it. Now we have a second\n chance and this time we'll do it right.\n When the other wells have all dried up,\n she'll still be pumping her lifeblood to\n the world. And this\n (proudly, of pipeline)\n Will be one of the main arteries...\n\n OMITTED 75-\n\n EXT. POV FROM HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n Bond and Elektra travel beside the vast pipe through\n dramatic, beautiful, sc","After an exhilarating run, she stops on the edge of a huge\n drop. Bond joins her. They look down at the snowy valley\n below. A line of survey FLAGS visible through the middle.\n\n ELEKTRA\n We're building from both ends. This is\n where they'll meet. Fifteen hundred\n miles from the Caspian to the\n Mediterranean.\n\n Bond and Elektra stand on the mountainside, feeling like the\n only two people in the world, when they hear:",".\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\n of coffee.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to Foreman)\n ...they should have been in place two\n days ago. That is the target my father\n set.\n\n FOREMAN\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\n\n ","years.\n A cloud of radiation the size of\n Europe...\n\n BOND\n (chilled)\n Because an explosion like that would kill\n all the other pipelines. There would be\n only one way to get the oil out of the\n Caspian and pump it to the world...\n\n CHRISTMAS\n The King pipeline.\n\n BOND\n Elektra would control it all.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n If what you say it true...it may be too"," ELEKTRA\n He's struck again.\n (beat)\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\n\n He moves toward her.\n\n BOND\n I'm coming with you.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You do what you have to do, but I've\n called in M. She's en route from London\n even now.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\n\n","KTRA\n You are wrong, Mr. Bond. In fact, I am\n the only person who can do it.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. JEEP, TRAVELING - OILFIELDS - DAY\n\n Elektra drives the all-terrain jeep with casual assurance.\n Bond is beside her, cold-weather gear in the back. They're\n following a huge pipeline, passing a blighted petrified\n forest of twisted iron: derelict oil d","huge SATELLITE MAP of the pipeline's meandering path.\n\n M\n A woman?\n\n But before he can speak, ELEKTRA calls out, gesturing to A\n DIM LIGHT flashing on a console in front of her.\n\n ELEKTRA\n That's not right.\n\n A Technician comes over. Tanner too, followed by Bond and M.\n\n TANNER\n What is it?\n\n ELEKTRA\n It's an observation and","BAKU - DAY\n\n Elektra works in her father's STUDY, illuminated by a halo of\n light from a single desk lamp. Pictures of her grandfather\n and father stare down at her from the walls. The wind BLOWS A\n WINDOW open.\n\n She gets up, crosses the room, shutting the window. She\n stands there, listening to the silence and then...\n\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\n\n She listens, a","it myself.\n\n She turns the screw again.\n\n BOND\n So you killed your father.\n\n ELEKTRA\n He killed me! He killed me the day he\n refused to pay my ransom.\n\n A flicker of emotion. Bond is getting to her.\n\n BOND\n Was this all about the oil?\n\n ELEKTRA\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\n\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gaz","POV FROM HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n Bond and Elektra travel beside the vast pipe through\n dramatic, beautiful, scenery...\n\n INT. HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n Davidov and Gabor, in the helicopter, watch the jeep below.\n\n EXT. CONSTRUCTION CAMP, FOOTHILLS OF THE CAUCASUS MOUNTAINS\n (CAPPADOCIA, THE VILLAGE OF ZELVE) - DAY\n\n The jeep reaches a break in the","want to...talk to my\n father.\n (beat)\n I loved him. I'm not sure he knew that.\n\n BOND\n Is that why you want to finish the\n pipeline?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Partially, yes.\n\n Her muscleman BODY GUARD appears, says briefly:\n\n GABOR\n The jeep is ready, Ma'am. Will I be\n driving with you?\n\n ELEKTRA\n No, Gabor","TRA\n My mother's people discovered oil here\n ninety years ago. The Bolsheviks\n slaughtered them for it.\n (beat)\n Some say oil is in my family's blood. I\n say our blood is in the oil. This is the\n very heart of the planet. Up here in the\n hills was Eden, literally. Look what the\n Russians did to it. Now we have a second\n chance and this time we'll do it right.\n When the other wells have all dried"," Elektra would control it all.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n If what you say it true...it may be too\n late for Yevgeny.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n INT. SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - ISTANBUL - DAY\n\n The ancient arched underbelly of a waterside building.\n\n Something is disturbing a large expanse of water. A black\n shadow looms beneath the waves. A SUBMARINE","ABOR AND ANOTHER SECURITY MAN SHOOT M'S TWO GUARDS IN THE\n HEAD...point blank, cold blood. The men fall.\n\n M looks back at Elektra, a blood-curdling glare.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to her men)\n Take her to the chopper.\n\n EXT. PIPELINE - DAY\n\n From on high we follow the snaking pipeline ... until it\n disappears in a VAST, SMOULDERING B","at\n Elektra. But she watches him go...\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n The MI-6 helicopter swoops along the pipeline...\n\n Tanner is beside the pilot. Bond and Christmas in the back.\n\n They look at one another, the danger ahead melting the frost\n between them.\n\n INT. PIPELINE - LATER\n\n Bond and Christmas climb through an access hatch down onto\n the electric RIG. Its","to the region.\n He married into the Vavra family, rich\n local industrialists. He used those\n connections to hold it all together.\n\n BOND\n Kill the man, kill the pipeline.\n\n M\n Not necessarily. Not with Elektra taking\n over.\n\n Tanner notices a RED LIGHT start pulsing. He moves to M:\n\n TANNER\n Your call to the PM.\n\n M nods grimly. As Robinson distributes sealed envelopes:"],["Your people? Your people will leave you\n here to rot just like you left me. You\n and my father. He didn't think my life\n was worth the chump change he spent on a\n day at the stock market.\n\n M\n Your father...\n\n ELEKTRA\n Is nothing. His kingdom he stole from my\n mother. The kingdom I will rightly take\n back.\n\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\n\n M\n She's insane. ","ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\n\n RENARD\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\n dead? It's what you wanted.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (beat)\n Of course...\n\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\n\n RENARD\n He was a...good lover?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing","ays no fear. A quiet defiance burns in her.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Just as I promised.\n\n Renard steps forward. Bars separate him from M.\n\n RENARD\n My executioner.\n\n M\n Over-praise, I'm afraid. But my people\n will finish the job.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Your people? Your people will leave you\n here to rot just like you left me. You\n and my father. He didn't think my","(realizing)\n You turned Renard.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (smiling)\n Just like you...only you were even\n easier.\n\n She pulls the jewel from her ear, reveals the ugly scar:\n\n ELEKTRA\n I told him he had to hurt me, he had to\n make it look real. When he refused I told\n him I would do it myself.\n\n She turns the screw again.\n\n BOND\n So you killed your father.\n\n E","\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\n trying to kill me?\n\n BOND\n You can drop the act, it's over.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I don't know what you're talking about!\n\n BOND\n I think you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd","elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room.\n\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You're hurting me.\n\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\n hide it.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Brought me something?\n\n He smiles, gr","So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\n force. And you left her there, at the\n mercy of a man like me. You ruined her.\n For what? To get to me? She is worth\n fifty of me.\n\n M\n For once, I agree with you.\n\n He shakes his head, amused by her pluck.\n\n M\n So she used all that brilliance to get\n revenge on her father, on me.\n\n RENARD\n No. I wanted you","back.\n\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\n\n M\n She's insane. Is that what you did to\n her?\n\n RENARD\n No. I'm afraid it is what you did.\n\n He crosses close to the bars.\n\n RENARD\n When I took her she was...promise itself.\n So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\n force. And you left her there, at the\n mercy of a man like me"," The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Since I was a child, I've always had a\n power over men. When I realized my father\n wouldn't rescue me from the kidnappers, I\n knew I had to form a new alliance.\n\n BOND\n (realizing)\n You turned Renard.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (smiling)\n Just like you...","\n\n ELEKTRA\n What are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n Or did you steal it from your old friend\n Renard?\n\n ELEKTRA\n ...what?\n\n BOND\n We had a run-in, he and I. He knew about\n us, he knew about my shoulder, he knew\n exactly where to hurt me...\n\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the","TO:\n\n INT. BEDROOM - MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - NIGHT\n\n Renard and Elektra. She is on the bed, Renard stroking her,\n worshipping her skin.\n\n RENARD\n So beautiful. So smooth, so warm.\n\n ELEKTRA\n How would you know?\n\n It stings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\n\n RENARD\n Why are you like this? ",", her heart beating.\n\n M\n Elektra. What time is it?\n\n Elektra picks up the little clock. Walks over to the cell\n bars.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Time for you to die.\n\n And she reaches through the bars and HANDS M THE CLOCK.\n\n The two women's eyes meet.\n\n RENARD\n The reactor is secured.\n\n She turns, sees RENARD in the doorway. She crosses to him\n and SLAM",".\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\n of coffee.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to Foreman)\n ...they should have been in place two\n days ago. That is the target my father\n set.\n\n FOREMAN\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\n\n ","it myself.\n\n She turns the screw again.\n\n BOND\n So you killed your father.\n\n ELEKTRA\n He killed me! He killed me the day he\n refused to pay my ransom.\n\n A flicker of emotion. Bond is getting to her.\n\n BOND\n Was this all about the oil?\n\n ELEKTRA\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\n\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gaz","?\n\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\n Tormented.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n Now she runs the ice down her neck...\n\n ELEKTRA\n But surely...\n\n ...her fingers becoming wet, she runs the ice down between\n her breasts, leaving a trail. Teasing...\n\n ELEKTRA\n ...You can feel this?\n\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\n open, enjoying","she used all that brilliance to get\n revenge on her father, on me.\n\n RENARD\n No. I wanted you. I wanted you for\n myself.\n\n He takes something out of his pocket. A small TRAVEL CLOCK.\n He sets it.\n\n RENARD\n Since you sent your man to kill me, I\n have been watching time tick slowly away,\n marching inevitably toward my own death.\n Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow,\n your time is up. And I",". She tries to\n hide it.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Brought me something?\n\n He smiles, grabs a case off one of his men, opens it up,\n pulls out a sphere of cobalt blue metal.\n\n She looks at it with wary fascination.\n\n RENARD\n Go on. It's safe. Touch your destiny.\n\n She traces a finger along the metal. A flicker of wonder:\n\n ELEKTRA\n Warm.\n\n","\n hand.\n\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n Elektra comes to him. Leads him to the bed. Sits. Gently\n removes the splinter. Then, she takes an icecube from the\n bucket. Runs it along his wound.\n\n ELEKTRA\n What about this?\n\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\n Tormented.\n\n REN","ELEKTRA\n Would you excuse us, Davidov?\n\n Davidov nods and leaves. Elektra still keeps her back turned,\n but he can see her physically change, her shoulders sag, her\n arms cross in front of her. When she finds her voice, it has\n a gravelly sound of emotion.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I met you at my father's funeral.\n\n BOND\n Yes.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I haven't been able to recall a single\n ","\n BOND\n Yes.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I haven't been able to recall a single\n moment of that day...until now.\n\n BOND\n Funerals aren't exactly memorable.\n\n ELEKTRA\n God no. All those horrible loved ones and\n relatives. I don't want to talk to those\n people. I just want to...talk to my\n father.\n (beat)\n I loved him. I'm not sure he knew that."],["\n\n Something is disturbing a large expanse of water. A black\n shadow looms beneath the waves. A SUBMARINE SURFACES.\n\n INT. SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - ISTANBUL - DAY\n\n Waiting at the newly excavated quay: Renard and his men.\n\n The submarine's hatch opens. A YOUTHFUL CAPTAIN EMERGES,\n vaguely resembling his uncle, Z"," Everything not screwed\n down starts sliding...\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS - LONG SHOT\n\n The submarine is tilting, further and further, the nose\n dropping down and down...\n\n Pretty soon we have the strange and incredible sight of a\n submarine hanging vertically, nose down.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER, SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n Renard hangs on, swings, until he can get a footing on the\n nearest","hew, he is\n Captain of a sub in the Black Sea Fleet.\n\n BOND\n Where's the sub going?!\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n No! Get me out!\n\n BOND\n This is too big for even you. Where is\n it?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n This is a family matter! If my nephew is\n in danger, we do it my way, or nothing!\n Now get me out!\n\n But he looks more worried than","\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n THE GAUGE IS PASSING 4900, EDGING TOWARDS THE NO-WAY-BACK\n 5000 MARK. Meltdown imminent...\n\n He looks down the sub -- more water racing upward...\n\n Back to the pile. Scans the scene, searching for an idea.\n Sees a HOSE, compressed air escaping from a fissure. Thinks\n fast. Grabs the hose,","He gets inside, yanks it closed...\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n Christmas, shivering in the rising water.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Twenty.\n\n She presses a button...\n\n INT. CHAMBER BEYOND (NOW ABOVE) REACTOR - CONTINUOUS\n\n The hatch opens and Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\n The hatch closes.\n\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here","Tanks open.\n\n But the man has stretched his hand to a fire alarm:\n\n The KLAXON RESOUNDS.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE CONTROL ROOM - CONTINUOUS\n\n Renard looks up.\n\n RENARD\n (to self)\n Bond...\n\n He flicks a switch;\n\n RENARD\n (into mic)\n Bond! You have decided to join me on this\n historic voyage. Welcome to my nuclear\n family","AME\n\n Christmas is counting.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n One, one thousand, two, one thousand...\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE - UNDERWATER\n\n It's dark out here. It would be very easy for Bond to get\n disoriented.\n\n He peers around, trying to get his bearings against the vast\n vertical whale he's swimming up.\n\n Passes the conning tower.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE\n\n CHRISTMAS\n ","up.\n\n Passes the conning tower.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Fourteen, one thousand, fifteen, one\n thousand...\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE - UNDERWATER\n\n Bond is running out of air...\n\n And then he sees it -- the open hatch of the rear escape\n door.\n\n He gets inside, yanks it closed...\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n Christmas, shivering"," To the room:\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n I'm looking for a submarine. It's big\n and black, and the driver is a friend of\n mine.\n\n Then his eye falls on the HAT Renard had brought up from\n below. He knows at once what it means.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Bring it to me.\n\n She picks it up, walks to him (surreptitiously sliding a gun\n beneath it). She proffers the hat...\n"," RENARD scans the water with night-vision binoculars.\n\n EXT. BOSPHORUS - NIGHT - HIS GREEN POV:\n\n A SUPERTANKER churns along...\n\n ADJUST ANGLE\n\n The CAMERA SINKS BENEATH THE WAVES, steals through the gloom -\n - eventually comes upon something sitting just beneath the\n belly of the tanker. The silhouette of a SUBMARINE, hugging\n the tanker'","Bond and Christmas are ahead of the water. They have reached\n a level where various systems are operated from.\n\n BOND\n There's one chance.\n\n He punches buttons.\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE, BOSPHORUS - CONTINUOUS\n\n High up on the sub, a hatch opens. Water floods into an\n escape hatch. An inner door stops it getting into the\n submarine itself.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUO","abs a ladder, pulls\n himself up.\n\n The hatch is closing... He splashes through the water\n flooding over the sub, appears in front of the amazed sailor\n shutting the hatch. WHACKS him with the hatch. Gets inside.\n Closes it. Milliseconds before the hatch slides under the\n water.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bond down below. Renard's crew are spread throughout the sub.\n He creeps through...\n\n","Alright, alright! Sometimes I smuggle\n machinery for her. Russian stuff.\n\n BOND\n And the payoff on the tables?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n A special job. A...a...a submarine.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n What?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n To haul some cargo. My nephew, he is\n Captain of a sub in the Black Sea Fleet.\n\n BOND\n Where's the sub going?!","TINUOUS\n\n Bond down below. Renard's crew are spread throughout the sub.\n He creeps through...\n\n Approaches one man working some levers, smoking. Bond holds\n his gun to his head.\n\n BOND\n How do you want to die?\n (re: cigarette)\n That?\n (re: gun)\n Or this?\n\n INT. CABIN, SUBMARINE - MOMENTS LATER\n\n A few SOLID B"," Count to twenty. I'll be there.\n\n She moves over and seals the door, wrenches a lever which\n immediately floods the chamber with water.\n\n INT. ESCAPE HATCH - CONTINUOUS\n\n Inside the chamber, Bond holds his breath as water seeps in.\n The most claustrophobic thing you've ever seen.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n A green light comes on and Christmas punches a button...\n\n EX","\n ZUKOVSKY\n In the good old days, the KGB had three\n or four spots where our submarines could\n surface without anyone knowing. But\n Yevgeny is supposed to be loading cargo.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n What class sub does your nephew run?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n C-class.\n\n BOND\n Nuclear.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Not just nuclear. Powered by a nuclear\n reactor.\n","OND\n Whoever gets there first, Zukovsky. They\n have M.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - DAY\n\n Eerie, dark, the lights inside green and sickly.\n\n CLOSE ON\n\n A half-eaten sandwich. An empty glass of brandy on the floor,\n just near the hand it fell from...\n\n PULL BACK TO SEE\n\n The dead face of Yevgeny, poisoned. Others of his crew\n"," Elektra would control it all.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n If what you say it true...it may be too\n late for Yevgeny.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n INT. SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - ISTANBUL - DAY\n\n The ancient arched underbelly of a waterside building.\n\n Something is disturbing a large expanse of water. A black\n shadow looms beneath the waves. A SUBMARINE","him, is flung back, nearly falls through\n the hatch but manages to grab a pipe, hangs on for dear life.\n\n THE GAUGE HITS 4700\n\n\n BOND AND RENARD\n\n struggle... Both slamming into switches and buttons.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n OMITTED 314-316\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n THE GAUGE IS PASSING 4900","M has seen it all.\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\n\n He moves to the ledge. Composes himself -- and\n\n DIVES ONE HUNDRED FEET to the water. Amazing.\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE, BOSPHORUS - DAY\n\n He surfaces close to the exiting sub. Grabs a ladder, pulls\n himself up.\n\n The hatch is closing... He splashes through the water\n flooding over the"],["AY\n\n Elektra has reached a balcony. It affords a spectacular view\n of Istanbul. Bond appears, has her cornered.\n\n BOND\n Call him off.\n\n He holds the walkie-talkie to her mouth.\n\n BOND\n I won't ask again. Call him off!\n\n She looks at him seriously. He's giving her a last chance,\n willing her to save herself and the city.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (into","\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\n trying to kill me?\n\n BOND\n You can drop the act, it's over.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I don't know what you're talking about!\n\n BOND\n I think you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd"," Elektra would control it all.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n If what you say it true...it may be too\n late for Yevgeny.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n INT. SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - ISTANBUL - DAY\n\n The ancient arched underbelly of a waterside building.\n\n Something is disturbing a large expanse of water. A black\n shadow looms beneath the waves. A SUBMARINE",".\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\n of coffee.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to Foreman)\n ...they should have been in place two\n days ago. That is the target my father\n set.\n\n FOREMAN\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\n\n ","wants to kill me, I'd rather die\n looking him straight in the eye.\n (lightly)\n What are you doing here? Looking for a\n woman a little more your type? How about\n that one?\n\n She points to a SHOW GIRL in a feather headdress and pasties.\n\n BOND\n If this little show is for my benefit,\n I'll take you home right now.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You had your chance, James. Now I'm\n ","it myself.\n\n She turns the screw again.\n\n BOND\n So you killed your father.\n\n ELEKTRA\n He killed me! He killed me the day he\n refused to pay my ransom.\n\n A flicker of emotion. Bond is getting to her.\n\n BOND\n Was this all about the oil?\n\n ELEKTRA\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\n\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gaz","Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\n carved chair, covered in silk.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to guards)\n Take her to Renard.\n\n Bond and Christmas exchange a look as the guards start her\n towards some steps.\n\n Elektra indicates for him to sit. Behind him, the whole of\n Istanbul is visible through a large curved window.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\n\n Bond ignores her.\n\n","'s giving her a last chance,\n willing her to save herself and the city.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (into walkie-talkie)\n Renard.\n\n Bond waits...\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to Bond)\n You wouldn't kill me. You'd miss me.\n\n And her face breaks into a perverted grin and --\n\n ELEKTRA\n (into walkie-talkie)\n Dive! Bond --\n\n BLAM!","I am through the whole world\n will know my name, my grandfather's name,\n the glory of my people.\n\n BOND\n No-one will believe this melt-down was an\n accident.\n\n She eyes him, impressed that he's worked out her plan.\n Tightens the screw again. Her confidence amazing.\n\n ELEKTRA\n They will believe. They will all\n believe.\n\n Tightening the screw again:\n\n ELEKTRA\n You understand? Nobody"," ELEKTRA\n He's struck again.\n (beat)\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\n\n He moves toward her.\n\n BOND\n I'm coming with you.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You do what you have to do, but I've\n called in M. She's en route from London\n even now.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\n\n","\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\n\n ELEKTRA\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\n\n BOND\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\n what's the point of living if you can't\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\n Isn't that your motto?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n Or did you steal it from your","\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\n HER POV:\n\n Big, battered and bloody, Valentin Zukovsky is leaving a\n boat, moving over the rocks toward the entrance with three of\n his men. Two bodies in his trail. He's on course for\n Elektra and nothing is going to stop him, even as his\n henchmen are cut down by feroc","it up\n like a terrorist attack. The explosion\n covers up the theft of the plutonium.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Who's she?\n\n BOND\n Elektra King.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Elektra King? Are you insane? This is\n her pipeline.\n\n BOND\n Makes her look even more innocent.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n (skeptical)\n What would she want with weapons grade\n","TRA\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\n\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gazing out\n at this spectacular cradle of civilization. Bond works his\n wristbinds feverishly.\n\n ELEKTRA\n It runs in my veins, thicker than blood.\n I'm going to redraw the map.\n And when I am through the whole world\n will know my name, my grandfather's name,\n the glory of my people.\n\n B",". It's\n an exact duplicate. Inside is a tiny\n electrical detonator. We have reason to\n believe the assassin had an inside\n accomplice, someone who worked at this\n company.\n\n ELEKTRA\n If you've come here to look after me, Mr.\n Bond, thank you, but no thank you. I\n have two bodyguards, I don't need a\n third...\n\n She starts to walk out. He follows her...\n\n EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE","ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\n\n RENARD\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\n dead? It's what you wanted.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (beat)\n Of course...\n\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\n\n RENARD\n He was a...good lover?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing","BAKU - DAY\n\n Elektra works in her father's STUDY, illuminated by a halo of\n light from a single desk lamp. Pictures of her grandfather\n and father stare down at her from the walls. The wind BLOWS A\n WINDOW open.\n\n She gets up, crosses the room, shutting the window. She\n stands there, listening to the silence and then...\n\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\n\n She listens, a"," It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\n of his life.\n\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in his eyes, with a sad half-\n smile that unsettles him.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you trying to break my heart? Or is\n it just your way with women?\n\n BOND\n It's not the pin your father wore. It's\n an exact duplicate. Inside is a tiny\n electrical detonator. We have reason to\n believe the assassin had","ive falls in love\n with her captor.\n\n At the word \"love,\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\n unsuspecting Bond hard across the face.\n\n ELEKTRA\n How dare you! How dare you! That\n animal!? That monster!? He disgusts me!\n You disgust me! So he knew where to hurt\n you, is that it? You had a sling on your\n arm at the funeral! I didn't have to\n sleep with you to find that"," She drops her head back on the wall. She will not sleep\n tonight.\n\n DISSOLVE TO:\n\n OMITTED: 236 - 243\n\n EXT. ISTANBUL - DAWN\n\n ESTABLISH the vast city astride the Bosphorus.\n\n EXT. ISTANBUL STREETS - SAME\n\n The sun starting to rise. Street vendors are the only people\n about, moving their carts into place, getting ready to"],["blow with his feet. Both rigs moving together now, he CLIMBS\n ONTO THE BOMB RIG...Puts out a hand, helps Christmas across.\n\n The bomb sits there, daunting, deadly.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Tactical fission device. Low yield.\n\n They look at one another, then set straight to work.\n\n INT. COMMAND ROOM - PIPELINE CONTROL CENTRE - CONTINUOUS\n\n The room is quiet, tense. M and","to his feet, pulls her up. They run like hell for\n the hatch, into the darkness...\n\n EXT. PIPELINE - DAY\n\n The pipeline. A long beat, then...\n\n KABOOM!! A section of the pipe explodes, debris rocketing in\n every direction.\n\n As the smoke clears we see a fifty yard section of pipe has\n been destroyed.\n\n OMIT 223\n\n INT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER - SAME\n\n On the cons","0:43... Makes a decision.\n\n BOND\n Let it blow.\n\n Christmas shoots a look, astonished.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n But we can stop it.\n\n Taking her arm...\n\n BOND\n Let it blow.\n\n She can't believe what he's saying. His eyes shoot to an\n INSPECTION HATCH the lights illuminate up ahead.\n\n BOND\n Trust me. Leave it.\n\n He grabs",", yanks a PISTOL from his holster, GRABS Christmas,\n LEAPS down into the bomb PIT just as\n\n RENARD'S MEN open fire... Akakievich dies straight away. So\n do two of his men. The gunfire RICOCHETS around the chamber\n and ceases.\n\n Renard hangs back. His radio crackles a message:\n\n RENARD\n (nods, into radio)\n Shut them.\n\n THE GUY ON","Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\n The hatch closes.\n\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here. Bond looks down at\n the sealed door of the reactor chamber, curses.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bathed in the horrible light of the over-heating reactor,\n Renard looks upwards, aware of sounds on the other side of\n the door...\n\n KER-BLAM! A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT.","off the missile toward the\n disappearing Chopper One.\n\n EXT. CHOPPER\n\n A DIRECT HIT. Chopper One explodes and falls onto the walkway\n setting the scene ablaze.\n\n EXT. WALKWAYS - SAME\n\n Zukovsky and Christmas see the explosion, then see Chopper\n Two dropped FOUR ARMED MEN onto a nearby walkway. The men\n make their way toward the factory, firing at the guards.\n Zukovsky and Christmas are","It is the beginning. The world will\n never be the same.\n\n He lays the Captain's hat down. Tries to mask his sorrow.\n\n RENARD\n It will be yours, and yours alone. Have\n fun with it.\n\n Forces himself to leave, heads down the stairs.\n\n INT. M'S CELL - SAME\n\n M works quickly. She pops open the back of the clock and\n takes out the batteries. She pries off the tops with a key\n and connects the","The scream, like a wounded animal, echoes throughout the\n doomed craft.\n\n BACK ON RENARD, gasping, spent.\n\n RENARD\n You will die for this.\n\n He strides through to the\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER\n\n Jams shut the hatch behind him. Now moves through to the\n\n INT. CHAMBER BEYOND REACTOR\n\n Where he picks up the PLUTONIUM. Moves back into the\n\n INT. REACTOR",".\n\n OMIT 223\n\n INT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER - SAME\n\n On the consoles, red concentric circles pulse outward from\n the point of impact, emitting one, monotone BEEP....\n\n The watchers are frozen, stunned, shocked. Gabor, a radio\n earpiece in his ear, reports information.\n\n GABOR\n It wasn't nuclear...the bomb was a dud.\n The trigger charge blew out a fifty yard\n section of pipeline","now above him...the chopper's relentless saws CUT\n THROUGH THE PIPE...GAS JETS OUT...Bond HURLS HIMSELF up a\n stairway.\n\n INT. CAVIAR FISHERY\n\n Zukovsky and Christmas watch in horror as Chopper One blades\n away more roof above them.\n\n EXT. LOWER WALKWAY\n\n Bond takes something out of his pocket, a remote control\n device...he presses some buttons...HIS C","aps to his feet, racing forward, firing -- gets to the\n elevator as Renard disappears upwards with a smile. He POINTS\n DOWN...underneath him...\n\n Bond looks down.\n\n HIS P.O.V. BENEATH THE ELEVATOR...A makeshift explosive\n device...sticks of dynamite wrapped around a detonator, set\n to explode\n\n Eyes wide, Bond looks back to the doors -- then to the switch\n panel -- now just a chaos of sparking wires.","!\n\n BOND\n Then it's no longer a bomb?\n\n CHRISTMAS\n (back to work, urgent)\n It's a bomb alright. We're still dead if\n the trigger charge goes off...\n\n Bond's mind races in the ghostly light of the tunnel.\n\n He stares at the timer: 0:44, 0:43... Makes a decision.\n\n BOND\n Let it blow.\n\n Christmas shoots a look",".\n\n Bond looks at the pack he left on the ground...\n\n He grabs Christmas and HURLS HER TO THE FLOOR.\n\n KABOOM!\n\n A MASSIVE EXPLOSION rips the place apart. In half a second\n the air is thick with coloured dust and drifting clumps of\n burning silk.\n\n Bond stands. Christmas is stunned, but okay. He looks\n around at the others - few dead, all out for the count, among\n them, Zukovsky"," Sees a HOSE, compressed air escaping from a fissure. Thinks\n fast. Grabs the hose, snaps it free...\n\n RENARD\n\n is recovering, has found a FLARE GUN near him. Raises it to\n Bond...\n\n BOND'S POV\n\n in the reflection of the gauge (which is millimeters from\n 5000), we see Renard approaching from behind us...\n\n BOND jams the hose into the reactor, d","ony. He shoves Bond down. Bond's hand goes to his\n shoulder, his mind now racing -- how did he know to hurt him\n there?\n\n Renard's men start to maneuver the bomb toward the curving\n passageway. It's all too much for Colonel Akakievich:\n\n COLONEL AKAKIEVICH\n No -- the bomb does not go anywhere until\n I am satisfied. All of you to the\n surface, now...\n\n Renard stops and turns. Bond","MAYHEM. FIRE blasts out of the open doorway just as Bond\n reaches it. The STEEL DOOR flies toward him. He dives --\n\n EXT. MI-6/RIVER - CONTINUOUS\n\n The building rocks. SMOKE is pouring from a HOLE that's\n appeared in a lower tier. A wall and a section of roof gone.\n\n EXT. MI-6/RIVER - CONTINUOUS\n\n A figure staggers out, shaken. ","onto a nearby walkway. The men\n make their way toward the factory, firing at the guards.\n Zukovsky and Christmas are forced inside.\n\n ANGLE ON BOND\n\n Who sees the danger to the others and runs off along the\n walkways back to the factory. The Chopper follows him,\n shooting.\n\n Bond outruns it, until, ahead of him A GRENADE EXPLODES,\n destroying the walkway and hurling Bond into the water.\n\n EXT. FACT","INE LOWER DECK - MOMENTS LATER\n\n Bond and Christmas get attacked. A vicious, silent fight...\n Then the radio set sparks into life --\n\n RENARD\n Open the tanks.\n\n Bond is throttling the man with the cable. Speaks into the\n handset.\n\n BOND\n (disguising voice)\n Tanks open.\n\n But the man has stretched his hand to a fire alarm:\n\n The KLAXON RESOUNDS.","\n CHRISTMAS\n What the hell were you doing? You nearly\n killed us!\n\n BOND\n I did kill us. She thinks we're dead.\n And she thinks she got away with it.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n What the hell are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n It's part of some plan. She dresses it up\n like a terrorist attack. The explosion\n covers up the theft of the plutonium.\n\n CHRIST","M...THE PIT EXPLODES...\n\n INT. ELEVATOR\n\n Fire shoots up. Bond lunges to cover Christmas. As the smoke\n clears:\n\n BOND\n (finishing)\n James Bond.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. MESA - TEST FACILITY - KAZAKHSTAN - CONTINUOUS\n\n Christmas and Bond climb out of the duct. Through a cloud of\n dust he can see people running about"],["pares to turn it the last\n time...His hand strains at its binding...\n\n BOND\n One... last... screw?\n\n ELEKTRA\n (kissing his ear)\n Oh James.\n\n She begins to turn the screw...\n\n ... when SEVERAL GUNSHOTS are heard outside.\n\n Bond is on the edge of consciousness.\n\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TO",", Davidov soon joining them,\n trying to look like he hasn't been through hell. Bond\n notices the burn on his head. Davidov touches it self-\n consciously.\n\n DAVIDOV\n A little accident.\n\n BOND\n A night of burning passion?\n\n Davidov scowls at him. Bond leads Elektra away...\n\n CUT TO:\n\n A DISTANT P.O.V. FROM HIGH ABOVE.\n\n Someone watches Bond and","ignoring her)\n Where's M?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\n\n Bond keeps his cool:\n\n BOND\n All this, because you fell for Renard?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Five more turns and your neck will break.\n\n She moves to the back of the chair, twists the screw ONE\n NOTCH. The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\n\n "," ELEKTRA\n James. You can't kill me. Not in cold\n blood.\n\n But Bond isn't wavering. Clutches Zukovsky's bloody wet gun.\n\n He heads up in the semi-darkness -- and suddenly swings to\n his right, at an unexpected but familiar Voice:\n\n M\n Bond --\n\n Bond kicks open a door and enters...\n\n M'S PRISON ROOM\n\n He fires at the lock on her cell door and f",".\n\n The soldiers get into the elevator and disappear, leaving\n Bond completely ALONE.\n\n Dead silence in the shadows. Bond's in his element, that\n alert glint in his eye as he takes in his surroundings.\n\n HIS P.O.V. A long, dark corridor...leading off to a more\n open circle in the distance, lights and an ominous humming\n there.\n\n Bond starts down the passageway.\n\n INT. TEST CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\n\n Ahead","ovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\n further, staring at Bond...\n\n A look passes between the two men. Comrades in arms. The\n merest of smiles. Then the light fades from his eyes. Dead.\n\n ELEKTRA\n\n turns back to Bond. Smiles.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Excuse me.\n\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:","\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\n trying to kill me?\n\n BOND\n You can drop the act, it's over.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I don't know what you're talking about!\n\n BOND\n I think you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd","Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\n carved chair, covered in silk.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to guards)\n Take her to Renard.\n\n Bond and Christmas exchange a look as the guards start her\n towards some steps.\n\n Elektra indicates for him to sit. Behind him, the whole of\n Istanbul is visible through a large curved window.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\n\n Bond ignores her.\n\n","\n\n Bond and Elektra stand, lone figures in the perfect white.\n They hear a sound...HELICOPTER ROTORS. Rescue on its way.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. ELEKTRA'S VILLA - DAY\n\n An establishing shot of Bond's BMW parked outside the ornate\n villa on the shore of the golden Caspian.\n\n INT. ENTRANCE HALL, ELEKTRA'S VILLA - DAY\n\n Palat","Gabor opens the door. Elektra sweeps through...\n\n INT. ENTRANCE HALL, ELEKTRA'S VILLA - NIGHT\n\n Bond pauses just inside the open doorway.\n\n HIS P.O.V. Two figures in the cavernous entrance hall,\n Elektra having a brief word with Gabor, before he turns and\n exits, leaving only...\n\n ELEKTRA AND BOND.\n\n She starts upstairs, Bond's eyes locked on her body, and\n then:","IVE BODY BAGS are being carried out by soldiers. M surveys\n the scene; in an unlit corridor CHRISTMAS JONES and several\n men sweep the area with CLICKING Geiger counters.\n\n ELEKTRA is a distance away, listening to a Turkish policeman\n explain what's happening. She nods acknowledgement to M.\n\n Tanner senses that Bond wants to talk to M alone:\n\n TANNER\n I'll see how they're coming with the\n power...\n"," I'll need some help...\n\n Her IDA colleagues look sheepish. Bond moves to her.\n\n BOND\n Come on.\n\n For just a moment, Christmas looks wary:\n\n BOND\n Unless you'd like to see my ID first.\n\n She almost smiles.\n\n M nods to Tanner to follow them. Bond doesn't look at\n Elektra. But she watches him go...\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. HEL","holding\n CHRISTMAS hostage as well.\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\n\n A magnificent ornate tower in the centre of the Bosphorus.\n\n An innocent-looking launch coasts up to it. A tarp is raised\n and Bond and Christmas are revealed, hands bound. They are\n helped out, led inside by a number of henchmen.\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\n\n Elektra crosses the hallway as the doors open. Kiss"," ELEKTRA\n He's struck again.\n (beat)\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\n\n He moves toward her.\n\n BOND\n I'm coming with you.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You do what you have to do, but I've\n called in M. She's en route from London\n even now.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\n\n"," The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Since I was a child, I've always had a\n power over men. When I realized my father\n wouldn't rescue me from the kidnappers, I\n knew I had to form a new alliance.\n\n BOND\n (realizing)\n You turned Renard.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (smiling)\n Just like you...","at\n Elektra. But she watches him go...\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n The MI-6 helicopter swoops along the pipeline...\n\n Tanner is beside the pilot. Bond and Christmas in the back.\n\n They look at one another, the danger ahead melting the frost\n between them.\n\n INT. PIPELINE - LATER\n\n Bond and Christmas climb through an access hatch down onto\n the electric RIG. Its","\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\n\n Elektra crosses the hallway as the doors open. Kisses Bond\n on the cheek as she eyes Christmas.\n\n ELEKTRA\n James Bond and his amazing resurrection.\n If only you'd kept away, we might have\n met again in a few years, become lovers\n once more.\n\n Christmas eyes Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\n carved chair, covered in silk.\n\n ELEKTRA\n","amused as\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\n to shoot Bond!\n\n Bond stares back. Zukovsky's eye narrows -- trying for\n extreme accuracy...\n\n BLAM! The SHOT hits the binding at Bond's wrist. Splinters\n the wood there.\n\n ELEKTRA stares at Zukovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\n further","Finally, arrested by the strength in his eyes, she calms...\n\n EXT. MOUNTAINS - MOMENTS LATER\n\n A beautiful expanse of smooth virgin snow. All is quiet.\n CLOSER\n\n Bond's fist PUNCHES through the white. He pulls the snow\n away, climbs out. Leans in, lifts Elektra out.\n\n Bond and Elektra stand, lone figures in the perfect white.\n They hear a sound...HELICOPTER ROTORS","WY WASTES. It reaches a mountain\n peak, hovers. The wind is strong, buffeting.\n\n Elektra and Bond are both now in ski suits, Bond wearing a\n sleek black jacket.\n\n PILOT\n Can't land. Wind's too strong!\n\n ELEKTRA\n Just hold her steady.\n (to Bond)\n You wanted to see it.\n\n She steps into her skis, opens the door. Wind rushes in.\n\n EXT."],["\n RENARD\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\n get on my knees and pray for it. You, on\n the other hand, you have something to\n live for, no?\n (closer now)\n She's beautiful isn't she? You should\n have seen her before. Flawless, and still\n so innocent, not such a whore in bed...\n\n Bond's eyes flare in fury. He shoves Renard into the wall\n and presses the gun to his"," Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\n to placate...\n\n DAVIDOV\n The plane...it's all been arranged...\n\n RENARD\n Then you are completely unnecessary...\n\n Renard raises the container of oil over Davidov's head:\n\n DAVIDOV\n I have the documents, the landing\n authorizations, the security passes...\n\n Renard stops, the oil tilted, just ready to pour...\n\n His dead eye...has it drooped","\n RENARD\n It's I who should thank you -- for taking\n that money back to MI-6. So distressing\n for M. An explosion inside her lair.\n\n BOND\n She'll get over it.\n\n RENARD\n You even brought the plane for us. We\n really couldn't have done it without you.\n\n Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\n blood","The scream, like a wounded animal, echoes throughout the\n doomed craft.\n\n BACK ON RENARD, gasping, spent.\n\n RENARD\n You will die for this.\n\n He strides through to the\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER\n\n Jams shut the hatch behind him. Now moves through to the\n\n INT. CHAMBER BEYOND REACTOR\n\n Where he picks up the PLUTONIUM. Moves back into the\n\n INT. REACTOR","...\n\n PULL BACK TO SEE\n\n The dead face of Yevgeny, poisoned. Others of his crew\n around, also dead.\n\n Renard and his men tour the grisly scene.\n\n RENARD\n Take them up and throw them in the sea.\n\n As they drag Yevgeny away, his HAT falls on the ground.\n Renard picks it up and PUTS IT ON HIS HEAD.\n\n RENARD\n We'll be underway in two hours","she used all that brilliance to get\n revenge on her father, on me.\n\n RENARD\n No. I wanted you. I wanted you for\n myself.\n\n He takes something out of his pocket. A small TRAVEL CLOCK.\n He sets it.\n\n RENARD\n Since you sent your man to kill me, I\n have been watching time tick slowly away,\n marching inevitably toward my own death.\n Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow,\n your time is up. And I","Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\n The hatch closes.\n\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here. Bond looks down at\n the sealed door of the reactor chamber, curses.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bathed in the horrible light of the over-heating reactor,\n Renard looks upwards, aware of sounds on the other side of\n the door...\n\n KER-BLAM! A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT."," INT. SALON PRIVE\n\n The HENCHMAN holds Davidov against the wall with his huge\n fist around his neck. Near his head, the live flame of a\n SCONCE hisses, burning blue and yellow, drawing their fuel\n from the glass basin of hot oil attached beneath it.\n\n The HOOKER, obviously one of Renard's gang, has finished\n donning her khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\n onto her shoulder.\n\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\n",", yanks a PISTOL from his holster, GRABS Christmas,\n LEAPS down into the bomb PIT just as\n\n RENARD'S MEN open fire... Akakievich dies straight away. So\n do two of his men. The gunfire RICOCHETS around the chamber\n and ceases.\n\n Renard hangs back. His radio crackles a message:\n\n RENARD\n (nods, into radio)\n Shut them.\n\n THE GUY ON","\n It throbs and shifts with the slightest facial expression,\n like an insect living just beneath his skin. One EYE seems\n slightly drooping, deadened. The other eye is sharp and black\n as anthracite. It is a frightening face. This is RENARD.\n\n RENARD\n What's his name? Our friend from MI-6?\n\n CIGAR GIRL\n James Bond.\n\n RENARD\n One of M's more accomplished tin\n soldiers.\n\n "," it...the man slips it into his pocket.\n\n BOND\n Revenge isn't so hard to fathom. What's\n clever is getting someone else to pay for\n it.\n\n RENARD\n Not many people in this world have that\n kind of fortune.\n\n Bond cocks the pistol.\n\n BOND\n Who is it?\n\n RENARD\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\n get on my knees and pray for it. You,"," 5000), we see Renard approaching from behind us...\n\n BOND jams the hose into the reactor, ducks down -- as the air\n blows the rod out - narrowly missing him as it shoots past --\n impales Renard in the heart, just before he could shoot.\n\n Renard stares at Bond in horror. Bond calmly takes the flare\n gun off him.\n\n BOND\n She's waiting for you.\n\n And he lets him fall past Christmas, through consecutive open","in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\n\n Renard disembarks with several of his retinue, heavily laden\n with bags and cases. They enter the tower...\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - CONTINUOUS\n\n A fantastic space: stained glass windows cast myriad\n patterns over elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room",". Then, he comes\n to notice a figure, across the expanse of the pit, on the\n opposite side of the catwalk, a man, with his back to him, in\n Russian Army fatigues.\n\n BOND\n Corporal?\n\n The man turns...\n\n IT IS RENARD.\n\n He smiles.\n\n RENARD\n I see my friend Davidov ran into some\n difficulty.\n\n BOND\n Indeed.\n\n Renard starts toward him. Bond draws","elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room.\n\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You're hurting me.\n\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\n hide it.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Brought me something?\n\n He smiles, gr","Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\n blood curiously, feeling no pain.\n\n RENARD\n A man tires of being executed.\n\n As Bond screws a silencer onto the muzzle of his gun:\n\n RENARD\n But then again...There is no point in\n living if you can't...feel alive.\n\n Bond knows that, he's heard it somewhere before...IT FREEZES\n HIM","khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\n onto her shoulder.\n\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\n\n RENARD\n Is this how you spend the money I pay\n you? And with the rest you hire fools who\n shoot like blind men?\n\n DAVIDOV\n (croaks out)\n Bond...\n\n RENARD\n Should be dead as well. Your failure\n today is astonishing. It is a disgrace.\n\n He approaches close to","ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\n\n RENARD\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\n dead? It's what you wanted.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (beat)\n Of course...\n\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\n\n RENARD\n He was a...good lover?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing",". PASSAGEWAY\n\n WITH BOND as the bullets cease with a loud CLICK... What\n Bond was waiting for. He moves. The gunman frozen in the\n light, grappling to fit another clip --\n\n BLAM! He goes down. Bond not wasting bullets.\n\n INT. OTHER END OF PASSAGEWAY\n\n Renard is loading the bomb it into the ELEVATOR. He flicks a\n switch on the panel by the elevator. The IRIS starts closing\n on Bond","on top, or not on top?\n\n DAVIDOV\n On top.\n\n She slowly pulls a pair of SILK ROPES out from her bra and\n DANGLES THEM.\n\n HOOKER\n Tied up, or not tied up?\n\n Davidov smiles, struggling with his belt. He looks down,\n gets it, looks up...his heart stops...it is not the hooker in\n the mirror but...\n\n RENARD'S FRIGHTENING FACE.\n\n David"],["procedure, Mr. Bond,\n but you understand, a man in my\n position..\n\n BOND\n Which is neutral, no doubt.\n\n Lachaise takes the joke a little tight-lipped. Gestures for\n Bond to sit.\n\n A GIRL ENTERS, a gorgeous Swiss bombshell in a pin-striped\n suit. She pushes a cart. On it are a BRIEFCASE and a box of\n EXPENSIVE CIGARS, which she offers to Lachaise and Bond","source.\n\n INT. HALLWAY OFFICE BUILDING - DAY\n\n An engraved brass plaque announcing the name of the \"private\n banking institute\" within.\n\n INT. PENTHOUSE BANK OFFICE - GENEVA - DAY\n\n JAMES BOND, dressed impeccably as ever, is being FRISKED by\n three THUGS in Armani suits. They remove A GUN from inside\n his jacket, a well-concealed knife, a metal case, laying them","\t\t\n\n T H E W O R L D I S N O T E N O U G H\n\n (BOND 19)\n\n --------------------------------------------------------------\n\n GUN BARREL LOGO OPENS ON\n\n GENEVA SWITZERLAND, an unnaturally clean city that melds old\n Europe with new money of both dubious and legitimate source.\n\n INT. HALLWAY OFFICE BUILDING - DAY\n\n An engraved brass plaque announcing the name","INT. BANK - GENEVA - DAY\n\n Bond appears on the top floor of the grand old building, by\n the elevator. Looks over the balcony, sees figures on the\n stairs. Hears the elevator cage start from below.\n\n Thinking fast, he wrenches open the steel gate, leans into\n the lift shaft, watches the elevator COUNTERWEIGHT as it\n comes down. Almost nonchalant, he steps out...\n\n INT. STAIRWELL/ELEVATOR SHAFT - DAY",". I need some information.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Bond, I'm a civilian. This is my place.\n Used to be the royal family's, now it's\n mine. I run my little business, I stay\n out of trouble...\n\n BOND\n (looking about)\n Mafia warlords, Diplomats and spies,\n consortiums from every country in the\n world. A nice little rat's nest.\n\n ZUKOVSKY","Armani suits. They remove A GUN from inside\n his jacket, a well-concealed knife, a metal case, laying them\n on the desk that separates Bond and...\n\n LACHAISE...an extremely well-groomed gentleman. Behind him,\n three floor-to-ceiling windows lead out to a rooftop garden.\n\n LACHAISE\n Not the usual Swiss procedure, Mr. Bond,\n but you understand, a man in my\n position..\n\n BOND\n Which is neutral","the\n SECURE ROOM. Bond hands the suitcase to a STAFF MEMBER.\n\n BOND\n Have this checked, see what you can get\n off it.\n\n INT. MONEYPENNY'S OFFICE, MI-6 - DAY\n\n Bond appears, hiding something behind his back. Moneypenny\n brightens.\n\n MONEYPENNY\n James. Brought me a souvenir from\n Geneva?\n\n He produces the cigar, now in a","and opening it up...inside is a good\n deal of CASH in pound sterling.\n\n LACHAISE\n In the current exchange rate, minus the\n fees, of course, and certain\n unforeseeable expenses. Here is the\n receipt...\n\n The CIGAR GIRL offers Bond a RECEIPT...\n\n CIGAR GIRL\n Would you like to check my figures?\n\n BOND\n Perhaps later.\n\n She steps back. Bond reaches for the metal case","in background, the seaplane moors beneath the\n vast stepped cake that is MI-6. Bond exits with the\n suitcase.\n\n INT. SECURITY, MI-6 - DAY\n\n CAMERA MOVES with Bond as he enters this secret, hi-tech\n world. He passes through countless security procedures,\n watched by an attentive staff.\n\n Bond scoops the money out of the suitcase. Three million\n sterling in tightly bundled hundreds makes quite a sight. He\n f","SE\n I am just a middle man. I am doing the\n honourable thing and returning the money\n to its rightful owner...\n\n BOND\n And we know how difficult that can be for\n the Swiss.\n\n LACHAISE\n (controlled fury)\n Your last chance. Take the money.\n\n BOND\n Your last chance. Give me the name.\n\n LACHAISE\n Stripped of all your weaponry, you still\n threaten me?\n\n","them we spot BOND...one of them,\n with a briefcase and a suit and tie...HOLD on his face,\n troubled.\n\n INT. HOTEL - GENEVA - DAY\n\n The Cigar Girl enters a huge, high-ceilinged room. Edgy, she\n approaches a BIG MAN standing on a balcony overlooking the\n city. Propped against the doorframe, an assassin's RIFLE\n with LASER-SIGHT attached. BINOCULARS are on a trip","He looks out at the long stretch of pipeline, like a deadly\n snake with the world for its bed.\n\n BOND\n I know I promised you champagne, but\n would you settle for caviar?\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - ISTANBUL - TWILIGHT\n\n A boat puts in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\n\n Renard disemb","cigar into his pocket...\n\n Except Henchman #1 has recovered, blocks his way, gun in\n hand. He starts to squeeze the trigger -- when a RED DOT\n appears on his chest...another window SHATTERS as a bullet\n zings through and pierces the henchman in the heart.\n\n Bond looks back once at the shattered window, then heads out.\n\n INT. BANK - GENEVA - DAY\n\n Bond appears on the top floor of the grand old building, by\n the elevator.",". Almost nonchalant, he steps out...\n\n INT. STAIRWELL/ELEVATOR SHAFT - DAY\n\n As the cageful of police rises, Bond is now standing on the\n counterweight, DESCENDING.\n\n EXT. STREET - GENEVA\n\n Lunchtime. Faceless business crowds heading for their brief\n moment of freedom, among them we spot BOND...one of them,\n with a briefcase and a suit and tie...HOLD on his face,\n trou","it are a BRIEFCASE and a box of\n EXPENSIVE CIGARS, which she offers to Lachaise and Bond.\n\n LACHAISE\n It wasn't easy, but I retrieved the\n money. No doubt Sir Robert will be\n pleased to see it again.\n\n The efficient Cigar Girl brings the briefcase to Bond,\n setting it in his lap and opening it up...inside is a good\n deal of CASH in pound sterling.\n\n LACHAISE\n In","s toast this James Bond. We're in\n his hands now...\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. RIVER THAMES - LONDON - DAY\n\n A SEAPLANE swoops over the Millennium Dome, banks along the\n snaking river.\n\n EXT. MI-6 - LONDON - DAY\n\n Tate Gallery in background, the seaplane moors beneath the\n vast stepped cake that is MI-6. Bond exits with the\n suitcase"," them turns to look back, unaware that she is on display. She\n returns Bond's smile. Her friend turns to look. Bond's\n smile grows: she has a small pistol concealed over one\n breast.\n\n INT. CASINO NOIR D'OR, BAKU - NIGHT\n\n He looks over the lenses -- and spies someone on the fringes.\n His old adversary, ex-KGB, VALENTIN ZUKOVSKY, talking to some\n suspicious types. Zuk","and a military haircut.\n\n The man seems to see Bond looking at him...\n\n M\n Bond, we'll meet you inside.\n\n Bond looks at her for a brief second...when he turns back,\n the man is gone, like an APPARITION.\n\n Bond walks off, up the grassy slope, toward the rise.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n THE VIEW ACROSS THE VALLEY\n\n Bond stands on the hill, looking below. He sees nothing but\n a green carpet,","\n\n BOND\n The amount of money that killed Robert\n King is the same amount as the ransom\n demand for Elektra.\n\n He hands her a slip of paper.\n\n BOND\n Whoever kidnapped Elektra is the same man\n who killed her father.\n\n M looks at the paper, a long time.\n\n M\n It's a message. He wants us to know he's\n back.\n\n BOND\n Who?\n\n ","the swirling dust and smoke, he suddenly sees a wand of\n red light, pointing at his chest.\n\n All instinct, he dives for cover. Powerful, high velocity\n bullet hits blanket the area. Bond prepares to return fire,\n scanning around for the source. Through the debris he spots\n an unusual, hi-tech BOAT on the river -- long and narrow and\n low. A figure on board. THE CIGAR GIRL.\n\n ANGLE ON CIGAR GIRL\n\n She FIRES"],["Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\n blood curiously, feeling no pain.\n\n RENARD\n A man tires of being executed.\n\n As Bond screws a silencer onto the muzzle of his gun:\n\n RENARD\n But then again...There is no point in\n living if you can't...feel alive.\n\n Bond knows that, he's heard it somewhere before...IT FREEZES\n HIM","\n It throbs and shifts with the slightest facial expression,\n like an insect living just beneath his skin. One EYE seems\n slightly drooping, deadened. The other eye is sharp and black\n as anthracite. It is a frightening face. This is RENARD.\n\n RENARD\n What's his name? Our friend from MI-6?\n\n CIGAR GIRL\n James Bond.\n\n RENARD\n One of M's more accomplished tin\n soldiers.\n\n ","\n RENARD\n It's I who should thank you -- for taking\n that money back to MI-6. So distressing\n for M. An explosion inside her lair.\n\n BOND\n She'll get over it.\n\n RENARD\n You even brought the plane for us. We\n really couldn't have done it without you.\n\n Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\n blood","is the\n hottest.\n\n Renard touches the glass well of oil.\n\n RENARD\n The temperature is close to five hundred\n degrees.\n\n Renard uses his knife and POPS the seal from the lamp,\n removing the well of oil...a DROP of the hot oil FALLS ON HIS\n HAND and SINGES IT BLACK in an instant...\n\n Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\n to placate...\n\n DAVIDOV\n ","\n RENARD\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\n get on my knees and pray for it. You, on\n the other hand, you have something to\n live for, no?\n (closer now)\n She's beautiful isn't she? You should\n have seen her before. Flawless, and still\n so innocent, not such a whore in bed...\n\n Bond's eyes flare in fury. He shoves Renard into the wall\n and presses the gun to his"," Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\n to placate...\n\n DAVIDOV\n The plane...it's all been arranged...\n\n RENARD\n Then you are completely unnecessary...\n\n Renard raises the container of oil over Davidov's head:\n\n DAVIDOV\n I have the documents, the landing\n authorizations, the security passes...\n\n Renard stops, the oil tilted, just ready to pour...\n\n His dead eye...has it drooped"," (beat)\n That bullet is still there.\n\n Bond moves toward the ghostly Renard. We now see THE BULLET\n INSIDE HIS SKULL.\n\n BOND\n He survived?\n\n M\n The doctor who saved him couldn't get it\n out, so Renard killed him. When Interpol\n found the x-rays, there was mild\n jubilation. Effectively, he's a dead man.\n\n She presses a button, the hologram turns...\n\n","The scream, like a wounded animal, echoes throughout the\n doomed craft.\n\n BACK ON RENARD, gasping, spent.\n\n RENARD\n You will die for this.\n\n He strides through to the\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER\n\n Jams shut the hatch behind him. Now moves through to the\n\n INT. CHAMBER BEYOND REACTOR\n\n Where he picks up the PLUTONIUM. Moves back into the\n\n INT. REACTOR"," INT. SALON PRIVE\n\n The HENCHMAN holds Davidov against the wall with his huge\n fist around his neck. Near his head, the live flame of a\n SCONCE hisses, burning blue and yellow, drawing their fuel\n from the glass basin of hot oil attached beneath it.\n\n The HOOKER, obviously one of Renard's gang, has finished\n donning her khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\n onto her shoulder.\n\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\n","?\n\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\n Tormented.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n Now she runs the ice down her neck...\n\n ELEKTRA\n But surely...\n\n ...her fingers becoming wet, she runs the ice down between\n her breasts, leaving a trail. Teasing...\n\n ELEKTRA\n ...You can feel this?\n\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\n open, enjoying","she used all that brilliance to get\n revenge on her father, on me.\n\n RENARD\n No. I wanted you. I wanted you for\n myself.\n\n He takes something out of his pocket. A small TRAVEL CLOCK.\n He sets it.\n\n RENARD\n Since you sent your man to kill me, I\n have been watching time tick slowly away,\n marching inevitably toward my own death.\n Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow,\n your time is up. And I",")\n Take him away, I don't want him around as\n we move the bomb.\n (whispered, to Bond)\n You had me. I knew you couldn't shoulder\n the responsibility...\n\n And Renard jams his hand onto Bond's shoulder, squeezing his\n collar-bone hard... Pain jolts through Bond, he drops to his\n knees in agony. He shoves Bond down. Bond's hand goes to his\n shoulder, his mind now racing -- how did he know to hurt him","\n Should be dead as well. Your failure\n today is astonishing. It is a disgrace.\n\n He approaches close to him, stopping at the flaming SCONCE\n near his head.\n\n RENARD\n Do you know why the color is blue at the\n wick?\n\n Davidov starts to sweat.\n\n RENARD\n Because that is where the flame is the\n hottest.\n\n Renard touches the glass well of oil.\n\n RENARD\n The temperature is","elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room.\n\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You're hurting me.\n\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\n hide it.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Brought me something?\n\n He smiles, gr","microphone.\n\n RENARD\n In case you've forgotten. I'm dead\n already.\n\n BOND\n Haven't you heard the news? So is she.\n\n Renard's face screws up in pain more searing than any he\n could feel in his skin...he SCREAMS...\n\n INT. SUBMARINE...\n\n The scream, like a wounded animal, echoes throughout the\n doomed craft.\n\n BACK ON RENARD, gasping, spent","in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\n\n Renard disembarks with several of his retinue, heavily laden\n with bags and cases. They enter the tower...\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - CONTINUOUS\n\n A fantastic space: stained glass windows cast myriad\n patterns over elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room","\n hand.\n\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n Elektra comes to him. Leads him to the bed. Sits. Gently\n removes the splinter. Then, she takes an icecube from the\n bucket. Runs it along his wound.\n\n ELEKTRA\n What about this?\n\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\n Tormented.\n\n REN","...\n\n PULL BACK TO SEE\n\n The dead face of Yevgeny, poisoned. Others of his crew\n around, also dead.\n\n Renard and his men tour the grisly scene.\n\n RENARD\n Take them up and throw them in the sea.\n\n As they drag Yevgeny away, his HAT falls on the ground.\n Renard picks it up and PUTS IT ON HIS HEAD.\n\n RENARD\n We'll be underway in two hours","\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\n out the images. After a moment, he SMASHES HIS FIST through\n the hand-painted wood. Elektra looks up.\n\n HER P.O.V. A huge splinter of wood juts out of Renard's\n hand.\n\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n ","back.\n\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\n\n M\n She's insane. Is that what you did to\n her?\n\n RENARD\n No. I'm afraid it is what you did.\n\n He crosses close to the bars.\n\n RENARD\n When I took her she was...promise itself.\n So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\n force. And you left her there, at the\n mercy of a man like me"],[".\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\n of coffee.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to Foreman)\n ...they should have been in place two\n days ago. That is the target my father\n set.\n\n FOREMAN\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\n\n ","\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\n trying to kill me?\n\n BOND\n You can drop the act, it's over.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I don't know what you're talking about!\n\n BOND\n I think you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd","ELEKTRA\n Would you excuse us, Davidov?\n\n Davidov nods and leaves. Elektra still keeps her back turned,\n but he can see her physically change, her shoulders sag, her\n arms cross in front of her. When she finds her voice, it has\n a gravelly sound of emotion.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I met you at my father's funeral.\n\n BOND\n Yes.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I haven't been able to recall a single\n ","ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\n\n RENARD\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\n dead? It's what you wanted.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (beat)\n Of course...\n\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\n\n RENARD\n He was a...good lover?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing","BAKU - DAY\n\n Elektra works in her father's STUDY, illuminated by a halo of\n light from a single desk lamp. Pictures of her grandfather\n and father stare down at her from the walls. The wind BLOWS A\n WINDOW open.\n\n She gets up, crosses the room, shutting the window. She\n stands there, listening to the silence and then...\n\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\n\n She listens, a","\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\n HER POV:\n\n Big, battered and bloody, Valentin Zukovsky is leaving a\n boat, moving over the rocks toward the entrance with three of\n his men. Two bodies in his trail. He's on course for\n Elektra and nothing is going to stop him, even as his\n henchmen are cut down by feroc","\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\n\n ELEKTRA\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\n\n BOND\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\n what's the point of living if you can't\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\n Isn't that your motto?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n Or did you steal it from your","\n\n ELEKTRA\n What are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n Or did you steal it from your old friend\n Renard?\n\n ELEKTRA\n ...what?\n\n BOND\n We had a run-in, he and I. He knew about\n us, he knew about my shoulder, he knew\n exactly where to hurt me...\n\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the","ovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\n further, staring at Bond...\n\n A look passes between the two men. Comrades in arms. The\n merest of smiles. Then the light fades from his eyes. Dead.\n\n ELEKTRA\n\n turns back to Bond. Smiles.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Excuse me.\n\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:","wants to kill me, I'd rather die\n looking him straight in the eye.\n (lightly)\n What are you doing here? Looking for a\n woman a little more your type? How about\n that one?\n\n She points to a SHOW GIRL in a feather headdress and pasties.\n\n BOND\n If this little show is for my benefit,\n I'll take you home right now.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You had your chance, James. Now I'm\n ",".\n\n ELEKTRA\n They were digging near here and they\n found some very pretty vases. They also\n found this...\n (meaning the garotte)\n I think we ignore the old ways at our\n peril, don't you?\n\n Bond recoils as she fastens the collar... She steps back.\n\n BOND\n (ignoring her)\n Where's M?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\n\n Bond"," ELEKTRA\n He's struck again.\n (beat)\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\n\n He moves toward her.\n\n BOND\n I'm coming with you.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You do what you have to do, but I've\n called in M. She's en route from London\n even now.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\n\n",".\n\n BOND\n I'm sorry.\n\n WOMAN\n He died before he could complete his\n lifelong dream.\n (beat)\n I intend to finish it for him.\n\n A voice interrupts them, calling from the estate...\n\n OLDER MAN\n Elektra!\n\n ELEKTRA\n Excuse me.\n\n She walks away, the wind pressing her dress against her\n delicate figure. She looks brave and vulnerable as she walks\n ","and then...\n\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\n\n She listens, a long time, to the silence.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Gabor...?\n\n She goes to the door, opens it...it whines on its hinges.\n She steps into...\n\n INT. LIBRARY\n\n A big room lined with books. Three french doors lead out to a\n balcony. She walks a few paces in...\n\n THE DOOR SH","me.\n\n She walks away, the wind pressing her dress against her\n delicate figure. She looks brave and vulnerable as she walks\n back toward her father's grand house.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n INT. LIMOUSINE - TRAVELING - DAY\n\n M, Bond and Tanner in the rear of a limousine. The vehicle\n swoops through the epic countryside of the Scottish\n Highlands.\n\n M\n Elektra? Running King Industries?\n (she bro","ved window.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\n\n Bond ignores her.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I could have given you the world.\n\n BOND\n Not interested.\n\n This cuts. She casually reaches behind his neck, flips up a\n wooden arm to which is attached a metal collar. A GAROTTE.\n\n ELEKTRA\n They were digging near here and they\n found some very pretty vases. They also\n ","elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room.\n\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You're hurting me.\n\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\n hide it.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Brought me something?\n\n He smiles, gr"," They're\n following a huge pipeline, passing a blighted petrified\n forest of twisted iron: derelict oil derricks.\n\n Elektra gestures at the oil fields they're now leaving\n behind. Receding into the distance, a DELTA OF ROADWAYS\n perched on rusting stilts juts out into the sea.\n\n ELEKTRA\n My mother's people discovered oil here\n ninety years ago. The Bolsheviks\n slaughtered them for it.","KTRA\n ...You can feel this?\n\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\n open, enjoying the sensation. A beat, then his smile slowly\n grows. As she does something else.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (sensual)\n Remember ... pleasure?\n\n DISSOLVE:\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DEAD OF NIGHT\n\n Eerily quiet. The calm before the storm, except:\n\n INT. M","And he makes an\n excellent omelette.\n\n BOND\n How long has he been with you?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Since the kidnapping. Why do you ask?\n\n Bond takes something out of his pocket, he opens his palm,\n shows it to her.\n\n BOND\n Does this look familiar to you?\n\n ELEKTRA\n It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\n of his life.\n\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in"],["\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\n trying to kill me?\n\n BOND\n You can drop the act, it's over.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I don't know what you're talking about!\n\n BOND\n I think you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd","\n\n ELEKTRA\n What are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n Or did you steal it from your old friend\n Renard?\n\n ELEKTRA\n ...what?\n\n BOND\n We had a run-in, he and I. He knew about\n us, he knew about my shoulder, he knew\n exactly where to hurt me...\n\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the","?\n\n He nods. He is wound tight, she senses it.\n\n BOND\n I can't stay.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I know.\n\n A moment.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I need to ask you something. And I need\n you to tell me the truth.\n\n He waits.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Who is it? Who is trying to kill me?\n\n Bond looks at her; vulnerable, fragile, trying to be strong.","is that it? You had a sling on your\n arm at the funeral! I didn't have to\n sleep with you to find that out.\n\n BOND\n He used your exact words.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You knew. You knew all the time, that he\n was out there, that he was coming for me,\n and you lied. You used me, you used me as\n bait. You made love to me -- what, to\n pass the time as you waited for him to\n strike?\n","ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\n\n RENARD\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\n dead? It's what you wanted.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (beat)\n Of course...\n\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\n\n RENARD\n He was a...good lover?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing","KTRA\n ...You can feel this?\n\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\n open, enjoying the sensation. A beat, then his smile slowly\n grows. As she does something else.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (sensual)\n Remember ... pleasure?\n\n DISSOLVE:\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DEAD OF NIGHT\n\n Eerily quiet. The calm before the storm, except:\n\n INT. M","\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\n HER POV:\n\n Big, battered and bloody, Valentin Zukovsky is leaving a\n boat, moving over the rocks toward the entrance with three of\n his men. Two bodies in his trail. He's on course for\n Elektra and nothing is going to stop him, even as his\n henchmen are cut down by feroc","TRA\n Who is it? Who is trying to kill me?\n\n Bond looks at her; vulnerable, fragile, trying to be strong.\n He cannot tell her the truth.\n\n BOND\n I don't know. But I will find him.\n\n She stares at him, sensing he is withholding something. She\n turns back to the window.\n\n He approaches behind her.\n\n ELEKTRA\n After the kidnapping...I was afraid to go\n outside, to be alone, to be in","And he makes an\n excellent omelette.\n\n BOND\n How long has he been with you?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Since the kidnapping. Why do you ask?\n\n Bond takes something out of his pocket, he opens his palm,\n shows it to her.\n\n BOND\n Does this look familiar to you?\n\n ELEKTRA\n It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\n of his life.\n\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in"," The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Since I was a child, I've always had a\n power over men. When I realized my father\n wouldn't rescue me from the kidnappers, I\n knew I had to form a new alliance.\n\n BOND\n (realizing)\n You turned Renard.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (smiling)\n Just like you..."," A moment's\n dilemma: should he race below to the sub -- or up to\n Elektra?\n\n He takes off after Elektra, grabs the radio handset.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE - SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - DAY\n\n The submarine's engines roar to life.\n\n INT. TOWER - CONTINUOUS\n\n ELEKTRA rises up one of the triple","He holds her gaze for a long time before he looks away.\n\n BOND\n I can't afford to.\n\n She frowns, slightly. Settles into his chest.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Don't worry. I know who you are.\n\n He holds her, eyes full of conflict, staring into the dark.\n\n EXT. VILLA - NIGHT - LATER\n\n The lights of a car pulling up at the security office by the\n perimeter wall of the property.\n\n"," She picks it up, walks to him (surreptitiously sliding a gun\n beneath it). She proffers the hat...\n\n ELEKTRA\n What a shame. You just missed him.\n\n BLAM BLAM BLAM -- she fires through the hat.\n\n He staggers back. Stares. Slumps down. Lowers his head to\n the ground.\n\n She walks over, puts her heel on his gun arm, presses down,\n smiling a half-psychotic smile. ","TRA\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\n\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gazing out\n at this spectacular cradle of civilization. Bond works his\n wristbinds feverishly.\n\n ELEKTRA\n It runs in my veins, thicker than blood.\n I'm going to redraw the map.\n And when I am through the whole world\n will know my name, my grandfather's name,\n the glory of my people.\n\n B","ovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\n further, staring at Bond...\n\n A look passes between the two men. Comrades in arms. The\n merest of smiles. Then the light fades from his eyes. Dead.\n\n ELEKTRA\n\n turns back to Bond. Smiles.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Excuse me.\n\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:","if they're coming for\n you, if anyone will ever come for you.\n\n M\n Someone will come.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Who? Bond? Bond is dead.\n\n Elektra walks to the window. She looks out.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Somehow, I find that strangely\n ...disappointing.\n\n M watches her, her heart beating.\n\n M\n Elektra. What time is it?\n\n Elektra picks up the little clock","ays no fear. A quiet defiance burns in her.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Just as I promised.\n\n Renard steps forward. Bars separate him from M.\n\n RENARD\n My executioner.\n\n M\n Over-praise, I'm afraid. But my people\n will finish the job.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Your people? Your people will leave you\n here to rot just like you left me. You\n and my father. He didn't think my"," It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\n of his life.\n\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in his eyes, with a sad half-\n smile that unsettles him.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you trying to break my heart? Or is\n it just your way with women?\n\n BOND\n It's not the pin your father wore. It's\n an exact duplicate. Inside is a tiny\n electrical detonator. We have reason to\n believe the assassin had","KTRA\n You are wrong, Mr. Bond. In fact, I am\n the only person who can do it.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. JEEP, TRAVELING - OILFIELDS - DAY\n\n Elektra drives the all-terrain jeep with casual assurance.\n Bond is beside her, cold-weather gear in the back. They're\n following a huge pipeline, passing a blighted petrified\n forest of twisted iron: derelict oil d","me as\n bait. You made love to me -- what, to\n pass the time as you waited for him to\n strike?\n\n He has no answer. He can't deny what she says.\n\n The phone rings, cuts through the tension. Bond and Elektra\n staring at one another. She lets it ring... Then picks up.\n Listens, looks to Bond.\n\n ELEKTRA\n He's struck again.\n (beat)\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\n\n"],[".\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\n of coffee.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to Foreman)\n ...they should have been in place two\n days ago. That is the target my father\n set.\n\n FOREMAN\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\n\n ",".\n\n ELEKTRA\n They were digging near here and they\n found some very pretty vases. They also\n found this...\n (meaning the garotte)\n I think we ignore the old ways at our\n peril, don't you?\n\n Bond recoils as she fastens the collar... She steps back.\n\n BOND\n (ignoring her)\n Where's M?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\n\n Bond","elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room.\n\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You're hurting me.\n\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\n hide it.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Brought me something?\n\n He smiles, gr","ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\n\n RENARD\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\n dead? It's what you wanted.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (beat)\n Of course...\n\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\n\n RENARD\n He was a...good lover?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing","\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\n trying to kill me?\n\n BOND\n You can drop the act, it's over.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I don't know what you're talking about!\n\n BOND\n I think you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd","\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\n\n ELEKTRA\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\n\n BOND\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\n what's the point of living if you can't\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\n Isn't that your motto?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n Or did you steal it from your","ive falls in love\n with her captor.\n\n At the word \"love,\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\n unsuspecting Bond hard across the face.\n\n ELEKTRA\n How dare you! How dare you! That\n animal!? That monster!? He disgusts me!\n You disgust me! So he knew where to hurt\n you, is that it? You had a sling on your\n arm at the funeral! I didn't have to\n sleep with you to find that","ved window.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\n\n Bond ignores her.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I could have given you the world.\n\n BOND\n Not interested.\n\n This cuts. She casually reaches behind his neck, flips up a\n wooden arm to which is attached a metal collar. A GAROTTE.\n\n ELEKTRA\n They were digging near here and they\n found some very pretty vases. They also\n ","ELEKTRA\n Would you excuse us, Davidov?\n\n Davidov nods and leaves. Elektra still keeps her back turned,\n but he can see her physically change, her shoulders sag, her\n arms cross in front of her. When she finds her voice, it has\n a gravelly sound of emotion.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I met you at my father's funeral.\n\n BOND\n Yes.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I haven't been able to recall a single\n ","?\n\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\n Tormented.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n Now she runs the ice down her neck...\n\n ELEKTRA\n But surely...\n\n ...her fingers becoming wet, she runs the ice down between\n her breasts, leaving a trail. Teasing...\n\n ELEKTRA\n ...You can feel this?\n\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\n open, enjoying","and then...\n\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\n\n She listens, a long time, to the silence.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Gabor...?\n\n She goes to the door, opens it...it whines on its hinges.\n She steps into...\n\n INT. LIBRARY\n\n A big room lined with books. Three french doors lead out to a\n balcony. She walks a few paces in...\n\n THE DOOR SH","wants to kill me, I'd rather die\n looking him straight in the eye.\n (lightly)\n What are you doing here? Looking for a\n woman a little more your type? How about\n that one?\n\n She points to a SHOW GIRL in a feather headdress and pasties.\n\n BOND\n If this little show is for my benefit,\n I'll take you home right now.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You had your chance, James. Now I'm\n ","back.\n\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\n\n M\n She's insane. Is that what you did to\n her?\n\n RENARD\n No. I'm afraid it is what you did.\n\n He crosses close to the bars.\n\n RENARD\n When I took her she was...promise itself.\n So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\n force. And you left her there, at the\n mercy of a man like me","you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Syndrome.\n It's common in kidnappings. A young\n impressionable victim. Sheltered,\n sexually inexperienced. A powerful\n kidnapper skilled in torture, in\n manipulation. Something snaps in the\n victim's mind. The captive falls in love\n with her captor.\n\n At the word \"love,\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an","BAKU - DAY\n\n Elektra works in her father's STUDY, illuminated by a halo of\n light from a single desk lamp. Pictures of her grandfather\n and father stare down at her from the walls. The wind BLOWS A\n WINDOW open.\n\n She gets up, crosses the room, shutting the window. She\n stands there, listening to the silence and then...\n\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\n\n She listens, a","ovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\n further, staring at Bond...\n\n A look passes between the two men. Comrades in arms. The\n merest of smiles. Then the light fades from his eyes. Dead.\n\n ELEKTRA\n\n turns back to Bond. Smiles.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Excuse me.\n\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:","it myself.\n\n She turns the screw again.\n\n BOND\n So you killed your father.\n\n ELEKTRA\n He killed me! He killed me the day he\n refused to pay my ransom.\n\n A flicker of emotion. Bond is getting to her.\n\n BOND\n Was this all about the oil?\n\n ELEKTRA\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\n\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gaz","\n She traces a finger along the metal. A flicker of wonder:\n\n ELEKTRA\n Warm.\n\n RENARD\n (pointed)\n Is it?\n\n She's sensitive to his buried frustration:\n\n ELEKTRA\n I've brought something for you as well.\n\n INT. ROOM - MAIDEN'S TOWER - MOMENTS LATER\n\n Elektra opens a heavy door, she and Renard past through to...\n\n A SM","\n hand.\n\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n Elektra comes to him. Leads him to the bed. Sits. Gently\n removes the splinter. Then, she takes an icecube from the\n bucket. Runs it along his wound.\n\n ELEKTRA\n What about this?\n\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\n Tormented.\n\n REN","Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\n carved chair, covered in silk.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to guards)\n Take her to Renard.\n\n Bond and Christmas exchange a look as the guards start her\n towards some steps.\n\n Elektra indicates for him to sit. Behind him, the whole of\n Istanbul is visible through a large curved window.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\n\n Bond ignores her.\n\n"],[".\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\n of coffee.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to Foreman)\n ...they should have been in place two\n days ago. That is the target my father\n set.\n\n FOREMAN\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\n\n ","it myself.\n\n She turns the screw again.\n\n BOND\n So you killed your father.\n\n ELEKTRA\n He killed me! He killed me the day he\n refused to pay my ransom.\n\n A flicker of emotion. Bond is getting to her.\n\n BOND\n Was this all about the oil?\n\n ELEKTRA\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\n\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gaz","Your people? Your people will leave you\n here to rot just like you left me. You\n and my father. He didn't think my life\n was worth the chump change he spent on a\n day at the stock market.\n\n M\n Your father...\n\n ELEKTRA\n Is nothing. His kingdom he stole from my\n mother. The kingdom I will rightly take\n back.\n\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\n\n M\n She's insane. ","ELEKTRA\n Would you excuse us, Davidov?\n\n Davidov nods and leaves. Elektra still keeps her back turned,\n but he can see her physically change, her shoulders sag, her\n arms cross in front of her. When she finds her voice, it has\n a gravelly sound of emotion.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I met you at my father's funeral.\n\n BOND\n Yes.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I haven't been able to recall a single\n ","(realizing)\n You turned Renard.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (smiling)\n Just like you...only you were even\n easier.\n\n She pulls the jewel from her ear, reveals the ugly scar:\n\n ELEKTRA\n I told him he had to hurt me, he had to\n make it look real. When he refused I told\n him I would do it myself.\n\n She turns the screw again.\n\n BOND\n So you killed your father.\n\n E","ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\n\n RENARD\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\n dead? It's what you wanted.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (beat)\n Of course...\n\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\n\n RENARD\n He was a...good lover?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing","ays no fear. A quiet defiance burns in her.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Just as I promised.\n\n Renard steps forward. Bars separate him from M.\n\n RENARD\n My executioner.\n\n M\n Over-praise, I'm afraid. But my people\n will finish the job.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Your people? Your people will leave you\n here to rot just like you left me. You\n and my father. He didn't think my","\n BOND\n Yes.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I haven't been able to recall a single\n moment of that day...until now.\n\n BOND\n Funerals aren't exactly memorable.\n\n ELEKTRA\n God no. All those horrible loved ones and\n relatives. I don't want to talk to those\n people. I just want to...talk to my\n father.\n (beat)\n I loved him. I'm not sure he knew that.","\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\n trying to kill me?\n\n BOND\n You can drop the act, it's over.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I don't know what you're talking about!\n\n BOND\n I think you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd"," It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\n of his life.\n\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in his eyes, with a sad half-\n smile that unsettles him.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you trying to break my heart? Or is\n it just your way with women?\n\n BOND\n It's not the pin your father wore. It's\n an exact duplicate. Inside is a tiny\n electrical detonator. We have reason to\n believe the assassin had","\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\n\n ELEKTRA\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\n\n BOND\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\n what's the point of living if you can't\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\n Isn't that your motto?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n Or did you steal it from your","And he makes an\n excellent omelette.\n\n BOND\n How long has he been with you?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Since the kidnapping. Why do you ask?\n\n Bond takes something out of his pocket, he opens his palm,\n shows it to her.\n\n BOND\n Does this look familiar to you?\n\n ELEKTRA\n It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\n of his life.\n\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in","ive falls in love\n with her captor.\n\n At the word \"love,\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\n unsuspecting Bond hard across the face.\n\n ELEKTRA\n How dare you! How dare you! That\n animal!? That monster!? He disgusts me!\n You disgust me! So he knew where to hurt\n you, is that it? You had a sling on your\n arm at the funeral! I didn't have to\n sleep with you to find that","want to...talk to my\n father.\n (beat)\n I loved him. I'm not sure he knew that.\n\n BOND\n Is that why you want to finish the\n pipeline?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Partially, yes.\n\n Her muscleman BODY GUARD appears, says briefly:\n\n GABOR\n The jeep is ready, Ma'am. Will I be\n driving with you?\n\n ELEKTRA\n No, Gabor","wants to kill me, I'd rather die\n looking him straight in the eye.\n (lightly)\n What are you doing here? Looking for a\n woman a little more your type? How about\n that one?\n\n She points to a SHOW GIRL in a feather headdress and pasties.\n\n BOND\n If this little show is for my benefit,\n I'll take you home right now.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You had your chance, James. Now I'm\n ",", her heart beating.\n\n M\n Elektra. What time is it?\n\n Elektra picks up the little clock. Walks over to the cell\n bars.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Time for you to die.\n\n And she reaches through the bars and HANDS M THE CLOCK.\n\n The two women's eyes meet.\n\n RENARD\n The reactor is secured.\n\n She turns, sees RENARD in the doorway. She crosses to him\n and SLAM","So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\n force. And you left her there, at the\n mercy of a man like me. You ruined her.\n For what? To get to me? She is worth\n fifty of me.\n\n M\n For once, I agree with you.\n\n He shakes his head, amused by her pluck.\n\n M\n So she used all that brilliance to get\n revenge on her father, on me.\n\n RENARD\n No. I wanted you","elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room.\n\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You're hurting me.\n\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\n hide it.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Brought me something?\n\n He smiles, gr","belonged to my father. He would have\n wanted you to have it.\n\n M feels uneasy.\n\n M\n Perhaps this isn't the time...\n\n ELEKTRA\n Please.\n\n She hands M a small box. M unties the ribbon.\n\n ELEKTRA\n He often spoke of how...compassionately\n you advised him on the best course of\n action during my kidnapping.\n\n M opens the box. It is THE EYE OF THE GLENS...the he","\n\n She walks over, puts her heel on his gun arm, presses down,\n smiling a half-psychotic smile. The gun is pinned.\n\n Zukovsky is dying.\n\n But he dredges up every last ounce of energy to raise his gun\n a millimetre off the ground, his outstretched arm already\n pointing at Bond. Elektra looks surprised, then amused as\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\n to shoot Bond!\n\n"],[" An inner door stops it getting into the\n submarine itself.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\n\n Renard slowly inserts the plutonium rod. Immediately the\n light around him becomes a deeper blue, a horrible\n luminescence. The staccato click of a distant Geiger counter\n intensifies.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n As Bond opens the inner door of an ESCAPE HATCH, he points\n out","The scream, like a wounded animal, echoes throughout the\n doomed craft.\n\n BACK ON RENARD, gasping, spent.\n\n RENARD\n You will die for this.\n\n He strides through to the\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER\n\n Jams shut the hatch behind him. Now moves through to the\n\n INT. CHAMBER BEYOND REACTOR\n\n Where he picks up the PLUTONIUM. Moves back into the\n\n INT. REACTOR"," Everything not screwed\n down starts sliding...\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS - LONG SHOT\n\n The submarine is tilting, further and further, the nose\n dropping down and down...\n\n Pretty soon we have the strange and incredible sight of a\n submarine hanging vertically, nose down.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER, SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n Renard hangs on, swings, until he can get a footing on the\n nearest","picks it up and PUTS IT ON HIS HEAD.\n\n RENARD\n We'll be underway in two hours. Use that\n time to re-familiarize yourselves with\n your stations. Then ponder how rich\n you'll be. The re-breathers for the\n escape are already on board.\n\n A man appears holding a heavy lead box containing the\n plutonium. Renard takes the box as if it weighs nothing.\n Stronger then ever.\n\n C","\n Nuclear.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Not just nuclear. Powered by a nuclear\n reactor.\n (the penny drops)\n He's not loading any cargo. They want the\n sub. The sub itself.\n Put weapons grade plutonium inside the\n sub's reactor: Instant, catastrophic\n meltdown.\n\n BOND\n Made to look just like an accident.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Mother of God.\n\n ","Tanks open.\n\n But the man has stretched his hand to a fire alarm:\n\n The KLAXON RESOUNDS.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE CONTROL ROOM - CONTINUOUS\n\n Renard looks up.\n\n RENARD\n (to self)\n Bond...\n\n He flicks a switch;\n\n RENARD\n (into mic)\n Bond! You have decided to join me on this\n historic voyage. Welcome to my nuclear\n family","OND REACTOR\n\n Where he picks up the PLUTONIUM. Moves back into the\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER\n\n Sealing the other door behind him. And now he opens up the\n cover of the glaring REACTOR...\n\n INT. TANK CONTROLS ROOM, SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n Christmas sees a panel light up:\n\n CHRISTMAS\n The cover is off the reactor.\n\n Bond reads off more lights...\n","\n (into mic)\n Bond! You have decided to join me on this\n historic voyage. Welcome to my nuclear\n family.\n\n INTERCUT:\n\n BOND ON AN INTERCOM:\n\n His voice fills the control room.\n\n BOND\n You're really going to commit suicide for\n her?\n\n Renard responds, into the microphone.\n\n RENARD\n In case you've forgotten. I'm dead\n already.\n\n ","\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n THE GAUGE IS PASSING 4900, EDGING TOWARDS THE NO-WAY-BACK\n 5000 MARK. Meltdown imminent...\n\n He looks down the sub -- more water racing upward...\n\n Back to the pile. Scans the scene, searching for an idea.\n Sees a HOSE, compressed air escaping from a fissure. Thinks\n fast. Grabs the hose,","you ride?\n\n BOND\n Just wanted to put him on edge...\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER, SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n Renard is disturbed by the sub's position, but only\n momentarily.\n\n He moves to an intercom:\n\n RENARD\n Open the torpedo tubes.\n\n INT. TORPEDO ROOM - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bond hears a creak, turns to see the tubes open --","\n BOND\n Keep moving.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\n\n Renard now struggles back up to the reactor, stares into the\n violet blue heat...\n\n He hits a button. A ROD slowly rises out of the reactor.\n\n INT. LOWER SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bond and Christmas are ahead of the water. They have reached\n a level where various systems are operated from.\n\n BOND\n","him, is flung back, nearly falls through\n the hatch but manages to grab a pipe, hangs on for dear life.\n\n THE GAUGE HITS 4700\n\n\n BOND AND RENARD\n\n struggle... Both slamming into switches and buttons.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n OMITTED 314-316\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n THE GAUGE IS PASSING 4900","microphone.\n\n RENARD\n In case you've forgotten. I'm dead\n already.\n\n BOND\n Haven't you heard the news? So is she.\n\n Renard's face screws up in pain more searing than any he\n could feel in his skin...he SCREAMS...\n\n INT. SUBMARINE...\n\n The scream, like a wounded animal, echoes throughout the\n doomed craft.\n\n BACK ON RENARD, gasping, spent","Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\n The hatch closes.\n\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here. Bond looks down at\n the sealed door of the reactor chamber, curses.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bathed in the horrible light of the over-heating reactor,\n Renard looks upwards, aware of sounds on the other side of\n the door...\n\n KER-BLAM! A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT."," RENARD scans the water with night-vision binoculars.\n\n EXT. BOSPHORUS - NIGHT - HIS GREEN POV:\n\n A SUPERTANKER churns along...\n\n ADJUST ANGLE\n\n The CAMERA SINKS BENEATH THE WAVES, steals through the gloom -\n - eventually comes upon something sitting just beneath the\n belly of the tanker. The silhouette of a SUBMARINE, hugging\n the tanker'"," Sees a HOSE, compressed air escaping from a fissure. Thinks\n fast. Grabs the hose, snaps it free...\n\n RENARD\n\n is recovering, has found a FLARE GUN near him. Raises it to\n Bond...\n\n BOND'S POV\n\n in the reflection of the gauge (which is millimeters from\n 5000), we see Renard approaching from behind us...\n\n BOND jams the hose into the reactor, d"," To the room:\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n I'm looking for a submarine. It's big\n and black, and the driver is a friend of\n mine.\n\n Then his eye falls on the HAT Renard had brought up from\n below. He knows at once what it means.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Bring it to me.\n\n She picks it up, walks to him (surreptitiously sliding a gun\n beneath it). She proffers the hat...\n","Heavy doors close all exits but that to the tunnel.\n\n INT. THE PIT\n\n Bond and Christmas know they are being sealed in.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Melt-down doors. If he gets them closed,\n they won't be opened again for forty-\n eight years.\n\n Bond peers over the edge -- sees Renard and his men working\n the nuclear device into THE PASSAGEWAY.\n\n INT. THE PIT\n\n If Bond doesn't get through now, they're trapped forever.","the butt of his gun.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE CONTROL ROOM - MOMENTS LATER\n\n Several men occupy the central control room, Renard at their\n centre. Beyond, on the other side, the outer chamber of the\n reactor.\n\n INT. OTHER END OF CONTROL ROOM - SUBMARINE - DAY\n\n From the other end of the control room, Bond and Christmas,\n so near and yet so far -- they can't get to the reactor\n because there are so many","TINUOUS\n\n Bond down below. Renard's crew are spread throughout the sub.\n He creeps through...\n\n Approaches one man working some levers, smoking. Bond holds\n his gun to his head.\n\n BOND\n How do you want to die?\n (re: cigarette)\n That?\n (re: gun)\n Or this?\n\n INT. CABIN, SUBMARINE - MOMENTS LATER\n\n A few SOLID B"],[". Then, he comes\n to notice a figure, across the expanse of the pit, on the\n opposite side of the catwalk, a man, with his back to him, in\n Russian Army fatigues.\n\n BOND\n Corporal?\n\n The man turns...\n\n IT IS RENARD.\n\n He smiles.\n\n RENARD\n I see my friend Davidov ran into some\n difficulty.\n\n BOND\n Indeed.\n\n Renard starts toward him. Bond draws","Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\n The hatch closes.\n\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here. Bond looks down at\n the sealed door of the reactor chamber, curses.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bathed in the horrible light of the over-heating reactor,\n Renard looks upwards, aware of sounds on the other side of\n the door...\n\n KER-BLAM! A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT.","ony. He shoves Bond down. Bond's hand goes to his\n shoulder, his mind now racing -- how did he know to hurt him\n there?\n\n Renard's men start to maneuver the bomb toward the curving\n passageway. It's all too much for Colonel Akakievich:\n\n COLONEL AKAKIEVICH\n No -- the bomb does not go anywhere until\n I am satisfied. All of you to the\n surface, now...\n\n Renard stops and turns. Bond",". PASSAGEWAY\n\n WITH BOND as the bullets cease with a loud CLICK... What\n Bond was waiting for. He moves. The gunman frozen in the\n light, grappling to fit another clip --\n\n BLAM! He goes down. Bond not wasting bullets.\n\n INT. OTHER END OF PASSAGEWAY\n\n Renard is loading the bomb it into the ELEVATOR. He flicks a\n switch on the panel by the elevator. The IRIS starts closing\n on Bond","\n RENARD\n It's I who should thank you -- for taking\n that money back to MI-6. So distressing\n for M. An explosion inside her lair.\n\n BOND\n She'll get over it.\n\n RENARD\n You even brought the plane for us. We\n really couldn't have done it without you.\n\n Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\n blood","\n RENARD\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\n get on my knees and pray for it. You, on\n the other hand, you have something to\n live for, no?\n (closer now)\n She's beautiful isn't she? You should\n have seen her before. Flawless, and still\n so innocent, not such a whore in bed...\n\n Bond's eyes flare in fury. He shoves Renard into the wall\n and presses the gun to his","He looks out at the long stretch of pipeline, like a deadly\n snake with the world for its bed.\n\n BOND\n I know I promised you champagne, but\n would you settle for caviar?\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - ISTANBUL - TWILIGHT\n\n A boat puts in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\n\n Renard disemb","VES IT INTO THE IRIS DOOR just as it almost closes...\n\n Bond squeezes through...\n\n INT. OTHER SIDE OF IRIS\n\n Renard is getting in the ELEVATOR. Sees Bond made it, fires.\n Bond rolls into a corner.\n\n RENARD\n We have our fireworks. Now you can have\n yours.\n\n And he machine-guns some barrels. Rocket fuel spills out.\n He digs a finger into one of the holes, effortlessly ri","WAY - RENARD'S END\n\n The other guy answers with another spray of bullets. Watches\n uneasily as Bond takes out light after light. A funnel of\n darkness coming to swallow him -- concealing Bond's approach.\n Nervous, he fires, muzzle flash and sparks illuminating the\n void. To keep it lit, he keeps firing...\n\n INT. PASSAGEWAY\n\n WITH BOND as the bullets cease with a loud CLICK... What\n Bond was waiting for","GIRL\n James Bond.\n\n RENARD\n One of M's more accomplished tin\n soldiers.\n\n CIGAR GIRL\n He could identify me.\n\n RENARD\n If it concerns you...kill him.\n\n He touches her cheek and moves into the room, pouring two\n glasses of wine.\n\n RENARD\n Let's toast this James Bond. We're in\n his hands now...\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT"," 5000), we see Renard approaching from behind us...\n\n BOND jams the hose into the reactor, ducks down -- as the air\n blows the rod out - narrowly missing him as it shoots past --\n impales Renard in the heart, just before he could shoot.\n\n Renard stares at Bond in horror. Bond calmly takes the flare\n gun off him.\n\n BOND\n She's waiting for you.\n\n And he lets him fall past Christmas, through consecutive open","the hand, they move through the shadows of\n the sub.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - MOMENTS LATER\n\n A man is operating the tanks. Through the intercom:\n\n RENARD\n (filtered)\n Flood tanks 4 and 5...\n\n The man does as told. When he's finished -- Bond knocks him\n out with the butt of his gun.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE CONTROL ROOM - MOMENTS LATER\n\n Several","INE LOWER DECK - MOMENTS LATER\n\n Bond and Christmas get attacked. A vicious, silent fight...\n Then the radio set sparks into life --\n\n RENARD\n Open the tanks.\n\n Bond is throttling the man with the cable. Speaks into the\n handset.\n\n BOND\n (disguising voice)\n Tanks open.\n\n But the man has stretched his hand to a fire alarm:\n\n The KLAXON RESOUNDS."," AT THE ELEVATOR\n\n Bond fires at Renard, hitting his shin...\n\n WITH RENARD\n\n looking down at his shin, noticing the blood. Inconvenienced\n but not in pain. He shuts the cage doors. Pauses only to\n fire off half a clip at the SWITCH PANEL. Shreds it.\n\n Bond leaps to his feet, racing forward, firing -- gets to the\n elevator as Renard disappears upwards with a smile. He POINTS\n","onto a nearby walkway. The men\n make their way toward the factory, firing at the guards.\n Zukovsky and Christmas are forced inside.\n\n ANGLE ON BOND\n\n Who sees the danger to the others and runs off along the\n walkways back to the factory. The Chopper follows him,\n shooting.\n\n Bond outruns it, until, ahead of him A GRENADE EXPLODES,\n destroying the walkway and hurling Bond into the water.\n\n EXT. FACT"," it...the man slips it into his pocket.\n\n BOND\n Revenge isn't so hard to fathom. What's\n clever is getting someone else to pay for\n it.\n\n RENARD\n Not many people in this world have that\n kind of fortune.\n\n Bond cocks the pistol.\n\n BOND\n Who is it?\n\n RENARD\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\n get on my knees and pray for it. You,","to dust -- Bond\n dives to a recess. An overhead LIGHT SHATTERS. His section\n of the tunnel darkens.\n\n INT. PASSAGEWAY - BOND'S END\n\n Bond looks up at the broken LIGHT. Takes careful aim at the\n next one along. BLAM. It disintegrates. Again...\n\n INT. PASSAGEWAY - RENARD'S END\n\n The other guy answers with another spray of bullets. Watches\n uneasily as Bond","The chauffeur is shot and killed. The gunmen then turn their\n attention to Zukovsky and Christmas, when suddenly BOND\n APPEARS through a trap door in the floor boards.\n\n Bond shoots one of the gunmen, then fires on the other...\n Zukovsky grabs Christmas and they make their escape Bond\n sees a third gunman firing from the basement and takes him\n out.\n\n EXT. WALKWAYS - SAME\n\n Zukovsky and Christmas make a dash for Z","abs a ladder, pulls\n himself up.\n\n The hatch is closing... He splashes through the water\n flooding over the sub, appears in front of the amazed sailor\n shutting the hatch. WHACKS him with the hatch. Gets inside.\n Closes it. Milliseconds before the hatch slides under the\n water.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bond down below. Renard's crew are spread throughout the sub.\n He creeps through...\n\n","to RAPPEL UP THE SIDES OF THE\n PIT and into\n\n INT. TEST CHAMBER\n\n Where he LEAPS ON TOP OF Renard's last man. They fall\n THROUGH THE IRIS, it SHUTS behind them. The man swings his\n machine gun at Bond -- it hits the wall next to him, breaks\n apart. Bond grabs a broken section and kills him with one\n strike.\n\n He pauses at his dead body and reaches into his jacket,\n retrieving"],["ignoring her)\n Where's M?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\n\n Bond keeps his cool:\n\n BOND\n All this, because you fell for Renard?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Five more turns and your neck will break.\n\n She moves to the back of the chair, twists the screw ONE\n NOTCH. The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\n\n ","BOND\n Elektra, it's not too late. Eight\n million people needn't die.\n\n She smiles, twists the screw again. A nasty, grinding sound.\n Sweat trickles from his brow. She licks it away.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You should have killed me when you had\n the chance. But you couldn't. Not me. A\n woman you've loved.\n\n She pushes her hips into his. Turns the screw. The bolt","\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\n trying to kill me?\n\n BOND\n You can drop the act, it's over.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I don't know what you're talking about!\n\n BOND\n I think you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd","ive falls in love\n with her captor.\n\n At the word \"love,\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\n unsuspecting Bond hard across the face.\n\n ELEKTRA\n How dare you! How dare you! That\n animal!? That monster!? He disgusts me!\n You disgust me! So he knew where to hurt\n you, is that it? You had a sling on your\n arm at the funeral! I didn't have to\n sleep with you to find that","ved window.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\n\n Bond ignores her.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I could have given you the world.\n\n BOND\n Not interested.\n\n This cuts. She casually reaches behind his neck, flips up a\n wooden arm to which is attached a metal collar. A GAROTTE.\n\n ELEKTRA\n They were digging near here and they\n found some very pretty vases. They also\n ","you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Syndrome.\n It's common in kidnappings. A young\n impressionable victim. Sheltered,\n sexually inexperienced. A powerful\n kidnapper skilled in torture, in\n manipulation. Something snaps in the\n victim's mind. The captive falls in love\n with her captor.\n\n At the word \"love,\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an","Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\n carved chair, covered in silk.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to guards)\n Take her to Renard.\n\n Bond and Christmas exchange a look as the guards start her\n towards some steps.\n\n Elektra indicates for him to sit. Behind him, the whole of\n Istanbul is visible through a large curved window.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\n\n Bond ignores her.\n\n","pares to turn it the last\n time...His hand strains at its binding...\n\n BOND\n One... last... screw?\n\n ELEKTRA\n (kissing his ear)\n Oh James.\n\n She begins to turn the screw...\n\n ... when SEVERAL GUNSHOTS are heard outside.\n\n Bond is on the edge of consciousness.\n\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TO",".\n\n ELEKTRA\n They were digging near here and they\n found some very pretty vases. They also\n found this...\n (meaning the garotte)\n I think we ignore the old ways at our\n peril, don't you?\n\n Bond recoils as she fastens the collar... She steps back.\n\n BOND\n (ignoring her)\n Where's M?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\n\n Bond","\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\n\n ELEKTRA\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\n\n BOND\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\n what's the point of living if you can't\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\n Isn't that your motto?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n Or did you steal it from your","amused as\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\n to shoot Bond!\n\n Bond stares back. Zukovsky's eye narrows -- trying for\n extreme accuracy...\n\n BLAM! The SHOT hits the binding at Bond's wrist. Splinters\n the wood there.\n\n ELEKTRA stares at Zukovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\n further","\n\n ELEKTRA\n What are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n Or did you steal it from your old friend\n Renard?\n\n ELEKTRA\n ...what?\n\n BOND\n We had a run-in, he and I. He knew about\n us, he knew about my shoulder, he knew\n exactly where to hurt me...\n\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the","saw me. You knew\n it would be like this.\n\n BOND\n Shush.\n\n Her hand dips in an ice bucket beside the bed. She rubs a\n slither of ice down her chest, shudders with pleasure. It's\n a move Bond hasn't seen before.\n\n Now she brings the ice to his shoulder.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Poor shoulder. Looks painful...\n\n She kisses his purple flesh. Licks.\n\n BOND\n "," The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Since I was a child, I've always had a\n power over men. When I realized my father\n wouldn't rescue me from the kidnappers, I\n knew I had to form a new alliance.\n\n BOND\n (realizing)\n You turned Renard.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (smiling)\n Just like you..."," ELEKTRA\n James. You can't kill me. Not in cold\n blood.\n\n But Bond isn't wavering. Clutches Zukovsky's bloody wet gun.\n\n He heads up in the semi-darkness -- and suddenly swings to\n his right, at an unexpected but familiar Voice:\n\n M\n Bond --\n\n Bond kicks open a door and enters...\n\n M'S PRISON ROOM\n\n He fires at the lock on her cell door and f","ances at\n Zukovsky's corpse. Slightly puzzled, to Bond:\n\n ELEKTRA\n Zukovsky really hated you.\n (beat)\n Time to say goodnight.\n\n And she kisses him -- reaches behind to deliver the killer\n twist...\n\n One super-fast movement:\n\n Bond's hand breaks free, grabs her throat, tight. He holds\n her, their faces close together, disdain in his eyes -- hurls\n her backwards, her hand","\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\n\n Elektra crosses the hallway as the doors open. Kisses Bond\n on the cheek as she eyes Christmas.\n\n ELEKTRA\n James Bond and his amazing resurrection.\n If only you'd kept away, we might have\n met again in a few years, become lovers\n once more.\n\n Christmas eyes Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\n carved chair, covered in silk.\n\n ELEKTRA\n","ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\n\n RENARD\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\n dead? It's what you wanted.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (beat)\n Of course...\n\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\n\n RENARD\n He was a...good lover?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing","TRA\n Poor shoulder. Looks painful...\n\n She kisses his purple flesh. Licks.\n\n BOND\n ...needs constant attention...\n\n She slides her tongue back and fore along the groove above\n the tendon. And he pulls the ice from her hand:\n\n BOND\n Enough ice for one day.\n\n Tosses it across the room as passion takes over...\n\n INT. BEDROOM, ELEKTRA'S VILLA - LATER\n\n A p","\n\n She walks over, puts her heel on his gun arm, presses down,\n smiling a half-psychotic smile. The gun is pinned.\n\n Zukovsky is dying.\n\n But he dredges up every last ounce of energy to raise his gun\n a millimetre off the ground, his outstretched arm already\n pointing at Bond. Elektra looks surprised, then amused as\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\n to shoot Bond!\n\n"],["chamber up...\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE, BOSPHORUS - CONTINUOUS\n\n The submarine is slowly sinking, nose down. Air is escaping\n from the many seams that are creeping apart. We can hear the\n metallic GROANS through the water.\n\n INT. TORPEDO ROOM\n\n Bond and Christmas crawl into TORPEDO CHAMBERS...\n\n Bond reaches out, setting a timer to FIRE...\n\n The clock ticks down...\n","He gets inside, yanks it closed...\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n Christmas, shivering in the rising water.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Twenty.\n\n She presses a button...\n\n INT. CHAMBER BEYOND (NOW ABOVE) REACTOR - CONTINUOUS\n\n The hatch opens and Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\n The hatch closes.\n\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here","Bond and Christmas are ahead of the water. They have reached\n a level where various systems are operated from.\n\n BOND\n There's one chance.\n\n He punches buttons.\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE, BOSPHORUS - CONTINUOUS\n\n High up on the sub, a hatch opens. Water floods into an\n escape hatch. An inner door stops it getting into the\n submarine itself.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUO","ORPEDO CHAMBERS...\n\n Bond reaches out, setting a timer to FIRE...\n\n The clock ticks down...\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE - UNDERWATER BOSPHORUS - DAY\n\n The Torpedo doors open and Bond and Christmas are SHOT OUT\n INTO THE WATER, streaking through, as behind them...\n\n THE SUBMARINE EXPLODES in spectacular fashion.\n\n EXT. SURFACE, BOSPHORUS - DAY\n\n ","\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n THE GAUGE IS PASSING 4900, EDGING TOWARDS THE NO-WAY-BACK\n 5000 MARK. Meltdown imminent...\n\n He looks down the sub -- more water racing upward...\n\n Back to the pile. Scans the scene, searching for an idea.\n Sees a HOSE, compressed air escaping from a fissure. Thinks\n fast. Grabs the hose,"," Everything not screwed\n down starts sliding...\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS - LONG SHOT\n\n The submarine is tilting, further and further, the nose\n dropping down and down...\n\n Pretty soon we have the strange and incredible sight of a\n submarine hanging vertically, nose down.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER, SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n Renard hangs on, swings, until he can get a footing on the\n nearest"," An inner door stops it getting into the\n submarine itself.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\n\n Renard slowly inserts the plutonium rod. Immediately the\n light around him becomes a deeper blue, a horrible\n luminescence. The staccato click of a distant Geiger counter\n intensifies.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n As Bond opens the inner door of an ESCAPE HATCH, he points\n out"," RENARD scans the water with night-vision binoculars.\n\n EXT. BOSPHORUS - NIGHT - HIS GREEN POV:\n\n A SUPERTANKER churns along...\n\n ADJUST ANGLE\n\n The CAMERA SINKS BENEATH THE WAVES, steals through the gloom -\n - eventually comes upon something sitting just beneath the\n belly of the tanker. The silhouette of a SUBMARINE, hugging\n the tanker'","up.\n\n Passes the conning tower.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Fourteen, one thousand, fifteen, one\n thousand...\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE - UNDERWATER\n\n Bond is running out of air...\n\n And then he sees it -- the open hatch of the rear escape\n door.\n\n He gets inside, yanks it closed...\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n Christmas, shivering","Tanks open.\n\n But the man has stretched his hand to a fire alarm:\n\n The KLAXON RESOUNDS.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE CONTROL ROOM - CONTINUOUS\n\n Renard looks up.\n\n RENARD\n (to self)\n Bond...\n\n He flicks a switch;\n\n RENARD\n (into mic)\n Bond! You have decided to join me on this\n historic voyage. Welcome to my nuclear\n family"," Count to twenty. I'll be there.\n\n She moves over and seals the door, wrenches a lever which\n immediately floods the chamber with water.\n\n INT. ESCAPE HATCH - CONTINUOUS\n\n Inside the chamber, Bond holds his breath as water seeps in.\n The most claustrophobic thing you've ever seen.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n A green light comes on and Christmas punches a button...\n\n EX","\n Nuclear.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Not just nuclear. Powered by a nuclear\n reactor.\n (the penny drops)\n He's not loading any cargo. They want the\n sub. The sub itself.\n Put weapons grade plutonium inside the\n sub's reactor: Instant, catastrophic\n meltdown.\n\n BOND\n Made to look just like an accident.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Mother of God.\n\n ","AME\n\n Christmas is counting.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n One, one thousand, two, one thousand...\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE - UNDERWATER\n\n It's dark out here. It would be very easy for Bond to get\n disoriented.\n\n He peers around, trying to get his bearings against the vast\n vertical whale he's swimming up.\n\n Passes the conning tower.\n\n INT. SUBMARINE\n\n CHRISTMAS\n "," Elektra would control it all.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n If what you say it true...it may be too\n late for Yevgeny.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n INT. SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - ISTANBUL - DAY\n\n The ancient arched underbelly of a waterside building.\n\n Something is disturbing a large expanse of water. A black\n shadow looms beneath the waves. A SUBMARINE","TINUOUS\n\n Bond down below. Renard's crew are spread throughout the sub.\n He creeps through...\n\n Approaches one man working some levers, smoking. Bond holds\n his gun to his head.\n\n BOND\n How do you want to die?\n (re: cigarette)\n That?\n (re: gun)\n Or this?\n\n INT. CABIN, SUBMARINE - MOMENTS LATER\n\n A few SOLID B","Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\n The hatch closes.\n\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here. Bond looks down at\n the sealed door of the reactor chamber, curses.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bathed in the horrible light of the over-heating reactor,\n Renard looks upwards, aware of sounds on the other side of\n the door...\n\n KER-BLAM! A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT.","blow with his feet. Both rigs moving together now, he CLIMBS\n ONTO THE BOMB RIG...Puts out a hand, helps Christmas across.\n\n The bomb sits there, daunting, deadly.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Tactical fission device. Low yield.\n\n They look at one another, then set straight to work.\n\n INT. COMMAND ROOM - PIPELINE CONTROL CENTRE - CONTINUOUS\n\n The room is quiet, tense. M and","him, is flung back, nearly falls through\n the hatch but manages to grab a pipe, hangs on for dear life.\n\n THE GAUGE HITS 4700\n\n\n BOND AND RENARD\n\n struggle... Both slamming into switches and buttons.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n OMITTED 314-316\n\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\n\n THE GAUGE IS PASSING 4900"," To the room:\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n I'm looking for a submarine. It's big\n and black, and the driver is a friend of\n mine.\n\n Then his eye falls on the HAT Renard had brought up from\n below. He knows at once what it means.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Bring it to me.\n\n She picks it up, walks to him (surreptitiously sliding a gun\n beneath it). She proffers the hat...\n","\n\n Something is disturbing a large expanse of water. A black\n shadow looms beneath the waves. A SUBMARINE SURFACES.\n\n INT. SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - ISTANBUL - DAY\n\n Waiting at the newly excavated quay: Renard and his men.\n\n The submarine's hatch opens. A YOUTHFUL CAPTAIN EMERGES,\n vaguely resembling his uncle, Z"],["procedure, Mr. Bond,\n but you understand, a man in my\n position..\n\n BOND\n Which is neutral, no doubt.\n\n Lachaise takes the joke a little tight-lipped. Gestures for\n Bond to sit.\n\n A GIRL ENTERS, a gorgeous Swiss bombshell in a pin-striped\n suit. She pushes a cart. On it are a BRIEFCASE and a box of\n EXPENSIVE CIGARS, which she offers to Lachaise and Bond","INT. BANK - GENEVA - DAY\n\n Bond appears on the top floor of the grand old building, by\n the elevator. Looks over the balcony, sees figures on the\n stairs. Hears the elevator cage start from below.\n\n Thinking fast, he wrenches open the steel gate, leans into\n the lift shaft, watches the elevator COUNTERWEIGHT as it\n comes down. Almost nonchalant, he steps out...\n\n INT. STAIRWELL/ELEVATOR SHAFT - DAY","source.\n\n INT. HALLWAY OFFICE BUILDING - DAY\n\n An engraved brass plaque announcing the name of the \"private\n banking institute\" within.\n\n INT. PENTHOUSE BANK OFFICE - GENEVA - DAY\n\n JAMES BOND, dressed impeccably as ever, is being FRISKED by\n three THUGS in Armani suits. They remove A GUN from inside\n his jacket, a well-concealed knife, a metal case, laying them","Armani suits. They remove A GUN from inside\n his jacket, a well-concealed knife, a metal case, laying them\n on the desk that separates Bond and...\n\n LACHAISE...an extremely well-groomed gentleman. Behind him,\n three floor-to-ceiling windows lead out to a rooftop garden.\n\n LACHAISE\n Not the usual Swiss procedure, Mr. Bond,\n but you understand, a man in my\n position..\n\n BOND\n Which is neutral","cigar into his pocket...\n\n Except Henchman #1 has recovered, blocks his way, gun in\n hand. He starts to squeeze the trigger -- when a RED DOT\n appears on his chest...another window SHATTERS as a bullet\n zings through and pierces the henchman in the heart.\n\n Bond looks back once at the shattered window, then heads out.\n\n INT. BANK - GENEVA - DAY\n\n Bond appears on the top floor of the grand old building, by\n the elevator.","and opening it up...inside is a good\n deal of CASH in pound sterling.\n\n LACHAISE\n In the current exchange rate, minus the\n fees, of course, and certain\n unforeseeable expenses. Here is the\n receipt...\n\n The CIGAR GIRL offers Bond a RECEIPT...\n\n CIGAR GIRL\n Would you like to check my figures?\n\n BOND\n Perhaps later.\n\n She steps back. Bond reaches for the metal case","SE\n I am just a middle man. I am doing the\n honourable thing and returning the money\n to its rightful owner...\n\n BOND\n And we know how difficult that can be for\n the Swiss.\n\n LACHAISE\n (controlled fury)\n Your last chance. Take the money.\n\n BOND\n Your last chance. Give me the name.\n\n LACHAISE\n Stripped of all your weaponry, you still\n threaten me?\n\n","\t\t\n\n T H E W O R L D I S N O T E N O U G H\n\n (BOND 19)\n\n --------------------------------------------------------------\n\n GUN BARREL LOGO OPENS ON\n\n GENEVA SWITZERLAND, an unnaturally clean city that melds old\n Europe with new money of both dubious and legitimate source.\n\n INT. HALLWAY OFFICE BUILDING - DAY\n\n An engraved brass plaque announcing the name",". Almost nonchalant, he steps out...\n\n INT. STAIRWELL/ELEVATOR SHAFT - DAY\n\n As the cageful of police rises, Bond is now standing on the\n counterweight, DESCENDING.\n\n EXT. STREET - GENEVA\n\n Lunchtime. Faceless business crowds heading for their brief\n moment of freedom, among them we spot BOND...one of them,\n with a briefcase and a suit and tie...HOLD on his face,\n trou","He looks out at the long stretch of pipeline, like a deadly\n snake with the world for its bed.\n\n BOND\n I know I promised you champagne, but\n would you settle for caviar?\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - ISTANBUL - TWILIGHT\n\n A boat puts in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\n\n Renard disemb","the\n SECURE ROOM. Bond hands the suitcase to a STAFF MEMBER.\n\n BOND\n Have this checked, see what you can get\n off it.\n\n INT. MONEYPENNY'S OFFICE, MI-6 - DAY\n\n Bond appears, hiding something behind his back. Moneypenny\n brightens.\n\n MONEYPENNY\n James. Brought me a souvenir from\n Geneva?\n\n He produces the cigar, now in a","in background, the seaplane moors beneath the\n vast stepped cake that is MI-6. Bond exits with the\n suitcase.\n\n INT. SECURITY, MI-6 - DAY\n\n CAMERA MOVES with Bond as he enters this secret, hi-tech\n world. He passes through countless security procedures,\n watched by an attentive staff.\n\n Bond scoops the money out of the suitcase. Three million\n sterling in tightly bundled hundreds makes quite a sight. He\n f",".\n\n Bond rushes to the window...\n\n EXT. VERANDAH - ROOFS - GENEVA - DAY\n\n She swings on a WIRE across to another roof, quickly\n disappearing into shadows.\n\n Bond can hear sirens approaching. He returns to...\n\n THE OFFICE...he grabs the money and moves fast for the door,\n casually slipping that cigar into his pocket...\n\n Except Henchman #1 has recovered, blocks his way, gun in\n hand. He starts to","and a military haircut.\n\n The man seems to see Bond looking at him...\n\n M\n Bond, we'll meet you inside.\n\n Bond looks at her for a brief second...when he turns back,\n the man is gone, like an APPARITION.\n\n Bond walks off, up the grassy slope, toward the rise.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n THE VIEW ACROSS THE VALLEY\n\n Bond stands on the hill, looking below. He sees nothing but\n a green carpet,",". I need some information.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Bond, I'm a civilian. This is my place.\n Used to be the royal family's, now it's\n mine. I run my little business, I stay\n out of trouble...\n\n BOND\n (looking about)\n Mafia warlords, Diplomats and spies,\n consortiums from every country in the\n world. A nice little rat's nest.\n\n ZUKOVSKY"," INT. CAVIAR FISHERY - CITY OF WALKWAYS - DUSK (OLD SC.176)\n\n Nailed on the battered old door, the lid of a caviar jar, a\n label illustrated with a LINE DRAWING OF ZUKOVSKY. Zukovsky\n opens the door and finds himself...\n\n Staring straight down Bond's pistol. Bond and Christmas are\n silhouetted by the gold dusk light. At their feet lies one\n of Zukov","it are a BRIEFCASE and a box of\n EXPENSIVE CIGARS, which she offers to Lachaise and Bond.\n\n LACHAISE\n It wasn't easy, but I retrieved the\n money. No doubt Sir Robert will be\n pleased to see it again.\n\n The efficient Cigar Girl brings the briefcase to Bond,\n setting it in his lap and opening it up...inside is a good\n deal of CASH in pound sterling.\n\n LACHAISE\n In"," them turns to look back, unaware that she is on display. She\n returns Bond's smile. Her friend turns to look. Bond's\n smile grows: she has a small pistol concealed over one\n breast.\n\n INT. CASINO NOIR D'OR, BAKU - NIGHT\n\n He looks over the lenses -- and spies someone on the fringes.\n His old adversary, ex-KGB, VALENTIN ZUKOVSKY, talking to some\n suspicious types. Zuk","\n I can't tell you...\n (Bond cocks the gun)\n Alright, alright! But you must protect\n me!\n\n And he freezes. The handle of a THROWING KNIFE is sticking\n out of his neck. Bond looks up, catches sight of the CIGAR\n GIRL as she vaults out the broken window and onto THE ROOF.\n\n Bond rushes to the window...\n\n EXT. VERANDAH - ROOFS - GENEVA - DAY\n","OKER is soon\n wrapping herself around him. After a few words, she leads him\n off toward the back.\n\n Bond returns to the game, shaking his head. He watches as\n THE DEALER DEALS FROM THE SHOE.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n INT. SALON PRIV - NIGHT\n\n A small room. Lit by sconces that sport LIVE FLAMES. Tacky-\n luxurious, a refracted Eastern reflection on an old west\n wh"],["He shouted. He shouted all the time --\n\n Bond touches Elektra's face, freezing her tears.\n\n His eyes wander to the photo with the ransom demand:\n $5,000,000. A thought forms. He takes out his wallet,\n opening it and removing:\n\n THE RECEIPT FROM LACHAISE.\n\n E.C.U. The strange figure, in pounds: 3,030,303.03.\n\n Bond taps some keys","it are a BRIEFCASE and a box of\n EXPENSIVE CIGARS, which she offers to Lachaise and Bond.\n\n LACHAISE\n It wasn't easy, but I retrieved the\n money. No doubt Sir Robert will be\n pleased to see it again.\n\n The efficient Cigar Girl brings the briefcase to Bond,\n setting it in his lap and opening it up...inside is a good\n deal of CASH in pound sterling.\n\n LACHAISE\n In","s files?\n\n BOND\n I took the initiative.\n\n M\n You haven't been given an assignment in\n this case.\n\n BOND\n I was the one who brought that money\n in...\n\n M\n I'm well aware of your stake in this,\n 007.\n If you have a point, get to it.\n\n BOND\n The amount of money that killed Robert\n King is the same amount as the ransom\n demand for","\n\n BOND\n The amount of money that killed Robert\n King is the same amount as the ransom\n demand for Elektra.\n\n He hands her a slip of paper.\n\n BOND\n Whoever kidnapped Elektra is the same man\n who killed her father.\n\n M looks at the paper, a long time.\n\n M\n It's a message. He wants us to know he's\n back.\n\n BOND\n Who?\n\n "," BOND\n Old friend?\n\n M\n Since Oxford. I knew him when he had\n nothing but a brilliant mind and enough\n guts to conquer the world. He's a man of\n great integrity.\n\n BOND\n Who buys classified reports for three\n million pounds.\n\n M picks up the report from her desk. Bond notices it is in\n Russian, with a SEAL from a Russian military agency in the\n corner: MIRATOM.\n\n M\n It","and opening it up...inside is a good\n deal of CASH in pound sterling.\n\n LACHAISE\n In the current exchange rate, minus the\n fees, of course, and certain\n unforeseeable expenses. Here is the\n receipt...\n\n The CIGAR GIRL offers Bond a RECEIPT...\n\n CIGAR GIRL\n Would you like to check my figures?\n\n BOND\n Perhaps later.\n\n She steps back. Bond reaches for the metal case","number in pound sterling, calculated down to the penny:\n\n 3,030,303.03.\n\n LACHAISE\n It's all there.\n\n Bond folds the receipt, slips it into his WALLET...then, he\n removes the glasses, slowly, deliberately, eyeing Lachaise.\n\n BOND\n I didn't come for the money. The report\n you sold him was stolen from an MI-6\n agent, who was killed for it.\n\n","t come for the money. The report\n you sold him was stolen from an MI-6\n agent, who was killed for it.\n\n He takes a photo from his jacket and lays it on the desk.\n\n LACHAISE\n I did not get the report from an MI-6\n agent.\n\n BOND\n Who did you get it from?\n\n LACHAISE\n I am just a middle man. I am doing the\n honourable thing and returning the money\n to its rightful owner...\n"," King moves toward Bond with an easy, patrician smile. Bond\n notes a TINY BADGE in his lapel -- like the glass eye of a\n stuffed snake.\n\n SIR ROBERT\n Thanks for getting my money back --never\n expected to see it again. You're the\n kind of man I could use. Though I won't\n offend certain parties by asking you to\n join King Industries.\n\n King looks to M, smiling.\n\n BOND\n Construction's not","...\n\n Bond's eyes flare in fury. He shoves Renard into the wall\n and presses the gun to his temple.\n\n BOND\n You will never touch her. You will never\n get near her.\n\n RENARD\n Have you forgotten who saved your life in\n Geneva?\n\n BOND\n Consider me ungrateful.\n\n RENARD\n It's I who should thank you -- for taking\n that money back to MI-6. So distress","000,000 US DOLLARS.' He stares at it.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n INT. PASSAGEWAY - CASTLE THANE (MI-6 HQ) - DUSK\n\n Bond paces the flagstones, FOOTSTEPS ECHOING.\n\n INT. BRIEFING ROOM - CASTLE THANE (MI-6 HQ) - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bond opens the door on M who stands alone by the window,\n","looking private, cadaverously thin, and a\n big, thick-necked tough.\n\n They all look at Bond, expectantly, waiting for him to say or\n do...what? He decides to take the lead. He opens the\n briefcase and hands over the STACKS OF MONEY.\n\n The Pilot passes it out. But that isn't the end. They still\n stare at him. The Pilot says something IN RUSSIAN that\n sounds like...\"where's the rest?\"\n\n Bond swallows","in background, the seaplane moors beneath the\n vast stepped cake that is MI-6. Bond exits with the\n suitcase.\n\n INT. SECURITY, MI-6 - DAY\n\n CAMERA MOVES with Bond as he enters this secret, hi-tech\n world. He passes through countless security procedures,\n watched by an attentive staff.\n\n Bond scoops the money out of the suitcase. Three million\n sterling in tightly bundled hundreds makes quite a sight. He\n f","What's your business with Elektra King?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n I thought you were the one in her\n business.\n\n BOND\n She dropped a million and half dollars to\n the House -- your House. And you didn't\n even bat an eyelid. She was paying you\n off. What for?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n As ever you are the spy who has to see a\n plot wherever he looks.\n\n Bond SLAMS Zukovsky","the\n SECURE ROOM. Bond hands the suitcase to a STAFF MEMBER.\n\n BOND\n Have this checked, see what you can get\n off it.\n\n INT. MONEYPENNY'S OFFICE, MI-6 - DAY\n\n Bond appears, hiding something behind his back. Moneypenny\n brightens.\n\n MONEYPENNY\n James. Brought me a souvenir from\n Geneva?\n\n He produces the cigar, now in a","to the region.\n He married into the Vavra family, rich\n local industrialists. He used those\n connections to hold it all together.\n\n BOND\n Kill the man, kill the pipeline.\n\n M\n Not necessarily. Not with Elektra taking\n over.\n\n Tanner notices a RED LIGHT start pulsing. He moves to M:\n\n TANNER\n Your call to the PM.\n\n M nods grimly. As Robinson distributes sealed envelopes:",".\n\n Bond rushes to the window...\n\n EXT. VERANDAH - ROOFS - GENEVA - DAY\n\n She swings on a WIRE across to another roof, quickly\n disappearing into shadows.\n\n Bond can hear sirens approaching. He returns to...\n\n THE OFFICE...he grabs the money and moves fast for the door,\n casually slipping that cigar into his pocket...\n\n Except Henchman #1 has recovered, blocks his way, gun in\n hand. He starts to"," I'll need some help...\n\n Her IDA colleagues look sheepish. Bond moves to her.\n\n BOND\n Come on.\n\n For just a moment, Christmas looks wary:\n\n BOND\n Unless you'd like to see my ID first.\n\n She almost smiles.\n\n M nods to Tanner to follow them. Bond doesn't look at\n Elektra. But she watches him go...\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. HEL","oops the money out of the suitcase. Three million\n sterling in tightly bundled hundreds makes quite a sight. He\n flicks his finger through the last wad, tosses it down\n wistfully. A blue light scans it on three axis.\n\n The money is bundled into a clear plastic bag, put on a tray\n and wheeled through a series of barred enclosures into the\n SECURE ROOM. Bond hands the suitcase to a STAFF MEMBER.\n\n BOND\n Have"," ZUKOVSKY\n Help me, don't let me drown.\n\n She looks to Bond -- sees he's serious.\n\n BOND\n (to Zukovsky)\n You're in this thing up to your neck.\n\n Zukovsky sinks alarmingly -- he talks rapidly, staccato:\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Alright, alright! Sometimes I smuggle\n machinery for her. Russian stuff.\n\n BOND\n And"],["Bond shoots around the corner just in time to see Sir Robert\n disappearing past the THICK STEEL DOOR of the secure room.\n\n BOND\n Stop! King!\n\n INT. SECURITY, MI-6 - CONTINUOUS\n\n The shout is muffled, Sir Robert's more interested in the\n money.\n\n He continues toward camera, that PIN on his lapel emits a\n serene HUM and we\n\n CUT TO:\n\n CLOSE ON THE","him\n and the cash. An official produces a bag and moves toward\n it:\n\n SIR ROBERT\n Thanks, but I'll count it myself.\n (apologetic, smiles)\n Lifetime habit. I'm Scottish.\n\n INT. LOWER CORRIDORS/SECURITY AREA, MI-6 - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bond shoots around the corner just in time to see Sir Robert\n disappearing past the THICK STEEL DOOR of the secure room.\n\n"," BOND\n Perhaps Sir Robert had a word with the\n Man Upstairs.\n\n WOMAN\n A word? I'm sure by now he's engineered a\n hostile takeover.\n\n BOND\n You knew him well?\n\n The sun glints off her bejewelled earlobe.\n\n WOMAN\n He was my father.\n\n BOND\n I'm sorry.\n\n WOMAN\n He died before he could complete his\n","off the\n blow with a small wooden cover from a shipping crate. He\n traps the Boa's arm and gives him two quick devastating kicks\n in the solar plexus. He Boa stages back to the railing. A\n final kick from Bond sends him over the side...\n\n THE BOA FALLS, LANDING ON HIS BACK ON THE DECK BELOW WITH A\n SICKENING THUD.\n\n Bond looks down, sees the Boa's body at a horrible angle, his\n neck"," King moves toward Bond with an easy, patrician smile. Bond\n notes a TINY BADGE in his lapel -- like the glass eye of a\n stuffed snake.\n\n SIR ROBERT\n Thanks for getting my money back --never\n expected to see it again. You're the\n kind of man I could use. Though I won't\n offend certain parties by asking you to\n join King Industries.\n\n King looks to M, smiling.\n\n BOND\n Construction's not","pares to turn it the last\n time...His hand strains at its binding...\n\n BOND\n One... last... screw?\n\n ELEKTRA\n (kissing his ear)\n Oh James.\n\n She begins to turn the screw...\n\n ... when SEVERAL GUNSHOTS are heard outside.\n\n Bond is on the edge of consciousness.\n\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TO"," jubilation. Effectively, he's a dead man.\n\n She presses a button, the hologram turns...\n\n M\n The bullet is moving through the medulla\n oblongata, killing off his sense of\n touch. He feels no pain. He can push\n himself harder, longer than any normal\n man.\n\n BOND\n 'That which does not kill me makes me\n stronger.'\n\n M\n Now Robert is dead. He got his revenge.\n\n BOND",".\n (nods to M's door)\n She's in with Sir Robert.\n\n INT. M'S OFFICE, MI-6 - DAY\n\n Bond enters. SIR ROBERT KING is perched on the edge of M's\n desk. Two glasses, a bottle of scotch open.\n\n M\n Sir Robert King, James Bond.\n\n King moves toward Bond with an easy, patrician smile. Bond\n notes a TINY BADGE in his lapel -- like the","The chauffeur is shot and killed. The gunmen then turn their\n attention to Zukovsky and Christmas, when suddenly BOND\n APPEARS through a trap door in the floor boards.\n\n Bond shoots one of the gunmen, then fires on the other...\n Zukovsky grabs Christmas and they make their escape Bond\n sees a third gunman firing from the basement and takes him\n out.\n\n EXT. WALKWAYS - SAME\n\n Zukovsky and Christmas make a dash for Z","\n WOMAN\n Beautiful, isn't it?\n\n BOND\n Yes.\n\n She steps up to the ridge with him. A breeze blows her hair.\n They stare out. The sun's rays have broken the clouds and\n strafe the valley.\n\n WOMAN\n Today, of all days, the sun decides to\n shine.\n\n BOND\n Perhaps Sir Robert had a word with the\n Man Upstairs.\n\n WOMAN\n A word","flatter the guests.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n That too. Everyone does what they can to\n survive.\n\n BOND\n How high up does this...arms dealing go?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Bond. If someone wants you dead, it is\n Renard. Our government has nothing to\n gain by killing you.\n\n BOND\n But you would have something to gain by\n killing Robert King. And stopping his\n pipeline.\n\n This hits Zukovsky.","you can't...feel alive.\n\n Bond knows that, he's heard it somewhere before...IT FREEZES\n HIM, just a beat, but it is enough...\n\n SUDDENLY, the noise of footsteps -- CHRISTMAS JONES, with\n COLONEL AKAKIEVICH and two armed soldiers.\n\n We're with them as they turn the corner of the passageway and\n see Bond with silenced pistol aimed at the kneeling Renard --\n classic execution stance:\n\n COL"," 5000), we see Renard approaching from behind us...\n\n BOND jams the hose into the reactor, ducks down -- as the air\n blows the rod out - narrowly missing him as it shoots past --\n impales Renard in the heart, just before he could shoot.\n\n Renard stares at Bond in horror. Bond calmly takes the flare\n gun off him.\n\n BOND\n She's waiting for you.\n\n And he lets him fall past Christmas, through consecutive open","ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\n\n RENARD\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\n dead? It's what you wanted.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (beat)\n Of course...\n\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\n\n RENARD\n He was a...good lover?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing","ENNY\n James. Brought me a souvenir from\n Geneva?\n\n He produces the cigar, now in a large phallic TUBE. Stands\n it end up on the desk.\n\n BOND\n Thought you might want one of these.\n\n MONEYPENNY\n (beat, deadpan)\n I gave up a long time ago.\n (nods to M's door)\n She's in with Sir Robert.\n\n INT. M'S OFF","dead.\n\n Bond runs out, into\n\n EXT. STREET - DAY\n\n Teeming with people, his eyes scanning, he spots...THE BOA\n climbing a ladder alongside a building to A ROOF.\n\n Bond chases after him, clambering up, but when he gets to the\n top of the roof...\n\n Boa has now been joined by THREE THUGS. One attacks Bond as\n the Boa and the others move away...\n\n Bond fights with the thug, they stumble across",", yanks a PISTOL from his holster, GRABS Christmas,\n LEAPS down into the bomb PIT just as\n\n RENARD'S MEN open fire... Akakievich dies straight away. So\n do two of his men. The gunfire RICOCHETS around the chamber\n and ceases.\n\n Renard hangs back. His radio crackles a message:\n\n RENARD\n (nods, into radio)\n Shut them.\n\n THE GUY ON",". All vulnerable to\n unstable governments or Russian blockade.\n\n BOND\n So Sir Robert's goes through Turkey,\n direct to the Med...?\n\n ROBINSON\n A huge project. The most expensive of the\n pipelines, but the one supported by every\n Western leader. None of the American oil\n companies were willing to take it on.\n But King has connections to the region.\n He married into the Vavra family, rich\n local industrialists. He used those\n connections to hold it all"," (beat)\n That bullet is still there.\n\n Bond moves toward the ghostly Renard. We now see THE BULLET\n INSIDE HIS SKULL.\n\n BOND\n He survived?\n\n M\n The doctor who saved him couldn't get it\n out, so Renard killed him. When Interpol\n found the x-rays, there was mild\n jubilation. Effectively, he's a dead man.\n\n She presses a button, the hologram turns...\n\n","to the region.\n He married into the Vavra family, rich\n local industrialists. He used those\n connections to hold it all together.\n\n BOND\n Kill the man, kill the pipeline.\n\n M\n Not necessarily. Not with Elektra taking\n over.\n\n Tanner notices a RED LIGHT start pulsing. He moves to M:\n\n TANNER\n Your call to the PM.\n\n M nods grimly. As Robinson distributes sealed envelopes:"],["The chauffeur is shot and killed. The gunmen then turn their\n attention to Zukovsky and Christmas, when suddenly BOND\n APPEARS through a trap door in the floor boards.\n\n Bond shoots one of the gunmen, then fires on the other...\n Zukovsky grabs Christmas and they make their escape Bond\n sees a third gunman firing from the basement and takes him\n out.\n\n EXT. WALKWAYS - SAME\n\n Zukovsky and Christmas make a dash for Z",", yanks a PISTOL from his holster, GRABS Christmas,\n LEAPS down into the bomb PIT just as\n\n RENARD'S MEN open fire... Akakievich dies straight away. So\n do two of his men. The gunfire RICOCHETS around the chamber\n and ceases.\n\n Renard hangs back. His radio crackles a message:\n\n RENARD\n (nods, into radio)\n Shut them.\n\n THE GUY ON","off the\n blow with a small wooden cover from a shipping crate. He\n traps the Boa's arm and gives him two quick devastating kicks\n in the solar plexus. He Boa stages back to the railing. A\n final kick from Bond sends him over the side...\n\n THE BOA FALLS, LANDING ON HIS BACK ON THE DECK BELOW WITH A\n SICKENING THUD.\n\n Bond looks down, sees the Boa's body at a horrible angle, his\n neck","\n\n She walks over, puts her heel on his gun arm, presses down,\n smiling a half-psychotic smile. The gun is pinned.\n\n Zukovsky is dying.\n\n But he dredges up every last ounce of energy to raise his gun\n a millimetre off the ground, his outstretched arm already\n pointing at Bond. Elektra looks surprised, then amused as\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\n to shoot Bond!\n\n"," it...the man slips it into his pocket.\n\n BOND\n Revenge isn't so hard to fathom. What's\n clever is getting someone else to pay for\n it.\n\n RENARD\n Not many people in this world have that\n kind of fortune.\n\n Bond cocks the pistol.\n\n BOND\n Who is it?\n\n RENARD\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\n get on my knees and pray for it. You,",".\n\n Bond looks at the pack he left on the ground...\n\n He grabs Christmas and HURLS HER TO THE FLOOR.\n\n KABOOM!\n\n A MASSIVE EXPLOSION rips the place apart. In half a second\n the air is thick with coloured dust and drifting clumps of\n burning silk.\n\n Bond stands. Christmas is stunned, but okay. He looks\n around at the others - few dead, all out for the count, among\n them, Zukovsky","dead.\n\n Bond runs out, into\n\n EXT. STREET - DAY\n\n Teeming with people, his eyes scanning, he spots...THE BOA\n climbing a ladder alongside a building to A ROOF.\n\n Bond chases after him, clambering up, but when he gets to the\n top of the roof...\n\n Boa has now been joined by THREE THUGS. One attacks Bond as\n the Boa and the others move away...\n\n Bond fights with the thug, they stumble across","cigar into his pocket...\n\n Except Henchman #1 has recovered, blocks his way, gun in\n hand. He starts to squeeze the trigger -- when a RED DOT\n appears on his chest...another window SHATTERS as a bullet\n zings through and pierces the henchman in the heart.\n\n Bond looks back once at the shattered window, then heads out.\n\n INT. BANK - GENEVA - DAY\n\n Bond appears on the top floor of the grand old building, by\n the elevator.","HEAD with\n his gun when...\n\n THE BUS TURNS onto a new street...THE WIRES AGAIN...Thug\n Two's gun is caught up in them...he is instantly\n ELECTROCUTED.\n\n Thug three watches his friend's horrible death, giving Bond\n time to slug him hard across the face and THROW HIM FROM THE\n BUS...\n\n EXT. STREET\n\n Thug two's body goes SLAMMING INTO THE WINDSHIELD of","higher, the Cigar Girl begins\n FIRING AT HIM over the edge of the carriage.\n\n Bond, with ONE HAND, returns fire.\n\n CIGAR GIRL then leans over the edge of the carriage and\n begins to SLICE THE ROPE that Bond is hanging from.\n\n The fibers split and fray away from each other as...\n\n BOND FALLS, heading straight toward...\n\n THE MILLENNIUM DOME, which the balloon has drifted over.\n\n AS HE PLUM","S. One attacks Bond as\n the Boa and the others move away...\n\n Bond fights with the thug, they stumble across the roof,\n gripping each other, until Bond gets the upper hand and\n THROWS HIM DOWN through a thatched roof where he falls...\n\n EXT. BAZAAR\n\n Into the market below.\n\n Christmas, just coming into the square, sees the body\n falling...she runs to the thug, thinking it might be Bond...\n\n But the thug raises up, smiling at"," Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\n to placate...\n\n DAVIDOV\n The plane...it's all been arranged...\n\n RENARD\n Then you are completely unnecessary...\n\n Renard raises the container of oil over Davidov's head:\n\n DAVIDOV\n I have the documents, the landing\n authorizations, the security passes...\n\n Renard stops, the oil tilted, just ready to pour...\n\n His dead eye...has it drooped","Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\n The hatch closes.\n\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here. Bond looks down at\n the sealed door of the reactor chamber, curses.\n\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\n\n Bathed in the horrible light of the over-heating reactor,\n Renard looks upwards, aware of sounds on the other side of\n the door...\n\n KER-BLAM! A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT.","heading straight toward...\n\n THE MILLENNIUM DOME, which the balloon has drifted over.\n\n AS HE PLUMMETS DOWNWARD...Bond, never surrendering, still\n FIRES HIS WEAPON up at the balloon. A bullet hits the gas\n tank...\n\n EXT. BALLOON - DAY\n\n The BALLOON EXPLODES IN A MASSIVE FIREBALL taking the Cigar\n Girl with it...\n\n EXT. MILLENNI","\n Suddenly the Boa's foot kicks out, knocking the gun across\n the room. He tighten his grip and speaks in Bond's ear.\n\n BOA\n For years I was told I could never take\n the great James Bond and his Walther PPK.\n What good is your gun now, Bond?\n\n Bond can't breathe, his eyes start to dim. He slumps\n forward, his left hand touches something hot. It's the iron\n basket of coals used to keep the water pipes l","INT. BANK - GENEVA - DAY\n\n Bond appears on the top floor of the grand old building, by\n the elevator. Looks over the balcony, sees figures on the\n stairs. Hears the elevator cage start from below.\n\n Thinking fast, he wrenches open the steel gate, leans into\n the lift shaft, watches the elevator COUNTERWEIGHT as it\n comes down. Almost nonchalant, he steps out...\n\n INT. STAIRWELL/ELEVATOR SHAFT - DAY"," Sees a HOSE, compressed air escaping from a fissure. Thinks\n fast. Grabs the hose, snaps it free...\n\n RENARD\n\n is recovering, has found a FLARE GUN near him. Raises it to\n Bond...\n\n BOND'S POV\n\n in the reflection of the gauge (which is millimeters from\n 5000), we see Renard approaching from behind us...\n\n BOND jams the hose into the reactor, d",".\n\n Bond rushes to the window...\n\n EXT. VERANDAH - ROOFS - GENEVA - DAY\n\n She swings on a WIRE across to another roof, quickly\n disappearing into shadows.\n\n Bond can hear sirens approaching. He returns to...\n\n THE OFFICE...he grabs the money and moves fast for the door,\n casually slipping that cigar into his pocket...\n\n Except Henchman #1 has recovered, blocks his way, gun in\n hand. He starts to","the swirling dust and smoke, he suddenly sees a wand of\n red light, pointing at his chest.\n\n All instinct, he dives for cover. Powerful, high velocity\n bullet hits blanket the area. Bond prepares to return fire,\n scanning around for the source. Through the debris he spots\n an unusual, hi-tech BOAT on the river -- long and narrow and\n low. A figure on board. THE CIGAR GIRL.\n\n ANGLE ON CIGAR GIRL\n\n She FIRES","ABOR AND ANOTHER SECURITY MAN SHOOT M'S TWO GUARDS IN THE\n HEAD...point blank, cold blood. The men fall.\n\n M looks back at Elektra, a blood-curdling glare.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to her men)\n Take her to the chopper.\n\n EXT. PIPELINE - DAY\n\n From on high we follow the snaking pipeline ... until it\n disappears in a VAST, SMOULDERING B"],["Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\n blood curiously, feeling no pain.\n\n RENARD\n A man tires of being executed.\n\n As Bond screws a silencer onto the muzzle of his gun:\n\n RENARD\n But then again...There is no point in\n living if you can't...feel alive.\n\n Bond knows that, he's heard it somewhere before...IT FREEZES\n HIM","is the\n hottest.\n\n Renard touches the glass well of oil.\n\n RENARD\n The temperature is close to five hundred\n degrees.\n\n Renard uses his knife and POPS the seal from the lamp,\n removing the well of oil...a DROP of the hot oil FALLS ON HIS\n HAND and SINGES IT BLACK in an instant...\n\n Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\n to placate...\n\n DAVIDOV\n ","?\n\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\n Tormented.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n Now she runs the ice down her neck...\n\n ELEKTRA\n But surely...\n\n ...her fingers becoming wet, she runs the ice down between\n her breasts, leaving a trail. Teasing...\n\n ELEKTRA\n ...You can feel this?\n\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\n open, enjoying"," Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\n to placate...\n\n DAVIDOV\n The plane...it's all been arranged...\n\n RENARD\n Then you are completely unnecessary...\n\n Renard raises the container of oil over Davidov's head:\n\n DAVIDOV\n I have the documents, the landing\n authorizations, the security passes...\n\n Renard stops, the oil tilted, just ready to pour...\n\n His dead eye...has it drooped","\n It throbs and shifts with the slightest facial expression,\n like an insect living just beneath his skin. One EYE seems\n slightly drooping, deadened. The other eye is sharp and black\n as anthracite. It is a frightening face. This is RENARD.\n\n RENARD\n What's his name? Our friend from MI-6?\n\n CIGAR GIRL\n James Bond.\n\n RENARD\n One of M's more accomplished tin\n soldiers.\n\n ","\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\n out the images. After a moment, he SMASHES HIS FIST through\n the hand-painted wood. Elektra looks up.\n\n HER P.O.V. A huge splinter of wood juts out of Renard's\n hand.\n\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n ","\n RENARD\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\n get on my knees and pray for it. You, on\n the other hand, you have something to\n live for, no?\n (closer now)\n She's beautiful isn't she? You should\n have seen her before. Flawless, and still\n so innocent, not such a whore in bed...\n\n Bond's eyes flare in fury. He shoves Renard into the wall\n and presses the gun to his",")\n Take him away, I don't want him around as\n we move the bomb.\n (whispered, to Bond)\n You had me. I knew you couldn't shoulder\n the responsibility...\n\n And Renard jams his hand onto Bond's shoulder, squeezing his\n collar-bone hard... Pain jolts through Bond, he drops to his\n knees in agony. He shoves Bond down. Bond's hand goes to his\n shoulder, his mind now racing -- how did he know to hurt him","\n hand.\n\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\n\n RENARD\n Nothing.\n\n Elektra comes to him. Leads him to the bed. Sits. Gently\n removes the splinter. Then, she takes an icecube from the\n bucket. Runs it along his wound.\n\n ELEKTRA\n What about this?\n\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\n Tormented.\n\n REN","elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room.\n\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You're hurting me.\n\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\n hide it.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Brought me something?\n\n He smiles, gr","\n RENARD\n It's I who should thank you -- for taking\n that money back to MI-6. So distressing\n for M. An explosion inside her lair.\n\n BOND\n She'll get over it.\n\n RENARD\n You even brought the plane for us. We\n really couldn't have done it without you.\n\n Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\n blood"," INT. SALON PRIVE\n\n The HENCHMAN holds Davidov against the wall with his huge\n fist around his neck. Near his head, the live flame of a\n SCONCE hisses, burning blue and yellow, drawing their fuel\n from the glass basin of hot oil attached beneath it.\n\n The HOOKER, obviously one of Renard's gang, has finished\n donning her khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\n onto her shoulder.\n\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\n","\n Should be dead as well. Your failure\n today is astonishing. It is a disgrace.\n\n He approaches close to him, stopping at the flaming SCONCE\n near his head.\n\n RENARD\n Do you know why the color is blue at the\n wick?\n\n Davidov starts to sweat.\n\n RENARD\n Because that is where the flame is the\n hottest.\n\n Renard touches the glass well of oil.\n\n RENARD\n The temperature is","khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\n onto her shoulder.\n\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\n\n RENARD\n Is this how you spend the money I pay\n you? And with the rest you hire fools who\n shoot like blind men?\n\n DAVIDOV\n (croaks out)\n Bond...\n\n RENARD\n Should be dead as well. Your failure\n today is astonishing. It is a disgrace.\n\n He approaches close to"," (beat)\n That bullet is still there.\n\n Bond moves toward the ghostly Renard. We now see THE BULLET\n INSIDE HIS SKULL.\n\n BOND\n He survived?\n\n M\n The doctor who saved him couldn't get it\n out, so Renard killed him. When Interpol\n found the x-rays, there was mild\n jubilation. Effectively, he's a dead man.\n\n She presses a button, the hologram turns...\n\n","in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\n\n Renard disembarks with several of his retinue, heavily laden\n with bags and cases. They enter the tower...\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - CONTINUOUS\n\n A fantastic space: stained glass windows cast myriad\n patterns over elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room","back.\n\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\n\n M\n She's insane. Is that what you did to\n her?\n\n RENARD\n No. I'm afraid it is what you did.\n\n He crosses close to the bars.\n\n RENARD\n When I took her she was...promise itself.\n So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\n force. And you left her there, at the\n mercy of a man like me"," (to Akakievich)\n were you the one who allowed him down?\n\n Colonel Akakievich looks suitably stung. But Renard is\n looking past him now, as with a quiet WHIRR, the BOMB raises\n into view on a trolley. Renard's team is ready to move.\n\n RENARD\n (to Akakievich)\n Take him away, I don't want him around as\n we move the bomb.\n (whispered, to","she used all that brilliance to get\n revenge on her father, on me.\n\n RENARD\n No. I wanted you. I wanted you for\n myself.\n\n He takes something out of his pocket. A small TRAVEL CLOCK.\n He sets it.\n\n RENARD\n Since you sent your man to kill me, I\n have been watching time tick slowly away,\n marching inevitably toward my own death.\n Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow,\n your time is up. And I"," AT THE ELEVATOR\n\n Bond fires at Renard, hitting his shin...\n\n WITH RENARD\n\n looking down at his shin, noticing the blood. Inconvenienced\n but not in pain. He shuts the cage doors. Pauses only to\n fire off half a clip at the SWITCH PANEL. Shreds it.\n\n Bond leaps to his feet, racing forward, firing -- gets to the\n elevator as Renard disappears upwards with a smile. He POINTS\n"],[" They're\n following a huge pipeline, passing a blighted petrified\n forest of twisted iron: derelict oil derricks.\n\n Elektra gestures at the oil fields they're now leaving\n behind. Receding into the distance, a DELTA OF ROADWAYS\n perched on rusting stilts juts out into the sea.\n\n ELEKTRA\n My mother's people discovered oil here\n ninety years ago. The Bolsheviks\n slaughtered them for it.","Davidov and Gabor scanning the area as well. Elektra\n speaks to the foreman.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Send the pipe around.\n\n FOREMAN\n It will take weeks, cost millions.\n Your father approved this route.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Then my father was wrong.\n\n The first time Elektra has asserted her own authority. The\n foreman is surprised, angry. But he doesn't question her.\n\n She moves toward the helicopter, says to Bond:",".\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\n of coffee.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to Foreman)\n ...they should have been in place two\n days ago. That is the target my father\n set.\n\n FOREMAN\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\n\n ","After an exhilarating run, she stops on the edge of a huge\n drop. Bond joins her. They look down at the snowy valley\n below. A line of survey FLAGS visible through the middle.\n\n ELEKTRA\n We're building from both ends. This is\n where they'll meet. Fifteen hundred\n miles from the Caspian to the\n Mediterranean.\n\n Bond and Elektra stand on the mountainside, feeling like the\n only two people in the world, when they hear:","to it. Now we have a second\n chance and this time we'll do it right.\n When the other wells have all dried up,\n she'll still be pumping her lifeblood to\n the world. And this\n (proudly, of pipeline)\n Will be one of the main arteries...\n\n OMITTED 75-\n\n EXT. POV FROM HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n Bond and Elektra travel beside the vast pipe through\n dramatic, beautiful, sc"," ELEKTRA\n He's struck again.\n (beat)\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\n\n He moves toward her.\n\n BOND\n I'm coming with you.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You do what you have to do, but I've\n called in M. She's en route from London\n even now.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\n\n","huge SATELLITE MAP of the pipeline's meandering path.\n\n M\n A woman?\n\n But before he can speak, ELEKTRA calls out, gesturing to A\n DIM LIGHT flashing on a console in front of her.\n\n ELEKTRA\n That's not right.\n\n A Technician comes over. Tanner too, followed by Bond and M.\n\n TANNER\n What is it?\n\n ELEKTRA\n It's an observation and","want to...talk to my\n father.\n (beat)\n I loved him. I'm not sure he knew that.\n\n BOND\n Is that why you want to finish the\n pipeline?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Partially, yes.\n\n Her muscleman BODY GUARD appears, says briefly:\n\n GABOR\n The jeep is ready, Ma'am. Will I be\n driving with you?\n\n ELEKTRA\n No, Gabor","TRA\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\n\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gazing out\n at this spectacular cradle of civilization. Bond works his\n wristbinds feverishly.\n\n ELEKTRA\n It runs in my veins, thicker than blood.\n I'm going to redraw the map.\n And when I am through the whole world\n will know my name, my grandfather's name,\n the glory of my people.\n\n B","POV FROM HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n Bond and Elektra travel beside the vast pipe through\n dramatic, beautiful, scenery...\n\n INT. HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n Davidov and Gabor, in the helicopter, watch the jeep below.\n\n EXT. CONSTRUCTION CAMP, FOOTHILLS OF THE CAUCASUS MOUNTAINS\n (CAPPADOCIA, THE VILLAGE OF ZELVE) - DAY\n\n The jeep reaches a break in the","years.\n A cloud of radiation the size of\n Europe...\n\n BOND\n (chilled)\n Because an explosion like that would kill\n all the other pipelines. There would be\n only one way to get the oil out of the\n Caspian and pump it to the world...\n\n CHRISTMAS\n The King pipeline.\n\n BOND\n Elektra would control it all.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n If what you say it true...it may be too","ABOR AND ANOTHER SECURITY MAN SHOOT M'S TWO GUARDS IN THE\n HEAD...point blank, cold blood. The men fall.\n\n M looks back at Elektra, a blood-curdling glare.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to her men)\n Take her to the chopper.\n\n EXT. PIPELINE - DAY\n\n From on high we follow the snaking pipeline ... until it\n disappears in a VAST, SMOULDERING B","KTRA\n You are wrong, Mr. Bond. In fact, I am\n the only person who can do it.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. JEEP, TRAVELING - OILFIELDS - DAY\n\n Elektra drives the all-terrain jeep with casual assurance.\n Bond is beside her, cold-weather gear in the back. They're\n following a huge pipeline, passing a blighted petrified\n forest of twisted iron: derelict oil d",". Including you.\n (off his look)\n That's why you're here, isn't it? You\n think I can't do it. You think I'm going\n to screw up. Or get myself killed.\n\n BOND\n I think running this pipeline would be a\n difficult job for anyone. Especially\n King's daughter.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You are wrong, Mr. Bond. In fact, I am\n the only person who can do it.\n\n ","ROOM - PIPELINE CONTROL CENTRE - CONTINUOUS\n\n The room is quiet, tense. M and her two men, Elektra, Gabor,\n the King TECHNICIAN and three armed security guards at the\n doors. They are the only ones left. Going down with the\n ship...if it goes. M and Elektra watch the two lights now\n together on the console. A tense silence. Everyone's edgy.\n Elektra perhaps a little more than the rest. ","to the region.\n He married into the Vavra family, rich\n local industrialists. He used those\n connections to hold it all together.\n\n BOND\n Kill the man, kill the pipeline.\n\n M\n Not necessarily. Not with Elektra taking\n over.\n\n Tanner notices a RED LIGHT start pulsing. He moves to M:\n\n TANNER\n Your call to the PM.\n\n M nods grimly. As Robinson distributes sealed envelopes:","oil than anyone thought.\n\n ROBINSON\n Latest estimates, six trillion dollars.\n It'll make the Gulf look like a puddle,\n see us right through the new century.\n The problem is getting the oil out of\n there.\n\n M\n There are four pipelines in the works.\n Three to the Black Sea, shipping out\n through the Bosphorus. All vulnerable to\n unstable governments or Russian blockade.\n\n BOND\n So Sir Robert's goes through Turkey,","at\n Elektra. But she watches him go...\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n The MI-6 helicopter swoops along the pipeline...\n\n Tanner is beside the pilot. Bond and Christmas in the back.\n\n They look at one another, the danger ahead melting the frost\n between them.\n\n INT. PIPELINE - LATER\n\n Bond and Christmas climb through an access hatch down onto\n the electric RIG. Its"," But you would have something to gain by\n killing Robert King. And stopping his\n pipeline.\n\n This hits Zukovsky. He closes down. A chill between them.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Poor Bond. The cold war is over. What\n have you got left? Economic espionage.\n Murder in the boardroom. So dull.\n\n Bond's eyes catch something, someone entering the casino.\n\n HIS POV: ELEKTRA...more vibrant than we have ever seen her","matic getting\n closer together. One of her MEN approaches, a radio in his\n ear.\n\n RADIO MAN\n Tanner reports Bond is headed for the\n rendezvous.\n\n M\n Excellent. Evacuate Miss King and the\n others.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You can evacuate my workers, but I'm not\n going anywhere.\n\n M looks at her, then nods, impressed by her courage.\n\n INT. PIPELINE (TRAVELLING) -"],[".\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\n of coffee.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to Foreman)\n ...they should have been in place two\n days ago. That is the target my father\n set.\n\n FOREMAN\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\n\n "," my villa, some time in the middle of the\n night and...\n\n M exchanges a look with Tanner.\n\n ELEKTRA\n My head of security has been found near a\n local airstrip, murdered...\n\n M leans on the console in front of her.\n\n M\n I'll send someone out.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Could...could you come?\n\n M looks up.\n\n ELEKTRA, on the monitor, looks about as lost as she ever has","\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\n HER POV:\n\n Big, battered and bloody, Valentin Zukovsky is leaving a\n boat, moving over the rocks toward the entrance with three of\n his men. Two bodies in his trail. He's on course for\n Elektra and nothing is going to stop him, even as his\n henchmen are cut down by feroc","Military precision.\n\n Davidov's radio crackles out a message and he tosses the gun\n back to Bond. They start walking:\n\n DAVIDOV\n (pleasant)\n Sorry about all that, comrade. Old habits\n die hard. I am Head of Security.\n Davidov.\n\n Bond eyes him, but is distracted by a jet coming to a halt\n ahead of them.\n\n Stairs swing down and out steps ELEKTRA KING. Beautiful,\n elegant. So out of","'s on course for\n Elektra and nothing is going to stop him, even as his\n henchmen are cut down by ferocious fire.\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\n\n Elektra moves to her gun. Just then, Gabor crashes through a\n stained glass window, neck broken.\n\n TWO ELEKTRA HENCHMEN appear from below stairs as the doors\n burst open. Zukovsky stands there. A bloody giant.\n\n","ovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\n further, staring at Bond...\n\n A look passes between the two men. Comrades in arms. The\n merest of smiles. Then the light fades from his eyes. Dead.\n\n ELEKTRA\n\n turns back to Bond. Smiles.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Excuse me.\n\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:","ILLA - NIGHT\n\n Bond and Elektra emerge from the BMW. Behind them, Gabor and\n Davidov get out of her car. Bond watches as Davidov slams his\n door and marches off, angry, toward the SECURITY QUARTERS at\n the side of the house.\n\n Bond and Elektra walk to the front door, anticipation thick\n in the air. Gabor opens the door. Elektra sweeps through...\n\n INT. ENTRANCE HALL, ELEKTRA'S VIL","\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\n trying to kill me?\n\n BOND\n You can drop the act, it's over.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I don't know what you're talking about!\n\n BOND\n I think you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd",". It's\n an exact duplicate. Inside is a tiny\n electrical detonator. We have reason to\n believe the assassin had an inside\n accomplice, someone who worked at this\n company.\n\n ELEKTRA\n If you've come here to look after me, Mr.\n Bond, thank you, but no thank you. I\n have two bodyguards, I don't need a\n third...\n\n She starts to walk out. He follows her...\n\n EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE"," ELEKTRA\n He's struck again.\n (beat)\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\n\n He moves toward her.\n\n BOND\n I'm coming with you.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You do what you have to do, but I've\n called in M. She's en route from London\n even now.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\n\n","He holds her gaze for a long time before he looks away.\n\n BOND\n I can't afford to.\n\n She frowns, slightly. Settles into his chest.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Don't worry. I know who you are.\n\n He holds her, eyes full of conflict, staring into the dark.\n\n EXT. VILLA - NIGHT - LATER\n\n The lights of a car pulling up at the security office by the\n perimeter wall of the property.\n\n","ep is ready, Ma'am. Will I be\n driving with you?\n\n ELEKTRA\n No, Gabor. We have a guest.\n\n Gabor glares at Bond before he leaves.\n\n BOND\n Who is he?\n\n ELEKTRA\n My bodyguard. He follows me everywhere.\n He's decisive, vigilant. And he makes an\n excellent omelette.\n\n BOND\n How long has he been with you?\n\n ","safe here.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I don't want to be safe!\n\n BOND\n I have to go to work.\n\n He starts toward the door.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Now who's the coward?\n\n He stops, his back up...then heads out the door.\n\n IN THE HALLWAY\n\n He passes Gabor, standing faithfully outside.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n EST. SHOT - EXT. CASINO","BAKU - DAY\n\n Elektra works in her father's STUDY, illuminated by a halo of\n light from a single desk lamp. Pictures of her grandfather\n and father stare down at her from the walls. The wind BLOWS A\n WINDOW open.\n\n She gets up, crosses the room, shutting the window. She\n stands there, listening to the silence and then...\n\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\n\n She listens, a","\n hit. The Dealer gives her an eight. She reveals her cards.\n\n DEALER\n Bust.\n\n He rakes in her chips. But Elektra is undeterred. She pushes\n another pile forward as the next deal commences.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I like the deep end, James.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n INT. SALON PRIVE\n\n The HENCHMAN holds Davidov against the wall with his huge\n fist around his neck."," ELEKTRA\n James. You can't kill me. Not in cold\n blood.\n\n But Bond isn't wavering. Clutches Zukovsky's bloody wet gun.\n\n He heads up in the semi-darkness -- and suddenly swings to\n his right, at an unexpected but familiar Voice:\n\n M\n Bond --\n\n Bond kicks open a door and enters...\n\n M'S PRISON ROOM\n\n He fires at the lock on her cell door and f","ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\n\n RENARD\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\n dead? It's what you wanted.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (beat)\n Of course...\n\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\n\n RENARD\n He was a...good lover?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing","And he makes an\n excellent omelette.\n\n BOND\n How long has he been with you?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Since the kidnapping. Why do you ask?\n\n Bond takes something out of his pocket, he opens his palm,\n shows it to her.\n\n BOND\n Does this look familiar to you?\n\n ELEKTRA\n It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\n of his life.\n\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in","\n\n ELEKTRA\n Excuse me.\n\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:\n\n ELEKTRA\n Everything's under control up here. Are\n you ready?\n\n RENARD\n (filtered)\n Yes. Au revoir...\n\n Lost for a moment, she breathes heavily. She glances at\n Zukovsky's corpse. Slightly puzzled, to Bond:\n\n ELEKTRA\n","and then...\n\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\n\n She listens, a long time, to the silence.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Gabor...?\n\n She goes to the door, opens it...it whines on its hinges.\n She steps into...\n\n INT. LIBRARY\n\n A big room lined with books. Three french doors lead out to a\n balcony. She walks a few paces in...\n\n THE DOOR SH"],["on the ancient stone floor and\n SPILLS OVER...the clock HITS THE GROUND and SKIDS across the\n stones, coming to rest ACROSS THE ROOM, on the floor near the\n window.\n\n M leans against the bars. SHE HEARS HER THE OUTER DOOR\n CLANKING OPEN...\n\n She hurries to her cot and lies down.\n\n GABOR ENTERS...a burly shadow in the light from the hall. He\n walks in. Looks at M. ","- MOMENTS LATER\n\n Elektra opens a heavy door, she and Renard past through to...\n\n A SMALL ROOM...a window set in the stone on one side. The\n other side is divided off by a WALL OF BARS, creating a cell\n which now contains: M\n\n The cell is bare, except for a camp bed in the corner. M\n betrays no fear. A quiet defiance burns in her.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Just as I promised.\n\n ","\n\n She crosses her arms. Returns to pacing. Puts her hands in\n her coat pockets:\n\n She feels something. Takes it out.\n\n THE LOCATOR CARD. Black and shiny, with two copper terminals\n on one end.\n\n M taps it on her hand. She looks back out. TO THE CLOCK.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n INT. BEDROOM - MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - NIGHT\n\n Ren","It is the beginning. The world will\n never be the same.\n\n He lays the Captain's hat down. Tries to mask his sorrow.\n\n RENARD\n It will be yours, and yours alone. Have\n fun with it.\n\n Forces himself to leave, heads down the stairs.\n\n INT. M'S CELL - SAME\n\n M works quickly. She pops open the back of the clock and\n takes out the batteries. She pries off the tops with a key\n and connects the","S TOWER - DEAD OF NIGHT\n\n Eerily quiet. The calm before the storm, except:\n\n INT. M'S CELL - SAME\n\n M is at the door of her cell. Her arm is stretched out\n through the bars. She is using her high-heeled shoe to try\n to HOOK the leg of the stool and drag it toward her. She can\n only jut tap the leg with the tip of the heel. She swipes\n out at the little three-legged stool,","s in.\n\n BOND\n King.\n\n M sees the seriousness in his eyes -- stabs at the intercom:\n\n INT. MONEYPENNY'S OFFICE, MI-6 - CONTINUOUS\n\n Moneypenny's eyes shoot to the intercom console:\n\n M\n (filtered)\n Moneypenny, stop King leaving.\n\n MONEYPENNY\n (flicking switch)\n Security --\n\n INT. C","IVE BODY BAGS are being carried out by soldiers. M surveys\n the scene; in an unlit corridor CHRISTMAS JONES and several\n men sweep the area with CLICKING Geiger counters.\n\n ELEKTRA is a distance away, listening to a Turkish policeman\n explain what's happening. She nods acknowledgement to M.\n\n Tanner senses that Bond wants to talk to M alone:\n\n TANNER\n I'll see how they're coming with the\n power...\n",".\n\n The soldiers get into the elevator and disappear, leaving\n Bond completely ALONE.\n\n Dead silence in the shadows. Bond's in his element, that\n alert glint in his eye as he takes in his surroundings.\n\n HIS P.O.V. A long, dark corridor...leading off to a more\n open circle in the distance, lights and an ominous humming\n there.\n\n Bond starts down the passageway.\n\n INT. TEST CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\n\n Ahead","M has seen it all.\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\n\n He moves to the ledge. Composes himself -- and\n\n DIVES ONE HUNDRED FEET to the water. Amazing.\n\n EXT. SUBMARINE, BOSPHORUS - DAY\n\n He surfaces close to the exiting sub. Grabs a ladder, pulls\n himself up.\n\n The hatch is closing... He splashes through the water\n flooding over the","in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\n\n Renard disembarks with several of his retinue, heavily laden\n with bags and cases. They enter the tower...\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - CONTINUOUS\n\n A fantastic space: stained glass windows cast myriad\n patterns over elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\n room"," GABOR ENTERS...a burly shadow in the light from the hall. He\n walks in. Looks at M. Picks up the clock and sets it ON THE\n WINDOW SILL.\n\n He leaves, shutting the door behind him.\n\n M sits up. Looks out to the clock, glowing in the dark.\n\n IT READS TWO A.M.\n\n She drops her head back on the wall. She will not sleep\n tonight.\n\n DISSOLVE TO:\n","holding\n CHRISTMAS hostage as well.\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\n\n A magnificent ornate tower in the centre of the Bosphorus.\n\n An innocent-looking launch coasts up to it. A tarp is raised\n and Bond and Christmas are revealed, hands bound. They are\n helped out, led inside by a number of henchmen.\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\n\n Elektra crosses the hallway as the doors open. Kiss","ROOM - PIPELINE CONTROL CENTRE - CONTINUOUS\n\n The room is quiet, tense. M and her two men, Elektra, Gabor,\n the King TECHNICIAN and three armed security guards at the\n doors. They are the only ones left. Going down with the\n ship...if it goes. M and Elektra watch the two lights now\n together on the console. A tense silence. Everyone's edgy.\n Elektra perhaps a little more than the rest. ","sitting just beneath the\n belly of the tanker. The silhouette of a SUBMARINE, hugging\n the tanker's shadow, creeping undetected into the\n Bosphorus...\n\n INT. M'S CELL - NIGHT\n\n M paces her cell. Looks out, at the clock:\n\n It is MIDNIGHT. Twelve hours to go.\n\n She crosses her arms. Returns to pacing. Puts her hands in\n her coat pockets:\n\n She feels",".\n\n ELEKTRA\n They were digging near here and they\n found some very pretty vases. They also\n found this...\n (meaning the garotte)\n I think we ignore the old ways at our\n peril, don't you?\n\n Bond recoils as she fastens the collar... She steps back.\n\n BOND\n (ignoring her)\n Where's M?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\n\n Bond","\n marching inevitably toward my own death.\n Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow,\n your time is up. And I guarantee you...I\n will not miss. You will die. Along with\n everyone in this city and the future of\n the West.\n\n He places the clock on a tall stool, just out of reach\n through her bars. He leaves. We hold on the clock:\n\n Eight p.m.\n\n\n EXT. CITY OF WALKWAYS - BAKU - DUS","plutonium. Renard takes the box as if it weighs nothing.\n Stronger then ever.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n INT. CELL - MAIDEN'S TOWER - MORNING\n\n Elektra stands at the door looking in at M.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Now you know how it feels. To be locked\n away, to wonder if they're coming for\n you, if anyone will ever come for you.\n\n M\n Someone will come.\n\n "," ELEKTRA\n James. You can't kill me. Not in cold\n blood.\n\n But Bond isn't wavering. Clutches Zukovsky's bloody wet gun.\n\n He heads up in the semi-darkness -- and suddenly swings to\n his right, at an unexpected but familiar Voice:\n\n M\n Bond --\n\n Bond kicks open a door and enters...\n\n M'S PRISON ROOM\n\n He fires at the lock on her cell door and f","back.\n\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\n\n M\n She's insane. Is that what you did to\n her?\n\n RENARD\n No. I'm afraid it is what you did.\n\n He crosses close to the bars.\n\n RENARD\n When I took her she was...promise itself.\n So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\n force. And you left her there, at the\n mercy of a man like me","wants to talk to M alone:\n\n TANNER\n I'll see how they're coming with the\n power...\n\n They watch him go. M turns to Bond:\n\n M\n You had your hand on the bomb and you let\n Renard get away with it.\n\n He draws her away, to a small alcove. Takes something out of\n his jacket...THE LOCATOR CARD.\n\n BOND\n The report King bought. It's a manual.\n Renard'"],[" ZUKOVSKY\n Help me, don't let me drown.\n\n She looks to Bond -- sees he's serious.\n\n BOND\n (to Zukovsky)\n You're in this thing up to your neck.\n\n Zukovsky sinks alarmingly -- he talks rapidly, staccato:\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Alright, alright! Sometimes I smuggle\n machinery for her. Russian stuff.\n\n BOND\n And","hew is\n in danger, we do it my way, or nothing!\n Now get me out!\n\n But he looks more worried than ever as Bond takes aim with\n the harpoon gun -- squeezes the trigger.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n No! Bond!\n\n CHRISTMAS\n (alarmed)\n Bond!\n\n Bond fires. Zukovsky YELLS as the HARPOON SHOOTS TOWARD HIM.\n\n It takes him a moment to realize he hasn",".\n\n Bond looks at the pack he left on the ground...\n\n He grabs Christmas and HURLS HER TO THE FLOOR.\n\n KABOOM!\n\n A MASSIVE EXPLOSION rips the place apart. In half a second\n the air is thick with coloured dust and drifting clumps of\n burning silk.\n\n Bond stands. Christmas is stunned, but okay. He looks\n around at the others - few dead, all out for the count, among\n them, Zukovsky","\n\n She walks over, puts her heel on his gun arm, presses down,\n smiling a half-psychotic smile. The gun is pinned.\n\n Zukovsky is dying.\n\n But he dredges up every last ounce of energy to raise his gun\n a millimetre off the ground, his outstretched arm already\n pointing at Bond. Elektra looks surprised, then amused as\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\n to shoot Bond!\n\n","\n No. The truth!\n (beat)\n She thought I was dead -- those blades\n were meant for you. What do you know\n that she would kill you for?\n\n Zukovsky is sinking.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n I don't know what you're talking --\n\n Zukovsky sees Christmas appear beside Bond:\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Help me, don't let me drown.\n\n She looks to Bond -- sees he's","onto a nearby walkway. The men\n make their way toward the factory, firing at the guards.\n Zukovsky and Christmas are forced inside.\n\n ANGLE ON BOND\n\n Who sees the danger to the others and runs off along the\n walkways back to the factory. The Chopper follows him,\n shooting.\n\n Bond outruns it, until, ahead of him A GRENADE EXPLODES,\n destroying the walkway and hurling Bond into the water.\n\n EXT. FACT"," INT. CAVIAR FISHERY - CITY OF WALKWAYS - DUSK (OLD SC.176)\n\n Nailed on the battered old door, the lid of a caviar jar, a\n label illustrated with a LINE DRAWING OF ZUKOVSKY. Zukovsky\n opens the door and finds himself...\n\n Staring straight down Bond's pistol. Bond and Christmas are\n silhouetted by the gold dusk light. At their feet lies one\n of Zukov",", but okay. He looks\n around at the others - few dead, all out for the count, among\n them, Zukovsky.\n\n Bond heads for the door after the Boa.\n\n CHRISTMAS\n Zukovsky...\n\n BOND\n If I don't get to the Boa before he gets\n to Maiden's Tower, M is dead.\n\n Bond runs out, into\n\n EXT. STREET - DAY\n\n Teeming with people, his","OVSKY\n Ah, I see. A purely...plutonic\n relationship.\n\n Hands held clear of his body, Zukovsky enters, his evening\n dress decidedly out of place here.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Really Bond, couldn't you find a nice\n Russian scientist with hair growing out\n of his ears?\n\n BOND\n What's your business with Elektra King?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n I thought you were the one in her\n","The chauffeur is shot and killed. The gunmen then turn their\n attention to Zukovsky and Christmas, when suddenly BOND\n APPEARS through a trap door in the floor boards.\n\n Bond shoots one of the gunmen, then fires on the other...\n Zukovsky grabs Christmas and they make their escape Bond\n sees a third gunman firing from the basement and takes him\n out.\n\n EXT. WALKWAYS - SAME\n\n Zukovsky and Christmas make a dash for Z","horror:\n\n EXT. SIDE OF CAVIAR PIT (OLD SC. 199)\n POV ZUKOVSKY:\n\n Bond appearing at the edge of the caviar pit, dragging\n himself up, soaking wet. He's holding another harpoon gun.\n Points it directly at Zukovsky. This time he really means\n business.\n\n EXT. CAVIAR PIT/SIDE (OLD SC. 200)\n\n Zukovsky, on the point","but it's too late. The\n flames engulf it, igniting a fireball.\n\n IN THE WATER\n\n Zukovsky pulls himself back onto a walkway and heads for the\n factory, but speeding at him are to FREE-FLYING SAW BLADES\n from the chopper that has just exploded!\n\n OMITTED 231S to 231Z\n\n EXT. WALKWAY\n\n Zukovsky dives away -- into a CAVIAR P","flatter the guests.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n That too. Everyone does what they can to\n survive.\n\n BOND\n How high up does this...arms dealing go?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Bond. If someone wants you dead, it is\n Renard. Our government has nothing to\n gain by killing you.\n\n BOND\n But you would have something to gain by\n killing Robert King. And stopping his\n pipeline.\n\n This hits Zukovsky.","What's your business with Elektra King?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n I thought you were the one in her\n business.\n\n BOND\n She dropped a million and half dollars to\n the House -- your House. And you didn't\n even bat an eyelid. She was paying you\n off. What for?\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n As ever you are the spy who has to see a\n plot wherever he looks.\n\n Bond SLAMS Zukovsky"," them turns to look back, unaware that she is on display. She\n returns Bond's smile. Her friend turns to look. Bond's\n smile grows: she has a small pistol concealed over one\n breast.\n\n INT. CASINO NOIR D'OR, BAKU - NIGHT\n\n He looks over the lenses -- and spies someone on the fringes.\n His old adversary, ex-KGB, VALENTIN ZUKOVSKY, talking to some\n suspicious types. Zuk","now above him...the chopper's relentless saws CUT\n THROUGH THE PIPE...GAS JETS OUT...Bond HURLS HIMSELF up a\n stairway.\n\n INT. CAVIAR FISHERY\n\n Zukovsky and Christmas watch in horror as Chopper One blades\n away more roof above them.\n\n EXT. LOWER WALKWAY\n\n Bond takes something out of his pocket, a remote control\n device...he presses some buttons...HIS C","\n out.\n\n EXT. WALKWAYS - SAME\n\n Zukovsky and Christmas make a dash for Zukovsky's Rolls.\n They dive in...Zukovsky rams the car into reverse...behind\n him, A CHOPPER SLICES the walkway to smithereens...Zukovsky\n can't stop it as the car leaps backward and into THE WATER\n BELOW....\n\n INT. FACTORY\n\n Bond finishes off the remaining two armed men in a","on\n flying skis, but they cannot afford to\n pay the soldiers. The men, they do what\n they have to do to feed their families.\n In this country, for the right price and\n a pack of cigarettes, you can get\n anything you want.\n\n He notices Bond watching THE HOSTESS BAR...a dark alcove of\n the casino, where slinky HOOKERS flatter the guests.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n That too. Everyone does what they can to\n survive.\n\n","\n His old adversary, ex-KGB, VALENTIN ZUKOVSKY, talking to some\n suspicious types. Zukovsky looks across. Bond walks toward\n him.\n\n BOND\n Valentin Zukovsky.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n BondJamesBond. What brings you here?\n\n BOND\n You, of course. I need some information.\n\n ZUKOVSKY\n Bond, I'm a civilian. This is my place.\n","231Z\n\n EXT. WALKWAY\n\n Zukovsky dives away -- into a CAVIAR PIT. The saws embed in\n the cabin behind him.\n\n The caviar pit is like sinking sand, deep -- he's going\n under. Flounders, trying to cling to a crate blown in there\n by the explosion. Then he looks in horror:\n\n EXT. SIDE OF CAVIAR PIT (OLD SC. 199)\n POV ZUK"],["ignoring her)\n Where's M?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\n\n Bond keeps his cool:\n\n BOND\n All this, because you fell for Renard?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Five more turns and your neck will break.\n\n She moves to the back of the chair, twists the screw ONE\n NOTCH. The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\n\n ","BOND\n Elektra, it's not too late. Eight\n million people needn't die.\n\n She smiles, twists the screw again. A nasty, grinding sound.\n Sweat trickles from his brow. She licks it away.\n\n ELEKTRA\n You should have killed me when you had\n the chance. But you couldn't. Not me. A\n woman you've loved.\n\n She pushes her hips into his. Turns the screw. The bolt","\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\n trying to kill me?\n\n BOND\n You can drop the act, it's over.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I don't know what you're talking about!\n\n BOND\n I think you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd","ive falls in love\n with her captor.\n\n At the word \"love,\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\n unsuspecting Bond hard across the face.\n\n ELEKTRA\n How dare you! How dare you! That\n animal!? That monster!? He disgusts me!\n You disgust me! So he knew where to hurt\n you, is that it? You had a sling on your\n arm at the funeral! I didn't have to\n sleep with you to find that","ved window.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\n\n Bond ignores her.\n\n ELEKTRA\n I could have given you the world.\n\n BOND\n Not interested.\n\n This cuts. She casually reaches behind his neck, flips up a\n wooden arm to which is attached a metal collar. A GAROTTE.\n\n ELEKTRA\n They were digging near here and they\n found some very pretty vases. They also\n ","you do.\n\n He walks toward her, threatening...\n\n BOND\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Syndrome.\n It's common in kidnappings. A young\n impressionable victim. Sheltered,\n sexually inexperienced. A powerful\n kidnapper skilled in torture, in\n manipulation. Something snaps in the\n victim's mind. The captive falls in love\n with her captor.\n\n At the word \"love,\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an","Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\n carved chair, covered in silk.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (to guards)\n Take her to Renard.\n\n Bond and Christmas exchange a look as the guards start her\n towards some steps.\n\n Elektra indicates for him to sit. Behind him, the whole of\n Istanbul is visible through a large curved window.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\n\n Bond ignores her.\n\n","pares to turn it the last\n time...His hand strains at its binding...\n\n BOND\n One... last... screw?\n\n ELEKTRA\n (kissing his ear)\n Oh James.\n\n She begins to turn the screw...\n\n ... when SEVERAL GUNSHOTS are heard outside.\n\n Bond is on the edge of consciousness.\n\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\n\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TO",".\n\n ELEKTRA\n They were digging near here and they\n found some very pretty vases. They also\n found this...\n (meaning the garotte)\n I think we ignore the old ways at our\n peril, don't you?\n\n Bond recoils as she fastens the collar... She steps back.\n\n BOND\n (ignoring her)\n Where's M?\n\n ELEKTRA\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\n\n Bond","\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\n\n ELEKTRA\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\n\n BOND\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\n what's the point of living if you can't\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\n Isn't that your motto?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n Or did you steal it from your","amused as\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\n to shoot Bond!\n\n Bond stares back. Zukovsky's eye narrows -- trying for\n extreme accuracy...\n\n BLAM! The SHOT hits the binding at Bond's wrist. Splinters\n the wood there.\n\n ELEKTRA stares at Zukovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\n further","\n\n ELEKTRA\n What are you talking about?\n\n BOND\n Or did you steal it from your old friend\n Renard?\n\n ELEKTRA\n ...what?\n\n BOND\n We had a run-in, he and I. He knew about\n us, he knew about my shoulder, he knew\n exactly where to hurt me...\n\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Are you saying...Renard is the","saw me. You knew\n it would be like this.\n\n BOND\n Shush.\n\n Her hand dips in an ice bucket beside the bed. She rubs a\n slither of ice down her chest, shudders with pleasure. It's\n a move Bond hasn't seen before.\n\n Now she brings the ice to his shoulder.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Poor shoulder. Looks painful...\n\n She kisses his purple flesh. Licks.\n\n BOND\n "," The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\n\n ELEKTRA\n Since I was a child, I've always had a\n power over men. When I realized my father\n wouldn't rescue me from the kidnappers, I\n knew I had to form a new alliance.\n\n BOND\n (realizing)\n You turned Renard.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (smiling)\n Just like you..."," ELEKTRA\n James. You can't kill me. Not in cold\n blood.\n\n But Bond isn't wavering. Clutches Zukovsky's bloody wet gun.\n\n He heads up in the semi-darkness -- and suddenly swings to\n his right, at an unexpected but familiar Voice:\n\n M\n Bond --\n\n Bond kicks open a door and enters...\n\n M'S PRISON ROOM\n\n He fires at the lock on her cell door and f","ances at\n Zukovsky's corpse. Slightly puzzled, to Bond:\n\n ELEKTRA\n Zukovsky really hated you.\n (beat)\n Time to say goodnight.\n\n And she kisses him -- reaches behind to deliver the killer\n twist...\n\n One super-fast movement:\n\n Bond's hand breaks free, grabs her throat, tight. He holds\n her, their faces close together, disdain in his eyes -- hurls\n her backwards, her hand","\n\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\n\n Elektra crosses the hallway as the doors open. Kisses Bond\n on the cheek as she eyes Christmas.\n\n ELEKTRA\n James Bond and his amazing resurrection.\n If only you'd kept away, we might have\n met again in a few years, become lovers\n once more.\n\n Christmas eyes Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\n carved chair, covered in silk.\n\n ELEKTRA\n","ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\n\n RENARD\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\n dead? It's what you wanted.\n\n ELEKTRA\n (beat)\n Of course...\n\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\n\n RENARD\n He was a...good lover?\n\n ELEKTRA\n What do you think?\n\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing","TRA\n Poor shoulder. Looks painful...\n\n She kisses his purple flesh. Licks.\n\n BOND\n ...needs constant attention...\n\n She slides her tongue back and fore along the groove above\n the tendon. And he pulls the ice from her hand:\n\n BOND\n Enough ice for one day.\n\n Tosses it across the room as passion takes over...\n\n INT. BEDROOM, ELEKTRA'S VILLA - LATER\n\n A p","\n\n She walks over, puts her heel on his gun arm, presses down,\n smiling a half-psychotic smile. The gun is pinned.\n\n Zukovsky is dying.\n\n But he dredges up every last ounce of energy to raise his gun\n a millimetre off the ground, his outstretched arm already\n pointing at Bond. Elektra looks surprised, then amused as\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\n to shoot Bond!\n\n"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\\n blood curiously, feeling no pain.\\n\\n RENARD\\n A man tires of being executed.\\n\\n As Bond screws a silencer onto the muzzle of his gun:\\n\\n RENARD\\n But then again...There is no point in\\n living if you can't...feel alive.\\n\\n Bond knows that, he's heard it somewhere before...IT FREEZES\\n HIM\",\n \"is the\\n hottest.\\n\\n Renard touches the glass well of oil.\\n\\n RENARD\\n The temperature is close to five hundred\\n degrees.\\n\\n Renard uses his knife and POPS the seal from the lamp,\\n removing the well of oil...a DROP of the hot oil FALLS ON HIS\\n HAND and SINGES IT BLACK in an instant...\\n\\n Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\\n to placate...\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n \",\n \"?\\n\\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\\n Tormented.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n Now she runs the ice down her neck...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n But surely...\\n\\n ...her fingers becoming wet, she runs the ice down between\\n her breasts, leaving a trail. Teasing...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n ...You can feel this?\\n\\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\\n open, enjoying\",\n \" Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\\n to placate...\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n The plane...it's all been arranged...\\n\\n RENARD\\n Then you are completely unnecessary...\\n\\n Renard raises the container of oil over Davidov's head:\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n I have the documents, the landing\\n authorizations, the security passes...\\n\\n Renard stops, the oil tilted, just ready to pour...\\n\\n His dead eye...has it drooped\",\n \"\\n It throbs and shifts with the slightest facial expression,\\n like an insect living just beneath his skin. One EYE seems\\n slightly drooping, deadened. The other eye is sharp and black\\n as anthracite. It is a frightening face. This is RENARD.\\n\\n RENARD\\n What's his name? Our friend from MI-6?\\n\\n CIGAR GIRL\\n James Bond.\\n\\n RENARD\\n One of M's more accomplished tin\\n soldiers.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n RENARD\\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\\n get on my knees and pray for it. You, on\\n the other hand, you have something to\\n live for, no?\\n (closer now)\\n She's beautiful isn't she? You should\\n have seen her before. Flawless, and still\\n so innocent, not such a whore in bed...\\n\\n Bond's eyes flare in fury. He shoves Renard into the wall\\n and presses the gun to his\",\n \"\\n hand.\\n\\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n Elektra comes to him. Leads him to the bed. Sits. Gently\\n removes the splinter. Then, she takes an icecube from the\\n bucket. Runs it along his wound.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What about this?\\n\\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\\n Tormented.\\n\\n REN\",\n \")\\n Take him away, I don't want him around as\\n we move the bomb.\\n (whispered, to Bond)\\n You had me. I knew you couldn't shoulder\\n the responsibility...\\n\\n And Renard jams his hand onto Bond's shoulder, squeezing his\\n collar-bone hard... Pain jolts through Bond, he drops to his\\n knees in agony. He shoves Bond down. Bond's hand goes to his\\n shoulder, his mind now racing -- how did he know to hurt him\",\n \"\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\\n out the images. After a moment, he SMASHES HIS FIST through\\n the hand-painted wood. Elektra looks up.\\n\\n HER P.O.V. A huge splinter of wood juts out of Renard's\\n hand.\\n\\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n RENARD\\n It's I who should thank you -- for taking\\n that money back to MI-6. So distressing\\n for M. An explosion inside her lair.\\n\\n BOND\\n She'll get over it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n You even brought the plane for us. We\\n really couldn't have done it without you.\\n\\n Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\\n blood\",\n \" INT. SALON PRIVE\\n\\n The HENCHMAN holds Davidov against the wall with his huge\\n fist around his neck. Near his head, the live flame of a\\n SCONCE hisses, burning blue and yellow, drawing their fuel\\n from the glass basin of hot oil attached beneath it.\\n\\n The HOOKER, obviously one of Renard's gang, has finished\\n donning her khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\\n onto her shoulder.\\n\\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\\n\",\n \"\\n Should be dead as well. Your failure\\n today is astonishing. It is a disgrace.\\n\\n He approaches close to him, stopping at the flaming SCONCE\\n near his head.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Do you know why the color is blue at the\\n wick?\\n\\n Davidov starts to sweat.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Because that is where the flame is the\\n hottest.\\n\\n Renard touches the glass well of oil.\\n\\n RENARD\\n The temperature is\",\n \"elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room.\\n\\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You're hurting me.\\n\\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\\n hide it.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Brought me something?\\n\\n He smiles, gr\",\n \"in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\\n\\n Renard disembarks with several of his retinue, heavily laden\\n with bags and cases. They enter the tower...\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n A fantastic space: stained glass windows cast myriad\\n patterns over elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room\",\n \" (beat)\\n That bullet is still there.\\n\\n Bond moves toward the ghostly Renard. We now see THE BULLET\\n INSIDE HIS SKULL.\\n\\n BOND\\n He survived?\\n\\n M\\n The doctor who saved him couldn't get it\\n out, so Renard killed him. When Interpol\\n found the x-rays, there was mild\\n jubilation. Effectively, he's a dead man.\\n\\n She presses a button, the hologram turns...\\n\\n\",\n \" AT THE ELEVATOR\\n\\n Bond fires at Renard, hitting his shin...\\n\\n WITH RENARD\\n\\n looking down at his shin, noticing the blood. Inconvenienced\\n but not in pain. He shuts the cage doors. Pauses only to\\n fire off half a clip at the SWITCH PANEL. Shreds it.\\n\\n Bond leaps to his feet, racing forward, firing -- gets to the\\n elevator as Renard disappears upwards with a smile. He POINTS\\n\",\n \"khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\\n onto her shoulder.\\n\\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Is this how you spend the money I pay\\n you? And with the rest you hire fools who\\n shoot like blind men?\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n (croaks out)\\n Bond...\\n\\n RENARD\\n Should be dead as well. Your failure\\n today is astonishing. It is a disgrace.\\n\\n He approaches close to\",\n \"she used all that brilliance to get\\n revenge on her father, on me.\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I wanted you. I wanted you for\\n myself.\\n\\n He takes something out of his pocket. A small TRAVEL CLOCK.\\n He sets it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Since you sent your man to kill me, I\\n have been watching time tick slowly away,\\n marching inevitably toward my own death.\\n Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow,\\n your time is up. And I\",\n \"back.\\n\\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\\n\\n M\\n She's insane. Is that what you did to\\n her?\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I'm afraid it is what you did.\\n\\n He crosses close to the bars.\\n\\n RENARD\\n When I took her she was...promise itself.\\n So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\\n force. And you left her there, at the\\n mercy of a man like me\",\n \"picks it up and PUTS IT ON HIS HEAD.\\n\\n RENARD\\n We'll be underway in two hours. Use that\\n time to re-familiarize yourselves with\\n your stations. Then ponder how rich\\n you'll be. The re-breathers for the\\n escape are already on board.\\n\\n A man appears holding a heavy lead box containing the\\n plutonium. Renard takes the box as if it weighs nothing.\\n Stronger then ever.\\n\\n C\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\\n trying to kill me?\\n\\n BOND\\n You can drop the act, it's over.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I don't know what you're talking about!\\n\\n BOND\\n I think you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd\",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n He's struck again.\\n (beat)\\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\\n\\n He moves toward her.\\n\\n BOND\\n I'm coming with you.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You do what you have to do, but I've\\n called in M. She's en route from London\\n even now.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\\n\\n\",\n \".\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n They were digging near here and they\\n found some very pretty vases. They also\\n found this...\\n (meaning the garotte)\\n I think we ignore the old ways at our\\n peril, don't you?\\n\\n Bond recoils as she fastens the collar... She steps back.\\n\\n BOND\\n (ignoring her)\\n Where's M?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\\n\\n Bond\",\n \"\\n\\n BOND\\n The amount of money that killed Robert\\n King is the same amount as the ransom\\n demand for Elektra.\\n\\n He hands her a slip of paper.\\n\\n BOND\\n Whoever kidnapped Elektra is the same man\\n who killed her father.\\n\\n M looks at the paper, a long time.\\n\\n M\\n It's a message. He wants us to know he's\\n back.\\n\\n BOND\\n Who?\\n\\n \",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n James. You can't kill me. Not in cold\\n blood.\\n\\n But Bond isn't wavering. Clutches Zukovsky's bloody wet gun.\\n\\n He heads up in the semi-darkness -- and suddenly swings to\\n his right, at an unexpected but familiar Voice:\\n\\n M\\n Bond --\\n\\n Bond kicks open a door and enters...\\n\\n M'S PRISON ROOM\\n\\n He fires at the lock on her cell door and f\",\n \"me.\\n\\n She walks away, the wind pressing her dress against her\\n delicate figure. She looks brave and vulnerable as she walks\\n back toward her father's grand house.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n INT. LIMOUSINE - TRAVELING - DAY\\n\\n M, Bond and Tanner in the rear of a limousine. The vehicle\\n swoops through the epic countryside of the Scottish\\n Highlands.\\n\\n M\\n Elektra? Running King Industries?\\n (she bro\",\n \"wants to kill me, I'd rather die\\n looking him straight in the eye.\\n (lightly)\\n What are you doing here? Looking for a\\n woman a little more your type? How about\\n that one?\\n\\n She points to a SHOW GIRL in a feather headdress and pasties.\\n\\n BOND\\n If this little show is for my benefit,\\n I'll take you home right now.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You had your chance, James. Now I'm\\n \",\n \"is right there to take her\\n order.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Vodka martini.\\n\\n BOND\\n Two. Shaken not stirred.\\n\\n He leans in, smiling his charming smile as he says:\\n\\n BOND\\n What the hell are you doing here?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (smiling right back)\\n Someone wants to kill me, I'd rather die\\n looking him straight in the eye.\\n (lightly)\\n What are you doing\",\n \"if they're coming for\\n you, if anyone will ever come for you.\\n\\n M\\n Someone will come.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Who? Bond? Bond is dead.\\n\\n Elektra walks to the window. She looks out.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Somehow, I find that strangely\\n ...disappointing.\\n\\n M watches her, her heart beating.\\n\\n M\\n Elektra. What time is it?\\n\\n Elektra picks up the little clock\",\n \"ovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\\n further, staring at Bond...\\n\\n A look passes between the two men. Comrades in arms. The\\n merest of smiles. Then the light fades from his eyes. Dead.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n\\n turns back to Bond. Smiles.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Excuse me.\\n\\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:\",\n \"you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Syndrome.\\n It's common in kidnappings. A young\\n impressionable victim. Sheltered,\\n sexually inexperienced. A powerful\\n kidnapper skilled in torture, in\\n manipulation. Something snaps in the\\n victim's mind. The captive falls in love\\n with her captor.\\n\\n At the word \\\"love,\\\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\",\n \"go ahead and place these\\n orders, and get the jeep ready. I will go\\n to Ruan myself...\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n Miss King, I wouldn't recommend...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I said, I will go.\\n\\n She signs some documents and the men file out. She gets up,\\n turning her back to Bond, hands on her hips.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Would you excuse us, Davidov?\\n\\n Davidov nods and leaves. Elektra still keeps her back turned\",\n \"What's your business with Elektra King?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n I thought you were the one in her\\n business.\\n\\n BOND\\n She dropped a million and half dollars to\\n the House -- your House. And you didn't\\n even bat an eyelid. She was paying you\\n off. What for?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n As ever you are the spy who has to see a\\n plot wherever he looks.\\n\\n Bond SLAMS Zukovsky\",\n \"?\\n\\n He nods. He is wound tight, she senses it.\\n\\n BOND\\n I can't stay.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I know.\\n\\n A moment.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I need to ask you something. And I need\\n you to tell me the truth.\\n\\n He waits.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Who is it? Who is trying to kill me?\\n\\n Bond looks at her; vulnerable, fragile, trying to be strong.\",\n \"TRA\\n Who is it? Who is trying to kill me?\\n\\n Bond looks at her; vulnerable, fragile, trying to be strong.\\n He cannot tell her the truth.\\n\\n BOND\\n I don't know. But I will find him.\\n\\n She stares at him, sensing he is withholding something. She\\n turns back to the window.\\n\\n He approaches behind her.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n After the kidnapping...I was afraid to go\\n outside, to be alone, to be in\",\n \" But you would have something to gain by\\n killing Robert King. And stopping his\\n pipeline.\\n\\n This hits Zukovsky. He closes down. A chill between them.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Poor Bond. The cold war is over. What\\n have you got left? Economic espionage.\\n Murder in the boardroom. So dull.\\n\\n Bond's eyes catch something, someone entering the casino.\\n\\n HIS POV: ELEKTRA...more vibrant than we have ever seen her\",\n \"ances at\\n Zukovsky's corpse. Slightly puzzled, to Bond:\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Zukovsky really hated you.\\n (beat)\\n Time to say goodnight.\\n\\n And she kisses him -- reaches behind to deliver the killer\\n twist...\\n\\n One super-fast movement:\\n\\n Bond's hand breaks free, grabs her throat, tight. He holds\\n her, their faces close together, disdain in his eyes -- hurls\\n her backwards, her hand\",\n \"\\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\\n\\n BOND\\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\\n what's the point of living if you can't\\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\\n Isn't that your motto?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n Or did you steal it from your\",\n \"E (MI-6 HQ) - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bond opens the door on M who stands alone by the window,\\n looking out at the long shadows on the moors.\\n\\n BOND\\n Tell me about the kidnapping of Elektra\\n King.\\n\\n She turns, her brow furrowing.\\n\\n M\\n Who told you to look at Elektra's files?\\n\\n BOND\\n I took the initiative.\\n\\n M\\n You haven't been given an assignment\",\n \"Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\\n carved chair, covered in silk.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to guards)\\n Take her to Renard.\\n\\n Bond and Christmas exchange a look as the guards start her\\n towards some steps.\\n\\n Elektra indicates for him to sit. Behind him, the whole of\\n Istanbul is visible through a large curved window.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\\n\\n Bond ignores her.\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \" They're\\n following a huge pipeline, passing a blighted petrified\\n forest of twisted iron: derelict oil derricks.\\n\\n Elektra gestures at the oil fields they're now leaving\\n behind. Receding into the distance, a DELTA OF ROADWAYS\\n perched on rusting stilts juts out into the sea.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n My mother's people discovered oil here\\n ninety years ago. The Bolsheviks\\n slaughtered them for it.\",\n \"TRA\\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\\n\\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gazing out\\n at this spectacular cradle of civilization. Bond works his\\n wristbinds feverishly.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It runs in my veins, thicker than blood.\\n I'm going to redraw the map.\\n And when I am through the whole world\\n will know my name, my grandfather's name,\\n the glory of my people.\\n\\n B\",\n \"oil than anyone thought.\\n\\n ROBINSON\\n Latest estimates, six trillion dollars.\\n It'll make the Gulf look like a puddle,\\n see us right through the new century.\\n The problem is getting the oil out of\\n there.\\n\\n M\\n There are four pipelines in the works.\\n Three to the Black Sea, shipping out\\n through the Bosphorus. All vulnerable to\\n unstable governments or Russian blockade.\\n\\n BOND\\n So Sir Robert's goes through Turkey,\",\n \"Davidov and Gabor scanning the area as well. Elektra\\n speaks to the foreman.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Send the pipe around.\\n\\n FOREMAN\\n It will take weeks, cost millions.\\n Your father approved this route.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Then my father was wrong.\\n\\n The first time Elektra has asserted her own authority. The\\n foreman is surprised, angry. But he doesn't question her.\\n\\n She moves toward the helicopter, says to Bond:\",\n \"to it. Now we have a second\\n chance and this time we'll do it right.\\n When the other wells have all dried up,\\n she'll still be pumping her lifeblood to\\n the world. And this\\n (proudly, of pipeline)\\n Will be one of the main arteries...\\n\\n OMITTED 75-\\n\\n EXT. POV FROM HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n Bond and Elektra travel beside the vast pipe through\\n dramatic, beautiful, sc\",\n \"After an exhilarating run, she stops on the edge of a huge\\n drop. Bond joins her. They look down at the snowy valley\\n below. A line of survey FLAGS visible through the middle.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n We're building from both ends. This is\\n where they'll meet. Fifteen hundred\\n miles from the Caspian to the\\n Mediterranean.\\n\\n Bond and Elektra stand on the mountainside, feeling like the\\n only two people in the world, when they hear:\",\n \".\\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\\n of coffee.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to Foreman)\\n ...they should have been in place two\\n days ago. That is the target my father\\n set.\\n\\n FOREMAN\\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\\n\\n \",\n \"years.\\n A cloud of radiation the size of\\n Europe...\\n\\n BOND\\n (chilled)\\n Because an explosion like that would kill\\n all the other pipelines. There would be\\n only one way to get the oil out of the\\n Caspian and pump it to the world...\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n The King pipeline.\\n\\n BOND\\n Elektra would control it all.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n If what you say it true...it may be too\",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n He's struck again.\\n (beat)\\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\\n\\n He moves toward her.\\n\\n BOND\\n I'm coming with you.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You do what you have to do, but I've\\n called in M. She's en route from London\\n even now.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\\n\\n\",\n \"KTRA\\n You are wrong, Mr. Bond. In fact, I am\\n the only person who can do it.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. JEEP, TRAVELING - OILFIELDS - DAY\\n\\n Elektra drives the all-terrain jeep with casual assurance.\\n Bond is beside her, cold-weather gear in the back. They're\\n following a huge pipeline, passing a blighted petrified\\n forest of twisted iron: derelict oil d\",\n \"huge SATELLITE MAP of the pipeline's meandering path.\\n\\n M\\n A woman?\\n\\n But before he can speak, ELEKTRA calls out, gesturing to A\\n DIM LIGHT flashing on a console in front of her.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n That's not right.\\n\\n A Technician comes over. Tanner too, followed by Bond and M.\\n\\n TANNER\\n What is it?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It's an observation and\",\n \"BAKU - DAY\\n\\n Elektra works in her father's STUDY, illuminated by a halo of\\n light from a single desk lamp. Pictures of her grandfather\\n and father stare down at her from the walls. The wind BLOWS A\\n WINDOW open.\\n\\n She gets up, crosses the room, shutting the window. She\\n stands there, listening to the silence and then...\\n\\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\\n\\n She listens, a\",\n \"it myself.\\n\\n She turns the screw again.\\n\\n BOND\\n So you killed your father.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n He killed me! He killed me the day he\\n refused to pay my ransom.\\n\\n A flicker of emotion. Bond is getting to her.\\n\\n BOND\\n Was this all about the oil?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\\n\\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gaz\",\n \"POV FROM HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n Bond and Elektra travel beside the vast pipe through\\n dramatic, beautiful, scenery...\\n\\n INT. HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n Davidov and Gabor, in the helicopter, watch the jeep below.\\n\\n EXT. CONSTRUCTION CAMP, FOOTHILLS OF THE CAUCASUS MOUNTAINS\\n (CAPPADOCIA, THE VILLAGE OF ZELVE) - DAY\\n\\n The jeep reaches a break in the\",\n \"want to...talk to my\\n father.\\n (beat)\\n I loved him. I'm not sure he knew that.\\n\\n BOND\\n Is that why you want to finish the\\n pipeline?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Partially, yes.\\n\\n Her muscleman BODY GUARD appears, says briefly:\\n\\n GABOR\\n The jeep is ready, Ma'am. Will I be\\n driving with you?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n No, Gabor\",\n \"TRA\\n My mother's people discovered oil here\\n ninety years ago. The Bolsheviks\\n slaughtered them for it.\\n (beat)\\n Some say oil is in my family's blood. I\\n say our blood is in the oil. This is the\\n very heart of the planet. Up here in the\\n hills was Eden, literally. Look what the\\n Russians did to it. Now we have a second\\n chance and this time we'll do it right.\\n When the other wells have all dried\",\n \" Elektra would control it all.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n If what you say it true...it may be too\\n late for Yevgeny.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n INT. SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - ISTANBUL - DAY\\n\\n The ancient arched underbelly of a waterside building.\\n\\n Something is disturbing a large expanse of water. A black\\n shadow looms beneath the waves. A SUBMARINE\",\n \"ABOR AND ANOTHER SECURITY MAN SHOOT M'S TWO GUARDS IN THE\\n HEAD...point blank, cold blood. The men fall.\\n\\n M looks back at Elektra, a blood-curdling glare.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to her men)\\n Take her to the chopper.\\n\\n EXT. PIPELINE - DAY\\n\\n From on high we follow the snaking pipeline ... until it\\n disappears in a VAST, SMOULDERING B\",\n \"at\\n Elektra. But she watches him go...\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n The MI-6 helicopter swoops along the pipeline...\\n\\n Tanner is beside the pilot. Bond and Christmas in the back.\\n\\n They look at one another, the danger ahead melting the frost\\n between them.\\n\\n INT. PIPELINE - LATER\\n\\n Bond and Christmas climb through an access hatch down onto\\n the electric RIG. Its\",\n \"to the region.\\n He married into the Vavra family, rich\\n local industrialists. He used those\\n connections to hold it all together.\\n\\n BOND\\n Kill the man, kill the pipeline.\\n\\n M\\n Not necessarily. Not with Elektra taking\\n over.\\n\\n Tanner notices a RED LIGHT start pulsing. He moves to M:\\n\\n TANNER\\n Your call to the PM.\\n\\n M nods grimly. As Robinson distributes sealed envelopes:\"\n ],\n [\n \"Your people? Your people will leave you\\n here to rot just like you left me. You\\n and my father. He didn't think my life\\n was worth the chump change he spent on a\\n day at the stock market.\\n\\n M\\n Your father...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Is nothing. His kingdom he stole from my\\n mother. The kingdom I will rightly take\\n back.\\n\\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\\n\\n M\\n She's insane. \",\n \"ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\\n dead? It's what you wanted.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (beat)\\n Of course...\\n\\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\\n\\n RENARD\\n He was a...good lover?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\",\n \"ays no fear. A quiet defiance burns in her.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Just as I promised.\\n\\n Renard steps forward. Bars separate him from M.\\n\\n RENARD\\n My executioner.\\n\\n M\\n Over-praise, I'm afraid. But my people\\n will finish the job.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Your people? Your people will leave you\\n here to rot just like you left me. You\\n and my father. He didn't think my\",\n \"(realizing)\\n You turned Renard.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (smiling)\\n Just like you...only you were even\\n easier.\\n\\n She pulls the jewel from her ear, reveals the ugly scar:\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I told him he had to hurt me, he had to\\n make it look real. When he refused I told\\n him I would do it myself.\\n\\n She turns the screw again.\\n\\n BOND\\n So you killed your father.\\n\\n E\",\n \"\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\\n trying to kill me?\\n\\n BOND\\n You can drop the act, it's over.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I don't know what you're talking about!\\n\\n BOND\\n I think you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd\",\n \"elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room.\\n\\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You're hurting me.\\n\\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\\n hide it.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Brought me something?\\n\\n He smiles, gr\",\n \"So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\\n force. And you left her there, at the\\n mercy of a man like me. You ruined her.\\n For what? To get to me? She is worth\\n fifty of me.\\n\\n M\\n For once, I agree with you.\\n\\n He shakes his head, amused by her pluck.\\n\\n M\\n So she used all that brilliance to get\\n revenge on her father, on me.\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I wanted you\",\n \"back.\\n\\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\\n\\n M\\n She's insane. Is that what you did to\\n her?\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I'm afraid it is what you did.\\n\\n He crosses close to the bars.\\n\\n RENARD\\n When I took her she was...promise itself.\\n So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\\n force. And you left her there, at the\\n mercy of a man like me\",\n \" The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Since I was a child, I've always had a\\n power over men. When I realized my father\\n wouldn't rescue me from the kidnappers, I\\n knew I had to form a new alliance.\\n\\n BOND\\n (realizing)\\n You turned Renard.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (smiling)\\n Just like you...\",\n \"\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n Or did you steal it from your old friend\\n Renard?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n ...what?\\n\\n BOND\\n We had a run-in, he and I. He knew about\\n us, he knew about my shoulder, he knew\\n exactly where to hurt me...\\n\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the\",\n \"TO:\\n\\n INT. BEDROOM - MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - NIGHT\\n\\n Renard and Elektra. She is on the bed, Renard stroking her,\\n worshipping her skin.\\n\\n RENARD\\n So beautiful. So smooth, so warm.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n How would you know?\\n\\n It stings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Why are you like this? \",\n \", her heart beating.\\n\\n M\\n Elektra. What time is it?\\n\\n Elektra picks up the little clock. Walks over to the cell\\n bars.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Time for you to die.\\n\\n And she reaches through the bars and HANDS M THE CLOCK.\\n\\n The two women's eyes meet.\\n\\n RENARD\\n The reactor is secured.\\n\\n She turns, sees RENARD in the doorway. She crosses to him\\n and SLAM\",\n \".\\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\\n of coffee.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to Foreman)\\n ...they should have been in place two\\n days ago. That is the target my father\\n set.\\n\\n FOREMAN\\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\\n\\n \",\n \"it myself.\\n\\n She turns the screw again.\\n\\n BOND\\n So you killed your father.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n He killed me! He killed me the day he\\n refused to pay my ransom.\\n\\n A flicker of emotion. Bond is getting to her.\\n\\n BOND\\n Was this all about the oil?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\\n\\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gaz\",\n \"?\\n\\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\\n Tormented.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n Now she runs the ice down her neck...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n But surely...\\n\\n ...her fingers becoming wet, she runs the ice down between\\n her breasts, leaving a trail. Teasing...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n ...You can feel this?\\n\\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\\n open, enjoying\",\n \"she used all that brilliance to get\\n revenge on her father, on me.\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I wanted you. I wanted you for\\n myself.\\n\\n He takes something out of his pocket. A small TRAVEL CLOCK.\\n He sets it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Since you sent your man to kill me, I\\n have been watching time tick slowly away,\\n marching inevitably toward my own death.\\n Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow,\\n your time is up. And I\",\n \". She tries to\\n hide it.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Brought me something?\\n\\n He smiles, grabs a case off one of his men, opens it up,\\n pulls out a sphere of cobalt blue metal.\\n\\n She looks at it with wary fascination.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Go on. It's safe. Touch your destiny.\\n\\n She traces a finger along the metal. A flicker of wonder:\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Warm.\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n hand.\\n\\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n Elektra comes to him. Leads him to the bed. Sits. Gently\\n removes the splinter. Then, she takes an icecube from the\\n bucket. Runs it along his wound.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What about this?\\n\\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\\n Tormented.\\n\\n REN\",\n \"ELEKTRA\\n Would you excuse us, Davidov?\\n\\n Davidov nods and leaves. Elektra still keeps her back turned,\\n but he can see her physically change, her shoulders sag, her\\n arms cross in front of her. When she finds her voice, it has\\n a gravelly sound of emotion.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I met you at my father's funeral.\\n\\n BOND\\n Yes.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I haven't been able to recall a single\\n \",\n \"\\n BOND\\n Yes.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I haven't been able to recall a single\\n moment of that day...until now.\\n\\n BOND\\n Funerals aren't exactly memorable.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n God no. All those horrible loved ones and\\n relatives. I don't want to talk to those\\n people. I just want to...talk to my\\n father.\\n (beat)\\n I loved him. I'm not sure he knew that.\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\n Something is disturbing a large expanse of water. A black\\n shadow looms beneath the waves. A SUBMARINE SURFACES.\\n\\n INT. SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - ISTANBUL - DAY\\n\\n Waiting at the newly excavated quay: Renard and his men.\\n\\n The submarine's hatch opens. A YOUTHFUL CAPTAIN EMERGES,\\n vaguely resembling his uncle, Z\",\n \" Everything not screwed\\n down starts sliding...\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS - LONG SHOT\\n\\n The submarine is tilting, further and further, the nose\\n dropping down and down...\\n\\n Pretty soon we have the strange and incredible sight of a\\n submarine hanging vertically, nose down.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER, SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Renard hangs on, swings, until he can get a footing on the\\n nearest\",\n \"hew, he is\\n Captain of a sub in the Black Sea Fleet.\\n\\n BOND\\n Where's the sub going?!\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n No! Get me out!\\n\\n BOND\\n This is too big for even you. Where is\\n it?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n This is a family matter! If my nephew is\\n in danger, we do it my way, or nothing!\\n Now get me out!\\n\\n But he looks more worried than\",\n \"\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n THE GAUGE IS PASSING 4900, EDGING TOWARDS THE NO-WAY-BACK\\n 5000 MARK. Meltdown imminent...\\n\\n He looks down the sub -- more water racing upward...\\n\\n Back to the pile. Scans the scene, searching for an idea.\\n Sees a HOSE, compressed air escaping from a fissure. Thinks\\n fast. Grabs the hose,\",\n \"He gets inside, yanks it closed...\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Christmas, shivering in the rising water.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Twenty.\\n\\n She presses a button...\\n\\n INT. CHAMBER BEYOND (NOW ABOVE) REACTOR - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n The hatch opens and Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\\n The hatch closes.\\n\\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here\",\n \"Tanks open.\\n\\n But the man has stretched his hand to a fire alarm:\\n\\n The KLAXON RESOUNDS.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE CONTROL ROOM - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Renard looks up.\\n\\n RENARD\\n (to self)\\n Bond...\\n\\n He flicks a switch;\\n\\n RENARD\\n (into mic)\\n Bond! You have decided to join me on this\\n historic voyage. Welcome to my nuclear\\n family\",\n \"AME\\n\\n Christmas is counting.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n One, one thousand, two, one thousand...\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE - UNDERWATER\\n\\n It's dark out here. It would be very easy for Bond to get\\n disoriented.\\n\\n He peers around, trying to get his bearings against the vast\\n vertical whale he's swimming up.\\n\\n Passes the conning tower.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n \",\n \"up.\\n\\n Passes the conning tower.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Fourteen, one thousand, fifteen, one\\n thousand...\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE - UNDERWATER\\n\\n Bond is running out of air...\\n\\n And then he sees it -- the open hatch of the rear escape\\n door.\\n\\n He gets inside, yanks it closed...\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Christmas, shivering\",\n \" To the room:\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n I'm looking for a submarine. It's big\\n and black, and the driver is a friend of\\n mine.\\n\\n Then his eye falls on the HAT Renard had brought up from\\n below. He knows at once what it means.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Bring it to me.\\n\\n She picks it up, walks to him (surreptitiously sliding a gun\\n beneath it). She proffers the hat...\\n\",\n \" RENARD scans the water with night-vision binoculars.\\n\\n EXT. BOSPHORUS - NIGHT - HIS GREEN POV:\\n\\n A SUPERTANKER churns along...\\n\\n ADJUST ANGLE\\n\\n The CAMERA SINKS BENEATH THE WAVES, steals through the gloom -\\n - eventually comes upon something sitting just beneath the\\n belly of the tanker. The silhouette of a SUBMARINE, hugging\\n the tanker'\",\n \"Bond and Christmas are ahead of the water. They have reached\\n a level where various systems are operated from.\\n\\n BOND\\n There's one chance.\\n\\n He punches buttons.\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE, BOSPHORUS - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n High up on the sub, a hatch opens. Water floods into an\\n escape hatch. An inner door stops it getting into the\\n submarine itself.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUO\",\n \"abs a ladder, pulls\\n himself up.\\n\\n The hatch is closing... He splashes through the water\\n flooding over the sub, appears in front of the amazed sailor\\n shutting the hatch. WHACKS him with the hatch. Gets inside.\\n Closes it. Milliseconds before the hatch slides under the\\n water.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bond down below. Renard's crew are spread throughout the sub.\\n He creeps through...\\n\\n\",\n \"Alright, alright! Sometimes I smuggle\\n machinery for her. Russian stuff.\\n\\n BOND\\n And the payoff on the tables?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n A special job. A...a...a submarine.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n What?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n To haul some cargo. My nephew, he is\\n Captain of a sub in the Black Sea Fleet.\\n\\n BOND\\n Where's the sub going?!\",\n \"TINUOUS\\n\\n Bond down below. Renard's crew are spread throughout the sub.\\n He creeps through...\\n\\n Approaches one man working some levers, smoking. Bond holds\\n his gun to his head.\\n\\n BOND\\n How do you want to die?\\n (re: cigarette)\\n That?\\n (re: gun)\\n Or this?\\n\\n INT. CABIN, SUBMARINE - MOMENTS LATER\\n\\n A few SOLID B\",\n \" Count to twenty. I'll be there.\\n\\n She moves over and seals the door, wrenches a lever which\\n immediately floods the chamber with water.\\n\\n INT. ESCAPE HATCH - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Inside the chamber, Bond holds his breath as water seeps in.\\n The most claustrophobic thing you've ever seen.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n A green light comes on and Christmas punches a button...\\n\\n EX\",\n \"\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n In the good old days, the KGB had three\\n or four spots where our submarines could\\n surface without anyone knowing. But\\n Yevgeny is supposed to be loading cargo.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n What class sub does your nephew run?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n C-class.\\n\\n BOND\\n Nuclear.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Not just nuclear. Powered by a nuclear\\n reactor.\\n\",\n \"OND\\n Whoever gets there first, Zukovsky. They\\n have M.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - DAY\\n\\n Eerie, dark, the lights inside green and sickly.\\n\\n CLOSE ON\\n\\n A half-eaten sandwich. An empty glass of brandy on the floor,\\n just near the hand it fell from...\\n\\n PULL BACK TO SEE\\n\\n The dead face of Yevgeny, poisoned. Others of his crew\\n\",\n \" Elektra would control it all.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n If what you say it true...it may be too\\n late for Yevgeny.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n INT. SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - ISTANBUL - DAY\\n\\n The ancient arched underbelly of a waterside building.\\n\\n Something is disturbing a large expanse of water. A black\\n shadow looms beneath the waves. A SUBMARINE\",\n \"him, is flung back, nearly falls through\\n the hatch but manages to grab a pipe, hangs on for dear life.\\n\\n THE GAUGE HITS 4700\\n\\n\\n BOND AND RENARD\\n\\n struggle... Both slamming into switches and buttons.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n OMITTED 314-316\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n THE GAUGE IS PASSING 4900\",\n \"M has seen it all.\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\\n\\n He moves to the ledge. Composes himself -- and\\n\\n DIVES ONE HUNDRED FEET to the water. Amazing.\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE, BOSPHORUS - DAY\\n\\n He surfaces close to the exiting sub. Grabs a ladder, pulls\\n himself up.\\n\\n The hatch is closing... He splashes through the water\\n flooding over the\"\n ],\n [\n \"AY\\n\\n Elektra has reached a balcony. It affords a spectacular view\\n of Istanbul. Bond appears, has her cornered.\\n\\n BOND\\n Call him off.\\n\\n He holds the walkie-talkie to her mouth.\\n\\n BOND\\n I won't ask again. Call him off!\\n\\n She looks at him seriously. He's giving her a last chance,\\n willing her to save herself and the city.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (into\",\n \"\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\\n trying to kill me?\\n\\n BOND\\n You can drop the act, it's over.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I don't know what you're talking about!\\n\\n BOND\\n I think you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd\",\n \" Elektra would control it all.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n If what you say it true...it may be too\\n late for Yevgeny.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n INT. SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - ISTANBUL - DAY\\n\\n The ancient arched underbelly of a waterside building.\\n\\n Something is disturbing a large expanse of water. A black\\n shadow looms beneath the waves. A SUBMARINE\",\n \".\\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\\n of coffee.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to Foreman)\\n ...they should have been in place two\\n days ago. That is the target my father\\n set.\\n\\n FOREMAN\\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\\n\\n \",\n \"wants to kill me, I'd rather die\\n looking him straight in the eye.\\n (lightly)\\n What are you doing here? Looking for a\\n woman a little more your type? How about\\n that one?\\n\\n She points to a SHOW GIRL in a feather headdress and pasties.\\n\\n BOND\\n If this little show is for my benefit,\\n I'll take you home right now.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You had your chance, James. Now I'm\\n \",\n \"it myself.\\n\\n She turns the screw again.\\n\\n BOND\\n So you killed your father.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n He killed me! He killed me the day he\\n refused to pay my ransom.\\n\\n A flicker of emotion. Bond is getting to her.\\n\\n BOND\\n Was this all about the oil?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\\n\\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gaz\",\n \"Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\\n carved chair, covered in silk.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to guards)\\n Take her to Renard.\\n\\n Bond and Christmas exchange a look as the guards start her\\n towards some steps.\\n\\n Elektra indicates for him to sit. Behind him, the whole of\\n Istanbul is visible through a large curved window.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\\n\\n Bond ignores her.\\n\\n\",\n \"'s giving her a last chance,\\n willing her to save herself and the city.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (into walkie-talkie)\\n Renard.\\n\\n Bond waits...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to Bond)\\n You wouldn't kill me. You'd miss me.\\n\\n And her face breaks into a perverted grin and --\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (into walkie-talkie)\\n Dive! Bond --\\n\\n BLAM!\",\n \"I am through the whole world\\n will know my name, my grandfather's name,\\n the glory of my people.\\n\\n BOND\\n No-one will believe this melt-down was an\\n accident.\\n\\n She eyes him, impressed that he's worked out her plan.\\n Tightens the screw again. Her confidence amazing.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n They will believe. They will all\\n believe.\\n\\n Tightening the screw again:\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You understand? Nobody\",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n He's struck again.\\n (beat)\\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\\n\\n He moves toward her.\\n\\n BOND\\n I'm coming with you.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You do what you have to do, but I've\\n called in M. She's en route from London\\n even now.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\\n\\n BOND\\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\\n what's the point of living if you can't\\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\\n Isn't that your motto?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n Or did you steal it from your\",\n \"\\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\\n HER POV:\\n\\n Big, battered and bloody, Valentin Zukovsky is leaving a\\n boat, moving over the rocks toward the entrance with three of\\n his men. Two bodies in his trail. He's on course for\\n Elektra and nothing is going to stop him, even as his\\n henchmen are cut down by feroc\",\n \"it up\\n like a terrorist attack. The explosion\\n covers up the theft of the plutonium.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Who's she?\\n\\n BOND\\n Elektra King.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Elektra King? Are you insane? This is\\n her pipeline.\\n\\n BOND\\n Makes her look even more innocent.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n (skeptical)\\n What would she want with weapons grade\\n\",\n \"TRA\\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\\n\\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gazing out\\n at this spectacular cradle of civilization. Bond works his\\n wristbinds feverishly.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It runs in my veins, thicker than blood.\\n I'm going to redraw the map.\\n And when I am through the whole world\\n will know my name, my grandfather's name,\\n the glory of my people.\\n\\n B\",\n \". It's\\n an exact duplicate. Inside is a tiny\\n electrical detonator. We have reason to\\n believe the assassin had an inside\\n accomplice, someone who worked at this\\n company.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n If you've come here to look after me, Mr.\\n Bond, thank you, but no thank you. I\\n have two bodyguards, I don't need a\\n third...\\n\\n She starts to walk out. He follows her...\\n\\n EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE\",\n \"ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\\n dead? It's what you wanted.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (beat)\\n Of course...\\n\\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\\n\\n RENARD\\n He was a...good lover?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\",\n \"BAKU - DAY\\n\\n Elektra works in her father's STUDY, illuminated by a halo of\\n light from a single desk lamp. Pictures of her grandfather\\n and father stare down at her from the walls. The wind BLOWS A\\n WINDOW open.\\n\\n She gets up, crosses the room, shutting the window. She\\n stands there, listening to the silence and then...\\n\\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\\n\\n She listens, a\",\n \" It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\\n of his life.\\n\\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in his eyes, with a sad half-\\n smile that unsettles him.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you trying to break my heart? Or is\\n it just your way with women?\\n\\n BOND\\n It's not the pin your father wore. It's\\n an exact duplicate. Inside is a tiny\\n electrical detonator. We have reason to\\n believe the assassin had\",\n \"ive falls in love\\n with her captor.\\n\\n At the word \\\"love,\\\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\\n unsuspecting Bond hard across the face.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n How dare you! How dare you! That\\n animal!? That monster!? He disgusts me!\\n You disgust me! So he knew where to hurt\\n you, is that it? You had a sling on your\\n arm at the funeral! I didn't have to\\n sleep with you to find that\",\n \" She drops her head back on the wall. She will not sleep\\n tonight.\\n\\n DISSOLVE TO:\\n\\n OMITTED: 236 - 243\\n\\n EXT. ISTANBUL - DAWN\\n\\n ESTABLISH the vast city astride the Bosphorus.\\n\\n EXT. ISTANBUL STREETS - SAME\\n\\n The sun starting to rise. Street vendors are the only people\\n about, moving their carts into place, getting ready to\"\n ],\n [\n \"blow with his feet. Both rigs moving together now, he CLIMBS\\n ONTO THE BOMB RIG...Puts out a hand, helps Christmas across.\\n\\n The bomb sits there, daunting, deadly.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Tactical fission device. Low yield.\\n\\n They look at one another, then set straight to work.\\n\\n INT. COMMAND ROOM - PIPELINE CONTROL CENTRE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n The room is quiet, tense. M and\",\n \"to his feet, pulls her up. They run like hell for\\n the hatch, into the darkness...\\n\\n EXT. PIPELINE - DAY\\n\\n The pipeline. A long beat, then...\\n\\n KABOOM!! A section of the pipe explodes, debris rocketing in\\n every direction.\\n\\n As the smoke clears we see a fifty yard section of pipe has\\n been destroyed.\\n\\n OMIT 223\\n\\n INT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER - SAME\\n\\n On the cons\",\n \"0:43... Makes a decision.\\n\\n BOND\\n Let it blow.\\n\\n Christmas shoots a look, astonished.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n But we can stop it.\\n\\n Taking her arm...\\n\\n BOND\\n Let it blow.\\n\\n She can't believe what he's saying. His eyes shoot to an\\n INSPECTION HATCH the lights illuminate up ahead.\\n\\n BOND\\n Trust me. Leave it.\\n\\n He grabs\",\n \", yanks a PISTOL from his holster, GRABS Christmas,\\n LEAPS down into the bomb PIT just as\\n\\n RENARD'S MEN open fire... Akakievich dies straight away. So\\n do two of his men. The gunfire RICOCHETS around the chamber\\n and ceases.\\n\\n Renard hangs back. His radio crackles a message:\\n\\n RENARD\\n (nods, into radio)\\n Shut them.\\n\\n THE GUY ON\",\n \"Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\\n The hatch closes.\\n\\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here. Bond looks down at\\n the sealed door of the reactor chamber, curses.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bathed in the horrible light of the over-heating reactor,\\n Renard looks upwards, aware of sounds on the other side of\\n the door...\\n\\n KER-BLAM! A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT.\",\n \"off the missile toward the\\n disappearing Chopper One.\\n\\n EXT. CHOPPER\\n\\n A DIRECT HIT. Chopper One explodes and falls onto the walkway\\n setting the scene ablaze.\\n\\n EXT. WALKWAYS - SAME\\n\\n Zukovsky and Christmas see the explosion, then see Chopper\\n Two dropped FOUR ARMED MEN onto a nearby walkway. The men\\n make their way toward the factory, firing at the guards.\\n Zukovsky and Christmas are\",\n \"It is the beginning. The world will\\n never be the same.\\n\\n He lays the Captain's hat down. Tries to mask his sorrow.\\n\\n RENARD\\n It will be yours, and yours alone. Have\\n fun with it.\\n\\n Forces himself to leave, heads down the stairs.\\n\\n INT. M'S CELL - SAME\\n\\n M works quickly. She pops open the back of the clock and\\n takes out the batteries. She pries off the tops with a key\\n and connects the\",\n \"The scream, like a wounded animal, echoes throughout the\\n doomed craft.\\n\\n BACK ON RENARD, gasping, spent.\\n\\n RENARD\\n You will die for this.\\n\\n He strides through to the\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER\\n\\n Jams shut the hatch behind him. Now moves through to the\\n\\n INT. CHAMBER BEYOND REACTOR\\n\\n Where he picks up the PLUTONIUM. Moves back into the\\n\\n INT. REACTOR\",\n \".\\n\\n OMIT 223\\n\\n INT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER - SAME\\n\\n On the consoles, red concentric circles pulse outward from\\n the point of impact, emitting one, monotone BEEP....\\n\\n The watchers are frozen, stunned, shocked. Gabor, a radio\\n earpiece in his ear, reports information.\\n\\n GABOR\\n It wasn't nuclear...the bomb was a dud.\\n The trigger charge blew out a fifty yard\\n section of pipeline\",\n \"now above him...the chopper's relentless saws CUT\\n THROUGH THE PIPE...GAS JETS OUT...Bond HURLS HIMSELF up a\\n stairway.\\n\\n INT. CAVIAR FISHERY\\n\\n Zukovsky and Christmas watch in horror as Chopper One blades\\n away more roof above them.\\n\\n EXT. LOWER WALKWAY\\n\\n Bond takes something out of his pocket, a remote control\\n device...he presses some buttons...HIS C\",\n \"aps to his feet, racing forward, firing -- gets to the\\n elevator as Renard disappears upwards with a smile. He POINTS\\n DOWN...underneath him...\\n\\n Bond looks down.\\n\\n HIS P.O.V. BENEATH THE ELEVATOR...A makeshift explosive\\n device...sticks of dynamite wrapped around a detonator, set\\n to explode\\n\\n Eyes wide, Bond looks back to the doors -- then to the switch\\n panel -- now just a chaos of sparking wires.\",\n \"!\\n\\n BOND\\n Then it's no longer a bomb?\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n (back to work, urgent)\\n It's a bomb alright. We're still dead if\\n the trigger charge goes off...\\n\\n Bond's mind races in the ghostly light of the tunnel.\\n\\n He stares at the timer: 0:44, 0:43... Makes a decision.\\n\\n BOND\\n Let it blow.\\n\\n Christmas shoots a look\",\n \".\\n\\n Bond looks at the pack he left on the ground...\\n\\n He grabs Christmas and HURLS HER TO THE FLOOR.\\n\\n KABOOM!\\n\\n A MASSIVE EXPLOSION rips the place apart. In half a second\\n the air is thick with coloured dust and drifting clumps of\\n burning silk.\\n\\n Bond stands. Christmas is stunned, but okay. He looks\\n around at the others - few dead, all out for the count, among\\n them, Zukovsky\",\n \" Sees a HOSE, compressed air escaping from a fissure. Thinks\\n fast. Grabs the hose, snaps it free...\\n\\n RENARD\\n\\n is recovering, has found a FLARE GUN near him. Raises it to\\n Bond...\\n\\n BOND'S POV\\n\\n in the reflection of the gauge (which is millimeters from\\n 5000), we see Renard approaching from behind us...\\n\\n BOND jams the hose into the reactor, d\",\n \"ony. He shoves Bond down. Bond's hand goes to his\\n shoulder, his mind now racing -- how did he know to hurt him\\n there?\\n\\n Renard's men start to maneuver the bomb toward the curving\\n passageway. It's all too much for Colonel Akakievich:\\n\\n COLONEL AKAKIEVICH\\n No -- the bomb does not go anywhere until\\n I am satisfied. All of you to the\\n surface, now...\\n\\n Renard stops and turns. Bond\",\n \"MAYHEM. FIRE blasts out of the open doorway just as Bond\\n reaches it. The STEEL DOOR flies toward him. He dives --\\n\\n EXT. MI-6/RIVER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n The building rocks. SMOKE is pouring from a HOLE that's\\n appeared in a lower tier. A wall and a section of roof gone.\\n\\n EXT. MI-6/RIVER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n A figure staggers out, shaken. \",\n \"onto a nearby walkway. The men\\n make their way toward the factory, firing at the guards.\\n Zukovsky and Christmas are forced inside.\\n\\n ANGLE ON BOND\\n\\n Who sees the danger to the others and runs off along the\\n walkways back to the factory. The Chopper follows him,\\n shooting.\\n\\n Bond outruns it, until, ahead of him A GRENADE EXPLODES,\\n destroying the walkway and hurling Bond into the water.\\n\\n EXT. FACT\",\n \"INE LOWER DECK - MOMENTS LATER\\n\\n Bond and Christmas get attacked. A vicious, silent fight...\\n Then the radio set sparks into life --\\n\\n RENARD\\n Open the tanks.\\n\\n Bond is throttling the man with the cable. Speaks into the\\n handset.\\n\\n BOND\\n (disguising voice)\\n Tanks open.\\n\\n But the man has stretched his hand to a fire alarm:\\n\\n The KLAXON RESOUNDS.\",\n \"\\n CHRISTMAS\\n What the hell were you doing? You nearly\\n killed us!\\n\\n BOND\\n I did kill us. She thinks we're dead.\\n And she thinks she got away with it.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n What the hell are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n It's part of some plan. She dresses it up\\n like a terrorist attack. The explosion\\n covers up the theft of the plutonium.\\n\\n CHRIST\",\n \"M...THE PIT EXPLODES...\\n\\n INT. ELEVATOR\\n\\n Fire shoots up. Bond lunges to cover Christmas. As the smoke\\n clears:\\n\\n BOND\\n (finishing)\\n James Bond.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. MESA - TEST FACILITY - KAZAKHSTAN - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Christmas and Bond climb out of the duct. Through a cloud of\\n dust he can see people running about\"\n ],\n [\n \"pares to turn it the last\\n time...His hand strains at its binding...\\n\\n BOND\\n One... last... screw?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (kissing his ear)\\n Oh James.\\n\\n She begins to turn the screw...\\n\\n ... when SEVERAL GUNSHOTS are heard outside.\\n\\n Bond is on the edge of consciousness.\\n\\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TO\",\n \", Davidov soon joining them,\\n trying to look like he hasn't been through hell. Bond\\n notices the burn on his head. Davidov touches it self-\\n consciously.\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n A little accident.\\n\\n BOND\\n A night of burning passion?\\n\\n Davidov scowls at him. Bond leads Elektra away...\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n A DISTANT P.O.V. FROM HIGH ABOVE.\\n\\n Someone watches Bond and\",\n \"ignoring her)\\n Where's M?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\\n\\n Bond keeps his cool:\\n\\n BOND\\n All this, because you fell for Renard?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Five more turns and your neck will break.\\n\\n She moves to the back of the chair, twists the screw ONE\\n NOTCH. The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\\n\\n \",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n James. You can't kill me. Not in cold\\n blood.\\n\\n But Bond isn't wavering. Clutches Zukovsky's bloody wet gun.\\n\\n He heads up in the semi-darkness -- and suddenly swings to\\n his right, at an unexpected but familiar Voice:\\n\\n M\\n Bond --\\n\\n Bond kicks open a door and enters...\\n\\n M'S PRISON ROOM\\n\\n He fires at the lock on her cell door and f\",\n \".\\n\\n The soldiers get into the elevator and disappear, leaving\\n Bond completely ALONE.\\n\\n Dead silence in the shadows. Bond's in his element, that\\n alert glint in his eye as he takes in his surroundings.\\n\\n HIS P.O.V. A long, dark corridor...leading off to a more\\n open circle in the distance, lights and an ominous humming\\n there.\\n\\n Bond starts down the passageway.\\n\\n INT. TEST CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Ahead\",\n \"ovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\\n further, staring at Bond...\\n\\n A look passes between the two men. Comrades in arms. The\\n merest of smiles. Then the light fades from his eyes. Dead.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n\\n turns back to Bond. Smiles.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Excuse me.\\n\\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:\",\n \"\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\\n trying to kill me?\\n\\n BOND\\n You can drop the act, it's over.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I don't know what you're talking about!\\n\\n BOND\\n I think you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd\",\n \"Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\\n carved chair, covered in silk.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to guards)\\n Take her to Renard.\\n\\n Bond and Christmas exchange a look as the guards start her\\n towards some steps.\\n\\n Elektra indicates for him to sit. Behind him, the whole of\\n Istanbul is visible through a large curved window.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\\n\\n Bond ignores her.\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n Bond and Elektra stand, lone figures in the perfect white.\\n They hear a sound...HELICOPTER ROTORS. Rescue on its way.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. ELEKTRA'S VILLA - DAY\\n\\n An establishing shot of Bond's BMW parked outside the ornate\\n villa on the shore of the golden Caspian.\\n\\n INT. ENTRANCE HALL, ELEKTRA'S VILLA - DAY\\n\\n Palat\",\n \"Gabor opens the door. Elektra sweeps through...\\n\\n INT. ENTRANCE HALL, ELEKTRA'S VILLA - NIGHT\\n\\n Bond pauses just inside the open doorway.\\n\\n HIS P.O.V. Two figures in the cavernous entrance hall,\\n Elektra having a brief word with Gabor, before he turns and\\n exits, leaving only...\\n\\n ELEKTRA AND BOND.\\n\\n She starts upstairs, Bond's eyes locked on her body, and\\n then:\",\n \"IVE BODY BAGS are being carried out by soldiers. M surveys\\n the scene; in an unlit corridor CHRISTMAS JONES and several\\n men sweep the area with CLICKING Geiger counters.\\n\\n ELEKTRA is a distance away, listening to a Turkish policeman\\n explain what's happening. She nods acknowledgement to M.\\n\\n Tanner senses that Bond wants to talk to M alone:\\n\\n TANNER\\n I'll see how they're coming with the\\n power...\\n\",\n \" I'll need some help...\\n\\n Her IDA colleagues look sheepish. Bond moves to her.\\n\\n BOND\\n Come on.\\n\\n For just a moment, Christmas looks wary:\\n\\n BOND\\n Unless you'd like to see my ID first.\\n\\n She almost smiles.\\n\\n M nods to Tanner to follow them. Bond doesn't look at\\n Elektra. But she watches him go...\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. HEL\",\n \"holding\\n CHRISTMAS hostage as well.\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\\n\\n A magnificent ornate tower in the centre of the Bosphorus.\\n\\n An innocent-looking launch coasts up to it. A tarp is raised\\n and Bond and Christmas are revealed, hands bound. They are\\n helped out, led inside by a number of henchmen.\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\\n\\n Elektra crosses the hallway as the doors open. Kiss\",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n He's struck again.\\n (beat)\\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\\n\\n He moves toward her.\\n\\n BOND\\n I'm coming with you.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You do what you have to do, but I've\\n called in M. She's en route from London\\n even now.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\\n\\n\",\n \" The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Since I was a child, I've always had a\\n power over men. When I realized my father\\n wouldn't rescue me from the kidnappers, I\\n knew I had to form a new alliance.\\n\\n BOND\\n (realizing)\\n You turned Renard.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (smiling)\\n Just like you...\",\n \"at\\n Elektra. But she watches him go...\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n The MI-6 helicopter swoops along the pipeline...\\n\\n Tanner is beside the pilot. Bond and Christmas in the back.\\n\\n They look at one another, the danger ahead melting the frost\\n between them.\\n\\n INT. PIPELINE - LATER\\n\\n Bond and Christmas climb through an access hatch down onto\\n the electric RIG. Its\",\n \"\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\\n\\n Elektra crosses the hallway as the doors open. Kisses Bond\\n on the cheek as she eyes Christmas.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n James Bond and his amazing resurrection.\\n If only you'd kept away, we might have\\n met again in a few years, become lovers\\n once more.\\n\\n Christmas eyes Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\\n carved chair, covered in silk.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n\",\n \"amused as\\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\\n to shoot Bond!\\n\\n Bond stares back. Zukovsky's eye narrows -- trying for\\n extreme accuracy...\\n\\n BLAM! The SHOT hits the binding at Bond's wrist. Splinters\\n the wood there.\\n\\n ELEKTRA stares at Zukovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\\n further\",\n \"Finally, arrested by the strength in his eyes, she calms...\\n\\n EXT. MOUNTAINS - MOMENTS LATER\\n\\n A beautiful expanse of smooth virgin snow. All is quiet.\\n CLOSER\\n\\n Bond's fist PUNCHES through the white. He pulls the snow\\n away, climbs out. Leans in, lifts Elektra out.\\n\\n Bond and Elektra stand, lone figures in the perfect white.\\n They hear a sound...HELICOPTER ROTORS\",\n \"WY WASTES. It reaches a mountain\\n peak, hovers. The wind is strong, buffeting.\\n\\n Elektra and Bond are both now in ski suits, Bond wearing a\\n sleek black jacket.\\n\\n PILOT\\n Can't land. Wind's too strong!\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Just hold her steady.\\n (to Bond)\\n You wanted to see it.\\n\\n She steps into her skis, opens the door. Wind rushes in.\\n\\n EXT.\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n RENARD\\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\\n get on my knees and pray for it. You, on\\n the other hand, you have something to\\n live for, no?\\n (closer now)\\n She's beautiful isn't she? You should\\n have seen her before. Flawless, and still\\n so innocent, not such a whore in bed...\\n\\n Bond's eyes flare in fury. He shoves Renard into the wall\\n and presses the gun to his\",\n \" Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\\n to placate...\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n The plane...it's all been arranged...\\n\\n RENARD\\n Then you are completely unnecessary...\\n\\n Renard raises the container of oil over Davidov's head:\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n I have the documents, the landing\\n authorizations, the security passes...\\n\\n Renard stops, the oil tilted, just ready to pour...\\n\\n His dead eye...has it drooped\",\n \"\\n RENARD\\n It's I who should thank you -- for taking\\n that money back to MI-6. So distressing\\n for M. An explosion inside her lair.\\n\\n BOND\\n She'll get over it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n You even brought the plane for us. We\\n really couldn't have done it without you.\\n\\n Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\\n blood\",\n \"The scream, like a wounded animal, echoes throughout the\\n doomed craft.\\n\\n BACK ON RENARD, gasping, spent.\\n\\n RENARD\\n You will die for this.\\n\\n He strides through to the\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER\\n\\n Jams shut the hatch behind him. Now moves through to the\\n\\n INT. CHAMBER BEYOND REACTOR\\n\\n Where he picks up the PLUTONIUM. Moves back into the\\n\\n INT. REACTOR\",\n \"...\\n\\n PULL BACK TO SEE\\n\\n The dead face of Yevgeny, poisoned. Others of his crew\\n around, also dead.\\n\\n Renard and his men tour the grisly scene.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Take them up and throw them in the sea.\\n\\n As they drag Yevgeny away, his HAT falls on the ground.\\n Renard picks it up and PUTS IT ON HIS HEAD.\\n\\n RENARD\\n We'll be underway in two hours\",\n \"she used all that brilliance to get\\n revenge on her father, on me.\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I wanted you. I wanted you for\\n myself.\\n\\n He takes something out of his pocket. A small TRAVEL CLOCK.\\n He sets it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Since you sent your man to kill me, I\\n have been watching time tick slowly away,\\n marching inevitably toward my own death.\\n Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow,\\n your time is up. And I\",\n \"Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\\n The hatch closes.\\n\\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here. Bond looks down at\\n the sealed door of the reactor chamber, curses.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bathed in the horrible light of the over-heating reactor,\\n Renard looks upwards, aware of sounds on the other side of\\n the door...\\n\\n KER-BLAM! A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT.\",\n \" INT. SALON PRIVE\\n\\n The HENCHMAN holds Davidov against the wall with his huge\\n fist around his neck. Near his head, the live flame of a\\n SCONCE hisses, burning blue and yellow, drawing their fuel\\n from the glass basin of hot oil attached beneath it.\\n\\n The HOOKER, obviously one of Renard's gang, has finished\\n donning her khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\\n onto her shoulder.\\n\\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\\n\",\n \", yanks a PISTOL from his holster, GRABS Christmas,\\n LEAPS down into the bomb PIT just as\\n\\n RENARD'S MEN open fire... Akakievich dies straight away. So\\n do two of his men. The gunfire RICOCHETS around the chamber\\n and ceases.\\n\\n Renard hangs back. His radio crackles a message:\\n\\n RENARD\\n (nods, into radio)\\n Shut them.\\n\\n THE GUY ON\",\n \"\\n It throbs and shifts with the slightest facial expression,\\n like an insect living just beneath his skin. One EYE seems\\n slightly drooping, deadened. The other eye is sharp and black\\n as anthracite. It is a frightening face. This is RENARD.\\n\\n RENARD\\n What's his name? Our friend from MI-6?\\n\\n CIGAR GIRL\\n James Bond.\\n\\n RENARD\\n One of M's more accomplished tin\\n soldiers.\\n\\n \",\n \" it...the man slips it into his pocket.\\n\\n BOND\\n Revenge isn't so hard to fathom. What's\\n clever is getting someone else to pay for\\n it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Not many people in this world have that\\n kind of fortune.\\n\\n Bond cocks the pistol.\\n\\n BOND\\n Who is it?\\n\\n RENARD\\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\\n get on my knees and pray for it. You,\",\n \" 5000), we see Renard approaching from behind us...\\n\\n BOND jams the hose into the reactor, ducks down -- as the air\\n blows the rod out - narrowly missing him as it shoots past --\\n impales Renard in the heart, just before he could shoot.\\n\\n Renard stares at Bond in horror. Bond calmly takes the flare\\n gun off him.\\n\\n BOND\\n She's waiting for you.\\n\\n And he lets him fall past Christmas, through consecutive open\",\n \"in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\\n\\n Renard disembarks with several of his retinue, heavily laden\\n with bags and cases. They enter the tower...\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n A fantastic space: stained glass windows cast myriad\\n patterns over elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room\",\n \". Then, he comes\\n to notice a figure, across the expanse of the pit, on the\\n opposite side of the catwalk, a man, with his back to him, in\\n Russian Army fatigues.\\n\\n BOND\\n Corporal?\\n\\n The man turns...\\n\\n IT IS RENARD.\\n\\n He smiles.\\n\\n RENARD\\n I see my friend Davidov ran into some\\n difficulty.\\n\\n BOND\\n Indeed.\\n\\n Renard starts toward him. Bond draws\",\n \"elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room.\\n\\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You're hurting me.\\n\\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\\n hide it.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Brought me something?\\n\\n He smiles, gr\",\n \"Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\\n blood curiously, feeling no pain.\\n\\n RENARD\\n A man tires of being executed.\\n\\n As Bond screws a silencer onto the muzzle of his gun:\\n\\n RENARD\\n But then again...There is no point in\\n living if you can't...feel alive.\\n\\n Bond knows that, he's heard it somewhere before...IT FREEZES\\n HIM\",\n \"khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\\n onto her shoulder.\\n\\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Is this how you spend the money I pay\\n you? And with the rest you hire fools who\\n shoot like blind men?\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n (croaks out)\\n Bond...\\n\\n RENARD\\n Should be dead as well. Your failure\\n today is astonishing. It is a disgrace.\\n\\n He approaches close to\",\n \"ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\\n dead? It's what you wanted.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (beat)\\n Of course...\\n\\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\\n\\n RENARD\\n He was a...good lover?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\",\n \". PASSAGEWAY\\n\\n WITH BOND as the bullets cease with a loud CLICK... What\\n Bond was waiting for. He moves. The gunman frozen in the\\n light, grappling to fit another clip --\\n\\n BLAM! He goes down. Bond not wasting bullets.\\n\\n INT. OTHER END OF PASSAGEWAY\\n\\n Renard is loading the bomb it into the ELEVATOR. He flicks a\\n switch on the panel by the elevator. The IRIS starts closing\\n on Bond\",\n \"on top, or not on top?\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n On top.\\n\\n She slowly pulls a pair of SILK ROPES out from her bra and\\n DANGLES THEM.\\n\\n HOOKER\\n Tied up, or not tied up?\\n\\n Davidov smiles, struggling with his belt. He looks down,\\n gets it, looks up...his heart stops...it is not the hooker in\\n the mirror but...\\n\\n RENARD'S FRIGHTENING FACE.\\n\\n David\"\n ],\n [\n \"procedure, Mr. Bond,\\n but you understand, a man in my\\n position..\\n\\n BOND\\n Which is neutral, no doubt.\\n\\n Lachaise takes the joke a little tight-lipped. Gestures for\\n Bond to sit.\\n\\n A GIRL ENTERS, a gorgeous Swiss bombshell in a pin-striped\\n suit. She pushes a cart. On it are a BRIEFCASE and a box of\\n EXPENSIVE CIGARS, which she offers to Lachaise and Bond\",\n \"source.\\n\\n INT. HALLWAY OFFICE BUILDING - DAY\\n\\n An engraved brass plaque announcing the name of the \\\"private\\n banking institute\\\" within.\\n\\n INT. PENTHOUSE BANK OFFICE - GENEVA - DAY\\n\\n JAMES BOND, dressed impeccably as ever, is being FRISKED by\\n three THUGS in Armani suits. They remove A GUN from inside\\n his jacket, a well-concealed knife, a metal case, laying them\",\n \"\\t\\t\\n\\n T H E W O R L D I S N O T E N O U G H\\n\\n (BOND 19)\\n\\n --------------------------------------------------------------\\n\\n GUN BARREL LOGO OPENS ON\\n\\n GENEVA SWITZERLAND, an unnaturally clean city that melds old\\n Europe with new money of both dubious and legitimate source.\\n\\n INT. HALLWAY OFFICE BUILDING - DAY\\n\\n An engraved brass plaque announcing the name\",\n \"INT. BANK - GENEVA - DAY\\n\\n Bond appears on the top floor of the grand old building, by\\n the elevator. Looks over the balcony, sees figures on the\\n stairs. Hears the elevator cage start from below.\\n\\n Thinking fast, he wrenches open the steel gate, leans into\\n the lift shaft, watches the elevator COUNTERWEIGHT as it\\n comes down. Almost nonchalant, he steps out...\\n\\n INT. STAIRWELL/ELEVATOR SHAFT - DAY\",\n \". I need some information.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Bond, I'm a civilian. This is my place.\\n Used to be the royal family's, now it's\\n mine. I run my little business, I stay\\n out of trouble...\\n\\n BOND\\n (looking about)\\n Mafia warlords, Diplomats and spies,\\n consortiums from every country in the\\n world. A nice little rat's nest.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\",\n \"Armani suits. They remove A GUN from inside\\n his jacket, a well-concealed knife, a metal case, laying them\\n on the desk that separates Bond and...\\n\\n LACHAISE...an extremely well-groomed gentleman. Behind him,\\n three floor-to-ceiling windows lead out to a rooftop garden.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n Not the usual Swiss procedure, Mr. Bond,\\n but you understand, a man in my\\n position..\\n\\n BOND\\n Which is neutral\",\n \"the\\n SECURE ROOM. Bond hands the suitcase to a STAFF MEMBER.\\n\\n BOND\\n Have this checked, see what you can get\\n off it.\\n\\n INT. MONEYPENNY'S OFFICE, MI-6 - DAY\\n\\n Bond appears, hiding something behind his back. Moneypenny\\n brightens.\\n\\n MONEYPENNY\\n James. Brought me a souvenir from\\n Geneva?\\n\\n He produces the cigar, now in a\",\n \"and opening it up...inside is a good\\n deal of CASH in pound sterling.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n In the current exchange rate, minus the\\n fees, of course, and certain\\n unforeseeable expenses. Here is the\\n receipt...\\n\\n The CIGAR GIRL offers Bond a RECEIPT...\\n\\n CIGAR GIRL\\n Would you like to check my figures?\\n\\n BOND\\n Perhaps later.\\n\\n She steps back. Bond reaches for the metal case\",\n \"in background, the seaplane moors beneath the\\n vast stepped cake that is MI-6. Bond exits with the\\n suitcase.\\n\\n INT. SECURITY, MI-6 - DAY\\n\\n CAMERA MOVES with Bond as he enters this secret, hi-tech\\n world. He passes through countless security procedures,\\n watched by an attentive staff.\\n\\n Bond scoops the money out of the suitcase. Three million\\n sterling in tightly bundled hundreds makes quite a sight. He\\n f\",\n \"SE\\n I am just a middle man. I am doing the\\n honourable thing and returning the money\\n to its rightful owner...\\n\\n BOND\\n And we know how difficult that can be for\\n the Swiss.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n (controlled fury)\\n Your last chance. Take the money.\\n\\n BOND\\n Your last chance. Give me the name.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n Stripped of all your weaponry, you still\\n threaten me?\\n\\n\",\n \"them we spot BOND...one of them,\\n with a briefcase and a suit and tie...HOLD on his face,\\n troubled.\\n\\n INT. HOTEL - GENEVA - DAY\\n\\n The Cigar Girl enters a huge, high-ceilinged room. Edgy, she\\n approaches a BIG MAN standing on a balcony overlooking the\\n city. Propped against the doorframe, an assassin's RIFLE\\n with LASER-SIGHT attached. BINOCULARS are on a trip\",\n \"He looks out at the long stretch of pipeline, like a deadly\\n snake with the world for its bed.\\n\\n BOND\\n I know I promised you champagne, but\\n would you settle for caviar?\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - ISTANBUL - TWILIGHT\\n\\n A boat puts in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\\n\\n Renard disemb\",\n \"cigar into his pocket...\\n\\n Except Henchman #1 has recovered, blocks his way, gun in\\n hand. He starts to squeeze the trigger -- when a RED DOT\\n appears on his chest...another window SHATTERS as a bullet\\n zings through and pierces the henchman in the heart.\\n\\n Bond looks back once at the shattered window, then heads out.\\n\\n INT. BANK - GENEVA - DAY\\n\\n Bond appears on the top floor of the grand old building, by\\n the elevator.\",\n \". Almost nonchalant, he steps out...\\n\\n INT. STAIRWELL/ELEVATOR SHAFT - DAY\\n\\n As the cageful of police rises, Bond is now standing on the\\n counterweight, DESCENDING.\\n\\n EXT. STREET - GENEVA\\n\\n Lunchtime. Faceless business crowds heading for their brief\\n moment of freedom, among them we spot BOND...one of them,\\n with a briefcase and a suit and tie...HOLD on his face,\\n trou\",\n \"it are a BRIEFCASE and a box of\\n EXPENSIVE CIGARS, which she offers to Lachaise and Bond.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n It wasn't easy, but I retrieved the\\n money. No doubt Sir Robert will be\\n pleased to see it again.\\n\\n The efficient Cigar Girl brings the briefcase to Bond,\\n setting it in his lap and opening it up...inside is a good\\n deal of CASH in pound sterling.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n In\",\n \"s toast this James Bond. We're in\\n his hands now...\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. RIVER THAMES - LONDON - DAY\\n\\n A SEAPLANE swoops over the Millennium Dome, banks along the\\n snaking river.\\n\\n EXT. MI-6 - LONDON - DAY\\n\\n Tate Gallery in background, the seaplane moors beneath the\\n vast stepped cake that is MI-6. Bond exits with the\\n suitcase\",\n \" them turns to look back, unaware that she is on display. She\\n returns Bond's smile. Her friend turns to look. Bond's\\n smile grows: she has a small pistol concealed over one\\n breast.\\n\\n INT. CASINO NOIR D'OR, BAKU - NIGHT\\n\\n He looks over the lenses -- and spies someone on the fringes.\\n His old adversary, ex-KGB, VALENTIN ZUKOVSKY, talking to some\\n suspicious types. Zuk\",\n \"and a military haircut.\\n\\n The man seems to see Bond looking at him...\\n\\n M\\n Bond, we'll meet you inside.\\n\\n Bond looks at her for a brief second...when he turns back,\\n the man is gone, like an APPARITION.\\n\\n Bond walks off, up the grassy slope, toward the rise.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n THE VIEW ACROSS THE VALLEY\\n\\n Bond stands on the hill, looking below. He sees nothing but\\n a green carpet,\",\n \"\\n\\n BOND\\n The amount of money that killed Robert\\n King is the same amount as the ransom\\n demand for Elektra.\\n\\n He hands her a slip of paper.\\n\\n BOND\\n Whoever kidnapped Elektra is the same man\\n who killed her father.\\n\\n M looks at the paper, a long time.\\n\\n M\\n It's a message. He wants us to know he's\\n back.\\n\\n BOND\\n Who?\\n\\n \",\n \"the swirling dust and smoke, he suddenly sees a wand of\\n red light, pointing at his chest.\\n\\n All instinct, he dives for cover. Powerful, high velocity\\n bullet hits blanket the area. Bond prepares to return fire,\\n scanning around for the source. Through the debris he spots\\n an unusual, hi-tech BOAT on the river -- long and narrow and\\n low. A figure on board. THE CIGAR GIRL.\\n\\n ANGLE ON CIGAR GIRL\\n\\n She FIRES\"\n ],\n [\n \"Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\\n blood curiously, feeling no pain.\\n\\n RENARD\\n A man tires of being executed.\\n\\n As Bond screws a silencer onto the muzzle of his gun:\\n\\n RENARD\\n But then again...There is no point in\\n living if you can't...feel alive.\\n\\n Bond knows that, he's heard it somewhere before...IT FREEZES\\n HIM\",\n \"\\n It throbs and shifts with the slightest facial expression,\\n like an insect living just beneath his skin. One EYE seems\\n slightly drooping, deadened. The other eye is sharp and black\\n as anthracite. It is a frightening face. This is RENARD.\\n\\n RENARD\\n What's his name? Our friend from MI-6?\\n\\n CIGAR GIRL\\n James Bond.\\n\\n RENARD\\n One of M's more accomplished tin\\n soldiers.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n RENARD\\n It's I who should thank you -- for taking\\n that money back to MI-6. So distressing\\n for M. An explosion inside her lair.\\n\\n BOND\\n She'll get over it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n You even brought the plane for us. We\\n really couldn't have done it without you.\\n\\n Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\\n blood\",\n \"is the\\n hottest.\\n\\n Renard touches the glass well of oil.\\n\\n RENARD\\n The temperature is close to five hundred\\n degrees.\\n\\n Renard uses his knife and POPS the seal from the lamp,\\n removing the well of oil...a DROP of the hot oil FALLS ON HIS\\n HAND and SINGES IT BLACK in an instant...\\n\\n Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\\n to placate...\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n \",\n \"\\n RENARD\\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\\n get on my knees and pray for it. You, on\\n the other hand, you have something to\\n live for, no?\\n (closer now)\\n She's beautiful isn't she? You should\\n have seen her before. Flawless, and still\\n so innocent, not such a whore in bed...\\n\\n Bond's eyes flare in fury. He shoves Renard into the wall\\n and presses the gun to his\",\n \" Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\\n to placate...\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n The plane...it's all been arranged...\\n\\n RENARD\\n Then you are completely unnecessary...\\n\\n Renard raises the container of oil over Davidov's head:\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n I have the documents, the landing\\n authorizations, the security passes...\\n\\n Renard stops, the oil tilted, just ready to pour...\\n\\n His dead eye...has it drooped\",\n \" (beat)\\n That bullet is still there.\\n\\n Bond moves toward the ghostly Renard. We now see THE BULLET\\n INSIDE HIS SKULL.\\n\\n BOND\\n He survived?\\n\\n M\\n The doctor who saved him couldn't get it\\n out, so Renard killed him. When Interpol\\n found the x-rays, there was mild\\n jubilation. Effectively, he's a dead man.\\n\\n She presses a button, the hologram turns...\\n\\n\",\n \"The scream, like a wounded animal, echoes throughout the\\n doomed craft.\\n\\n BACK ON RENARD, gasping, spent.\\n\\n RENARD\\n You will die for this.\\n\\n He strides through to the\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER\\n\\n Jams shut the hatch behind him. Now moves through to the\\n\\n INT. CHAMBER BEYOND REACTOR\\n\\n Where he picks up the PLUTONIUM. Moves back into the\\n\\n INT. REACTOR\",\n \" INT. SALON PRIVE\\n\\n The HENCHMAN holds Davidov against the wall with his huge\\n fist around his neck. Near his head, the live flame of a\\n SCONCE hisses, burning blue and yellow, drawing their fuel\\n from the glass basin of hot oil attached beneath it.\\n\\n The HOOKER, obviously one of Renard's gang, has finished\\n donning her khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\\n onto her shoulder.\\n\\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\\n\",\n \"?\\n\\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\\n Tormented.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n Now she runs the ice down her neck...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n But surely...\\n\\n ...her fingers becoming wet, she runs the ice down between\\n her breasts, leaving a trail. Teasing...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n ...You can feel this?\\n\\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\\n open, enjoying\",\n \"she used all that brilliance to get\\n revenge on her father, on me.\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I wanted you. I wanted you for\\n myself.\\n\\n He takes something out of his pocket. A small TRAVEL CLOCK.\\n He sets it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Since you sent your man to kill me, I\\n have been watching time tick slowly away,\\n marching inevitably toward my own death.\\n Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow,\\n your time is up. And I\",\n \")\\n Take him away, I don't want him around as\\n we move the bomb.\\n (whispered, to Bond)\\n You had me. I knew you couldn't shoulder\\n the responsibility...\\n\\n And Renard jams his hand onto Bond's shoulder, squeezing his\\n collar-bone hard... Pain jolts through Bond, he drops to his\\n knees in agony. He shoves Bond down. Bond's hand goes to his\\n shoulder, his mind now racing -- how did he know to hurt him\",\n \"\\n Should be dead as well. Your failure\\n today is astonishing. It is a disgrace.\\n\\n He approaches close to him, stopping at the flaming SCONCE\\n near his head.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Do you know why the color is blue at the\\n wick?\\n\\n Davidov starts to sweat.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Because that is where the flame is the\\n hottest.\\n\\n Renard touches the glass well of oil.\\n\\n RENARD\\n The temperature is\",\n \"elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room.\\n\\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You're hurting me.\\n\\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\\n hide it.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Brought me something?\\n\\n He smiles, gr\",\n \"microphone.\\n\\n RENARD\\n In case you've forgotten. I'm dead\\n already.\\n\\n BOND\\n Haven't you heard the news? So is she.\\n\\n Renard's face screws up in pain more searing than any he\\n could feel in his skin...he SCREAMS...\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE...\\n\\n The scream, like a wounded animal, echoes throughout the\\n doomed craft.\\n\\n BACK ON RENARD, gasping, spent\",\n \"in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\\n\\n Renard disembarks with several of his retinue, heavily laden\\n with bags and cases. They enter the tower...\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n A fantastic space: stained glass windows cast myriad\\n patterns over elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room\",\n \"\\n hand.\\n\\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n Elektra comes to him. Leads him to the bed. Sits. Gently\\n removes the splinter. Then, she takes an icecube from the\\n bucket. Runs it along his wound.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What about this?\\n\\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\\n Tormented.\\n\\n REN\",\n \"...\\n\\n PULL BACK TO SEE\\n\\n The dead face of Yevgeny, poisoned. Others of his crew\\n around, also dead.\\n\\n Renard and his men tour the grisly scene.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Take them up and throw them in the sea.\\n\\n As they drag Yevgeny away, his HAT falls on the ground.\\n Renard picks it up and PUTS IT ON HIS HEAD.\\n\\n RENARD\\n We'll be underway in two hours\",\n \"\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\\n out the images. After a moment, he SMASHES HIS FIST through\\n the hand-painted wood. Elektra looks up.\\n\\n HER P.O.V. A huge splinter of wood juts out of Renard's\\n hand.\\n\\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n \",\n \"back.\\n\\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\\n\\n M\\n She's insane. Is that what you did to\\n her?\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I'm afraid it is what you did.\\n\\n He crosses close to the bars.\\n\\n RENARD\\n When I took her she was...promise itself.\\n So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\\n force. And you left her there, at the\\n mercy of a man like me\"\n ],\n [\n \".\\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\\n of coffee.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to Foreman)\\n ...they should have been in place two\\n days ago. That is the target my father\\n set.\\n\\n FOREMAN\\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\\n trying to kill me?\\n\\n BOND\\n You can drop the act, it's over.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I don't know what you're talking about!\\n\\n BOND\\n I think you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd\",\n \"ELEKTRA\\n Would you excuse us, Davidov?\\n\\n Davidov nods and leaves. Elektra still keeps her back turned,\\n but he can see her physically change, her shoulders sag, her\\n arms cross in front of her. When she finds her voice, it has\\n a gravelly sound of emotion.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I met you at my father's funeral.\\n\\n BOND\\n Yes.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I haven't been able to recall a single\\n \",\n \"ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\\n dead? It's what you wanted.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (beat)\\n Of course...\\n\\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\\n\\n RENARD\\n He was a...good lover?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\",\n \"BAKU - DAY\\n\\n Elektra works in her father's STUDY, illuminated by a halo of\\n light from a single desk lamp. Pictures of her grandfather\\n and father stare down at her from the walls. The wind BLOWS A\\n WINDOW open.\\n\\n She gets up, crosses the room, shutting the window. She\\n stands there, listening to the silence and then...\\n\\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\\n\\n She listens, a\",\n \"\\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\\n HER POV:\\n\\n Big, battered and bloody, Valentin Zukovsky is leaving a\\n boat, moving over the rocks toward the entrance with three of\\n his men. Two bodies in his trail. He's on course for\\n Elektra and nothing is going to stop him, even as his\\n henchmen are cut down by feroc\",\n \"\\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\\n\\n BOND\\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\\n what's the point of living if you can't\\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\\n Isn't that your motto?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n Or did you steal it from your\",\n \"\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n Or did you steal it from your old friend\\n Renard?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n ...what?\\n\\n BOND\\n We had a run-in, he and I. He knew about\\n us, he knew about my shoulder, he knew\\n exactly where to hurt me...\\n\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the\",\n \"ovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\\n further, staring at Bond...\\n\\n A look passes between the two men. Comrades in arms. The\\n merest of smiles. Then the light fades from his eyes. Dead.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n\\n turns back to Bond. Smiles.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Excuse me.\\n\\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:\",\n \"wants to kill me, I'd rather die\\n looking him straight in the eye.\\n (lightly)\\n What are you doing here? Looking for a\\n woman a little more your type? How about\\n that one?\\n\\n She points to a SHOW GIRL in a feather headdress and pasties.\\n\\n BOND\\n If this little show is for my benefit,\\n I'll take you home right now.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You had your chance, James. Now I'm\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n They were digging near here and they\\n found some very pretty vases. They also\\n found this...\\n (meaning the garotte)\\n I think we ignore the old ways at our\\n peril, don't you?\\n\\n Bond recoils as she fastens the collar... She steps back.\\n\\n BOND\\n (ignoring her)\\n Where's M?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\\n\\n Bond\",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n He's struck again.\\n (beat)\\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\\n\\n He moves toward her.\\n\\n BOND\\n I'm coming with you.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You do what you have to do, but I've\\n called in M. She's en route from London\\n even now.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\\n\\n\",\n \".\\n\\n BOND\\n I'm sorry.\\n\\n WOMAN\\n He died before he could complete his\\n lifelong dream.\\n (beat)\\n I intend to finish it for him.\\n\\n A voice interrupts them, calling from the estate...\\n\\n OLDER MAN\\n Elektra!\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Excuse me.\\n\\n She walks away, the wind pressing her dress against her\\n delicate figure. She looks brave and vulnerable as she walks\\n \",\n \"and then...\\n\\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\\n\\n She listens, a long time, to the silence.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Gabor...?\\n\\n She goes to the door, opens it...it whines on its hinges.\\n She steps into...\\n\\n INT. LIBRARY\\n\\n A big room lined with books. Three french doors lead out to a\\n balcony. She walks a few paces in...\\n\\n THE DOOR SH\",\n \"me.\\n\\n She walks away, the wind pressing her dress against her\\n delicate figure. She looks brave and vulnerable as she walks\\n back toward her father's grand house.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n INT. LIMOUSINE - TRAVELING - DAY\\n\\n M, Bond and Tanner in the rear of a limousine. The vehicle\\n swoops through the epic countryside of the Scottish\\n Highlands.\\n\\n M\\n Elektra? Running King Industries?\\n (she bro\",\n \"ved window.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\\n\\n Bond ignores her.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I could have given you the world.\\n\\n BOND\\n Not interested.\\n\\n This cuts. She casually reaches behind his neck, flips up a\\n wooden arm to which is attached a metal collar. A GAROTTE.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n They were digging near here and they\\n found some very pretty vases. They also\\n \",\n \"elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room.\\n\\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You're hurting me.\\n\\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\\n hide it.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Brought me something?\\n\\n He smiles, gr\",\n \" They're\\n following a huge pipeline, passing a blighted petrified\\n forest of twisted iron: derelict oil derricks.\\n\\n Elektra gestures at the oil fields they're now leaving\\n behind. Receding into the distance, a DELTA OF ROADWAYS\\n perched on rusting stilts juts out into the sea.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n My mother's people discovered oil here\\n ninety years ago. The Bolsheviks\\n slaughtered them for it.\",\n \"KTRA\\n ...You can feel this?\\n\\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\\n open, enjoying the sensation. A beat, then his smile slowly\\n grows. As she does something else.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (sensual)\\n Remember ... pleasure?\\n\\n DISSOLVE:\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DEAD OF NIGHT\\n\\n Eerily quiet. The calm before the storm, except:\\n\\n INT. M\",\n \"And he makes an\\n excellent omelette.\\n\\n BOND\\n How long has he been with you?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Since the kidnapping. Why do you ask?\\n\\n Bond takes something out of his pocket, he opens his palm,\\n shows it to her.\\n\\n BOND\\n Does this look familiar to you?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\\n of his life.\\n\\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\\n trying to kill me?\\n\\n BOND\\n You can drop the act, it's over.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I don't know what you're talking about!\\n\\n BOND\\n I think you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd\",\n \"\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n Or did you steal it from your old friend\\n Renard?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n ...what?\\n\\n BOND\\n We had a run-in, he and I. He knew about\\n us, he knew about my shoulder, he knew\\n exactly where to hurt me...\\n\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the\",\n \"?\\n\\n He nods. He is wound tight, she senses it.\\n\\n BOND\\n I can't stay.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I know.\\n\\n A moment.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I need to ask you something. And I need\\n you to tell me the truth.\\n\\n He waits.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Who is it? Who is trying to kill me?\\n\\n Bond looks at her; vulnerable, fragile, trying to be strong.\",\n \"is that it? You had a sling on your\\n arm at the funeral! I didn't have to\\n sleep with you to find that out.\\n\\n BOND\\n He used your exact words.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You knew. You knew all the time, that he\\n was out there, that he was coming for me,\\n and you lied. You used me, you used me as\\n bait. You made love to me -- what, to\\n pass the time as you waited for him to\\n strike?\\n\",\n \"ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\\n dead? It's what you wanted.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (beat)\\n Of course...\\n\\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\\n\\n RENARD\\n He was a...good lover?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\",\n \"KTRA\\n ...You can feel this?\\n\\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\\n open, enjoying the sensation. A beat, then his smile slowly\\n grows. As she does something else.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (sensual)\\n Remember ... pleasure?\\n\\n DISSOLVE:\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DEAD OF NIGHT\\n\\n Eerily quiet. The calm before the storm, except:\\n\\n INT. M\",\n \"\\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\\n HER POV:\\n\\n Big, battered and bloody, Valentin Zukovsky is leaving a\\n boat, moving over the rocks toward the entrance with three of\\n his men. Two bodies in his trail. He's on course for\\n Elektra and nothing is going to stop him, even as his\\n henchmen are cut down by feroc\",\n \"TRA\\n Who is it? Who is trying to kill me?\\n\\n Bond looks at her; vulnerable, fragile, trying to be strong.\\n He cannot tell her the truth.\\n\\n BOND\\n I don't know. But I will find him.\\n\\n She stares at him, sensing he is withholding something. She\\n turns back to the window.\\n\\n He approaches behind her.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n After the kidnapping...I was afraid to go\\n outside, to be alone, to be in\",\n \"And he makes an\\n excellent omelette.\\n\\n BOND\\n How long has he been with you?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Since the kidnapping. Why do you ask?\\n\\n Bond takes something out of his pocket, he opens his palm,\\n shows it to her.\\n\\n BOND\\n Does this look familiar to you?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\\n of his life.\\n\\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in\",\n \" The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Since I was a child, I've always had a\\n power over men. When I realized my father\\n wouldn't rescue me from the kidnappers, I\\n knew I had to form a new alliance.\\n\\n BOND\\n (realizing)\\n You turned Renard.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (smiling)\\n Just like you...\",\n \" A moment's\\n dilemma: should he race below to the sub -- or up to\\n Elektra?\\n\\n He takes off after Elektra, grabs the radio handset.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE - SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - DAY\\n\\n The submarine's engines roar to life.\\n\\n INT. TOWER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n ELEKTRA rises up one of the triple\",\n \"He holds her gaze for a long time before he looks away.\\n\\n BOND\\n I can't afford to.\\n\\n She frowns, slightly. Settles into his chest.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Don't worry. I know who you are.\\n\\n He holds her, eyes full of conflict, staring into the dark.\\n\\n EXT. VILLA - NIGHT - LATER\\n\\n The lights of a car pulling up at the security office by the\\n perimeter wall of the property.\\n\\n\",\n \" She picks it up, walks to him (surreptitiously sliding a gun\\n beneath it). She proffers the hat...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What a shame. You just missed him.\\n\\n BLAM BLAM BLAM -- she fires through the hat.\\n\\n He staggers back. Stares. Slumps down. Lowers his head to\\n the ground.\\n\\n She walks over, puts her heel on his gun arm, presses down,\\n smiling a half-psychotic smile. \",\n \"TRA\\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\\n\\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gazing out\\n at this spectacular cradle of civilization. Bond works his\\n wristbinds feverishly.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It runs in my veins, thicker than blood.\\n I'm going to redraw the map.\\n And when I am through the whole world\\n will know my name, my grandfather's name,\\n the glory of my people.\\n\\n B\",\n \"ovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\\n further, staring at Bond...\\n\\n A look passes between the two men. Comrades in arms. The\\n merest of smiles. Then the light fades from his eyes. Dead.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n\\n turns back to Bond. Smiles.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Excuse me.\\n\\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:\",\n \"if they're coming for\\n you, if anyone will ever come for you.\\n\\n M\\n Someone will come.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Who? Bond? Bond is dead.\\n\\n Elektra walks to the window. She looks out.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Somehow, I find that strangely\\n ...disappointing.\\n\\n M watches her, her heart beating.\\n\\n M\\n Elektra. What time is it?\\n\\n Elektra picks up the little clock\",\n \"ays no fear. A quiet defiance burns in her.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Just as I promised.\\n\\n Renard steps forward. Bars separate him from M.\\n\\n RENARD\\n My executioner.\\n\\n M\\n Over-praise, I'm afraid. But my people\\n will finish the job.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Your people? Your people will leave you\\n here to rot just like you left me. You\\n and my father. He didn't think my\",\n \" It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\\n of his life.\\n\\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in his eyes, with a sad half-\\n smile that unsettles him.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you trying to break my heart? Or is\\n it just your way with women?\\n\\n BOND\\n It's not the pin your father wore. It's\\n an exact duplicate. Inside is a tiny\\n electrical detonator. We have reason to\\n believe the assassin had\",\n \"KTRA\\n You are wrong, Mr. Bond. In fact, I am\\n the only person who can do it.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. JEEP, TRAVELING - OILFIELDS - DAY\\n\\n Elektra drives the all-terrain jeep with casual assurance.\\n Bond is beside her, cold-weather gear in the back. They're\\n following a huge pipeline, passing a blighted petrified\\n forest of twisted iron: derelict oil d\",\n \"me as\\n bait. You made love to me -- what, to\\n pass the time as you waited for him to\\n strike?\\n\\n He has no answer. He can't deny what she says.\\n\\n The phone rings, cuts through the tension. Bond and Elektra\\n staring at one another. She lets it ring... Then picks up.\\n Listens, looks to Bond.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n He's struck again.\\n (beat)\\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \".\\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\\n of coffee.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to Foreman)\\n ...they should have been in place two\\n days ago. That is the target my father\\n set.\\n\\n FOREMAN\\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\\n\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n They were digging near here and they\\n found some very pretty vases. They also\\n found this...\\n (meaning the garotte)\\n I think we ignore the old ways at our\\n peril, don't you?\\n\\n Bond recoils as she fastens the collar... She steps back.\\n\\n BOND\\n (ignoring her)\\n Where's M?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\\n\\n Bond\",\n \"elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room.\\n\\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You're hurting me.\\n\\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\\n hide it.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Brought me something?\\n\\n He smiles, gr\",\n \"ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\\n dead? It's what you wanted.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (beat)\\n Of course...\\n\\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\\n\\n RENARD\\n He was a...good lover?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\",\n \"\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\\n trying to kill me?\\n\\n BOND\\n You can drop the act, it's over.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I don't know what you're talking about!\\n\\n BOND\\n I think you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd\",\n \"\\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\\n\\n BOND\\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\\n what's the point of living if you can't\\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\\n Isn't that your motto?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n Or did you steal it from your\",\n \"ive falls in love\\n with her captor.\\n\\n At the word \\\"love,\\\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\\n unsuspecting Bond hard across the face.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n How dare you! How dare you! That\\n animal!? That monster!? He disgusts me!\\n You disgust me! So he knew where to hurt\\n you, is that it? You had a sling on your\\n arm at the funeral! I didn't have to\\n sleep with you to find that\",\n \"ved window.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\\n\\n Bond ignores her.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I could have given you the world.\\n\\n BOND\\n Not interested.\\n\\n This cuts. She casually reaches behind his neck, flips up a\\n wooden arm to which is attached a metal collar. A GAROTTE.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n They were digging near here and they\\n found some very pretty vases. They also\\n \",\n \"ELEKTRA\\n Would you excuse us, Davidov?\\n\\n Davidov nods and leaves. Elektra still keeps her back turned,\\n but he can see her physically change, her shoulders sag, her\\n arms cross in front of her. When she finds her voice, it has\\n a gravelly sound of emotion.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I met you at my father's funeral.\\n\\n BOND\\n Yes.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I haven't been able to recall a single\\n \",\n \"?\\n\\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\\n Tormented.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n Now she runs the ice down her neck...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n But surely...\\n\\n ...her fingers becoming wet, she runs the ice down between\\n her breasts, leaving a trail. Teasing...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n ...You can feel this?\\n\\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\\n open, enjoying\",\n \"and then...\\n\\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\\n\\n She listens, a long time, to the silence.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Gabor...?\\n\\n She goes to the door, opens it...it whines on its hinges.\\n She steps into...\\n\\n INT. LIBRARY\\n\\n A big room lined with books. Three french doors lead out to a\\n balcony. She walks a few paces in...\\n\\n THE DOOR SH\",\n \"wants to kill me, I'd rather die\\n looking him straight in the eye.\\n (lightly)\\n What are you doing here? Looking for a\\n woman a little more your type? How about\\n that one?\\n\\n She points to a SHOW GIRL in a feather headdress and pasties.\\n\\n BOND\\n If this little show is for my benefit,\\n I'll take you home right now.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You had your chance, James. Now I'm\\n \",\n \"back.\\n\\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\\n\\n M\\n She's insane. Is that what you did to\\n her?\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I'm afraid it is what you did.\\n\\n He crosses close to the bars.\\n\\n RENARD\\n When I took her she was...promise itself.\\n So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\\n force. And you left her there, at the\\n mercy of a man like me\",\n \"you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Syndrome.\\n It's common in kidnappings. A young\\n impressionable victim. Sheltered,\\n sexually inexperienced. A powerful\\n kidnapper skilled in torture, in\\n manipulation. Something snaps in the\\n victim's mind. The captive falls in love\\n with her captor.\\n\\n At the word \\\"love,\\\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\",\n \"BAKU - DAY\\n\\n Elektra works in her father's STUDY, illuminated by a halo of\\n light from a single desk lamp. Pictures of her grandfather\\n and father stare down at her from the walls. The wind BLOWS A\\n WINDOW open.\\n\\n She gets up, crosses the room, shutting the window. She\\n stands there, listening to the silence and then...\\n\\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\\n\\n She listens, a\",\n \"ovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\\n further, staring at Bond...\\n\\n A look passes between the two men. Comrades in arms. The\\n merest of smiles. Then the light fades from his eyes. Dead.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n\\n turns back to Bond. Smiles.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Excuse me.\\n\\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:\",\n \"it myself.\\n\\n She turns the screw again.\\n\\n BOND\\n So you killed your father.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n He killed me! He killed me the day he\\n refused to pay my ransom.\\n\\n A flicker of emotion. Bond is getting to her.\\n\\n BOND\\n Was this all about the oil?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\\n\\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gaz\",\n \"\\n She traces a finger along the metal. A flicker of wonder:\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Warm.\\n\\n RENARD\\n (pointed)\\n Is it?\\n\\n She's sensitive to his buried frustration:\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I've brought something for you as well.\\n\\n INT. ROOM - MAIDEN'S TOWER - MOMENTS LATER\\n\\n Elektra opens a heavy door, she and Renard past through to...\\n\\n A SM\",\n \"\\n hand.\\n\\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n Elektra comes to him. Leads him to the bed. Sits. Gently\\n removes the splinter. Then, she takes an icecube from the\\n bucket. Runs it along his wound.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What about this?\\n\\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\\n Tormented.\\n\\n REN\",\n \"Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\\n carved chair, covered in silk.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to guards)\\n Take her to Renard.\\n\\n Bond and Christmas exchange a look as the guards start her\\n towards some steps.\\n\\n Elektra indicates for him to sit. Behind him, the whole of\\n Istanbul is visible through a large curved window.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\\n\\n Bond ignores her.\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \".\\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\\n of coffee.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to Foreman)\\n ...they should have been in place two\\n days ago. That is the target my father\\n set.\\n\\n FOREMAN\\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\\n\\n \",\n \"it myself.\\n\\n She turns the screw again.\\n\\n BOND\\n So you killed your father.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n He killed me! He killed me the day he\\n refused to pay my ransom.\\n\\n A flicker of emotion. Bond is getting to her.\\n\\n BOND\\n Was this all about the oil?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\\n\\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gaz\",\n \"Your people? Your people will leave you\\n here to rot just like you left me. You\\n and my father. He didn't think my life\\n was worth the chump change he spent on a\\n day at the stock market.\\n\\n M\\n Your father...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Is nothing. His kingdom he stole from my\\n mother. The kingdom I will rightly take\\n back.\\n\\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\\n\\n M\\n She's insane. \",\n \"ELEKTRA\\n Would you excuse us, Davidov?\\n\\n Davidov nods and leaves. Elektra still keeps her back turned,\\n but he can see her physically change, her shoulders sag, her\\n arms cross in front of her. When she finds her voice, it has\\n a gravelly sound of emotion.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I met you at my father's funeral.\\n\\n BOND\\n Yes.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I haven't been able to recall a single\\n \",\n \"(realizing)\\n You turned Renard.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (smiling)\\n Just like you...only you were even\\n easier.\\n\\n She pulls the jewel from her ear, reveals the ugly scar:\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I told him he had to hurt me, he had to\\n make it look real. When he refused I told\\n him I would do it myself.\\n\\n She turns the screw again.\\n\\n BOND\\n So you killed your father.\\n\\n E\",\n \"ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\\n dead? It's what you wanted.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (beat)\\n Of course...\\n\\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\\n\\n RENARD\\n He was a...good lover?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\",\n \"ays no fear. A quiet defiance burns in her.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Just as I promised.\\n\\n Renard steps forward. Bars separate him from M.\\n\\n RENARD\\n My executioner.\\n\\n M\\n Over-praise, I'm afraid. But my people\\n will finish the job.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Your people? Your people will leave you\\n here to rot just like you left me. You\\n and my father. He didn't think my\",\n \"\\n BOND\\n Yes.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I haven't been able to recall a single\\n moment of that day...until now.\\n\\n BOND\\n Funerals aren't exactly memorable.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n God no. All those horrible loved ones and\\n relatives. I don't want to talk to those\\n people. I just want to...talk to my\\n father.\\n (beat)\\n I loved him. I'm not sure he knew that.\",\n \"\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\\n trying to kill me?\\n\\n BOND\\n You can drop the act, it's over.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I don't know what you're talking about!\\n\\n BOND\\n I think you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd\",\n \" It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\\n of his life.\\n\\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in his eyes, with a sad half-\\n smile that unsettles him.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you trying to break my heart? Or is\\n it just your way with women?\\n\\n BOND\\n It's not the pin your father wore. It's\\n an exact duplicate. Inside is a tiny\\n electrical detonator. We have reason to\\n believe the assassin had\",\n \"\\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\\n\\n BOND\\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\\n what's the point of living if you can't\\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\\n Isn't that your motto?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n Or did you steal it from your\",\n \"And he makes an\\n excellent omelette.\\n\\n BOND\\n How long has he been with you?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Since the kidnapping. Why do you ask?\\n\\n Bond takes something out of his pocket, he opens his palm,\\n shows it to her.\\n\\n BOND\\n Does this look familiar to you?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\\n of his life.\\n\\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in\",\n \"ive falls in love\\n with her captor.\\n\\n At the word \\\"love,\\\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\\n unsuspecting Bond hard across the face.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n How dare you! How dare you! That\\n animal!? That monster!? He disgusts me!\\n You disgust me! So he knew where to hurt\\n you, is that it? You had a sling on your\\n arm at the funeral! I didn't have to\\n sleep with you to find that\",\n \"want to...talk to my\\n father.\\n (beat)\\n I loved him. I'm not sure he knew that.\\n\\n BOND\\n Is that why you want to finish the\\n pipeline?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Partially, yes.\\n\\n Her muscleman BODY GUARD appears, says briefly:\\n\\n GABOR\\n The jeep is ready, Ma'am. Will I be\\n driving with you?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n No, Gabor\",\n \"wants to kill me, I'd rather die\\n looking him straight in the eye.\\n (lightly)\\n What are you doing here? Looking for a\\n woman a little more your type? How about\\n that one?\\n\\n She points to a SHOW GIRL in a feather headdress and pasties.\\n\\n BOND\\n If this little show is for my benefit,\\n I'll take you home right now.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You had your chance, James. Now I'm\\n \",\n \", her heart beating.\\n\\n M\\n Elektra. What time is it?\\n\\n Elektra picks up the little clock. Walks over to the cell\\n bars.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Time for you to die.\\n\\n And she reaches through the bars and HANDS M THE CLOCK.\\n\\n The two women's eyes meet.\\n\\n RENARD\\n The reactor is secured.\\n\\n She turns, sees RENARD in the doorway. She crosses to him\\n and SLAM\",\n \"So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\\n force. And you left her there, at the\\n mercy of a man like me. You ruined her.\\n For what? To get to me? She is worth\\n fifty of me.\\n\\n M\\n For once, I agree with you.\\n\\n He shakes his head, amused by her pluck.\\n\\n M\\n So she used all that brilliance to get\\n revenge on her father, on me.\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I wanted you\",\n \"elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room.\\n\\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You're hurting me.\\n\\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\\n hide it.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Brought me something?\\n\\n He smiles, gr\",\n \"belonged to my father. He would have\\n wanted you to have it.\\n\\n M feels uneasy.\\n\\n M\\n Perhaps this isn't the time...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Please.\\n\\n She hands M a small box. M unties the ribbon.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n He often spoke of how...compassionately\\n you advised him on the best course of\\n action during my kidnapping.\\n\\n M opens the box. It is THE EYE OF THE GLENS...the he\",\n \"\\n\\n She walks over, puts her heel on his gun arm, presses down,\\n smiling a half-psychotic smile. The gun is pinned.\\n\\n Zukovsky is dying.\\n\\n But he dredges up every last ounce of energy to raise his gun\\n a millimetre off the ground, his outstretched arm already\\n pointing at Bond. Elektra looks surprised, then amused as\\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\\n to shoot Bond!\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \" An inner door stops it getting into the\\n submarine itself.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Renard slowly inserts the plutonium rod. Immediately the\\n light around him becomes a deeper blue, a horrible\\n luminescence. The staccato click of a distant Geiger counter\\n intensifies.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n As Bond opens the inner door of an ESCAPE HATCH, he points\\n out\",\n \"The scream, like a wounded animal, echoes throughout the\\n doomed craft.\\n\\n BACK ON RENARD, gasping, spent.\\n\\n RENARD\\n You will die for this.\\n\\n He strides through to the\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER\\n\\n Jams shut the hatch behind him. Now moves through to the\\n\\n INT. CHAMBER BEYOND REACTOR\\n\\n Where he picks up the PLUTONIUM. Moves back into the\\n\\n INT. REACTOR\",\n \" Everything not screwed\\n down starts sliding...\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS - LONG SHOT\\n\\n The submarine is tilting, further and further, the nose\\n dropping down and down...\\n\\n Pretty soon we have the strange and incredible sight of a\\n submarine hanging vertically, nose down.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER, SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Renard hangs on, swings, until he can get a footing on the\\n nearest\",\n \"picks it up and PUTS IT ON HIS HEAD.\\n\\n RENARD\\n We'll be underway in two hours. Use that\\n time to re-familiarize yourselves with\\n your stations. Then ponder how rich\\n you'll be. The re-breathers for the\\n escape are already on board.\\n\\n A man appears holding a heavy lead box containing the\\n plutonium. Renard takes the box as if it weighs nothing.\\n Stronger then ever.\\n\\n C\",\n \"\\n Nuclear.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Not just nuclear. Powered by a nuclear\\n reactor.\\n (the penny drops)\\n He's not loading any cargo. They want the\\n sub. The sub itself.\\n Put weapons grade plutonium inside the\\n sub's reactor: Instant, catastrophic\\n meltdown.\\n\\n BOND\\n Made to look just like an accident.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Mother of God.\\n\\n \",\n \"Tanks open.\\n\\n But the man has stretched his hand to a fire alarm:\\n\\n The KLAXON RESOUNDS.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE CONTROL ROOM - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Renard looks up.\\n\\n RENARD\\n (to self)\\n Bond...\\n\\n He flicks a switch;\\n\\n RENARD\\n (into mic)\\n Bond! You have decided to join me on this\\n historic voyage. Welcome to my nuclear\\n family\",\n \"OND REACTOR\\n\\n Where he picks up the PLUTONIUM. Moves back into the\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER\\n\\n Sealing the other door behind him. And now he opens up the\\n cover of the glaring REACTOR...\\n\\n INT. TANK CONTROLS ROOM, SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Christmas sees a panel light up:\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n The cover is off the reactor.\\n\\n Bond reads off more lights...\\n\",\n \"\\n (into mic)\\n Bond! You have decided to join me on this\\n historic voyage. Welcome to my nuclear\\n family.\\n\\n INTERCUT:\\n\\n BOND ON AN INTERCOM:\\n\\n His voice fills the control room.\\n\\n BOND\\n You're really going to commit suicide for\\n her?\\n\\n Renard responds, into the microphone.\\n\\n RENARD\\n In case you've forgotten. I'm dead\\n already.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n THE GAUGE IS PASSING 4900, EDGING TOWARDS THE NO-WAY-BACK\\n 5000 MARK. Meltdown imminent...\\n\\n He looks down the sub -- more water racing upward...\\n\\n Back to the pile. Scans the scene, searching for an idea.\\n Sees a HOSE, compressed air escaping from a fissure. Thinks\\n fast. Grabs the hose,\",\n \"you ride?\\n\\n BOND\\n Just wanted to put him on edge...\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER, SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Renard is disturbed by the sub's position, but only\\n momentarily.\\n\\n He moves to an intercom:\\n\\n RENARD\\n Open the torpedo tubes.\\n\\n INT. TORPEDO ROOM - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bond hears a creak, turns to see the tubes open --\",\n \"\\n BOND\\n Keep moving.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Renard now struggles back up to the reactor, stares into the\\n violet blue heat...\\n\\n He hits a button. A ROD slowly rises out of the reactor.\\n\\n INT. LOWER SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bond and Christmas are ahead of the water. They have reached\\n a level where various systems are operated from.\\n\\n BOND\\n\",\n \"him, is flung back, nearly falls through\\n the hatch but manages to grab a pipe, hangs on for dear life.\\n\\n THE GAUGE HITS 4700\\n\\n\\n BOND AND RENARD\\n\\n struggle... Both slamming into switches and buttons.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n OMITTED 314-316\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n THE GAUGE IS PASSING 4900\",\n \"microphone.\\n\\n RENARD\\n In case you've forgotten. I'm dead\\n already.\\n\\n BOND\\n Haven't you heard the news? So is she.\\n\\n Renard's face screws up in pain more searing than any he\\n could feel in his skin...he SCREAMS...\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE...\\n\\n The scream, like a wounded animal, echoes throughout the\\n doomed craft.\\n\\n BACK ON RENARD, gasping, spent\",\n \"Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\\n The hatch closes.\\n\\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here. Bond looks down at\\n the sealed door of the reactor chamber, curses.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bathed in the horrible light of the over-heating reactor,\\n Renard looks upwards, aware of sounds on the other side of\\n the door...\\n\\n KER-BLAM! A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT.\",\n \" RENARD scans the water with night-vision binoculars.\\n\\n EXT. BOSPHORUS - NIGHT - HIS GREEN POV:\\n\\n A SUPERTANKER churns along...\\n\\n ADJUST ANGLE\\n\\n The CAMERA SINKS BENEATH THE WAVES, steals through the gloom -\\n - eventually comes upon something sitting just beneath the\\n belly of the tanker. The silhouette of a SUBMARINE, hugging\\n the tanker'\",\n \" Sees a HOSE, compressed air escaping from a fissure. Thinks\\n fast. Grabs the hose, snaps it free...\\n\\n RENARD\\n\\n is recovering, has found a FLARE GUN near him. Raises it to\\n Bond...\\n\\n BOND'S POV\\n\\n in the reflection of the gauge (which is millimeters from\\n 5000), we see Renard approaching from behind us...\\n\\n BOND jams the hose into the reactor, d\",\n \" To the room:\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n I'm looking for a submarine. It's big\\n and black, and the driver is a friend of\\n mine.\\n\\n Then his eye falls on the HAT Renard had brought up from\\n below. He knows at once what it means.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Bring it to me.\\n\\n She picks it up, walks to him (surreptitiously sliding a gun\\n beneath it). She proffers the hat...\\n\",\n \"Heavy doors close all exits but that to the tunnel.\\n\\n INT. THE PIT\\n\\n Bond and Christmas know they are being sealed in.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Melt-down doors. If he gets them closed,\\n they won't be opened again for forty-\\n eight years.\\n\\n Bond peers over the edge -- sees Renard and his men working\\n the nuclear device into THE PASSAGEWAY.\\n\\n INT. THE PIT\\n\\n If Bond doesn't get through now, they're trapped forever.\",\n \"the butt of his gun.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE CONTROL ROOM - MOMENTS LATER\\n\\n Several men occupy the central control room, Renard at their\\n centre. Beyond, on the other side, the outer chamber of the\\n reactor.\\n\\n INT. OTHER END OF CONTROL ROOM - SUBMARINE - DAY\\n\\n From the other end of the control room, Bond and Christmas,\\n so near and yet so far -- they can't get to the reactor\\n because there are so many\",\n \"TINUOUS\\n\\n Bond down below. Renard's crew are spread throughout the sub.\\n He creeps through...\\n\\n Approaches one man working some levers, smoking. Bond holds\\n his gun to his head.\\n\\n BOND\\n How do you want to die?\\n (re: cigarette)\\n That?\\n (re: gun)\\n Or this?\\n\\n INT. CABIN, SUBMARINE - MOMENTS LATER\\n\\n A few SOLID B\"\n ],\n [\n \". Then, he comes\\n to notice a figure, across the expanse of the pit, on the\\n opposite side of the catwalk, a man, with his back to him, in\\n Russian Army fatigues.\\n\\n BOND\\n Corporal?\\n\\n The man turns...\\n\\n IT IS RENARD.\\n\\n He smiles.\\n\\n RENARD\\n I see my friend Davidov ran into some\\n difficulty.\\n\\n BOND\\n Indeed.\\n\\n Renard starts toward him. Bond draws\",\n \"Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\\n The hatch closes.\\n\\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here. Bond looks down at\\n the sealed door of the reactor chamber, curses.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bathed in the horrible light of the over-heating reactor,\\n Renard looks upwards, aware of sounds on the other side of\\n the door...\\n\\n KER-BLAM! A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT.\",\n \"ony. He shoves Bond down. Bond's hand goes to his\\n shoulder, his mind now racing -- how did he know to hurt him\\n there?\\n\\n Renard's men start to maneuver the bomb toward the curving\\n passageway. It's all too much for Colonel Akakievich:\\n\\n COLONEL AKAKIEVICH\\n No -- the bomb does not go anywhere until\\n I am satisfied. All of you to the\\n surface, now...\\n\\n Renard stops and turns. Bond\",\n \". PASSAGEWAY\\n\\n WITH BOND as the bullets cease with a loud CLICK... What\\n Bond was waiting for. He moves. The gunman frozen in the\\n light, grappling to fit another clip --\\n\\n BLAM! He goes down. Bond not wasting bullets.\\n\\n INT. OTHER END OF PASSAGEWAY\\n\\n Renard is loading the bomb it into the ELEVATOR. He flicks a\\n switch on the panel by the elevator. The IRIS starts closing\\n on Bond\",\n \"\\n RENARD\\n It's I who should thank you -- for taking\\n that money back to MI-6. So distressing\\n for M. An explosion inside her lair.\\n\\n BOND\\n She'll get over it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n You even brought the plane for us. We\\n really couldn't have done it without you.\\n\\n Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\\n blood\",\n \"\\n RENARD\\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\\n get on my knees and pray for it. You, on\\n the other hand, you have something to\\n live for, no?\\n (closer now)\\n She's beautiful isn't she? You should\\n have seen her before. Flawless, and still\\n so innocent, not such a whore in bed...\\n\\n Bond's eyes flare in fury. He shoves Renard into the wall\\n and presses the gun to his\",\n \"He looks out at the long stretch of pipeline, like a deadly\\n snake with the world for its bed.\\n\\n BOND\\n I know I promised you champagne, but\\n would you settle for caviar?\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - ISTANBUL - TWILIGHT\\n\\n A boat puts in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\\n\\n Renard disemb\",\n \"VES IT INTO THE IRIS DOOR just as it almost closes...\\n\\n Bond squeezes through...\\n\\n INT. OTHER SIDE OF IRIS\\n\\n Renard is getting in the ELEVATOR. Sees Bond made it, fires.\\n Bond rolls into a corner.\\n\\n RENARD\\n We have our fireworks. Now you can have\\n yours.\\n\\n And he machine-guns some barrels. Rocket fuel spills out.\\n He digs a finger into one of the holes, effortlessly ri\",\n \"WAY - RENARD'S END\\n\\n The other guy answers with another spray of bullets. Watches\\n uneasily as Bond takes out light after light. A funnel of\\n darkness coming to swallow him -- concealing Bond's approach.\\n Nervous, he fires, muzzle flash and sparks illuminating the\\n void. To keep it lit, he keeps firing...\\n\\n INT. PASSAGEWAY\\n\\n WITH BOND as the bullets cease with a loud CLICK... What\\n Bond was waiting for\",\n \"GIRL\\n James Bond.\\n\\n RENARD\\n One of M's more accomplished tin\\n soldiers.\\n\\n CIGAR GIRL\\n He could identify me.\\n\\n RENARD\\n If it concerns you...kill him.\\n\\n He touches her cheek and moves into the room, pouring two\\n glasses of wine.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Let's toast this James Bond. We're in\\n his hands now...\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT\",\n \" 5000), we see Renard approaching from behind us...\\n\\n BOND jams the hose into the reactor, ducks down -- as the air\\n blows the rod out - narrowly missing him as it shoots past --\\n impales Renard in the heart, just before he could shoot.\\n\\n Renard stares at Bond in horror. Bond calmly takes the flare\\n gun off him.\\n\\n BOND\\n She's waiting for you.\\n\\n And he lets him fall past Christmas, through consecutive open\",\n \"the hand, they move through the shadows of\\n the sub.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - MOMENTS LATER\\n\\n A man is operating the tanks. Through the intercom:\\n\\n RENARD\\n (filtered)\\n Flood tanks 4 and 5...\\n\\n The man does as told. When he's finished -- Bond knocks him\\n out with the butt of his gun.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE CONTROL ROOM - MOMENTS LATER\\n\\n Several\",\n \"INE LOWER DECK - MOMENTS LATER\\n\\n Bond and Christmas get attacked. A vicious, silent fight...\\n Then the radio set sparks into life --\\n\\n RENARD\\n Open the tanks.\\n\\n Bond is throttling the man with the cable. Speaks into the\\n handset.\\n\\n BOND\\n (disguising voice)\\n Tanks open.\\n\\n But the man has stretched his hand to a fire alarm:\\n\\n The KLAXON RESOUNDS.\",\n \" AT THE ELEVATOR\\n\\n Bond fires at Renard, hitting his shin...\\n\\n WITH RENARD\\n\\n looking down at his shin, noticing the blood. Inconvenienced\\n but not in pain. He shuts the cage doors. Pauses only to\\n fire off half a clip at the SWITCH PANEL. Shreds it.\\n\\n Bond leaps to his feet, racing forward, firing -- gets to the\\n elevator as Renard disappears upwards with a smile. He POINTS\\n\",\n \"onto a nearby walkway. The men\\n make their way toward the factory, firing at the guards.\\n Zukovsky and Christmas are forced inside.\\n\\n ANGLE ON BOND\\n\\n Who sees the danger to the others and runs off along the\\n walkways back to the factory. The Chopper follows him,\\n shooting.\\n\\n Bond outruns it, until, ahead of him A GRENADE EXPLODES,\\n destroying the walkway and hurling Bond into the water.\\n\\n EXT. FACT\",\n \" it...the man slips it into his pocket.\\n\\n BOND\\n Revenge isn't so hard to fathom. What's\\n clever is getting someone else to pay for\\n it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Not many people in this world have that\\n kind of fortune.\\n\\n Bond cocks the pistol.\\n\\n BOND\\n Who is it?\\n\\n RENARD\\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\\n get on my knees and pray for it. You,\",\n \"to dust -- Bond\\n dives to a recess. An overhead LIGHT SHATTERS. His section\\n of the tunnel darkens.\\n\\n INT. PASSAGEWAY - BOND'S END\\n\\n Bond looks up at the broken LIGHT. Takes careful aim at the\\n next one along. BLAM. It disintegrates. Again...\\n\\n INT. PASSAGEWAY - RENARD'S END\\n\\n The other guy answers with another spray of bullets. Watches\\n uneasily as Bond\",\n \"The chauffeur is shot and killed. The gunmen then turn their\\n attention to Zukovsky and Christmas, when suddenly BOND\\n APPEARS through a trap door in the floor boards.\\n\\n Bond shoots one of the gunmen, then fires on the other...\\n Zukovsky grabs Christmas and they make their escape Bond\\n sees a third gunman firing from the basement and takes him\\n out.\\n\\n EXT. WALKWAYS - SAME\\n\\n Zukovsky and Christmas make a dash for Z\",\n \"abs a ladder, pulls\\n himself up.\\n\\n The hatch is closing... He splashes through the water\\n flooding over the sub, appears in front of the amazed sailor\\n shutting the hatch. WHACKS him with the hatch. Gets inside.\\n Closes it. Milliseconds before the hatch slides under the\\n water.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bond down below. Renard's crew are spread throughout the sub.\\n He creeps through...\\n\\n\",\n \"to RAPPEL UP THE SIDES OF THE\\n PIT and into\\n\\n INT. TEST CHAMBER\\n\\n Where he LEAPS ON TOP OF Renard's last man. They fall\\n THROUGH THE IRIS, it SHUTS behind them. The man swings his\\n machine gun at Bond -- it hits the wall next to him, breaks\\n apart. Bond grabs a broken section and kills him with one\\n strike.\\n\\n He pauses at his dead body and reaches into his jacket,\\n retrieving\"\n ],\n [\n \"ignoring her)\\n Where's M?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\\n\\n Bond keeps his cool:\\n\\n BOND\\n All this, because you fell for Renard?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Five more turns and your neck will break.\\n\\n She moves to the back of the chair, twists the screw ONE\\n NOTCH. The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\\n\\n \",\n \"BOND\\n Elektra, it's not too late. Eight\\n million people needn't die.\\n\\n She smiles, twists the screw again. A nasty, grinding sound.\\n Sweat trickles from his brow. She licks it away.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You should have killed me when you had\\n the chance. But you couldn't. Not me. A\\n woman you've loved.\\n\\n She pushes her hips into his. Turns the screw. The bolt\",\n \"\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\\n trying to kill me?\\n\\n BOND\\n You can drop the act, it's over.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I don't know what you're talking about!\\n\\n BOND\\n I think you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd\",\n \"ive falls in love\\n with her captor.\\n\\n At the word \\\"love,\\\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\\n unsuspecting Bond hard across the face.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n How dare you! How dare you! That\\n animal!? That monster!? He disgusts me!\\n You disgust me! So he knew where to hurt\\n you, is that it? You had a sling on your\\n arm at the funeral! I didn't have to\\n sleep with you to find that\",\n \"ved window.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\\n\\n Bond ignores her.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I could have given you the world.\\n\\n BOND\\n Not interested.\\n\\n This cuts. She casually reaches behind his neck, flips up a\\n wooden arm to which is attached a metal collar. A GAROTTE.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n They were digging near here and they\\n found some very pretty vases. They also\\n \",\n \"you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Syndrome.\\n It's common in kidnappings. A young\\n impressionable victim. Sheltered,\\n sexually inexperienced. A powerful\\n kidnapper skilled in torture, in\\n manipulation. Something snaps in the\\n victim's mind. The captive falls in love\\n with her captor.\\n\\n At the word \\\"love,\\\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\",\n \"Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\\n carved chair, covered in silk.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to guards)\\n Take her to Renard.\\n\\n Bond and Christmas exchange a look as the guards start her\\n towards some steps.\\n\\n Elektra indicates for him to sit. Behind him, the whole of\\n Istanbul is visible through a large curved window.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\\n\\n Bond ignores her.\\n\\n\",\n \"pares to turn it the last\\n time...His hand strains at its binding...\\n\\n BOND\\n One... last... screw?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (kissing his ear)\\n Oh James.\\n\\n She begins to turn the screw...\\n\\n ... when SEVERAL GUNSHOTS are heard outside.\\n\\n Bond is on the edge of consciousness.\\n\\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TO\",\n \".\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n They were digging near here and they\\n found some very pretty vases. They also\\n found this...\\n (meaning the garotte)\\n I think we ignore the old ways at our\\n peril, don't you?\\n\\n Bond recoils as she fastens the collar... She steps back.\\n\\n BOND\\n (ignoring her)\\n Where's M?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\\n\\n Bond\",\n \"\\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\\n\\n BOND\\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\\n what's the point of living if you can't\\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\\n Isn't that your motto?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n Or did you steal it from your\",\n \"amused as\\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\\n to shoot Bond!\\n\\n Bond stares back. Zukovsky's eye narrows -- trying for\\n extreme accuracy...\\n\\n BLAM! The SHOT hits the binding at Bond's wrist. Splinters\\n the wood there.\\n\\n ELEKTRA stares at Zukovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\\n further\",\n \"\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n Or did you steal it from your old friend\\n Renard?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n ...what?\\n\\n BOND\\n We had a run-in, he and I. He knew about\\n us, he knew about my shoulder, he knew\\n exactly where to hurt me...\\n\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the\",\n \"saw me. You knew\\n it would be like this.\\n\\n BOND\\n Shush.\\n\\n Her hand dips in an ice bucket beside the bed. She rubs a\\n slither of ice down her chest, shudders with pleasure. It's\\n a move Bond hasn't seen before.\\n\\n Now she brings the ice to his shoulder.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Poor shoulder. Looks painful...\\n\\n She kisses his purple flesh. Licks.\\n\\n BOND\\n \",\n \" The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Since I was a child, I've always had a\\n power over men. When I realized my father\\n wouldn't rescue me from the kidnappers, I\\n knew I had to form a new alliance.\\n\\n BOND\\n (realizing)\\n You turned Renard.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (smiling)\\n Just like you...\",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n James. You can't kill me. Not in cold\\n blood.\\n\\n But Bond isn't wavering. Clutches Zukovsky's bloody wet gun.\\n\\n He heads up in the semi-darkness -- and suddenly swings to\\n his right, at an unexpected but familiar Voice:\\n\\n M\\n Bond --\\n\\n Bond kicks open a door and enters...\\n\\n M'S PRISON ROOM\\n\\n He fires at the lock on her cell door and f\",\n \"ances at\\n Zukovsky's corpse. Slightly puzzled, to Bond:\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Zukovsky really hated you.\\n (beat)\\n Time to say goodnight.\\n\\n And she kisses him -- reaches behind to deliver the killer\\n twist...\\n\\n One super-fast movement:\\n\\n Bond's hand breaks free, grabs her throat, tight. He holds\\n her, their faces close together, disdain in his eyes -- hurls\\n her backwards, her hand\",\n \"\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\\n\\n Elektra crosses the hallway as the doors open. Kisses Bond\\n on the cheek as she eyes Christmas.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n James Bond and his amazing resurrection.\\n If only you'd kept away, we might have\\n met again in a few years, become lovers\\n once more.\\n\\n Christmas eyes Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\\n carved chair, covered in silk.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n\",\n \"ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\\n dead? It's what you wanted.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (beat)\\n Of course...\\n\\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\\n\\n RENARD\\n He was a...good lover?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\",\n \"TRA\\n Poor shoulder. Looks painful...\\n\\n She kisses his purple flesh. Licks.\\n\\n BOND\\n ...needs constant attention...\\n\\n She slides her tongue back and fore along the groove above\\n the tendon. And he pulls the ice from her hand:\\n\\n BOND\\n Enough ice for one day.\\n\\n Tosses it across the room as passion takes over...\\n\\n INT. BEDROOM, ELEKTRA'S VILLA - LATER\\n\\n A p\",\n \"\\n\\n She walks over, puts her heel on his gun arm, presses down,\\n smiling a half-psychotic smile. The gun is pinned.\\n\\n Zukovsky is dying.\\n\\n But he dredges up every last ounce of energy to raise his gun\\n a millimetre off the ground, his outstretched arm already\\n pointing at Bond. Elektra looks surprised, then amused as\\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\\n to shoot Bond!\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"chamber up...\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE, BOSPHORUS - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n The submarine is slowly sinking, nose down. Air is escaping\\n from the many seams that are creeping apart. We can hear the\\n metallic GROANS through the water.\\n\\n INT. TORPEDO ROOM\\n\\n Bond and Christmas crawl into TORPEDO CHAMBERS...\\n\\n Bond reaches out, setting a timer to FIRE...\\n\\n The clock ticks down...\\n\",\n \"He gets inside, yanks it closed...\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Christmas, shivering in the rising water.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Twenty.\\n\\n She presses a button...\\n\\n INT. CHAMBER BEYOND (NOW ABOVE) REACTOR - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n The hatch opens and Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\\n The hatch closes.\\n\\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here\",\n \"Bond and Christmas are ahead of the water. They have reached\\n a level where various systems are operated from.\\n\\n BOND\\n There's one chance.\\n\\n He punches buttons.\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE, BOSPHORUS - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n High up on the sub, a hatch opens. Water floods into an\\n escape hatch. An inner door stops it getting into the\\n submarine itself.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUO\",\n \"ORPEDO CHAMBERS...\\n\\n Bond reaches out, setting a timer to FIRE...\\n\\n The clock ticks down...\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE - UNDERWATER BOSPHORUS - DAY\\n\\n The Torpedo doors open and Bond and Christmas are SHOT OUT\\n INTO THE WATER, streaking through, as behind them...\\n\\n THE SUBMARINE EXPLODES in spectacular fashion.\\n\\n EXT. SURFACE, BOSPHORUS - DAY\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n THE GAUGE IS PASSING 4900, EDGING TOWARDS THE NO-WAY-BACK\\n 5000 MARK. Meltdown imminent...\\n\\n He looks down the sub -- more water racing upward...\\n\\n Back to the pile. Scans the scene, searching for an idea.\\n Sees a HOSE, compressed air escaping from a fissure. Thinks\\n fast. Grabs the hose,\",\n \" Everything not screwed\\n down starts sliding...\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS - LONG SHOT\\n\\n The submarine is tilting, further and further, the nose\\n dropping down and down...\\n\\n Pretty soon we have the strange and incredible sight of a\\n submarine hanging vertically, nose down.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER, SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Renard hangs on, swings, until he can get a footing on the\\n nearest\",\n \" An inner door stops it getting into the\\n submarine itself.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Renard slowly inserts the plutonium rod. Immediately the\\n light around him becomes a deeper blue, a horrible\\n luminescence. The staccato click of a distant Geiger counter\\n intensifies.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n As Bond opens the inner door of an ESCAPE HATCH, he points\\n out\",\n \" RENARD scans the water with night-vision binoculars.\\n\\n EXT. BOSPHORUS - NIGHT - HIS GREEN POV:\\n\\n A SUPERTANKER churns along...\\n\\n ADJUST ANGLE\\n\\n The CAMERA SINKS BENEATH THE WAVES, steals through the gloom -\\n - eventually comes upon something sitting just beneath the\\n belly of the tanker. The silhouette of a SUBMARINE, hugging\\n the tanker'\",\n \"up.\\n\\n Passes the conning tower.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Fourteen, one thousand, fifteen, one\\n thousand...\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE - UNDERWATER\\n\\n Bond is running out of air...\\n\\n And then he sees it -- the open hatch of the rear escape\\n door.\\n\\n He gets inside, yanks it closed...\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Christmas, shivering\",\n \"Tanks open.\\n\\n But the man has stretched his hand to a fire alarm:\\n\\n The KLAXON RESOUNDS.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE CONTROL ROOM - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Renard looks up.\\n\\n RENARD\\n (to self)\\n Bond...\\n\\n He flicks a switch;\\n\\n RENARD\\n (into mic)\\n Bond! You have decided to join me on this\\n historic voyage. Welcome to my nuclear\\n family\",\n \" Count to twenty. I'll be there.\\n\\n She moves over and seals the door, wrenches a lever which\\n immediately floods the chamber with water.\\n\\n INT. ESCAPE HATCH - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Inside the chamber, Bond holds his breath as water seeps in.\\n The most claustrophobic thing you've ever seen.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n A green light comes on and Christmas punches a button...\\n\\n EX\",\n \"\\n Nuclear.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Not just nuclear. Powered by a nuclear\\n reactor.\\n (the penny drops)\\n He's not loading any cargo. They want the\\n sub. The sub itself.\\n Put weapons grade plutonium inside the\\n sub's reactor: Instant, catastrophic\\n meltdown.\\n\\n BOND\\n Made to look just like an accident.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Mother of God.\\n\\n \",\n \"AME\\n\\n Christmas is counting.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n One, one thousand, two, one thousand...\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE - UNDERWATER\\n\\n It's dark out here. It would be very easy for Bond to get\\n disoriented.\\n\\n He peers around, trying to get his bearings against the vast\\n vertical whale he's swimming up.\\n\\n Passes the conning tower.\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n \",\n \" Elektra would control it all.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n If what you say it true...it may be too\\n late for Yevgeny.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n INT. SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - ISTANBUL - DAY\\n\\n The ancient arched underbelly of a waterside building.\\n\\n Something is disturbing a large expanse of water. A black\\n shadow looms beneath the waves. A SUBMARINE\",\n \"TINUOUS\\n\\n Bond down below. Renard's crew are spread throughout the sub.\\n He creeps through...\\n\\n Approaches one man working some levers, smoking. Bond holds\\n his gun to his head.\\n\\n BOND\\n How do you want to die?\\n (re: cigarette)\\n That?\\n (re: gun)\\n Or this?\\n\\n INT. CABIN, SUBMARINE - MOMENTS LATER\\n\\n A few SOLID B\",\n \"Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\\n The hatch closes.\\n\\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here. Bond looks down at\\n the sealed door of the reactor chamber, curses.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bathed in the horrible light of the over-heating reactor,\\n Renard looks upwards, aware of sounds on the other side of\\n the door...\\n\\n KER-BLAM! A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT.\",\n \"blow with his feet. Both rigs moving together now, he CLIMBS\\n ONTO THE BOMB RIG...Puts out a hand, helps Christmas across.\\n\\n The bomb sits there, daunting, deadly.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Tactical fission device. Low yield.\\n\\n They look at one another, then set straight to work.\\n\\n INT. COMMAND ROOM - PIPELINE CONTROL CENTRE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n The room is quiet, tense. M and\",\n \"him, is flung back, nearly falls through\\n the hatch but manages to grab a pipe, hangs on for dear life.\\n\\n THE GAUGE HITS 4700\\n\\n\\n BOND AND RENARD\\n\\n struggle... Both slamming into switches and buttons.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n OMITTED 314-316\\n\\n INT. SUBMARINE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n THE GAUGE IS PASSING 4900\",\n \" To the room:\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n I'm looking for a submarine. It's big\\n and black, and the driver is a friend of\\n mine.\\n\\n Then his eye falls on the HAT Renard had brought up from\\n below. He knows at once what it means.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Bring it to me.\\n\\n She picks it up, walks to him (surreptitiously sliding a gun\\n beneath it). She proffers the hat...\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n Something is disturbing a large expanse of water. A black\\n shadow looms beneath the waves. A SUBMARINE SURFACES.\\n\\n INT. SECRET QUAY (MAIDEN'S TOWER) - ISTANBUL - DAY\\n\\n Waiting at the newly excavated quay: Renard and his men.\\n\\n The submarine's hatch opens. A YOUTHFUL CAPTAIN EMERGES,\\n vaguely resembling his uncle, Z\"\n ],\n [\n \"procedure, Mr. Bond,\\n but you understand, a man in my\\n position..\\n\\n BOND\\n Which is neutral, no doubt.\\n\\n Lachaise takes the joke a little tight-lipped. Gestures for\\n Bond to sit.\\n\\n A GIRL ENTERS, a gorgeous Swiss bombshell in a pin-striped\\n suit. She pushes a cart. On it are a BRIEFCASE and a box of\\n EXPENSIVE CIGARS, which she offers to Lachaise and Bond\",\n \"INT. BANK - GENEVA - DAY\\n\\n Bond appears on the top floor of the grand old building, by\\n the elevator. Looks over the balcony, sees figures on the\\n stairs. Hears the elevator cage start from below.\\n\\n Thinking fast, he wrenches open the steel gate, leans into\\n the lift shaft, watches the elevator COUNTERWEIGHT as it\\n comes down. Almost nonchalant, he steps out...\\n\\n INT. STAIRWELL/ELEVATOR SHAFT - DAY\",\n \"source.\\n\\n INT. HALLWAY OFFICE BUILDING - DAY\\n\\n An engraved brass plaque announcing the name of the \\\"private\\n banking institute\\\" within.\\n\\n INT. PENTHOUSE BANK OFFICE - GENEVA - DAY\\n\\n JAMES BOND, dressed impeccably as ever, is being FRISKED by\\n three THUGS in Armani suits. They remove A GUN from inside\\n his jacket, a well-concealed knife, a metal case, laying them\",\n \"Armani suits. They remove A GUN from inside\\n his jacket, a well-concealed knife, a metal case, laying them\\n on the desk that separates Bond and...\\n\\n LACHAISE...an extremely well-groomed gentleman. Behind him,\\n three floor-to-ceiling windows lead out to a rooftop garden.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n Not the usual Swiss procedure, Mr. Bond,\\n but you understand, a man in my\\n position..\\n\\n BOND\\n Which is neutral\",\n \"cigar into his pocket...\\n\\n Except Henchman #1 has recovered, blocks his way, gun in\\n hand. He starts to squeeze the trigger -- when a RED DOT\\n appears on his chest...another window SHATTERS as a bullet\\n zings through and pierces the henchman in the heart.\\n\\n Bond looks back once at the shattered window, then heads out.\\n\\n INT. BANK - GENEVA - DAY\\n\\n Bond appears on the top floor of the grand old building, by\\n the elevator.\",\n \"and opening it up...inside is a good\\n deal of CASH in pound sterling.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n In the current exchange rate, minus the\\n fees, of course, and certain\\n unforeseeable expenses. Here is the\\n receipt...\\n\\n The CIGAR GIRL offers Bond a RECEIPT...\\n\\n CIGAR GIRL\\n Would you like to check my figures?\\n\\n BOND\\n Perhaps later.\\n\\n She steps back. Bond reaches for the metal case\",\n \"SE\\n I am just a middle man. I am doing the\\n honourable thing and returning the money\\n to its rightful owner...\\n\\n BOND\\n And we know how difficult that can be for\\n the Swiss.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n (controlled fury)\\n Your last chance. Take the money.\\n\\n BOND\\n Your last chance. Give me the name.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n Stripped of all your weaponry, you still\\n threaten me?\\n\\n\",\n \"\\t\\t\\n\\n T H E W O R L D I S N O T E N O U G H\\n\\n (BOND 19)\\n\\n --------------------------------------------------------------\\n\\n GUN BARREL LOGO OPENS ON\\n\\n GENEVA SWITZERLAND, an unnaturally clean city that melds old\\n Europe with new money of both dubious and legitimate source.\\n\\n INT. HALLWAY OFFICE BUILDING - DAY\\n\\n An engraved brass plaque announcing the name\",\n \". Almost nonchalant, he steps out...\\n\\n INT. STAIRWELL/ELEVATOR SHAFT - DAY\\n\\n As the cageful of police rises, Bond is now standing on the\\n counterweight, DESCENDING.\\n\\n EXT. STREET - GENEVA\\n\\n Lunchtime. Faceless business crowds heading for their brief\\n moment of freedom, among them we spot BOND...one of them,\\n with a briefcase and a suit and tie...HOLD on his face,\\n trou\",\n \"He looks out at the long stretch of pipeline, like a deadly\\n snake with the world for its bed.\\n\\n BOND\\n I know I promised you champagne, but\\n would you settle for caviar?\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - ISTANBUL - TWILIGHT\\n\\n A boat puts in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\\n\\n Renard disemb\",\n \"the\\n SECURE ROOM. Bond hands the suitcase to a STAFF MEMBER.\\n\\n BOND\\n Have this checked, see what you can get\\n off it.\\n\\n INT. MONEYPENNY'S OFFICE, MI-6 - DAY\\n\\n Bond appears, hiding something behind his back. Moneypenny\\n brightens.\\n\\n MONEYPENNY\\n James. Brought me a souvenir from\\n Geneva?\\n\\n He produces the cigar, now in a\",\n \"in background, the seaplane moors beneath the\\n vast stepped cake that is MI-6. Bond exits with the\\n suitcase.\\n\\n INT. SECURITY, MI-6 - DAY\\n\\n CAMERA MOVES with Bond as he enters this secret, hi-tech\\n world. He passes through countless security procedures,\\n watched by an attentive staff.\\n\\n Bond scoops the money out of the suitcase. Three million\\n sterling in tightly bundled hundreds makes quite a sight. He\\n f\",\n \".\\n\\n Bond rushes to the window...\\n\\n EXT. VERANDAH - ROOFS - GENEVA - DAY\\n\\n She swings on a WIRE across to another roof, quickly\\n disappearing into shadows.\\n\\n Bond can hear sirens approaching. He returns to...\\n\\n THE OFFICE...he grabs the money and moves fast for the door,\\n casually slipping that cigar into his pocket...\\n\\n Except Henchman #1 has recovered, blocks his way, gun in\\n hand. He starts to\",\n \"and a military haircut.\\n\\n The man seems to see Bond looking at him...\\n\\n M\\n Bond, we'll meet you inside.\\n\\n Bond looks at her for a brief second...when he turns back,\\n the man is gone, like an APPARITION.\\n\\n Bond walks off, up the grassy slope, toward the rise.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n THE VIEW ACROSS THE VALLEY\\n\\n Bond stands on the hill, looking below. He sees nothing but\\n a green carpet,\",\n \". I need some information.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Bond, I'm a civilian. This is my place.\\n Used to be the royal family's, now it's\\n mine. I run my little business, I stay\\n out of trouble...\\n\\n BOND\\n (looking about)\\n Mafia warlords, Diplomats and spies,\\n consortiums from every country in the\\n world. A nice little rat's nest.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\",\n \" INT. CAVIAR FISHERY - CITY OF WALKWAYS - DUSK (OLD SC.176)\\n\\n Nailed on the battered old door, the lid of a caviar jar, a\\n label illustrated with a LINE DRAWING OF ZUKOVSKY. Zukovsky\\n opens the door and finds himself...\\n\\n Staring straight down Bond's pistol. Bond and Christmas are\\n silhouetted by the gold dusk light. At their feet lies one\\n of Zukov\",\n \"it are a BRIEFCASE and a box of\\n EXPENSIVE CIGARS, which she offers to Lachaise and Bond.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n It wasn't easy, but I retrieved the\\n money. No doubt Sir Robert will be\\n pleased to see it again.\\n\\n The efficient Cigar Girl brings the briefcase to Bond,\\n setting it in his lap and opening it up...inside is a good\\n deal of CASH in pound sterling.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n In\",\n \" them turns to look back, unaware that she is on display. She\\n returns Bond's smile. Her friend turns to look. Bond's\\n smile grows: she has a small pistol concealed over one\\n breast.\\n\\n INT. CASINO NOIR D'OR, BAKU - NIGHT\\n\\n He looks over the lenses -- and spies someone on the fringes.\\n His old adversary, ex-KGB, VALENTIN ZUKOVSKY, talking to some\\n suspicious types. Zuk\",\n \"\\n I can't tell you...\\n (Bond cocks the gun)\\n Alright, alright! But you must protect\\n me!\\n\\n And he freezes. The handle of a THROWING KNIFE is sticking\\n out of his neck. Bond looks up, catches sight of the CIGAR\\n GIRL as she vaults out the broken window and onto THE ROOF.\\n\\n Bond rushes to the window...\\n\\n EXT. VERANDAH - ROOFS - GENEVA - DAY\\n\",\n \"OKER is soon\\n wrapping herself around him. After a few words, she leads him\\n off toward the back.\\n\\n Bond returns to the game, shaking his head. He watches as\\n THE DEALER DEALS FROM THE SHOE.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n INT. SALON PRIV - NIGHT\\n\\n A small room. Lit by sconces that sport LIVE FLAMES. Tacky-\\n luxurious, a refracted Eastern reflection on an old west\\n wh\"\n ],\n [\n \"He shouted. He shouted all the time --\\n\\n Bond touches Elektra's face, freezing her tears.\\n\\n His eyes wander to the photo with the ransom demand:\\n $5,000,000. A thought forms. He takes out his wallet,\\n opening it and removing:\\n\\n THE RECEIPT FROM LACHAISE.\\n\\n E.C.U. The strange figure, in pounds: 3,030,303.03.\\n\\n Bond taps some keys\",\n \"it are a BRIEFCASE and a box of\\n EXPENSIVE CIGARS, which she offers to Lachaise and Bond.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n It wasn't easy, but I retrieved the\\n money. No doubt Sir Robert will be\\n pleased to see it again.\\n\\n The efficient Cigar Girl brings the briefcase to Bond,\\n setting it in his lap and opening it up...inside is a good\\n deal of CASH in pound sterling.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n In\",\n \"s files?\\n\\n BOND\\n I took the initiative.\\n\\n M\\n You haven't been given an assignment in\\n this case.\\n\\n BOND\\n I was the one who brought that money\\n in...\\n\\n M\\n I'm well aware of your stake in this,\\n 007.\\n If you have a point, get to it.\\n\\n BOND\\n The amount of money that killed Robert\\n King is the same amount as the ransom\\n demand for\",\n \"\\n\\n BOND\\n The amount of money that killed Robert\\n King is the same amount as the ransom\\n demand for Elektra.\\n\\n He hands her a slip of paper.\\n\\n BOND\\n Whoever kidnapped Elektra is the same man\\n who killed her father.\\n\\n M looks at the paper, a long time.\\n\\n M\\n It's a message. He wants us to know he's\\n back.\\n\\n BOND\\n Who?\\n\\n \",\n \" BOND\\n Old friend?\\n\\n M\\n Since Oxford. I knew him when he had\\n nothing but a brilliant mind and enough\\n guts to conquer the world. He's a man of\\n great integrity.\\n\\n BOND\\n Who buys classified reports for three\\n million pounds.\\n\\n M picks up the report from her desk. Bond notices it is in\\n Russian, with a SEAL from a Russian military agency in the\\n corner: MIRATOM.\\n\\n M\\n It\",\n \"and opening it up...inside is a good\\n deal of CASH in pound sterling.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n In the current exchange rate, minus the\\n fees, of course, and certain\\n unforeseeable expenses. Here is the\\n receipt...\\n\\n The CIGAR GIRL offers Bond a RECEIPT...\\n\\n CIGAR GIRL\\n Would you like to check my figures?\\n\\n BOND\\n Perhaps later.\\n\\n She steps back. Bond reaches for the metal case\",\n \"number in pound sterling, calculated down to the penny:\\n\\n 3,030,303.03.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n It's all there.\\n\\n Bond folds the receipt, slips it into his WALLET...then, he\\n removes the glasses, slowly, deliberately, eyeing Lachaise.\\n\\n BOND\\n I didn't come for the money. The report\\n you sold him was stolen from an MI-6\\n agent, who was killed for it.\\n\\n\",\n \"t come for the money. The report\\n you sold him was stolen from an MI-6\\n agent, who was killed for it.\\n\\n He takes a photo from his jacket and lays it on the desk.\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n I did not get the report from an MI-6\\n agent.\\n\\n BOND\\n Who did you get it from?\\n\\n LACHAISE\\n I am just a middle man. I am doing the\\n honourable thing and returning the money\\n to its rightful owner...\\n\",\n \" King moves toward Bond with an easy, patrician smile. Bond\\n notes a TINY BADGE in his lapel -- like the glass eye of a\\n stuffed snake.\\n\\n SIR ROBERT\\n Thanks for getting my money back --never\\n expected to see it again. You're the\\n kind of man I could use. Though I won't\\n offend certain parties by asking you to\\n join King Industries.\\n\\n King looks to M, smiling.\\n\\n BOND\\n Construction's not\",\n \"...\\n\\n Bond's eyes flare in fury. He shoves Renard into the wall\\n and presses the gun to his temple.\\n\\n BOND\\n You will never touch her. You will never\\n get near her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Have you forgotten who saved your life in\\n Geneva?\\n\\n BOND\\n Consider me ungrateful.\\n\\n RENARD\\n It's I who should thank you -- for taking\\n that money back to MI-6. So distress\",\n \"000,000 US DOLLARS.' He stares at it.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n INT. PASSAGEWAY - CASTLE THANE (MI-6 HQ) - DUSK\\n\\n Bond paces the flagstones, FOOTSTEPS ECHOING.\\n\\n INT. BRIEFING ROOM - CASTLE THANE (MI-6 HQ) - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bond opens the door on M who stands alone by the window,\\n\",\n \"looking private, cadaverously thin, and a\\n big, thick-necked tough.\\n\\n They all look at Bond, expectantly, waiting for him to say or\\n do...what? He decides to take the lead. He opens the\\n briefcase and hands over the STACKS OF MONEY.\\n\\n The Pilot passes it out. But that isn't the end. They still\\n stare at him. The Pilot says something IN RUSSIAN that\\n sounds like...\\\"where's the rest?\\\"\\n\\n Bond swallows\",\n \"in background, the seaplane moors beneath the\\n vast stepped cake that is MI-6. Bond exits with the\\n suitcase.\\n\\n INT. SECURITY, MI-6 - DAY\\n\\n CAMERA MOVES with Bond as he enters this secret, hi-tech\\n world. He passes through countless security procedures,\\n watched by an attentive staff.\\n\\n Bond scoops the money out of the suitcase. Three million\\n sterling in tightly bundled hundreds makes quite a sight. He\\n f\",\n \"What's your business with Elektra King?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n I thought you were the one in her\\n business.\\n\\n BOND\\n She dropped a million and half dollars to\\n the House -- your House. And you didn't\\n even bat an eyelid. She was paying you\\n off. What for?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n As ever you are the spy who has to see a\\n plot wherever he looks.\\n\\n Bond SLAMS Zukovsky\",\n \"the\\n SECURE ROOM. Bond hands the suitcase to a STAFF MEMBER.\\n\\n BOND\\n Have this checked, see what you can get\\n off it.\\n\\n INT. MONEYPENNY'S OFFICE, MI-6 - DAY\\n\\n Bond appears, hiding something behind his back. Moneypenny\\n brightens.\\n\\n MONEYPENNY\\n James. Brought me a souvenir from\\n Geneva?\\n\\n He produces the cigar, now in a\",\n \"to the region.\\n He married into the Vavra family, rich\\n local industrialists. He used those\\n connections to hold it all together.\\n\\n BOND\\n Kill the man, kill the pipeline.\\n\\n M\\n Not necessarily. Not with Elektra taking\\n over.\\n\\n Tanner notices a RED LIGHT start pulsing. He moves to M:\\n\\n TANNER\\n Your call to the PM.\\n\\n M nods grimly. As Robinson distributes sealed envelopes:\",\n \".\\n\\n Bond rushes to the window...\\n\\n EXT. VERANDAH - ROOFS - GENEVA - DAY\\n\\n She swings on a WIRE across to another roof, quickly\\n disappearing into shadows.\\n\\n Bond can hear sirens approaching. He returns to...\\n\\n THE OFFICE...he grabs the money and moves fast for the door,\\n casually slipping that cigar into his pocket...\\n\\n Except Henchman #1 has recovered, blocks his way, gun in\\n hand. He starts to\",\n \" I'll need some help...\\n\\n Her IDA colleagues look sheepish. Bond moves to her.\\n\\n BOND\\n Come on.\\n\\n For just a moment, Christmas looks wary:\\n\\n BOND\\n Unless you'd like to see my ID first.\\n\\n She almost smiles.\\n\\n M nods to Tanner to follow them. Bond doesn't look at\\n Elektra. But she watches him go...\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. HEL\",\n \"oops the money out of the suitcase. Three million\\n sterling in tightly bundled hundreds makes quite a sight. He\\n flicks his finger through the last wad, tosses it down\\n wistfully. A blue light scans it on three axis.\\n\\n The money is bundled into a clear plastic bag, put on a tray\\n and wheeled through a series of barred enclosures into the\\n SECURE ROOM. Bond hands the suitcase to a STAFF MEMBER.\\n\\n BOND\\n Have\",\n \" ZUKOVSKY\\n Help me, don't let me drown.\\n\\n She looks to Bond -- sees he's serious.\\n\\n BOND\\n (to Zukovsky)\\n You're in this thing up to your neck.\\n\\n Zukovsky sinks alarmingly -- he talks rapidly, staccato:\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Alright, alright! Sometimes I smuggle\\n machinery for her. Russian stuff.\\n\\n BOND\\n And\"\n ],\n [\n \"Bond shoots around the corner just in time to see Sir Robert\\n disappearing past the THICK STEEL DOOR of the secure room.\\n\\n BOND\\n Stop! King!\\n\\n INT. SECURITY, MI-6 - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n The shout is muffled, Sir Robert's more interested in the\\n money.\\n\\n He continues toward camera, that PIN on his lapel emits a\\n serene HUM and we\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n CLOSE ON THE\",\n \"him\\n and the cash. An official produces a bag and moves toward\\n it:\\n\\n SIR ROBERT\\n Thanks, but I'll count it myself.\\n (apologetic, smiles)\\n Lifetime habit. I'm Scottish.\\n\\n INT. LOWER CORRIDORS/SECURITY AREA, MI-6 - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bond shoots around the corner just in time to see Sir Robert\\n disappearing past the THICK STEEL DOOR of the secure room.\\n\\n\",\n \" BOND\\n Perhaps Sir Robert had a word with the\\n Man Upstairs.\\n\\n WOMAN\\n A word? I'm sure by now he's engineered a\\n hostile takeover.\\n\\n BOND\\n You knew him well?\\n\\n The sun glints off her bejewelled earlobe.\\n\\n WOMAN\\n He was my father.\\n\\n BOND\\n I'm sorry.\\n\\n WOMAN\\n He died before he could complete his\\n\",\n \"off the\\n blow with a small wooden cover from a shipping crate. He\\n traps the Boa's arm and gives him two quick devastating kicks\\n in the solar plexus. He Boa stages back to the railing. A\\n final kick from Bond sends him over the side...\\n\\n THE BOA FALLS, LANDING ON HIS BACK ON THE DECK BELOW WITH A\\n SICKENING THUD.\\n\\n Bond looks down, sees the Boa's body at a horrible angle, his\\n neck\",\n \" King moves toward Bond with an easy, patrician smile. Bond\\n notes a TINY BADGE in his lapel -- like the glass eye of a\\n stuffed snake.\\n\\n SIR ROBERT\\n Thanks for getting my money back --never\\n expected to see it again. You're the\\n kind of man I could use. Though I won't\\n offend certain parties by asking you to\\n join King Industries.\\n\\n King looks to M, smiling.\\n\\n BOND\\n Construction's not\",\n \"pares to turn it the last\\n time...His hand strains at its binding...\\n\\n BOND\\n One... last... screw?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (kissing his ear)\\n Oh James.\\n\\n She begins to turn the screw...\\n\\n ... when SEVERAL GUNSHOTS are heard outside.\\n\\n Bond is on the edge of consciousness.\\n\\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TO\",\n \" jubilation. Effectively, he's a dead man.\\n\\n She presses a button, the hologram turns...\\n\\n M\\n The bullet is moving through the medulla\\n oblongata, killing off his sense of\\n touch. He feels no pain. He can push\\n himself harder, longer than any normal\\n man.\\n\\n BOND\\n 'That which does not kill me makes me\\n stronger.'\\n\\n M\\n Now Robert is dead. He got his revenge.\\n\\n BOND\",\n \".\\n (nods to M's door)\\n She's in with Sir Robert.\\n\\n INT. M'S OFFICE, MI-6 - DAY\\n\\n Bond enters. SIR ROBERT KING is perched on the edge of M's\\n desk. Two glasses, a bottle of scotch open.\\n\\n M\\n Sir Robert King, James Bond.\\n\\n King moves toward Bond with an easy, patrician smile. Bond\\n notes a TINY BADGE in his lapel -- like the\",\n \"The chauffeur is shot and killed. The gunmen then turn their\\n attention to Zukovsky and Christmas, when suddenly BOND\\n APPEARS through a trap door in the floor boards.\\n\\n Bond shoots one of the gunmen, then fires on the other...\\n Zukovsky grabs Christmas and they make their escape Bond\\n sees a third gunman firing from the basement and takes him\\n out.\\n\\n EXT. WALKWAYS - SAME\\n\\n Zukovsky and Christmas make a dash for Z\",\n \"\\n WOMAN\\n Beautiful, isn't it?\\n\\n BOND\\n Yes.\\n\\n She steps up to the ridge with him. A breeze blows her hair.\\n They stare out. The sun's rays have broken the clouds and\\n strafe the valley.\\n\\n WOMAN\\n Today, of all days, the sun decides to\\n shine.\\n\\n BOND\\n Perhaps Sir Robert had a word with the\\n Man Upstairs.\\n\\n WOMAN\\n A word\",\n \"flatter the guests.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n That too. Everyone does what they can to\\n survive.\\n\\n BOND\\n How high up does this...arms dealing go?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Bond. If someone wants you dead, it is\\n Renard. Our government has nothing to\\n gain by killing you.\\n\\n BOND\\n But you would have something to gain by\\n killing Robert King. And stopping his\\n pipeline.\\n\\n This hits Zukovsky.\",\n \"you can't...feel alive.\\n\\n Bond knows that, he's heard it somewhere before...IT FREEZES\\n HIM, just a beat, but it is enough...\\n\\n SUDDENLY, the noise of footsteps -- CHRISTMAS JONES, with\\n COLONEL AKAKIEVICH and two armed soldiers.\\n\\n We're with them as they turn the corner of the passageway and\\n see Bond with silenced pistol aimed at the kneeling Renard --\\n classic execution stance:\\n\\n COL\",\n \" 5000), we see Renard approaching from behind us...\\n\\n BOND jams the hose into the reactor, ducks down -- as the air\\n blows the rod out - narrowly missing him as it shoots past --\\n impales Renard in the heart, just before he could shoot.\\n\\n Renard stares at Bond in horror. Bond calmly takes the flare\\n gun off him.\\n\\n BOND\\n She's waiting for you.\\n\\n And he lets him fall past Christmas, through consecutive open\",\n \"ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\\n dead? It's what you wanted.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (beat)\\n Of course...\\n\\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\\n\\n RENARD\\n He was a...good lover?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\",\n \"ENNY\\n James. Brought me a souvenir from\\n Geneva?\\n\\n He produces the cigar, now in a large phallic TUBE. Stands\\n it end up on the desk.\\n\\n BOND\\n Thought you might want one of these.\\n\\n MONEYPENNY\\n (beat, deadpan)\\n I gave up a long time ago.\\n (nods to M's door)\\n She's in with Sir Robert.\\n\\n INT. M'S OFF\",\n \"dead.\\n\\n Bond runs out, into\\n\\n EXT. STREET - DAY\\n\\n Teeming with people, his eyes scanning, he spots...THE BOA\\n climbing a ladder alongside a building to A ROOF.\\n\\n Bond chases after him, clambering up, but when he gets to the\\n top of the roof...\\n\\n Boa has now been joined by THREE THUGS. One attacks Bond as\\n the Boa and the others move away...\\n\\n Bond fights with the thug, they stumble across\",\n \", yanks a PISTOL from his holster, GRABS Christmas,\\n LEAPS down into the bomb PIT just as\\n\\n RENARD'S MEN open fire... Akakievich dies straight away. So\\n do two of his men. The gunfire RICOCHETS around the chamber\\n and ceases.\\n\\n Renard hangs back. His radio crackles a message:\\n\\n RENARD\\n (nods, into radio)\\n Shut them.\\n\\n THE GUY ON\",\n \". All vulnerable to\\n unstable governments or Russian blockade.\\n\\n BOND\\n So Sir Robert's goes through Turkey,\\n direct to the Med...?\\n\\n ROBINSON\\n A huge project. The most expensive of the\\n pipelines, but the one supported by every\\n Western leader. None of the American oil\\n companies were willing to take it on.\\n But King has connections to the region.\\n He married into the Vavra family, rich\\n local industrialists. He used those\\n connections to hold it all\",\n \" (beat)\\n That bullet is still there.\\n\\n Bond moves toward the ghostly Renard. We now see THE BULLET\\n INSIDE HIS SKULL.\\n\\n BOND\\n He survived?\\n\\n M\\n The doctor who saved him couldn't get it\\n out, so Renard killed him. When Interpol\\n found the x-rays, there was mild\\n jubilation. Effectively, he's a dead man.\\n\\n She presses a button, the hologram turns...\\n\\n\",\n \"to the region.\\n He married into the Vavra family, rich\\n local industrialists. He used those\\n connections to hold it all together.\\n\\n BOND\\n Kill the man, kill the pipeline.\\n\\n M\\n Not necessarily. Not with Elektra taking\\n over.\\n\\n Tanner notices a RED LIGHT start pulsing. He moves to M:\\n\\n TANNER\\n Your call to the PM.\\n\\n M nods grimly. As Robinson distributes sealed envelopes:\"\n ],\n [\n \"The chauffeur is shot and killed. The gunmen then turn their\\n attention to Zukovsky and Christmas, when suddenly BOND\\n APPEARS through a trap door in the floor boards.\\n\\n Bond shoots one of the gunmen, then fires on the other...\\n Zukovsky grabs Christmas and they make their escape Bond\\n sees a third gunman firing from the basement and takes him\\n out.\\n\\n EXT. WALKWAYS - SAME\\n\\n Zukovsky and Christmas make a dash for Z\",\n \", yanks a PISTOL from his holster, GRABS Christmas,\\n LEAPS down into the bomb PIT just as\\n\\n RENARD'S MEN open fire... Akakievich dies straight away. So\\n do two of his men. The gunfire RICOCHETS around the chamber\\n and ceases.\\n\\n Renard hangs back. His radio crackles a message:\\n\\n RENARD\\n (nods, into radio)\\n Shut them.\\n\\n THE GUY ON\",\n \"off the\\n blow with a small wooden cover from a shipping crate. He\\n traps the Boa's arm and gives him two quick devastating kicks\\n in the solar plexus. He Boa stages back to the railing. A\\n final kick from Bond sends him over the side...\\n\\n THE BOA FALLS, LANDING ON HIS BACK ON THE DECK BELOW WITH A\\n SICKENING THUD.\\n\\n Bond looks down, sees the Boa's body at a horrible angle, his\\n neck\",\n \"\\n\\n She walks over, puts her heel on his gun arm, presses down,\\n smiling a half-psychotic smile. The gun is pinned.\\n\\n Zukovsky is dying.\\n\\n But he dredges up every last ounce of energy to raise his gun\\n a millimetre off the ground, his outstretched arm already\\n pointing at Bond. Elektra looks surprised, then amused as\\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\\n to shoot Bond!\\n\\n\",\n \" it...the man slips it into his pocket.\\n\\n BOND\\n Revenge isn't so hard to fathom. What's\\n clever is getting someone else to pay for\\n it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Not many people in this world have that\\n kind of fortune.\\n\\n Bond cocks the pistol.\\n\\n BOND\\n Who is it?\\n\\n RENARD\\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\\n get on my knees and pray for it. You,\",\n \".\\n\\n Bond looks at the pack he left on the ground...\\n\\n He grabs Christmas and HURLS HER TO THE FLOOR.\\n\\n KABOOM!\\n\\n A MASSIVE EXPLOSION rips the place apart. In half a second\\n the air is thick with coloured dust and drifting clumps of\\n burning silk.\\n\\n Bond stands. Christmas is stunned, but okay. He looks\\n around at the others - few dead, all out for the count, among\\n them, Zukovsky\",\n \"dead.\\n\\n Bond runs out, into\\n\\n EXT. STREET - DAY\\n\\n Teeming with people, his eyes scanning, he spots...THE BOA\\n climbing a ladder alongside a building to A ROOF.\\n\\n Bond chases after him, clambering up, but when he gets to the\\n top of the roof...\\n\\n Boa has now been joined by THREE THUGS. One attacks Bond as\\n the Boa and the others move away...\\n\\n Bond fights with the thug, they stumble across\",\n \"cigar into his pocket...\\n\\n Except Henchman #1 has recovered, blocks his way, gun in\\n hand. He starts to squeeze the trigger -- when a RED DOT\\n appears on his chest...another window SHATTERS as a bullet\\n zings through and pierces the henchman in the heart.\\n\\n Bond looks back once at the shattered window, then heads out.\\n\\n INT. BANK - GENEVA - DAY\\n\\n Bond appears on the top floor of the grand old building, by\\n the elevator.\",\n \"HEAD with\\n his gun when...\\n\\n THE BUS TURNS onto a new street...THE WIRES AGAIN...Thug\\n Two's gun is caught up in them...he is instantly\\n ELECTROCUTED.\\n\\n Thug three watches his friend's horrible death, giving Bond\\n time to slug him hard across the face and THROW HIM FROM THE\\n BUS...\\n\\n EXT. STREET\\n\\n Thug two's body goes SLAMMING INTO THE WINDSHIELD of\",\n \"higher, the Cigar Girl begins\\n FIRING AT HIM over the edge of the carriage.\\n\\n Bond, with ONE HAND, returns fire.\\n\\n CIGAR GIRL then leans over the edge of the carriage and\\n begins to SLICE THE ROPE that Bond is hanging from.\\n\\n The fibers split and fray away from each other as...\\n\\n BOND FALLS, heading straight toward...\\n\\n THE MILLENNIUM DOME, which the balloon has drifted over.\\n\\n AS HE PLUM\",\n \"S. One attacks Bond as\\n the Boa and the others move away...\\n\\n Bond fights with the thug, they stumble across the roof,\\n gripping each other, until Bond gets the upper hand and\\n THROWS HIM DOWN through a thatched roof where he falls...\\n\\n EXT. BAZAAR\\n\\n Into the market below.\\n\\n Christmas, just coming into the square, sees the body\\n falling...she runs to the thug, thinking it might be Bond...\\n\\n But the thug raises up, smiling at\",\n \" Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\\n to placate...\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n The plane...it's all been arranged...\\n\\n RENARD\\n Then you are completely unnecessary...\\n\\n Renard raises the container of oil over Davidov's head:\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n I have the documents, the landing\\n authorizations, the security passes...\\n\\n Renard stops, the oil tilted, just ready to pour...\\n\\n His dead eye...has it drooped\",\n \"Bond collapses out in a gush of water.\\n The hatch closes.\\n\\n The whole world is at a crazy angle here. Bond looks down at\\n the sealed door of the reactor chamber, curses.\\n\\n INT. REACTOR CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Bathed in the horrible light of the over-heating reactor,\\n Renard looks upwards, aware of sounds on the other side of\\n the door...\\n\\n KER-BLAM! A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT.\",\n \"heading straight toward...\\n\\n THE MILLENNIUM DOME, which the balloon has drifted over.\\n\\n AS HE PLUMMETS DOWNWARD...Bond, never surrendering, still\\n FIRES HIS WEAPON up at the balloon. A bullet hits the gas\\n tank...\\n\\n EXT. BALLOON - DAY\\n\\n The BALLOON EXPLODES IN A MASSIVE FIREBALL taking the Cigar\\n Girl with it...\\n\\n EXT. MILLENNI\",\n \"\\n Suddenly the Boa's foot kicks out, knocking the gun across\\n the room. He tighten his grip and speaks in Bond's ear.\\n\\n BOA\\n For years I was told I could never take\\n the great James Bond and his Walther PPK.\\n What good is your gun now, Bond?\\n\\n Bond can't breathe, his eyes start to dim. He slumps\\n forward, his left hand touches something hot. It's the iron\\n basket of coals used to keep the water pipes l\",\n \"INT. BANK - GENEVA - DAY\\n\\n Bond appears on the top floor of the grand old building, by\\n the elevator. Looks over the balcony, sees figures on the\\n stairs. Hears the elevator cage start from below.\\n\\n Thinking fast, he wrenches open the steel gate, leans into\\n the lift shaft, watches the elevator COUNTERWEIGHT as it\\n comes down. Almost nonchalant, he steps out...\\n\\n INT. STAIRWELL/ELEVATOR SHAFT - DAY\",\n \" Sees a HOSE, compressed air escaping from a fissure. Thinks\\n fast. Grabs the hose, snaps it free...\\n\\n RENARD\\n\\n is recovering, has found a FLARE GUN near him. Raises it to\\n Bond...\\n\\n BOND'S POV\\n\\n in the reflection of the gauge (which is millimeters from\\n 5000), we see Renard approaching from behind us...\\n\\n BOND jams the hose into the reactor, d\",\n \".\\n\\n Bond rushes to the window...\\n\\n EXT. VERANDAH - ROOFS - GENEVA - DAY\\n\\n She swings on a WIRE across to another roof, quickly\\n disappearing into shadows.\\n\\n Bond can hear sirens approaching. He returns to...\\n\\n THE OFFICE...he grabs the money and moves fast for the door,\\n casually slipping that cigar into his pocket...\\n\\n Except Henchman #1 has recovered, blocks his way, gun in\\n hand. He starts to\",\n \"the swirling dust and smoke, he suddenly sees a wand of\\n red light, pointing at his chest.\\n\\n All instinct, he dives for cover. Powerful, high velocity\\n bullet hits blanket the area. Bond prepares to return fire,\\n scanning around for the source. Through the debris he spots\\n an unusual, hi-tech BOAT on the river -- long and narrow and\\n low. A figure on board. THE CIGAR GIRL.\\n\\n ANGLE ON CIGAR GIRL\\n\\n She FIRES\",\n \"ABOR AND ANOTHER SECURITY MAN SHOOT M'S TWO GUARDS IN THE\\n HEAD...point blank, cold blood. The men fall.\\n\\n M looks back at Elektra, a blood-curdling glare.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to her men)\\n Take her to the chopper.\\n\\n EXT. PIPELINE - DAY\\n\\n From on high we follow the snaking pipeline ... until it\\n disappears in a VAST, SMOULDERING B\"\n ],\n [\n \"Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\\n blood curiously, feeling no pain.\\n\\n RENARD\\n A man tires of being executed.\\n\\n As Bond screws a silencer onto the muzzle of his gun:\\n\\n RENARD\\n But then again...There is no point in\\n living if you can't...feel alive.\\n\\n Bond knows that, he's heard it somewhere before...IT FREEZES\\n HIM\",\n \"is the\\n hottest.\\n\\n Renard touches the glass well of oil.\\n\\n RENARD\\n The temperature is close to five hundred\\n degrees.\\n\\n Renard uses his knife and POPS the seal from the lamp,\\n removing the well of oil...a DROP of the hot oil FALLS ON HIS\\n HAND and SINGES IT BLACK in an instant...\\n\\n Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\\n to placate...\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n \",\n \"?\\n\\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\\n Tormented.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n Now she runs the ice down her neck...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n But surely...\\n\\n ...her fingers becoming wet, she runs the ice down between\\n her breasts, leaving a trail. Teasing...\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n ...You can feel this?\\n\\n She's moving the ice lower on herself... We see her lips\\n open, enjoying\",\n \" Renard does not even flinch. Davidov starts talking, trying\\n to placate...\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n The plane...it's all been arranged...\\n\\n RENARD\\n Then you are completely unnecessary...\\n\\n Renard raises the container of oil over Davidov's head:\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n I have the documents, the landing\\n authorizations, the security passes...\\n\\n Renard stops, the oil tilted, just ready to pour...\\n\\n His dead eye...has it drooped\",\n \"\\n It throbs and shifts with the slightest facial expression,\\n like an insect living just beneath his skin. One EYE seems\\n slightly drooping, deadened. The other eye is sharp and black\\n as anthracite. It is a frightening face. This is RENARD.\\n\\n RENARD\\n What's his name? Our friend from MI-6?\\n\\n CIGAR GIRL\\n James Bond.\\n\\n RENARD\\n One of M's more accomplished tin\\n soldiers.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\\n out the images. After a moment, he SMASHES HIS FIST through\\n the hand-painted wood. Elektra looks up.\\n\\n HER P.O.V. A huge splinter of wood juts out of Renard's\\n hand.\\n\\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n RENARD\\n You think I fear death? I welcome it. I\\n get on my knees and pray for it. You, on\\n the other hand, you have something to\\n live for, no?\\n (closer now)\\n She's beautiful isn't she? You should\\n have seen her before. Flawless, and still\\n so innocent, not such a whore in bed...\\n\\n Bond's eyes flare in fury. He shoves Renard into the wall\\n and presses the gun to his\",\n \")\\n Take him away, I don't want him around as\\n we move the bomb.\\n (whispered, to Bond)\\n You had me. I knew you couldn't shoulder\\n the responsibility...\\n\\n And Renard jams his hand onto Bond's shoulder, squeezing his\\n collar-bone hard... Pain jolts through Bond, he drops to his\\n knees in agony. He shoves Bond down. Bond's hand goes to his\\n shoulder, his mind now racing -- how did he know to hurt him\",\n \"\\n hand.\\n\\n Renard looks at it, curious, unfazed.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Nothing.\\n\\n Elektra comes to him. Leads him to the bed. Sits. Gently\\n removes the splinter. Then, she takes an icecube from the\\n bucket. Runs it along his wound.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What about this?\\n\\n And she runs the ice down his cheek. He shakes his head.\\n Tormented.\\n\\n REN\",\n \"elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room.\\n\\n As they enter, Elektra swoops across the floor and into\\n Renard's arms. He holds her. She pushes him away.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You're hurting me.\\n\\n He senses something different between them. She tries to\\n hide it.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Brought me something?\\n\\n He smiles, gr\",\n \"\\n RENARD\\n It's I who should thank you -- for taking\\n that money back to MI-6. So distressing\\n for M. An explosion inside her lair.\\n\\n BOND\\n She'll get over it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n You even brought the plane for us. We\\n really couldn't have done it without you.\\n\\n Bond strikes him across the temple with his pistol. Renard\\n drops to his knees. He touches his temple, looks at the\\n blood\",\n \" INT. SALON PRIVE\\n\\n The HENCHMAN holds Davidov against the wall with his huge\\n fist around his neck. Near his head, the live flame of a\\n SCONCE hisses, burning blue and yellow, drawing their fuel\\n from the glass basin of hot oil attached beneath it.\\n\\n The HOOKER, obviously one of Renard's gang, has finished\\n donning her khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\\n onto her shoulder.\\n\\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\\n\",\n \"\\n Should be dead as well. Your failure\\n today is astonishing. It is a disgrace.\\n\\n He approaches close to him, stopping at the flaming SCONCE\\n near his head.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Do you know why the color is blue at the\\n wick?\\n\\n Davidov starts to sweat.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Because that is where the flame is the\\n hottest.\\n\\n Renard touches the glass well of oil.\\n\\n RENARD\\n The temperature is\",\n \"khaki pants and combat boots and straps a gun\\n onto her shoulder.\\n\\n Renard looks distastefully at the room.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Is this how you spend the money I pay\\n you? And with the rest you hire fools who\\n shoot like blind men?\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n (croaks out)\\n Bond...\\n\\n RENARD\\n Should be dead as well. Your failure\\n today is astonishing. It is a disgrace.\\n\\n He approaches close to\",\n \" (beat)\\n That bullet is still there.\\n\\n Bond moves toward the ghostly Renard. We now see THE BULLET\\n INSIDE HIS SKULL.\\n\\n BOND\\n He survived?\\n\\n M\\n The doctor who saved him couldn't get it\\n out, so Renard killed him. When Interpol\\n found the x-rays, there was mild\\n jubilation. Effectively, he's a dead man.\\n\\n She presses a button, the hologram turns...\\n\\n\",\n \"in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\\n\\n Renard disembarks with several of his retinue, heavily laden\\n with bags and cases. They enter the tower...\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n A fantastic space: stained glass windows cast myriad\\n patterns over elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room\",\n \"back.\\n\\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\\n\\n M\\n She's insane. Is that what you did to\\n her?\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I'm afraid it is what you did.\\n\\n He crosses close to the bars.\\n\\n RENARD\\n When I took her she was...promise itself.\\n So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\\n force. And you left her there, at the\\n mercy of a man like me\",\n \" (to Akakievich)\\n were you the one who allowed him down?\\n\\n Colonel Akakievich looks suitably stung. But Renard is\\n looking past him now, as with a quiet WHIRR, the BOMB raises\\n into view on a trolley. Renard's team is ready to move.\\n\\n RENARD\\n (to Akakievich)\\n Take him away, I don't want him around as\\n we move the bomb.\\n (whispered, to\",\n \"she used all that brilliance to get\\n revenge on her father, on me.\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I wanted you. I wanted you for\\n myself.\\n\\n He takes something out of his pocket. A small TRAVEL CLOCK.\\n He sets it.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Since you sent your man to kill me, I\\n have been watching time tick slowly away,\\n marching inevitably toward my own death.\\n Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow,\\n your time is up. And I\",\n \" AT THE ELEVATOR\\n\\n Bond fires at Renard, hitting his shin...\\n\\n WITH RENARD\\n\\n looking down at his shin, noticing the blood. Inconvenienced\\n but not in pain. He shuts the cage doors. Pauses only to\\n fire off half a clip at the SWITCH PANEL. Shreds it.\\n\\n Bond leaps to his feet, racing forward, firing -- gets to the\\n elevator as Renard disappears upwards with a smile. He POINTS\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \" They're\\n following a huge pipeline, passing a blighted petrified\\n forest of twisted iron: derelict oil derricks.\\n\\n Elektra gestures at the oil fields they're now leaving\\n behind. Receding into the distance, a DELTA OF ROADWAYS\\n perched on rusting stilts juts out into the sea.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n My mother's people discovered oil here\\n ninety years ago. The Bolsheviks\\n slaughtered them for it.\",\n \"Davidov and Gabor scanning the area as well. Elektra\\n speaks to the foreman.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Send the pipe around.\\n\\n FOREMAN\\n It will take weeks, cost millions.\\n Your father approved this route.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Then my father was wrong.\\n\\n The first time Elektra has asserted her own authority. The\\n foreman is surprised, angry. But he doesn't question her.\\n\\n She moves toward the helicopter, says to Bond:\",\n \".\\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\\n of coffee.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to Foreman)\\n ...they should have been in place two\\n days ago. That is the target my father\\n set.\\n\\n FOREMAN\\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\\n\\n \",\n \"After an exhilarating run, she stops on the edge of a huge\\n drop. Bond joins her. They look down at the snowy valley\\n below. A line of survey FLAGS visible through the middle.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n We're building from both ends. This is\\n where they'll meet. Fifteen hundred\\n miles from the Caspian to the\\n Mediterranean.\\n\\n Bond and Elektra stand on the mountainside, feeling like the\\n only two people in the world, when they hear:\",\n \"to it. Now we have a second\\n chance and this time we'll do it right.\\n When the other wells have all dried up,\\n she'll still be pumping her lifeblood to\\n the world. And this\\n (proudly, of pipeline)\\n Will be one of the main arteries...\\n\\n OMITTED 75-\\n\\n EXT. POV FROM HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n Bond and Elektra travel beside the vast pipe through\\n dramatic, beautiful, sc\",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n He's struck again.\\n (beat)\\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\\n\\n He moves toward her.\\n\\n BOND\\n I'm coming with you.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You do what you have to do, but I've\\n called in M. She's en route from London\\n even now.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\\n\\n\",\n \"huge SATELLITE MAP of the pipeline's meandering path.\\n\\n M\\n A woman?\\n\\n But before he can speak, ELEKTRA calls out, gesturing to A\\n DIM LIGHT flashing on a console in front of her.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n That's not right.\\n\\n A Technician comes over. Tanner too, followed by Bond and M.\\n\\n TANNER\\n What is it?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It's an observation and\",\n \"want to...talk to my\\n father.\\n (beat)\\n I loved him. I'm not sure he knew that.\\n\\n BOND\\n Is that why you want to finish the\\n pipeline?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Partially, yes.\\n\\n Her muscleman BODY GUARD appears, says briefly:\\n\\n GABOR\\n The jeep is ready, Ma'am. Will I be\\n driving with you?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n No, Gabor\",\n \"TRA\\n It is my oil! Mine and my family's!\\n\\n Her eyes are shining. She moves toward the view, gazing out\\n at this spectacular cradle of civilization. Bond works his\\n wristbinds feverishly.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It runs in my veins, thicker than blood.\\n I'm going to redraw the map.\\n And when I am through the whole world\\n will know my name, my grandfather's name,\\n the glory of my people.\\n\\n B\",\n \"POV FROM HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n Bond and Elektra travel beside the vast pipe through\\n dramatic, beautiful, scenery...\\n\\n INT. HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n Davidov and Gabor, in the helicopter, watch the jeep below.\\n\\n EXT. CONSTRUCTION CAMP, FOOTHILLS OF THE CAUCASUS MOUNTAINS\\n (CAPPADOCIA, THE VILLAGE OF ZELVE) - DAY\\n\\n The jeep reaches a break in the\",\n \"years.\\n A cloud of radiation the size of\\n Europe...\\n\\n BOND\\n (chilled)\\n Because an explosion like that would kill\\n all the other pipelines. There would be\\n only one way to get the oil out of the\\n Caspian and pump it to the world...\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n The King pipeline.\\n\\n BOND\\n Elektra would control it all.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n If what you say it true...it may be too\",\n \"ABOR AND ANOTHER SECURITY MAN SHOOT M'S TWO GUARDS IN THE\\n HEAD...point blank, cold blood. The men fall.\\n\\n M looks back at Elektra, a blood-curdling glare.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to her men)\\n Take her to the chopper.\\n\\n EXT. PIPELINE - DAY\\n\\n From on high we follow the snaking pipeline ... until it\\n disappears in a VAST, SMOULDERING B\",\n \"KTRA\\n You are wrong, Mr. Bond. In fact, I am\\n the only person who can do it.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. JEEP, TRAVELING - OILFIELDS - DAY\\n\\n Elektra drives the all-terrain jeep with casual assurance.\\n Bond is beside her, cold-weather gear in the back. They're\\n following a huge pipeline, passing a blighted petrified\\n forest of twisted iron: derelict oil d\",\n \". Including you.\\n (off his look)\\n That's why you're here, isn't it? You\\n think I can't do it. You think I'm going\\n to screw up. Or get myself killed.\\n\\n BOND\\n I think running this pipeline would be a\\n difficult job for anyone. Especially\\n King's daughter.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You are wrong, Mr. Bond. In fact, I am\\n the only person who can do it.\\n\\n \",\n \"ROOM - PIPELINE CONTROL CENTRE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n The room is quiet, tense. M and her two men, Elektra, Gabor,\\n the King TECHNICIAN and three armed security guards at the\\n doors. They are the only ones left. Going down with the\\n ship...if it goes. M and Elektra watch the two lights now\\n together on the console. A tense silence. Everyone's edgy.\\n Elektra perhaps a little more than the rest. \",\n \"to the region.\\n He married into the Vavra family, rich\\n local industrialists. He used those\\n connections to hold it all together.\\n\\n BOND\\n Kill the man, kill the pipeline.\\n\\n M\\n Not necessarily. Not with Elektra taking\\n over.\\n\\n Tanner notices a RED LIGHT start pulsing. He moves to M:\\n\\n TANNER\\n Your call to the PM.\\n\\n M nods grimly. As Robinson distributes sealed envelopes:\",\n \"oil than anyone thought.\\n\\n ROBINSON\\n Latest estimates, six trillion dollars.\\n It'll make the Gulf look like a puddle,\\n see us right through the new century.\\n The problem is getting the oil out of\\n there.\\n\\n M\\n There are four pipelines in the works.\\n Three to the Black Sea, shipping out\\n through the Bosphorus. All vulnerable to\\n unstable governments or Russian blockade.\\n\\n BOND\\n So Sir Robert's goes through Turkey,\",\n \"at\\n Elektra. But she watches him go...\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n The MI-6 helicopter swoops along the pipeline...\\n\\n Tanner is beside the pilot. Bond and Christmas in the back.\\n\\n They look at one another, the danger ahead melting the frost\\n between them.\\n\\n INT. PIPELINE - LATER\\n\\n Bond and Christmas climb through an access hatch down onto\\n the electric RIG. Its\",\n \" But you would have something to gain by\\n killing Robert King. And stopping his\\n pipeline.\\n\\n This hits Zukovsky. He closes down. A chill between them.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Poor Bond. The cold war is over. What\\n have you got left? Economic espionage.\\n Murder in the boardroom. So dull.\\n\\n Bond's eyes catch something, someone entering the casino.\\n\\n HIS POV: ELEKTRA...more vibrant than we have ever seen her\",\n \"matic getting\\n closer together. One of her MEN approaches, a radio in his\\n ear.\\n\\n RADIO MAN\\n Tanner reports Bond is headed for the\\n rendezvous.\\n\\n M\\n Excellent. Evacuate Miss King and the\\n others.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You can evacuate my workers, but I'm not\\n going anywhere.\\n\\n M looks at her, then nods, impressed by her courage.\\n\\n INT. PIPELINE (TRAVELLING) -\"\n ],\n [\n \".\\n Everything Elektra requires is here. Computer, phones, drinks\\n cabinet. She is in the middle of a group of workmen and\\n secretaries, looking at plans, talking, pouring herself a cup\\n of coffee.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to Foreman)\\n ...they should have been in place two\\n days ago. That is the target my father\\n set.\\n\\n FOREMAN\\n We've had some trouble with the villagers\\n at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot...\\n\\n \",\n \" my villa, some time in the middle of the\\n night and...\\n\\n M exchanges a look with Tanner.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n My head of security has been found near a\\n local airstrip, murdered...\\n\\n M leans on the console in front of her.\\n\\n M\\n I'll send someone out.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Could...could you come?\\n\\n M looks up.\\n\\n ELEKTRA, on the monitor, looks about as lost as she ever has\",\n \"\\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\\n HER POV:\\n\\n Big, battered and bloody, Valentin Zukovsky is leaving a\\n boat, moving over the rocks toward the entrance with three of\\n his men. Two bodies in his trail. He's on course for\\n Elektra and nothing is going to stop him, even as his\\n henchmen are cut down by feroc\",\n \"Military precision.\\n\\n Davidov's radio crackles out a message and he tosses the gun\\n back to Bond. They start walking:\\n\\n DAVIDOV\\n (pleasant)\\n Sorry about all that, comrade. Old habits\\n die hard. I am Head of Security.\\n Davidov.\\n\\n Bond eyes him, but is distracted by a jet coming to a halt\\n ahead of them.\\n\\n Stairs swing down and out steps ELEKTRA KING. Beautiful,\\n elegant. So out of\",\n \"'s on course for\\n Elektra and nothing is going to stop him, even as his\\n henchmen are cut down by ferocious fire.\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\\n\\n Elektra moves to her gun. Just then, Gabor crashes through a\\n stained glass window, neck broken.\\n\\n TWO ELEKTRA HENCHMEN appear from below stairs as the doors\\n burst open. Zukovsky stands there. A bloody giant.\\n\\n\",\n \"ovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\\n further, staring at Bond...\\n\\n A look passes between the two men. Comrades in arms. The\\n merest of smiles. Then the light fades from his eyes. Dead.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n\\n turns back to Bond. Smiles.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Excuse me.\\n\\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:\",\n \"ILLA - NIGHT\\n\\n Bond and Elektra emerge from the BMW. Behind them, Gabor and\\n Davidov get out of her car. Bond watches as Davidov slams his\\n door and marches off, angry, toward the SECURITY QUARTERS at\\n the side of the house.\\n\\n Bond and Elektra walk to the front door, anticipation thick\\n in the air. Gabor opens the door. Elektra sweeps through...\\n\\n INT. ENTRANCE HALL, ELEKTRA'S VIL\",\n \"\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\\n trying to kill me?\\n\\n BOND\\n You can drop the act, it's over.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I don't know what you're talking about!\\n\\n BOND\\n I think you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd\",\n \". It's\\n an exact duplicate. Inside is a tiny\\n electrical detonator. We have reason to\\n believe the assassin had an inside\\n accomplice, someone who worked at this\\n company.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n If you've come here to look after me, Mr.\\n Bond, thank you, but no thank you. I\\n have two bodyguards, I don't need a\\n third...\\n\\n She starts to walk out. He follows her...\\n\\n EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE\",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n He's struck again.\\n (beat)\\n Five men are dead at the pipeline.\\n\\n He moves toward her.\\n\\n BOND\\n I'm coming with you.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You do what you have to do, but I've\\n called in M. She's en route from London\\n even now.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EXT. PIPELINE CONTROL CENTER, TURKEY - DAY\\n\\n\",\n \"He holds her gaze for a long time before he looks away.\\n\\n BOND\\n I can't afford to.\\n\\n She frowns, slightly. Settles into his chest.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Don't worry. I know who you are.\\n\\n He holds her, eyes full of conflict, staring into the dark.\\n\\n EXT. VILLA - NIGHT - LATER\\n\\n The lights of a car pulling up at the security office by the\\n perimeter wall of the property.\\n\\n\",\n \"ep is ready, Ma'am. Will I be\\n driving with you?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n No, Gabor. We have a guest.\\n\\n Gabor glares at Bond before he leaves.\\n\\n BOND\\n Who is he?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n My bodyguard. He follows me everywhere.\\n He's decisive, vigilant. And he makes an\\n excellent omelette.\\n\\n BOND\\n How long has he been with you?\\n\\n \",\n \"safe here.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I don't want to be safe!\\n\\n BOND\\n I have to go to work.\\n\\n He starts toward the door.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Now who's the coward?\\n\\n He stops, his back up...then heads out the door.\\n\\n IN THE HALLWAY\\n\\n He passes Gabor, standing faithfully outside.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n EST. SHOT - EXT. CASINO\",\n \"BAKU - DAY\\n\\n Elektra works in her father's STUDY, illuminated by a halo of\\n light from a single desk lamp. Pictures of her grandfather\\n and father stare down at her from the walls. The wind BLOWS A\\n WINDOW open.\\n\\n She gets up, crosses the room, shutting the window. She\\n stands there, listening to the silence and then...\\n\\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\\n\\n She listens, a\",\n \"\\n hit. The Dealer gives her an eight. She reveals her cards.\\n\\n DEALER\\n Bust.\\n\\n He rakes in her chips. But Elektra is undeterred. She pushes\\n another pile forward as the next deal commences.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I like the deep end, James.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n INT. SALON PRIVE\\n\\n The HENCHMAN holds Davidov against the wall with his huge\\n fist around his neck.\",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n James. You can't kill me. Not in cold\\n blood.\\n\\n But Bond isn't wavering. Clutches Zukovsky's bloody wet gun.\\n\\n He heads up in the semi-darkness -- and suddenly swings to\\n his right, at an unexpected but familiar Voice:\\n\\n M\\n Bond --\\n\\n Bond kicks open a door and enters...\\n\\n M'S PRISON ROOM\\n\\n He fires at the lock on her cell door and f\",\n \"ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\\n dead? It's what you wanted.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (beat)\\n Of course...\\n\\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\\n\\n RENARD\\n He was a...good lover?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\",\n \"And he makes an\\n excellent omelette.\\n\\n BOND\\n How long has he been with you?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Since the kidnapping. Why do you ask?\\n\\n Bond takes something out of his pocket, he opens his palm,\\n shows it to her.\\n\\n BOND\\n Does this look familiar to you?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n It's my father's pin. He wore it everyday\\n of his life.\\n\\n She swallows back emotion. Looks in\",\n \"\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Excuse me.\\n\\n She picks up a walkie-talkie, speaks into it:\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Everything's under control up here. Are\\n you ready?\\n\\n RENARD\\n (filtered)\\n Yes. Au revoir...\\n\\n Lost for a moment, she breathes heavily. She glances at\\n Zukovsky's corpse. Slightly puzzled, to Bond:\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n\",\n \"and then...\\n\\n SHE HEARS A THUD. A strange, unsettling thud.\\n\\n She listens, a long time, to the silence.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Gabor...?\\n\\n She goes to the door, opens it...it whines on its hinges.\\n She steps into...\\n\\n INT. LIBRARY\\n\\n A big room lined with books. Three french doors lead out to a\\n balcony. She walks a few paces in...\\n\\n THE DOOR SH\"\n ],\n [\n \"on the ancient stone floor and\\n SPILLS OVER...the clock HITS THE GROUND and SKIDS across the\\n stones, coming to rest ACROSS THE ROOM, on the floor near the\\n window.\\n\\n M leans against the bars. SHE HEARS HER THE OUTER DOOR\\n CLANKING OPEN...\\n\\n She hurries to her cot and lies down.\\n\\n GABOR ENTERS...a burly shadow in the light from the hall. He\\n walks in. Looks at M. \",\n \"- MOMENTS LATER\\n\\n Elektra opens a heavy door, she and Renard past through to...\\n\\n A SMALL ROOM...a window set in the stone on one side. The\\n other side is divided off by a WALL OF BARS, creating a cell\\n which now contains: M\\n\\n The cell is bare, except for a camp bed in the corner. M\\n betrays no fear. A quiet defiance burns in her.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Just as I promised.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n She crosses her arms. Returns to pacing. Puts her hands in\\n her coat pockets:\\n\\n She feels something. Takes it out.\\n\\n THE LOCATOR CARD. Black and shiny, with two copper terminals\\n on one end.\\n\\n M taps it on her hand. She looks back out. TO THE CLOCK.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n INT. BEDROOM - MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - NIGHT\\n\\n Ren\",\n \"It is the beginning. The world will\\n never be the same.\\n\\n He lays the Captain's hat down. Tries to mask his sorrow.\\n\\n RENARD\\n It will be yours, and yours alone. Have\\n fun with it.\\n\\n Forces himself to leave, heads down the stairs.\\n\\n INT. M'S CELL - SAME\\n\\n M works quickly. She pops open the back of the clock and\\n takes out the batteries. She pries off the tops with a key\\n and connects the\",\n \"S TOWER - DEAD OF NIGHT\\n\\n Eerily quiet. The calm before the storm, except:\\n\\n INT. M'S CELL - SAME\\n\\n M is at the door of her cell. Her arm is stretched out\\n through the bars. She is using her high-heeled shoe to try\\n to HOOK the leg of the stool and drag it toward her. She can\\n only jut tap the leg with the tip of the heel. She swipes\\n out at the little three-legged stool,\",\n \"s in.\\n\\n BOND\\n King.\\n\\n M sees the seriousness in his eyes -- stabs at the intercom:\\n\\n INT. MONEYPENNY'S OFFICE, MI-6 - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Moneypenny's eyes shoot to the intercom console:\\n\\n M\\n (filtered)\\n Moneypenny, stop King leaving.\\n\\n MONEYPENNY\\n (flicking switch)\\n Security --\\n\\n INT. C\",\n \"IVE BODY BAGS are being carried out by soldiers. M surveys\\n the scene; in an unlit corridor CHRISTMAS JONES and several\\n men sweep the area with CLICKING Geiger counters.\\n\\n ELEKTRA is a distance away, listening to a Turkish policeman\\n explain what's happening. She nods acknowledgement to M.\\n\\n Tanner senses that Bond wants to talk to M alone:\\n\\n TANNER\\n I'll see how they're coming with the\\n power...\\n\",\n \".\\n\\n The soldiers get into the elevator and disappear, leaving\\n Bond completely ALONE.\\n\\n Dead silence in the shadows. Bond's in his element, that\\n alert glint in his eye as he takes in his surroundings.\\n\\n HIS P.O.V. A long, dark corridor...leading off to a more\\n open circle in the distance, lights and an ominous humming\\n there.\\n\\n Bond starts down the passageway.\\n\\n INT. TEST CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n Ahead\",\n \"M has seen it all.\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - BOSPHORUS - DAY\\n\\n He moves to the ledge. Composes himself -- and\\n\\n DIVES ONE HUNDRED FEET to the water. Amazing.\\n\\n EXT. SUBMARINE, BOSPHORUS - DAY\\n\\n He surfaces close to the exiting sub. Grabs a ladder, pulls\\n himself up.\\n\\n The hatch is closing... He splashes through the water\\n flooding over the\",\n \"in at an ancient tower in the middle of a vast\\n body of water (in fact, the Bosphorus).\\n\\n Renard disembarks with several of his retinue, heavily laden\\n with bags and cases. They enter the tower...\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n A fantastic space: stained glass windows cast myriad\\n patterns over elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars,\\n iron lattices, velvet drapes and flowers embroider the huge\\n room\",\n \" GABOR ENTERS...a burly shadow in the light from the hall. He\\n walks in. Looks at M. Picks up the clock and sets it ON THE\\n WINDOW SILL.\\n\\n He leaves, shutting the door behind him.\\n\\n M sits up. Looks out to the clock, glowing in the dark.\\n\\n IT READS TWO A.M.\\n\\n She drops her head back on the wall. She will not sleep\\n tonight.\\n\\n DISSOLVE TO:\\n\",\n \"holding\\n CHRISTMAS hostage as well.\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\\n\\n A magnificent ornate tower in the centre of the Bosphorus.\\n\\n An innocent-looking launch coasts up to it. A tarp is raised\\n and Bond and Christmas are revealed, hands bound. They are\\n helped out, led inside by a number of henchmen.\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\\n\\n Elektra crosses the hallway as the doors open. Kiss\",\n \"ROOM - PIPELINE CONTROL CENTRE - CONTINUOUS\\n\\n The room is quiet, tense. M and her two men, Elektra, Gabor,\\n the King TECHNICIAN and three armed security guards at the\\n doors. They are the only ones left. Going down with the\\n ship...if it goes. M and Elektra watch the two lights now\\n together on the console. A tense silence. Everyone's edgy.\\n Elektra perhaps a little more than the rest. \",\n \"sitting just beneath the\\n belly of the tanker. The silhouette of a SUBMARINE, hugging\\n the tanker's shadow, creeping undetected into the\\n Bosphorus...\\n\\n INT. M'S CELL - NIGHT\\n\\n M paces her cell. Looks out, at the clock:\\n\\n It is MIDNIGHT. Twelve hours to go.\\n\\n She crosses her arms. Returns to pacing. Puts her hands in\\n her coat pockets:\\n\\n She feels\",\n \".\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n They were digging near here and they\\n found some very pretty vases. They also\\n found this...\\n (meaning the garotte)\\n I think we ignore the old ways at our\\n peril, don't you?\\n\\n Bond recoils as she fastens the collar... She steps back.\\n\\n BOND\\n (ignoring her)\\n Where's M?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\\n\\n Bond\",\n \"\\n marching inevitably toward my own death.\\n Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow,\\n your time is up. And I guarantee you...I\\n will not miss. You will die. Along with\\n everyone in this city and the future of\\n the West.\\n\\n He places the clock on a tall stool, just out of reach\\n through her bars. He leaves. We hold on the clock:\\n\\n Eight p.m.\\n\\n\\n EXT. CITY OF WALKWAYS - BAKU - DUS\",\n \"plutonium. Renard takes the box as if it weighs nothing.\\n Stronger then ever.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n INT. CELL - MAIDEN'S TOWER - MORNING\\n\\n Elektra stands at the door looking in at M.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Now you know how it feels. To be locked\\n away, to wonder if they're coming for\\n you, if anyone will ever come for you.\\n\\n M\\n Someone will come.\\n\\n \",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n James. You can't kill me. Not in cold\\n blood.\\n\\n But Bond isn't wavering. Clutches Zukovsky's bloody wet gun.\\n\\n He heads up in the semi-darkness -- and suddenly swings to\\n his right, at an unexpected but familiar Voice:\\n\\n M\\n Bond --\\n\\n Bond kicks open a door and enters...\\n\\n M'S PRISON ROOM\\n\\n He fires at the lock on her cell door and f\",\n \"back.\\n\\n Elektra leaves. Renard is left alone with M.\\n\\n M\\n She's insane. Is that what you did to\\n her?\\n\\n RENARD\\n No. I'm afraid it is what you did.\\n\\n He crosses close to the bars.\\n\\n RENARD\\n When I took her she was...promise itself.\\n So clever, so vibrant, so...full of life\\n force. And you left her there, at the\\n mercy of a man like me\",\n \"wants to talk to M alone:\\n\\n TANNER\\n I'll see how they're coming with the\\n power...\\n\\n They watch him go. M turns to Bond:\\n\\n M\\n You had your hand on the bomb and you let\\n Renard get away with it.\\n\\n He draws her away, to a small alcove. Takes something out of\\n his jacket...THE LOCATOR CARD.\\n\\n BOND\\n The report King bought. It's a manual.\\n Renard'\"\n ],\n [\n \" ZUKOVSKY\\n Help me, don't let me drown.\\n\\n She looks to Bond -- sees he's serious.\\n\\n BOND\\n (to Zukovsky)\\n You're in this thing up to your neck.\\n\\n Zukovsky sinks alarmingly -- he talks rapidly, staccato:\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Alright, alright! Sometimes I smuggle\\n machinery for her. Russian stuff.\\n\\n BOND\\n And\",\n \"hew is\\n in danger, we do it my way, or nothing!\\n Now get me out!\\n\\n But he looks more worried than ever as Bond takes aim with\\n the harpoon gun -- squeezes the trigger.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n No! Bond!\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n (alarmed)\\n Bond!\\n\\n Bond fires. Zukovsky YELLS as the HARPOON SHOOTS TOWARD HIM.\\n\\n It takes him a moment to realize he hasn\",\n \".\\n\\n Bond looks at the pack he left on the ground...\\n\\n He grabs Christmas and HURLS HER TO THE FLOOR.\\n\\n KABOOM!\\n\\n A MASSIVE EXPLOSION rips the place apart. In half a second\\n the air is thick with coloured dust and drifting clumps of\\n burning silk.\\n\\n Bond stands. Christmas is stunned, but okay. He looks\\n around at the others - few dead, all out for the count, among\\n them, Zukovsky\",\n \"\\n\\n She walks over, puts her heel on his gun arm, presses down,\\n smiling a half-psychotic smile. The gun is pinned.\\n\\n Zukovsky is dying.\\n\\n But he dredges up every last ounce of energy to raise his gun\\n a millimetre off the ground, his outstretched arm already\\n pointing at Bond. Elektra looks surprised, then amused as\\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\\n to shoot Bond!\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n No. The truth!\\n (beat)\\n She thought I was dead -- those blades\\n were meant for you. What do you know\\n that she would kill you for?\\n\\n Zukovsky is sinking.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n I don't know what you're talking --\\n\\n Zukovsky sees Christmas appear beside Bond:\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Help me, don't let me drown.\\n\\n She looks to Bond -- sees he's\",\n \"onto a nearby walkway. The men\\n make their way toward the factory, firing at the guards.\\n Zukovsky and Christmas are forced inside.\\n\\n ANGLE ON BOND\\n\\n Who sees the danger to the others and runs off along the\\n walkways back to the factory. The Chopper follows him,\\n shooting.\\n\\n Bond outruns it, until, ahead of him A GRENADE EXPLODES,\\n destroying the walkway and hurling Bond into the water.\\n\\n EXT. FACT\",\n \" INT. CAVIAR FISHERY - CITY OF WALKWAYS - DUSK (OLD SC.176)\\n\\n Nailed on the battered old door, the lid of a caviar jar, a\\n label illustrated with a LINE DRAWING OF ZUKOVSKY. Zukovsky\\n opens the door and finds himself...\\n\\n Staring straight down Bond's pistol. Bond and Christmas are\\n silhouetted by the gold dusk light. At their feet lies one\\n of Zukov\",\n \", but okay. He looks\\n around at the others - few dead, all out for the count, among\\n them, Zukovsky.\\n\\n Bond heads for the door after the Boa.\\n\\n CHRISTMAS\\n Zukovsky...\\n\\n BOND\\n If I don't get to the Boa before he gets\\n to Maiden's Tower, M is dead.\\n\\n Bond runs out, into\\n\\n EXT. STREET - DAY\\n\\n Teeming with people, his\",\n \"OVSKY\\n Ah, I see. A purely...plutonic\\n relationship.\\n\\n Hands held clear of his body, Zukovsky enters, his evening\\n dress decidedly out of place here.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Really Bond, couldn't you find a nice\\n Russian scientist with hair growing out\\n of his ears?\\n\\n BOND\\n What's your business with Elektra King?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n I thought you were the one in her\\n\",\n \"The chauffeur is shot and killed. The gunmen then turn their\\n attention to Zukovsky and Christmas, when suddenly BOND\\n APPEARS through a trap door in the floor boards.\\n\\n Bond shoots one of the gunmen, then fires on the other...\\n Zukovsky grabs Christmas and they make their escape Bond\\n sees a third gunman firing from the basement and takes him\\n out.\\n\\n EXT. WALKWAYS - SAME\\n\\n Zukovsky and Christmas make a dash for Z\",\n \"horror:\\n\\n EXT. SIDE OF CAVIAR PIT (OLD SC. 199)\\n POV ZUKOVSKY:\\n\\n Bond appearing at the edge of the caviar pit, dragging\\n himself up, soaking wet. He's holding another harpoon gun.\\n Points it directly at Zukovsky. This time he really means\\n business.\\n\\n EXT. CAVIAR PIT/SIDE (OLD SC. 200)\\n\\n Zukovsky, on the point\",\n \"but it's too late. The\\n flames engulf it, igniting a fireball.\\n\\n IN THE WATER\\n\\n Zukovsky pulls himself back onto a walkway and heads for the\\n factory, but speeding at him are to FREE-FLYING SAW BLADES\\n from the chopper that has just exploded!\\n\\n OMITTED 231S to 231Z\\n\\n EXT. WALKWAY\\n\\n Zukovsky dives away -- into a CAVIAR P\",\n \"flatter the guests.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n That too. Everyone does what they can to\\n survive.\\n\\n BOND\\n How high up does this...arms dealing go?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Bond. If someone wants you dead, it is\\n Renard. Our government has nothing to\\n gain by killing you.\\n\\n BOND\\n But you would have something to gain by\\n killing Robert King. And stopping his\\n pipeline.\\n\\n This hits Zukovsky.\",\n \"What's your business with Elektra King?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n I thought you were the one in her\\n business.\\n\\n BOND\\n She dropped a million and half dollars to\\n the House -- your House. And you didn't\\n even bat an eyelid. She was paying you\\n off. What for?\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n As ever you are the spy who has to see a\\n plot wherever he looks.\\n\\n Bond SLAMS Zukovsky\",\n \" them turns to look back, unaware that she is on display. She\\n returns Bond's smile. Her friend turns to look. Bond's\\n smile grows: she has a small pistol concealed over one\\n breast.\\n\\n INT. CASINO NOIR D'OR, BAKU - NIGHT\\n\\n He looks over the lenses -- and spies someone on the fringes.\\n His old adversary, ex-KGB, VALENTIN ZUKOVSKY, talking to some\\n suspicious types. Zuk\",\n \"now above him...the chopper's relentless saws CUT\\n THROUGH THE PIPE...GAS JETS OUT...Bond HURLS HIMSELF up a\\n stairway.\\n\\n INT. CAVIAR FISHERY\\n\\n Zukovsky and Christmas watch in horror as Chopper One blades\\n away more roof above them.\\n\\n EXT. LOWER WALKWAY\\n\\n Bond takes something out of his pocket, a remote control\\n device...he presses some buttons...HIS C\",\n \"\\n out.\\n\\n EXT. WALKWAYS - SAME\\n\\n Zukovsky and Christmas make a dash for Zukovsky's Rolls.\\n They dive in...Zukovsky rams the car into reverse...behind\\n him, A CHOPPER SLICES the walkway to smithereens...Zukovsky\\n can't stop it as the car leaps backward and into THE WATER\\n BELOW....\\n\\n INT. FACTORY\\n\\n Bond finishes off the remaining two armed men in a\",\n \"on\\n flying skis, but they cannot afford to\\n pay the soldiers. The men, they do what\\n they have to do to feed their families.\\n In this country, for the right price and\\n a pack of cigarettes, you can get\\n anything you want.\\n\\n He notices Bond watching THE HOSTESS BAR...a dark alcove of\\n the casino, where slinky HOOKERS flatter the guests.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n That too. Everyone does what they can to\\n survive.\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n His old adversary, ex-KGB, VALENTIN ZUKOVSKY, talking to some\\n suspicious types. Zukovsky looks across. Bond walks toward\\n him.\\n\\n BOND\\n Valentin Zukovsky.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n BondJamesBond. What brings you here?\\n\\n BOND\\n You, of course. I need some information.\\n\\n ZUKOVSKY\\n Bond, I'm a civilian. This is my place.\\n\",\n \"231Z\\n\\n EXT. WALKWAY\\n\\n Zukovsky dives away -- into a CAVIAR PIT. The saws embed in\\n the cabin behind him.\\n\\n The caviar pit is like sinking sand, deep -- he's going\\n under. Flounders, trying to cling to a crate blown in there\\n by the explosion. Then he looks in horror:\\n\\n EXT. SIDE OF CAVIAR PIT (OLD SC. 199)\\n POV ZUK\"\n ],\n [\n \"ignoring her)\\n Where's M?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\\n\\n Bond keeps his cool:\\n\\n BOND\\n All this, because you fell for Renard?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Five more turns and your neck will break.\\n\\n She moves to the back of the chair, twists the screw ONE\\n NOTCH. The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\\n\\n \",\n \"BOND\\n Elektra, it's not too late. Eight\\n million people needn't die.\\n\\n She smiles, twists the screw again. A nasty, grinding sound.\\n Sweat trickles from his brow. She licks it away.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n You should have killed me when you had\\n the chance. But you couldn't. Not me. A\\n woman you've loved.\\n\\n She pushes her hips into his. Turns the screw. The bolt\",\n \"\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the man who's\\n trying to kill me?\\n\\n BOND\\n You can drop the act, it's over.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I don't know what you're talking about!\\n\\n BOND\\n I think you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Synd\",\n \"ive falls in love\\n with her captor.\\n\\n At the word \\\"love,\\\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\\n unsuspecting Bond hard across the face.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n How dare you! How dare you! That\\n animal!? That monster!? He disgusts me!\\n You disgust me! So he knew where to hurt\\n you, is that it? You had a sling on your\\n arm at the funeral! I didn't have to\\n sleep with you to find that\",\n \"ved window.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\\n\\n Bond ignores her.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n I could have given you the world.\\n\\n BOND\\n Not interested.\\n\\n This cuts. She casually reaches behind his neck, flips up a\\n wooden arm to which is attached a metal collar. A GAROTTE.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n They were digging near here and they\\n found some very pretty vases. They also\\n \",\n \"you do.\\n\\n He walks toward her, threatening...\\n\\n BOND\\n At MI-6 we call it Stockholm Syndrome.\\n It's common in kidnappings. A young\\n impressionable victim. Sheltered,\\n sexually inexperienced. A powerful\\n kidnapper skilled in torture, in\\n manipulation. Something snaps in the\\n victim's mind. The captive falls in love\\n with her captor.\\n\\n At the word \\\"love,\\\" Elektra explodes. She SLAPS an\",\n \"Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\\n carved chair, covered in silk.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (to guards)\\n Take her to Renard.\\n\\n Bond and Christmas exchange a look as the guards start her\\n towards some steps.\\n\\n Elektra indicates for him to sit. Behind him, the whole of\\n Istanbul is visible through a large curved window.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Pretty thing. You had her too?\\n\\n Bond ignores her.\\n\\n\",\n \"pares to turn it the last\\n time...His hand strains at its binding...\\n\\n BOND\\n One... last... screw?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (kissing his ear)\\n Oh James.\\n\\n She begins to turn the screw...\\n\\n ... when SEVERAL GUNSHOTS are heard outside.\\n\\n Bond is on the edge of consciousness.\\n\\n Elektra freezes. Gets off him. Moves to a window.\\n\\n EXT. MAIDEN'S TO\",\n \".\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n They were digging near here and they\\n found some very pretty vases. They also\\n found this...\\n (meaning the garotte)\\n I think we ignore the old ways at our\\n peril, don't you?\\n\\n Bond recoils as she fastens the collar... She steps back.\\n\\n BOND\\n (ignoring her)\\n Where's M?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Soon she'll be everywhere.\\n\\n Bond\",\n \"\\n alive, but unconscious. Elektra looks up at Bond.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?\\n\\n BOND\\n A little. Does it matter? After all,\\n what's the point of living if you can't\\n feel alive? Isn't that right, Elektra?\\n Isn't that your motto?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n Or did you steal it from your\",\n \"amused as\\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\\n to shoot Bond!\\n\\n Bond stares back. Zukovsky's eye narrows -- trying for\\n extreme accuracy...\\n\\n BLAM! The SHOT hits the binding at Bond's wrist. Splinters\\n the wood there.\\n\\n ELEKTRA stares at Zukovsky. She didn't see where the bullet\\n went, just that it missed Bond. She watches his head slump\\n further\",\n \"\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What are you talking about?\\n\\n BOND\\n Or did you steal it from your old friend\\n Renard?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n ...what?\\n\\n BOND\\n We had a run-in, he and I. He knew about\\n us, he knew about my shoulder, he knew\\n exactly where to hurt me...\\n\\n Elektra stands...she begins to tremble.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Are you saying...Renard is the\",\n \"saw me. You knew\\n it would be like this.\\n\\n BOND\\n Shush.\\n\\n Her hand dips in an ice bucket beside the bed. She rubs a\\n slither of ice down her chest, shudders with pleasure. It's\\n a move Bond hasn't seen before.\\n\\n Now she brings the ice to his shoulder.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Poor shoulder. Looks painful...\\n\\n She kisses his purple flesh. Licks.\\n\\n BOND\\n \",\n \" The effect on Bond is instantaneous as a bolt jolts\\n into the back of his neck, tilts his head back.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Since I was a child, I've always had a\\n power over men. When I realized my father\\n wouldn't rescue me from the kidnappers, I\\n knew I had to form a new alliance.\\n\\n BOND\\n (realizing)\\n You turned Renard.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (smiling)\\n Just like you...\",\n \" ELEKTRA\\n James. You can't kill me. Not in cold\\n blood.\\n\\n But Bond isn't wavering. Clutches Zukovsky's bloody wet gun.\\n\\n He heads up in the semi-darkness -- and suddenly swings to\\n his right, at an unexpected but familiar Voice:\\n\\n M\\n Bond --\\n\\n Bond kicks open a door and enters...\\n\\n M'S PRISON ROOM\\n\\n He fires at the lock on her cell door and f\",\n \"ances at\\n Zukovsky's corpse. Slightly puzzled, to Bond:\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n Zukovsky really hated you.\\n (beat)\\n Time to say goodnight.\\n\\n And she kisses him -- reaches behind to deliver the killer\\n twist...\\n\\n One super-fast movement:\\n\\n Bond's hand breaks free, grabs her throat, tight. He holds\\n her, their faces close together, disdain in his eyes -- hurls\\n her backwards, her hand\",\n \"\\n\\n INT. MAIDEN'S TOWER - DAY\\n\\n Elektra crosses the hallway as the doors open. Kisses Bond\\n on the cheek as she eyes Christmas.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n James Bond and his amazing resurrection.\\n If only you'd kept away, we might have\\n met again in a few years, become lovers\\n once more.\\n\\n Christmas eyes Bond anew as Elektra leads him to an ornately\\n carved chair, covered in silk.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n\",\n \"ings him. Elektra sits up, pulling a robe around her.\\n\\n RENARD\\n Why are you like this? Because Bond is\\n dead? It's what you wanted.\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n (beat)\\n Of course...\\n\\n Renard gets up. Paces the floor.\\n\\n RENARD\\n He was a...good lover?\\n\\n ELEKTRA\\n What do you think?\\n\\n Renard leans against her desk, closing his eyes, squeezing\",\n \"TRA\\n Poor shoulder. Looks painful...\\n\\n She kisses his purple flesh. Licks.\\n\\n BOND\\n ...needs constant attention...\\n\\n She slides her tongue back and fore along the groove above\\n the tendon. And he pulls the ice from her hand:\\n\\n BOND\\n Enough ice for one day.\\n\\n Tosses it across the room as passion takes over...\\n\\n INT. BEDROOM, ELEKTRA'S VILLA - LATER\\n\\n A p\",\n \"\\n\\n She walks over, puts her heel on his gun arm, presses down,\\n smiling a half-psychotic smile. The gun is pinned.\\n\\n Zukovsky is dying.\\n\\n But he dredges up every last ounce of energy to raise his gun\\n a millimetre off the ground, his outstretched arm already\\n pointing at Bond. Elektra looks surprised, then amused as\\n Zukovsky's finger begins to squeeze the trigger: he's going\\n to shoot Bond!\\n\\n\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["What makes Renard immune to pain?","Why does M order Bond to protect Elektra?","Where is Elektra's oil pipeline located?","Why did Elektra conspire with Renard to kill her father?","Who is the captain of the submarine?","Why does Elektra want to blow up Istanbul?","Who blows up the command center?","Where was Jones at when Bond was being tortured by Elektra?","Where is Renard killed?","Why does James Bond meet a Swiss banker in Spain? ","What does Renard have in his brain that is destroying his senses?","Who is Elektra?","Who is the traitor that works for Elektra?","Why is Elektra not as innocent as she seems?","Why does Elektra kill her father?","What would happen if Renard were to insert the plutonium into the Submarine's nuclear reactor?","Where does Bond and Renard fight?","What does Elektra torture Bond with?","Where does the submarine detonate? ","Where does Bond meet the Swiss banker?","Who is Bond getting money for?","How is Sir Robert killed?","Who kills the banker?","What is making Renard immune to pain?","Where is the pipeline being built that Elektra is overseeing?","Who is Elektra's head of security?","Where is M being held?","How does Zukovsky free Bond?","What does Elektra torture Bond with?"],"string":"[\n \"What makes Renard immune to pain?\",\n \"Why does M order Bond to protect Elektra?\",\n \"Where is Elektra's oil pipeline located?\",\n \"Why did Elektra conspire with Renard to kill her father?\",\n \"Who is the captain of the submarine?\",\n \"Why does Elektra want to blow up Istanbul?\",\n \"Who blows up the command center?\",\n \"Where was Jones at when Bond was being tortured by Elektra?\",\n \"Where is Renard killed?\",\n \"Why does James Bond meet a Swiss banker in Spain? \",\n \"What does Renard have in his brain that is destroying his senses?\",\n \"Who is Elektra?\",\n \"Who is the traitor that works for Elektra?\",\n \"Why is Elektra not as innocent as she seems?\",\n \"Why does Elektra kill her father?\",\n \"What would happen if Renard were to insert the plutonium into the Submarine's nuclear reactor?\",\n \"Where does Bond and Renard fight?\",\n \"What does Elektra torture Bond with?\",\n \"Where does the submarine detonate? \",\n \"Where does Bond meet the Swiss banker?\",\n \"Who is Bond getting money for?\",\n \"How is Sir Robert killed?\",\n \"Who kills the banker?\",\n \"What is making Renard immune to pain?\",\n \"Where is the pipeline being built that Elektra is overseeing?\",\n \"Who is Elektra's head of security?\",\n \"Where is M being held?\",\n \"How does Zukovsky free Bond?\",\n \"What does Elektra torture Bond with?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["A bullet in his brain that is destroying his senses.","he has a bullet in his brain which is destroying his senses"],["Because M believes that Renard may try to kidnap her for ransom again. ","He thinks Renard is targeting her for ransom."],["Azerbaijan","Azerbaijan"],["Because he used her as bait","She wants revenge on her father "],["Nikolai the nephew of Zukovsky ","Valentin Zukovsky's nephew, Nikolai."],["To make her own oil more valuable","To sabotage the Russian oil pipeline in the Bosphorus so that her oil would be very valuable."],["Zukovsky's underling Bullion","Bullion"],["On the submarine","in a submarine"],["in the submarines reactor","In the submarine's reactor"],["Get money for Sir Robert King. ","to retrieve money for Robert Kind"],["A bullet.","A bullet."],["Robert King's daughter.","The daughter of British oil tycoon Sir Robert King."],["Davidov, Elektra's head of security.","Zukovsky"],["Renard drops a hint that he and Elektra are collaborating. ","Jones drops a hint that he was conspiring with Elektra."],["Because her father used her as bait for Renard.","To get revenge for using her as bait "],["Destroy Istanbul and destroy the Russian pipelines thus increasing the value of Elektra's oil. ","It would cause a nuclear explosion that would destroy Istanbul."],["On the submarine's reactor","in the submarine's reactor"],["Garrote. ","garrote"],["Safely underwater. ","Underwater "],["Bilbao, Spain","Bilbao, Spain "],["Sir Robert King","Sir Robert King"],["By an explosion","An explosion."],["His assistant","His assistant."],["A bullet in his brain","Bullet in his brain."],["Azerbaijan","Azerbaijan"],["Davidov","Davidov "],["In the maiden's tower","Maiden's Tower"],["With his cane gun","With his cane gun."],["A garrote","Garrote."]],"string":"[\n [\n \"A bullet in his brain that is destroying his senses.\",\n \"he has a bullet in his brain which is destroying his senses\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because M believes that Renard may try to kidnap her for ransom again. \",\n \"He thinks Renard is targeting her for ransom.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Azerbaijan\",\n \"Azerbaijan\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because he used her as bait\",\n \"She wants revenge on her father \"\n ],\n [\n \"Nikolai the nephew of Zukovsky \",\n \"Valentin Zukovsky's nephew, Nikolai.\"\n ],\n [\n \"To make her own oil more valuable\",\n \"To sabotage the Russian oil pipeline in the Bosphorus so that her oil would be very valuable.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Zukovsky's underling Bullion\",\n \"Bullion\"\n ],\n [\n \"On the submarine\",\n \"in a submarine\"\n ],\n [\n \"in the submarines reactor\",\n \"In the submarine's reactor\"\n ],\n [\n \"Get money for Sir Robert King. \",\n \"to retrieve money for Robert Kind\"\n ],\n [\n \"A bullet.\",\n \"A bullet.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Robert King's daughter.\",\n \"The daughter of British oil tycoon Sir Robert King.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Davidov, Elektra's head of security.\",\n \"Zukovsky\"\n ],\n [\n \"Renard drops a hint that he and Elektra are collaborating. \",\n \"Jones drops a hint that he was conspiring with Elektra.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Because her father used her as bait for Renard.\",\n \"To get revenge for using her as bait \"\n ],\n [\n \"Destroy Istanbul and destroy the Russian pipelines thus increasing the value of Elektra's oil. \",\n \"It would cause a nuclear explosion that would destroy Istanbul.\"\n ],\n [\n \"On the submarine's reactor\",\n \"in the submarine's reactor\"\n ],\n [\n \"Garrote. \",\n \"garrote\"\n ],\n [\n \"Safely underwater. \",\n \"Underwater \"\n ],\n [\n \"Bilbao, Spain\",\n \"Bilbao, Spain \"\n ],\n [\n \"Sir Robert King\",\n \"Sir Robert King\"\n ],\n [\n \"By an explosion\",\n \"An explosion.\"\n ],\n [\n \"His assistant\",\n \"His assistant.\"\n ],\n [\n \"A bullet in his brain\",\n \"Bullet in his brain.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Azerbaijan\",\n \"Azerbaijan\"\n ],\n [\n \"Davidov\",\n \"Davidov \"\n ],\n [\n \"In the maiden's tower\",\n \"Maiden's Tower\"\n ],\n [\n \"With his cane gun\",\n \"With his cane gun.\"\n ],\n [\n \"A garrote\",\n \"Garrote.\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"dfc26addcd9cd2cf53ed6804445d8bc60668d316"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":33,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["is not in my line, and I\ndonât smoke. If I see a rat, you wonât stop; and if I go to sleep, you\nget fooling about with the boat, and slop me overboard. If you ask me, I\ncall the whole thing bally foolishness.â\n\nWe were three to one, however, and the motion was carried.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\nPlans discussed.âPleasures of âcamping-out,â on fine nights","â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\n\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\nput it straight.\n\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\nHarr","the bank, and one and a half moments\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\namong boat-hooks and sails and carpet-bags and bottles. The last man\nwent on twenty yards further, and then got out on his head.\n\nThis seemed to sort of lighten the boat, and it went on much easier, the\nsmall boy shouting at the top of his voice, and urging his steed into a\ngallop. The fellows sat up and stared at one another. It was some\nseconds before","the last two\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\nabout the matter, and also remembers that there was an unusually strong\nstream against them all the wayâlikewise a stiff wind.\n\nâAbout thirty-four miles, I suppose, it must have been,â adds the first\nspeaker, reaching down another cushion to put under his head.\n\nâNoâno; donât exaggerate, Tom,â murmurs Jack, reprovingly","CHAPTER II.\n\n\nPlans discussed.âPleasures of âcamping-out,â on fine nights.âDitto, wet\nnights.âCompromise decided on.âMontmorency, first impressions of.âFears\nlest he is too good for this world, fears subsequently dismissed as\ngroundless.âMeeting adjourns.\n\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\n\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\n","Harrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\nfamily-man puts up a picture.âGeorge makes a sensible, remark.âDelights\nof early morning bathing.âProvisions for getting upset.\n\nSo, on the following evening, we again assembled, to discuss and arrange\nour plans. Harris said:\n\nâNow, the first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery","upon\nhimself. I said:\n\nâNo; _you_ get the paper, and the pencil, and the catalogue, and George\nwrite down, and Iâll do the work.â\n\nThe first list we made out had to be discarded. It was clear that the\nupper reaches of the Thames would not allow of the navigation of a boat\nsufficiently large to take the things we had set down as indispensable;\nso we tore the list up, and looked at one another!\n\nGeorge said:","1} to follow,â I added, half\nunconsciously.\n\nâYes itâs almost a pity weâve made up our minds to stick to this boat,â\nanswered Harris; and then there was silence for a while.\n\nâIf we _hadnât_ made up our minds to contract our certain deaths in this\nbally old coffin,â observed George, casting a glance of intense\nmalevolence over the boat, âit might be worth while to mention that\n","ful appearance.\n\nâI should like to see him pull the wrong line,â murmured George, as they\npassed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed\nup the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen\nsheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars immediately left the boat on\nthe larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\namong boat","ed and discontented.\n\nHarris let the sail down, and then we saw what had happened. We had\nknocked those three old gentlemen off their chairs into a general heap at\nthe bottom of the boat, and they were now slowly and painfully sorting\nthemselves out from each other, and picking fish off themselves; and as\nthey worked, they cursed usânot with a common cursory curse, but with\nlong, carefully-thought-out, comprehensive curses, that embraced the\nwhole of our career, and went away","t get anywhere else. Whatever way they\nturned brought them back to the middle. It became so regular at length,\nthat some of the people stopped there, and waited for the others to take\na walk round, and come back to them. Harris drew out his map again,\nafter a while, but the sight of it only infuriated the mob, and they told\nhim to go and curl his hair with it. Harris said that he couldnât help\nfeeling that, to a certain extent, he had become unpopular.\n\nThey all got crazy at","liked, and have some people made to put in. For his part, he\nwas going back to the Stag.\n\nThe greatest minds never realise their ideals in any matter; and Harris\nand I sighed over the hollowness of all earthly desires, and followed\nGeorge.\n\nWe took our traps into the Stag, and laid them down in the hall.\n\nThe landlord came up and said:\n\nâGood evening, gentlemen.â\n\nâOh, good evening,â said George; âwe","\nâThey ainât a-going to cross the Atlantic,â struck in Biggsâs boy;\nâtheyâre a-going to find Stanley.â\n\nBy this time, quite a small crowd had collected, and people were asking\neach other what was the matter. One party (the young and giddy portion\nof the crowd) held that it was a wedding, and pointed out Harris as the\nbridegroom; while the elder and more thoughtful among the populace\ninclined to the idea that","was, in fact, _the_ boat,\nthe âdouble sculling skiffâ selected to take us on our trip down the\nriver.\n\nWe grumbled a good deal. We thought he might, at least, have had it\nwhitewashed or tarredâhad _something_ done to it to distinguish it from a\nbit of a wreck; but he could not see any fault in it.\n\nHe even seemed offended at our remarks. He said he had picked us out the\nbest boat in all his stock, and he thought we might","ering about the boat with\nthe lantern, looking for his clothes. He seemed to be worrying about his\nclothes all night.\n\nTwice he routed up George and myself to see if we were lying on his\ntrousers. George got quite wild the second time.\n\nâWhat the thunder do you want your trousers for, in the middle of the\nnight?â he asked indignantly. âWhy donât you lie down, and go to sleep?â\n\nI found him in trouble, the next","\n\nWe did our marketing after breakfast, and revictualled the boat for three\ndays. George said we ought to take vegetablesâthat it was unhealthy not\nto eat vegetables. He said they were easy enough to cook, and that he\nwould see to that; so we got ten pounds of potatoes, a bushel of peas,\nand a few cabbages. We got a beefsteak pie, a couple of gooseberry\ntarts, and a leg of mutton from the hotel; and fruit, and cakes, and\nbread and butter","balancing myself. You stand in the centre of the deck,\nand, as the ship heaves and pitches, you move your body about, so as to\nkeep it always straight. When the front of the ship rises, you lean\nforward, till the deck almost touches your nose; and when its back end\ngets up, you lean backwards. This is all very well for an hour or two;\nbut you canât balance yourself for a week.\n\nGeorge said:\n\nâLetâs go up the river.â\n","your pardon, really. I quite forgot.\n\nWell, we left the list to George, and he began it.\n\n[Picture: Tent] âWe wonât take a tent,â suggested George; âwe will have a\nboat with a cover. It is ever so much simpler, and more comfortable.â\n\nIt seemed a good thought, and we adopted it. I do not know whether you\nhave ever seen the thing I mean. You fix iron hoops up over the boat,\nand stretch a huge","in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâs idea of âlife;â and so,\nas I before observed, he gave to the suggestion of inns, and pubs., and\nhotels his most emphatic approbation.\n\nHaving thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all\nfour of us, the only thing left to discuss was what we should take with\nus; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said heâ","five a.m., when we all got up and had breakfast.\n\nThe second day was exactly like the first. The rain continued to pour\ndown, and we sat, wrapped up in our mackintoshes, underneath the canvas,\nand drifted slowly down.\n\nOne of usâI forget which one now, but I rather think it was myselfâmade a\nfew feeble attempts during the course of the morning to work up the old\ngipsy foolishness about being children of Nature and enjoying the wet;\nbut it did not go down well at all"],["soaked wayfarers hurried\npast, crouching beneath their dripping umbrellas, the women holding up\ntheir skirts.\n\nâWell,â said Harris, reaching his hand out for his glass, âwe have had a\npleasant trip, and my hearty thanks for it to old Father Thamesâbut I\nthink we did well to chuck it when we did. Hereâs to Three Men well out\nof a Boat!â\n\nAnd Montmorency, standing on his hind legs,","the bank, and one and a half moments\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\namong boat-hooks and sails and carpet-bags and bottles. The last man\nwent on twenty yards further, and then got out on his head.\n\nThis seemed to sort of lighten the boat, and it went on much easier, the\nsmall boy shouting at the top of his voice, and urging his steed into a\ngallop. The fellows sat up and stared at one another. It was some\nseconds before"," And when we had done that George wanted\nthe shaving tackle. We told him that he would have to go without shaving\nthat morning, as we werenât going to unpack that bag again for him, nor\nfor anyone like him.\n\nHe said:\n\nâDonât be absurd. How can I go into the City like this?â\n\nIt was certainly rather rough on the City, but what cared we for human\nsuffering? As Harris said, in his common, vulgar way, the City would\nhave","the last two\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\nabout the matter, and also remembers that there was an unusually strong\nstream against them all the wayâlikewise a stiff wind.\n\nâAbout thirty-four miles, I suppose, it must have been,â adds the first\nspeaker, reaching down another cushion to put under his head.\n\nâNoâno; donât exaggerate, Tom,â murmurs Jack, reprovingly","an hour of deep enchantment, of ecstatic\nhope and longing. The little sail stood out against the purple sky, the\ngloaming lay around us, wrapping the world in rainbow shadows; and,\nbehind us, crept the night.\n\nWe seemed like knights of some old legend, sailing across some mystic\nlake into the unknown realm of twilight, unto the great land of the\nsunset.\n\nWe did not go into the realm of twilight; we went slap into that punt,\nwhere those three old men","\nstop where they were, and he would come to them. They huddled together,\nand waited; and he climbed down, and came in.\n\nHe was a young keeper, as luck would have it, and new to the business;\nand when he got in, he couldnât find them, and he wandered about, trying\nto get to them, and then _he_ got lost. They caught sight of him, every\nnow and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see\nthem, and rush to get to them","ful appearance.\n\nâI should like to see him pull the wrong line,â murmured George, as they\npassed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed\nup the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen\nsheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars immediately left the boat on\nthe larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\namong boat","per and the bags, and the\ncoats and rugs, and parcels, and ran. The distance seemed more like a\nmile than half a mile, but we reached the place at last, and rushed,\npanting, into the bar.\n\nThe people at the beershop were rude. They merely laughed at us. There\nwere only three beds in the whole house, and they had seven single\ngentlemen and two married couples sleeping there already. A kind-hearted\nbargeman, however, who happened to be in the tap-room, thought we","City, so\nhe explained. Harris, who is callous in his nature, and not prone to\npity, said:\n\nâAh! and now you are going to have a hard time on the river for a change;\nchange is good for everyone. Out you get!â\n\nHe could not in conscienceânot even Georgeâs conscienceâobject, though he\ndid suggest that, perhaps, it would be better for him to stop in the\nboat, and get tea ready, while Harris and I towed, because getting tea","âGood evening, gentlemen.â\n\nâOh, good evening,â said George; âwe want three beds, please.â\n\nâVery sorry, sir,â said the landlord; âbut Iâm afraid we canât manage\nit.â\n\nâOh, well, never mind,â said George, âtwo will do. Two of us can sleep\nin one bed, canât we?â","it had\nfinished.\n\nâWell, and how many did you want it to go?â replied the constable.\n\nâWhy, nine,â said George, showing his watch.\n\nâDo you know where you live?â said the guardian of public order,\nseverely.\n\nGeorge thought, and gave the address.\n\nâOh! thatâs where it is, is it?â replied the man; âwell, you take my\nadvice and go there","and begin again. For the beginning again part\nof it there was not much enthusiasm; but with regard to the advisability\nof going back to the entrance there was complete unanimity, and so they\nturned, and trailed after Harris again, in the opposite direction. About\nten minutes more passed, and then they found themselves in the centre.\n\nHarris thought at first of pretending that that was what he had been\naiming at; but the crowd looked dangerous, and he decided to treat it as\nan accident.\n\nAnyhow, they had got something to start from","\nI was steering.\n\nAs we drew nearer, we could see that the three men fishing seemed old and\nsolemn-looking men. They sat on three chairs in the punt, and watched\nintently their lines. And the red sunset threw a mystic light upon the\nwaters, and tinged with fire the towering woods, and made a golden glory\nof the piled-up clouds. It was an hour of deep enchantment, of ecstatic\nhope and longing. The little sail stood out against the purple sky, the\ng","\ngrieved to hear men their age give way to temper so.\n\nBut it did not do any good.\n\nGeorge said he would steer, after that. He said a mind like mine ought\nnot to be expected to give itself away in steering boatsâbetter let a\nmere commonplace human being see after that boat, before we jolly well\nall got drowned; and he took the lines, and brought us up to Marlow.\n\nAnd at Marlow we left the boat by the bridge, and went and put up for the\nnight at the","and each one seemed to see his\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\nsilence, we dragged out and overhauled the Gladstone. We looked up the\nriver and down the river; not a soul was in sight!\n\nTwenty minutes later, three figures, followed by a shamed-looking dog,\nmight have been seen creeping stealthily from the boat-house at the\nâSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\nnor gaudy costume:\n\nBlack leather shoes,","him up and put him outside at two),\nwould meet us there.\n\nShould we âcamp outâ or sleep at inns?\n\nGeorge and I were for camping out. We said it would be so wild and free,\nso patriarchal like.\n\nSlowly the golden memory of the dead sun fades from the hearts of the\ncold, sad clouds. Silent, like sorrowing children, the birds have ceased\ntheir song, and only the moorhenâs plaintive cry and the harsh cro","about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâs friends,\nwho had evidently sworn never to forsake him, we drove away amidst the\ncheers of the crowd, Biggsâs boy shying a carrot after us for luck.\n\nWe got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\ntrain is going to start from, or where","towards us, laughing and talking together in deep\nguttural bass, a half-a-score of stalwart halbert-menâBaronsâ men,\ntheseâand halt at a hundred yards or so above us, on the other bank, and\nlean upon their arms, and wait.\n\nAnd so, from hour to hour, march up along the road ever fresh groups and\nbands of armed men, their casques and breastplates flashing back the long\nlow lines of morning sunlight, until, as far as eye can reach, the way\nse","liked, and have some people made to put in. For his part, he\nwas going back to the Stag.\n\nThe greatest minds never realise their ideals in any matter; and Harris\nand I sighed over the hollowness of all earthly desires, and followed\nGeorge.\n\nWe took our traps into the Stag, and laid them down in the hall.\n\nThe landlord came up and said:\n\nâGood evening, gentlemen.â\n\nâOh, good evening,â said George; âwe","s go in there! Letâs go on a bit further, and see if\nthere isnât one with honeysuckle over it.â\n\nSo we went on till we came to another hotel. That was a very nice hotel,\ntoo, and it had honey-suckle on it, round at the side; but Harris did not\nlike the look of a man who was leaning against the front door. He said\nhe didnât look a nice man at all, and he wore ugly boots: so we went on\n"],[", when he has succeeded in\naccomplishing this, his conceit becomes quite unbearable.\n\nHe came and sat down on things, just when they were wanted to be packed;\nand he laboured under the fixed belief that, whenever Harris or George\nreached out their hand for anything, it was his cold, damp nose that they\nwanted. He put his leg into the jam, and he worried the teaspoons, and\nhe pretended that the lemons were rats, and got into the hamper and\nkilled three of them before Harris could land him with the","venture his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\nshillings by backing him to kill rats against time, then I began to think\nthat maybe theyâd let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.\n\nTo hang about a stable, and collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs\nto be found in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâ","\nhad dragged him, growling and kicking, by the scruff of his neck, out of\na hundred and fourteen street fights; and had had a dead cat brought\nround for my inspection by an irate female, who called me a murderer; and\nhad been summoned by the man next door but one for having a ferocious dog\nat large, that had kept him pinned up in his own tool-shed, afraid to\nventure his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty","ades of that\nlobby.\n\nThe result of his first experiment seemed highly satisfactory to him, and\nhe determined to go on and make things lively all round. He sprang over\nthe poodle and vigorously attacked a collie, and the collie woke up, and\nimmediately commenced a fierce and noisy contest with the poodle. Then\nFoxey came back to his own place, and caught the bull-dog by the ear, and\ntried to throw him away; and the bull-dog, a curiously impartial animal,\n","; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye.\nCome on!â\n\nAnd he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout.\n\nThen, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp, and\nMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\nthen to","\n\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy; and if a trifle low, so\nmuch the jollier. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was\nan angel sent upon the earth, for some reason withheld from mankind, in\nthe shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-","the middle; a\nbull-dog, a few Lowther Arcade sort of animals, about the size of rats,\nand a couple of Yorkshire tykes.\n\nThere they sat, patient, good, and thoughtful. A solemn peacefulness\nseemed to reign in that lobby. An air of calmness and resignationâof\ngentle sadness pervaded the room.\n\nThen a sweet young lady entered, leading a meek-looking little\nfox-terrier, and left him, chained up there, between the bull-dog and","able to get him to stop long. I used to sit down and look at him, as he\nsat on the rug and looked up at me, and think: âOh, that dog will never\nlive. He will be snatched up to the bright skies in a chariot, that is\nwhat will happen to him.â\n\nBut, when I had paid for about a dozen chickens that he had killed; and\nhad dragged him, growling and kicking, by the scruff of his neck, out of\na hundred and fourteen street fights; and had had","that, perhaps, it would be better for him to stop in the\nboat, and get tea ready, while Harris and I towed, because getting tea\nwas such a worrying work, and Harris and I looked tired. The only reply\nwe made to this, however, was to pass him over the tow-line, and he took\nit, and stepped out.\n\n[Picture: Dog wrapped in tow-line] There is something very strange and\nunaccountable about a tow-line. You roll it up with as much patience and\ncare as you would take to fold up a new","market, and asked if it was a vestry\nmeeting; or, if not, who was being murdered, and why? Men came with\npoles and ropes, and tried to separate the dogs, and the police were sent\nfor.\n\nAnd in the midst of the riot that sweet young lady returned, and snatched\nup that sweet little dog of hers (he had laid the tyke up for a month,\nand had on the expression, now, of a new-born lamb) into her arms, and\nkissed him, and asked him if he was killed,","young lady entered, leading a meek-looking little\nfox-terrier, and left him, chained up there, between the bull-dog and the\npoodle. He sat and looked about him for a minute. Then he cast up his\neyes to the ceiling, and seemed, judging from his expression, to be\nthinking of his mother. Then he yawned. Then he looked round at the\nother dogs, all silent, grave, and dignified.\n\nHe looked at the bull-dog, sleeping dreamlessly on his right. He looked\n","\nhe pretended that the lemons were rats, and got into the hamper and\nkilled three of them before Harris could land him with the frying-pan.\n\nHarris said I encouraged him. I didnât encourage him. A dog like that\ndonât want any encouragement. Itâs the natural, original sin that is\nborn in him that makes him do things like that.\n\nThe packing was done at 12.50; and Harris sat on the big hamper, and said\nhe hoped nothing would","â asked Harris and I.\n\nâWhy that!â said George, looking westward.\n\n[Picture: The dog] Harris and I followed his gaze, and saw, coming down\ntowards us on the sluggish current, a dog. It was one of the quietest\nand peacefullest dogs I have ever seen. I never met a dog who seemed\nmore contentedâmore easy in its mind. It was floating dreamily on its\nback, with its four legs stuck up straight into the air. It was what","dogs, all silent, grave, and dignified.\n\nHe looked at the bull-dog, sleeping dreamlessly on his right. He looked\nat the poodle, erect and haughty, on his left. Then, without a word of\nwarning, without the shadow of a provocation, he bit that poodleâs near\nfore-leg, and a yelp of agony rang through the quiet shades of that\nlobby.\n\nThe result of his first experiment seemed highly satisfactory to him, and\nhe determined to go on and make things","in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâs idea of âlife;â and so,\nas I before observed, he gave to the suggestion of inns, and pubs., and\nhotels his most emphatic approbation.\n\nHaving thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all\nfour of us, the only thing left to discuss was what we should take with\nus; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said heâ",". At the first sound the\nkettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threatening\nattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and it\nup and spit at him.\n\n[Picture: Montmorency and the kettle] âAh! would ye!â growled\nMontmorency, showing his teeth; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty","caught the bull-dog by the ear, and\ntried to throw him away; and the bull-dog, a curiously impartial animal,\nwent for everything he could reach, including the hall-porter, which gave\nthat dear little terrier the opportunity to enjoy an uninterrupted fight\nof his own with an equally willing Yorkshire tyke.\n\nAnyone who knows canine nature need hardly, be told that, by this time,\nall the other dogs in the place were fighting as if their hearths and\nhomes depended on the fray. The big dogs fought","A\npeaceful dog.âStrange disappearance of Harris and a pie.\n\nMarlow is one of the pleasantest river centres I know of. It is a\nbustling, lively little town; not very picturesque on the whole, it is\ntrue, but there are many quaint nooks and corners to be found in it,\nneverthelessâstanding arches in the shattered bridge of Time, over which\nour fancy travels back to the days when Marlow Manor owned Saxon Algar\nfor its lord, ere conqu","sent up such a yell across the water that\nmade the night seem to shake in its bed.\n\nWe waited breathless for a minute, and thenâoh! divinest music of the\ndarkness!âwe heard the answering bark of Montmorency. We shouted back\nloud enough to wake the Seven SleepersâI never could understand myself\nwhy it should take more noise to wake seven sleepers than oneâand, after\nwhat seemed an hour, but what was really, I suppose, about five minutes,\nwe saw the lighted","I remember being in the lobby of the Haymarket Stores one day, and all\nround about me were dogs, waiting for the return of their owners, who\nwere shopping inside. There were a mastiff, and one or two collies, and\na St. Bernard, a few retrievers and Newfoundlands, a boar-hound, a French\npoodle, with plenty of hair round its head, but mangy about the middle; a\nbull-dog, a few Lowther Arcade sort of animals, about the size of rats,\nand a couple of"],["make love to Miss Smith and Miss Brown, who are\nplain and elderly, and havenât got any lovers? They themselves donât\nwant lovers. They never mean to marry.\n\nIt does not do to dwell on these things; it makes one so sad.\n\nThere was a boy at our school, we used to call him Sandford and Merton.\nHis real name was Stivvings. He was the most extraordinary lad I ever\ncame across. I believe he really liked study. He used to get into awful\nrows for sitting","ing him, jeering at him. They peppered him with stale jokes, they\neven made a few new ones and threw at him. They hurled at him all the\nprivate family jokes belonging to our set, and which must have been\nperfectly unintelligible to him. And then, unable to stand their brutal\njibes any longer, he turned round on them, and they saw his face!\n\nI was glad to notice that they had sufficient decency left in them to\nlook very foolish. They explained to him that they had thought he was\nsome one",":\n\nâI say, Tom!â\n\nâYes!â\n\nâHow have you got on?â\n\nâWell, to tell you the truth, my manâs chucked _me_ out.â\n\nâSoâs mine! I say, I donât think much of this inn, do you?â\n\nâWhat was the name of that inn?â said Harris.\n\nâThe Pig","\nand you find your head in the fresh air. Two feet off, you dimly observe\na half-dressed ruffian, waiting to kill you, and you are preparing for a\nlife-and-death struggle with him, when it begins to dawn upon you that\nitâs Jim.\n\nâOh, itâs you, is it?â he says, recognising you at the same moment.\n\nâYes,â you answer, rubbing your eyes; âwhatâs happened?â","tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\n\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.?â\n\nI said I generally preferred to sleep _inside_ a bed.\n\nHarris said it was old.\n\nGeorge said:\n\nâWhat time shall I wake you fellows?â\n\nHarris said:\n\nâSeven.â\n\nI said:\n\nâNoâsix,â because I wanted to write some",", and they\nstopped and watched him too. His back was towards them, and they only\nsaw his jacket and cap. From this they immediately jumped to the\nconclusion that it was I, their beloved companion, who was making an\nexhibition of himself, and their delight knew no bounds. They commenced\nto chaff him unmercifully.\n\nI did not grasp their mistake at first, and I thought, âHow rude of them\nto go on like that, with a perfect stranger, too!â But before I could\ncall","â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\n\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\nput it straight.\n\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\nHarr","that.\n\nThe packing was done at 12.50; and Harris sat on the big hamper, and said\nhe hoped nothing would be found broken. George said that if anything was\nbroken it was broken, which reflection seemed to comfort him. He also\nsaid he was ready for bed. We were all ready for bed. Harris was to\nsleep with us that night, and we went upstairs.\n\nWe tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\n\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.","You think he would be upset,â she queried, âif I gave a man a sovereign\nto take them away and bury them?â\n\nI answered that I thought he would never smile again.\n\nAn idea struck her. She said:\n\nâDo you mind keeping them for him? Let me send them round to you.â\n\nâMadam,â I replied, âfor myself I like the smell of cheese, and the\njourney the other day with them from Liverpool I shall ever",", and turned their lanterns on him\nand followed him about, and this had such an effect upon him at last that\nhe began to feel as if he really had done something, and he got to\nslinking down the by-streets and hiding in dark doorways when he heard\nthe regulation flip-flop approaching.\n\nOf course, this conduct made the force only more distrustful of him than\never, and they would come and rout him out and ask him what he was doing\nthere; and when he answered, âNothing,â he had merely come out for","shot up stream and sometimes he shot down stream, and at\nother times he simply spun round and came up the other side of the pole.\nAnd with every result he seemed equally surprised and annoyed.\n\nThe people about the river began to get quite absorbed in him after a\nwhile, and to make bets with one another as to what would be the outcome\nof his next push.\n\nIn the course of time my friends arrived on the opposite bank, and they\nstopped and watched him too. His back was towards them, and they only\nsaw his jacket and cap. From this","rout him out and ask him what he was doing\nthere; and when he answered, âNothing,â he had merely come out for a\nstroll (it was then four oâclock in the morning), they looked as though\nthey did not believe him, and two plain-clothes constables came home with\nhim to see if he really did live where he had said he did. They saw him\ngo in with his key, and then they took up a position opposite and watched\nthe house.\n\nHe thought he would light the fire when he got inside, and","him late at night, and practising\nround the square. But the inhabitants complained to the police about it,\nand a watch was set for him one night, and he was captured. The evidence\nagainst him was very clear, and he was bound over to keep the peace for\nsix months.\n\nHe seemed to lose heart in the business after that. He did make one or\ntwo feeble efforts to take up the work again when the six months had\nelapsed, but there was always the same coldnessâthe same want of sympathy\non the part of the world to","real thing, and only misleading. It was a country\ncousin that Harris took in. He said:\n\nâWeâll just go in here, so that you can say youâve been, but itâs very\nsimple. Itâs absurd to call it a maze. You keep on taking the first\nturning to the right. Weâll just walk round for ten minutes, and then go\nand get some lunch.â\n\nThey met some people soon after they had got inside","What did Tom say about those cheeses?â\n\nI replied that he had directed they were to be kept in a moist place, and\nthat nobody was to touch them.\n\nShe said:\n\nâNobodyâs likely to touch them. Had he smelt them?â\n\nI thought he had, and added that he seemed greatly attached to them.\n\nâYou think he would be upset,â she queried, âif I gave a man a sovereign\nto take them away and b","of\nchess. But even that did not enliven him: it seemed slow somehow; so he\ngave chess up and tried to read. He did not seem able to take any sort\nof interest in reading either, so he put on his coat again and went out\nfor a walk.\n\nIt was horribly lonesome and dismal, and all the policemen he met\nregarded him with undisguised suspicion, and turned their lanterns on him\nand followed him about, and this had such an effect upon him at last that\nhe began to feel as",", laughing heartily. âYes, they are the sort\nto give it _me_, to put up in _my_ parlour, if _they_ had caught it, they\nare! Ha! ha! ha!â\n\nAnd then he told us the real history of the fish. It seemed that he had\ncaught it himself, years ago, when he was quite a lad; not by any art or\nskill, but by that unaccountable luck that appears to always wait upon a\nboy when he plays the wag from school, and goes out fishing on",", carrying a huge bunch of keys in his hand that\nshook and jingled at every step.\n\nI motioned him away with silent dignity, but he still advanced,\nscreeching out the while:\n\nâIâm a-coming, sur, Iâm a-coming. Iâm a little lame. I ainât as spry as\nI used to be. This way, sur.â\n\nâGo away, you miserable old man,â I said.\n","and died\nhappy.\n\nAt that moment an angel came by in the disguise of a small boy (and I\ncannot think of any more effective disguise an angel could have assumed),\nwith a can of beer in one hand, and in the other something at the end of\na string, which he let down on to every flat stone he came across, and\nthen pulled up again, this producing a peculiarly unattractive sound,\nsuggestive of suffering.\n\nWe asked this heavenly messenger (as we discovered him afterwards to be)\nif he knew of any",", we could go and see that\ntomb. I donât believe heâs at the bank at all. Heâs larking about\nsomewhere, thatâs what heâs doing, leaving us to do all the work. Iâm\ngoing to get out, and have a drink.â\n\nI pointed out to him that we were miles away from a pub.; and then he\nwent on about the river, and what was the good of the river, and was\neveryone who came"],["\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for it,\nand nobody knew what had become of it.\n\nOur boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we\nwended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we\nstepped.\n\nâAre you all right, sir?â said the man.\n\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the","direction, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be the 11.5 for Kingston.\n\nâNobody will ever know, on this line,â we said, âwhat you are, or where\nyouâre going. You know the way, you slip off quietly and go to\nKingston.â\n\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, â","ston.â\n\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, âbut I suppose\n_some_ trainâs got to go to Kingston; and Iâll do it. Gimme the\nhalf-crown.â\n\nThus we got to Kingston by the London and South-Western Railway.\n\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo","he was\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\nthat he rather thought he was. Anyhow, if he wasnât the 11.5 for\nKingston, he said he was pretty confident he was the 9.32 for Virginia\nWater, or the 10 a.m. express for the Isle of Wight, or somewhere in that\ndirection, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be","had been very little good\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\n\nâWell, hang it all, Iâve done more than old J., anyhow,â rejoined Harris.\n\nâWell, you couldnât very well have done less,â added George.\n\nâI suppose J. thinks he is the passenger,â continued Harris.\n\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston,","the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnât they\ncouldnât say.\n\nThen our porter said he thought that must be it on the high-level\nplatform; said he thought he knew the train. So we went to the\nhigh-level platform, and saw the engine-driver, and asked him if he was\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\nthat he rather thought he was.","about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâs friends,\nwho had evidently sworn never to forsake him, we drove away amidst the\ncheers of the crowd, Biggsâs boy shying a carrot after us for luck.\n\nWe got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\ntrain is going to start from, or where","The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\nfrom the local.\n\nTo put an end to the matter, we went upstairs, and asked the traffic\nsuperintendent, and he told us that he had just met a man, who said he\nhad seen it at number three platform. We went to number three platform,\nbut the authorities there said that they rather thought that train was\nthe Southampton express, or else the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnâ","an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted\nanything.\n\nâWhatâs yours?â I said, turning to my friend.\n\nâIâll have half-a-crownâs worth of brandy, neat, if you please, miss,â he\nresponded.\n\nAnd he went off quietly after he had drunk it and got into another\ncarriage, which I thought mean.\n\nFrom Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded",",â observed George, casting a glance of intense\nmalevolence over the boat, âit might be worth while to mention that\nthereâs a train leaves Pangbourne, I know, soon after five, which would\njust land us in town in comfortable time to get a chop, and then go on to\nthe place you mentioned afterwards.â\n\nNobody spoke. We looked at one another, and each one seemed to see his\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\nsilence, we dragged out and over","Harrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\nfamily-man puts up a picture.âGeorge makes a sensible, remark.âDelights\nof early morning bathing.âProvisions for getting upset.\n\nSo, on the following evening, we again assembled, to discuss and arrange\nour plans. Harris said:\n\nâNow, the first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery","all right, sir?â said the man.\n\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the sculls and I at the\ntiller-lines, and Montmorency, unhappy and deeply suspicious, in the\nprow, out we shot on to the waters which, for a fortnight, were to be our\nhome.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\nKingston.âInstructive remarks on early English history.âInstructive\nobservations on carved oak and life in general.â","miles an hour. The wind still blew in his direction, and\nbefore we reached the end of the street he was laying himself out at the\nrate of nearly four miles an hour, leaving the cripples and stout old\nladies simply nowhere.\n\nIt took two porters as well as the driver to hold him in at the station;\nand I do not think they would have done it, even then, had not one of the\nmen had the presence of mind to put a handkerchief over his nose, and to\nlight a bit of brown paper.\n\nI took my ticket","wedding, and pointed out Harris as the\nbridegroom; while the elder and more thoughtful among the populace\ninclined to the idea that it was a funeral, and that I was probably the\ncorpseâs brother.\n\nAt last, an empty cab turned up (it is a street where, as a rule, and\nwhen they are not wanted, empty cabs pass at the rate of three a minute,\nand hang about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâ","That amused Harris.\n\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\nhalf-an-hour of it would kill him. Have you ever seen George work?â he\nadded, turning to me.\n\nI agreed with Harris that I never hadâmost certainly not since we had\nstarted on this trip.\n\nâWell, I donât see how _you_ can know much about it, one way or the\nother,â George retorted on Harris; â","it and got into another\ncarriage, which I thought mean.\n\nFrom Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded.\nAs we drew up at the different stations, the people, seeing my empty\ncarriage, would rush for it. âHere yâ are, Maria; come along, plenty of\nroom.â âAll right, Tom; weâll get in here,â they would shout. And they\nwould run along, carrying heavy bags, and fight round the door to get in","\nâThey ainât a-going to cross the Atlantic,â struck in Biggsâs boy;\nâtheyâre a-going to find Stanley.â\n\nBy this time, quite a small crowd had collected, and people were asking\neach other what was the matter. One party (the young and giddy portion\nof the crowd) held that it was a wedding, and pointed out Harris as the\nbridegroom; while the elder and more thoughtful among the populace\ninclined to the idea that","escaped destruction, and take them back to Jedo as ancient English\ncurios.\n\nAt this point Harris threw away the sculls, got up and left his seat, and\nsat on his back, and stuck his legs in the air. Montmorency howled, and\nturned a somersault, and the top hamper jumped up, and all the things\ncame out.\n\nI was somewhat surprised, but I did not lose my temper. I said,\npleasantly enough:\n\nâHulloa! whatâs that for?","ourselves; and he laughed pleasantly, and said that some\npeople made such a fuss over a little thing. But even he grew strangely\ndepressed after we had started, and so, when we reached Crewe, I asked\nhim to come and have a drink. He accepted, and we forced our way into\nthe buffet, where we yelled, and stamped, and waved our umbrellas for a\nquarter of an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted\nanything.\n\nâWhatâs yours?","âSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\nnor gaudy costume:\n\nBlack leather shoes, dirty; suit of boating flannels, very dirty; brown\nfelt hat, much battered; mackintosh, very wet; umbrella.\n\nWe had deceived the boatman at Pangbourne. We had not had the face to\ntell him that we were running away from the rain. We had left the boat,\nand all it contained, in his charge, with instructions that it was to be\nready for"],["ât had any dinner). It seems to suit everybody, however, which is\ngreatly to its credit.\n\nIt suited me to a âTâ too, and Harris and I both said it was a good idea\nof Georgeâs; and we said it in a tone that seemed to somehow imply that\nwe were surprised that George should have come out so sensible.\n\n[Picture: Montmorency] The only one who was not struck with the\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did","a pleasure. Sure you donât want anything,\nnow?â\n\nMONTMORENCY (_still backing_): âNot at all, thanksânot at allâvery kind\nof you. Good morning.â\n\nTHE CAT: âGood-morning.â\n\nThen the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\nan unimportant position in the","cy, who had evinced great\ninterest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and\nthoughtful air, reappearing, a few minutes afterwards, with a dead\nwater-rat in his mouth, which he evidently wished to present as his\ncontribution to the dinner; whether in a sarcastic spirit, or with a\ngenuine desire to assist, I cannot say.\n\nWe had a discussion as to whether the rat should go in or not. Harris\nsaid that he thought it would be all right, mixed up with the other\nthings","in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâs idea of âlife;â and so,\nas I before observed, he gave to the suggestion of inns, and pubs., and\nhotels his most emphatic approbation.\n\nHaving thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all\nfour of us, the only thing left to discuss was what we should take with\nus; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said heâ",". At the first sound the\nkettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threatening\nattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and it\nup and spit at him.\n\n[Picture: Montmorency and the kettle] âAh! would ye!â growled\nMontmorency, showing his teeth; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty","; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye.\nCome on!â\n\nAnd he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout.\n\nThen, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp, and\nMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\nthen to","â he exclaimed, indignantly.\n\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\n\nâStand still, canât you!â roared George, flying after him.\n\nAnd they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.\n\nMontmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorencyâs ambition in life, is\nto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he\nparticularly is not wanted","\n\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy; and if a trifle low, so\nmuch the jollier. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was\nan angel sent upon the earth, for some reason withheld from mankind, in\nthe shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-","mon, and he emptied that into the pot.\n\nHe said that was the advantage of Irish stew: you got rid of such a lot\nof things. I fished out a couple of eggs that had got cracked, and put\nthose in. George said they would thicken the gravy.\n\nI forget the other ingredients, but I know nothing was wasted; and I\nremember that, towards the end, Montmorency, who had evinced great\ninterest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and\nthoughtful air, reappearing","the clank of cutlery and crockery, and the\nsteady grinding of four sets of molars. At the end of five-and-thirty\nminutes, Harris said, âAh!â and took his left leg out from under him and\nput his right one there instead.\n\nFive minutes afterwards, George said, âAh!â too, and threw his plate out\non the bank; and, three minutes later than that, Montmorency gave the\nfirst sign of contentment he had exhibited since we had started,","venture his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\nshillings by backing him to kill rats against time, then I began to think\nthat maybe theyâd let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.\n\nTo hang about a stable, and collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs\nto be found in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâ","as for the gravy, it was a poemâa\nlittle too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious.\n\nWe finished up with tea and cherry tart. Montmorency had a fight with\nthe kettle during tea-time, and came off a poor second.\n\nThroughout the trip, he had manifested great curiosity concerning the\nkettle. He would sit and watch it, as it boiled, with a puzzled\nexpression, and would try and rouse it every now and then by growling at\nit","long day.\n\nThe order of the procession was as follows:â\n\n Montmorency, carrying a stick.\n Two disreputable-looking curs, friends of Montmorencyâs.\n George, carrying coats and rugs, and smoking a short pipe.\n Harris, trying to walk with easy grace,\n while carrying a bulged-out Gladstone bag in one hand\n and a bottle of lime-juice in the other.\n Greengrocerâs boy and bakerâ","morency, fitting what\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\nan unimportant position in the rear.\n\nTo this day, if you say the word âCats!â to Montmorency, he will visibly\nshrink and look up piteously at you, as if to say:\n\nâPlease donât.â\n\nWe did our marketing after breakfast, and revictualled the boat for three\ndays. George said we ought to take vegetablesâ","the boy with us.\n\nWe went to a good many shops, adopting this principle at each one; and\nthe consequence was that, by the time we had finished, we had as fine a\ncollection of boys with baskets following us around as heart could\ndesire; and our final march down the middle of the High Street, to the\nriver, must have been as imposing a spectacle as Marlow had seen for many\na long day.\n\nThe order of the procession was as follows:â\n\n Montmorency, carrying a stick.\n","âthe sort of cry\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\nafter his prey.\n\nHis victim was a large black Tom. I never saw a larger cat, nor a more\ndisreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears,\nand a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long,\nsinewy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\n\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of","a sort of\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-do-something-to-\nmake-it-better-and-nobler expression about Montmorency that has been\nknown to bring the tears into the eyes of pious old ladies and gentlemen.\n\nWhen first he came to live at my expense, I never thought I should be\nable to get him to stop long. I used to sit down and look at him, as he\nsat on the rug and looked up at me,","he wished he had not\ngiven way to it that morning.\n\nWe were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-way up the High\nStreet a cat darted out from one of the houses in front of us, and began\nto trot across the road. Montmorency gave a cry of joyâthe cry of a\nstern warrior who sees his enemy given over to his handsâthe sort of cry\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\nafter his prey","you are all three speechless, owing to having caught\nsevere colds in the night; you also feel very quarrelsome, and you swear\nat each other in hoarse whispers during the whole of breakfast time.\n\nWe therefore decided that we would sleep out on fine nights; and hotel\nit, and inn it, and pub. it, like respectable folks, when it was wet, or\nwhen we felt inclined for a change.\n\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy;","Further provision for getting upset.âI\npack.âCussedness of tooth-brushes.âGeorge and Harris pack.âAwful\nbehaviour of Montmorency.âWe retire to rest.\n\nThen we discussed the food question. George said:\n\nâBegin with breakfast.â (George is so practical.) âNow for breakfast we\nshall want a frying-panââ(Harris said it was indigestible;"],["evening, when the pipes\nare lit and the boys are telling stretchers about the dangers they have\npassed through, George brings it down and shows it round, and the\nstirring tale is told anew, with fresh exaggerations every time.\n\nHarris got off with merely a flesh wound.\n\nAfter that, I took the tin off myself, and hammered at it with the mast\ntill I was worn out and sick at heart, whereupon Harris took it in hand.\n\n[Picture: Flattened tin] We beat it out flat; we beat","him late at night, and practising\nround the square. But the inhabitants complained to the police about it,\nand a watch was set for him one night, and he was captured. The evidence\nagainst him was very clear, and he was bound over to keep the peace for\nsix months.\n\nHe seemed to lose heart in the business after that. He did make one or\ntwo feeble efforts to take up the work again when the six months had\nelapsed, but there was always the same coldnessâthe same want of sympathy\non the part of the world to","during the\nafternoon, and at one time it seemed to him that he had been eating\nnothing but boiled beef for weeks, and at other times it seemed that he\nmust have been living on strawberries and cream for years.\n\nNeither the beef nor the strawberries and cream seemed happy,\neitherâseemed discontented like.\n\nAt six, they came and told him dinner was ready. The announcement\naroused no enthusiasm within him, but he felt that there was some of that\ntwo-pound-five to be worked off, and he held","now. They told me he wur in the river, and I said Iâd have him, and\nso I did. You donât see many fish that size about here now, Iâm\nthinking. Good-night, gentlemen, good-night.â\n\nAnd out he went, and left us alone.\n\nWe could not take our eyes off the fish after that. It really was a\nremarkably fine fish. We were still looking at it, when the local\ncarrier, who had just stopped at the inn","brought out the mast, and George held the tin and Harris held the\nsharp end of his stone against the top of it, and I took the mast and\npoised it high up in the air, and gathered up all my strength and brought\nit down.\n\nIt was Georgeâs straw hat that saved his life that day. He keeps that\nhat now (what is left of it), and, of a winterâs evening, when the pipes\nare lit and the boys are telling stretchers about the dangers they have\npassed through, George brings it down and","ettle boils over, and puts the stove out.\n\nWe adopted this harmless bit of trickery, and the result was that, by the\ntime everything else was ready, the tea was waiting. Then we lit the\nlantern, and squatted down to supper.\n\nWe wanted that supper.\n\nFor five-and-thirty minutes not a sound was heard throughout the length\nand breadth of that boat, save the clank of cutlery and crockery, and the\nsteady grinding of four sets of molars. At the end of five-","the house of\na certain Mrs. Gippings. He said his watch went wrong one evening, and\nstopped at a quarter-past eight. He did not know this at the time\nbecause, for some reason or other, he forgot to wind it up when he went\nto bed (an unusual occurrence with him), and hung it up over his pillow\nwithout ever looking at the thing.\n\nIt was in the winter when this happened, very near the shortest day, and\na week of fog into the bargain, so the fact that it was still very dark\nwhen George","divided at Easter,\nbetween two boys and two girls who âhave never been undutiful to their\nparents; who have never been known to swear or to tell untruths, to\nsteal, or to break windows.â Fancy giving up all that for five shillings\na year! It is not worth it.\n\nIt is rumoured in the town that once, many years ago, a boy appeared who\nreally never had done these thingsâor at all events, which was all that\nwas required or could be expected, had never been","same moment.\n\nâYes,â you answer, rubbing your eyes; âwhatâs happened?â\n\nâBally tentâs blown down, I think,â he says. âWhereâs Bill?â\n\nThen you both raise up your voices and shout for âBill!â and the ground\nbeneath you heaves and rocks, and the muffled voice that you heard before\nreplies from out the ruin:\n\nâGet off","side, and some great Baron on\nhis war-horse, with his guard of squires around him, passes along to take\nhis station at the head of his serfs and vassals.\n\nAnd up the slope of Cooperâs Hill, just opposite, are gathered the\nwondering rustics and curious townsfolk, who have run from Staines, and\nnone are quite sure what the bustle is about, but each one has a\ndifferent version of the great event that they have come to see; and some\nsay that much good to all the people will come from",", and turned their lanterns on him\nand followed him about, and this had such an effect upon him at last that\nhe began to feel as if he really had done something, and he got to\nslinking down the by-streets and hiding in dark doorways when he heard\nthe regulation flip-flop approaching.\n\nOf course, this conduct made the force only more distrustful of him than\never, and they would come and rout him out and ask him what he was doing\nthere; and when he answered, âNothing,â he had merely come out for","thing, but I came over and sat on the edge of the table and watched\nthem. It irritated them more than anything I could have said. I felt\nthat. It made them nervous and excited, and they stepped on things, and\nput things behind them, and then couldnât find them when they wanted\nthem; and they packed the pies at the bottom, and put heavy things on\ntop, and smashed the pies in.\n\nThey upset salt over everything, and as for the butter! I never saw two\nmen do more with one-","\nstop where they were, and he would come to them. They huddled together,\nand waited; and he climbed down, and came in.\n\nHe was a young keeper, as luck would have it, and new to the business;\nand when he got in, he couldnât find them, and he wandered about, trying\nto get to them, and then _he_ got lost. They caught sight of him, every\nnow and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see\nthem, and rush to get to them","spent the evening with them.\n\nThey had a very jolly evening, and sat up late, and, by the time they\ncame to go to bed, they (this was when Georgeâs father was a very young\nman) were slightly jolly, too. They (Georgeâs father and Georgeâs\nfatherâs friend) were to sleep in the same room, but in different beds.\nThey took the candle, and went up. The candle lurched up against the\nwall when they got into the room, and went out,","wonderful oarsmen as Jack\nand Tom, and strain away harder than ever.\n\nWhen I was a young man, I used to listen to these tales from my elders,\nand take them in, and swallow them, and digest every word of them, and\nthen come up for more; but the new generation do not seem to have the\nsimple faith of the old times. WeâGeorge, Harris, and myselfâtook a âraw\nâunâ up with us once last season, and we plied him with the customary\n","sters brag away for a while, and then, during a momentary lull, he\nremoves the pipe from his mouth, and remarks, as he knocks the ashes out\nagainst the bars:\n\nâWell, I had a haul on Tuesday evening that itâs not much good my telling\nanybody about.â\n\nâOh! whyâs that?â they ask.\n\nâBecause I donât expect anybody would believe me if I did,â replies the\nold fellow","happened, very near the shortest day, and\na week of fog into the bargain, so the fact that it was still very dark\nwhen George woke in the morning was no guide to him as to the time. He\nreached up, and hauled down his watch. It was a quarter-past eight.\n\nâAngels and ministers of grace defend us!â exclaimed George; âand here\nhave I got to be in the City by nine. Why didnât somebody call me? Oh,\nthis is a shame","up the river. It stands on\nthe right of the bridge, quite away from the village. Its low-pitched\ngables and thatched roof and latticed windows give it quite a story-book\nappearance, while inside it is even still more once-upon-a-timeyfied.\n\nIt would not be a good place for the heroine of a modern novel to stay\nat. The heroine of a modern novel is always âdivinely tall,â and she is\never âdrawing herself up to her full height.","shouted in his ear,\nand he awoke.\n\nâWasermarrer?â he observed, sitting up.\n\nâGet up, you fat-headed chunk!â roared Harris. âItâs quarter to ten.â\n\nâWhat!â he shrieked, jumping out of bed into the bath; âWho the thunder\nput this thing here?â\n\nWe told him he must have been a fool not to see the bath.\n\nWe finished","vets, and fair faces. The large and spacious houses, with their\noriel, latticed windows, their huge fireplaces, and their gabled roofs,\nbreathe of the days of hose and doublet, of pearl-embroidered stomachers,\nand complicated oaths. They were upraised in the days âwhen men knew how\nto build.â The hard red bricks have only grown more firmly set with\ntime, and their oak stairs do not creak and grunt when you try to go down\n"],["about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâs friends,\nwho had evidently sworn never to forsake him, we drove away amidst the\ncheers of the crowd, Biggsâs boy shying a carrot after us for luck.\n\nWe got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\ntrain is going to start from, or where","\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for it,\nand nobody knew what had become of it.\n\nOur boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we\nwended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we\nstepped.\n\nâAre you all right, sir?â said the man.\n\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the","âSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\nnor gaudy costume:\n\nBlack leather shoes, dirty; suit of boating flannels, very dirty; brown\nfelt hat, much battered; mackintosh, very wet; umbrella.\n\nWe had deceived the boatman at Pangbourne. We had not had the face to\ntell him that we were running away from the rain. We had left the boat,\nand all it contained, in his charge, with instructions that it was to be\nready for","-five started\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\ntrain is going to start from, or where a train when it does start is\ngoing to, or anything about it. The porter who took our things thought\nit would go from number two platform, while another porter, with whom he\ndiscussed the question, had heard a rumour that it would go from number\none. The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\nfrom the local.\n\nTo put an end to the matter, we went","The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\nfrom the local.\n\nTo put an end to the matter, we went upstairs, and asked the traffic\nsuperintendent, and he told us that he had just met a man, who said he\nhad seen it at number three platform. We went to number three platform,\nbut the authorities there said that they rather thought that train was\nthe Southampton express, or else the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnâ","ston.â\n\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, âbut I suppose\n_some_ trainâs got to go to Kingston; and Iâll do it. Gimme the\nhalf-crown.â\n\nThus we got to Kingston by the London and South-Western Railway.\n\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo","he was\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\nthat he rather thought he was. Anyhow, if he wasnât the 11.5 for\nKingston, he said he was pretty confident he was the 9.32 for Virginia\nWater, or the 10 a.m. express for the Isle of Wight, or somewhere in that\ndirection, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be","ched, and was only wasting his time, he sneaked the cigarette\nthat I had carefully rolled up for myself, and went.\n\nThen Harris and I, having finished up the few things left on the table,\ncarted out our luggage on to the doorstep, and waited for a cab.\n\n [Picture: The luggage]\n\nThere seemed a good deal of luggage, when we put it all together. There\nwas the Gladstone and the small hand-bag, and the two hampers, and a\nlarge roll of rugs, and some four","and each one seemed to see his\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\nsilence, we dragged out and overhauled the Gladstone. We looked up the\nriver and down the river; not a soul was in sight!\n\nTwenty minutes later, three figures, followed by a shamed-looking dog,\nmight have been seen creeping stealthily from the boat-house at the\nâSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\nnor gaudy costume:\n\nBlack leather shoes,","sniffing, and, at the third sniff, they caught\nit right on the chest, and rose up without another word and went out.\nAnd then a stout lady got up, and said it was disgraceful that a\nrespectable married woman should be harried about in this way, and\ngathered up a bag and eight parcels and went. The remaining four\npassengers sat on for a while, until a solemn-looking man in the corner,\nwho, from his dress and general appearance, seemed to belong to the\nundertaker class, said it put him in","Harrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\nfamily-man puts up a picture.âGeorge makes a sensible, remark.âDelights\nof early morning bathing.âProvisions for getting upset.\n\nSo, on the following evening, we again assembled, to discuss and arrange\nour plans. Harris said:\n\nâNow, the first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery","an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted\nanything.\n\nâWhatâs yours?â I said, turning to my friend.\n\nâIâll have half-a-crownâs worth of brandy, neat, if you please, miss,â he\nresponded.\n\nAnd he went off quietly after he had drunk it and got into another\ncarriage, which I thought mean.\n\nFrom Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded","miles an hour. The wind still blew in his direction, and\nbefore we reached the end of the street he was laying himself out at the\nrate of nearly four miles an hour, leaving the cripples and stout old\nladies simply nowhere.\n\nIt took two porters as well as the driver to hold him in at the station;\nand I do not think they would have done it, even then, had not one of the\nmen had the presence of mind to put a handkerchief over his nose, and to\nlight a bit of brown paper.\n\nI took my ticket",",â observed George, casting a glance of intense\nmalevolence over the boat, âit might be worth while to mention that\nthereâs a train leaves Pangbourne, I know, soon after five, which would\njust land us in town in comfortable time to get a chop, and then go on to\nthe place you mentioned afterwards.â\n\nNobody spoke. We looked at one another, and each one seemed to see his\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\nsilence, we dragged out and over","wedding, and pointed out Harris as the\nbridegroom; while the elder and more thoughtful among the populace\ninclined to the idea that it was a funeral, and that I was probably the\ncorpseâs brother.\n\nAt last, an empty cab turned up (it is a street where, as a rule, and\nwhen they are not wanted, empty cabs pass at the rate of three a minute,\nand hang about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâ","\nâThey ainât a-going to cross the Atlantic,â struck in Biggsâs boy;\nâtheyâre a-going to find Stanley.â\n\nBy this time, quite a small crowd had collected, and people were asking\neach other what was the matter. One party (the young and giddy portion\nof the crowd) held that it was a wedding, and pointed out Harris as the\nbridegroom; while the elder and more thoughtful among the populace\ninclined to the idea that","the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnât they\ncouldnât say.\n\nThen our porter said he thought that must be it on the high-level\nplatform; said he thought he knew the train. So we went to the\nhigh-level platform, and saw the engine-driver, and asked him if he was\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\nthat he rather thought he was.","that.\n\nThe packing was done at 12.50; and Harris sat on the big hamper, and said\nhe hoped nothing would be found broken. George said that if anything was\nbroken it was broken, which reflection seemed to comfort him. He also\nsaid he was ready for bed. We were all ready for bed. Harris was to\nsleep with us that night, and we went upstairs.\n\nWe tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\n\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.","it and got into another\ncarriage, which I thought mean.\n\nFrom Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded.\nAs we drew up at the different stations, the people, seeing my empty\ncarriage, would rush for it. âHere yâ are, Maria; come along, plenty of\nroom.â âAll right, Tom; weâll get in here,â they would shout. And they\nwould run along, carrying heavy bags, and fight round the door to get in","s go in there! Letâs go on a bit further, and see if\nthere isnât one with honeysuckle over it.â\n\nSo we went on till we came to another hotel. That was a very nice hotel,\ntoo, and it had honey-suckle on it, round at the side; but Harris did not\nlike the look of a man who was leaning against the front door. He said\nhe didnât look a nice man at all, and he wore ugly boots: so we went on\n"],["That amused Harris.\n\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\nhalf-an-hour of it would kill him. Have you ever seen George work?â he\nadded, turning to me.\n\nI agreed with Harris that I never hadâmost certainly not since we had\nstarted on this trip.\n\nâWell, I donât see how _you_ can know much about it, one way or the\nother,â George retorted on Harris; â","Harrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\nfamily-man puts up a picture.âGeorge makes a sensible, remark.âDelights\nof early morning bathing.âProvisions for getting upset.\n\nSo, on the following evening, we again assembled, to discuss and arrange\nour plans. Harris said:\n\nâNow, the first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery","this lumbering old top-heavy\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\nGeorge come and do some work? Why couldnât he have got the day off, and\ncome down with us? Bank be blowed! What good was he at the bank?\n\nâI never see him doing any work there,â continued Harris, âwhenever I go\nin. He sits behind a bit of glass all day, trying to look as if he was\ndoing something.",".\n\nâAinât you going to put the boots in?â said Harris.\n\nAnd I looked round, and found I had forgotten them. Thatâs just like\nHarris. He couldnât have said a word until Iâd got the bag shut and\nstrapped, of course. And George laughedâone of those irritating,\nsenseless, chuckle-headed, crack-jawed laughs of his. They do make me so\nwild.\n\nI","him. George, on the other hand, ridiculed the idea of\nHarrisâs having done anything more than eat and sleep, and had a\ncast-iron opinion that it was heâGeorge himselfâwho had done all the\nlabour worth speaking of.\n\nHe said he had never been out with such a couple of lazily skulks as\nHarris and I.\n\nThat amused Harris.\n\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\nhalf","first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery catalogue,\nGeorge, and somebody give me a bit of pencil, and then Iâll make out a\nlist.â\n\nThatâs Harris all overâso ready to take the burden of everything himself,\nand put it on the backs of other people.\n\nHe always reminds me of my poor Uncle Podger. You never saw such a\ncommotion up and down a house, in","â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\n\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\nput it straight.\n\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\nHarr","ât see how _you_ can know much about it, one way or the\nother,â George retorted on Harris; âfor Iâm blest if you havenât been\nasleep half the time. Have you ever seen Harris fully awake, except at\nmeal-time?â asked George, addressing me.\n\nTruth compelled me to support George. Harris had been very little good\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\n\nâWell, hang it all,","m., and\nthen there remained the hampers to do. Harris said that we should be\nwanting to start in less than twelve hoursâ time, and thought that he and\nGeorge had better do the rest; and I agreed and sat down, and they had a\ngo.\n\nThey began in a light-hearted spirit, evidently intending to show me how\nto do it. I made no comment; I only waited. When George is hanged,\nHarris will be the worst packer in this world; and I looked at the piles\n","had been very little good\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\n\nâWell, hang it all, Iâve done more than old J., anyhow,â rejoined Harris.\n\nâWell, you couldnât very well have done less,â added George.\n\nâI suppose J. thinks he is the passenger,â continued Harris.\n\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston,","said he\nwouldnât have joined if it hadnât been for the idea of seeing Mrs.\nThomasâs tomb.\n\nI reminded him of George, and how we had to get the boat up to Shepperton\nby five oâclock to meet him, and then he went for George. Why was George\nto fool about all day, and leave us to lug this lumbering old top-heavy\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\nGe","tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\n\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.?â\n\nI said I generally preferred to sleep _inside_ a bed.\n\nHarris said it was old.\n\nGeorge said:\n\nâWhat time shall I wake you fellows?â\n\nHarris said:\n\nâSeven.â\n\nI said:\n\nâNoâsix,â because I wanted to write some","felt thirsty (I never knew George\nwhen he didnât); and, as I had a presentiment that a little whisky, warm,\nwith a slice of lemon, would do my complaint good, the debate was, by\ncommon assent, adjourned to the following night; and the assembly put on\nits hats and went out.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n\nArrangements settled.âHarrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\nfamily-man puts up a picture.â","\nWe had been sitting huddled up in our rugs while George had been telling\nme this true story, and on his finishing it I set to work to wake up\nHarris with a scull. The third prod did it: and he turned over on the\nother side, and said he would be down in a minute, and that he would have\nhis lace-up boots. We soon let him know where he was, however, by the\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\nbeen sleeping the sleep of","the vision faded, and the knight, kneeling upon the ground, thanked\nthe good saint who into that sad wood had strayed his steps, so he had\nseen the vision that lay there hid.\n\nAnd the name of the dark forest was Sorrow; but of the vision that the\ngood knight saw therein we may not speak nor tell.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n\nHow George, once upon a time, got up early in the morning.âGeorge,\nHarris, and Montmorency do not like the look of the cold","floor, and sat round and looked\nat it.\n\nI said Iâd pack.\n\nI rather pride myself on my packing. Packing is one of those many things\nthat I feel I know more about than any other person living. (It\nsurprises me myself, sometimes, how many of these subjects there are.) I\nimpressed the fact upon George and Harris, and told them that they had\nbetter leave the whole matter entirely to me. They fell into the\nsuggestion with a readiness that had something uncanny about it. George\nput","that.\n\nThe packing was done at 12.50; and Harris sat on the big hamper, and said\nhe hoped nothing would be found broken. George said that if anything was\nbroken it was broken, which reflection seemed to comfort him. He also\nsaid he was ready for bed. We were all ready for bed. Harris was to\nsleep with us that night, and we went upstairs.\n\nWe tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\n\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.","out on what we had determined should be a good dayâs journey.\n\nWe agreed that we would pull this morning, as a change from towing; and\nHarris thought the best arrangement would be that George and I should\nscull, and he steer. I did not chime in with this idea at all; I said I\nthought Harris would have been showing a more proper spirit if he had\nsuggested that he and George should work, and let me rest a bit. It\nseemed to me that I was doing more than my fair share of the work"," And when we had done that George wanted\nthe shaving tackle. We told him that he would have to go without shaving\nthat morning, as we werenât going to unpack that bag again for him, nor\nfor anyone like him.\n\nHe said:\n\nâDonât be absurd. How can I go into the City like this?â\n\nIt was certainly rather rough on the City, but what cared we for human\nsuffering? As Harris said, in his common, vulgar way, the City would\nhave","that we should get up early in the morning, fling off\nour rugs and shawls, and, throwing back the canvas, spring into the river\nwith a joyous shout, and revel in a long delicious swim. Somehow, now\nthe morning had come, the notion seemed less tempting. The water looked\ndamp and chilly: the wind felt cold.\n\nâWell, whoâs going to be first in?â said Harris at last.\n\nThere was no rush for precedence. George settled the matter so far as he\n"],["\n\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy; and if a trifle low, so\nmuch the jollier. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was\nan angel sent upon the earth, for some reason withheld from mankind, in\nthe shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-",". At the first sound the\nkettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threatening\nattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and it\nup and spit at him.\n\n[Picture: Montmorency and the kettle] âAh! would ye!â growled\nMontmorency, showing his teeth; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty","venture his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\nshillings by backing him to kill rats against time, then I began to think\nthat maybe theyâd let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.\n\nTo hang about a stable, and collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs\nto be found in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâ","; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye.\nCome on!â\n\nAnd he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout.\n\nThen, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp, and\nMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\nthen to","âthe sort of cry\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\nafter his prey.\n\nHis victim was a large black Tom. I never saw a larger cat, nor a more\ndisreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears,\nand a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long,\nsinewy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\n\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of","â he exclaimed, indignantly.\n\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\n\nâStand still, canât you!â roared George, flying after him.\n\nAnd they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.\n\nMontmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorencyâs ambition in life, is\nto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he\nparticularly is not wanted","up its tail in a rigid,\ncast-iron manner, arches its back, and wipes its nose up against my\ntrousers; and all is gentleness and peace. When Montmorency meets a cat,\nthe whole street knows about it; and there is enough bad language wasted\nin ten seconds to last an ordinarily respectable man all his life, with\ncare.\n\nI do not blame the dog (contenting myself, as a rule, with merely\nclouting his head or throwing stones at him), because I take it that it\nis his nature. Fox","this disgraceful scene!â\n\nShe said that the people at the Stores had no right to allow great savage\nthings like those other dogs to be put with respectable peopleâs dogs,\nand that she had a great mind to summon somebody.\n\nSuch is the nature of fox-terriers; and, therefore, I do not blame\nMontmorency for his tendency to row with cats; but he wished he had not\ngiven way to it that morning.\n\nWe were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-","the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\nthen to bury his nose in a bit of cool mud.\n\nFrom that day Montmorency regarded the kettle with a mixture of awe,\nsuspicion, and hate. Whenever he saw it he would growl and back at a\nrapid rate, with his tail shut down, and the moment it was put upon the\nstove he would promptly climb out of the boat, and sit on the bank, till\nthe whole","ât had any dinner). It seems to suit everybody, however, which is\ngreatly to its credit.\n\nIt suited me to a âTâ too, and Harris and I both said it was a good idea\nof Georgeâs; and we said it in a tone that seemed to somehow imply that\nwe were surprised that George should have come out so sensible.\n\n[Picture: Montmorency] The only one who was not struck with the\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did","in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâs idea of âlife;â and so,\nas I before observed, he gave to the suggestion of inns, and pubs., and\nhotels his most emphatic approbation.\n\nHaving thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all\nfour of us, the only thing left to discuss was what we should take with\nus; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said heâ","he wished he had not\ngiven way to it that morning.\n\nWe were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-way up the High\nStreet a cat darted out from one of the houses in front of us, and began\nto trot across the road. Montmorency gave a cry of joyâthe cry of a\nstern warrior who sees his enemy given over to his handsâthe sort of cry\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\nafter his prey","a sort of\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-do-something-to-\nmake-it-better-and-nobler expression about Montmorency that has been\nknown to bring the tears into the eyes of pious old ladies and gentlemen.\n\nWhen first he came to live at my expense, I never thought I should be\nable to get him to stop long. I used to sit down and look at him, as he\nsat on the rug and looked up at me,",".âAnother wet\nday.âFlight.âA little supper and a toast.\n\n[Picture: Dog running] We spent two very pleasant days at Oxford. There\nare plenty of dogs in the town of Oxford. Montmorency had eleven fights\non the first day, and fourteen on the second, and evidently thought he\nhad got to heaven.\n\n[Picture: Dogs fighting] Among folk too constitutionally weak, or too\nconstitutionally lazy, whichever it may be, to relish up-stream work","wy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\n\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of twenty miles an hour;\nbut the cat did not hurry upâdid not seem to have grasped the idea that\nits life was in danger. It trotted quietly on until its would-be\nassassin was within a yard of it, and then it turned round and sat down\nin the middle of the road, and looked at Montmorency with a gentle,\ninquiring expression, that said:\n\nâ","river, to get a little practice, but it\nwas never a success. Harrisâs language used to be enough to unnerve any\nman; added to which, Montmorency would sit and howl steadily, right\nthrough the performance. It was not giving the man a fair chance.\n\nâWhatâs he want to howl like that for when Iâm playing?â George would\nexclaim indignantly, while taking aim at him with a boot.\n\nâWhat do you want to play like that","a pleasure. Sure you donât want anything,\nnow?â\n\nMONTMORENCY (_still backing_): âNot at all, thanksânot at allâvery kind\nof you. Good morning.â\n\nTHE CAT: âGood-morning.â\n\nThen the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\nan unimportant position in the","gentleman, who may\noften be met with about these regions, during the summer months, sculling\nhimself along in easy vigorous style, or chatting genially to some old\nlock-keeper, as he passes throughâuntil well the other side of Henley, it\nis somewhat bare and dull.\n\nWe got up tolerably early on the Monday morning at Marlow, and went for a\nbathe before breakfast; and, coming back, Montmorency made an awful ass\nof himself. The only subject on which Montmorency and I have any serious\n","as for the gravy, it was a poemâa\nlittle too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious.\n\nWe finished up with tea and cherry tart. Montmorency had a fight with\nthe kettle during tea-time, and came off a poor second.\n\nThroughout the trip, he had manifested great curiosity concerning the\nkettle. He would sit and watch it, as it boiled, with a puzzled\nexpression, and would try and rouse it every now and then by growling at\nit",", when he has succeeded in\naccomplishing this, his conceit becomes quite unbearable.\n\nHe came and sat down on things, just when they were wanted to be packed;\nand he laboured under the fixed belief that, whenever Harris or George\nreached out their hand for anything, it was his cold, damp nose that they\nwanted. He put his leg into the jam, and he worried the teaspoons, and\nhe pretended that the lemons were rats, and got into the hamper and\nkilled three of them before Harris could land him with the"],["ing him, jeering at him. They peppered him with stale jokes, they\neven made a few new ones and threw at him. They hurled at him all the\nprivate family jokes belonging to our set, and which must have been\nperfectly unintelligible to him. And then, unable to stand their brutal\njibes any longer, he turned round on them, and they saw his face!\n\nI was glad to notice that they had sufficient decency left in them to\nlook very foolish. They explained to him that they had thought he was\nsome one","make love to Miss Smith and Miss Brown, who are\nplain and elderly, and havenât got any lovers? They themselves donât\nwant lovers. They never mean to marry.\n\nIt does not do to dwell on these things; it makes one so sad.\n\nThere was a boy at our school, we used to call him Sandford and Merton.\nHis real name was Stivvings. He was the most extraordinary lad I ever\ncame across. I believe he really liked study. He used to get into awful\nrows for sitting","\nand you find your head in the fresh air. Two feet off, you dimly observe\na half-dressed ruffian, waiting to kill you, and you are preparing for a\nlife-and-death struggle with him, when it begins to dawn upon you that\nitâs Jim.\n\nâOh, itâs you, is it?â he says, recognising you at the same moment.\n\nâYes,â you answer, rubbing your eyes; âwhatâs happened?â",", and they\nstopped and watched him too. His back was towards them, and they only\nsaw his jacket and cap. From this they immediately jumped to the\nconclusion that it was I, their beloved companion, who was making an\nexhibition of himself, and their delight knew no bounds. They commenced\nto chaff him unmercifully.\n\nI did not grasp their mistake at first, and I thought, âHow rude of them\nto go on like that, with a perfect stranger, too!â But before I could\ncall",":\n\nâI say, Tom!â\n\nâYes!â\n\nâHow have you got on?â\n\nâWell, to tell you the truth, my manâs chucked _me_ out.â\n\nâSoâs mine! I say, I donât think much of this inn, do you?â\n\nâWhat was the name of that inn?â said Harris.\n\nâThe Pig","shot up stream and sometimes he shot down stream, and at\nother times he simply spun round and came up the other side of the pole.\nAnd with every result he seemed equally surprised and annoyed.\n\nThe people about the river began to get quite absorbed in him after a\nwhile, and to make bets with one another as to what would be the outcome\nof his next push.\n\nIn the course of time my friends arrived on the opposite bank, and they\nstopped and watched him too. His back was towards them, and they only\nsaw his jacket and cap. From this","rout him out and ask him what he was doing\nthere; and when he answered, âNothing,â he had merely come out for a\nstroll (it was then four oâclock in the morning), they looked as though\nthey did not believe him, and two plain-clothes constables came home with\nhim to see if he really did live where he had said he did. They saw him\ngo in with his key, and then they took up a position opposite and watched\nthe house.\n\nHe thought he would light the fire when he got inside, and","tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\n\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.?â\n\nI said I generally preferred to sleep _inside_ a bed.\n\nHarris said it was old.\n\nGeorge said:\n\nâWhat time shall I wake you fellows?â\n\nHarris said:\n\nâSeven.â\n\nI said:\n\nâNoâsix,â because I wanted to write some","that.\n\nThe packing was done at 12.50; and Harris sat on the big hamper, and said\nhe hoped nothing would be found broken. George said that if anything was\nbroken it was broken, which reflection seemed to comfort him. He also\nsaid he was ready for bed. We were all ready for bed. Harris was to\nsleep with us that night, and we went upstairs.\n\nWe tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\n\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.",", and turned their lanterns on him\nand followed him about, and this had such an effect upon him at last that\nhe began to feel as if he really had done something, and he got to\nslinking down the by-streets and hiding in dark doorways when he heard\nthe regulation flip-flop approaching.\n\nOf course, this conduct made the force only more distrustful of him than\never, and they would come and rout him out and ask him what he was doing\nthere; and when he answered, âNothing,â he had merely come out for","You think he would be upset,â she queried, âif I gave a man a sovereign\nto take them away and bury them?â\n\nI answered that I thought he would never smile again.\n\nAn idea struck her. She said:\n\nâDo you mind keeping them for him? Let me send them round to you.â\n\nâMadam,â I replied, âfor myself I like the smell of cheese, and the\njourney the other day with them from Liverpool I shall ever",", carrying a huge bunch of keys in his hand that\nshook and jingled at every step.\n\nI motioned him away with silent dignity, but he still advanced,\nscreeching out the while:\n\nâIâm a-coming, sur, Iâm a-coming. Iâm a little lame. I ainât as spry as\nI used to be. This way, sur.â\n\nâGo away, you miserable old man,â I said.\n","of\nchess. But even that did not enliven him: it seemed slow somehow; so he\ngave chess up and tried to read. He did not seem able to take any sort\nof interest in reading either, so he put on his coat again and went out\nfor a walk.\n\nIt was horribly lonesome and dismal, and all the policemen he met\nregarded him with undisguised suspicion, and turned their lanterns on him\nand followed him about, and this had such an effect upon him at last that\nhe began to feel as","him late at night, and practising\nround the square. But the inhabitants complained to the police about it,\nand a watch was set for him one night, and he was captured. The evidence\nagainst him was very clear, and he was bound over to keep the peace for\nsix months.\n\nHe seemed to lose heart in the business after that. He did make one or\ntwo feeble efforts to take up the work again when the six months had\nelapsed, but there was always the same coldnessâthe same want of sympathy\non the part of the world to","â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\n\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\nput it straight.\n\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\nHarr","real thing, and only misleading. It was a country\ncousin that Harris took in. He said:\n\nâWeâll just go in here, so that you can say youâve been, but itâs very\nsimple. Itâs absurd to call it a maze. You keep on taking the first\nturning to the right. Weâll just walk round for ten minutes, and then go\nand get some lunch.â\n\nThey met some people soon after they had got inside","solemn things, when his captor released him.\n\nHe regained his feet, and looked round for his would-be murderer. The\nassassin was standing close by him, laughing heartily, but the moment he\ncaught sight of Harrisâs face, as it emerged from the water, he started\nback and seemed quite concerned.\n\nâI really beg your pardon,â he stammered confusedly, âbut I took you for\na friend of mine!â\n\nHarris thought it was lucky for","cousin swore he had noticed there seven minutes ago. Harris said: âOh,\nimpossible!â but the woman with the baby said, âNot at all,â as she\nherself had taken it from the child, and thrown it down there, just\nbefore she met Harris. She also added that she wished she never had met\nHarris, and expressed an opinion that he was an impostor. That made\nHarris mad, and he produced his map, and explained his theory.\n\nâThe map","and died\nhappy.\n\nAt that moment an angel came by in the disguise of a small boy (and I\ncannot think of any more effective disguise an angel could have assumed),\nwith a can of beer in one hand, and in the other something at the end of\na string, which he let down on to every flat stone he came across, and\nthen pulled up again, this producing a peculiarly unattractive sound,\nsuggestive of suffering.\n\nWe asked this heavenly messenger (as we discovered him afterwards to be)\nif he knew of any","you?â\n\nâWhat was the name of that inn?â said Harris.\n\nâThe Pig and Whistle,â said George. âWhy?â\n\nâAh, no, then it isnât the same,â replied Harris.\n\nâWhat do you mean?â queried George.\n\nâWhy itâs so curious,â murmured Harris, âbut precisely that very same\nthing happened to _my"],["wet night down at\nAldershot, âon just such another night as this,â said Harris; and he had\nwoke up in the morning a cripple for life. Harris said he would\nintroduce us both to the man when we got back to town; it would make our\nhearts bleed to see him.\n\nThis naturally led to some pleasant chat about sciatica, fevers, chills,\nlung diseases, and bronchitis; and Harris said how very awkward it would\nbe if one of us were taken seriously ill in the night","we were getting quite nervous about it.\nHarris said he felt such extraordinary fits of giddiness come over him at\ntimes, that he hardly knew what he was doing; and then George said that\n_he_ had fits of giddiness too, and hardly knew what _he_ was doing.\nWith me, it was my liver that was out of order. I knew it was my liver\nthat was out of order, because I had just been reading a patent\nliver-pill circular, in which were detailed the various symptoms by which\na man could tell when his liver was out of","Montmorency lodges an\nobjection.âOriginal motion carried by majority of three to one.\n\nThere were four of usâGeorge, and William Samuel Harris, and myself, and\nMontmorency. We were sitting in my room, smoking, and talking about how\nbad we wereâbad from a medical point of view I mean, of course.\n\nWe were all feeling seedy, and we were getting quite nervous about it.\nHarris said he felt such extraordinary fits of giddiness come over him at\ntimes, that he hardly","men who, being\nbehind him, he could not see). That sent us into convulsions. We told\neach other that it would be the death of us, this thing. The words\nalone, we said, were enough to send us into fits, but added to his mock\nseriousnessâoh, it was too much!\n\nIn the last verse, he surpassed himself. He glowered round upon us with\na look of such concentrated ferocity that, but for our being forewarned\nas to the German method of comic singing, we should","weak at the time; because I know, after the first\nhalf-hour or so, I seemed to take no interest whatever in my foodâan\nunusual thing for meâand I didnât want any cheese.\n\nThis duty done, we refilled our glasses, lit our pipes, and resumed the\ndiscussion upon our state of health. What it was that was actually the\nmatter with us, we none of us could be sure of; but the unanimous opinion\nwas that itâwhatever it wasâhad",",\nsuggestive of suffering.\n\nWe asked this heavenly messenger (as we discovered him afterwards to be)\nif he knew of any lonely house, whose occupants were few and feeble (old\nladies or paralysed gentlemen preferred), who could be easily frightened\ninto giving up their beds for the night to three desperate men; or, if\nnot this, could he recommend us to an empty pigstye, or a disused\nlimekiln, or anything of that sort. He did not know of any such placeâat\nleast, not"," George offered to go on and\ngive us our revenge; but Harris and I decided not to battle any further\nagainst Fate.\n\nAfter that, we mixed ourselves some toddy, and sat round and talked.\nGeorge told us about a man he had known, who had come up the river two\nyears ago and who had slept out in a damp boat on just such another night\nas that was, and it had given him rheumatic fever, and nothing was able\nto save him, and he had died in great agony ten days afterwards. George\nsaid","I had the\nsymptoms, beyond all mistake, the chief among them being âa general\ndisinclination to work of any kind.â\n\nWhat I suffer in that way no tongue can tell. From my earliest infancy I\nhave been a martyr to it. As a boy, the disease hardly ever left me for\na day. They did not know, then, that it was my liver. Medical science\nwas in a far less advanced state than now, and they used to put it down\nto laziness.\n\nâWhy,","chen said he had sung it once before the\nGerman Emperor, and he (the German Emperor) had sobbed like a little\nchild. He (Herr Boschen) said it was generally acknowledged to be one of\nthe most tragic and pathetic songs in the German language.\n\nIt was a trying situation for usâvery trying. There seemed to be no\nanswer. We looked around for the two young men who had done this thing,\nbut they had left the house in an unostentatious manner immediately after\nthe end of the song.\n\nThat was","beneath you heaves and rocks, and the muffled voice that you heard before\nreplies from out the ruin:\n\nâGet off my head, canât you?â\n\nAnd Bill struggles out, a muddy, trampled wreck, and in an unnecessarily\naggressive moodâhe being under the evident belief that the whole thing\nhas been done on purpose.\n\nIn the morning you are all three speechless, owing to having caught\nsevere colds in the night; you also feel very quarrelsome, and you swear","aroused no enthusiasm within him, but he felt that there was some of that\ntwo-pound-five to be worked off, and he held on to ropes and things and\nwent down. A pleasant odour of onions and hot ham, mingled with fried\nfish and greens, greeted him at the bottom of the ladder; and then the\nsteward came up with an oily smile, and said:\n\nâWhat can I get you, sir?â\n\n[Picture: Man feeling ill] âGet me out of this","âWhat can I get you, sir?â\n\n[Picture: Man feeling ill] âGet me out of this,â was the feeble reply.\n\nAnd they ran him up quick, and propped him up, over to leeward, and left\nhim.\n\nFor the next four days he lived a simple and blameless life on thin\ncaptainâs biscuits (I mean that the biscuits were thin, not the captain)\nand soda-water; but, towards Saturday, he got uppish,","there was any known disease going within ten miles of him, he\nhad it, and had it badly. He would take bronchitis in the dog-days, and\nhave hay-fever at Christmas. After a six weeksâ period of drought, he\nwould be stricken down with rheumatic fever; and he would go out in a\nNovember fog and come home with a sunstroke.\n\nThey put him under laughing-gas one year, poor lad, and drew all his\nteeth, and gave him a false set, because he suffered so terribly","\nFive minutes afterwards, a third man came in, and described how _he_ had\ncaught it early one morning, with bleak; and then he left, and a stolid,\nsolemn-looking, middle-aged individual came in, and sat down over by the\nwindow.\n\nNone of us spoke for a while; but, at length, George turned to the new\ncomer, and said:\n\nâI beg your pardon, I hope you will forgive the liberty that weâperfect\nstrangers in the neighbourhoodâare taking","while, frozen with horror; and then, in the listlessness of\ndespair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid feverâread the\nsymptomsâdiscovered that I had typhoid fever, must have had it for months\nwithout knowing itâwondered what else I had got; turned up St. Vitusâs\nDanceâfound, as I expected, that I had that too,âbegan to get interested\nin my case, and determined to sift it to the bottom","I.\n\n\nThree invalids.âSufferings of George and Harris.âA victim to one hundred\nand seven fatal maladies.âUseful prescriptions.âCure for liver complaint\nin children.âWe agree that we are overworked, and need rest.âA week on\nthe rolling deep?âGeorge suggests the River.âMontmorency lodges an\nobjection.âOriginal motion carried by majority of three to one.\n\nThere were four of usâ","\n\nAnd we other boys, who would have sacrificed ten terms of our school-life\nfor the sake of being ill for a day, and had no desire whatever to give\nour parents any excuse for being stuck-up about us, couldnât catch so\nmuch as a stiff neck. We fooled about in draughts, and it did us good,\nand freshened us up; and we took things to make us sick, and they made us\nfat, and gave us an appetite. Nothing we could think of seemed to make\nus ill until the",", for no one spoke.\n\nA grim fraternity, passing grim lives in that sweet spot, that God had\nmade so bright! Strange that Natureâs voices all around themâthe soft\nsinging of the waters, the whisperings of the river grass, the music of\nthe rushing windâshould not have taught them a truer meaning of life than\nthis. They listened there, through the long days, in silence, waiting\nfor a voice from heaven; and all day long and through the solemn night it\nspoke to them in my","ll just walk round for ten minutes, and then go\nand get some lunch.â\n\nThey met some people soon after they had got inside, who said they had\nbeen there for three-quarters of an hour, and had had about enough of it.\nHarris told them they could follow him, if they liked; he was just going\nin, and then should turn round and come out again. They said it was very\nkind of him, and fell behind, and followed.\n\nThey picked up various other people who wanted to get it over, as they\nwent along","rheumatic fever, and nothing was able\nto save him, and he had died in great agony ten days afterwards. George\nsaid he was quite a young man, and was engaged to be married. He said it\nwas one of the saddest things he had ever known.\n\nAnd that put Harris in mind of a friend of his, who had been in the\nVolunteers, and who had slept out under canvas one wet night down at\nAldershot, âon just such another night as this,â said Harris; and he had\nwo"],["the last two\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\nabout the matter, and also remembers that there was an unusually strong\nstream against them all the wayâlikewise a stiff wind.\n\nâAbout thirty-four miles, I suppose, it must have been,â adds the first\nspeaker, reaching down another cushion to put under his head.\n\nâNoâno; donât exaggerate, Tom,â murmurs Jack, reprovingly","balancing myself. You stand in the centre of the deck,\nand, as the ship heaves and pitches, you move your body about, so as to\nkeep it always straight. When the front of the ship rises, you lean\nforward, till the deck almost touches your nose; and when its back end\ngets up, you lean backwards. This is all very well for an hour or two;\nbut you canât balance yourself for a week.\n\nGeorge said:\n\nâLetâs go up the river.â\n",", he gets out\non to the bank, and hides behind a tree.\n\nI was one of a party who hired an up-river boat one summer, for a few\ndaysâ trip. We had none of us ever seen the hired up-river boat before;\nand we did not know what it was when we did see it.\n\nWe had written for a boatâa double sculling skiff; and when we went down\nwith our bags to the yard, and gave our names, the man said:\n\n[Picture: The Pride of the","steadily up stream for the last hour and a half; âwhy, Jim Biffles\nand Jack and I, last season, pulled up from Marlow to Goring in one\nafternoonânever stopped once. Do you remember that, Jack?â\n\nJack, who has made himself a bed up in the prow of all the rugs and coats\nhe can collect, and who has been lying there asleep for the last two\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\nabout the matter, and also remem","ful appearance.\n\nâI should like to see him pull the wrong line,â murmured George, as they\npassed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed\nup the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen\nsheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars immediately left the boat on\nthe larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\namong boat","ns.\n\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\n\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\nI would go down in the morning, and take the boat up to Chertsey, and\nGeorge, who would not be able to get away from the City till the\nafternoon (George goes to sleep at a bank from ten to four each day,\nexcept Saturdays, when they wake him up and put him outside at two),\nwould meet us there.\n\nShould we âcamp outâ or sleep at in","City, so\nhe explained. Harris, who is callous in his nature, and not prone to\npity, said:\n\nâAh! and now you are going to have a hard time on the river for a change;\nchange is good for everyone. Out you get!â\n\nHe could not in conscienceânot even Georgeâs conscienceâobject, though he\ndid suggest that, perhaps, it would be better for him to stop in the\nboat, and get tea ready, while Harris and I towed, because getting tea","ncy] The only one who was not struck with the\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\nMontmorency.\n\nâItâs all very well for you fellows,â he says; âyou like it, but _I_\ndonât. Thereâs nothing for me to do. Scenery is not in my line, and I\ndonât smoke. If I see a rat, you wonât stop; and","a mile of distance.\n\nOf course, its entrance is studded with posts and chains, and surrounded\nwith notice boards, menacing all kinds of torture, imprisonment, and\ndeath to everyone who dares set scull upon its watersâI wonder some of\nthese riparian boors donât claim the air of the river and threaten\neveryone with forty shillings fine who breathes itâbut the posts and\nchains a little skill will easily avoid; and as for the boards, you\nmight, if you have five minutes to"," George offered to go on and\ngive us our revenge; but Harris and I decided not to battle any further\nagainst Fate.\n\nAfter that, we mixed ourselves some toddy, and sat round and talked.\nGeorge told us about a man he had known, who had come up the river two\nyears ago and who had slept out in a damp boat on just such another night\nas that was, and it had given him rheumatic fever, and nothing was able\nto save him, and he had died in great agony ten days afterwards. George\nsaid","took a âraw\nâunâ up with us once last season, and we plied him with the customary\nstretchers about the wonderful things we had done all the way up.\n\nWe gave him all the regular onesâthe time-honoured lies that have done\nduty up the river with every boating-man for years pastâand added seven\nentirely original ones that we had invented for ourselves, including a\nreally quite likely story, founded, to a certain extent, on an all but\ntrue episode, which had"," In the end, they do get it clear, and then turn round and\nfind that the boat has drifted off, and is making straight for the weir.\n\nThis really happened once to my own knowledge. It was up by Boveney, one\nrather windy morning. We were pulling down stream, and, as we came round\nthe bend, we noticed a couple of men on the bank. They were looking at\neach other with as bewildered and helplessly miserable expression as I\nhave ever witnessed on any human countenance before or since, and they\nheld",", by the\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\nbeen sleeping the sleep of the just right on the middle of his chest,\nsprawling across the boat.\n\nThen we pulled up the canvas, and all four of us poked our heads out over\nthe off-side, and looked down at the water and shivered. The idea,\novernight, had been that we should get up early in the morning, fling off\nour rugs and shawls, and, throwing back the canvas, spring into the","ulls. After that we proceeded with great\ncaution, but they were a wretched old pair, and the second one cracked\nalmost easier than the first, and left us helpless.\n\nThe mud stretched out for about a hundred yards in front of us, and\nbehind us was the water. The only thing to be done was to sit and wait\nuntil someone came by.\n\nIt was not the sort of day to attract people out on the river, and it was\nthree hours before a soul came in sight. It was an old fisherman who,\nwith","towards us, laughing and talking together in deep\nguttural bass, a half-a-score of stalwart halbert-menâBaronsâ men,\ntheseâand halt at a hundred yards or so above us, on the other bank, and\nlean upon their arms, and wait.\n\nAnd so, from hour to hour, march up along the road ever fresh groups and\nbands of armed men, their casques and breastplates flashing back the long\nlow lines of morning sunlight, until, as far as eye can reach, the way\nse",", told them it was\njolly fun, boating!\n\nThe tide was running out pretty rapidly when they reached the\nlanding-stage, and there was a stiff breeze blowing across the river, but\nthis did not trouble them at all, and they proceeded to select their\nboat.\n\nThere was an eight-oared racing outrigger drawn up on the stage; that was\nthe one that took their fancy. They said theyâd have that one, please.\nThe boatman was away, and only his boy was in charge. The boy tried to\nd","bath.\n\nAgreed, finally, that we should take _three_ bath towels, so as not to\nkeep each other waiting.\n\nFor clothes, George said two suits of flannel would be sufficient, as we\ncould wash them ourselves, in the river, when they got dirty. We asked\nhim if he had ever tried washing flannels in the river, and he replied:\nâNo, not exactly himself like; but he knew some fellows who had, and it\nwas easy enough;â and Harris and I were weak enough to fancy he knew what\nhe","but the posts and\nchains a little skill will easily avoid; and as for the boards, you\nmight, if you have five minutes to spare, and there is nobody about, take\none or two of them down and throw them into the river.\n\nHalf-way up the backwater, we got out and lunched; and it was during this\nlunch that George and I received rather a trying shock.\n\nHarris received a shock, too; but I do not think Harrisâs shock could\nhave been anything like so bad as the shock that George and I","year. There ainât no Wallingford lock now, sir.\nYouâre close to Cleeve now. Blow me tight if âere ainât a gentleman been\nlooking for Wallingford lock, Bill!â\n\nI had never thought of that. I wanted to fall upon all their necks and\nbless them; but the stream was running too strong just there to allow of\nthis, so I had to content myself with mere cold-sounding words of\ngratitude.\n\nWe thanked them over and","up to Staines, and we\nhad taken the boat from there, and it seemed that we were dragging fifty\ntons after us, and were walking forty miles. It was half-past seven when\nwe were through, and we all got in, and sculled up close to the left\nbank, looking out for a spot to haul up in.\n\nWe had originally intended to go on to Magna Charta Island, a sweetly\npretty part of the river, where it winds through a soft, green valley,\nand to camp in one of the many picturesque inlets to"],["ston.â\n\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, âbut I suppose\n_some_ trainâs got to go to Kingston; and Iâll do it. Gimme the\nhalf-crown.â\n\nThus we got to Kingston by the London and South-Western Railway.\n\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo","he was\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\nthat he rather thought he was. Anyhow, if he wasnât the 11.5 for\nKingston, he said he was pretty confident he was the 9.32 for Virginia\nWater, or the 10 a.m. express for the Isle of Wight, or somewhere in that\ndirection, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be","direction, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be the 11.5 for Kingston.\n\nâNobody will ever know, on this line,â we said, âwhat you are, or where\nyouâre going. You know the way, you slip off quietly and go to\nKingston.â\n\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, â","\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for it,\nand nobody knew what had become of it.\n\nOur boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we\nwended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we\nstepped.\n\nâAre you all right, sir?â said the man.\n\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the","the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnât they\ncouldnât say.\n\nThen our porter said he thought that must be it on the high-level\nplatform; said he thought he knew the train. So we went to the\nhigh-level platform, and saw the engine-driver, and asked him if he was\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\nthat he rather thought he was.","about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâs friends,\nwho had evidently sworn never to forsake him, we drove away amidst the\ncheers of the crowd, Biggsâs boy shying a carrot after us for luck.\n\nWe got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\ntrain is going to start from, or where",",â observed George, casting a glance of intense\nmalevolence over the boat, âit might be worth while to mention that\nthereâs a train leaves Pangbourne, I know, soon after five, which would\njust land us in town in comfortable time to get a chop, and then go on to\nthe place you mentioned afterwards.â\n\nNobody spoke. We looked at one another, and each one seemed to see his\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\nsilence, we dragged out and over","The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\nfrom the local.\n\nTo put an end to the matter, we went upstairs, and asked the traffic\nsuperintendent, and he told us that he had just met a man, who said he\nhad seen it at number three platform. We went to number three platform,\nbut the authorities there said that they rather thought that train was\nthe Southampton express, or else the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnâ","this lumbering old top-heavy\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\nGeorge come and do some work? Why couldnât he have got the day off, and\ncome down with us? Bank be blowed! What good was he at the bank?\n\nâI never see him doing any work there,â continued Harris, âwhenever I go\nin. He sits behind a bit of glass all day, trying to look as if he was\ndoing something.","and each one seemed to see his\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\nsilence, we dragged out and overhauled the Gladstone. We looked up the\nriver and down the river; not a soul was in sight!\n\nTwenty minutes later, three figures, followed by a shamed-looking dog,\nmight have been seen creeping stealthily from the boat-house at the\nâSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\nnor gaudy costume:\n\nBlack leather shoes,","42âs a-moving.â\n\nThe grocerâs boy came across, and took up a position on the other side of\nthe step. Then the young gentleman from the boot-shop stopped, and\njoined Biggsâs boy; while the empty-can superintendent from âThe Blue\nPostsâ took up an independent position on the curb.\n\nâThey ainât a-going to starve, are they?â said the gentleman from the\nboot-","CHAPTER II.\n\n\nPlans discussed.âPleasures of âcamping-out,â on fine nights.âDitto, wet\nnights.âCompromise decided on.âMontmorency, first impressions of.âFears\nlest he is too good for this world, fears subsequently dismissed as\ngroundless.âMeeting adjourns.\n\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\n\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\n",".\n\nIt was a glorious morning, late spring or early summer, as you care to\ntake it, when the dainty sheen of grass and leaf is blushing to a deeper\ngreen; and the year seems like a fair young maid, trembling with strange,\nwakening pulses on the brink of womanhood.\n\nThe quaint back streets of Kingston, where they came down to the waterâs\nedge, looked quite picturesque in the flashing sunlight, the glinting\nriver with its drifting barges, the wooded towpath, the","That amused Harris.\n\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\nhalf-an-hour of it would kill him. Have you ever seen George work?â he\nadded, turning to me.\n\nI agreed with Harris that I never hadâmost certainly not since we had\nstarted on this trip.\n\nâWell, I donât see how _you_ can know much about it, one way or the\nother,â George retorted on Harris; â","long day.\n\nThe order of the procession was as follows:â\n\n Montmorency, carrying a stick.\n Two disreputable-looking curs, friends of Montmorencyâs.\n George, carrying coats and rugs, and smoking a short pipe.\n Harris, trying to walk with easy grace,\n while carrying a bulged-out Gladstone bag in one hand\n and a bottle of lime-juice in the other.\n Greengrocerâs boy and bakerâ","and he has\nslid and wriggled in vain. Far down the road a little cloud of dust has\nrisen, and draws nearer and grows larger, and the pattering of many hoofs\ngrows louder, and in and out between the scattered groups of drawn-up\nmen, there pushes on its way a brilliant cavalcade of gay-dressed lords\nand knights. And front and rear, and either flank, there ride the yeomen\nof the Barons, and in the midst King John.\n\nHe rides to where the barges","had been very little good\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\n\nâWell, hang it all, Iâve done more than old J., anyhow,â rejoined Harris.\n\nâWell, you couldnât very well have done less,â added George.\n\nâI suppose J. thinks he is the passenger,â continued Harris.\n\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston,","all right, sir?â said the man.\n\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the sculls and I at the\ntiller-lines, and Montmorency, unhappy and deeply suspicious, in the\nprow, out we shot on to the waters which, for a fortnight, were to be our\nhome.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\nKingston.âInstructive remarks on early English history.âInstructive\nobservations on carved oak and life in general.â","ourselves; and he laughed pleasantly, and said that some\npeople made such a fuss over a little thing. But even he grew strangely\ndepressed after we had started, and so, when we reached Crewe, I asked\nhim to come and have a drink. He accepted, and we forced our way into\nthe buffet, where we yelled, and stamped, and waved our umbrellas for a\nquarter of an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted\nanything.\n\nâWhatâs yours?","the bank, and one and a half moments\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\namong boat-hooks and sails and carpet-bags and bottles. The last man\nwent on twenty yards further, and then got out on his head.\n\nThis seemed to sort of lighten the boat, and it went on much easier, the\nsmall boy shouting at the top of his voice, and urging his steed into a\ngallop. The fellows sat up and stared at one another. It was some\nseconds before"],["about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâs friends,\nwho had evidently sworn never to forsake him, we drove away amidst the\ncheers of the crowd, Biggsâs boy shying a carrot after us for luck.\n\nWe got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\ntrain is going to start from, or where","The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\nfrom the local.\n\nTo put an end to the matter, we went upstairs, and asked the traffic\nsuperintendent, and he told us that he had just met a man, who said he\nhad seen it at number three platform. We went to number three platform,\nbut the authorities there said that they rather thought that train was\nthe Southampton express, or else the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnâ","ston.â\n\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, âbut I suppose\n_some_ trainâs got to go to Kingston; and Iâll do it. Gimme the\nhalf-crown.â\n\nThus we got to Kingston by the London and South-Western Railway.\n\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo","he was\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\nthat he rather thought he was. Anyhow, if he wasnât the 11.5 for\nKingston, he said he was pretty confident he was the 9.32 for Virginia\nWater, or the 10 a.m. express for the Isle of Wight, or somewhere in that\ndirection, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be","-five started\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\ntrain is going to start from, or where a train when it does start is\ngoing to, or anything about it. The porter who took our things thought\nit would go from number two platform, while another porter, with whom he\ndiscussed the question, had heard a rumour that it would go from number\none. The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\nfrom the local.\n\nTo put an end to the matter, we went","the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnât they\ncouldnât say.\n\nThen our porter said he thought that must be it on the high-level\nplatform; said he thought he knew the train. So we went to the\nhigh-level platform, and saw the engine-driver, and asked him if he was\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\nthat he rather thought he was.","\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for it,\nand nobody knew what had become of it.\n\nOur boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we\nwended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we\nstepped.\n\nâAre you all right, sir?â said the man.\n\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the","and each one seemed to see his\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\nsilence, we dragged out and overhauled the Gladstone. We looked up the\nriver and down the river; not a soul was in sight!\n\nTwenty minutes later, three figures, followed by a shamed-looking dog,\nmight have been seen creeping stealthily from the boat-house at the\nâSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\nnor gaudy costume:\n\nBlack leather shoes,",",â observed George, casting a glance of intense\nmalevolence over the boat, âit might be worth while to mention that\nthereâs a train leaves Pangbourne, I know, soon after five, which would\njust land us in town in comfortable time to get a chop, and then go on to\nthe place you mentioned afterwards.â\n\nNobody spoke. We looked at one another, and each one seemed to see his\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\nsilence, we dragged out and over","ourselves; and he laughed pleasantly, and said that some\npeople made such a fuss over a little thing. But even he grew strangely\ndepressed after we had started, and so, when we reached Crewe, I asked\nhim to come and have a drink. He accepted, and we forced our way into\nthe buffet, where we yelled, and stamped, and waved our umbrellas for a\nquarter of an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted\nanything.\n\nâWhatâs yours?","direction, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be the 11.5 for Kingston.\n\nâNobody will ever know, on this line,â we said, âwhat you are, or where\nyouâre going. You know the way, you slip off quietly and go to\nKingston.â\n\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, â","âSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\nnor gaudy costume:\n\nBlack leather shoes, dirty; suit of boating flannels, very dirty; brown\nfelt hat, much battered; mackintosh, very wet; umbrella.\n\nWe had deceived the boatman at Pangbourne. We had not had the face to\ntell him that we were running away from the rain. We had left the boat,\nand all it contained, in his charge, with instructions that it was to be\nready for","\nstop where they were, and he would come to them. They huddled together,\nand waited; and he climbed down, and came in.\n\nHe was a young keeper, as luck would have it, and new to the business;\nand when he got in, he couldnât find them, and he wandered about, trying\nto get to them, and then _he_ got lost. They caught sight of him, every\nnow and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see\nthem, and rush to get to them","sniffing, and, at the third sniff, they caught\nit right on the chest, and rose up without another word and went out.\nAnd then a stout lady got up, and said it was disgraceful that a\nrespectable married woman should be harried about in this way, and\ngathered up a bag and eight parcels and went. The remaining four\npassengers sat on for a while, until a solemn-looking man in the corner,\nwho, from his dress and general appearance, seemed to belong to the\nundertaker class, said it put him in","42âs a-moving.â\n\nThe grocerâs boy came across, and took up a position on the other side of\nthe step. Then the young gentleman from the boot-shop stopped, and\njoined Biggsâs boy; while the empty-can superintendent from âThe Blue\nPostsâ took up an independent position on the curb.\n\nâThey ainât a-going to starve, are they?â said the gentleman from the\nboot-","miles an hour. The wind still blew in his direction, and\nbefore we reached the end of the street he was laying himself out at the\nrate of nearly four miles an hour, leaving the cripples and stout old\nladies simply nowhere.\n\nIt took two porters as well as the driver to hold him in at the station;\nand I do not think they would have done it, even then, had not one of the\nmen had the presence of mind to put a handkerchief over his nose, and to\nlight a bit of brown paper.\n\nI took my ticket","ful appearance.\n\nâI should like to see him pull the wrong line,â murmured George, as they\npassed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed\nup the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen\nsheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars immediately left the boat on\nthe larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\namong boat","and begin again. For the beginning again part\nof it there was not much enthusiasm; but with regard to the advisability\nof going back to the entrance there was complete unanimity, and so they\nturned, and trailed after Harris again, in the opposite direction. About\nten minutes more passed, and then they found themselves in the centre.\n\nHarris thought at first of pretending that that was what he had been\naiming at; but the crowd looked dangerous, and he decided to treat it as\nan accident.\n\nAnyhow, they had got something to start from","get in here,â they would shout. And they\nwould run along, carrying heavy bags, and fight round the door to get in\nfirst. And one would open the door and mount the steps, and stagger back\ninto the arms of the man behind him; and they would all come and have a\nsniff, and then droop off and squeeze into other carriages, or pay the\ndifference and go first.\n\nFrom Euston, I took the cheeses down to my friendâs house. When his wife\ncame into the room","the bank, and one and a half moments\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\namong boat-hooks and sails and carpet-bags and bottles. The last man\nwent on twenty yards further, and then got out on his head.\n\nThis seemed to sort of lighten the boat, and it went on much easier, the\nsmall boy shouting at the top of his voice, and urging his steed into a\ngallop. The fellows sat up and stared at one another. It was some\nseconds before"],["this lumbering old top-heavy\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\nGeorge come and do some work? Why couldnât he have got the day off, and\ncome down with us? Bank be blowed! What good was he at the bank?\n\nâI never see him doing any work there,â continued Harris, âwhenever I go\nin. He sits behind a bit of glass all day, trying to look as if he was\ndoing something.","but the posts and\nchains a little skill will easily avoid; and as for the boards, you\nmight, if you have five minutes to spare, and there is nobody about, take\none or two of them down and throw them into the river.\n\nHalf-way up the backwater, we got out and lunched; and it was during this\nlunch that George and I received rather a trying shock.\n\nHarris received a shock, too; but I do not think Harrisâs shock could\nhave been anything like so bad as the shock that George and I","t think George ought to do anything that would have a\ntendency to make him sleepier than he always was, as it might be\ndangerous. He said he didnât very well understand how George was going\nto sleep any more than he did now, seeing that there were only\ntwenty-four hours in each day, summer and winter alike; but thought that\nif he _did_ sleep any more, he might just as well be dead, and so save\nhis board and lodging.\n\nHarris said, however, that the river would suit him to","the morning that I should bring\nthe boat up to three miles above Reading. Well, here we were, ten miles\nabove Reading! Surely it was now their turn again.\n\nI could not get either George or Harris to see the matter in its proper\nlight, however; so, to save argument, I took the sculls. I had not been\npulling for more than a minute or so, when George noticed something black\nfloating on the water, and we drew up to it. George leant over, as we\nneared it, and laid hold of","and said, wildly:\n\nâOh, Henry, then _where_ is auntie?â\n\nâDid they ever recover the old lady?â asked Harris.\n\nGeorge replied he did not know.\n\nAnother example of the dangerous want of sympathy between tower and towed\nwas witnessed by George and myself once up near Walton. It was where the\ntow-path shelves gently down into the water, and we were camping on the\nopposite bank, noticing things in general. By-and-by a small boat","get aground; everyone on board of it would\nrush to the bow and yell at us, and the people on the bank would stand\nand shout to us, and all the other passing boats would stop and join in,\ntill the whole river for miles up and down was in a state of frantic\ncommotion. And then Harris would break off in the most interesting part\nof his narrative, and look up with mild surprise, and say to George:\n\nâWhy, George, bless me, if here isnât a steam launch!â\n\nAnd","had been very little good\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\n\nâWell, hang it all, Iâve done more than old J., anyhow,â rejoined Harris.\n\nâWell, you couldnât very well have done less,â added George.\n\nâI suppose J. thinks he is the passenger,â continued Harris.\n\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston,","him. George, on the other hand, ridiculed the idea of\nHarrisâs having done anything more than eat and sleep, and had a\ncast-iron opinion that it was heâGeorge himselfâwho had done all the\nlabour worth speaking of.\n\nHe said he had never been out with such a couple of lazily skulks as\nHarris and I.\n\nThat amused Harris.\n\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\nhalf","City, so\nhe explained. Harris, who is callous in his nature, and not prone to\npity, said:\n\nâAh! and now you are going to have a hard time on the river for a change;\nchange is good for everyone. Out you get!â\n\nHe could not in conscienceânot even Georgeâs conscienceâobject, though he\ndid suggest that, perhaps, it would be better for him to stop in the\nboat, and get tea ready, while Harris and I towed, because getting tea","ful appearance.\n\nâI should like to see him pull the wrong line,â murmured George, as they\npassed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed\nup the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen\nsheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars immediately left the boat on\nthe larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\namong boat","continued Harris.\n\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston, and for having\nsuperintended and managed everything for them, and taken care of them,\nand slaved for them. It is the way of the world.\n\nWe settled the present difficulty by arranging that Harris and George\nshould scull up past Reading, and that I should tow the boat on from\nthere. Pulling a heavy boat against a strong stream has few attractions\nfor me now. There was a time, long ago","it, and it choked him,\nand he died.\n\nAfter you pass Old Windsor, the river is somewhat uninteresting, and does\nnot become itself again until you are nearing Boveney. George and I\ntowed up past the Home Park, which stretches along the right bank from\nAlbert to Victoria Bridge; and as we were passing Datchet, George asked\nme if I remembered our first trip up the river, and when we landed at\nDatchet at ten oâclock at night, and wanted to go to bed.\n\nI answered that I did","ât see how _you_ can know much about it, one way or the\nother,â George retorted on Harris; âfor Iâm blest if you havenât been\nasleep half the time. Have you ever seen Harris fully awake, except at\nmeal-time?â asked George, addressing me.\n\nTruth compelled me to support George. Harris had been very little good\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\n\nâWell, hang it all,","said he\nwouldnât have joined if it hadnât been for the idea of seeing Mrs.\nThomasâs tomb.\n\nI reminded him of George, and how we had to get the boat up to Shepperton\nby five oâclock to meet him, and then he went for George. Why was George\nto fool about all day, and leave us to lug this lumbering old top-heavy\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\nGe","steadily up stream for the last hour and a half; âwhy, Jim Biffles\nand Jack and I, last season, pulled up from Marlow to Goring in one\nafternoonânever stopped once. Do you remember that, Jack?â\n\nJack, who has made himself a bed up in the prow of all the rugs and coats\nhe can collect, and who has been lying there asleep for the last two\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\nabout the matter, and also remem","ash, and I was out mid-stream with a gallon of\nThames water inside me before I knew what had happened.\n\nâBy Jove! old J.âs gone in,â I heard Harris say, as I came blowing to the\nsurface. âI didnât think heâd have the pluck to do it. Did you?â\n\nâIs it all right?â sung out George.\n\nâLovely,â I spluttered back","\nWe had been sitting huddled up in our rugs while George had been telling\nme this true story, and on his finishing it I set to work to wake up\nHarris with a scull. The third prod did it: and he turned over on the\nother side, and said he would be down in a minute, and that he would have\nhis lace-up boots. We soon let him know where he was, however, by the\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\nbeen sleeping the sleep of"," George offered to go on and\ngive us our revenge; but Harris and I decided not to battle any further\nagainst Fate.\n\nAfter that, we mixed ourselves some toddy, and sat round and talked.\nGeorge told us about a man he had known, who had come up the river two\nyears ago and who had slept out in a damp boat on just such another night\nas that was, and it had given him rheumatic fever, and nothing was able\nto save him, and he had died in great agony ten days afterwards. George\nsaid","George and Harris again\nshirk their work.âRather a hackneyed story.âStreatley and Goring.\n\nWe came in sight of Reading about eleven. The river is dirty and dismal\nhere. One does not linger in the neighbourhood of Reading. The town\nitself is a famous old place, dating from the dim days of King Ethelred,\nwhen the Danes anchored their warships in the Kennet, and started from\nReading to ravage all the land of Wessex; and here Ethel","Harrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\nfamily-man puts up a picture.âGeorge makes a sensible, remark.âDelights\nof early morning bathing.âProvisions for getting upset.\n\nSo, on the following evening, we again assembled, to discuss and arrange\nour plans. Harris said:\n\nâNow, the first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery"],["strong mind, it only gave him fits; but a person of mere average\nintellect it usually sent mad.\n\nThere is, it must be confessed, something very sad about the early\nefforts of an amateur in bagpipes. I have felt that myself when\nlistening to my young friend. They appear to be a trying instrument to\nperform upon. You have to get enough breath for the whole tune before\nyou startâat least, so I gathered from watching Jefferson.\n\nHe would begin magnificently with a wild, full, come-to-the-battle","at least, so I gathered from watching Jefferson.\n\nHe would begin magnificently with a wild, full, come-to-the-battle sort\nof a note, that quite roused you. But he would get more and more piano\nas he went on, and the last verse generally collapsed in the middle with\na splutter and a hiss.\n\nYou want to be in good health to play the bagpipes.\n\nYoung Jefferson only learnt to play one tune on those bagpipes; but I\nnever heard any complaints about the insufficiency of his re","\nYoung Jefferson only learnt to play one tune on those bagpipes; but I\nnever heard any complaints about the insufficiency of his repertoireânone\nwhatever. This tune was âThe Campbells are Coming, HoorayâHooray!â so he\nsaid, though his father always held that it was âThe Blue Bells of\nScotland.â Nobody seemed quite sure what it was exactly, but they all\nagreed that it sounded Scotch.\n\nStrangers were allowed","Montmorency and the tea-kettle.âGeorgeâs\n banjo studies.âMeet with discouragement.âDifficulties in the way of\n the musical amateur.âLearning to play the bagpipes.âHarris feels sad\n after supper.âGeorge and I go for a walk.âReturn hungry and\n wet.âThere is a strangeness about Harris.âHarris and the swans, a\n remarkable story","and made him take the machine\ndown there when he wanted to work it; and sometimes a visitor would come\nto the house who knew nothing of the matter, and they would forget to\ntell him all about it, and caution him, and he would go out for a stroll\nround the garden and suddenly get within earshot of those bagpipes,\nwithout being prepared for it, or knowing what it was. If he were a man\nof strong mind, it only gave him fits; but a person of mere average\nintellect it usually sent mad.\n\nThere is, it must be conf","heartening work learning a musical instrument. You would\nthink that Society, for its own sake, would do all it could to assist a\nman to acquire the art of playing a musical instrument. But it doesnât!\n\nI knew a young fellow once, who was studying to play the bagpipes, and\nyou would be surprised at the amount of opposition he had to contend\nwith. Why, not even from the members of his own family did he receive\nwhat you could call active encouragement. His father was dead against\nthe business from the beginning, and spoke quite","\nI will say for George that he did not want any pressing. There was no\nnonsense about having left his music at home, or anything of that sort.\nHe at once fished out his instrument, and commenced to play âTwo Lovely\nBlack Eyes.â\n\nI had always regarded âTwo Lovely Black Eyesâ as rather a commonplace\ntune until that evening. The rich vein of sadness that George extracted\nfrom it quite surprised me.\n\nThe desire that grew upon Harris and myself, as the mourn","could have sounded. Heavenly melody, in our then state of mind, would\nonly have still further harrowed us. A soul-moving harmony, correctly\nperformed, we should have taken as a spirit-warning, and have given up\nall hope. But about the strains of âHeâs got âem on,â jerked\nspasmodically, and with involuntary variations, out of a wheezy\naccordion, there was something singularly human and reassuring.\n\nThe sweet sounds drew nearer","river, to get a little practice, but it\nwas never a success. Harrisâs language used to be enough to unnerve any\nman; added to which, Montmorency would sit and howl steadily, right\nthrough the performance. It was not giving the man a fair chance.\n\nâWhatâs he want to howl like that for when Iâm playing?â George would\nexclaim indignantly, while taking aim at him with a boot.\n\nâWhat do you want to play like that"," George would\nexclaim indignantly, while taking aim at him with a boot.\n\nâWhat do you want to play like that for when he is howling?â Harris would\nretort, catching the boot. âYou let him alone. He canât help howling.\nHeâs got a musical ear, and your playing _makes_ him howl.â\n\nSo George determined to postpone study of the banjo until he reached\nhome. But he did not get much opportunity even there.","\nlike that.\n\nSo he sat up at night instead, and played after the family had gone to\nbed, but that did not do, as it got the house such a bad name. People,\ngoing home late, would stop outside to listen, and then put it about all\nover the town, the next morning, that a fearful murder had been committed\nat Mr. Jeffersonâs the night before; and would describe how they had\nheard the victimâs shrieks and the brutal oaths and curses of the\nmurderer, followed by","sters brag away for a while, and then, during a momentary lull, he\nremoves the pipe from his mouth, and remarks, as he knocks the ashes out\nagainst the bars:\n\nâWell, I had a haul on Tuesday evening that itâs not much good my telling\nanybody about.â\n\nâOh! whyâs that?â they ask.\n\nâBecause I donât expect anybody would believe me if I did,â replies the\nold fellow","Harris_, _seizing what he considers to be a\nfavourable opening in the music_, _begins_.]\n\nHARRIS:\n\n ââWhen I was young and called to the Bar.ââ\n\n[_General roar of laughter_, _taken by Harris as a compliment_.\n_Pianist_, _thinking of his wife and family_, _gives up the unequal\ncontest and retires_; _his place being taken by a stronger-nerved man_.\n\nTHE NEW PIANIST (_che","music often\nsoothed the nerves and took away a headache; and he twanged two or three\nnotes, just to show Harris what it was like.\n\nHarris said he would rather have the headache.\n\nGeorge has never learned to play the banjo to this day. He has had too\nmuch all-round discouragement to meet. He tried on two or three\nevenings, while we were up the river, to get a little practice, but it\nwas never a success. Harrisâs language used to be enough to unnerve any","ought of hobgoblins and banshees, and will-oâ-the-wisps, and those\nwicked girls who sit up all night on rocks, and lure people into\nwhirl-pools and things; and I wished I had been a better man, and knew\nmore hymns; and in the middle of these reflections I heard the blessed\nstrains of âHeâs got âem on,â played, badly, on a concertina, and knew\nthat we were saved.\n\nI",".â Nobody seemed quite sure what it was exactly, but they all\nagreed that it sounded Scotch.\n\nStrangers were allowed three guesses, and most of them guessed a\ndifferent tune each time.\n\nHarris was disagreeable after supper,âI think it must have been the stew\nthat had upset him: he is not used to high living,âso George and I left\nhim in the boat, and settled to go for a mouch round Henley. He said he\nshould have a glass of whisky and a pipe","\n\nSo George determined to postpone study of the banjo until he reached\nhome. But he did not get much opportunity even there. Mrs. P. used to\ncome up and say she was very sorryâfor herself, she liked to hear himâbut\nthe lady upstairs was in a very delicate state, and the doctor was afraid\nit might injure the child.\n\nThen George tried taking it out with him late at night, and practising\nround the square. But the inhabitants complained to the police about it,\nand a watch was set for him","had\nheard the victimâs shrieks and the brutal oaths and curses of the\nmurderer, followed by the prayer for mercy, and the last dying gurgle of\nthe corpse.\n\nSo they let him practise in the day-time, in the back-kitchen with all\nthe doors shut; but his more successful passages could generally be heard\nin the sitting-room, in spite of these precautions, and would affect his\nmother almost to tears.\n\nShe said it put her in mind of her poor father (he had","all the rage this season; everybody has got them up the river.\nItâs a banjo.â\n\nâI never knew you played the banjo!â cried Harris and I, in one breath.\n\nâNot exactly,â replied George: âbut itâs very easy, they tell me; and\nIâve got the instruction book!â\n\n [Picture: George and the banjo]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n\nGeorge is introduced","the unequal\ncontest and retires_; _his place being taken by a stronger-nerved man_.\n\nTHE NEW PIANIST (_cheerily_): âNow then, old man, you start off, and Iâll\nfollow. We wonât bother about any prelude.â\n\nHARRIS (_upon whom the explanation of matters has slowly\ndawnedâlaughing_): âBy Jove! I beg your pardon. Of courseâIâve"],[", and then you will come to the Stag.â\n\nWe said:\n\nâOh, we had been there, and didnât like itâno honeysuckle over it.â\n\nâWell, then,â he said, âthereâs the Manor House, just opposite. Have you\ntried that?â\n\nHarris replied that we did not want to go thereâdidnât like the looks of\na man who was","Change\nof scene, and absence of the necessity for thought, will restore the\nmental equilibrium.â\n\nGeorge has a cousin, who is usually described in the charge-sheet as a\nmedical student, so that he naturally has a somewhat family-physicianary\nway of putting things.\n\nI agreed with George, and suggested that we should seek out some retired\nand old-world spot, far from the madding crowd, and dream away a sunny\nweek among its drowsy lanesâsome half-forgotten nook, hidden away by the\n","umpy. He said he knew the sort of\nplace I meant; where everybody went to bed at eight oâclock, and you\ncouldnât get a _Referee_ for love or money, and had to walk ten miles to\nget your baccy.\n\nâNo,â said Harris, âif you want rest and change, you canât beat a sea\ntrip.â\n\nI objected to the sea trip strongly. A sea trip does you good when you\nare going to have a couple","away from the world,\nwith its sin and temptation, leading sober, peaceful lives, and doing\ngood. I said it was the sort of thing I had often longed for myself; and\nwe discussed the possibility of our going away, we four, to some handy,\nwell-fitted desert island, and living there in the woods.\n\nHarris said that the danger about desert islands, as far as he had heard,\nwas that they were so damp: but George said no, not if properly drained.\n\nAnd then we got on to drains, and that put George","us, we none of us could be sure of; but the unanimous opinion\nwas that itâwhatever it wasâhad been brought on by overwork.\n\nâWhat we want is rest,â said Harris.\n\nâRest and a complete change,â said George. âThe overstrain upon our\nbrains has produced a general depression throughout the system. Change\nof scene, and absence of the necessity for thought, will restore the\nmental equilibrium.â\n\nGeorge has a cousin,","for this sort of thing, and make\npeople keep to it?â you mutter; and you rush back to the hall and get\nyour umbrella and go out.\n\nIt must have been much like this when that foolish boy Henry VIII. was\ncourting his little Anne. People in Buckinghamshire would have come upon\nthem unexpectedly when they were mooning round Windsor and Wraysbury, and\nhave exclaimed, âOh! you here!â and Henry would have blushed and said,\nâYes; heâ","CHAPTER II.\n\n\nPlans discussed.âPleasures of âcamping-out,â on fine nights.âDitto, wet\nnights.âCompromise decided on.âMontmorency, first impressions of.âFears\nlest he is too good for this world, fears subsequently dismissed as\ngroundless.âMeeting adjourns.\n\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\n\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\n",", we could go and see that\ntomb. I donât believe heâs at the bank at all. Heâs larking about\nsomewhere, thatâs what heâs doing, leaving us to do all the work. Iâm\ngoing to get out, and have a drink.â\n\nI pointed out to him that we were miles away from a pub.; and then he\nwent on about the river, and what was the good of the river, and was\neveryone who came","liked, and have some people made to put in. For his part, he\nwas going back to the Stag.\n\nThe greatest minds never realise their ideals in any matter; and Harris\nand I sighed over the hollowness of all earthly desires, and followed\nGeorge.\n\nWe took our traps into the Stag, and laid them down in the hall.\n\nThe landlord came up and said:\n\nâGood evening, gentlemen.â\n\nâOh, good evening,â said George; âwe","â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\n\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\nput it straight.\n\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\nHarr","Visitors said they had never noticed before how strong the\nair was, and weak-chested and consumptive people used to throng there for\nyears afterwards.\n\nFond as I am of cheese, therefore, I hold that George was right in\ndeclining to take any.\n\nâWe shanât want any tea,â said George (Harrisâs face fell at this); âbut\nweâll have a good round, square, slap-up meal at sevenâdinner, tea,","said he\nwouldnât have joined if it hadnât been for the idea of seeing Mrs.\nThomasâs tomb.\n\nI reminded him of George, and how we had to get the boat up to Shepperton\nby five oâclock to meet him, and then he went for George. Why was George\nto fool about all day, and leave us to lug this lumbering old top-heavy\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\nGe","ncy] The only one who was not struck with the\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\nMontmorency.\n\nâItâs all very well for you fellows,â he says; âyou like it, but _I_\ndonât. Thereâs nothing for me to do. Scenery is not in my line, and I\ndonât smoke. If I see a rat, you wonât stop; and","up the river. It stands on\nthe right of the bridge, quite away from the village. Its low-pitched\ngables and thatched roof and latticed windows give it quite a story-book\nappearance, while inside it is even still more once-upon-a-timeyfied.\n\nIt would not be a good place for the heroine of a modern novel to stay\nat. The heroine of a modern novel is always âdivinely tall,â and she is\never âdrawing herself up to her full height.","at\nSkiplake and Henley would be crammed; and we could not go round, knocking\nup cottagers and householders in the middle of the night, to know if they\nlet apartments! George suggested walking back to Henley and assaulting a\npoliceman, and so getting a nightâs lodging in the station-house. But\nthen there was the thought, âSuppose he only hits us back and refuses to\nlock us up!â\n\nWe could not pass the whole night fighting policemen. Besides, we","snatched up long ago.\n\nDid she know of any place in the whole village where we could get shelter\nfor the night?\n\nâWell, if we didnât mind roughing itâshe did not recommend it, mindâbut\nthere was a little beershop half a mile down the Eton roadââ\n\nWe waited to hear no more; we caught up the hamper and the bags, and the\ncoats and rugs, and parcels, and ran. The distance seemed more like a\nmile than half","and dream away a sunny\nweek among its drowsy lanesâsome half-forgotten nook, hidden away by the\nfairies, out of reach of the noisy worldâsome quaint-perched eyrie on the\ncliffs of Time, from whence the surging waves of the nineteenth century\nwould sound far-off and faint.\n\nHarris said he thought it would be humpy. He said he knew the sort of\nplace I meant; where everybody went to bed at eight oâclock, and you\ncould","themselves, and try and protect\nthemselves with their lace parasols.\n\nAt lunch they had a very bad time of it. People wanted them to sit on\nthe grass, and the grass was dusty; and the tree-trunks, against which\nthey were invited to lean, did not appear to have been brushed for weeks;\nso they spread their handkerchiefs on the ground and sat on those, bolt\nupright. Somebody, in walking about with a plate of beef-steak pie,\ntripped up over a root, and sent the pie flying","you are all three speechless, owing to having caught\nsevere colds in the night; you also feel very quarrelsome, and you swear\nat each other in hoarse whispers during the whole of breakfast time.\n\nWe therefore decided that we would sleep out on fine nights; and hotel\nit, and inn it, and pub. it, like respectable folks, when it was wet, or\nwhen we felt inclined for a change.\n\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy;","it.\n\nThe people at the Manor House did not wait to hear us talk. The landlady\nmet us on the doorstep with the greeting that we were the fourteenth\nparty she had turned away within the last hour and a half. As for our\nmeek suggestions of stables, billiard-room, or coal-cellars, she laughed\nthem all to scorn: all these nooks had been snatched up long ago.\n\nDid she know of any place in the whole village where we could get shelter\nfor the night?\n\nâ"],["â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\n\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\nput it straight.\n\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\nHarr","rip.â\n\nI objected to the sea trip strongly. A sea trip does you good when you\nare going to have a couple of months of it, but, for a week, it is\nwicked.\n\nYou start on Monday with the idea implanted in your bosom that you are\ngoing to enjoy yourself. You wave an airy adieu to the boys on shore,\nlight your biggest pipe, and swagger about the deck as if you were\nCaptain Cook, Sir Francis Drake, and Christopher Columbus all rolled into\none. On Tuesday, you","\nâSea-side!â said my brother-in-law, pressing the ticket affectionately\ninto his hand; âwhy, youâll have enough to last you a lifetime; and as\nfor exercise! why, youâll get more exercise, sitting down on that ship,\nthan you would turning somersaults on dry land.â\n\nHe himselfâmy brother-in-lawâcame back by train. He said the\nNorth-Western Railway was healthy enough for him.\n\n","ed people ask you how you feel now. On Sunday, you\nbegin to walk about again, and take solid food. And on Monday morning,\nas, with your bag and umbrella in your hand, you stand by the gunwale,\nwaiting to step ashore, you begin to thoroughly like it.\n\nI remember my brother-in-law going for a short sea trip once, for the\nbenefit of his health. He took a return berth from London to Liverpool;\nand when he got to Liverpool, the only thing he was anxious about was to\ns","said he had often wished to be, but had never been able.\n\nThen he told us anecdotes of how he had gone across the Channel when it\nwas so rough that the passengers had to be tied into their berths, and he\nand the captain were the only two living souls on board who were not ill.\nSometimes it was he and the second mate who were not ill; but it was\ngenerally he and one other man. If not he and another man, then it was\nhe by himself.\n\nIt is a curious fact, but nobody ever is sea","\n\nI said:\n\nâWerenât you a little shaky by Southend Pier one day, and wanted to be\nthrown overboard?â\n\nâSouthend Pier!â he replied, with a puzzled expression.\n\nâYes; going down to Yarmouth, last Friday three weeks.â\n\nâOh, ahâyes,â he answered, brightening up; âI remember now. I did have a\nheadache that afternoon. ","other man. If not he and another man, then it was\nhe by himself.\n\nIt is a curious fact, but nobody ever is sea-sickâon land. At sea, you\ncome across plenty of people very bad indeed, whole boat-loads of them;\nbut I never met a man yet, on land, who had ever known at all what it was\nto be sea-sick. Where the thousands upon thousands of bad sailors that\nswarm in every ship hide themselves when they are on land is a mystery.\n\nIf most men were like a","room of a Bath hotel,\ntalking about his voyages, and explaining, with enthusiasm, how he loved\nthe sea.\n\nâGood sailor!â he replied in answer to a mild young manâs envious query;\nâwell, I did feel a little queer _once_, I confess. It was off Cape\nHorn. The vessel was wrecked the next morning.â\n\nI said:\n\nâWerenât you a little shaky by Southend Pier one day, and wanted to",". But I was afraid for George. George said\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\nHarris and me not to think of it, as he felt sure we should both be ill.\nHarris said that, to himself, it was always a mystery how people managed\nto get sick at seaâsaid he thought people must do it on purpose, from\naffectationâsaid he had often wished to be, but had never been able.\n\nThen he told us anecdotes of how he had gone across","up to him to try and\nsave him.\n\nâHi! come further in,â I said, shaking him by the shoulder. âYouâll be\noverboard.â\n\nâOh my! I wish I was,â was the only answer I could get; and there I had\nto leave him.\n\nThree weeks afterwards, I met him in the coffee-room of a Bath hotel,\ntalking about his voyages, and explaining, with enthusiasm, how he loved\nthe sea.\n\nâ","balancing myself. You stand in the centre of the deck,\nand, as the ship heaves and pitches, you move your body about, so as to\nkeep it always straight. When the front of the ship rises, you lean\nforward, till the deck almost touches your nose; and when its back end\ngets up, you lean backwards. This is all very well for an hour or two;\nbut you canât balance yourself for a week.\n\nGeorge said:\n\nâLetâs go up the river.â\n","had been very little good\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\n\nâWell, hang it all, Iâve done more than old J., anyhow,â rejoined Harris.\n\nâWell, you couldnât very well have done less,â added George.\n\nâI suppose J. thinks he is the passenger,â continued Harris.\n\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston,","to huddle myself up in my arms and hop, shivering, through six\ninches of water. And when I do get to the sea, it is rough and quite\ninsulting.\n\nOne huge wave catches me up and chucks me in a sitting posture, as hard\nas ever it can, down on to a rock which has been put there for me. And,\nbefore Iâve said âOh! Ugh!â and found out what has gone, the wave comes\nback and carries me out to mid-ocean. ","upon thousands of bad sailors that\nswarm in every ship hide themselves when they are on land is a mystery.\n\nIf most men were like a fellow I saw on the Yarmouth boat one day, I\ncould account for the seeming enigma easily enough. It was just off\nSouthend Pier, I recollect, and he was leaning out through one of the\nport-holes in a very dangerous position. I went up to him to try and\nsave him.\n\nâHi! come further in,â I said, shaking him by the shoulder","umpy. He said he knew the sort of\nplace I meant; where everybody went to bed at eight oâclock, and you\ncouldnât get a _Referee_ for love or money, and had to walk ten miles to\nget your baccy.\n\nâNo,â said Harris, âif you want rest and change, you canât beat a sea\ntrip.â\n\nI objected to the sea trip strongly. A sea trip does you good when you\nare going to have a couple","(I mean that the biscuits were thin, not the captain)\nand soda-water; but, towards Saturday, he got uppish, and went in for\nweak tea and dry toast, and on Monday he was gorging himself on chicken\nbroth. He left the ship on Tuesday, and as it steamed away from the\nlanding-stage he gazed after it regretfully.\n\nâThere she goes,â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that","tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\n\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.?â\n\nI said I generally preferred to sleep _inside_ a bed.\n\nHarris said it was old.\n\nGeorge said:\n\nâWhat time shall I wake you fellows?â\n\nHarris said:\n\nâSeven.â\n\nI said:\n\nâNoâsix,â because I wanted to write some","times\nthey were carried under it again, and every time âcoxâ looked up and saw\nthe bridge above him he broke out into renewed sobs.\n\nGeorge said he little thought that afternoon that he should ever come to\nreally like boating.\n\nHarris is more accustomed to sea rowing than to river work, and says\nthat, as an exercise, he prefers it. I donât. I remember taking a small\nboat out at Eastbourne last summer: I used to do a good deal of sea\nrow",", told them it was\njolly fun, boating!\n\nThe tide was running out pretty rapidly when they reached the\nlanding-stage, and there was a stiff breeze blowing across the river, but\nthis did not trouble them at all, and they proceeded to select their\nboat.\n\nThere was an eight-oared racing outrigger drawn up on the stage; that was\nthe one that took their fancy. They said theyâd have that one, please.\nThe boatman was away, and only his boy was in charge. The boy tried to\nd","ering about the boat with\nthe lantern, looking for his clothes. He seemed to be worrying about his\nclothes all night.\n\nTwice he routed up George and myself to see if we were lying on his\ntrousers. George got quite wild the second time.\n\nâWhat the thunder do you want your trousers for, in the middle of the\nnight?â he asked indignantly. âWhy donât you lie down, and go to sleep?â\n\nI found him in trouble, the next"],["\n\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy; and if a trifle low, so\nmuch the jollier. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was\nan angel sent upon the earth, for some reason withheld from mankind, in\nthe shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-","a sort of\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-do-something-to-\nmake-it-better-and-nobler expression about Montmorency that has been\nknown to bring the tears into the eyes of pious old ladies and gentlemen.\n\nWhen first he came to live at my expense, I never thought I should be\nable to get him to stop long. I used to sit down and look at him, as he\nsat on the rug and looked up at me,","a pleasure. Sure you donât want anything,\nnow?â\n\nMONTMORENCY (_still backing_): âNot at all, thanksânot at allâvery kind\nof you. Good morning.â\n\nTHE CAT: âGood-morning.â\n\nThen the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\nan unimportant position in the","â he exclaimed, indignantly.\n\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\n\nâStand still, canât you!â roared George, flying after him.\n\nAnd they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.\n\nMontmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorencyâs ambition in life, is\nto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he\nparticularly is not wanted",". At the first sound the\nkettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threatening\nattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and it\nup and spit at him.\n\n[Picture: Montmorency and the kettle] âAh! would ye!â growled\nMontmorency, showing his teeth; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty","âthe sort of cry\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\nafter his prey.\n\nHis victim was a large black Tom. I never saw a larger cat, nor a more\ndisreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears,\nand a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long,\nsinewy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\n\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of","venture his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\nshillings by backing him to kill rats against time, then I began to think\nthat maybe theyâd let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.\n\nTo hang about a stable, and collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs\nto be found in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâ",", coming back, Montmorency made an awful ass\nof himself. The only subject on which Montmorency and I have any serious\ndifference of opinion is cats. I like cats; Montmorency does not.\n\n[Picture: Cat] When I meet a cat, I say, âPoor Pussy!â and stop down and\ntickle the side of its head; and the cat sticks up its tail in a rigid,\ncast-iron manner, arches its back, and wipes its nose up against my\ntrousers; and","ât had any dinner). It seems to suit everybody, however, which is\ngreatly to its credit.\n\nIt suited me to a âTâ too, and Harris and I both said it was a good idea\nof Georgeâs; and we said it in a tone that seemed to somehow imply that\nwe were surprised that George should have come out so sensible.\n\n[Picture: Montmorency] The only one who was not struck with the\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did","river, to get a little practice, but it\nwas never a success. Harrisâs language used to be enough to unnerve any\nman; added to which, Montmorency would sit and howl steadily, right\nthrough the performance. It was not giving the man a fair chance.\n\nâWhatâs he want to howl like that for when Iâm playing?â George would\nexclaim indignantly, while taking aim at him with a boot.\n\nâWhat do you want to play like that","George and Harris and\nMontmorency are not poetic ideals_, _but things of flesh and\nbloodâespecially George_, _who weighs about twelve stone_. _Other works\nmay excel this in depth of thought and knowledge of human nature: other\nbooks may rival it in originality and size_; _but_, _for hopeless and\nincurable veracity_, _nothing yet discovered can surpass it_. _This_,\n_more than all its other charms_, _will_, _it is felt_, _make the volume\nprecious in the eye","gentleman, who may\noften be met with about these regions, during the summer months, sculling\nhimself along in easy vigorous style, or chatting genially to some old\nlock-keeper, as he passes throughâuntil well the other side of Henley, it\nis somewhat bare and dull.\n\nWe got up tolerably early on the Monday morning at Marlow, and went for a\nbathe before breakfast; and, coming back, Montmorency made an awful ass\nof himself. The only subject on which Montmorency and I have any serious\n","you are all three speechless, owing to having caught\nsevere colds in the night; you also feel very quarrelsome, and you swear\nat each other in hoarse whispers during the whole of breakfast time.\n\nWe therefore decided that we would sleep out on fine nights; and hotel\nit, and inn it, and pub. it, like respectable folks, when it was wet, or\nwhen we felt inclined for a change.\n\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy;","\nWe had been sitting huddled up in our rugs while George had been telling\nme this true story, and on his finishing it I set to work to wake up\nHarris with a scull. The third prod did it: and he turned over on the\nother side, and said he would be down in a minute, and that he would have\nhis lace-up boots. We soon let him know where he was, however, by the\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\nbeen sleeping the sleep of","; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye.\nCome on!â\n\nAnd he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout.\n\nThen, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp, and\nMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\nthen to","ncy] The only one who was not struck with the\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\nMontmorency.\n\nâItâs all very well for you fellows,â he says; âyou like it, but _I_\ndonât. Thereâs nothing for me to do. Scenery is not in my line, and I\ndonât smoke. If I see a rat, you wonât stop; and","up its tail in a rigid,\ncast-iron manner, arches its back, and wipes its nose up against my\ntrousers; and all is gentleness and peace. When Montmorency meets a cat,\nthe whole street knows about it; and there is enough bad language wasted\nin ten seconds to last an ordinarily respectable man all his life, with\ncare.\n\nI do not blame the dog (contenting myself, as a rule, with merely\nclouting his head or throwing stones at him), because I take it that it\nis his nature. Fox","he wished he had not\ngiven way to it that morning.\n\nWe were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-way up the High\nStreet a cat darted out from one of the houses in front of us, and began\nto trot across the road. Montmorency gave a cry of joyâthe cry of a\nstern warrior who sees his enemy given over to his handsâthe sort of cry\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\nafter his prey","morency, fitting what\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\nan unimportant position in the rear.\n\nTo this day, if you say the word âCats!â to Montmorency, he will visibly\nshrink and look up piteously at you, as if to say:\n\nâPlease donât.â\n\nWe did our marketing after breakfast, and revictualled the boat for three\ndays. George said we ought to take vegetablesâ","as for the gravy, it was a poemâa\nlittle too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious.\n\nWe finished up with tea and cherry tart. Montmorency had a fight with\nthe kettle during tea-time, and came off a poor second.\n\nThroughout the trip, he had manifested great curiosity concerning the\nkettle. He would sit and watch it, as it boiled, with a puzzled\nexpression, and would try and rouse it every now and then by growling at\nit"],["\n\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy; and if a trifle low, so\nmuch the jollier. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was\nan angel sent upon the earth, for some reason withheld from mankind, in\nthe shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-",". At the first sound the\nkettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threatening\nattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and it\nup and spit at him.\n\n[Picture: Montmorency and the kettle] âAh! would ye!â growled\nMontmorency, showing his teeth; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty","venture his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\nshillings by backing him to kill rats against time, then I began to think\nthat maybe theyâd let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.\n\nTo hang about a stable, and collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs\nto be found in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâ","; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye.\nCome on!â\n\nAnd he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout.\n\nThen, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp, and\nMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\nthen to","âthe sort of cry\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\nafter his prey.\n\nHis victim was a large black Tom. I never saw a larger cat, nor a more\ndisreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears,\nand a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long,\nsinewy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\n\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of","â he exclaimed, indignantly.\n\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\n\nâStand still, canât you!â roared George, flying after him.\n\nAnd they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.\n\nMontmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorencyâs ambition in life, is\nto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he\nparticularly is not wanted","this disgraceful scene!â\n\nShe said that the people at the Stores had no right to allow great savage\nthings like those other dogs to be put with respectable peopleâs dogs,\nand that she had a great mind to summon somebody.\n\nSuch is the nature of fox-terriers; and, therefore, I do not blame\nMontmorency for his tendency to row with cats; but he wished he had not\ngiven way to it that morning.\n\nWe were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-","up its tail in a rigid,\ncast-iron manner, arches its back, and wipes its nose up against my\ntrousers; and all is gentleness and peace. When Montmorency meets a cat,\nthe whole street knows about it; and there is enough bad language wasted\nin ten seconds to last an ordinarily respectable man all his life, with\ncare.\n\nI do not blame the dog (contenting myself, as a rule, with merely\nclouting his head or throwing stones at him), because I take it that it\nis his nature. Fox","ât had any dinner). It seems to suit everybody, however, which is\ngreatly to its credit.\n\nIt suited me to a âTâ too, and Harris and I both said it was a good idea\nof Georgeâs; and we said it in a tone that seemed to somehow imply that\nwe were surprised that George should have come out so sensible.\n\n[Picture: Montmorency] The only one who was not struck with the\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did","the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\nthen to bury his nose in a bit of cool mud.\n\nFrom that day Montmorency regarded the kettle with a mixture of awe,\nsuspicion, and hate. Whenever he saw it he would growl and back at a\nrapid rate, with his tail shut down, and the moment it was put upon the\nstove he would promptly climb out of the boat, and sit on the bank, till\nthe whole","in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâs idea of âlife;â and so,\nas I before observed, he gave to the suggestion of inns, and pubs., and\nhotels his most emphatic approbation.\n\nHaving thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all\nfour of us, the only thing left to discuss was what we should take with\nus; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said heâ","a sort of\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-do-something-to-\nmake-it-better-and-nobler expression about Montmorency that has been\nknown to bring the tears into the eyes of pious old ladies and gentlemen.\n\nWhen first he came to live at my expense, I never thought I should be\nable to get him to stop long. I used to sit down and look at him, as he\nsat on the rug and looked up at me,","he wished he had not\ngiven way to it that morning.\n\nWe were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-way up the High\nStreet a cat darted out from one of the houses in front of us, and began\nto trot across the road. Montmorency gave a cry of joyâthe cry of a\nstern warrior who sees his enemy given over to his handsâthe sort of cry\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\nafter his prey",".âAnother wet\nday.âFlight.âA little supper and a toast.\n\n[Picture: Dog running] We spent two very pleasant days at Oxford. There\nare plenty of dogs in the town of Oxford. Montmorency had eleven fights\non the first day, and fourteen on the second, and evidently thought he\nhad got to heaven.\n\n[Picture: Dogs fighting] Among folk too constitutionally weak, or too\nconstitutionally lazy, whichever it may be, to relish up-stream work","river, to get a little practice, but it\nwas never a success. Harrisâs language used to be enough to unnerve any\nman; added to which, Montmorency would sit and howl steadily, right\nthrough the performance. It was not giving the man a fair chance.\n\nâWhatâs he want to howl like that for when Iâm playing?â George would\nexclaim indignantly, while taking aim at him with a boot.\n\nâWhat do you want to play like that","wy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\n\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of twenty miles an hour;\nbut the cat did not hurry upâdid not seem to have grasped the idea that\nits life was in danger. It trotted quietly on until its would-be\nassassin was within a yard of it, and then it turned round and sat down\nin the middle of the road, and looked at Montmorency with a gentle,\ninquiring expression, that said:\n\nâ","gentleman, who may\noften be met with about these regions, during the summer months, sculling\nhimself along in easy vigorous style, or chatting genially to some old\nlock-keeper, as he passes throughâuntil well the other side of Henley, it\nis somewhat bare and dull.\n\nWe got up tolerably early on the Monday morning at Marlow, and went for a\nbathe before breakfast; and, coming back, Montmorency made an awful ass\nof himself. The only subject on which Montmorency and I have any serious\n","a pleasure. Sure you donât want anything,\nnow?â\n\nMONTMORENCY (_still backing_): âNot at all, thanksânot at allâvery kind\nof you. Good morning.â\n\nTHE CAT: âGood-morning.â\n\nThen the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\nan unimportant position in the","as for the gravy, it was a poemâa\nlittle too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious.\n\nWe finished up with tea and cherry tart. Montmorency had a fight with\nthe kettle during tea-time, and came off a poor second.\n\nThroughout the trip, he had manifested great curiosity concerning the\nkettle. He would sit and watch it, as it boiled, with a puzzled\nexpression, and would try and rouse it every now and then by growling at\nit","\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\n_The chief beauty of this book lies not so much in its literary style_,\n_or in the extent and usefulness of the information it conveys_, _as in\nits simple truthfulness_. _Its pages form the record of events that\nreally happened_. _All that has been done is to colour them_; _and_,\n_for this_, _no extra charge has been made_. _George and Harris and\nMontmorency are not poetic ideals_, _but things of flesh and\nbloodâespecially George_,"],["I.\n\n\nThree invalids.âSufferings of George and Harris.âA victim to one hundred\nand seven fatal maladies.âUseful prescriptions.âCure for liver complaint\nin children.âWe agree that we are overworked, and need rest.âA week on\nthe rolling deep?âGeorge suggests the River.âMontmorency lodges an\nobjection.âOriginal motion carried by majority of three to one.\n\nThere were four of usâ","there was any known disease going within ten miles of him, he\nhad it, and had it badly. He would take bronchitis in the dog-days, and\nhave hay-fever at Christmas. After a six weeksâ period of drought, he\nwould be stricken down with rheumatic fever; and he would go out in a\nNovember fog and come home with a sunstroke.\n\nThey put him under laughing-gas one year, poor lad, and drew all his\nteeth, and gave him a false set, because he suffered so terribly","Montmorency lodges an\nobjection.âOriginal motion carried by majority of three to one.\n\nThere were four of usâGeorge, and William Samuel Harris, and myself, and\nMontmorency. We were sitting in my room, smoking, and talking about how\nbad we wereâbad from a medical point of view I mean, of course.\n\nWe were all feeling seedy, and we were getting quite nervous about it.\nHarris said he felt such extraordinary fits of giddiness come over him at\ntimes, that he hardly","we were getting quite nervous about it.\nHarris said he felt such extraordinary fits of giddiness come over him at\ntimes, that he hardly knew what he was doing; and then George said that\n_he_ had fits of giddiness too, and hardly knew what _he_ was doing.\nWith me, it was my liver that was out of order. I knew it was my liver\nthat was out of order, because I had just been reading a patent\nliver-pill circular, in which were detailed the various symptoms by which\na man could tell when his liver was out of","I expected, that I had that too,âbegan to get interested\nin my case, and determined to sift it to the bottom, and so started\nalphabeticallyâread up ague, and learnt that I was sickening for it, and\nthat the acute stage would commence in about another fortnight. Brightâs\ndisease, I was relieved to find, I had only in a modified form, and, so\nfar as that was concerned, I might live for years. Cholera I had, with\nsevere complications","wet night down at\nAldershot, âon just such another night as this,â said Harris; and he had\nwoke up in the morning a cripple for life. Harris said he would\nintroduce us both to the man when we got back to town; it would make our\nhearts bleed to see him.\n\nThis naturally led to some pleasant chat about sciatica, fevers, chills,\nlung diseases, and bronchitis; and Harris said how very awkward it would\nbe if one of us were taken seriously ill in the night","\n\nAnd we other boys, who would have sacrificed ten terms of our school-life\nfor the sake of being ill for a day, and had no desire whatever to give\nour parents any excuse for being stuck-up about us, couldnât catch so\nmuch as a stiff neck. We fooled about in draughts, and it did us good,\nand freshened us up; and we took things to make us sick, and they made us\nfat, and gave us an appetite. Nothing we could think of seemed to make\nus ill until the","weak at the time; because I know, after the first\nhalf-hour or so, I seemed to take no interest whatever in my foodâan\nunusual thing for meâand I didnât want any cheese.\n\nThis duty done, we refilled our glasses, lit our pipes, and resumed the\ndiscussion upon our state of health. What it was that was actually the\nmatter with us, we none of us could be sure of; but the unanimous opinion\nwas that itâwhatever it wasâhad","1,\nour neighbourhood was singularly free from it. There was only one\nreputed case in the whole parish: that case was young Stivvings.\n\nHe had to stop in bed when he was ill, and eat chicken and custards and\nhot-house grapes; and he would lie there and sob, because they wouldnât\nlet him do Latin exercises, and took his German grammar away from him.\n\nAnd we other boys, who would have sacrificed ten terms of our school-life\nfor the sake of being ill for a day, and had","while, frozen with horror; and then, in the listlessness of\ndespair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid feverâread the\nsymptomsâdiscovered that I had typhoid fever, must have had it for months\nwithout knowing itâwondered what else I had got; turned up St. Vitusâs\nDanceâfound, as I expected, that I had that too,âbegan to get interested\nin my case, and determined to sift it to the bottom","us, we none of us could be sure of; but the unanimous opinion\nwas that itâwhatever it wasâhad been brought on by overwork.\n\nâWhat we want is rest,â said Harris.\n\nâRest and a complete change,â said George. âThe overstrain upon our\nbrains has produced a general depression throughout the system. Change\nof scene, and absence of the necessity for thought, will restore the\nmental equilibrium.â\n\nGeorge has a cousin,","it\nwith the other. I could only see the tip, and the only thing that I\ncould gain from that was to feel more certain than before that I had\nscarlet fever.\n\n[Picture: Man with walking stick] I had walked into that reading-room a\nhappy, healthy man. I crawled out a decrepit wreck.\n\nI went to my medical man. He is an old chum of mine, and feels my pulse,\nand looks at my tongue, and talks about the weather, all for nothing,\nwhen I fancy Iâm ill","ly turned the\nleaves, and began to indolently study diseases, generally. I forget\nwhich was the first distemper I plunged intoâsome fearful, devastating\nscourge, I knowâand, before I had glanced half down the list of\nâpremonitory symptoms,â it was borne in upon me that I had fairly got it.\n\nI sat for awhile, frozen with horror; and then, in the listlessness of\ndespair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid","rheumatic fever, and nothing was able\nto save him, and he had died in great agony ten days afterwards. George\nsaid he was quite a young man, and was engaged to be married. He said it\nwas one of the saddest things he had ever known.\n\nAnd that put Harris in mind of a friend of his, who had been in the\nVolunteers, and who had slept out under canvas one wet night down at\nAldershot, âon just such another night as this,â said Harris; and he had\nwo","I had the\nsymptoms, beyond all mistake, the chief among them being âa general\ndisinclination to work of any kind.â\n\nWhat I suffer in that way no tongue can tell. From my earliest infancy I\nhave been a martyr to it. As a boy, the disease hardly ever left me for\na day. They did not know, then, that it was my liver. Medical science\nwas in a far less advanced state than now, and they used to put it down\nto laziness.\n\nâWhy,","that they were so damp: but George said no, not if properly drained.\n\nAnd then we got on to drains, and that put George in mind of a very funny\nthing that happened to his father once. He said his father was\ntravelling with another fellow through Wales, and, one night, they\nstopped at a little inn, where there were some other fellows, and they\njoined the other fellows, and spent the evening with them.\n\nThey had a very jolly evening, and sat up late, and, by the time they\ncame to go","him under laughing-gas one year, poor lad, and drew all his\nteeth, and gave him a false set, because he suffered so terribly with\ntoothache; and then it turned to neuralgia and ear-ache. He was never\nwithout a cold, except once for nine weeks while he had scarlet fever;\nand he always had chilblains. During the great cholera scare of 1871,\nour neighbourhood was singularly free from it. There was only one\nreputed case in the whole parish: that case was young",", reminds me of a rather curious\nincident at which I once assisted; which, as it throws much light upon\nthe inner mental working of human nature in general, ought, I think, to\nbe recorded in these pages.\n\nWe were a fashionable and highly cultured party. We had on our best\nclothes, and we talked pretty, and were very happyâall except two young\nfellows, students, just returned from Germany, commonplace young men, who\nseemed restless and uncomfortable, as if they found the proceedings slow.\nThe truth was, we","and feels my pulse,\nand looks at my tongue, and talks about the weather, all for nothing,\nwhen I fancy Iâm ill; so I thought I would do him a good turn by going to\nhim now. âWhat a doctor wants,â I said, âis practice. He shall have me.\nHe will get more practice out of me than out of seventeen hundred of your\nordinary, commonplace patients, with only one or two diseases each.â So\nI went straight up and saw him, and he said:"," _This_,\n_more than all its other charms_, _will_, _it is felt_, _make the volume\nprecious in the eye of the earnest reader_; _and will lend additional\nweight to the lesson that the story teaches_.\n\nLONDON, _August_, 1889.\n\n [Picture: Graphic of three men in a rowing boat]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n\nThree invalids.âSufferings of George and Harris.âA victim to one hundred\nand seven"],["the last two\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\nabout the matter, and also remembers that there was an unusually strong\nstream against them all the wayâlikewise a stiff wind.\n\nâAbout thirty-four miles, I suppose, it must have been,â adds the first\nspeaker, reaching down another cushion to put under his head.\n\nâNoâno; donât exaggerate, Tom,â murmurs Jack, reprovingly",", he gets out\non to the bank, and hides behind a tree.\n\nI was one of a party who hired an up-river boat one summer, for a few\ndaysâ trip. We had none of us ever seen the hired up-river boat before;\nand we did not know what it was when we did see it.\n\nWe had written for a boatâa double sculling skiff; and when we went down\nwith our bags to the yard, and gave our names, the man said:\n\n[Picture: The Pride of the","ful appearance.\n\nâI should like to see him pull the wrong line,â murmured George, as they\npassed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed\nup the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen\nsheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars immediately left the boat on\nthe larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\namong boat","steadily up stream for the last hour and a half; âwhy, Jim Biffles\nand Jack and I, last season, pulled up from Marlow to Goring in one\nafternoonânever stopped once. Do you remember that, Jack?â\n\nJack, who has made himself a bed up in the prow of all the rugs and coats\nhe can collect, and who has been lying there asleep for the last two\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\nabout the matter, and also remem","balancing myself. You stand in the centre of the deck,\nand, as the ship heaves and pitches, you move your body about, so as to\nkeep it always straight. When the front of the ship rises, you lean\nforward, till the deck almost touches your nose; and when its back end\ngets up, you lean backwards. This is all very well for an hour or two;\nbut you canât balance yourself for a week.\n\nGeorge said:\n\nâLetâs go up the river.â\n","this lumbering old top-heavy\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\nGeorge come and do some work? Why couldnât he have got the day off, and\ncome down with us? Bank be blowed! What good was he at the bank?\n\nâI never see him doing any work there,â continued Harris, âwhenever I go\nin. He sits behind a bit of glass all day, trying to look as if he was\ndoing something.","was, in fact, _the_ boat,\nthe âdouble sculling skiffâ selected to take us on our trip down the\nriver.\n\nWe grumbled a good deal. We thought he might, at least, have had it\nwhitewashed or tarredâhad _something_ done to it to distinguish it from a\nbit of a wreck; but he could not see any fault in it.\n\nHe even seemed offended at our remarks. He said he had picked us out the\nbest boat in all his stock, and he thought we might","ncy] The only one who was not struck with the\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\nMontmorency.\n\nâItâs all very well for you fellows,â he says; âyou like it, but _I_\ndonât. Thereâs nothing for me to do. Scenery is not in my line, and I\ndonât smoke. If I see a rat, you wonât stop; and","ns.\n\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\n\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\nI would go down in the morning, and take the boat up to Chertsey, and\nGeorge, who would not be able to get away from the City till the\nafternoon (George goes to sleep at a bank from ten to four each day,\nexcept Saturdays, when they wake him up and put him outside at two),\nwould meet us there.\n\nShould we âcamp outâ or sleep at in","\nIf these men had their way they would close the river Thames altogether.\nThey actually do this along the minor tributary streams and in the\nbackwaters. They drive posts into the bed of the stream, and draw chains\nacross from bank to bank, and nail huge notice-boards on every tree. The\nsight of those notice-boards rouses every evil instinct in my nature. I\nfeel I want to tear each one down, and hammer it over the head of the man\nwho put it up, until I have killed him, and then I would bury him","\nI was steering.\n\nAs we drew nearer, we could see that the three men fishing seemed old and\nsolemn-looking men. They sat on three chairs in the punt, and watched\nintently their lines. And the red sunset threw a mystic light upon the\nwaters, and tinged with fire the towering woods, and made a golden glory\nof the piled-up clouds. It was an hour of deep enchantment, of ecstatic\nhope and longing. The little sail stood out against the purple sky, the\ng",", by the\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\nbeen sleeping the sleep of the just right on the middle of his chest,\nsprawling across the boat.\n\nThen we pulled up the canvas, and all four of us poked our heads out over\nthe off-side, and looked down at the water and shivered. The idea,\novernight, had been that we should get up early in the morning, fling off\nour rugs and shawls, and, throwing back the canvas, spring into the","diving-board by young men\nnow who wish to see if the place really _is_ dangerous.\n\n [Picture: River scene]\n\nIffley Lock and Mill, a mile before you reach Oxford, is a favourite\nsubject with the river-loving brethren of the brush. The real article,\nhowever, is rather disappointing, after the pictures. Few things, I have\nnoticed, come quite up to the pictures of them, in this world.\n\nWe passed through Iffley Lock at about half-past twelve, and then","but the posts and\nchains a little skill will easily avoid; and as for the boards, you\nmight, if you have five minutes to spare, and there is nobody about, take\none or two of them down and throw them into the river.\n\nHalf-way up the backwater, we got out and lunched; and it was during this\nlunch that George and I received rather a trying shock.\n\nHarris received a shock, too; but I do not think Harrisâs shock could\nhave been anything like so bad as the shock that George and I","a mile of distance.\n\nOf course, its entrance is studded with posts and chains, and surrounded\nwith notice boards, menacing all kinds of torture, imprisonment, and\ndeath to everyone who dares set scull upon its watersâI wonder some of\nthese riparian boors donât claim the air of the river and threaten\neveryone with forty shillings fine who breathes itâbut the posts and\nchains a little skill will easily avoid; and as for the boards, you\nmight, if you have five minutes to","City, so\nhe explained. Harris, who is callous in his nature, and not prone to\npity, said:\n\nâAh! and now you are going to have a hard time on the river for a change;\nchange is good for everyone. Out you get!â\n\nHe could not in conscienceânot even Georgeâs conscienceâobject, though he\ndid suggest that, perhaps, it would be better for him to stop in the\nboat, and get tea ready, while Harris and I towed, because getting tea",", told them it was\njolly fun, boating!\n\nThe tide was running out pretty rapidly when they reached the\nlanding-stage, and there was a stiff breeze blowing across the river, but\nthis did not trouble them at all, and they proceeded to select their\nboat.\n\nThere was an eight-oared racing outrigger drawn up on the stage; that was\nthe one that took their fancy. They said theyâd have that one, please.\nThe boatman was away, and only his boy was in charge. The boy tried to\nd","far away and\nlittle; and the clouds, so close above your head, are brothers, and you\nstretch your arms to them.\n\nWe had the river to ourselves, except that, far in the distance, we could\nsee a fishing-punt, moored in mid-stream, on which three fishermen sat;\nand we skimmed over the water, and passed the wooded banks, and no one\nspoke.\n\nI was steering.\n\nAs we drew nearer, we could see that the three men fishing seemed old and\nsolemn-looking men","took a âraw\nâunâ up with us once last season, and we plied him with the customary\nstretchers about the wonderful things we had done all the way up.\n\nWe gave him all the regular onesâthe time-honoured lies that have done\nduty up the river with every boating-man for years pastâand added seven\nentirely original ones that we had invented for ourselves, including a\nreally quite likely story, founded, to a certain extent, on an all but\ntrue episode, which had","âWhy, bless us, whereâs your eyes?â was the manâs comment, as he twisted\nGeorge round and pointed up and down the stream. âThereâs enough of it\nto see, ainât there?â\n\nâOh!â exclaimed George, grasping the idea; âbut we canât drink the river,\nyou know!â\n\nâNo; but you can drink _some_ of it,â"],["about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâs friends,\nwho had evidently sworn never to forsake him, we drove away amidst the\ncheers of the crowd, Biggsâs boy shying a carrot after us for luck.\n\nWe got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\ntrain is going to start from, or where","and begin again. For the beginning again part\nof it there was not much enthusiasm; but with regard to the advisability\nof going back to the entrance there was complete unanimity, and so they\nturned, and trailed after Harris again, in the opposite direction. About\nten minutes more passed, and then they found themselves in the centre.\n\nHarris thought at first of pretending that that was what he had been\naiming at; but the crowd looked dangerous, and he decided to treat it as\nan accident.\n\nAnyhow, they had got something to start from","real thing, and only misleading. It was a country\ncousin that Harris took in. He said:\n\nâWeâll just go in here, so that you can say youâve been, but itâs very\nsimple. Itâs absurd to call it a maze. You keep on taking the first\nturning to the right. Weâll just walk round for ten minutes, and then go\nand get some lunch.â\n\nThey met some people soon after they had got inside","The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\nfrom the local.\n\nTo put an end to the matter, we went upstairs, and asked the traffic\nsuperintendent, and he told us that he had just met a man, who said he\nhad seen it at number three platform. We went to number three platform,\nbut the authorities there said that they rather thought that train was\nthe Southampton express, or else the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnâ","blessing him. Harris\nsaid he should judge there must have been twenty people, following him,\nin all; and one woman with a baby, who had been there all the morning,\ninsisted on taking his arm, for fear of losing him.\n\nHarris kept on turning to the right, but it seemed a long way, and his\ncousin said he supposed it was a very big maze.\n\nâOh, one of the largest in Europe,â said Harris.\n\nâYes, it must be,â replied the cousin,","t get anywhere else. Whatever way they\nturned brought them back to the middle. It became so regular at length,\nthat some of the people stopped there, and waited for the others to take\na walk round, and come back to them. Harris drew out his map again,\nafter a while, but the sight of it only infuriated the mob, and they told\nhim to go and curl his hair with it. Harris said that he couldnât help\nfeeling that, to a certain extent, he had become unpopular.\n\nThey all got crazy at","d ever been in the\nmaze at Hampton Court. He said he went in once to show somebody else the\nway. He had studied it up in a map, and it was so simple that it seemed\nfoolishâhardly worth the twopence charged for admission. Harris said he\nthought that map must have been got up as a practical joke, because it\nwasnât a bit like the real thing, and only misleading. It was a country\ncousin that Harris took in. He said:\n\nâWe","he was\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\nthat he rather thought he was. Anyhow, if he wasnât the 11.5 for\nKingston, he said he was pretty confident he was the 9.32 for Virginia\nWater, or the 10 a.m. express for the Isle of Wight, or somewhere in that\ndirection, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be",", one of the largest in Europe,â said Harris.\n\nâYes, it must be,â replied the cousin, âbecause weâve walked a good two\nmiles already.â\n\nHarris began to think it rather strange himself, but he held on until, at\nlast, they passed the half of a penny bun on the ground that Harrisâs\ncousin swore he had noticed there seven minutes ago. Harris said: âOh,\nimpossible!â but the woman","\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for it,\nand nobody knew what had become of it.\n\nOur boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we\nwended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we\nstepped.\n\nâAre you all right, sir?â said the man.\n\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the","\nThey did scrape it out at last, and put it down on a chair, and Harris\nsat on it, and it stuck to him, and they went looking for it all over the\nroom.\n\nâIâll take my oath I put it down on that chair,â said George, staring at\nthe empty seat.\n\nâI saw you do it myself, not a minute ago,â said Harris.\n\nThen they started round the room again looking for it; and then they met\nagain in the centre, and stared at one","was that young man as dense-headed as we\nthought? or was heâno, impossible! there was such a simple, child-like\nexpression about him!\n\nHarris wanted to get out at Hampton Church, to go and see Mrs. Thomasâs\ntomb.\n\nâWho is Mrs. Thomas?â I asked.\n\nâHow should I know?â replied Harris. âSheâs a lady thatâs got a funny\ntomb, and I want to see","ll just walk round for ten minutes, and then go\nand get some lunch.â\n\nThey met some people soon after they had got inside, who said they had\nbeen there for three-quarters of an hour, and had had about enough of it.\nHarris told them they could follow him, if they liked; he was just going\nin, and then should turn round and come out again. They said it was very\nkind of him, and fell behind, and followed.\n\nThey picked up various other people who wanted to get it over, as they\nwent along","-five started\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\ntrain is going to start from, or where a train when it does start is\ngoing to, or anything about it. The porter who took our things thought\nit would go from number two platform, while another porter, with whom he\ndiscussed the question, had heard a rumour that it would go from number\none. The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\nfrom the local.\n\nTo put an end to the matter, we went","him, every\nnow and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see\nthem, and rush to get to them, and they would wait there for about five\nminutes, and then he would reappear again in exactly the same spot, and\nask them where they had been.\n\nThey had to wait till one of the old keepers came back from his dinner\nbefore they got out.\n\nHarris said he thought it was a very fine maze, so far as he was a judge;\nand we agreed that we would try to get George to"," said Harris.\n\nThen they started round the room again looking for it; and then they met\nagain in the centre, and stared at one another.\n\nâMost extraordinary thing I ever heard of,â said George.\n\nâSo mysterious!â said Harris.\n\nThen George got round at the back of Harris and saw it.\n\nâWhy, here it is all the time,â he exclaimed, indignantly.\n\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\n\nâ","ourselves; and he laughed pleasantly, and said that some\npeople made such a fuss over a little thing. But even he grew strangely\ndepressed after we had started, and so, when we reached Crewe, I asked\nhim to come and have a drink. He accepted, and we forced our way into\nthe buffet, where we yelled, and stamped, and waved our umbrellas for a\nquarter of an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted\nanything.\n\nâWhatâs yours?","âSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\nnor gaudy costume:\n\nBlack leather shoes, dirty; suit of boating flannels, very dirty; brown\nfelt hat, much battered; mackintosh, very wet; umbrella.\n\nWe had deceived the boatman at Pangbourne. We had not had the face to\ntell him that we were running away from the rain. We had left the boat,\nand all it contained, in his charge, with instructions that it was to be\nready for",":\n\nâI say, Tom!â\n\nâYes!â\n\nâHow have you got on?â\n\nâWell, to tell you the truth, my manâs chucked _me_ out.â\n\nâSoâs mine! I say, I donât think much of this inn, do you?â\n\nâWhat was the name of that inn?â said Harris.\n\nâThe Pig","cousin swore he had noticed there seven minutes ago. Harris said: âOh,\nimpossible!â but the woman with the baby said, âNot at all,â as she\nherself had taken it from the child, and thrown it down there, just\nbefore she met Harris. She also added that she wished she never had met\nHarris, and expressed an opinion that he was an impostor. That made\nHarris mad, and he produced his map, and explained his theory.\n\nâThe map"],["had been very little good\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\n\nâWell, hang it all, Iâve done more than old J., anyhow,â rejoined Harris.\n\nâWell, you couldnât very well have done less,â added George.\n\nâI suppose J. thinks he is the passenger,â continued Harris.\n\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston,","CHAPTER II.\n\n\nPlans discussed.âPleasures of âcamping-out,â on fine nights.âDitto, wet\nnights.âCompromise decided on.âMontmorency, first impressions of.âFears\nlest he is too good for this world, fears subsequently dismissed as\ngroundless.âMeeting adjourns.\n\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\n\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\n","\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for it,\nand nobody knew what had become of it.\n\nOur boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we\nwended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we\nstepped.\n\nâAre you all right, sir?â said the man.\n\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the","him. George, on the other hand, ridiculed the idea of\nHarrisâs having done anything more than eat and sleep, and had a\ncast-iron opinion that it was heâGeorge himselfâwho had done all the\nlabour worth speaking of.\n\nHe said he had never been out with such a couple of lazily skulks as\nHarris and I.\n\nThat amused Harris.\n\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\nhalf","ns.\n\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\n\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\nI would go down in the morning, and take the boat up to Chertsey, and\nGeorge, who would not be able to get away from the City till the\nafternoon (George goes to sleep at a bank from ten to four each day,\nexcept Saturdays, when they wake him up and put him outside at two),\nwould meet us there.\n\nShould we âcamp outâ or sleep at in","inns, and take a seat in the\ntap-room. You will be nearly sure to meet one or two old rod-men,\nsipping their toddy there, and they will tell you enough fishy stories,\nin half an hour, to give you indigestion for a month.\n\nGeorge and IâI donât know what had become of Harris; he had gone out and\nhad a shave, early in the afternoon, and had then come back and spent\nfull forty minutes in pipeclaying his shoes, we had not seen","That amused Harris.\n\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\nhalf-an-hour of it would kill him. Have you ever seen George work?â he\nadded, turning to me.\n\nI agreed with Harris that I never hadâmost certainly not since we had\nstarted on this trip.\n\nâWell, I donât see how _you_ can know much about it, one way or the\nother,â George retorted on Harris; â","George and Harris again\nshirk their work.âRather a hackneyed story.âStreatley and Goring.\n\nWe came in sight of Reading about eleven. The river is dirty and dismal\nhere. One does not linger in the neighbourhood of Reading. The town\nitself is a famous old place, dating from the dim days of King Ethelred,\nwhen the Danes anchored their warships in the Kennet, and started from\nReading to ravage all the land of Wessex; and here Ethel","\nWe had been sitting huddled up in our rugs while George had been telling\nme this true story, and on his finishing it I set to work to wake up\nHarris with a scull. The third prod did it: and he turned over on the\nother side, and said he would be down in a minute, and that he would have\nhis lace-up boots. We soon let him know where he was, however, by the\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\nbeen sleeping the sleep of","Harrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\nfamily-man puts up a picture.âGeorge makes a sensible, remark.âDelights\nof early morning bathing.âProvisions for getting upset.\n\nSo, on the following evening, we again assembled, to discuss and arrange\nour plans. Harris said:\n\nâNow, the first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery","the vision faded, and the knight, kneeling upon the ground, thanked\nthe good saint who into that sad wood had strayed his steps, so he had\nseen the vision that lay there hid.\n\nAnd the name of the dark forest was Sorrow; but of the vision that the\ngood knight saw therein we may not speak nor tell.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n\nHow George, once upon a time, got up early in the morning.âGeorge,\nHarris, and Montmorency do not like the look of the cold","felt thirsty (I never knew George\nwhen he didnât); and, as I had a presentiment that a little whisky, warm,\nwith a slice of lemon, would do my complaint good, the debate was, by\ncommon assent, adjourned to the following night; and the assembly put on\nits hats and went out.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n\nArrangements settled.âHarrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\nfamily-man puts up a picture.â","continued Harris.\n\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston, and for having\nsuperintended and managed everything for them, and taken care of them,\nand slaved for them. It is the way of the world.\n\nWe settled the present difficulty by arranging that Harris and George\nshould scull up past Reading, and that I should tow the boat on from\nthere. Pulling a heavy boat against a strong stream has few attractions\nfor me now. There was a time, long ago","him, every\nnow and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see\nthem, and rush to get to them, and they would wait there for about five\nminutes, and then he would reappear again in exactly the same spot, and\nask them where they had been.\n\nThey had to wait till one of the old keepers came back from his dinner\nbefore they got out.\n\nHarris said he thought it was a very fine maze, so far as he was a judge;\nand we agreed that we would try to get George to","tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\n\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.?â\n\nI said I generally preferred to sleep _inside_ a bed.\n\nHarris said it was old.\n\nGeorge said:\n\nâWhat time shall I wake you fellows?â\n\nHarris said:\n\nâSeven.â\n\nI said:\n\nâNoâsix,â because I wanted to write some","this lumbering old top-heavy\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\nGeorge come and do some work? Why couldnât he have got the day off, and\ncome down with us? Bank be blowed! What good was he at the bank?\n\nâI never see him doing any work there,â continued Harris, âwhenever I go\nin. He sits behind a bit of glass all day, trying to look as if he was\ndoing something.",".\n\nâAinât you going to put the boots in?â said Harris.\n\nAnd I looked round, and found I had forgotten them. Thatâs just like\nHarris. He couldnât have said a word until Iâd got the bag shut and\nstrapped, of course. And George laughedâone of those irritating,\nsenseless, chuckle-headed, crack-jawed laughs of his. They do make me so\nwild.\n\nI","all right, sir?â said the man.\n\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the sculls and I at the\ntiller-lines, and Montmorency, unhappy and deeply suspicious, in the\nprow, out we shot on to the waters which, for a fortnight, were to be our\nhome.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\nKingston.âInstructive remarks on early English history.âInstructive\nobservations on carved oak and life in general.â","informant;\nâbecause they are the only two inns in the place.â\n\nâNo other inns!â exclaimed Harris.\n\nâNone,â replied the man.\n\nâWhat on earth are we to do?â cried Harris.\n\nThen George spoke up. He said Harris and I could get an hotel built for\nus, if we liked, and have some people made to put in. For his part, he\nwas going back to the Stag.\n\nThe greatest minds never","City, so\nhe explained. Harris, who is callous in his nature, and not prone to\npity, said:\n\nâAh! and now you are going to have a hard time on the river for a change;\nchange is good for everyone. Out you get!â\n\nHe could not in conscienceânot even Georgeâs conscienceâobject, though he\ndid suggest that, perhaps, it would be better for him to stop in the\nboat, and get tea ready, while Harris and I towed, because getting tea"],["one or two of them run down now and then, if I had\nmy way, just to teach them all a lesson.\n\nThe river becomes very lovely from a little above Reading. The railway\nrather spoils it near Tilehurst, but from Mapledurham up to Streatley it\nis glorious. A little above Mapledurham lock you pass Hardwick House,\nwhere Charles I. played bowls. The neighbourhood of Pangbourne, where\nthe quaint little Swan Inn stands, must be as familiar to the _habitues_\nof","a demoralising effect upon oneâs temper, and this it is, I\nsuppose, which causes even barge men to be sometimes rude to one another,\nand to use language which, no doubt, in their calmer moments they regret.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\n\nOxford.âMontmorencyâs idea of Heaven.âThe hired up-river boat, its\nbeauties and advantages.âThe âPride of the Thames.ââThe weather\nchanges","steadily up stream for the last hour and a half; âwhy, Jim Biffles\nand Jack and I, last season, pulled up from Marlow to Goring in one\nafternoonânever stopped once. Do you remember that, Jack?â\n\nJack, who has made himself a bed up in the prow of all the rugs and coats\nhe can collect, and who has been lying there asleep for the last two\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\nabout the matter, and also remem","by barges; and it also affords plenty of\nopportunity for acquiring the most prompt and graceful method of lying\ndown flat at the bottom of the boat so as to avoid being chucked out into\nthe river by passing tow-lines.\n\nBut it does not give you style. It was not till I came to the Thames\nthat I got style. My style of rowing is very much admired now. People\nsay it is so quaint.\n\nGeorge never went near the water until he was sixteen. Then he and eight\nother gentlemen of","just another five minutesâ nearly so much,\nlying wrapped up in a rug on the boards of a boat, with a Gladstone bag\nfor a pillow, as one does in a featherbed. We had finished breakfast,\nand were through Clifton Lock by half-past eight.\n\nFrom Clifton to Culham the river banks are flat, monotonous, and\nuninteresting, but, after you get through Culhalm Lockâthe coldest and\ndeepest lock on the riverâthe landscape improves.\n\nAt Ab","its\nbeauties and advantages.âThe âPride of the Thames.ââThe weather\nchanges.âThe river under different aspects.âNot a cheerful\nevening.âYearnings for the unattainable.âThe cheery chat goes\nround.âGeorge performs upon the banjo.âA mournful melody.âAnother wet\nday.âFlight.âA little supper and a toast.\n\n[Picture","through Culhalm Lockâthe coldest and\ndeepest lock on the riverâthe landscape improves.\n\nAt Abingdon, the river passes by the streets. Abingdon is a typical\ncountry town of the smaller orderâquiet, eminently respectable, clean,\nand desperately dull. It prides itself on being old, but whether it can\ncompare in this respect with Wallingford and Dorchester seems doubtful.\nA famous abbey stood here once, and within what is left of its sanctified\nwalls they brew bitter","of the river; but we found out after a\nwhile, and separated ourselves.\n\nHarris, however, said he had done enough for a bit, and proposed that I\nshould take a turn; so, as we were in, I got out and took the tow-line,\nand ran the boat on past Hampton Court. What a dear old wall that is\nthat runs along by the river there! I never pass it without feeling\nbetter for the sight of it. Such a mellow, bright, sweet old wall; what\na charming picture it would make, with the","from which go forth those demons of the\nriverâsteam-launches. The _London Journal_ duke always has his âlittle\nplaceâ at Maidenhead; and the heroine of the three-volume novel always\ndines there when she goes out on the spree with somebody elseâs husband.\n\n [Picture: River scene]\n\nWe went through Maidenhead quickly, and then eased up, and took leisurely\nthat grand reach beyond Boulterâs and Cookham locks","works show.\n\nShiplake is a pretty village, but it cannot be seen from the river, being\nupon the hill. Tennyson was married in Shiplake Church.\n\nThe river up to Sonning winds in and out through many islands, and is\nvery placid, hushed, and lonely. Few folk, except at twilight, a pair or\ntwo of rustic lovers, walk along its banks. âArry and Lord Fitznoodle\nhave been left behind at Henley, and dismal, dirty Reading is not","est stretch of all the\nriver, and lingeringly we slowly drew our little boat away from its deep\npeace.\n\nWe pulled up in the backwater, just below Cookham, and had tea; and, when\nwe were through the lock, it was evening. A stiffish breeze had sprung\nupâin our favour, for a wonder; for, as a rule on the river, the wind is\nalways dead against you whatever way you go. It is against you in the\nmorning, when you start for a dayâs trip, and you pull","ncy] The only one who was not struck with the\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\nMontmorency.\n\nâItâs all very well for you fellows,â he says; âyou like it, but _I_\ndonât. Thereâs nothing for me to do. Scenery is not in my line, and I\ndonât smoke. If I see a rat, you wonât stop; and","and we got into the boat and\nrowed away from the spot, and never paused till we reached Maidenhead.\n\nMaidenhead itself is too snobby to be pleasant. It is the haunt of the\nriver swell and his overdressed female companion. It is the town of\nshowy hotels, patronised chiefly by dudes and ballet girls. It is the\nwitchâs kitchen from which go forth those demons of the\nriverâsteam-launches. The _London Journal_ duke always has his â",".\n\nThere are also tombs of note in the church, and I was afraid I should\nnever get Harris past them; but he didnât seem to think of them, and we\nwent on. Above the bridge the river winds tremendously. This makes it\nlook picturesque; but it irritates you from a towing or sculling point of\nview, and causes argument between the man who is pulling and the man who\nis steering.\n\nYou pass Oatlands Park on the right bank here. It is a famous old place.\nHenry VIII"," In this way we made nine miles, and\npulled up for the night a little below Dayâs Lock.\n\nI cannot honestly say that we had a merry evening. The rain poured down\nwith quiet persistency. Everything in the boat was damp and clammy.\nSupper was not a success. Cold veal pie, when you donât feel hungry, is\napt to cloy. I felt I wanted whitebait and a cutlet; Harris babbled of\nsoles and white-sauce, and passed the remains of","a rather large place for a riverside town. As\nwith all riverside places, only the tiniest corner of it comes down to\nthe water, so that from the boat you might fancy it was a village of some\nhalf-dozen houses, all told. Windsor and Abingdon are the only towns\nbetween London and Oxford that you can really see anything of from the\nstream. All the others hide round corners, and merely peep at the river\ndown one street: my thanks to them for being so considerate, and leaving\nthe river-banks to woods and fields","peep at the river\ndown one street: my thanks to them for being so considerate, and leaving\nthe river-banks to woods and fields and water-works.\n\nEven Reading, though it does its best to spoil and sully and make hideous\nas much of the river as it can reach, is good-natured enough to keep its\nugly face a good deal out of sight.\n\nCæsar, of course, had a little place at Waltonâa camp, or an\nentrenchment, or something of that sort. C","River scene]\n\nAnd when they reached St. Albans, there would be that wretched couple,\nkissing under the Abbey walls. Then these folks would go and be pirates\nuntil the marriage was over.\n\nFrom Picnic Point to Old Windsor Lock is a delightful bit of the river.\nA shady road, dotted here and there with dainty little cottages, runs by\nthe bank up to the âBells of Ouseley,â a picturesque inn, as most\nup-river inns are, and a","full of life, and yet so\npeaceful, that, early in the day though it was, I felt myself being\ndreamily lulled off into a musing fit.\n\nI mused on Kingston, or âKyningestun,â as it was once called in the days\nwhen Saxon âkingesâ were crowned there. Great Cæsar crossed the river\nthere, and the Roman legions camped upon its sloping uplands. Cæsar,\nlike, in later years","up to Staines, and we\nhad taken the boat from there, and it seemed that we were dragging fifty\ntons after us, and were walking forty miles. It was half-past seven when\nwe were through, and we all got in, and sculled up close to the left\nbank, looking out for a spot to haul up in.\n\nWe had originally intended to go on to Magna Charta Island, a sweetly\npretty part of the river, where it winds through a soft, green valley,\nand to camp in one of the many picturesque inlets to"],["\nThen we had to find the rule and the string again, and a new hole was\nmade; and, about midnight, the picture would be upâvery crooked and\ninsecure, the wall for yards round looking as if it had been smoothed\ndown with a rake, and everybody dead beat and wretchedâexcept Uncle\nPodger.\n\nâThere you are,â he would say, stepping heavily off the chair on to the\ncharwomanâs corns, and surveying the mess he had made with evident pride.\nâ","other people.\n\nHe always reminds me of my poor Uncle Podger. You never saw such a\ncommotion up and down a house, in all your life, as when my Uncle Podger\nundertook to do a job. A picture would have come home from the\nframe-makerâs, and be standing in the dining-room, waiting to be put up;\nand Aunt Podger would ask what was to be done with it, and Uncle Podger\nwould say:\n\nâOh, you leave that to _me_. Donât","with it, and Uncle Podger\nwould say:\n\nâOh, you leave that to _me_. Donât you, any of you, worry yourselves\nabout that. _Iâll_ do all that.â\n\nAnd then he would take off his coat, and begin. He would send the girl\nout for sixpenâorth of nails, and then one of the boys after her to tell\nher what size to get; and, from that, he would gradually work down, and\nstart the whole house.\n","first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery catalogue,\nGeorge, and somebody give me a bit of pencil, and then Iâll make out a\nlist.â\n\nThatâs Harris all overâso ready to take the burden of everything himself,\nand put it on the backs of other people.\n\nHe always reminds me of my poor Uncle Podger. You never saw such a\ncommotion up and down a house, in","Maria would mildly observe that, next time Uncle Podger was going to\nhammer a nail into the wall, she hoped heâd let her know in time, so that\nshe could make arrangements to go and spend a week with her mother while\nit was being done.\n\nâOh! you women, you make such a fuss over everything,â Uncle Podger would\nreply, picking himself up. âWhy, I _like_ doing a little job of this\nsort.â\n\n [Picture: Uncle Podger admiring","time, and at the critical moment, when\nthe old fool was leaning over the chair at an angle of forty-five, and\ntrying to reach a point three inches beyond what was possible for him to\nreach, the string would slip, and down he would slide on to the piano, a\nreally fine musical effect being produced by the suddenness with which\nhis head and body struck all the notes at the same time.\n\nAnd Aunt Maria would say that she would not allow the children to stand\nround and hear such language.\n\nAt last, Uncle Podger would get the spot fixed again,","say that she would not allow the children to stand\nround and hear such language.\n\nAt last, Uncle Podger would get the spot fixed again, and put the point\nof the nail on it with his left hand, and take the hammer in his right\nhand. And, with the first blow, he would smash his thumb, and drop the\nhammer, with a yell, on somebodyâs toes.\n\nAunt Maria would mildly observe that, next time Uncle Podger was going to\nhammer a nail into the wall, she hoped heâd let","thirty-one\nand three-eighths inches from the corner, and would try to do it in his\nhead, and go mad.\n\nAnd we would all try to do it in our heads, and all arrive at different\nresults, and sneer at one another. And in the general row, the original\nnumber would be forgotten, and Uncle Podger would have to measure it\nagain.\n\nHe would use a bit of string this time, and at the critical moment, when\nthe old fool was leaning over the chair at an angle of forty-five, and\ntrying to reach","Why, I _like_ doing a little job of this\nsort.â\n\n [Picture: Uncle Podger admiring his work]\n\nAnd then he would have another try, and, at the second blow, the nail\nwould go clean through the plaster, and half the hammer after it, and\nUncle Podger be precipitated against the wall with force nearly\nsufficient to flatten his nose.\n\nThen we had to find the rule and the string again, and a new hole was\nmade; and, about midnight, the picture would be upâ","\nWe had been sitting huddled up in our rugs while George had been telling\nme this true story, and on his finishing it I set to work to wake up\nHarris with a scull. The third prod did it: and he turned over on the\nother side, and said he would be down in a minute, and that he would have\nhis lace-up boots. We soon let him know where he was, however, by the\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\nbeen sleeping the sleep of","âs foot, if\nhe had to move about at all within ten yards of where George was sitting,\nsuggesting that George never ought to come into an ordinary sized boat\nwith feet that length, and advising him to hang them over the side, as he\nwould have done before supper, now said: âOh, Iâm so sorry, old chap; I\nhope I havenât hurt you.â\n\n[Picture: Smoking pipes] And George said: âNot at all;â","a pleasure. Sure you donât want anything,\nnow?â\n\nMONTMORENCY (_still backing_): âNot at all, thanksânot at allâvery kind\nof you. Good morning.â\n\nTHE CAT: âGood-morning.â\n\nThen the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\nan unimportant position in the","long day.\n\nThe order of the procession was as follows:â\n\n Montmorency, carrying a stick.\n Two disreputable-looking curs, friends of Montmorencyâs.\n George, carrying coats and rugs, and smoking a short pipe.\n Harris, trying to walk with easy grace,\n while carrying a bulged-out Gladstone bag in one hand\n and a bottle of lime-juice in the other.\n Greengrocerâs boy and bakerâ","42âs a-moving.â\n\nThe grocerâs boy came across, and took up a position on the other side of\nthe step. Then the young gentleman from the boot-shop stopped, and\njoined Biggsâs boy; while the empty-can superintendent from âThe Blue\nPostsâ took up an independent position on the curb.\n\nâThey ainât a-going to starve, are they?â said the gentleman from the\nboot-",",â I replied, getting roused; âI do not want to see\ntombsânot your tombs. Why should I? We have graves of our own, our\nfamily has. Why my uncle Podger has a tomb in Kensal Green Cemetery,\nthat is the pride of all that country-side; and my grandfatherâs vault at\nBow is capable of accommodating eight visitors, while my great-aunt Susan\nhas a brick grave in Finchley Churchyard, with a headstone with a\ncoff","â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\n\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\nput it straight.\n\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\nHarr","â he exclaimed, indignantly.\n\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\n\nâStand still, canât you!â roared George, flying after him.\n\nAnd they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.\n\nMontmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorencyâs ambition in life, is\nto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he\nparticularly is not wanted","the other crawling in from the opposite side of the compass, and\nlying with his feet on the pillow.\n\nThere was silence for a moment, and then Georgeâs father said:\n\nâJoe!â\n\nâWhatâs the matter, Tom?â replied Joeâs voice from the other end of the\nbed.\n\nâWhy, thereâs a man in my bed,â said Georgeâs father; âhereâs his feet on\n","you so much,â murmured George, looking about him. âWhereâwhere do\nyou keep it?â\n\nâItâs always in the same place my boy,â was the stolid reply: âjust\nbehind you.â\n\nâI donât see it,â said George, turning round.\n\nâWhy, bless us, whereâs your eyes?â was the manâs comment, as he twisted\n","shouted in his ear,\nand he awoke.\n\nâWasermarrer?â he observed, sitting up.\n\nâGet up, you fat-headed chunk!â roared Harris. âItâs quarter to ten.â\n\nâWhat!â he shrieked, jumping out of bed into the bath; âWho the thunder\nput this thing here?â\n\nWe told him he must have been a fool not to see the bath.\n\nWe finished"],["\nThen we had to find the rule and the string again, and a new hole was\nmade; and, about midnight, the picture would be upâvery crooked and\ninsecure, the wall for yards round looking as if it had been smoothed\ndown with a rake, and everybody dead beat and wretchedâexcept Uncle\nPodger.\n\nâThere you are,â he would say, stepping heavily off the chair on to the\ncharwomanâs corns, and surveying the mess he had made with evident pride.\nâ","Why, I _like_ doing a little job of this\nsort.â\n\n [Picture: Uncle Podger admiring his work]\n\nAnd then he would have another try, and, at the second blow, the nail\nwould go clean through the plaster, and half the hammer after it, and\nUncle Podger be precipitated against the wall with force nearly\nsufficient to flatten his nose.\n\nThen we had to find the rule and the string again, and a new hole was\nmade; and, about midnight, the picture would be upâ","time, and at the critical moment, when\nthe old fool was leaning over the chair at an angle of forty-five, and\ntrying to reach a point three inches beyond what was possible for him to\nreach, the string would slip, and down he would slide on to the piano, a\nreally fine musical effect being produced by the suddenness with which\nhis head and body struck all the notes at the same time.\n\nAnd Aunt Maria would say that she would not allow the children to stand\nround and hear such language.\n\nAt last, Uncle Podger would get the spot fixed again,","other people.\n\nHe always reminds me of my poor Uncle Podger. You never saw such a\ncommotion up and down a house, in all your life, as when my Uncle Podger\nundertook to do a job. A picture would have come home from the\nframe-makerâs, and be standing in the dining-room, waiting to be put up;\nand Aunt Podger would ask what was to be done with it, and Uncle Podger\nwould say:\n\nâOh, you leave that to _me_. Donât","with it, and Uncle Podger\nwould say:\n\nâOh, you leave that to _me_. Donât you, any of you, worry yourselves\nabout that. _Iâll_ do all that.â\n\nAnd then he would take off his coat, and begin. He would send the girl\nout for sixpenâorth of nails, and then one of the boys after her to tell\nher what size to get; and, from that, he would gradually work down, and\nstart the whole house.\n","Maria would mildly observe that, next time Uncle Podger was going to\nhammer a nail into the wall, she hoped heâd let her know in time, so that\nshe could make arrangements to go and spend a week with her mother while\nit was being done.\n\nâOh! you women, you make such a fuss over everything,â Uncle Podger would\nreply, picking himself up. âWhy, I _like_ doing a little job of this\nsort.â\n\n [Picture: Uncle Podger admiring","the chair, and the\ncandle had been brought, he would have another go, the whole family,\nincluding the girl and the charwoman, standing round in a semi-circle,\nready to help. Two people would have to hold the chair, and a third\nwould help him up on it, and hold him there, and a fourth would hand him\na nail, and a fifth would pass him up the hammer, and he would take hold\nof the nail, and drop it.\n\nâThere!â he would say, in an injured tone, â","say that she would not allow the children to stand\nround and hear such language.\n\nAt last, Uncle Podger would get the spot fixed again, and put the point\nof the nail on it with his left hand, and take the hammer in his right\nhand. And, with the first blow, he would smash his thumb, and drop the\nhammer, with a yell, on somebodyâs toes.\n\nAunt Maria would mildly observe that, next time Uncle Podger was going to\nhammer a nail into the wall, she hoped heâd let","thirty-one\nand three-eighths inches from the corner, and would try to do it in his\nhead, and go mad.\n\nAnd we would all try to do it in our heads, and all arrive at different\nresults, and sneer at one another. And in the general row, the original\nnumber would be forgotten, and Uncle Podger would have to measure it\nagain.\n\nHe would use a bit of string this time, and at the critical moment, when\nthe old fool was leaning over the chair at an angle of forty-five, and\ntrying to reach","m., and\nthen there remained the hampers to do. Harris said that we should be\nwanting to start in less than twelve hoursâ time, and thought that he and\nGeorge had better do the rest; and I agreed and sat down, and they had a\ngo.\n\nThey began in a light-hearted spirit, evidently intending to show me how\nto do it. I made no comment; I only waited. When George is hanged,\nHarris will be the worst packer in this world; and I looked at the piles\n","for a bit of picture-cord; and\nTom!âwhereâs Tom?âTom, you come here; I shall want you to hand me up the\npicture.â\n\nAnd then he would lift up the picture, and drop it, and it would come out\nof the frame, and he would try to save the glass, and cut himself; and\nthen he would spring round the room, looking for his handkerchief. He\ncould not find his handkerchief, because it was in the pocket of the coat\nhe had taken off","first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery catalogue,\nGeorge, and somebody give me a bit of pencil, and then Iâll make out a\nlist.â\n\nThatâs Harris all overâso ready to take the burden of everything himself,\nand put it on the backs of other people.\n\nHe always reminds me of my poor Uncle Podger. You never saw such a\ncommotion up and down a house, in","\nsome mysterious process or other he succeeded, after ten minutes of\nsuperhuman effort, in getting himself completely rolled up in it. He was\nso firmly wrapped round and tucked in and folded over, that he could not\nget out. He, of course, made frantic struggles for freedomâthe\nbirthright of every Englishman,âand, in doing so (I learned this\nafterwards), knocked over George; and then George, swearing at Harris,\nbegan to struggle too, and got _himself_ entangled and rolled up.\n\n[P","up the river thinks a thing, he says it.\n\nâWhat have you been trying to do with it, make a fishing-net of it?\nYouâve made a nice mess you have; why couldnât you wind it up properly,\nyou silly dummy?â he grunts from time to time as he struggles wildly with\nit, and lays it out flat on the tow-path, and runs round and round it,\ntrying to find the end.\n\nOn the other hand, the man who wound it up thinks the whole cause of","of\nthe mark he had made on the wall, where the nail was to go in, and each\nof us had to get up on the chair, beside him, and see if we could find\nit; and we would each discover it in a different place, and he would call\nus all fools, one after another, and tell us to get down. And he would\ntake the rule, and re-measure, and find that he wanted half thirty-one\nand three-eighths inches from the corner, and would try to do it in his\nhead, and go mad.\n\n"," I had looped it\nround slowly and cautiously, and tied it up in the middle, and folded it\nin two, and laid it down gently at the bottom of the boat. Harris had\nlifted it up scientifically, and had put it into Georgeâs hand. George\nhad taken it firmly, and held it away from him, and had begun to unravel\nit as if he were taking the swaddling clothes off a new-born infant; and,\nbefore he had unwound a dozen yards, the thing was more like a badly-made\ndoor","\nstop where they were, and he would come to them. They huddled together,\nand waited; and he climbed down, and came in.\n\nHe was a young keeper, as luck would have it, and new to the business;\nand when he got in, he couldnât find them, and he wandered about, trying\nto get to them, and then _he_ got lost. They caught sight of him, every\nnow and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see\nthem, and rush to get to them","to the bank\nand shook it. There was no tin-opener to be found.\n\nThen Harris tried to open the tin with a pocket-knife, and broke the\nknife and cut himself badly; and George tried a pair of scissors, and the\nscissors flew up, and nearly put his eye out. While they were dressing\ntheir wounds, I tried to make a hole in the thing with the spiky end of\nthe hitcher, and the hitcher slipped and jerked me out between the boat\nand the bank into two feet of mud","\ndelicate parts of the body; and, while we were wrestling with one side of\nthe hoop, and endeavouring to persuade it to do its duty, the other side\nwould come behind us in a cowardly manner, and hit us over the head.\n\nWe got them fixed at last, and then all that was to be done was to\narrange the covering over them. George unrolled it, and fastened one end\nover the nose of the boat. Harris stood in the middle to take it from\nGeorge and roll it on to me, and","The nail would be found at last, but by that time he would have lost the\nhammer.\n\nâWhereâs the hammer? What did I do with the hammer? Great heavens!\nSeven of you, gaping round there, and you donât know what I did with the\nhammer!â\n\nWe would find the hammer for him, and then he would have lost sight of\nthe mark he had made on the wall, where the nail was to go in, and each\nof us had to get up on the chair,"],["ât had any dinner). It seems to suit everybody, however, which is\ngreatly to its credit.\n\nIt suited me to a âTâ too, and Harris and I both said it was a good idea\nof Georgeâs; and we said it in a tone that seemed to somehow imply that\nwe were surprised that George should have come out so sensible.\n\n[Picture: Montmorency] The only one who was not struck with the\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did","a pleasure. Sure you donât want anything,\nnow?â\n\nMONTMORENCY (_still backing_): âNot at all, thanksânot at allâvery kind\nof you. Good morning.â\n\nTHE CAT: âGood-morning.â\n\nThen the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\nan unimportant position in the","\n\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy; and if a trifle low, so\nmuch the jollier. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was\nan angel sent upon the earth, for some reason withheld from mankind, in\nthe shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-","cy, who had evinced great\ninterest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and\nthoughtful air, reappearing, a few minutes afterwards, with a dead\nwater-rat in his mouth, which he evidently wished to present as his\ncontribution to the dinner; whether in a sarcastic spirit, or with a\ngenuine desire to assist, I cannot say.\n\nWe had a discussion as to whether the rat should go in or not. Harris\nsaid that he thought it would be all right, mixed up with the other\nthings","â he exclaimed, indignantly.\n\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\n\nâStand still, canât you!â roared George, flying after him.\n\nAnd they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.\n\nMontmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorencyâs ambition in life, is\nto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he\nparticularly is not wanted",". At the first sound the\nkettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threatening\nattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and it\nup and spit at him.\n\n[Picture: Montmorency and the kettle] âAh! would ye!â growled\nMontmorency, showing his teeth; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty","venture his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\nshillings by backing him to kill rats against time, then I began to think\nthat maybe theyâd let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.\n\nTo hang about a stable, and collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs\nto be found in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâ","mon, and he emptied that into the pot.\n\nHe said that was the advantage of Irish stew: you got rid of such a lot\nof things. I fished out a couple of eggs that had got cracked, and put\nthose in. George said they would thicken the gravy.\n\nI forget the other ingredients, but I know nothing was wasted; and I\nremember that, towards the end, Montmorency, who had evinced great\ninterest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and\nthoughtful air, reappearing","; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye.\nCome on!â\n\nAnd he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout.\n\nThen, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp, and\nMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\nthen to","as for the gravy, it was a poemâa\nlittle too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious.\n\nWe finished up with tea and cherry tart. Montmorency had a fight with\nthe kettle during tea-time, and came off a poor second.\n\nThroughout the trip, he had manifested great curiosity concerning the\nkettle. He would sit and watch it, as it boiled, with a puzzled\nexpression, and would try and rouse it every now and then by growling at\nit","in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâs idea of âlife;â and so,\nas I before observed, he gave to the suggestion of inns, and pubs., and\nhotels his most emphatic approbation.\n\nHaving thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all\nfour of us, the only thing left to discuss was what we should take with\nus; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said heâ","the clank of cutlery and crockery, and the\nsteady grinding of four sets of molars. At the end of five-and-thirty\nminutes, Harris said, âAh!â and took his left leg out from under him and\nput his right one there instead.\n\nFive minutes afterwards, George said, âAh!â too, and threw his plate out\non the bank; and, three minutes later than that, Montmorency gave the\nfirst sign of contentment he had exhibited since we had started,","morency, fitting what\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\nan unimportant position in the rear.\n\nTo this day, if you say the word âCats!â to Montmorency, he will visibly\nshrink and look up piteously at you, as if to say:\n\nâPlease donât.â\n\nWe did our marketing after breakfast, and revictualled the boat for three\ndays. George said we ought to take vegetablesâ","a sort of\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-do-something-to-\nmake-it-better-and-nobler expression about Montmorency that has been\nknown to bring the tears into the eyes of pious old ladies and gentlemen.\n\nWhen first he came to live at my expense, I never thought I should be\nable to get him to stop long. I used to sit down and look at him, as he\nsat on the rug and looked up at me,","âthe sort of cry\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\nafter his prey.\n\nHis victim was a large black Tom. I never saw a larger cat, nor a more\ndisreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears,\nand a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long,\nsinewy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\n\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of","you are all three speechless, owing to having caught\nsevere colds in the night; you also feel very quarrelsome, and you swear\nat each other in hoarse whispers during the whole of breakfast time.\n\nWe therefore decided that we would sleep out on fine nights; and hotel\nit, and inn it, and pub. it, like respectable folks, when it was wet, or\nwhen we felt inclined for a change.\n\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy;","wy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\n\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of twenty miles an hour;\nbut the cat did not hurry upâdid not seem to have grasped the idea that\nits life was in danger. It trotted quietly on until its would-be\nassassin was within a yard of it, and then it turned round and sat down\nin the middle of the road, and looked at Montmorency with a gentle,\ninquiring expression, that said:\n\nâ",", coming back, Montmorency made an awful ass\nof himself. The only subject on which Montmorency and I have any serious\ndifference of opinion is cats. I like cats; Montmorency does not.\n\n[Picture: Cat] When I meet a cat, I say, âPoor Pussy!â and stop down and\ntickle the side of its head; and the cat sticks up its tail in a rigid,\ncast-iron manner, arches its back, and wipes its nose up against my\ntrousers; and","brought us up to Marlow.\n\nAnd at Marlow we left the boat by the bridge, and went and put up for the\nnight at the âCrown.â\n\n [Picture: The boat]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\n\nMarlow.âBisham Abbey.âThe Medmenham Monks.âMontmorency thinks he will\nmurder an old Tom cat.âBut eventually decides that he will let it\nlive.âShameful conduct of","long day.\n\nThe order of the procession was as follows:â\n\n Montmorency, carrying a stick.\n Two disreputable-looking curs, friends of Montmorencyâs.\n George, carrying coats and rugs, and smoking a short pipe.\n Harris, trying to walk with easy grace,\n while carrying a bulged-out Gladstone bag in one hand\n and a bottle of lime-juice in the other.\n Greengrocerâs boy and bakerâ"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"is not in my line, and I\\ndonât smoke. If I see a rat, you wonât stop; and if I go to sleep, you\\nget fooling about with the boat, and slop me overboard. If you ask me, I\\ncall the whole thing bally foolishness.â\\n\\nWe were three to one, however, and the motion was carried.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER II.\\n\\n\\nPlans discussed.âPleasures of âcamping-out,â on fine nights\",\n \"â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\\n\\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\\nput it straight.\\n\\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\\nHarr\",\n \"the bank, and one and a half moments\\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\\namong boat-hooks and sails and carpet-bags and bottles. The last man\\nwent on twenty yards further, and then got out on his head.\\n\\nThis seemed to sort of lighten the boat, and it went on much easier, the\\nsmall boy shouting at the top of his voice, and urging his steed into a\\ngallop. The fellows sat up and stared at one another. It was some\\nseconds before\",\n \"the last two\\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\\nabout the matter, and also remembers that there was an unusually strong\\nstream against them all the wayâlikewise a stiff wind.\\n\\nâAbout thirty-four miles, I suppose, it must have been,â adds the first\\nspeaker, reaching down another cushion to put under his head.\\n\\nâNoâno; donât exaggerate, Tom,â murmurs Jack, reprovingly\",\n \"CHAPTER II.\\n\\n\\nPlans discussed.âPleasures of âcamping-out,â on fine nights.âDitto, wet\\nnights.âCompromise decided on.âMontmorency, first impressions of.âFears\\nlest he is too good for this world, fears subsequently dismissed as\\ngroundless.âMeeting adjourns.\\n\\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\\n\\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\\n\",\n \"Harrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\\nfamily-man puts up a picture.âGeorge makes a sensible, remark.âDelights\\nof early morning bathing.âProvisions for getting upset.\\n\\nSo, on the following evening, we again assembled, to discuss and arrange\\nour plans. Harris said:\\n\\nâNow, the first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery\",\n \"upon\\nhimself. I said:\\n\\nâNo; _you_ get the paper, and the pencil, and the catalogue, and George\\nwrite down, and Iâll do the work.â\\n\\nThe first list we made out had to be discarded. It was clear that the\\nupper reaches of the Thames would not allow of the navigation of a boat\\nsufficiently large to take the things we had set down as indispensable;\\nso we tore the list up, and looked at one another!\\n\\nGeorge said:\",\n \"1} to follow,â I added, half\\nunconsciously.\\n\\nâYes itâs almost a pity weâve made up our minds to stick to this boat,â\\nanswered Harris; and then there was silence for a while.\\n\\nâIf we _hadnât_ made up our minds to contract our certain deaths in this\\nbally old coffin,â observed George, casting a glance of intense\\nmalevolence over the boat, âit might be worth while to mention that\\n\",\n \"ful appearance.\\n\\nâI should like to see him pull the wrong line,â murmured George, as they\\npassed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed\\nup the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen\\nsheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars immediately left the boat on\\nthe larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments\\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\\namong boat\",\n \"ed and discontented.\\n\\nHarris let the sail down, and then we saw what had happened. We had\\nknocked those three old gentlemen off their chairs into a general heap at\\nthe bottom of the boat, and they were now slowly and painfully sorting\\nthemselves out from each other, and picking fish off themselves; and as\\nthey worked, they cursed usânot with a common cursory curse, but with\\nlong, carefully-thought-out, comprehensive curses, that embraced the\\nwhole of our career, and went away\",\n \"t get anywhere else. Whatever way they\\nturned brought them back to the middle. It became so regular at length,\\nthat some of the people stopped there, and waited for the others to take\\na walk round, and come back to them. Harris drew out his map again,\\nafter a while, but the sight of it only infuriated the mob, and they told\\nhim to go and curl his hair with it. Harris said that he couldnât help\\nfeeling that, to a certain extent, he had become unpopular.\\n\\nThey all got crazy at\",\n \"liked, and have some people made to put in. For his part, he\\nwas going back to the Stag.\\n\\nThe greatest minds never realise their ideals in any matter; and Harris\\nand I sighed over the hollowness of all earthly desires, and followed\\nGeorge.\\n\\nWe took our traps into the Stag, and laid them down in the hall.\\n\\nThe landlord came up and said:\\n\\nâGood evening, gentlemen.â\\n\\nâOh, good evening,â said George; âwe\",\n \"\\nâThey ainât a-going to cross the Atlantic,â struck in Biggsâs boy;\\nâtheyâre a-going to find Stanley.â\\n\\nBy this time, quite a small crowd had collected, and people were asking\\neach other what was the matter. One party (the young and giddy portion\\nof the crowd) held that it was a wedding, and pointed out Harris as the\\nbridegroom; while the elder and more thoughtful among the populace\\ninclined to the idea that\",\n \"was, in fact, _the_ boat,\\nthe âdouble sculling skiffâ selected to take us on our trip down the\\nriver.\\n\\nWe grumbled a good deal. We thought he might, at least, have had it\\nwhitewashed or tarredâhad _something_ done to it to distinguish it from a\\nbit of a wreck; but he could not see any fault in it.\\n\\nHe even seemed offended at our remarks. He said he had picked us out the\\nbest boat in all his stock, and he thought we might\",\n \"ering about the boat with\\nthe lantern, looking for his clothes. He seemed to be worrying about his\\nclothes all night.\\n\\nTwice he routed up George and myself to see if we were lying on his\\ntrousers. George got quite wild the second time.\\n\\nâWhat the thunder do you want your trousers for, in the middle of the\\nnight?â he asked indignantly. âWhy donât you lie down, and go to sleep?â\\n\\nI found him in trouble, the next\",\n \"\\n\\nWe did our marketing after breakfast, and revictualled the boat for three\\ndays. George said we ought to take vegetablesâthat it was unhealthy not\\nto eat vegetables. He said they were easy enough to cook, and that he\\nwould see to that; so we got ten pounds of potatoes, a bushel of peas,\\nand a few cabbages. We got a beefsteak pie, a couple of gooseberry\\ntarts, and a leg of mutton from the hotel; and fruit, and cakes, and\\nbread and butter\",\n \"balancing myself. You stand in the centre of the deck,\\nand, as the ship heaves and pitches, you move your body about, so as to\\nkeep it always straight. When the front of the ship rises, you lean\\nforward, till the deck almost touches your nose; and when its back end\\ngets up, you lean backwards. This is all very well for an hour or two;\\nbut you canât balance yourself for a week.\\n\\nGeorge said:\\n\\nâLetâs go up the river.â\\n\",\n \"your pardon, really. I quite forgot.\\n\\nWell, we left the list to George, and he began it.\\n\\n[Picture: Tent] âWe wonât take a tent,â suggested George; âwe will have a\\nboat with a cover. It is ever so much simpler, and more comfortable.â\\n\\nIt seemed a good thought, and we adopted it. I do not know whether you\\nhave ever seen the thing I mean. You fix iron hoops up over the boat,\\nand stretch a huge\",\n \"in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâs idea of âlife;â and so,\\nas I before observed, he gave to the suggestion of inns, and pubs., and\\nhotels his most emphatic approbation.\\n\\nHaving thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all\\nfour of us, the only thing left to discuss was what we should take with\\nus; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said heâ\",\n \"five a.m., when we all got up and had breakfast.\\n\\nThe second day was exactly like the first. The rain continued to pour\\ndown, and we sat, wrapped up in our mackintoshes, underneath the canvas,\\nand drifted slowly down.\\n\\nOne of usâI forget which one now, but I rather think it was myselfâmade a\\nfew feeble attempts during the course of the morning to work up the old\\ngipsy foolishness about being children of Nature and enjoying the wet;\\nbut it did not go down well at all\"\n ],\n [\n \"soaked wayfarers hurried\\npast, crouching beneath their dripping umbrellas, the women holding up\\ntheir skirts.\\n\\nâWell,â said Harris, reaching his hand out for his glass, âwe have had a\\npleasant trip, and my hearty thanks for it to old Father Thamesâbut I\\nthink we did well to chuck it when we did. Hereâs to Three Men well out\\nof a Boat!â\\n\\nAnd Montmorency, standing on his hind legs,\",\n \"the bank, and one and a half moments\\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\\namong boat-hooks and sails and carpet-bags and bottles. The last man\\nwent on twenty yards further, and then got out on his head.\\n\\nThis seemed to sort of lighten the boat, and it went on much easier, the\\nsmall boy shouting at the top of his voice, and urging his steed into a\\ngallop. The fellows sat up and stared at one another. It was some\\nseconds before\",\n \" And when we had done that George wanted\\nthe shaving tackle. We told him that he would have to go without shaving\\nthat morning, as we werenât going to unpack that bag again for him, nor\\nfor anyone like him.\\n\\nHe said:\\n\\nâDonât be absurd. How can I go into the City like this?â\\n\\nIt was certainly rather rough on the City, but what cared we for human\\nsuffering? As Harris said, in his common, vulgar way, the City would\\nhave\",\n \"the last two\\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\\nabout the matter, and also remembers that there was an unusually strong\\nstream against them all the wayâlikewise a stiff wind.\\n\\nâAbout thirty-four miles, I suppose, it must have been,â adds the first\\nspeaker, reaching down another cushion to put under his head.\\n\\nâNoâno; donât exaggerate, Tom,â murmurs Jack, reprovingly\",\n \"an hour of deep enchantment, of ecstatic\\nhope and longing. The little sail stood out against the purple sky, the\\ngloaming lay around us, wrapping the world in rainbow shadows; and,\\nbehind us, crept the night.\\n\\nWe seemed like knights of some old legend, sailing across some mystic\\nlake into the unknown realm of twilight, unto the great land of the\\nsunset.\\n\\nWe did not go into the realm of twilight; we went slap into that punt,\\nwhere those three old men\",\n \"\\nstop where they were, and he would come to them. They huddled together,\\nand waited; and he climbed down, and came in.\\n\\nHe was a young keeper, as luck would have it, and new to the business;\\nand when he got in, he couldnât find them, and he wandered about, trying\\nto get to them, and then _he_ got lost. They caught sight of him, every\\nnow and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see\\nthem, and rush to get to them\",\n \"ful appearance.\\n\\nâI should like to see him pull the wrong line,â murmured George, as they\\npassed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed\\nup the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen\\nsheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars immediately left the boat on\\nthe larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments\\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\\namong boat\",\n \"per and the bags, and the\\ncoats and rugs, and parcels, and ran. The distance seemed more like a\\nmile than half a mile, but we reached the place at last, and rushed,\\npanting, into the bar.\\n\\nThe people at the beershop were rude. They merely laughed at us. There\\nwere only three beds in the whole house, and they had seven single\\ngentlemen and two married couples sleeping there already. A kind-hearted\\nbargeman, however, who happened to be in the tap-room, thought we\",\n \"City, so\\nhe explained. Harris, who is callous in his nature, and not prone to\\npity, said:\\n\\nâAh! and now you are going to have a hard time on the river for a change;\\nchange is good for everyone. Out you get!â\\n\\nHe could not in conscienceânot even Georgeâs conscienceâobject, though he\\ndid suggest that, perhaps, it would be better for him to stop in the\\nboat, and get tea ready, while Harris and I towed, because getting tea\",\n \"âGood evening, gentlemen.â\\n\\nâOh, good evening,â said George; âwe want three beds, please.â\\n\\nâVery sorry, sir,â said the landlord; âbut Iâm afraid we canât manage\\nit.â\\n\\nâOh, well, never mind,â said George, âtwo will do. Two of us can sleep\\nin one bed, canât we?â\",\n \"it had\\nfinished.\\n\\nâWell, and how many did you want it to go?â replied the constable.\\n\\nâWhy, nine,â said George, showing his watch.\\n\\nâDo you know where you live?â said the guardian of public order,\\nseverely.\\n\\nGeorge thought, and gave the address.\\n\\nâOh! thatâs where it is, is it?â replied the man; âwell, you take my\\nadvice and go there\",\n \"and begin again. For the beginning again part\\nof it there was not much enthusiasm; but with regard to the advisability\\nof going back to the entrance there was complete unanimity, and so they\\nturned, and trailed after Harris again, in the opposite direction. About\\nten minutes more passed, and then they found themselves in the centre.\\n\\nHarris thought at first of pretending that that was what he had been\\naiming at; but the crowd looked dangerous, and he decided to treat it as\\nan accident.\\n\\nAnyhow, they had got something to start from\",\n \"\\nI was steering.\\n\\nAs we drew nearer, we could see that the three men fishing seemed old and\\nsolemn-looking men. They sat on three chairs in the punt, and watched\\nintently their lines. And the red sunset threw a mystic light upon the\\nwaters, and tinged with fire the towering woods, and made a golden glory\\nof the piled-up clouds. It was an hour of deep enchantment, of ecstatic\\nhope and longing. The little sail stood out against the purple sky, the\\ng\",\n \"\\ngrieved to hear men their age give way to temper so.\\n\\nBut it did not do any good.\\n\\nGeorge said he would steer, after that. He said a mind like mine ought\\nnot to be expected to give itself away in steering boatsâbetter let a\\nmere commonplace human being see after that boat, before we jolly well\\nall got drowned; and he took the lines, and brought us up to Marlow.\\n\\nAnd at Marlow we left the boat by the bridge, and went and put up for the\\nnight at the\",\n \"and each one seemed to see his\\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\\nsilence, we dragged out and overhauled the Gladstone. We looked up the\\nriver and down the river; not a soul was in sight!\\n\\nTwenty minutes later, three figures, followed by a shamed-looking dog,\\nmight have been seen creeping stealthily from the boat-house at the\\nâSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\\nnor gaudy costume:\\n\\nBlack leather shoes,\",\n \"him up and put him outside at two),\\nwould meet us there.\\n\\nShould we âcamp outâ or sleep at inns?\\n\\nGeorge and I were for camping out. We said it would be so wild and free,\\nso patriarchal like.\\n\\nSlowly the golden memory of the dead sun fades from the hearts of the\\ncold, sad clouds. Silent, like sorrowing children, the birds have ceased\\ntheir song, and only the moorhenâs plaintive cry and the harsh cro\",\n \"about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâs friends,\\nwho had evidently sworn never to forsake him, we drove away amidst the\\ncheers of the crowd, Biggsâs boy shying a carrot after us for luck.\\n\\nWe got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started\\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\\ntrain is going to start from, or where\",\n \"towards us, laughing and talking together in deep\\nguttural bass, a half-a-score of stalwart halbert-menâBaronsâ men,\\ntheseâand halt at a hundred yards or so above us, on the other bank, and\\nlean upon their arms, and wait.\\n\\nAnd so, from hour to hour, march up along the road ever fresh groups and\\nbands of armed men, their casques and breastplates flashing back the long\\nlow lines of morning sunlight, until, as far as eye can reach, the way\\nse\",\n \"liked, and have some people made to put in. For his part, he\\nwas going back to the Stag.\\n\\nThe greatest minds never realise their ideals in any matter; and Harris\\nand I sighed over the hollowness of all earthly desires, and followed\\nGeorge.\\n\\nWe took our traps into the Stag, and laid them down in the hall.\\n\\nThe landlord came up and said:\\n\\nâGood evening, gentlemen.â\\n\\nâOh, good evening,â said George; âwe\",\n \"s go in there! Letâs go on a bit further, and see if\\nthere isnât one with honeysuckle over it.â\\n\\nSo we went on till we came to another hotel. That was a very nice hotel,\\ntoo, and it had honey-suckle on it, round at the side; but Harris did not\\nlike the look of a man who was leaning against the front door. He said\\nhe didnât look a nice man at all, and he wore ugly boots: so we went on\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \", when he has succeeded in\\naccomplishing this, his conceit becomes quite unbearable.\\n\\nHe came and sat down on things, just when they were wanted to be packed;\\nand he laboured under the fixed belief that, whenever Harris or George\\nreached out their hand for anything, it was his cold, damp nose that they\\nwanted. He put his leg into the jam, and he worried the teaspoons, and\\nhe pretended that the lemons were rats, and got into the hamper and\\nkilled three of them before Harris could land him with the\",\n \"venture his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\\nshillings by backing him to kill rats against time, then I began to think\\nthat maybe theyâd let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.\\n\\nTo hang about a stable, and collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs\\nto be found in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâ\",\n \"\\nhad dragged him, growling and kicking, by the scruff of his neck, out of\\na hundred and fourteen street fights; and had had a dead cat brought\\nround for my inspection by an irate female, who called me a murderer; and\\nhad been summoned by the man next door but one for having a ferocious dog\\nat large, that had kept him pinned up in his own tool-shed, afraid to\\nventure his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\",\n \"ades of that\\nlobby.\\n\\nThe result of his first experiment seemed highly satisfactory to him, and\\nhe determined to go on and make things lively all round. He sprang over\\nthe poodle and vigorously attacked a collie, and the collie woke up, and\\nimmediately commenced a fierce and noisy contest with the poodle. Then\\nFoxey came back to his own place, and caught the bull-dog by the ear, and\\ntried to throw him away; and the bull-dog, a curiously impartial animal,\\n\",\n \"; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye.\\nCome on!â\\n\\nAnd he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout.\\n\\nThen, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp, and\\nMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\\nthen to\",\n \"\\n\\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy; and if a trifle low, so\\nmuch the jollier. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was\\nan angel sent upon the earth, for some reason withheld from mankind, in\\nthe shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of\\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-\",\n \"the middle; a\\nbull-dog, a few Lowther Arcade sort of animals, about the size of rats,\\nand a couple of Yorkshire tykes.\\n\\nThere they sat, patient, good, and thoughtful. A solemn peacefulness\\nseemed to reign in that lobby. An air of calmness and resignationâof\\ngentle sadness pervaded the room.\\n\\nThen a sweet young lady entered, leading a meek-looking little\\nfox-terrier, and left him, chained up there, between the bull-dog and\",\n \"able to get him to stop long. I used to sit down and look at him, as he\\nsat on the rug and looked up at me, and think: âOh, that dog will never\\nlive. He will be snatched up to the bright skies in a chariot, that is\\nwhat will happen to him.â\\n\\nBut, when I had paid for about a dozen chickens that he had killed; and\\nhad dragged him, growling and kicking, by the scruff of his neck, out of\\na hundred and fourteen street fights; and had had\",\n \"that, perhaps, it would be better for him to stop in the\\nboat, and get tea ready, while Harris and I towed, because getting tea\\nwas such a worrying work, and Harris and I looked tired. The only reply\\nwe made to this, however, was to pass him over the tow-line, and he took\\nit, and stepped out.\\n\\n[Picture: Dog wrapped in tow-line] There is something very strange and\\nunaccountable about a tow-line. You roll it up with as much patience and\\ncare as you would take to fold up a new\",\n \"market, and asked if it was a vestry\\nmeeting; or, if not, who was being murdered, and why? Men came with\\npoles and ropes, and tried to separate the dogs, and the police were sent\\nfor.\\n\\nAnd in the midst of the riot that sweet young lady returned, and snatched\\nup that sweet little dog of hers (he had laid the tyke up for a month,\\nand had on the expression, now, of a new-born lamb) into her arms, and\\nkissed him, and asked him if he was killed,\",\n \"young lady entered, leading a meek-looking little\\nfox-terrier, and left him, chained up there, between the bull-dog and the\\npoodle. He sat and looked about him for a minute. Then he cast up his\\neyes to the ceiling, and seemed, judging from his expression, to be\\nthinking of his mother. Then he yawned. Then he looked round at the\\nother dogs, all silent, grave, and dignified.\\n\\nHe looked at the bull-dog, sleeping dreamlessly on his right. He looked\\n\",\n \"\\nhe pretended that the lemons were rats, and got into the hamper and\\nkilled three of them before Harris could land him with the frying-pan.\\n\\nHarris said I encouraged him. I didnât encourage him. A dog like that\\ndonât want any encouragement. Itâs the natural, original sin that is\\nborn in him that makes him do things like that.\\n\\nThe packing was done at 12.50; and Harris sat on the big hamper, and said\\nhe hoped nothing would\",\n \"â asked Harris and I.\\n\\nâWhy that!â said George, looking westward.\\n\\n[Picture: The dog] Harris and I followed his gaze, and saw, coming down\\ntowards us on the sluggish current, a dog. It was one of the quietest\\nand peacefullest dogs I have ever seen. I never met a dog who seemed\\nmore contentedâmore easy in its mind. It was floating dreamily on its\\nback, with its four legs stuck up straight into the air. It was what\",\n \"dogs, all silent, grave, and dignified.\\n\\nHe looked at the bull-dog, sleeping dreamlessly on his right. He looked\\nat the poodle, erect and haughty, on his left. Then, without a word of\\nwarning, without the shadow of a provocation, he bit that poodleâs near\\nfore-leg, and a yelp of agony rang through the quiet shades of that\\nlobby.\\n\\nThe result of his first experiment seemed highly satisfactory to him, and\\nhe determined to go on and make things\",\n \"in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâs idea of âlife;â and so,\\nas I before observed, he gave to the suggestion of inns, and pubs., and\\nhotels his most emphatic approbation.\\n\\nHaving thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all\\nfour of us, the only thing left to discuss was what we should take with\\nus; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said heâ\",\n \". At the first sound the\\nkettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threatening\\nattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and it\\nup and spit at him.\\n\\n[Picture: Montmorency and the kettle] âAh! would ye!â growled\\nMontmorency, showing his teeth; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty\",\n \"caught the bull-dog by the ear, and\\ntried to throw him away; and the bull-dog, a curiously impartial animal,\\nwent for everything he could reach, including the hall-porter, which gave\\nthat dear little terrier the opportunity to enjoy an uninterrupted fight\\nof his own with an equally willing Yorkshire tyke.\\n\\nAnyone who knows canine nature need hardly, be told that, by this time,\\nall the other dogs in the place were fighting as if their hearths and\\nhomes depended on the fray. The big dogs fought\",\n \"A\\npeaceful dog.âStrange disappearance of Harris and a pie.\\n\\nMarlow is one of the pleasantest river centres I know of. It is a\\nbustling, lively little town; not very picturesque on the whole, it is\\ntrue, but there are many quaint nooks and corners to be found in it,\\nneverthelessâstanding arches in the shattered bridge of Time, over which\\nour fancy travels back to the days when Marlow Manor owned Saxon Algar\\nfor its lord, ere conqu\",\n \"sent up such a yell across the water that\\nmade the night seem to shake in its bed.\\n\\nWe waited breathless for a minute, and thenâoh! divinest music of the\\ndarkness!âwe heard the answering bark of Montmorency. We shouted back\\nloud enough to wake the Seven SleepersâI never could understand myself\\nwhy it should take more noise to wake seven sleepers than oneâand, after\\nwhat seemed an hour, but what was really, I suppose, about five minutes,\\nwe saw the lighted\",\n \"I remember being in the lobby of the Haymarket Stores one day, and all\\nround about me were dogs, waiting for the return of their owners, who\\nwere shopping inside. There were a mastiff, and one or two collies, and\\na St. Bernard, a few retrievers and Newfoundlands, a boar-hound, a French\\npoodle, with plenty of hair round its head, but mangy about the middle; a\\nbull-dog, a few Lowther Arcade sort of animals, about the size of rats,\\nand a couple of\"\n ],\n [\n \"make love to Miss Smith and Miss Brown, who are\\nplain and elderly, and havenât got any lovers? They themselves donât\\nwant lovers. They never mean to marry.\\n\\nIt does not do to dwell on these things; it makes one so sad.\\n\\nThere was a boy at our school, we used to call him Sandford and Merton.\\nHis real name was Stivvings. He was the most extraordinary lad I ever\\ncame across. I believe he really liked study. He used to get into awful\\nrows for sitting\",\n \"ing him, jeering at him. They peppered him with stale jokes, they\\neven made a few new ones and threw at him. They hurled at him all the\\nprivate family jokes belonging to our set, and which must have been\\nperfectly unintelligible to him. And then, unable to stand their brutal\\njibes any longer, he turned round on them, and they saw his face!\\n\\nI was glad to notice that they had sufficient decency left in them to\\nlook very foolish. They explained to him that they had thought he was\\nsome one\",\n \":\\n\\nâI say, Tom!â\\n\\nâYes!â\\n\\nâHow have you got on?â\\n\\nâWell, to tell you the truth, my manâs chucked _me_ out.â\\n\\nâSoâs mine! I say, I donât think much of this inn, do you?â\\n\\nâWhat was the name of that inn?â said Harris.\\n\\nâThe Pig\",\n \"\\nand you find your head in the fresh air. Two feet off, you dimly observe\\na half-dressed ruffian, waiting to kill you, and you are preparing for a\\nlife-and-death struggle with him, when it begins to dawn upon you that\\nitâs Jim.\\n\\nâOh, itâs you, is it?â he says, recognising you at the same moment.\\n\\nâYes,â you answer, rubbing your eyes; âwhatâs happened?â\",\n \"tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\\n\\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.?â\\n\\nI said I generally preferred to sleep _inside_ a bed.\\n\\nHarris said it was old.\\n\\nGeorge said:\\n\\nâWhat time shall I wake you fellows?â\\n\\nHarris said:\\n\\nâSeven.â\\n\\nI said:\\n\\nâNoâsix,â because I wanted to write some\",\n \", and they\\nstopped and watched him too. His back was towards them, and they only\\nsaw his jacket and cap. From this they immediately jumped to the\\nconclusion that it was I, their beloved companion, who was making an\\nexhibition of himself, and their delight knew no bounds. They commenced\\nto chaff him unmercifully.\\n\\nI did not grasp their mistake at first, and I thought, âHow rude of them\\nto go on like that, with a perfect stranger, too!â But before I could\\ncall\",\n \"â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\\n\\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\\nput it straight.\\n\\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\\nHarr\",\n \"that.\\n\\nThe packing was done at 12.50; and Harris sat on the big hamper, and said\\nhe hoped nothing would be found broken. George said that if anything was\\nbroken it was broken, which reflection seemed to comfort him. He also\\nsaid he was ready for bed. We were all ready for bed. Harris was to\\nsleep with us that night, and we went upstairs.\\n\\nWe tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\\n\\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.\",\n \"You think he would be upset,â she queried, âif I gave a man a sovereign\\nto take them away and bury them?â\\n\\nI answered that I thought he would never smile again.\\n\\nAn idea struck her. She said:\\n\\nâDo you mind keeping them for him? Let me send them round to you.â\\n\\nâMadam,â I replied, âfor myself I like the smell of cheese, and the\\njourney the other day with them from Liverpool I shall ever\",\n \", and turned their lanterns on him\\nand followed him about, and this had such an effect upon him at last that\\nhe began to feel as if he really had done something, and he got to\\nslinking down the by-streets and hiding in dark doorways when he heard\\nthe regulation flip-flop approaching.\\n\\nOf course, this conduct made the force only more distrustful of him than\\never, and they would come and rout him out and ask him what he was doing\\nthere; and when he answered, âNothing,â he had merely come out for\",\n \"shot up stream and sometimes he shot down stream, and at\\nother times he simply spun round and came up the other side of the pole.\\nAnd with every result he seemed equally surprised and annoyed.\\n\\nThe people about the river began to get quite absorbed in him after a\\nwhile, and to make bets with one another as to what would be the outcome\\nof his next push.\\n\\nIn the course of time my friends arrived on the opposite bank, and they\\nstopped and watched him too. His back was towards them, and they only\\nsaw his jacket and cap. From this\",\n \"rout him out and ask him what he was doing\\nthere; and when he answered, âNothing,â he had merely come out for a\\nstroll (it was then four oâclock in the morning), they looked as though\\nthey did not believe him, and two plain-clothes constables came home with\\nhim to see if he really did live where he had said he did. They saw him\\ngo in with his key, and then they took up a position opposite and watched\\nthe house.\\n\\nHe thought he would light the fire when he got inside, and\",\n \"him late at night, and practising\\nround the square. But the inhabitants complained to the police about it,\\nand a watch was set for him one night, and he was captured. The evidence\\nagainst him was very clear, and he was bound over to keep the peace for\\nsix months.\\n\\nHe seemed to lose heart in the business after that. He did make one or\\ntwo feeble efforts to take up the work again when the six months had\\nelapsed, but there was always the same coldnessâthe same want of sympathy\\non the part of the world to\",\n \"real thing, and only misleading. It was a country\\ncousin that Harris took in. He said:\\n\\nâWeâll just go in here, so that you can say youâve been, but itâs very\\nsimple. Itâs absurd to call it a maze. You keep on taking the first\\nturning to the right. Weâll just walk round for ten minutes, and then go\\nand get some lunch.â\\n\\nThey met some people soon after they had got inside\",\n \"What did Tom say about those cheeses?â\\n\\nI replied that he had directed they were to be kept in a moist place, and\\nthat nobody was to touch them.\\n\\nShe said:\\n\\nâNobodyâs likely to touch them. Had he smelt them?â\\n\\nI thought he had, and added that he seemed greatly attached to them.\\n\\nâYou think he would be upset,â she queried, âif I gave a man a sovereign\\nto take them away and b\",\n \"of\\nchess. But even that did not enliven him: it seemed slow somehow; so he\\ngave chess up and tried to read. He did not seem able to take any sort\\nof interest in reading either, so he put on his coat again and went out\\nfor a walk.\\n\\nIt was horribly lonesome and dismal, and all the policemen he met\\nregarded him with undisguised suspicion, and turned their lanterns on him\\nand followed him about, and this had such an effect upon him at last that\\nhe began to feel as\",\n \", laughing heartily. âYes, they are the sort\\nto give it _me_, to put up in _my_ parlour, if _they_ had caught it, they\\nare! Ha! ha! ha!â\\n\\nAnd then he told us the real history of the fish. It seemed that he had\\ncaught it himself, years ago, when he was quite a lad; not by any art or\\nskill, but by that unaccountable luck that appears to always wait upon a\\nboy when he plays the wag from school, and goes out fishing on\",\n \", carrying a huge bunch of keys in his hand that\\nshook and jingled at every step.\\n\\nI motioned him away with silent dignity, but he still advanced,\\nscreeching out the while:\\n\\nâIâm a-coming, sur, Iâm a-coming. Iâm a little lame. I ainât as spry as\\nI used to be. This way, sur.â\\n\\nâGo away, you miserable old man,â I said.\\n\",\n \"and died\\nhappy.\\n\\nAt that moment an angel came by in the disguise of a small boy (and I\\ncannot think of any more effective disguise an angel could have assumed),\\nwith a can of beer in one hand, and in the other something at the end of\\na string, which he let down on to every flat stone he came across, and\\nthen pulled up again, this producing a peculiarly unattractive sound,\\nsuggestive of suffering.\\n\\nWe asked this heavenly messenger (as we discovered him afterwards to be)\\nif he knew of any\",\n \", we could go and see that\\ntomb. I donât believe heâs at the bank at all. Heâs larking about\\nsomewhere, thatâs what heâs doing, leaving us to do all the work. Iâm\\ngoing to get out, and have a drink.â\\n\\nI pointed out to him that we were miles away from a pub.; and then he\\nwent on about the river, and what was the good of the river, and was\\neveryone who came\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for it,\\nand nobody knew what had become of it.\\n\\nOur boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we\\nwended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we\\nstepped.\\n\\nâAre you all right, sir?â said the man.\\n\\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the\",\n \"direction, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be the 11.5 for Kingston.\\n\\nâNobody will ever know, on this line,â we said, âwhat you are, or where\\nyouâre going. You know the way, you slip off quietly and go to\\nKingston.â\\n\\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, â\",\n \"ston.â\\n\\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, âbut I suppose\\n_some_ trainâs got to go to Kingston; and Iâll do it. Gimme the\\nhalf-crown.â\\n\\nThus we got to Kingston by the London and South-Western Railway.\\n\\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo\",\n \"he was\\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\\nthat he rather thought he was. Anyhow, if he wasnât the 11.5 for\\nKingston, he said he was pretty confident he was the 9.32 for Virginia\\nWater, or the 10 a.m. express for the Isle of Wight, or somewhere in that\\ndirection, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be\",\n \"had been very little good\\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\\n\\nâWell, hang it all, Iâve done more than old J., anyhow,â rejoined Harris.\\n\\nâWell, you couldnât very well have done less,â added George.\\n\\nâI suppose J. thinks he is the passenger,â continued Harris.\\n\\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston,\",\n \"the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnât they\\ncouldnât say.\\n\\nThen our porter said he thought that must be it on the high-level\\nplatform; said he thought he knew the train. So we went to the\\nhigh-level platform, and saw the engine-driver, and asked him if he was\\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\\nthat he rather thought he was.\",\n \"about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâs friends,\\nwho had evidently sworn never to forsake him, we drove away amidst the\\ncheers of the crowd, Biggsâs boy shying a carrot after us for luck.\\n\\nWe got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started\\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\\ntrain is going to start from, or where\",\n \"The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\\nfrom the local.\\n\\nTo put an end to the matter, we went upstairs, and asked the traffic\\nsuperintendent, and he told us that he had just met a man, who said he\\nhad seen it at number three platform. We went to number three platform,\\nbut the authorities there said that they rather thought that train was\\nthe Southampton express, or else the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnâ\",\n \"an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted\\nanything.\\n\\nâWhatâs yours?â I said, turning to my friend.\\n\\nâIâll have half-a-crownâs worth of brandy, neat, if you please, miss,â he\\nresponded.\\n\\nAnd he went off quietly after he had drunk it and got into another\\ncarriage, which I thought mean.\\n\\nFrom Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded\",\n \",â observed George, casting a glance of intense\\nmalevolence over the boat, âit might be worth while to mention that\\nthereâs a train leaves Pangbourne, I know, soon after five, which would\\njust land us in town in comfortable time to get a chop, and then go on to\\nthe place you mentioned afterwards.â\\n\\nNobody spoke. We looked at one another, and each one seemed to see his\\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\\nsilence, we dragged out and over\",\n \"Harrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\\nfamily-man puts up a picture.âGeorge makes a sensible, remark.âDelights\\nof early morning bathing.âProvisions for getting upset.\\n\\nSo, on the following evening, we again assembled, to discuss and arrange\\nour plans. Harris said:\\n\\nâNow, the first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery\",\n \"all right, sir?â said the man.\\n\\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the sculls and I at the\\ntiller-lines, and Montmorency, unhappy and deeply suspicious, in the\\nprow, out we shot on to the waters which, for a fortnight, were to be our\\nhome.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER VI.\\n\\n\\nKingston.âInstructive remarks on early English history.âInstructive\\nobservations on carved oak and life in general.â\",\n \"miles an hour. The wind still blew in his direction, and\\nbefore we reached the end of the street he was laying himself out at the\\nrate of nearly four miles an hour, leaving the cripples and stout old\\nladies simply nowhere.\\n\\nIt took two porters as well as the driver to hold him in at the station;\\nand I do not think they would have done it, even then, had not one of the\\nmen had the presence of mind to put a handkerchief over his nose, and to\\nlight a bit of brown paper.\\n\\nI took my ticket\",\n \"wedding, and pointed out Harris as the\\nbridegroom; while the elder and more thoughtful among the populace\\ninclined to the idea that it was a funeral, and that I was probably the\\ncorpseâs brother.\\n\\nAt last, an empty cab turned up (it is a street where, as a rule, and\\nwhen they are not wanted, empty cabs pass at the rate of three a minute,\\nand hang about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâ\",\n \"That amused Harris.\\n\\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\\nhalf-an-hour of it would kill him. Have you ever seen George work?â he\\nadded, turning to me.\\n\\nI agreed with Harris that I never hadâmost certainly not since we had\\nstarted on this trip.\\n\\nâWell, I donât see how _you_ can know much about it, one way or the\\nother,â George retorted on Harris; â\",\n \"it and got into another\\ncarriage, which I thought mean.\\n\\nFrom Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded.\\nAs we drew up at the different stations, the people, seeing my empty\\ncarriage, would rush for it. âHere yâ are, Maria; come along, plenty of\\nroom.â âAll right, Tom; weâll get in here,â they would shout. And they\\nwould run along, carrying heavy bags, and fight round the door to get in\",\n \"\\nâThey ainât a-going to cross the Atlantic,â struck in Biggsâs boy;\\nâtheyâre a-going to find Stanley.â\\n\\nBy this time, quite a small crowd had collected, and people were asking\\neach other what was the matter. One party (the young and giddy portion\\nof the crowd) held that it was a wedding, and pointed out Harris as the\\nbridegroom; while the elder and more thoughtful among the populace\\ninclined to the idea that\",\n \"escaped destruction, and take them back to Jedo as ancient English\\ncurios.\\n\\nAt this point Harris threw away the sculls, got up and left his seat, and\\nsat on his back, and stuck his legs in the air. Montmorency howled, and\\nturned a somersault, and the top hamper jumped up, and all the things\\ncame out.\\n\\nI was somewhat surprised, but I did not lose my temper. I said,\\npleasantly enough:\\n\\nâHulloa! whatâs that for?\",\n \"ourselves; and he laughed pleasantly, and said that some\\npeople made such a fuss over a little thing. But even he grew strangely\\ndepressed after we had started, and so, when we reached Crewe, I asked\\nhim to come and have a drink. He accepted, and we forced our way into\\nthe buffet, where we yelled, and stamped, and waved our umbrellas for a\\nquarter of an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted\\nanything.\\n\\nâWhatâs yours?\",\n \"âSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\\nnor gaudy costume:\\n\\nBlack leather shoes, dirty; suit of boating flannels, very dirty; brown\\nfelt hat, much battered; mackintosh, very wet; umbrella.\\n\\nWe had deceived the boatman at Pangbourne. We had not had the face to\\ntell him that we were running away from the rain. We had left the boat,\\nand all it contained, in his charge, with instructions that it was to be\\nready for\"\n ],\n [\n \"ât had any dinner). It seems to suit everybody, however, which is\\ngreatly to its credit.\\n\\nIt suited me to a âTâ too, and Harris and I both said it was a good idea\\nof Georgeâs; and we said it in a tone that seemed to somehow imply that\\nwe were surprised that George should have come out so sensible.\\n\\n[Picture: Montmorency] The only one who was not struck with the\\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\",\n \"a pleasure. Sure you donât want anything,\\nnow?â\\n\\nMONTMORENCY (_still backing_): âNot at all, thanksânot at allâvery kind\\nof you. Good morning.â\\n\\nTHE CAT: âGood-morning.â\\n\\nThen the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what\\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\\nan unimportant position in the\",\n \"cy, who had evinced great\\ninterest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and\\nthoughtful air, reappearing, a few minutes afterwards, with a dead\\nwater-rat in his mouth, which he evidently wished to present as his\\ncontribution to the dinner; whether in a sarcastic spirit, or with a\\ngenuine desire to assist, I cannot say.\\n\\nWe had a discussion as to whether the rat should go in or not. Harris\\nsaid that he thought it would be all right, mixed up with the other\\nthings\",\n \"in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâs idea of âlife;â and so,\\nas I before observed, he gave to the suggestion of inns, and pubs., and\\nhotels his most emphatic approbation.\\n\\nHaving thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all\\nfour of us, the only thing left to discuss was what we should take with\\nus; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said heâ\",\n \". At the first sound the\\nkettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threatening\\nattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and it\\nup and spit at him.\\n\\n[Picture: Montmorency and the kettle] âAh! would ye!â growled\\nMontmorency, showing his teeth; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty\",\n \"; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye.\\nCome on!â\\n\\nAnd he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout.\\n\\nThen, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp, and\\nMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\\nthen to\",\n \"â he exclaimed, indignantly.\\n\\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\\n\\nâStand still, canât you!â roared George, flying after him.\\n\\nAnd they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.\\n\\nMontmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorencyâs ambition in life, is\\nto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he\\nparticularly is not wanted\",\n \"\\n\\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy; and if a trifle low, so\\nmuch the jollier. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was\\nan angel sent upon the earth, for some reason withheld from mankind, in\\nthe shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of\\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-\",\n \"mon, and he emptied that into the pot.\\n\\nHe said that was the advantage of Irish stew: you got rid of such a lot\\nof things. I fished out a couple of eggs that had got cracked, and put\\nthose in. George said they would thicken the gravy.\\n\\nI forget the other ingredients, but I know nothing was wasted; and I\\nremember that, towards the end, Montmorency, who had evinced great\\ninterest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and\\nthoughtful air, reappearing\",\n \"the clank of cutlery and crockery, and the\\nsteady grinding of four sets of molars. At the end of five-and-thirty\\nminutes, Harris said, âAh!â and took his left leg out from under him and\\nput his right one there instead.\\n\\nFive minutes afterwards, George said, âAh!â too, and threw his plate out\\non the bank; and, three minutes later than that, Montmorency gave the\\nfirst sign of contentment he had exhibited since we had started,\",\n \"venture his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\\nshillings by backing him to kill rats against time, then I began to think\\nthat maybe theyâd let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.\\n\\nTo hang about a stable, and collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs\\nto be found in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâ\",\n \"as for the gravy, it was a poemâa\\nlittle too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious.\\n\\nWe finished up with tea and cherry tart. Montmorency had a fight with\\nthe kettle during tea-time, and came off a poor second.\\n\\nThroughout the trip, he had manifested great curiosity concerning the\\nkettle. He would sit and watch it, as it boiled, with a puzzled\\nexpression, and would try and rouse it every now and then by growling at\\nit\",\n \"long day.\\n\\nThe order of the procession was as follows:â\\n\\n Montmorency, carrying a stick.\\n Two disreputable-looking curs, friends of Montmorencyâs.\\n George, carrying coats and rugs, and smoking a short pipe.\\n Harris, trying to walk with easy grace,\\n while carrying a bulged-out Gladstone bag in one hand\\n and a bottle of lime-juice in the other.\\n Greengrocerâs boy and bakerâ\",\n \"morency, fitting what\\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\\nan unimportant position in the rear.\\n\\nTo this day, if you say the word âCats!â to Montmorency, he will visibly\\nshrink and look up piteously at you, as if to say:\\n\\nâPlease donât.â\\n\\nWe did our marketing after breakfast, and revictualled the boat for three\\ndays. George said we ought to take vegetablesâ\",\n \"the boy with us.\\n\\nWe went to a good many shops, adopting this principle at each one; and\\nthe consequence was that, by the time we had finished, we had as fine a\\ncollection of boys with baskets following us around as heart could\\ndesire; and our final march down the middle of the High Street, to the\\nriver, must have been as imposing a spectacle as Marlow had seen for many\\na long day.\\n\\nThe order of the procession was as follows:â\\n\\n Montmorency, carrying a stick.\\n\",\n \"âthe sort of cry\\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\\nafter his prey.\\n\\nHis victim was a large black Tom. I never saw a larger cat, nor a more\\ndisreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears,\\nand a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long,\\nsinewy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\\n\\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of\",\n \"a sort of\\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-do-something-to-\\nmake-it-better-and-nobler expression about Montmorency that has been\\nknown to bring the tears into the eyes of pious old ladies and gentlemen.\\n\\nWhen first he came to live at my expense, I never thought I should be\\nable to get him to stop long. I used to sit down and look at him, as he\\nsat on the rug and looked up at me,\",\n \"he wished he had not\\ngiven way to it that morning.\\n\\nWe were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-way up the High\\nStreet a cat darted out from one of the houses in front of us, and began\\nto trot across the road. Montmorency gave a cry of joyâthe cry of a\\nstern warrior who sees his enemy given over to his handsâthe sort of cry\\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\\nafter his prey\",\n \"you are all three speechless, owing to having caught\\nsevere colds in the night; you also feel very quarrelsome, and you swear\\nat each other in hoarse whispers during the whole of breakfast time.\\n\\nWe therefore decided that we would sleep out on fine nights; and hotel\\nit, and inn it, and pub. it, like respectable folks, when it was wet, or\\nwhen we felt inclined for a change.\\n\\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy;\",\n \"Further provision for getting upset.âI\\npack.âCussedness of tooth-brushes.âGeorge and Harris pack.âAwful\\nbehaviour of Montmorency.âWe retire to rest.\\n\\nThen we discussed the food question. George said:\\n\\nâBegin with breakfast.â (George is so practical.) âNow for breakfast we\\nshall want a frying-panââ(Harris said it was indigestible;\"\n ],\n [\n \"evening, when the pipes\\nare lit and the boys are telling stretchers about the dangers they have\\npassed through, George brings it down and shows it round, and the\\nstirring tale is told anew, with fresh exaggerations every time.\\n\\nHarris got off with merely a flesh wound.\\n\\nAfter that, I took the tin off myself, and hammered at it with the mast\\ntill I was worn out and sick at heart, whereupon Harris took it in hand.\\n\\n[Picture: Flattened tin] We beat it out flat; we beat\",\n \"him late at night, and practising\\nround the square. But the inhabitants complained to the police about it,\\nand a watch was set for him one night, and he was captured. The evidence\\nagainst him was very clear, and he was bound over to keep the peace for\\nsix months.\\n\\nHe seemed to lose heart in the business after that. He did make one or\\ntwo feeble efforts to take up the work again when the six months had\\nelapsed, but there was always the same coldnessâthe same want of sympathy\\non the part of the world to\",\n \"during the\\nafternoon, and at one time it seemed to him that he had been eating\\nnothing but boiled beef for weeks, and at other times it seemed that he\\nmust have been living on strawberries and cream for years.\\n\\nNeither the beef nor the strawberries and cream seemed happy,\\neitherâseemed discontented like.\\n\\nAt six, they came and told him dinner was ready. The announcement\\naroused no enthusiasm within him, but he felt that there was some of that\\ntwo-pound-five to be worked off, and he held\",\n \"now. They told me he wur in the river, and I said Iâd have him, and\\nso I did. You donât see many fish that size about here now, Iâm\\nthinking. Good-night, gentlemen, good-night.â\\n\\nAnd out he went, and left us alone.\\n\\nWe could not take our eyes off the fish after that. It really was a\\nremarkably fine fish. We were still looking at it, when the local\\ncarrier, who had just stopped at the inn\",\n \"brought out the mast, and George held the tin and Harris held the\\nsharp end of his stone against the top of it, and I took the mast and\\npoised it high up in the air, and gathered up all my strength and brought\\nit down.\\n\\nIt was Georgeâs straw hat that saved his life that day. He keeps that\\nhat now (what is left of it), and, of a winterâs evening, when the pipes\\nare lit and the boys are telling stretchers about the dangers they have\\npassed through, George brings it down and\",\n \"ettle boils over, and puts the stove out.\\n\\nWe adopted this harmless bit of trickery, and the result was that, by the\\ntime everything else was ready, the tea was waiting. Then we lit the\\nlantern, and squatted down to supper.\\n\\nWe wanted that supper.\\n\\nFor five-and-thirty minutes not a sound was heard throughout the length\\nand breadth of that boat, save the clank of cutlery and crockery, and the\\nsteady grinding of four sets of molars. At the end of five-\",\n \"the house of\\na certain Mrs. Gippings. He said his watch went wrong one evening, and\\nstopped at a quarter-past eight. He did not know this at the time\\nbecause, for some reason or other, he forgot to wind it up when he went\\nto bed (an unusual occurrence with him), and hung it up over his pillow\\nwithout ever looking at the thing.\\n\\nIt was in the winter when this happened, very near the shortest day, and\\na week of fog into the bargain, so the fact that it was still very dark\\nwhen George\",\n \"divided at Easter,\\nbetween two boys and two girls who âhave never been undutiful to their\\nparents; who have never been known to swear or to tell untruths, to\\nsteal, or to break windows.â Fancy giving up all that for five shillings\\na year! It is not worth it.\\n\\nIt is rumoured in the town that once, many years ago, a boy appeared who\\nreally never had done these thingsâor at all events, which was all that\\nwas required or could be expected, had never been\",\n \"same moment.\\n\\nâYes,â you answer, rubbing your eyes; âwhatâs happened?â\\n\\nâBally tentâs blown down, I think,â he says. âWhereâs Bill?â\\n\\nThen you both raise up your voices and shout for âBill!â and the ground\\nbeneath you heaves and rocks, and the muffled voice that you heard before\\nreplies from out the ruin:\\n\\nâGet off\",\n \"side, and some great Baron on\\nhis war-horse, with his guard of squires around him, passes along to take\\nhis station at the head of his serfs and vassals.\\n\\nAnd up the slope of Cooperâs Hill, just opposite, are gathered the\\nwondering rustics and curious townsfolk, who have run from Staines, and\\nnone are quite sure what the bustle is about, but each one has a\\ndifferent version of the great event that they have come to see; and some\\nsay that much good to all the people will come from\",\n \", and turned their lanterns on him\\nand followed him about, and this had such an effect upon him at last that\\nhe began to feel as if he really had done something, and he got to\\nslinking down the by-streets and hiding in dark doorways when he heard\\nthe regulation flip-flop approaching.\\n\\nOf course, this conduct made the force only more distrustful of him than\\never, and they would come and rout him out and ask him what he was doing\\nthere; and when he answered, âNothing,â he had merely come out for\",\n \"thing, but I came over and sat on the edge of the table and watched\\nthem. It irritated them more than anything I could have said. I felt\\nthat. It made them nervous and excited, and they stepped on things, and\\nput things behind them, and then couldnât find them when they wanted\\nthem; and they packed the pies at the bottom, and put heavy things on\\ntop, and smashed the pies in.\\n\\nThey upset salt over everything, and as for the butter! I never saw two\\nmen do more with one-\",\n \"\\nstop where they were, and he would come to them. They huddled together,\\nand waited; and he climbed down, and came in.\\n\\nHe was a young keeper, as luck would have it, and new to the business;\\nand when he got in, he couldnât find them, and he wandered about, trying\\nto get to them, and then _he_ got lost. They caught sight of him, every\\nnow and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see\\nthem, and rush to get to them\",\n \"spent the evening with them.\\n\\nThey had a very jolly evening, and sat up late, and, by the time they\\ncame to go to bed, they (this was when Georgeâs father was a very young\\nman) were slightly jolly, too. They (Georgeâs father and Georgeâs\\nfatherâs friend) were to sleep in the same room, but in different beds.\\nThey took the candle, and went up. The candle lurched up against the\\nwall when they got into the room, and went out,\",\n \"wonderful oarsmen as Jack\\nand Tom, and strain away harder than ever.\\n\\nWhen I was a young man, I used to listen to these tales from my elders,\\nand take them in, and swallow them, and digest every word of them, and\\nthen come up for more; but the new generation do not seem to have the\\nsimple faith of the old times. WeâGeorge, Harris, and myselfâtook a âraw\\nâunâ up with us once last season, and we plied him with the customary\\n\",\n \"sters brag away for a while, and then, during a momentary lull, he\\nremoves the pipe from his mouth, and remarks, as he knocks the ashes out\\nagainst the bars:\\n\\nâWell, I had a haul on Tuesday evening that itâs not much good my telling\\nanybody about.â\\n\\nâOh! whyâs that?â they ask.\\n\\nâBecause I donât expect anybody would believe me if I did,â replies the\\nold fellow\",\n \"happened, very near the shortest day, and\\na week of fog into the bargain, so the fact that it was still very dark\\nwhen George woke in the morning was no guide to him as to the time. He\\nreached up, and hauled down his watch. It was a quarter-past eight.\\n\\nâAngels and ministers of grace defend us!â exclaimed George; âand here\\nhave I got to be in the City by nine. Why didnât somebody call me? Oh,\\nthis is a shame\",\n \"up the river. It stands on\\nthe right of the bridge, quite away from the village. Its low-pitched\\ngables and thatched roof and latticed windows give it quite a story-book\\nappearance, while inside it is even still more once-upon-a-timeyfied.\\n\\nIt would not be a good place for the heroine of a modern novel to stay\\nat. The heroine of a modern novel is always âdivinely tall,â and she is\\never âdrawing herself up to her full height.\",\n \"shouted in his ear,\\nand he awoke.\\n\\nâWasermarrer?â he observed, sitting up.\\n\\nâGet up, you fat-headed chunk!â roared Harris. âItâs quarter to ten.â\\n\\nâWhat!â he shrieked, jumping out of bed into the bath; âWho the thunder\\nput this thing here?â\\n\\nWe told him he must have been a fool not to see the bath.\\n\\nWe finished\",\n \"vets, and fair faces. The large and spacious houses, with their\\noriel, latticed windows, their huge fireplaces, and their gabled roofs,\\nbreathe of the days of hose and doublet, of pearl-embroidered stomachers,\\nand complicated oaths. They were upraised in the days âwhen men knew how\\nto build.â The hard red bricks have only grown more firmly set with\\ntime, and their oak stairs do not creak and grunt when you try to go down\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâs friends,\\nwho had evidently sworn never to forsake him, we drove away amidst the\\ncheers of the crowd, Biggsâs boy shying a carrot after us for luck.\\n\\nWe got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started\\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\\ntrain is going to start from, or where\",\n \"\\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for it,\\nand nobody knew what had become of it.\\n\\nOur boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we\\nwended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we\\nstepped.\\n\\nâAre you all right, sir?â said the man.\\n\\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the\",\n \"âSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\\nnor gaudy costume:\\n\\nBlack leather shoes, dirty; suit of boating flannels, very dirty; brown\\nfelt hat, much battered; mackintosh, very wet; umbrella.\\n\\nWe had deceived the boatman at Pangbourne. We had not had the face to\\ntell him that we were running away from the rain. We had left the boat,\\nand all it contained, in his charge, with instructions that it was to be\\nready for\",\n \"-five started\\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\\ntrain is going to start from, or where a train when it does start is\\ngoing to, or anything about it. The porter who took our things thought\\nit would go from number two platform, while another porter, with whom he\\ndiscussed the question, had heard a rumour that it would go from number\\none. The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\\nfrom the local.\\n\\nTo put an end to the matter, we went\",\n \"The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\\nfrom the local.\\n\\nTo put an end to the matter, we went upstairs, and asked the traffic\\nsuperintendent, and he told us that he had just met a man, who said he\\nhad seen it at number three platform. We went to number three platform,\\nbut the authorities there said that they rather thought that train was\\nthe Southampton express, or else the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnâ\",\n \"ston.â\\n\\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, âbut I suppose\\n_some_ trainâs got to go to Kingston; and Iâll do it. Gimme the\\nhalf-crown.â\\n\\nThus we got to Kingston by the London and South-Western Railway.\\n\\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo\",\n \"he was\\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\\nthat he rather thought he was. Anyhow, if he wasnât the 11.5 for\\nKingston, he said he was pretty confident he was the 9.32 for Virginia\\nWater, or the 10 a.m. express for the Isle of Wight, or somewhere in that\\ndirection, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be\",\n \"ched, and was only wasting his time, he sneaked the cigarette\\nthat I had carefully rolled up for myself, and went.\\n\\nThen Harris and I, having finished up the few things left on the table,\\ncarted out our luggage on to the doorstep, and waited for a cab.\\n\\n [Picture: The luggage]\\n\\nThere seemed a good deal of luggage, when we put it all together. There\\nwas the Gladstone and the small hand-bag, and the two hampers, and a\\nlarge roll of rugs, and some four\",\n \"and each one seemed to see his\\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\\nsilence, we dragged out and overhauled the Gladstone. We looked up the\\nriver and down the river; not a soul was in sight!\\n\\nTwenty minutes later, three figures, followed by a shamed-looking dog,\\nmight have been seen creeping stealthily from the boat-house at the\\nâSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\\nnor gaudy costume:\\n\\nBlack leather shoes,\",\n \"sniffing, and, at the third sniff, they caught\\nit right on the chest, and rose up without another word and went out.\\nAnd then a stout lady got up, and said it was disgraceful that a\\nrespectable married woman should be harried about in this way, and\\ngathered up a bag and eight parcels and went. The remaining four\\npassengers sat on for a while, until a solemn-looking man in the corner,\\nwho, from his dress and general appearance, seemed to belong to the\\nundertaker class, said it put him in\",\n \"Harrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\\nfamily-man puts up a picture.âGeorge makes a sensible, remark.âDelights\\nof early morning bathing.âProvisions for getting upset.\\n\\nSo, on the following evening, we again assembled, to discuss and arrange\\nour plans. Harris said:\\n\\nâNow, the first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery\",\n \"an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted\\nanything.\\n\\nâWhatâs yours?â I said, turning to my friend.\\n\\nâIâll have half-a-crownâs worth of brandy, neat, if you please, miss,â he\\nresponded.\\n\\nAnd he went off quietly after he had drunk it and got into another\\ncarriage, which I thought mean.\\n\\nFrom Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded\",\n \"miles an hour. The wind still blew in his direction, and\\nbefore we reached the end of the street he was laying himself out at the\\nrate of nearly four miles an hour, leaving the cripples and stout old\\nladies simply nowhere.\\n\\nIt took two porters as well as the driver to hold him in at the station;\\nand I do not think they would have done it, even then, had not one of the\\nmen had the presence of mind to put a handkerchief over his nose, and to\\nlight a bit of brown paper.\\n\\nI took my ticket\",\n \",â observed George, casting a glance of intense\\nmalevolence over the boat, âit might be worth while to mention that\\nthereâs a train leaves Pangbourne, I know, soon after five, which would\\njust land us in town in comfortable time to get a chop, and then go on to\\nthe place you mentioned afterwards.â\\n\\nNobody spoke. We looked at one another, and each one seemed to see his\\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\\nsilence, we dragged out and over\",\n \"wedding, and pointed out Harris as the\\nbridegroom; while the elder and more thoughtful among the populace\\ninclined to the idea that it was a funeral, and that I was probably the\\ncorpseâs brother.\\n\\nAt last, an empty cab turned up (it is a street where, as a rule, and\\nwhen they are not wanted, empty cabs pass at the rate of three a minute,\\nand hang about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâ\",\n \"\\nâThey ainât a-going to cross the Atlantic,â struck in Biggsâs boy;\\nâtheyâre a-going to find Stanley.â\\n\\nBy this time, quite a small crowd had collected, and people were asking\\neach other what was the matter. One party (the young and giddy portion\\nof the crowd) held that it was a wedding, and pointed out Harris as the\\nbridegroom; while the elder and more thoughtful among the populace\\ninclined to the idea that\",\n \"the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnât they\\ncouldnât say.\\n\\nThen our porter said he thought that must be it on the high-level\\nplatform; said he thought he knew the train. So we went to the\\nhigh-level platform, and saw the engine-driver, and asked him if he was\\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\\nthat he rather thought he was.\",\n \"that.\\n\\nThe packing was done at 12.50; and Harris sat on the big hamper, and said\\nhe hoped nothing would be found broken. George said that if anything was\\nbroken it was broken, which reflection seemed to comfort him. He also\\nsaid he was ready for bed. We were all ready for bed. Harris was to\\nsleep with us that night, and we went upstairs.\\n\\nWe tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\\n\\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.\",\n \"it and got into another\\ncarriage, which I thought mean.\\n\\nFrom Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded.\\nAs we drew up at the different stations, the people, seeing my empty\\ncarriage, would rush for it. âHere yâ are, Maria; come along, plenty of\\nroom.â âAll right, Tom; weâll get in here,â they would shout. And they\\nwould run along, carrying heavy bags, and fight round the door to get in\",\n \"s go in there! Letâs go on a bit further, and see if\\nthere isnât one with honeysuckle over it.â\\n\\nSo we went on till we came to another hotel. That was a very nice hotel,\\ntoo, and it had honey-suckle on it, round at the side; but Harris did not\\nlike the look of a man who was leaning against the front door. He said\\nhe didnât look a nice man at all, and he wore ugly boots: so we went on\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"That amused Harris.\\n\\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\\nhalf-an-hour of it would kill him. Have you ever seen George work?â he\\nadded, turning to me.\\n\\nI agreed with Harris that I never hadâmost certainly not since we had\\nstarted on this trip.\\n\\nâWell, I donât see how _you_ can know much about it, one way or the\\nother,â George retorted on Harris; â\",\n \"Harrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\\nfamily-man puts up a picture.âGeorge makes a sensible, remark.âDelights\\nof early morning bathing.âProvisions for getting upset.\\n\\nSo, on the following evening, we again assembled, to discuss and arrange\\nour plans. Harris said:\\n\\nâNow, the first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery\",\n \"this lumbering old top-heavy\\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\\nGeorge come and do some work? Why couldnât he have got the day off, and\\ncome down with us? Bank be blowed! What good was he at the bank?\\n\\nâI never see him doing any work there,â continued Harris, âwhenever I go\\nin. He sits behind a bit of glass all day, trying to look as if he was\\ndoing something.\",\n \".\\n\\nâAinât you going to put the boots in?â said Harris.\\n\\nAnd I looked round, and found I had forgotten them. Thatâs just like\\nHarris. He couldnât have said a word until Iâd got the bag shut and\\nstrapped, of course. And George laughedâone of those irritating,\\nsenseless, chuckle-headed, crack-jawed laughs of his. They do make me so\\nwild.\\n\\nI\",\n \"him. George, on the other hand, ridiculed the idea of\\nHarrisâs having done anything more than eat and sleep, and had a\\ncast-iron opinion that it was heâGeorge himselfâwho had done all the\\nlabour worth speaking of.\\n\\nHe said he had never been out with such a couple of lazily skulks as\\nHarris and I.\\n\\nThat amused Harris.\\n\\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\\nhalf\",\n \"first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery catalogue,\\nGeorge, and somebody give me a bit of pencil, and then Iâll make out a\\nlist.â\\n\\nThatâs Harris all overâso ready to take the burden of everything himself,\\nand put it on the backs of other people.\\n\\nHe always reminds me of my poor Uncle Podger. You never saw such a\\ncommotion up and down a house, in\",\n \"â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\\n\\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\\nput it straight.\\n\\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\\nHarr\",\n \"ât see how _you_ can know much about it, one way or the\\nother,â George retorted on Harris; âfor Iâm blest if you havenât been\\nasleep half the time. Have you ever seen Harris fully awake, except at\\nmeal-time?â asked George, addressing me.\\n\\nTruth compelled me to support George. Harris had been very little good\\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\\n\\nâWell, hang it all,\",\n \"m., and\\nthen there remained the hampers to do. Harris said that we should be\\nwanting to start in less than twelve hoursâ time, and thought that he and\\nGeorge had better do the rest; and I agreed and sat down, and they had a\\ngo.\\n\\nThey began in a light-hearted spirit, evidently intending to show me how\\nto do it. I made no comment; I only waited. When George is hanged,\\nHarris will be the worst packer in this world; and I looked at the piles\\n\",\n \"had been very little good\\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\\n\\nâWell, hang it all, Iâve done more than old J., anyhow,â rejoined Harris.\\n\\nâWell, you couldnât very well have done less,â added George.\\n\\nâI suppose J. thinks he is the passenger,â continued Harris.\\n\\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston,\",\n \"said he\\nwouldnât have joined if it hadnât been for the idea of seeing Mrs.\\nThomasâs tomb.\\n\\nI reminded him of George, and how we had to get the boat up to Shepperton\\nby five oâclock to meet him, and then he went for George. Why was George\\nto fool about all day, and leave us to lug this lumbering old top-heavy\\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\\nGe\",\n \"tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\\n\\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.?â\\n\\nI said I generally preferred to sleep _inside_ a bed.\\n\\nHarris said it was old.\\n\\nGeorge said:\\n\\nâWhat time shall I wake you fellows?â\\n\\nHarris said:\\n\\nâSeven.â\\n\\nI said:\\n\\nâNoâsix,â because I wanted to write some\",\n \"felt thirsty (I never knew George\\nwhen he didnât); and, as I had a presentiment that a little whisky, warm,\\nwith a slice of lemon, would do my complaint good, the debate was, by\\ncommon assent, adjourned to the following night; and the assembly put on\\nits hats and went out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER III.\\n\\n\\nArrangements settled.âHarrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\\nfamily-man puts up a picture.â\",\n \"\\nWe had been sitting huddled up in our rugs while George had been telling\\nme this true story, and on his finishing it I set to work to wake up\\nHarris with a scull. The third prod did it: and he turned over on the\\nother side, and said he would be down in a minute, and that he would have\\nhis lace-up boots. We soon let him know where he was, however, by the\\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\\nbeen sleeping the sleep of\",\n \"the vision faded, and the knight, kneeling upon the ground, thanked\\nthe good saint who into that sad wood had strayed his steps, so he had\\nseen the vision that lay there hid.\\n\\nAnd the name of the dark forest was Sorrow; but of the vision that the\\ngood knight saw therein we may not speak nor tell.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER XI.\\n\\n\\nHow George, once upon a time, got up early in the morning.âGeorge,\\nHarris, and Montmorency do not like the look of the cold\",\n \"floor, and sat round and looked\\nat it.\\n\\nI said Iâd pack.\\n\\nI rather pride myself on my packing. Packing is one of those many things\\nthat I feel I know more about than any other person living. (It\\nsurprises me myself, sometimes, how many of these subjects there are.) I\\nimpressed the fact upon George and Harris, and told them that they had\\nbetter leave the whole matter entirely to me. They fell into the\\nsuggestion with a readiness that had something uncanny about it. George\\nput\",\n \"that.\\n\\nThe packing was done at 12.50; and Harris sat on the big hamper, and said\\nhe hoped nothing would be found broken. George said that if anything was\\nbroken it was broken, which reflection seemed to comfort him. He also\\nsaid he was ready for bed. We were all ready for bed. Harris was to\\nsleep with us that night, and we went upstairs.\\n\\nWe tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\\n\\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.\",\n \"out on what we had determined should be a good dayâs journey.\\n\\nWe agreed that we would pull this morning, as a change from towing; and\\nHarris thought the best arrangement would be that George and I should\\nscull, and he steer. I did not chime in with this idea at all; I said I\\nthought Harris would have been showing a more proper spirit if he had\\nsuggested that he and George should work, and let me rest a bit. It\\nseemed to me that I was doing more than my fair share of the work\",\n \" And when we had done that George wanted\\nthe shaving tackle. We told him that he would have to go without shaving\\nthat morning, as we werenât going to unpack that bag again for him, nor\\nfor anyone like him.\\n\\nHe said:\\n\\nâDonât be absurd. How can I go into the City like this?â\\n\\nIt was certainly rather rough on the City, but what cared we for human\\nsuffering? As Harris said, in his common, vulgar way, the City would\\nhave\",\n \"that we should get up early in the morning, fling off\\nour rugs and shawls, and, throwing back the canvas, spring into the river\\nwith a joyous shout, and revel in a long delicious swim. Somehow, now\\nthe morning had come, the notion seemed less tempting. The water looked\\ndamp and chilly: the wind felt cold.\\n\\nâWell, whoâs going to be first in?â said Harris at last.\\n\\nThere was no rush for precedence. George settled the matter so far as he\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy; and if a trifle low, so\\nmuch the jollier. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was\\nan angel sent upon the earth, for some reason withheld from mankind, in\\nthe shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of\\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-\",\n \". At the first sound the\\nkettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threatening\\nattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and it\\nup and spit at him.\\n\\n[Picture: Montmorency and the kettle] âAh! would ye!â growled\\nMontmorency, showing his teeth; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty\",\n \"venture his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\\nshillings by backing him to kill rats against time, then I began to think\\nthat maybe theyâd let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.\\n\\nTo hang about a stable, and collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs\\nto be found in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâ\",\n \"; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye.\\nCome on!â\\n\\nAnd he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout.\\n\\nThen, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp, and\\nMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\\nthen to\",\n \"âthe sort of cry\\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\\nafter his prey.\\n\\nHis victim was a large black Tom. I never saw a larger cat, nor a more\\ndisreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears,\\nand a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long,\\nsinewy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\\n\\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of\",\n \"â he exclaimed, indignantly.\\n\\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\\n\\nâStand still, canât you!â roared George, flying after him.\\n\\nAnd they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.\\n\\nMontmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorencyâs ambition in life, is\\nto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he\\nparticularly is not wanted\",\n \"up its tail in a rigid,\\ncast-iron manner, arches its back, and wipes its nose up against my\\ntrousers; and all is gentleness and peace. When Montmorency meets a cat,\\nthe whole street knows about it; and there is enough bad language wasted\\nin ten seconds to last an ordinarily respectable man all his life, with\\ncare.\\n\\nI do not blame the dog (contenting myself, as a rule, with merely\\nclouting his head or throwing stones at him), because I take it that it\\nis his nature. Fox\",\n \"this disgraceful scene!â\\n\\nShe said that the people at the Stores had no right to allow great savage\\nthings like those other dogs to be put with respectable peopleâs dogs,\\nand that she had a great mind to summon somebody.\\n\\nSuch is the nature of fox-terriers; and, therefore, I do not blame\\nMontmorency for his tendency to row with cats; but he wished he had not\\ngiven way to it that morning.\\n\\nWe were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-\",\n \"the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\\nthen to bury his nose in a bit of cool mud.\\n\\nFrom that day Montmorency regarded the kettle with a mixture of awe,\\nsuspicion, and hate. Whenever he saw it he would growl and back at a\\nrapid rate, with his tail shut down, and the moment it was put upon the\\nstove he would promptly climb out of the boat, and sit on the bank, till\\nthe whole\",\n \"ât had any dinner). It seems to suit everybody, however, which is\\ngreatly to its credit.\\n\\nIt suited me to a âTâ too, and Harris and I both said it was a good idea\\nof Georgeâs; and we said it in a tone that seemed to somehow imply that\\nwe were surprised that George should have come out so sensible.\\n\\n[Picture: Montmorency] The only one who was not struck with the\\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\",\n \"in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâs idea of âlife;â and so,\\nas I before observed, he gave to the suggestion of inns, and pubs., and\\nhotels his most emphatic approbation.\\n\\nHaving thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all\\nfour of us, the only thing left to discuss was what we should take with\\nus; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said heâ\",\n \"he wished he had not\\ngiven way to it that morning.\\n\\nWe were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-way up the High\\nStreet a cat darted out from one of the houses in front of us, and began\\nto trot across the road. Montmorency gave a cry of joyâthe cry of a\\nstern warrior who sees his enemy given over to his handsâthe sort of cry\\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\\nafter his prey\",\n \"a sort of\\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-do-something-to-\\nmake-it-better-and-nobler expression about Montmorency that has been\\nknown to bring the tears into the eyes of pious old ladies and gentlemen.\\n\\nWhen first he came to live at my expense, I never thought I should be\\nable to get him to stop long. I used to sit down and look at him, as he\\nsat on the rug and looked up at me,\",\n \".âAnother wet\\nday.âFlight.âA little supper and a toast.\\n\\n[Picture: Dog running] We spent two very pleasant days at Oxford. There\\nare plenty of dogs in the town of Oxford. Montmorency had eleven fights\\non the first day, and fourteen on the second, and evidently thought he\\nhad got to heaven.\\n\\n[Picture: Dogs fighting] Among folk too constitutionally weak, or too\\nconstitutionally lazy, whichever it may be, to relish up-stream work\",\n \"wy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\\n\\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of twenty miles an hour;\\nbut the cat did not hurry upâdid not seem to have grasped the idea that\\nits life was in danger. It trotted quietly on until its would-be\\nassassin was within a yard of it, and then it turned round and sat down\\nin the middle of the road, and looked at Montmorency with a gentle,\\ninquiring expression, that said:\\n\\nâ\",\n \"river, to get a little practice, but it\\nwas never a success. Harrisâs language used to be enough to unnerve any\\nman; added to which, Montmorency would sit and howl steadily, right\\nthrough the performance. It was not giving the man a fair chance.\\n\\nâWhatâs he want to howl like that for when Iâm playing?â George would\\nexclaim indignantly, while taking aim at him with a boot.\\n\\nâWhat do you want to play like that\",\n \"a pleasure. Sure you donât want anything,\\nnow?â\\n\\nMONTMORENCY (_still backing_): âNot at all, thanksânot at allâvery kind\\nof you. Good morning.â\\n\\nTHE CAT: âGood-morning.â\\n\\nThen the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what\\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\\nan unimportant position in the\",\n \"gentleman, who may\\noften be met with about these regions, during the summer months, sculling\\nhimself along in easy vigorous style, or chatting genially to some old\\nlock-keeper, as he passes throughâuntil well the other side of Henley, it\\nis somewhat bare and dull.\\n\\nWe got up tolerably early on the Monday morning at Marlow, and went for a\\nbathe before breakfast; and, coming back, Montmorency made an awful ass\\nof himself. The only subject on which Montmorency and I have any serious\\n\",\n \"as for the gravy, it was a poemâa\\nlittle too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious.\\n\\nWe finished up with tea and cherry tart. Montmorency had a fight with\\nthe kettle during tea-time, and came off a poor second.\\n\\nThroughout the trip, he had manifested great curiosity concerning the\\nkettle. He would sit and watch it, as it boiled, with a puzzled\\nexpression, and would try and rouse it every now and then by growling at\\nit\",\n \", when he has succeeded in\\naccomplishing this, his conceit becomes quite unbearable.\\n\\nHe came and sat down on things, just when they were wanted to be packed;\\nand he laboured under the fixed belief that, whenever Harris or George\\nreached out their hand for anything, it was his cold, damp nose that they\\nwanted. He put his leg into the jam, and he worried the teaspoons, and\\nhe pretended that the lemons were rats, and got into the hamper and\\nkilled three of them before Harris could land him with the\"\n ],\n [\n \"ing him, jeering at him. They peppered him with stale jokes, they\\neven made a few new ones and threw at him. They hurled at him all the\\nprivate family jokes belonging to our set, and which must have been\\nperfectly unintelligible to him. And then, unable to stand their brutal\\njibes any longer, he turned round on them, and they saw his face!\\n\\nI was glad to notice that they had sufficient decency left in them to\\nlook very foolish. They explained to him that they had thought he was\\nsome one\",\n \"make love to Miss Smith and Miss Brown, who are\\nplain and elderly, and havenât got any lovers? They themselves donât\\nwant lovers. They never mean to marry.\\n\\nIt does not do to dwell on these things; it makes one so sad.\\n\\nThere was a boy at our school, we used to call him Sandford and Merton.\\nHis real name was Stivvings. He was the most extraordinary lad I ever\\ncame across. I believe he really liked study. He used to get into awful\\nrows for sitting\",\n \"\\nand you find your head in the fresh air. Two feet off, you dimly observe\\na half-dressed ruffian, waiting to kill you, and you are preparing for a\\nlife-and-death struggle with him, when it begins to dawn upon you that\\nitâs Jim.\\n\\nâOh, itâs you, is it?â he says, recognising you at the same moment.\\n\\nâYes,â you answer, rubbing your eyes; âwhatâs happened?â\",\n \", and they\\nstopped and watched him too. His back was towards them, and they only\\nsaw his jacket and cap. From this they immediately jumped to the\\nconclusion that it was I, their beloved companion, who was making an\\nexhibition of himself, and their delight knew no bounds. They commenced\\nto chaff him unmercifully.\\n\\nI did not grasp their mistake at first, and I thought, âHow rude of them\\nto go on like that, with a perfect stranger, too!â But before I could\\ncall\",\n \":\\n\\nâI say, Tom!â\\n\\nâYes!â\\n\\nâHow have you got on?â\\n\\nâWell, to tell you the truth, my manâs chucked _me_ out.â\\n\\nâSoâs mine! I say, I donât think much of this inn, do you?â\\n\\nâWhat was the name of that inn?â said Harris.\\n\\nâThe Pig\",\n \"shot up stream and sometimes he shot down stream, and at\\nother times he simply spun round and came up the other side of the pole.\\nAnd with every result he seemed equally surprised and annoyed.\\n\\nThe people about the river began to get quite absorbed in him after a\\nwhile, and to make bets with one another as to what would be the outcome\\nof his next push.\\n\\nIn the course of time my friends arrived on the opposite bank, and they\\nstopped and watched him too. His back was towards them, and they only\\nsaw his jacket and cap. From this\",\n \"rout him out and ask him what he was doing\\nthere; and when he answered, âNothing,â he had merely come out for a\\nstroll (it was then four oâclock in the morning), they looked as though\\nthey did not believe him, and two plain-clothes constables came home with\\nhim to see if he really did live where he had said he did. They saw him\\ngo in with his key, and then they took up a position opposite and watched\\nthe house.\\n\\nHe thought he would light the fire when he got inside, and\",\n \"tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\\n\\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.?â\\n\\nI said I generally preferred to sleep _inside_ a bed.\\n\\nHarris said it was old.\\n\\nGeorge said:\\n\\nâWhat time shall I wake you fellows?â\\n\\nHarris said:\\n\\nâSeven.â\\n\\nI said:\\n\\nâNoâsix,â because I wanted to write some\",\n \"that.\\n\\nThe packing was done at 12.50; and Harris sat on the big hamper, and said\\nhe hoped nothing would be found broken. George said that if anything was\\nbroken it was broken, which reflection seemed to comfort him. He also\\nsaid he was ready for bed. We were all ready for bed. Harris was to\\nsleep with us that night, and we went upstairs.\\n\\nWe tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\\n\\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.\",\n \", and turned their lanterns on him\\nand followed him about, and this had such an effect upon him at last that\\nhe began to feel as if he really had done something, and he got to\\nslinking down the by-streets and hiding in dark doorways when he heard\\nthe regulation flip-flop approaching.\\n\\nOf course, this conduct made the force only more distrustful of him than\\never, and they would come and rout him out and ask him what he was doing\\nthere; and when he answered, âNothing,â he had merely come out for\",\n \"You think he would be upset,â she queried, âif I gave a man a sovereign\\nto take them away and bury them?â\\n\\nI answered that I thought he would never smile again.\\n\\nAn idea struck her. She said:\\n\\nâDo you mind keeping them for him? Let me send them round to you.â\\n\\nâMadam,â I replied, âfor myself I like the smell of cheese, and the\\njourney the other day with them from Liverpool I shall ever\",\n \", carrying a huge bunch of keys in his hand that\\nshook and jingled at every step.\\n\\nI motioned him away with silent dignity, but he still advanced,\\nscreeching out the while:\\n\\nâIâm a-coming, sur, Iâm a-coming. Iâm a little lame. I ainât as spry as\\nI used to be. This way, sur.â\\n\\nâGo away, you miserable old man,â I said.\\n\",\n \"of\\nchess. But even that did not enliven him: it seemed slow somehow; so he\\ngave chess up and tried to read. He did not seem able to take any sort\\nof interest in reading either, so he put on his coat again and went out\\nfor a walk.\\n\\nIt was horribly lonesome and dismal, and all the policemen he met\\nregarded him with undisguised suspicion, and turned their lanterns on him\\nand followed him about, and this had such an effect upon him at last that\\nhe began to feel as\",\n \"him late at night, and practising\\nround the square. But the inhabitants complained to the police about it,\\nand a watch was set for him one night, and he was captured. The evidence\\nagainst him was very clear, and he was bound over to keep the peace for\\nsix months.\\n\\nHe seemed to lose heart in the business after that. He did make one or\\ntwo feeble efforts to take up the work again when the six months had\\nelapsed, but there was always the same coldnessâthe same want of sympathy\\non the part of the world to\",\n \"â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\\n\\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\\nput it straight.\\n\\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\\nHarr\",\n \"real thing, and only misleading. It was a country\\ncousin that Harris took in. He said:\\n\\nâWeâll just go in here, so that you can say youâve been, but itâs very\\nsimple. Itâs absurd to call it a maze. You keep on taking the first\\nturning to the right. Weâll just walk round for ten minutes, and then go\\nand get some lunch.â\\n\\nThey met some people soon after they had got inside\",\n \"solemn things, when his captor released him.\\n\\nHe regained his feet, and looked round for his would-be murderer. The\\nassassin was standing close by him, laughing heartily, but the moment he\\ncaught sight of Harrisâs face, as it emerged from the water, he started\\nback and seemed quite concerned.\\n\\nâI really beg your pardon,â he stammered confusedly, âbut I took you for\\na friend of mine!â\\n\\nHarris thought it was lucky for\",\n \"cousin swore he had noticed there seven minutes ago. Harris said: âOh,\\nimpossible!â but the woman with the baby said, âNot at all,â as she\\nherself had taken it from the child, and thrown it down there, just\\nbefore she met Harris. She also added that she wished she never had met\\nHarris, and expressed an opinion that he was an impostor. That made\\nHarris mad, and he produced his map, and explained his theory.\\n\\nâThe map\",\n \"and died\\nhappy.\\n\\nAt that moment an angel came by in the disguise of a small boy (and I\\ncannot think of any more effective disguise an angel could have assumed),\\nwith a can of beer in one hand, and in the other something at the end of\\na string, which he let down on to every flat stone he came across, and\\nthen pulled up again, this producing a peculiarly unattractive sound,\\nsuggestive of suffering.\\n\\nWe asked this heavenly messenger (as we discovered him afterwards to be)\\nif he knew of any\",\n \"you?â\\n\\nâWhat was the name of that inn?â said Harris.\\n\\nâThe Pig and Whistle,â said George. âWhy?â\\n\\nâAh, no, then it isnât the same,â replied Harris.\\n\\nâWhat do you mean?â queried George.\\n\\nâWhy itâs so curious,â murmured Harris, âbut precisely that very same\\nthing happened to _my\"\n ],\n [\n \"wet night down at\\nAldershot, âon just such another night as this,â said Harris; and he had\\nwoke up in the morning a cripple for life. Harris said he would\\nintroduce us both to the man when we got back to town; it would make our\\nhearts bleed to see him.\\n\\nThis naturally led to some pleasant chat about sciatica, fevers, chills,\\nlung diseases, and bronchitis; and Harris said how very awkward it would\\nbe if one of us were taken seriously ill in the night\",\n \"we were getting quite nervous about it.\\nHarris said he felt such extraordinary fits of giddiness come over him at\\ntimes, that he hardly knew what he was doing; and then George said that\\n_he_ had fits of giddiness too, and hardly knew what _he_ was doing.\\nWith me, it was my liver that was out of order. I knew it was my liver\\nthat was out of order, because I had just been reading a patent\\nliver-pill circular, in which were detailed the various symptoms by which\\na man could tell when his liver was out of\",\n \"Montmorency lodges an\\nobjection.âOriginal motion carried by majority of three to one.\\n\\nThere were four of usâGeorge, and William Samuel Harris, and myself, and\\nMontmorency. We were sitting in my room, smoking, and talking about how\\nbad we wereâbad from a medical point of view I mean, of course.\\n\\nWe were all feeling seedy, and we were getting quite nervous about it.\\nHarris said he felt such extraordinary fits of giddiness come over him at\\ntimes, that he hardly\",\n \"men who, being\\nbehind him, he could not see). That sent us into convulsions. We told\\neach other that it would be the death of us, this thing. The words\\nalone, we said, were enough to send us into fits, but added to his mock\\nseriousnessâoh, it was too much!\\n\\nIn the last verse, he surpassed himself. He glowered round upon us with\\na look of such concentrated ferocity that, but for our being forewarned\\nas to the German method of comic singing, we should\",\n \"weak at the time; because I know, after the first\\nhalf-hour or so, I seemed to take no interest whatever in my foodâan\\nunusual thing for meâand I didnât want any cheese.\\n\\nThis duty done, we refilled our glasses, lit our pipes, and resumed the\\ndiscussion upon our state of health. What it was that was actually the\\nmatter with us, we none of us could be sure of; but the unanimous opinion\\nwas that itâwhatever it wasâhad\",\n \",\\nsuggestive of suffering.\\n\\nWe asked this heavenly messenger (as we discovered him afterwards to be)\\nif he knew of any lonely house, whose occupants were few and feeble (old\\nladies or paralysed gentlemen preferred), who could be easily frightened\\ninto giving up their beds for the night to three desperate men; or, if\\nnot this, could he recommend us to an empty pigstye, or a disused\\nlimekiln, or anything of that sort. He did not know of any such placeâat\\nleast, not\",\n \" George offered to go on and\\ngive us our revenge; but Harris and I decided not to battle any further\\nagainst Fate.\\n\\nAfter that, we mixed ourselves some toddy, and sat round and talked.\\nGeorge told us about a man he had known, who had come up the river two\\nyears ago and who had slept out in a damp boat on just such another night\\nas that was, and it had given him rheumatic fever, and nothing was able\\nto save him, and he had died in great agony ten days afterwards. George\\nsaid\",\n \"I had the\\nsymptoms, beyond all mistake, the chief among them being âa general\\ndisinclination to work of any kind.â\\n\\nWhat I suffer in that way no tongue can tell. From my earliest infancy I\\nhave been a martyr to it. As a boy, the disease hardly ever left me for\\na day. They did not know, then, that it was my liver. Medical science\\nwas in a far less advanced state than now, and they used to put it down\\nto laziness.\\n\\nâWhy,\",\n \"chen said he had sung it once before the\\nGerman Emperor, and he (the German Emperor) had sobbed like a little\\nchild. He (Herr Boschen) said it was generally acknowledged to be one of\\nthe most tragic and pathetic songs in the German language.\\n\\nIt was a trying situation for usâvery trying. There seemed to be no\\nanswer. We looked around for the two young men who had done this thing,\\nbut they had left the house in an unostentatious manner immediately after\\nthe end of the song.\\n\\nThat was\",\n \"beneath you heaves and rocks, and the muffled voice that you heard before\\nreplies from out the ruin:\\n\\nâGet off my head, canât you?â\\n\\nAnd Bill struggles out, a muddy, trampled wreck, and in an unnecessarily\\naggressive moodâhe being under the evident belief that the whole thing\\nhas been done on purpose.\\n\\nIn the morning you are all three speechless, owing to having caught\\nsevere colds in the night; you also feel very quarrelsome, and you swear\",\n \"aroused no enthusiasm within him, but he felt that there was some of that\\ntwo-pound-five to be worked off, and he held on to ropes and things and\\nwent down. A pleasant odour of onions and hot ham, mingled with fried\\nfish and greens, greeted him at the bottom of the ladder; and then the\\nsteward came up with an oily smile, and said:\\n\\nâWhat can I get you, sir?â\\n\\n[Picture: Man feeling ill] âGet me out of this\",\n \"âWhat can I get you, sir?â\\n\\n[Picture: Man feeling ill] âGet me out of this,â was the feeble reply.\\n\\nAnd they ran him up quick, and propped him up, over to leeward, and left\\nhim.\\n\\nFor the next four days he lived a simple and blameless life on thin\\ncaptainâs biscuits (I mean that the biscuits were thin, not the captain)\\nand soda-water; but, towards Saturday, he got uppish,\",\n \"there was any known disease going within ten miles of him, he\\nhad it, and had it badly. He would take bronchitis in the dog-days, and\\nhave hay-fever at Christmas. After a six weeksâ period of drought, he\\nwould be stricken down with rheumatic fever; and he would go out in a\\nNovember fog and come home with a sunstroke.\\n\\nThey put him under laughing-gas one year, poor lad, and drew all his\\nteeth, and gave him a false set, because he suffered so terribly\",\n \"\\nFive minutes afterwards, a third man came in, and described how _he_ had\\ncaught it early one morning, with bleak; and then he left, and a stolid,\\nsolemn-looking, middle-aged individual came in, and sat down over by the\\nwindow.\\n\\nNone of us spoke for a while; but, at length, George turned to the new\\ncomer, and said:\\n\\nâI beg your pardon, I hope you will forgive the liberty that weâperfect\\nstrangers in the neighbourhoodâare taking\",\n \"while, frozen with horror; and then, in the listlessness of\\ndespair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid feverâread the\\nsymptomsâdiscovered that I had typhoid fever, must have had it for months\\nwithout knowing itâwondered what else I had got; turned up St. Vitusâs\\nDanceâfound, as I expected, that I had that too,âbegan to get interested\\nin my case, and determined to sift it to the bottom\",\n \"I.\\n\\n\\nThree invalids.âSufferings of George and Harris.âA victim to one hundred\\nand seven fatal maladies.âUseful prescriptions.âCure for liver complaint\\nin children.âWe agree that we are overworked, and need rest.âA week on\\nthe rolling deep?âGeorge suggests the River.âMontmorency lodges an\\nobjection.âOriginal motion carried by majority of three to one.\\n\\nThere were four of usâ\",\n \"\\n\\nAnd we other boys, who would have sacrificed ten terms of our school-life\\nfor the sake of being ill for a day, and had no desire whatever to give\\nour parents any excuse for being stuck-up about us, couldnât catch so\\nmuch as a stiff neck. We fooled about in draughts, and it did us good,\\nand freshened us up; and we took things to make us sick, and they made us\\nfat, and gave us an appetite. Nothing we could think of seemed to make\\nus ill until the\",\n \", for no one spoke.\\n\\nA grim fraternity, passing grim lives in that sweet spot, that God had\\nmade so bright! Strange that Natureâs voices all around themâthe soft\\nsinging of the waters, the whisperings of the river grass, the music of\\nthe rushing windâshould not have taught them a truer meaning of life than\\nthis. They listened there, through the long days, in silence, waiting\\nfor a voice from heaven; and all day long and through the solemn night it\\nspoke to them in my\",\n \"ll just walk round for ten minutes, and then go\\nand get some lunch.â\\n\\nThey met some people soon after they had got inside, who said they had\\nbeen there for three-quarters of an hour, and had had about enough of it.\\nHarris told them they could follow him, if they liked; he was just going\\nin, and then should turn round and come out again. They said it was very\\nkind of him, and fell behind, and followed.\\n\\nThey picked up various other people who wanted to get it over, as they\\nwent along\",\n \"rheumatic fever, and nothing was able\\nto save him, and he had died in great agony ten days afterwards. George\\nsaid he was quite a young man, and was engaged to be married. He said it\\nwas one of the saddest things he had ever known.\\n\\nAnd that put Harris in mind of a friend of his, who had been in the\\nVolunteers, and who had slept out under canvas one wet night down at\\nAldershot, âon just such another night as this,â said Harris; and he had\\nwo\"\n ],\n [\n \"the last two\\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\\nabout the matter, and also remembers that there was an unusually strong\\nstream against them all the wayâlikewise a stiff wind.\\n\\nâAbout thirty-four miles, I suppose, it must have been,â adds the first\\nspeaker, reaching down another cushion to put under his head.\\n\\nâNoâno; donât exaggerate, Tom,â murmurs Jack, reprovingly\",\n \"balancing myself. You stand in the centre of the deck,\\nand, as the ship heaves and pitches, you move your body about, so as to\\nkeep it always straight. When the front of the ship rises, you lean\\nforward, till the deck almost touches your nose; and when its back end\\ngets up, you lean backwards. This is all very well for an hour or two;\\nbut you canât balance yourself for a week.\\n\\nGeorge said:\\n\\nâLetâs go up the river.â\\n\",\n \", he gets out\\non to the bank, and hides behind a tree.\\n\\nI was one of a party who hired an up-river boat one summer, for a few\\ndaysâ trip. We had none of us ever seen the hired up-river boat before;\\nand we did not know what it was when we did see it.\\n\\nWe had written for a boatâa double sculling skiff; and when we went down\\nwith our bags to the yard, and gave our names, the man said:\\n\\n[Picture: The Pride of the\",\n \"steadily up stream for the last hour and a half; âwhy, Jim Biffles\\nand Jack and I, last season, pulled up from Marlow to Goring in one\\nafternoonânever stopped once. Do you remember that, Jack?â\\n\\nJack, who has made himself a bed up in the prow of all the rugs and coats\\nhe can collect, and who has been lying there asleep for the last two\\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\\nabout the matter, and also remem\",\n \"ful appearance.\\n\\nâI should like to see him pull the wrong line,â murmured George, as they\\npassed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed\\nup the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen\\nsheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars immediately left the boat on\\nthe larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments\\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\\namong boat\",\n \"ns.\\n\\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\\n\\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\\nI would go down in the morning, and take the boat up to Chertsey, and\\nGeorge, who would not be able to get away from the City till the\\nafternoon (George goes to sleep at a bank from ten to four each day,\\nexcept Saturdays, when they wake him up and put him outside at two),\\nwould meet us there.\\n\\nShould we âcamp outâ or sleep at in\",\n \"City, so\\nhe explained. Harris, who is callous in his nature, and not prone to\\npity, said:\\n\\nâAh! and now you are going to have a hard time on the river for a change;\\nchange is good for everyone. Out you get!â\\n\\nHe could not in conscienceânot even Georgeâs conscienceâobject, though he\\ndid suggest that, perhaps, it would be better for him to stop in the\\nboat, and get tea ready, while Harris and I towed, because getting tea\",\n \"ncy] The only one who was not struck with the\\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\\nMontmorency.\\n\\nâItâs all very well for you fellows,â he says; âyou like it, but _I_\\ndonât. Thereâs nothing for me to do. Scenery is not in my line, and I\\ndonât smoke. If I see a rat, you wonât stop; and\",\n \"a mile of distance.\\n\\nOf course, its entrance is studded with posts and chains, and surrounded\\nwith notice boards, menacing all kinds of torture, imprisonment, and\\ndeath to everyone who dares set scull upon its watersâI wonder some of\\nthese riparian boors donât claim the air of the river and threaten\\neveryone with forty shillings fine who breathes itâbut the posts and\\nchains a little skill will easily avoid; and as for the boards, you\\nmight, if you have five minutes to\",\n \" George offered to go on and\\ngive us our revenge; but Harris and I decided not to battle any further\\nagainst Fate.\\n\\nAfter that, we mixed ourselves some toddy, and sat round and talked.\\nGeorge told us about a man he had known, who had come up the river two\\nyears ago and who had slept out in a damp boat on just such another night\\nas that was, and it had given him rheumatic fever, and nothing was able\\nto save him, and he had died in great agony ten days afterwards. George\\nsaid\",\n \"took a âraw\\nâunâ up with us once last season, and we plied him with the customary\\nstretchers about the wonderful things we had done all the way up.\\n\\nWe gave him all the regular onesâthe time-honoured lies that have done\\nduty up the river with every boating-man for years pastâand added seven\\nentirely original ones that we had invented for ourselves, including a\\nreally quite likely story, founded, to a certain extent, on an all but\\ntrue episode, which had\",\n \" In the end, they do get it clear, and then turn round and\\nfind that the boat has drifted off, and is making straight for the weir.\\n\\nThis really happened once to my own knowledge. It was up by Boveney, one\\nrather windy morning. We were pulling down stream, and, as we came round\\nthe bend, we noticed a couple of men on the bank. They were looking at\\neach other with as bewildered and helplessly miserable expression as I\\nhave ever witnessed on any human countenance before or since, and they\\nheld\",\n \", by the\\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\\nbeen sleeping the sleep of the just right on the middle of his chest,\\nsprawling across the boat.\\n\\nThen we pulled up the canvas, and all four of us poked our heads out over\\nthe off-side, and looked down at the water and shivered. The idea,\\novernight, had been that we should get up early in the morning, fling off\\nour rugs and shawls, and, throwing back the canvas, spring into the\",\n \"ulls. After that we proceeded with great\\ncaution, but they were a wretched old pair, and the second one cracked\\nalmost easier than the first, and left us helpless.\\n\\nThe mud stretched out for about a hundred yards in front of us, and\\nbehind us was the water. The only thing to be done was to sit and wait\\nuntil someone came by.\\n\\nIt was not the sort of day to attract people out on the river, and it was\\nthree hours before a soul came in sight. It was an old fisherman who,\\nwith\",\n \"towards us, laughing and talking together in deep\\nguttural bass, a half-a-score of stalwart halbert-menâBaronsâ men,\\ntheseâand halt at a hundred yards or so above us, on the other bank, and\\nlean upon their arms, and wait.\\n\\nAnd so, from hour to hour, march up along the road ever fresh groups and\\nbands of armed men, their casques and breastplates flashing back the long\\nlow lines of morning sunlight, until, as far as eye can reach, the way\\nse\",\n \", told them it was\\njolly fun, boating!\\n\\nThe tide was running out pretty rapidly when they reached the\\nlanding-stage, and there was a stiff breeze blowing across the river, but\\nthis did not trouble them at all, and they proceeded to select their\\nboat.\\n\\nThere was an eight-oared racing outrigger drawn up on the stage; that was\\nthe one that took their fancy. They said theyâd have that one, please.\\nThe boatman was away, and only his boy was in charge. The boy tried to\\nd\",\n \"bath.\\n\\nAgreed, finally, that we should take _three_ bath towels, so as not to\\nkeep each other waiting.\\n\\nFor clothes, George said two suits of flannel would be sufficient, as we\\ncould wash them ourselves, in the river, when they got dirty. We asked\\nhim if he had ever tried washing flannels in the river, and he replied:\\nâNo, not exactly himself like; but he knew some fellows who had, and it\\nwas easy enough;â and Harris and I were weak enough to fancy he knew what\\nhe\",\n \"but the posts and\\nchains a little skill will easily avoid; and as for the boards, you\\nmight, if you have five minutes to spare, and there is nobody about, take\\none or two of them down and throw them into the river.\\n\\nHalf-way up the backwater, we got out and lunched; and it was during this\\nlunch that George and I received rather a trying shock.\\n\\nHarris received a shock, too; but I do not think Harrisâs shock could\\nhave been anything like so bad as the shock that George and I\",\n \"year. There ainât no Wallingford lock now, sir.\\nYouâre close to Cleeve now. Blow me tight if âere ainât a gentleman been\\nlooking for Wallingford lock, Bill!â\\n\\nI had never thought of that. I wanted to fall upon all their necks and\\nbless them; but the stream was running too strong just there to allow of\\nthis, so I had to content myself with mere cold-sounding words of\\ngratitude.\\n\\nWe thanked them over and\",\n \"up to Staines, and we\\nhad taken the boat from there, and it seemed that we were dragging fifty\\ntons after us, and were walking forty miles. It was half-past seven when\\nwe were through, and we all got in, and sculled up close to the left\\nbank, looking out for a spot to haul up in.\\n\\nWe had originally intended to go on to Magna Charta Island, a sweetly\\npretty part of the river, where it winds through a soft, green valley,\\nand to camp in one of the many picturesque inlets to\"\n ],\n [\n \"ston.â\\n\\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, âbut I suppose\\n_some_ trainâs got to go to Kingston; and Iâll do it. Gimme the\\nhalf-crown.â\\n\\nThus we got to Kingston by the London and South-Western Railway.\\n\\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo\",\n \"he was\\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\\nthat he rather thought he was. Anyhow, if he wasnât the 11.5 for\\nKingston, he said he was pretty confident he was the 9.32 for Virginia\\nWater, or the 10 a.m. express for the Isle of Wight, or somewhere in that\\ndirection, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be\",\n \"direction, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be the 11.5 for Kingston.\\n\\nâNobody will ever know, on this line,â we said, âwhat you are, or where\\nyouâre going. You know the way, you slip off quietly and go to\\nKingston.â\\n\\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, â\",\n \"\\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for it,\\nand nobody knew what had become of it.\\n\\nOur boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we\\nwended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we\\nstepped.\\n\\nâAre you all right, sir?â said the man.\\n\\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the\",\n \"the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnât they\\ncouldnât say.\\n\\nThen our porter said he thought that must be it on the high-level\\nplatform; said he thought he knew the train. So we went to the\\nhigh-level platform, and saw the engine-driver, and asked him if he was\\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\\nthat he rather thought he was.\",\n \"about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâs friends,\\nwho had evidently sworn never to forsake him, we drove away amidst the\\ncheers of the crowd, Biggsâs boy shying a carrot after us for luck.\\n\\nWe got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started\\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\\ntrain is going to start from, or where\",\n \",â observed George, casting a glance of intense\\nmalevolence over the boat, âit might be worth while to mention that\\nthereâs a train leaves Pangbourne, I know, soon after five, which would\\njust land us in town in comfortable time to get a chop, and then go on to\\nthe place you mentioned afterwards.â\\n\\nNobody spoke. We looked at one another, and each one seemed to see his\\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\\nsilence, we dragged out and over\",\n \"The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\\nfrom the local.\\n\\nTo put an end to the matter, we went upstairs, and asked the traffic\\nsuperintendent, and he told us that he had just met a man, who said he\\nhad seen it at number three platform. We went to number three platform,\\nbut the authorities there said that they rather thought that train was\\nthe Southampton express, or else the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnâ\",\n \"this lumbering old top-heavy\\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\\nGeorge come and do some work? Why couldnât he have got the day off, and\\ncome down with us? Bank be blowed! What good was he at the bank?\\n\\nâI never see him doing any work there,â continued Harris, âwhenever I go\\nin. He sits behind a bit of glass all day, trying to look as if he was\\ndoing something.\",\n \"and each one seemed to see his\\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\\nsilence, we dragged out and overhauled the Gladstone. We looked up the\\nriver and down the river; not a soul was in sight!\\n\\nTwenty minutes later, three figures, followed by a shamed-looking dog,\\nmight have been seen creeping stealthily from the boat-house at the\\nâSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\\nnor gaudy costume:\\n\\nBlack leather shoes,\",\n \"42âs a-moving.â\\n\\nThe grocerâs boy came across, and took up a position on the other side of\\nthe step. Then the young gentleman from the boot-shop stopped, and\\njoined Biggsâs boy; while the empty-can superintendent from âThe Blue\\nPostsâ took up an independent position on the curb.\\n\\nâThey ainât a-going to starve, are they?â said the gentleman from the\\nboot-\",\n \"CHAPTER II.\\n\\n\\nPlans discussed.âPleasures of âcamping-out,â on fine nights.âDitto, wet\\nnights.âCompromise decided on.âMontmorency, first impressions of.âFears\\nlest he is too good for this world, fears subsequently dismissed as\\ngroundless.âMeeting adjourns.\\n\\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\\n\\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\\n\",\n \".\\n\\nIt was a glorious morning, late spring or early summer, as you care to\\ntake it, when the dainty sheen of grass and leaf is blushing to a deeper\\ngreen; and the year seems like a fair young maid, trembling with strange,\\nwakening pulses on the brink of womanhood.\\n\\nThe quaint back streets of Kingston, where they came down to the waterâs\\nedge, looked quite picturesque in the flashing sunlight, the glinting\\nriver with its drifting barges, the wooded towpath, the\",\n \"That amused Harris.\\n\\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\\nhalf-an-hour of it would kill him. Have you ever seen George work?â he\\nadded, turning to me.\\n\\nI agreed with Harris that I never hadâmost certainly not since we had\\nstarted on this trip.\\n\\nâWell, I donât see how _you_ can know much about it, one way or the\\nother,â George retorted on Harris; â\",\n \"long day.\\n\\nThe order of the procession was as follows:â\\n\\n Montmorency, carrying a stick.\\n Two disreputable-looking curs, friends of Montmorencyâs.\\n George, carrying coats and rugs, and smoking a short pipe.\\n Harris, trying to walk with easy grace,\\n while carrying a bulged-out Gladstone bag in one hand\\n and a bottle of lime-juice in the other.\\n Greengrocerâs boy and bakerâ\",\n \"and he has\\nslid and wriggled in vain. Far down the road a little cloud of dust has\\nrisen, and draws nearer and grows larger, and the pattering of many hoofs\\ngrows louder, and in and out between the scattered groups of drawn-up\\nmen, there pushes on its way a brilliant cavalcade of gay-dressed lords\\nand knights. And front and rear, and either flank, there ride the yeomen\\nof the Barons, and in the midst King John.\\n\\nHe rides to where the barges\",\n \"had been very little good\\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\\n\\nâWell, hang it all, Iâve done more than old J., anyhow,â rejoined Harris.\\n\\nâWell, you couldnât very well have done less,â added George.\\n\\nâI suppose J. thinks he is the passenger,â continued Harris.\\n\\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston,\",\n \"all right, sir?â said the man.\\n\\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the sculls and I at the\\ntiller-lines, and Montmorency, unhappy and deeply suspicious, in the\\nprow, out we shot on to the waters which, for a fortnight, were to be our\\nhome.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER VI.\\n\\n\\nKingston.âInstructive remarks on early English history.âInstructive\\nobservations on carved oak and life in general.â\",\n \"ourselves; and he laughed pleasantly, and said that some\\npeople made such a fuss over a little thing. But even he grew strangely\\ndepressed after we had started, and so, when we reached Crewe, I asked\\nhim to come and have a drink. He accepted, and we forced our way into\\nthe buffet, where we yelled, and stamped, and waved our umbrellas for a\\nquarter of an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted\\nanything.\\n\\nâWhatâs yours?\",\n \"the bank, and one and a half moments\\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\\namong boat-hooks and sails and carpet-bags and bottles. The last man\\nwent on twenty yards further, and then got out on his head.\\n\\nThis seemed to sort of lighten the boat, and it went on much easier, the\\nsmall boy shouting at the top of his voice, and urging his steed into a\\ngallop. The fellows sat up and stared at one another. It was some\\nseconds before\"\n ],\n [\n \"about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâs friends,\\nwho had evidently sworn never to forsake him, we drove away amidst the\\ncheers of the crowd, Biggsâs boy shying a carrot after us for luck.\\n\\nWe got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started\\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\\ntrain is going to start from, or where\",\n \"The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\\nfrom the local.\\n\\nTo put an end to the matter, we went upstairs, and asked the traffic\\nsuperintendent, and he told us that he had just met a man, who said he\\nhad seen it at number three platform. We went to number three platform,\\nbut the authorities there said that they rather thought that train was\\nthe Southampton express, or else the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnâ\",\n \"ston.â\\n\\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, âbut I suppose\\n_some_ trainâs got to go to Kingston; and Iâll do it. Gimme the\\nhalf-crown.â\\n\\nThus we got to Kingston by the London and South-Western Railway.\\n\\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo\",\n \"he was\\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\\nthat he rather thought he was. Anyhow, if he wasnât the 11.5 for\\nKingston, he said he was pretty confident he was the 9.32 for Virginia\\nWater, or the 10 a.m. express for the Isle of Wight, or somewhere in that\\ndirection, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be\",\n \"-five started\\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\\ntrain is going to start from, or where a train when it does start is\\ngoing to, or anything about it. The porter who took our things thought\\nit would go from number two platform, while another porter, with whom he\\ndiscussed the question, had heard a rumour that it would go from number\\none. The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\\nfrom the local.\\n\\nTo put an end to the matter, we went\",\n \"the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnât they\\ncouldnât say.\\n\\nThen our porter said he thought that must be it on the high-level\\nplatform; said he thought he knew the train. So we went to the\\nhigh-level platform, and saw the engine-driver, and asked him if he was\\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\\nthat he rather thought he was.\",\n \"\\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for it,\\nand nobody knew what had become of it.\\n\\nOur boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we\\nwended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we\\nstepped.\\n\\nâAre you all right, sir?â said the man.\\n\\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the\",\n \"and each one seemed to see his\\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\\nsilence, we dragged out and overhauled the Gladstone. We looked up the\\nriver and down the river; not a soul was in sight!\\n\\nTwenty minutes later, three figures, followed by a shamed-looking dog,\\nmight have been seen creeping stealthily from the boat-house at the\\nâSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\\nnor gaudy costume:\\n\\nBlack leather shoes,\",\n \",â observed George, casting a glance of intense\\nmalevolence over the boat, âit might be worth while to mention that\\nthereâs a train leaves Pangbourne, I know, soon after five, which would\\njust land us in town in comfortable time to get a chop, and then go on to\\nthe place you mentioned afterwards.â\\n\\nNobody spoke. We looked at one another, and each one seemed to see his\\nown mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others. In\\nsilence, we dragged out and over\",\n \"ourselves; and he laughed pleasantly, and said that some\\npeople made such a fuss over a little thing. But even he grew strangely\\ndepressed after we had started, and so, when we reached Crewe, I asked\\nhim to come and have a drink. He accepted, and we forced our way into\\nthe buffet, where we yelled, and stamped, and waved our umbrellas for a\\nquarter of an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted\\nanything.\\n\\nâWhatâs yours?\",\n \"direction, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be the 11.5 for Kingston.\\n\\nâNobody will ever know, on this line,â we said, âwhat you are, or where\\nyouâre going. You know the way, you slip off quietly and go to\\nKingston.â\\n\\nâWell, I donât know, gents,â replied the noble fellow, â\",\n \"âSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\\nnor gaudy costume:\\n\\nBlack leather shoes, dirty; suit of boating flannels, very dirty; brown\\nfelt hat, much battered; mackintosh, very wet; umbrella.\\n\\nWe had deceived the boatman at Pangbourne. We had not had the face to\\ntell him that we were running away from the rain. We had left the boat,\\nand all it contained, in his charge, with instructions that it was to be\\nready for\",\n \"\\nstop where they were, and he would come to them. They huddled together,\\nand waited; and he climbed down, and came in.\\n\\nHe was a young keeper, as luck would have it, and new to the business;\\nand when he got in, he couldnât find them, and he wandered about, trying\\nto get to them, and then _he_ got lost. They caught sight of him, every\\nnow and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see\\nthem, and rush to get to them\",\n \"sniffing, and, at the third sniff, they caught\\nit right on the chest, and rose up without another word and went out.\\nAnd then a stout lady got up, and said it was disgraceful that a\\nrespectable married woman should be harried about in this way, and\\ngathered up a bag and eight parcels and went. The remaining four\\npassengers sat on for a while, until a solemn-looking man in the corner,\\nwho, from his dress and general appearance, seemed to belong to the\\nundertaker class, said it put him in\",\n \"42âs a-moving.â\\n\\nThe grocerâs boy came across, and took up a position on the other side of\\nthe step. Then the young gentleman from the boot-shop stopped, and\\njoined Biggsâs boy; while the empty-can superintendent from âThe Blue\\nPostsâ took up an independent position on the curb.\\n\\nâThey ainât a-going to starve, are they?â said the gentleman from the\\nboot-\",\n \"miles an hour. The wind still blew in his direction, and\\nbefore we reached the end of the street he was laying himself out at the\\nrate of nearly four miles an hour, leaving the cripples and stout old\\nladies simply nowhere.\\n\\nIt took two porters as well as the driver to hold him in at the station;\\nand I do not think they would have done it, even then, had not one of the\\nmen had the presence of mind to put a handkerchief over his nose, and to\\nlight a bit of brown paper.\\n\\nI took my ticket\",\n \"ful appearance.\\n\\nâI should like to see him pull the wrong line,â murmured George, as they\\npassed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed\\nup the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen\\nsheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars immediately left the boat on\\nthe larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments\\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\\namong boat\",\n \"and begin again. For the beginning again part\\nof it there was not much enthusiasm; but with regard to the advisability\\nof going back to the entrance there was complete unanimity, and so they\\nturned, and trailed after Harris again, in the opposite direction. About\\nten minutes more passed, and then they found themselves in the centre.\\n\\nHarris thought at first of pretending that that was what he had been\\naiming at; but the crowd looked dangerous, and he decided to treat it as\\nan accident.\\n\\nAnyhow, they had got something to start from\",\n \"get in here,â they would shout. And they\\nwould run along, carrying heavy bags, and fight round the door to get in\\nfirst. And one would open the door and mount the steps, and stagger back\\ninto the arms of the man behind him; and they would all come and have a\\nsniff, and then droop off and squeeze into other carriages, or pay the\\ndifference and go first.\\n\\nFrom Euston, I took the cheeses down to my friendâs house. When his wife\\ncame into the room\",\n \"the bank, and one and a half moments\\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\\namong boat-hooks and sails and carpet-bags and bottles. The last man\\nwent on twenty yards further, and then got out on his head.\\n\\nThis seemed to sort of lighten the boat, and it went on much easier, the\\nsmall boy shouting at the top of his voice, and urging his steed into a\\ngallop. The fellows sat up and stared at one another. It was some\\nseconds before\"\n ],\n [\n \"this lumbering old top-heavy\\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\\nGeorge come and do some work? Why couldnât he have got the day off, and\\ncome down with us? Bank be blowed! What good was he at the bank?\\n\\nâI never see him doing any work there,â continued Harris, âwhenever I go\\nin. He sits behind a bit of glass all day, trying to look as if he was\\ndoing something.\",\n \"but the posts and\\nchains a little skill will easily avoid; and as for the boards, you\\nmight, if you have five minutes to spare, and there is nobody about, take\\none or two of them down and throw them into the river.\\n\\nHalf-way up the backwater, we got out and lunched; and it was during this\\nlunch that George and I received rather a trying shock.\\n\\nHarris received a shock, too; but I do not think Harrisâs shock could\\nhave been anything like so bad as the shock that George and I\",\n \"t think George ought to do anything that would have a\\ntendency to make him sleepier than he always was, as it might be\\ndangerous. He said he didnât very well understand how George was going\\nto sleep any more than he did now, seeing that there were only\\ntwenty-four hours in each day, summer and winter alike; but thought that\\nif he _did_ sleep any more, he might just as well be dead, and so save\\nhis board and lodging.\\n\\nHarris said, however, that the river would suit him to\",\n \"the morning that I should bring\\nthe boat up to three miles above Reading. Well, here we were, ten miles\\nabove Reading! Surely it was now their turn again.\\n\\nI could not get either George or Harris to see the matter in its proper\\nlight, however; so, to save argument, I took the sculls. I had not been\\npulling for more than a minute or so, when George noticed something black\\nfloating on the water, and we drew up to it. George leant over, as we\\nneared it, and laid hold of\",\n \"and said, wildly:\\n\\nâOh, Henry, then _where_ is auntie?â\\n\\nâDid they ever recover the old lady?â asked Harris.\\n\\nGeorge replied he did not know.\\n\\nAnother example of the dangerous want of sympathy between tower and towed\\nwas witnessed by George and myself once up near Walton. It was where the\\ntow-path shelves gently down into the water, and we were camping on the\\nopposite bank, noticing things in general. By-and-by a small boat\",\n \"get aground; everyone on board of it would\\nrush to the bow and yell at us, and the people on the bank would stand\\nand shout to us, and all the other passing boats would stop and join in,\\ntill the whole river for miles up and down was in a state of frantic\\ncommotion. And then Harris would break off in the most interesting part\\nof his narrative, and look up with mild surprise, and say to George:\\n\\nâWhy, George, bless me, if here isnât a steam launch!â\\n\\nAnd\",\n \"had been very little good\\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\\n\\nâWell, hang it all, Iâve done more than old J., anyhow,â rejoined Harris.\\n\\nâWell, you couldnât very well have done less,â added George.\\n\\nâI suppose J. thinks he is the passenger,â continued Harris.\\n\\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston,\",\n \"him. George, on the other hand, ridiculed the idea of\\nHarrisâs having done anything more than eat and sleep, and had a\\ncast-iron opinion that it was heâGeorge himselfâwho had done all the\\nlabour worth speaking of.\\n\\nHe said he had never been out with such a couple of lazily skulks as\\nHarris and I.\\n\\nThat amused Harris.\\n\\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\\nhalf\",\n \"City, so\\nhe explained. Harris, who is callous in his nature, and not prone to\\npity, said:\\n\\nâAh! and now you are going to have a hard time on the river for a change;\\nchange is good for everyone. Out you get!â\\n\\nHe could not in conscienceânot even Georgeâs conscienceâobject, though he\\ndid suggest that, perhaps, it would be better for him to stop in the\\nboat, and get tea ready, while Harris and I towed, because getting tea\",\n \"ful appearance.\\n\\nâI should like to see him pull the wrong line,â murmured George, as they\\npassed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed\\nup the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen\\nsheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars immediately left the boat on\\nthe larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments\\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\\namong boat\",\n \"continued Harris.\\n\\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston, and for having\\nsuperintended and managed everything for them, and taken care of them,\\nand slaved for them. It is the way of the world.\\n\\nWe settled the present difficulty by arranging that Harris and George\\nshould scull up past Reading, and that I should tow the boat on from\\nthere. Pulling a heavy boat against a strong stream has few attractions\\nfor me now. There was a time, long ago\",\n \"it, and it choked him,\\nand he died.\\n\\nAfter you pass Old Windsor, the river is somewhat uninteresting, and does\\nnot become itself again until you are nearing Boveney. George and I\\ntowed up past the Home Park, which stretches along the right bank from\\nAlbert to Victoria Bridge; and as we were passing Datchet, George asked\\nme if I remembered our first trip up the river, and when we landed at\\nDatchet at ten oâclock at night, and wanted to go to bed.\\n\\nI answered that I did\",\n \"ât see how _you_ can know much about it, one way or the\\nother,â George retorted on Harris; âfor Iâm blest if you havenât been\\nasleep half the time. Have you ever seen Harris fully awake, except at\\nmeal-time?â asked George, addressing me.\\n\\nTruth compelled me to support George. Harris had been very little good\\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\\n\\nâWell, hang it all,\",\n \"said he\\nwouldnât have joined if it hadnât been for the idea of seeing Mrs.\\nThomasâs tomb.\\n\\nI reminded him of George, and how we had to get the boat up to Shepperton\\nby five oâclock to meet him, and then he went for George. Why was George\\nto fool about all day, and leave us to lug this lumbering old top-heavy\\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\\nGe\",\n \"steadily up stream for the last hour and a half; âwhy, Jim Biffles\\nand Jack and I, last season, pulled up from Marlow to Goring in one\\nafternoonânever stopped once. Do you remember that, Jack?â\\n\\nJack, who has made himself a bed up in the prow of all the rugs and coats\\nhe can collect, and who has been lying there asleep for the last two\\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\\nabout the matter, and also remem\",\n \"ash, and I was out mid-stream with a gallon of\\nThames water inside me before I knew what had happened.\\n\\nâBy Jove! old J.âs gone in,â I heard Harris say, as I came blowing to the\\nsurface. âI didnât think heâd have the pluck to do it. Did you?â\\n\\nâIs it all right?â sung out George.\\n\\nâLovely,â I spluttered back\",\n \"\\nWe had been sitting huddled up in our rugs while George had been telling\\nme this true story, and on his finishing it I set to work to wake up\\nHarris with a scull. The third prod did it: and he turned over on the\\nother side, and said he would be down in a minute, and that he would have\\nhis lace-up boots. We soon let him know where he was, however, by the\\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\\nbeen sleeping the sleep of\",\n \" George offered to go on and\\ngive us our revenge; but Harris and I decided not to battle any further\\nagainst Fate.\\n\\nAfter that, we mixed ourselves some toddy, and sat round and talked.\\nGeorge told us about a man he had known, who had come up the river two\\nyears ago and who had slept out in a damp boat on just such another night\\nas that was, and it had given him rheumatic fever, and nothing was able\\nto save him, and he had died in great agony ten days afterwards. George\\nsaid\",\n \"George and Harris again\\nshirk their work.âRather a hackneyed story.âStreatley and Goring.\\n\\nWe came in sight of Reading about eleven. The river is dirty and dismal\\nhere. One does not linger in the neighbourhood of Reading. The town\\nitself is a famous old place, dating from the dim days of King Ethelred,\\nwhen the Danes anchored their warships in the Kennet, and started from\\nReading to ravage all the land of Wessex; and here Ethel\",\n \"Harrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\\nfamily-man puts up a picture.âGeorge makes a sensible, remark.âDelights\\nof early morning bathing.âProvisions for getting upset.\\n\\nSo, on the following evening, we again assembled, to discuss and arrange\\nour plans. Harris said:\\n\\nâNow, the first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery\"\n ],\n [\n \"strong mind, it only gave him fits; but a person of mere average\\nintellect it usually sent mad.\\n\\nThere is, it must be confessed, something very sad about the early\\nefforts of an amateur in bagpipes. I have felt that myself when\\nlistening to my young friend. They appear to be a trying instrument to\\nperform upon. You have to get enough breath for the whole tune before\\nyou startâat least, so I gathered from watching Jefferson.\\n\\nHe would begin magnificently with a wild, full, come-to-the-battle\",\n \"at least, so I gathered from watching Jefferson.\\n\\nHe would begin magnificently with a wild, full, come-to-the-battle sort\\nof a note, that quite roused you. But he would get more and more piano\\nas he went on, and the last verse generally collapsed in the middle with\\na splutter and a hiss.\\n\\nYou want to be in good health to play the bagpipes.\\n\\nYoung Jefferson only learnt to play one tune on those bagpipes; but I\\nnever heard any complaints about the insufficiency of his re\",\n \"\\nYoung Jefferson only learnt to play one tune on those bagpipes; but I\\nnever heard any complaints about the insufficiency of his repertoireânone\\nwhatever. This tune was âThe Campbells are Coming, HoorayâHooray!â so he\\nsaid, though his father always held that it was âThe Blue Bells of\\nScotland.â Nobody seemed quite sure what it was exactly, but they all\\nagreed that it sounded Scotch.\\n\\nStrangers were allowed\",\n \"Montmorency and the tea-kettle.âGeorgeâs\\n banjo studies.âMeet with discouragement.âDifficulties in the way of\\n the musical amateur.âLearning to play the bagpipes.âHarris feels sad\\n after supper.âGeorge and I go for a walk.âReturn hungry and\\n wet.âThere is a strangeness about Harris.âHarris and the swans, a\\n remarkable story\",\n \"and made him take the machine\\ndown there when he wanted to work it; and sometimes a visitor would come\\nto the house who knew nothing of the matter, and they would forget to\\ntell him all about it, and caution him, and he would go out for a stroll\\nround the garden and suddenly get within earshot of those bagpipes,\\nwithout being prepared for it, or knowing what it was. If he were a man\\nof strong mind, it only gave him fits; but a person of mere average\\nintellect it usually sent mad.\\n\\nThere is, it must be conf\",\n \"heartening work learning a musical instrument. You would\\nthink that Society, for its own sake, would do all it could to assist a\\nman to acquire the art of playing a musical instrument. But it doesnât!\\n\\nI knew a young fellow once, who was studying to play the bagpipes, and\\nyou would be surprised at the amount of opposition he had to contend\\nwith. Why, not even from the members of his own family did he receive\\nwhat you could call active encouragement. His father was dead against\\nthe business from the beginning, and spoke quite\",\n \"\\nI will say for George that he did not want any pressing. There was no\\nnonsense about having left his music at home, or anything of that sort.\\nHe at once fished out his instrument, and commenced to play âTwo Lovely\\nBlack Eyes.â\\n\\nI had always regarded âTwo Lovely Black Eyesâ as rather a commonplace\\ntune until that evening. The rich vein of sadness that George extracted\\nfrom it quite surprised me.\\n\\nThe desire that grew upon Harris and myself, as the mourn\",\n \"could have sounded. Heavenly melody, in our then state of mind, would\\nonly have still further harrowed us. A soul-moving harmony, correctly\\nperformed, we should have taken as a spirit-warning, and have given up\\nall hope. But about the strains of âHeâs got âem on,â jerked\\nspasmodically, and with involuntary variations, out of a wheezy\\naccordion, there was something singularly human and reassuring.\\n\\nThe sweet sounds drew nearer\",\n \"river, to get a little practice, but it\\nwas never a success. Harrisâs language used to be enough to unnerve any\\nman; added to which, Montmorency would sit and howl steadily, right\\nthrough the performance. It was not giving the man a fair chance.\\n\\nâWhatâs he want to howl like that for when Iâm playing?â George would\\nexclaim indignantly, while taking aim at him with a boot.\\n\\nâWhat do you want to play like that\",\n \" George would\\nexclaim indignantly, while taking aim at him with a boot.\\n\\nâWhat do you want to play like that for when he is howling?â Harris would\\nretort, catching the boot. âYou let him alone. He canât help howling.\\nHeâs got a musical ear, and your playing _makes_ him howl.â\\n\\nSo George determined to postpone study of the banjo until he reached\\nhome. But he did not get much opportunity even there.\",\n \"\\nlike that.\\n\\nSo he sat up at night instead, and played after the family had gone to\\nbed, but that did not do, as it got the house such a bad name. People,\\ngoing home late, would stop outside to listen, and then put it about all\\nover the town, the next morning, that a fearful murder had been committed\\nat Mr. Jeffersonâs the night before; and would describe how they had\\nheard the victimâs shrieks and the brutal oaths and curses of the\\nmurderer, followed by\",\n \"sters brag away for a while, and then, during a momentary lull, he\\nremoves the pipe from his mouth, and remarks, as he knocks the ashes out\\nagainst the bars:\\n\\nâWell, I had a haul on Tuesday evening that itâs not much good my telling\\nanybody about.â\\n\\nâOh! whyâs that?â they ask.\\n\\nâBecause I donât expect anybody would believe me if I did,â replies the\\nold fellow\",\n \"Harris_, _seizing what he considers to be a\\nfavourable opening in the music_, _begins_.]\\n\\nHARRIS:\\n\\n ââWhen I was young and called to the Bar.ââ\\n\\n[_General roar of laughter_, _taken by Harris as a compliment_.\\n_Pianist_, _thinking of his wife and family_, _gives up the unequal\\ncontest and retires_; _his place being taken by a stronger-nerved man_.\\n\\nTHE NEW PIANIST (_che\",\n \"music often\\nsoothed the nerves and took away a headache; and he twanged two or three\\nnotes, just to show Harris what it was like.\\n\\nHarris said he would rather have the headache.\\n\\nGeorge has never learned to play the banjo to this day. He has had too\\nmuch all-round discouragement to meet. He tried on two or three\\nevenings, while we were up the river, to get a little practice, but it\\nwas never a success. Harrisâs language used to be enough to unnerve any\",\n \"ought of hobgoblins and banshees, and will-oâ-the-wisps, and those\\nwicked girls who sit up all night on rocks, and lure people into\\nwhirl-pools and things; and I wished I had been a better man, and knew\\nmore hymns; and in the middle of these reflections I heard the blessed\\nstrains of âHeâs got âem on,â played, badly, on a concertina, and knew\\nthat we were saved.\\n\\nI\",\n \".â Nobody seemed quite sure what it was exactly, but they all\\nagreed that it sounded Scotch.\\n\\nStrangers were allowed three guesses, and most of them guessed a\\ndifferent tune each time.\\n\\nHarris was disagreeable after supper,âI think it must have been the stew\\nthat had upset him: he is not used to high living,âso George and I left\\nhim in the boat, and settled to go for a mouch round Henley. He said he\\nshould have a glass of whisky and a pipe\",\n \"\\n\\nSo George determined to postpone study of the banjo until he reached\\nhome. But he did not get much opportunity even there. Mrs. P. used to\\ncome up and say she was very sorryâfor herself, she liked to hear himâbut\\nthe lady upstairs was in a very delicate state, and the doctor was afraid\\nit might injure the child.\\n\\nThen George tried taking it out with him late at night, and practising\\nround the square. But the inhabitants complained to the police about it,\\nand a watch was set for him\",\n \"had\\nheard the victimâs shrieks and the brutal oaths and curses of the\\nmurderer, followed by the prayer for mercy, and the last dying gurgle of\\nthe corpse.\\n\\nSo they let him practise in the day-time, in the back-kitchen with all\\nthe doors shut; but his more successful passages could generally be heard\\nin the sitting-room, in spite of these precautions, and would affect his\\nmother almost to tears.\\n\\nShe said it put her in mind of her poor father (he had\",\n \"all the rage this season; everybody has got them up the river.\\nItâs a banjo.â\\n\\nâI never knew you played the banjo!â cried Harris and I, in one breath.\\n\\nâNot exactly,â replied George: âbut itâs very easy, they tell me; and\\nIâve got the instruction book!â\\n\\n [Picture: George and the banjo]\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER IX.\\n\\n\\nGeorge is introduced\",\n \"the unequal\\ncontest and retires_; _his place being taken by a stronger-nerved man_.\\n\\nTHE NEW PIANIST (_cheerily_): âNow then, old man, you start off, and Iâll\\nfollow. We wonât bother about any prelude.â\\n\\nHARRIS (_upon whom the explanation of matters has slowly\\ndawnedâlaughing_): âBy Jove! I beg your pardon. Of courseâIâve\"\n ],\n [\n \", and then you will come to the Stag.â\\n\\nWe said:\\n\\nâOh, we had been there, and didnât like itâno honeysuckle over it.â\\n\\nâWell, then,â he said, âthereâs the Manor House, just opposite. Have you\\ntried that?â\\n\\nHarris replied that we did not want to go thereâdidnât like the looks of\\na man who was\",\n \"Change\\nof scene, and absence of the necessity for thought, will restore the\\nmental equilibrium.â\\n\\nGeorge has a cousin, who is usually described in the charge-sheet as a\\nmedical student, so that he naturally has a somewhat family-physicianary\\nway of putting things.\\n\\nI agreed with George, and suggested that we should seek out some retired\\nand old-world spot, far from the madding crowd, and dream away a sunny\\nweek among its drowsy lanesâsome half-forgotten nook, hidden away by the\\n\",\n \"umpy. He said he knew the sort of\\nplace I meant; where everybody went to bed at eight oâclock, and you\\ncouldnât get a _Referee_ for love or money, and had to walk ten miles to\\nget your baccy.\\n\\nâNo,â said Harris, âif you want rest and change, you canât beat a sea\\ntrip.â\\n\\nI objected to the sea trip strongly. A sea trip does you good when you\\nare going to have a couple\",\n \"away from the world,\\nwith its sin and temptation, leading sober, peaceful lives, and doing\\ngood. I said it was the sort of thing I had often longed for myself; and\\nwe discussed the possibility of our going away, we four, to some handy,\\nwell-fitted desert island, and living there in the woods.\\n\\nHarris said that the danger about desert islands, as far as he had heard,\\nwas that they were so damp: but George said no, not if properly drained.\\n\\nAnd then we got on to drains, and that put George\",\n \"us, we none of us could be sure of; but the unanimous opinion\\nwas that itâwhatever it wasâhad been brought on by overwork.\\n\\nâWhat we want is rest,â said Harris.\\n\\nâRest and a complete change,â said George. âThe overstrain upon our\\nbrains has produced a general depression throughout the system. Change\\nof scene, and absence of the necessity for thought, will restore the\\nmental equilibrium.â\\n\\nGeorge has a cousin,\",\n \"for this sort of thing, and make\\npeople keep to it?â you mutter; and you rush back to the hall and get\\nyour umbrella and go out.\\n\\nIt must have been much like this when that foolish boy Henry VIII. was\\ncourting his little Anne. People in Buckinghamshire would have come upon\\nthem unexpectedly when they were mooning round Windsor and Wraysbury, and\\nhave exclaimed, âOh! you here!â and Henry would have blushed and said,\\nâYes; heâ\",\n \"CHAPTER II.\\n\\n\\nPlans discussed.âPleasures of âcamping-out,â on fine nights.âDitto, wet\\nnights.âCompromise decided on.âMontmorency, first impressions of.âFears\\nlest he is too good for this world, fears subsequently dismissed as\\ngroundless.âMeeting adjourns.\\n\\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\\n\\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\\n\",\n \", we could go and see that\\ntomb. I donât believe heâs at the bank at all. Heâs larking about\\nsomewhere, thatâs what heâs doing, leaving us to do all the work. Iâm\\ngoing to get out, and have a drink.â\\n\\nI pointed out to him that we were miles away from a pub.; and then he\\nwent on about the river, and what was the good of the river, and was\\neveryone who came\",\n \"liked, and have some people made to put in. For his part, he\\nwas going back to the Stag.\\n\\nThe greatest minds never realise their ideals in any matter; and Harris\\nand I sighed over the hollowness of all earthly desires, and followed\\nGeorge.\\n\\nWe took our traps into the Stag, and laid them down in the hall.\\n\\nThe landlord came up and said:\\n\\nâGood evening, gentlemen.â\\n\\nâOh, good evening,â said George; âwe\",\n \"â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\\n\\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\\nput it straight.\\n\\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\\nHarr\",\n \"Visitors said they had never noticed before how strong the\\nair was, and weak-chested and consumptive people used to throng there for\\nyears afterwards.\\n\\nFond as I am of cheese, therefore, I hold that George was right in\\ndeclining to take any.\\n\\nâWe shanât want any tea,â said George (Harrisâs face fell at this); âbut\\nweâll have a good round, square, slap-up meal at sevenâdinner, tea,\",\n \"said he\\nwouldnât have joined if it hadnât been for the idea of seeing Mrs.\\nThomasâs tomb.\\n\\nI reminded him of George, and how we had to get the boat up to Shepperton\\nby five oâclock to meet him, and then he went for George. Why was George\\nto fool about all day, and leave us to lug this lumbering old top-heavy\\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\\nGe\",\n \"ncy] The only one who was not struck with the\\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\\nMontmorency.\\n\\nâItâs all very well for you fellows,â he says; âyou like it, but _I_\\ndonât. Thereâs nothing for me to do. Scenery is not in my line, and I\\ndonât smoke. If I see a rat, you wonât stop; and\",\n \"up the river. It stands on\\nthe right of the bridge, quite away from the village. Its low-pitched\\ngables and thatched roof and latticed windows give it quite a story-book\\nappearance, while inside it is even still more once-upon-a-timeyfied.\\n\\nIt would not be a good place for the heroine of a modern novel to stay\\nat. The heroine of a modern novel is always âdivinely tall,â and she is\\never âdrawing herself up to her full height.\",\n \"at\\nSkiplake and Henley would be crammed; and we could not go round, knocking\\nup cottagers and householders in the middle of the night, to know if they\\nlet apartments! George suggested walking back to Henley and assaulting a\\npoliceman, and so getting a nightâs lodging in the station-house. But\\nthen there was the thought, âSuppose he only hits us back and refuses to\\nlock us up!â\\n\\nWe could not pass the whole night fighting policemen. Besides, we\",\n \"snatched up long ago.\\n\\nDid she know of any place in the whole village where we could get shelter\\nfor the night?\\n\\nâWell, if we didnât mind roughing itâshe did not recommend it, mindâbut\\nthere was a little beershop half a mile down the Eton roadââ\\n\\nWe waited to hear no more; we caught up the hamper and the bags, and the\\ncoats and rugs, and parcels, and ran. The distance seemed more like a\\nmile than half\",\n \"and dream away a sunny\\nweek among its drowsy lanesâsome half-forgotten nook, hidden away by the\\nfairies, out of reach of the noisy worldâsome quaint-perched eyrie on the\\ncliffs of Time, from whence the surging waves of the nineteenth century\\nwould sound far-off and faint.\\n\\nHarris said he thought it would be humpy. He said he knew the sort of\\nplace I meant; where everybody went to bed at eight oâclock, and you\\ncould\",\n \"themselves, and try and protect\\nthemselves with their lace parasols.\\n\\nAt lunch they had a very bad time of it. People wanted them to sit on\\nthe grass, and the grass was dusty; and the tree-trunks, against which\\nthey were invited to lean, did not appear to have been brushed for weeks;\\nso they spread their handkerchiefs on the ground and sat on those, bolt\\nupright. Somebody, in walking about with a plate of beef-steak pie,\\ntripped up over a root, and sent the pie flying\",\n \"you are all three speechless, owing to having caught\\nsevere colds in the night; you also feel very quarrelsome, and you swear\\nat each other in hoarse whispers during the whole of breakfast time.\\n\\nWe therefore decided that we would sleep out on fine nights; and hotel\\nit, and inn it, and pub. it, like respectable folks, when it was wet, or\\nwhen we felt inclined for a change.\\n\\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy;\",\n \"it.\\n\\nThe people at the Manor House did not wait to hear us talk. The landlady\\nmet us on the doorstep with the greeting that we were the fourteenth\\nparty she had turned away within the last hour and a half. As for our\\nmeek suggestions of stables, billiard-room, or coal-cellars, she laughed\\nthem all to scorn: all these nooks had been snatched up long ago.\\n\\nDid she know of any place in the whole village where we could get shelter\\nfor the night?\\n\\nâ\"\n ],\n [\n \"â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\\n\\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\\nput it straight.\\n\\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\\nHarr\",\n \"rip.â\\n\\nI objected to the sea trip strongly. A sea trip does you good when you\\nare going to have a couple of months of it, but, for a week, it is\\nwicked.\\n\\nYou start on Monday with the idea implanted in your bosom that you are\\ngoing to enjoy yourself. You wave an airy adieu to the boys on shore,\\nlight your biggest pipe, and swagger about the deck as if you were\\nCaptain Cook, Sir Francis Drake, and Christopher Columbus all rolled into\\none. On Tuesday, you\",\n \"\\nâSea-side!â said my brother-in-law, pressing the ticket affectionately\\ninto his hand; âwhy, youâll have enough to last you a lifetime; and as\\nfor exercise! why, youâll get more exercise, sitting down on that ship,\\nthan you would turning somersaults on dry land.â\\n\\nHe himselfâmy brother-in-lawâcame back by train. He said the\\nNorth-Western Railway was healthy enough for him.\\n\\n\",\n \"ed people ask you how you feel now. On Sunday, you\\nbegin to walk about again, and take solid food. And on Monday morning,\\nas, with your bag and umbrella in your hand, you stand by the gunwale,\\nwaiting to step ashore, you begin to thoroughly like it.\\n\\nI remember my brother-in-law going for a short sea trip once, for the\\nbenefit of his health. He took a return berth from London to Liverpool;\\nand when he got to Liverpool, the only thing he was anxious about was to\\ns\",\n \"said he had often wished to be, but had never been able.\\n\\nThen he told us anecdotes of how he had gone across the Channel when it\\nwas so rough that the passengers had to be tied into their berths, and he\\nand the captain were the only two living souls on board who were not ill.\\nSometimes it was he and the second mate who were not ill; but it was\\ngenerally he and one other man. If not he and another man, then it was\\nhe by himself.\\n\\nIt is a curious fact, but nobody ever is sea\",\n \"\\n\\nI said:\\n\\nâWerenât you a little shaky by Southend Pier one day, and wanted to be\\nthrown overboard?â\\n\\nâSouthend Pier!â he replied, with a puzzled expression.\\n\\nâYes; going down to Yarmouth, last Friday three weeks.â\\n\\nâOh, ahâyes,â he answered, brightening up; âI remember now. I did have a\\nheadache that afternoon. \",\n \"other man. If not he and another man, then it was\\nhe by himself.\\n\\nIt is a curious fact, but nobody ever is sea-sickâon land. At sea, you\\ncome across plenty of people very bad indeed, whole boat-loads of them;\\nbut I never met a man yet, on land, who had ever known at all what it was\\nto be sea-sick. Where the thousands upon thousands of bad sailors that\\nswarm in every ship hide themselves when they are on land is a mystery.\\n\\nIf most men were like a\",\n \"room of a Bath hotel,\\ntalking about his voyages, and explaining, with enthusiasm, how he loved\\nthe sea.\\n\\nâGood sailor!â he replied in answer to a mild young manâs envious query;\\nâwell, I did feel a little queer _once_, I confess. It was off Cape\\nHorn. The vessel was wrecked the next morning.â\\n\\nI said:\\n\\nâWerenât you a little shaky by Southend Pier one day, and wanted to\",\n \". But I was afraid for George. George said\\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\\nHarris and me not to think of it, as he felt sure we should both be ill.\\nHarris said that, to himself, it was always a mystery how people managed\\nto get sick at seaâsaid he thought people must do it on purpose, from\\naffectationâsaid he had often wished to be, but had never been able.\\n\\nThen he told us anecdotes of how he had gone across\",\n \"up to him to try and\\nsave him.\\n\\nâHi! come further in,â I said, shaking him by the shoulder. âYouâll be\\noverboard.â\\n\\nâOh my! I wish I was,â was the only answer I could get; and there I had\\nto leave him.\\n\\nThree weeks afterwards, I met him in the coffee-room of a Bath hotel,\\ntalking about his voyages, and explaining, with enthusiasm, how he loved\\nthe sea.\\n\\nâ\",\n \"balancing myself. You stand in the centre of the deck,\\nand, as the ship heaves and pitches, you move your body about, so as to\\nkeep it always straight. When the front of the ship rises, you lean\\nforward, till the deck almost touches your nose; and when its back end\\ngets up, you lean backwards. This is all very well for an hour or two;\\nbut you canât balance yourself for a week.\\n\\nGeorge said:\\n\\nâLetâs go up the river.â\\n\",\n \"had been very little good\\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\\n\\nâWell, hang it all, Iâve done more than old J., anyhow,â rejoined Harris.\\n\\nâWell, you couldnât very well have done less,â added George.\\n\\nâI suppose J. thinks he is the passenger,â continued Harris.\\n\\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston,\",\n \"to huddle myself up in my arms and hop, shivering, through six\\ninches of water. And when I do get to the sea, it is rough and quite\\ninsulting.\\n\\nOne huge wave catches me up and chucks me in a sitting posture, as hard\\nas ever it can, down on to a rock which has been put there for me. And,\\nbefore Iâve said âOh! Ugh!â and found out what has gone, the wave comes\\nback and carries me out to mid-ocean. \",\n \"upon thousands of bad sailors that\\nswarm in every ship hide themselves when they are on land is a mystery.\\n\\nIf most men were like a fellow I saw on the Yarmouth boat one day, I\\ncould account for the seeming enigma easily enough. It was just off\\nSouthend Pier, I recollect, and he was leaning out through one of the\\nport-holes in a very dangerous position. I went up to him to try and\\nsave him.\\n\\nâHi! come further in,â I said, shaking him by the shoulder\",\n \"umpy. He said he knew the sort of\\nplace I meant; where everybody went to bed at eight oâclock, and you\\ncouldnât get a _Referee_ for love or money, and had to walk ten miles to\\nget your baccy.\\n\\nâNo,â said Harris, âif you want rest and change, you canât beat a sea\\ntrip.â\\n\\nI objected to the sea trip strongly. A sea trip does you good when you\\nare going to have a couple\",\n \"(I mean that the biscuits were thin, not the captain)\\nand soda-water; but, towards Saturday, he got uppish, and went in for\\nweak tea and dry toast, and on Monday he was gorging himself on chicken\\nbroth. He left the ship on Tuesday, and as it steamed away from the\\nlanding-stage he gazed after it regretfully.\\n\\nâThere she goes,â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that\",\n \"tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\\n\\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.?â\\n\\nI said I generally preferred to sleep _inside_ a bed.\\n\\nHarris said it was old.\\n\\nGeorge said:\\n\\nâWhat time shall I wake you fellows?â\\n\\nHarris said:\\n\\nâSeven.â\\n\\nI said:\\n\\nâNoâsix,â because I wanted to write some\",\n \"times\\nthey were carried under it again, and every time âcoxâ looked up and saw\\nthe bridge above him he broke out into renewed sobs.\\n\\nGeorge said he little thought that afternoon that he should ever come to\\nreally like boating.\\n\\nHarris is more accustomed to sea rowing than to river work, and says\\nthat, as an exercise, he prefers it. I donât. I remember taking a small\\nboat out at Eastbourne last summer: I used to do a good deal of sea\\nrow\",\n \", told them it was\\njolly fun, boating!\\n\\nThe tide was running out pretty rapidly when they reached the\\nlanding-stage, and there was a stiff breeze blowing across the river, but\\nthis did not trouble them at all, and they proceeded to select their\\nboat.\\n\\nThere was an eight-oared racing outrigger drawn up on the stage; that was\\nthe one that took their fancy. They said theyâd have that one, please.\\nThe boatman was away, and only his boy was in charge. The boy tried to\\nd\",\n \"ering about the boat with\\nthe lantern, looking for his clothes. He seemed to be worrying about his\\nclothes all night.\\n\\nTwice he routed up George and myself to see if we were lying on his\\ntrousers. George got quite wild the second time.\\n\\nâWhat the thunder do you want your trousers for, in the middle of the\\nnight?â he asked indignantly. âWhy donât you lie down, and go to sleep?â\\n\\nI found him in trouble, the next\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy; and if a trifle low, so\\nmuch the jollier. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was\\nan angel sent upon the earth, for some reason withheld from mankind, in\\nthe shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of\\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-\",\n \"a sort of\\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-do-something-to-\\nmake-it-better-and-nobler expression about Montmorency that has been\\nknown to bring the tears into the eyes of pious old ladies and gentlemen.\\n\\nWhen first he came to live at my expense, I never thought I should be\\nable to get him to stop long. I used to sit down and look at him, as he\\nsat on the rug and looked up at me,\",\n \"a pleasure. Sure you donât want anything,\\nnow?â\\n\\nMONTMORENCY (_still backing_): âNot at all, thanksânot at allâvery kind\\nof you. Good morning.â\\n\\nTHE CAT: âGood-morning.â\\n\\nThen the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what\\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\\nan unimportant position in the\",\n \"â he exclaimed, indignantly.\\n\\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\\n\\nâStand still, canât you!â roared George, flying after him.\\n\\nAnd they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.\\n\\nMontmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorencyâs ambition in life, is\\nto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he\\nparticularly is not wanted\",\n \". At the first sound the\\nkettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threatening\\nattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and it\\nup and spit at him.\\n\\n[Picture: Montmorency and the kettle] âAh! would ye!â growled\\nMontmorency, showing his teeth; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty\",\n \"âthe sort of cry\\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\\nafter his prey.\\n\\nHis victim was a large black Tom. I never saw a larger cat, nor a more\\ndisreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears,\\nand a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long,\\nsinewy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\\n\\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of\",\n \"venture his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\\nshillings by backing him to kill rats against time, then I began to think\\nthat maybe theyâd let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.\\n\\nTo hang about a stable, and collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs\\nto be found in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâ\",\n \", coming back, Montmorency made an awful ass\\nof himself. The only subject on which Montmorency and I have any serious\\ndifference of opinion is cats. I like cats; Montmorency does not.\\n\\n[Picture: Cat] When I meet a cat, I say, âPoor Pussy!â and stop down and\\ntickle the side of its head; and the cat sticks up its tail in a rigid,\\ncast-iron manner, arches its back, and wipes its nose up against my\\ntrousers; and\",\n \"ât had any dinner). It seems to suit everybody, however, which is\\ngreatly to its credit.\\n\\nIt suited me to a âTâ too, and Harris and I both said it was a good idea\\nof Georgeâs; and we said it in a tone that seemed to somehow imply that\\nwe were surprised that George should have come out so sensible.\\n\\n[Picture: Montmorency] The only one who was not struck with the\\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\",\n \"river, to get a little practice, but it\\nwas never a success. Harrisâs language used to be enough to unnerve any\\nman; added to which, Montmorency would sit and howl steadily, right\\nthrough the performance. It was not giving the man a fair chance.\\n\\nâWhatâs he want to howl like that for when Iâm playing?â George would\\nexclaim indignantly, while taking aim at him with a boot.\\n\\nâWhat do you want to play like that\",\n \"George and Harris and\\nMontmorency are not poetic ideals_, _but things of flesh and\\nbloodâespecially George_, _who weighs about twelve stone_. _Other works\\nmay excel this in depth of thought and knowledge of human nature: other\\nbooks may rival it in originality and size_; _but_, _for hopeless and\\nincurable veracity_, _nothing yet discovered can surpass it_. _This_,\\n_more than all its other charms_, _will_, _it is felt_, _make the volume\\nprecious in the eye\",\n \"gentleman, who may\\noften be met with about these regions, during the summer months, sculling\\nhimself along in easy vigorous style, or chatting genially to some old\\nlock-keeper, as he passes throughâuntil well the other side of Henley, it\\nis somewhat bare and dull.\\n\\nWe got up tolerably early on the Monday morning at Marlow, and went for a\\nbathe before breakfast; and, coming back, Montmorency made an awful ass\\nof himself. The only subject on which Montmorency and I have any serious\\n\",\n \"you are all three speechless, owing to having caught\\nsevere colds in the night; you also feel very quarrelsome, and you swear\\nat each other in hoarse whispers during the whole of breakfast time.\\n\\nWe therefore decided that we would sleep out on fine nights; and hotel\\nit, and inn it, and pub. it, like respectable folks, when it was wet, or\\nwhen we felt inclined for a change.\\n\\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy;\",\n \"\\nWe had been sitting huddled up in our rugs while George had been telling\\nme this true story, and on his finishing it I set to work to wake up\\nHarris with a scull. The third prod did it: and he turned over on the\\nother side, and said he would be down in a minute, and that he would have\\nhis lace-up boots. We soon let him know where he was, however, by the\\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\\nbeen sleeping the sleep of\",\n \"; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye.\\nCome on!â\\n\\nAnd he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout.\\n\\nThen, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp, and\\nMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\\nthen to\",\n \"ncy] The only one who was not struck with the\\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\\nMontmorency.\\n\\nâItâs all very well for you fellows,â he says; âyou like it, but _I_\\ndonât. Thereâs nothing for me to do. Scenery is not in my line, and I\\ndonât smoke. If I see a rat, you wonât stop; and\",\n \"up its tail in a rigid,\\ncast-iron manner, arches its back, and wipes its nose up against my\\ntrousers; and all is gentleness and peace. When Montmorency meets a cat,\\nthe whole street knows about it; and there is enough bad language wasted\\nin ten seconds to last an ordinarily respectable man all his life, with\\ncare.\\n\\nI do not blame the dog (contenting myself, as a rule, with merely\\nclouting his head or throwing stones at him), because I take it that it\\nis his nature. Fox\",\n \"he wished he had not\\ngiven way to it that morning.\\n\\nWe were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-way up the High\\nStreet a cat darted out from one of the houses in front of us, and began\\nto trot across the road. Montmorency gave a cry of joyâthe cry of a\\nstern warrior who sees his enemy given over to his handsâthe sort of cry\\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\\nafter his prey\",\n \"morency, fitting what\\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\\nan unimportant position in the rear.\\n\\nTo this day, if you say the word âCats!â to Montmorency, he will visibly\\nshrink and look up piteously at you, as if to say:\\n\\nâPlease donât.â\\n\\nWe did our marketing after breakfast, and revictualled the boat for three\\ndays. George said we ought to take vegetablesâ\",\n \"as for the gravy, it was a poemâa\\nlittle too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious.\\n\\nWe finished up with tea and cherry tart. Montmorency had a fight with\\nthe kettle during tea-time, and came off a poor second.\\n\\nThroughout the trip, he had manifested great curiosity concerning the\\nkettle. He would sit and watch it, as it boiled, with a puzzled\\nexpression, and would try and rouse it every now and then by growling at\\nit\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy; and if a trifle low, so\\nmuch the jollier. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was\\nan angel sent upon the earth, for some reason withheld from mankind, in\\nthe shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of\\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-\",\n \". At the first sound the\\nkettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threatening\\nattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and it\\nup and spit at him.\\n\\n[Picture: Montmorency and the kettle] âAh! would ye!â growled\\nMontmorency, showing his teeth; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty\",\n \"venture his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\\nshillings by backing him to kill rats against time, then I began to think\\nthat maybe theyâd let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.\\n\\nTo hang about a stable, and collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs\\nto be found in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâ\",\n \"; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye.\\nCome on!â\\n\\nAnd he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout.\\n\\nThen, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp, and\\nMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\\nthen to\",\n \"âthe sort of cry\\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\\nafter his prey.\\n\\nHis victim was a large black Tom. I never saw a larger cat, nor a more\\ndisreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears,\\nand a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long,\\nsinewy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\\n\\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of\",\n \"â he exclaimed, indignantly.\\n\\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\\n\\nâStand still, canât you!â roared George, flying after him.\\n\\nAnd they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.\\n\\nMontmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorencyâs ambition in life, is\\nto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he\\nparticularly is not wanted\",\n \"this disgraceful scene!â\\n\\nShe said that the people at the Stores had no right to allow great savage\\nthings like those other dogs to be put with respectable peopleâs dogs,\\nand that she had a great mind to summon somebody.\\n\\nSuch is the nature of fox-terriers; and, therefore, I do not blame\\nMontmorency for his tendency to row with cats; but he wished he had not\\ngiven way to it that morning.\\n\\nWe were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-\",\n \"up its tail in a rigid,\\ncast-iron manner, arches its back, and wipes its nose up against my\\ntrousers; and all is gentleness and peace. When Montmorency meets a cat,\\nthe whole street knows about it; and there is enough bad language wasted\\nin ten seconds to last an ordinarily respectable man all his life, with\\ncare.\\n\\nI do not blame the dog (contenting myself, as a rule, with merely\\nclouting his head or throwing stones at him), because I take it that it\\nis his nature. Fox\",\n \"ât had any dinner). It seems to suit everybody, however, which is\\ngreatly to its credit.\\n\\nIt suited me to a âTâ too, and Harris and I both said it was a good idea\\nof Georgeâs; and we said it in a tone that seemed to somehow imply that\\nwe were surprised that George should have come out so sensible.\\n\\n[Picture: Montmorency] The only one who was not struck with the\\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\",\n \"the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\\nthen to bury his nose in a bit of cool mud.\\n\\nFrom that day Montmorency regarded the kettle with a mixture of awe,\\nsuspicion, and hate. Whenever he saw it he would growl and back at a\\nrapid rate, with his tail shut down, and the moment it was put upon the\\nstove he would promptly climb out of the boat, and sit on the bank, till\\nthe whole\",\n \"in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâs idea of âlife;â and so,\\nas I before observed, he gave to the suggestion of inns, and pubs., and\\nhotels his most emphatic approbation.\\n\\nHaving thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all\\nfour of us, the only thing left to discuss was what we should take with\\nus; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said heâ\",\n \"a sort of\\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-do-something-to-\\nmake-it-better-and-nobler expression about Montmorency that has been\\nknown to bring the tears into the eyes of pious old ladies and gentlemen.\\n\\nWhen first he came to live at my expense, I never thought I should be\\nable to get him to stop long. I used to sit down and look at him, as he\\nsat on the rug and looked up at me,\",\n \"he wished he had not\\ngiven way to it that morning.\\n\\nWe were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-way up the High\\nStreet a cat darted out from one of the houses in front of us, and began\\nto trot across the road. Montmorency gave a cry of joyâthe cry of a\\nstern warrior who sees his enemy given over to his handsâthe sort of cry\\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\\nafter his prey\",\n \".âAnother wet\\nday.âFlight.âA little supper and a toast.\\n\\n[Picture: Dog running] We spent two very pleasant days at Oxford. There\\nare plenty of dogs in the town of Oxford. Montmorency had eleven fights\\non the first day, and fourteen on the second, and evidently thought he\\nhad got to heaven.\\n\\n[Picture: Dogs fighting] Among folk too constitutionally weak, or too\\nconstitutionally lazy, whichever it may be, to relish up-stream work\",\n \"river, to get a little practice, but it\\nwas never a success. Harrisâs language used to be enough to unnerve any\\nman; added to which, Montmorency would sit and howl steadily, right\\nthrough the performance. It was not giving the man a fair chance.\\n\\nâWhatâs he want to howl like that for when Iâm playing?â George would\\nexclaim indignantly, while taking aim at him with a boot.\\n\\nâWhat do you want to play like that\",\n \"wy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\\n\\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of twenty miles an hour;\\nbut the cat did not hurry upâdid not seem to have grasped the idea that\\nits life was in danger. It trotted quietly on until its would-be\\nassassin was within a yard of it, and then it turned round and sat down\\nin the middle of the road, and looked at Montmorency with a gentle,\\ninquiring expression, that said:\\n\\nâ\",\n \"gentleman, who may\\noften be met with about these regions, during the summer months, sculling\\nhimself along in easy vigorous style, or chatting genially to some old\\nlock-keeper, as he passes throughâuntil well the other side of Henley, it\\nis somewhat bare and dull.\\n\\nWe got up tolerably early on the Monday morning at Marlow, and went for a\\nbathe before breakfast; and, coming back, Montmorency made an awful ass\\nof himself. The only subject on which Montmorency and I have any serious\\n\",\n \"a pleasure. Sure you donât want anything,\\nnow?â\\n\\nMONTMORENCY (_still backing_): âNot at all, thanksânot at allâvery kind\\nof you. Good morning.â\\n\\nTHE CAT: âGood-morning.â\\n\\nThen the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what\\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\\nan unimportant position in the\",\n \"as for the gravy, it was a poemâa\\nlittle too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious.\\n\\nWe finished up with tea and cherry tart. Montmorency had a fight with\\nthe kettle during tea-time, and came off a poor second.\\n\\nThroughout the trip, he had manifested great curiosity concerning the\\nkettle. He would sit and watch it, as it boiled, with a puzzled\\nexpression, and would try and rouse it every now and then by growling at\\nit\",\n \"\\n\\n\\nPREFACE.\\n\\n\\n_The chief beauty of this book lies not so much in its literary style_,\\n_or in the extent and usefulness of the information it conveys_, _as in\\nits simple truthfulness_. _Its pages form the record of events that\\nreally happened_. _All that has been done is to colour them_; _and_,\\n_for this_, _no extra charge has been made_. _George and Harris and\\nMontmorency are not poetic ideals_, _but things of flesh and\\nbloodâespecially George_,\"\n ],\n [\n \"I.\\n\\n\\nThree invalids.âSufferings of George and Harris.âA victim to one hundred\\nand seven fatal maladies.âUseful prescriptions.âCure for liver complaint\\nin children.âWe agree that we are overworked, and need rest.âA week on\\nthe rolling deep?âGeorge suggests the River.âMontmorency lodges an\\nobjection.âOriginal motion carried by majority of three to one.\\n\\nThere were four of usâ\",\n \"there was any known disease going within ten miles of him, he\\nhad it, and had it badly. He would take bronchitis in the dog-days, and\\nhave hay-fever at Christmas. After a six weeksâ period of drought, he\\nwould be stricken down with rheumatic fever; and he would go out in a\\nNovember fog and come home with a sunstroke.\\n\\nThey put him under laughing-gas one year, poor lad, and drew all his\\nteeth, and gave him a false set, because he suffered so terribly\",\n \"Montmorency lodges an\\nobjection.âOriginal motion carried by majority of three to one.\\n\\nThere were four of usâGeorge, and William Samuel Harris, and myself, and\\nMontmorency. We were sitting in my room, smoking, and talking about how\\nbad we wereâbad from a medical point of view I mean, of course.\\n\\nWe were all feeling seedy, and we were getting quite nervous about it.\\nHarris said he felt such extraordinary fits of giddiness come over him at\\ntimes, that he hardly\",\n \"we were getting quite nervous about it.\\nHarris said he felt such extraordinary fits of giddiness come over him at\\ntimes, that he hardly knew what he was doing; and then George said that\\n_he_ had fits of giddiness too, and hardly knew what _he_ was doing.\\nWith me, it was my liver that was out of order. I knew it was my liver\\nthat was out of order, because I had just been reading a patent\\nliver-pill circular, in which were detailed the various symptoms by which\\na man could tell when his liver was out of\",\n \"I expected, that I had that too,âbegan to get interested\\nin my case, and determined to sift it to the bottom, and so started\\nalphabeticallyâread up ague, and learnt that I was sickening for it, and\\nthat the acute stage would commence in about another fortnight. Brightâs\\ndisease, I was relieved to find, I had only in a modified form, and, so\\nfar as that was concerned, I might live for years. Cholera I had, with\\nsevere complications\",\n \"wet night down at\\nAldershot, âon just such another night as this,â said Harris; and he had\\nwoke up in the morning a cripple for life. Harris said he would\\nintroduce us both to the man when we got back to town; it would make our\\nhearts bleed to see him.\\n\\nThis naturally led to some pleasant chat about sciatica, fevers, chills,\\nlung diseases, and bronchitis; and Harris said how very awkward it would\\nbe if one of us were taken seriously ill in the night\",\n \"\\n\\nAnd we other boys, who would have sacrificed ten terms of our school-life\\nfor the sake of being ill for a day, and had no desire whatever to give\\nour parents any excuse for being stuck-up about us, couldnât catch so\\nmuch as a stiff neck. We fooled about in draughts, and it did us good,\\nand freshened us up; and we took things to make us sick, and they made us\\nfat, and gave us an appetite. Nothing we could think of seemed to make\\nus ill until the\",\n \"weak at the time; because I know, after the first\\nhalf-hour or so, I seemed to take no interest whatever in my foodâan\\nunusual thing for meâand I didnât want any cheese.\\n\\nThis duty done, we refilled our glasses, lit our pipes, and resumed the\\ndiscussion upon our state of health. What it was that was actually the\\nmatter with us, we none of us could be sure of; but the unanimous opinion\\nwas that itâwhatever it wasâhad\",\n \"1,\\nour neighbourhood was singularly free from it. There was only one\\nreputed case in the whole parish: that case was young Stivvings.\\n\\nHe had to stop in bed when he was ill, and eat chicken and custards and\\nhot-house grapes; and he would lie there and sob, because they wouldnât\\nlet him do Latin exercises, and took his German grammar away from him.\\n\\nAnd we other boys, who would have sacrificed ten terms of our school-life\\nfor the sake of being ill for a day, and had\",\n \"while, frozen with horror; and then, in the listlessness of\\ndespair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid feverâread the\\nsymptomsâdiscovered that I had typhoid fever, must have had it for months\\nwithout knowing itâwondered what else I had got; turned up St. Vitusâs\\nDanceâfound, as I expected, that I had that too,âbegan to get interested\\nin my case, and determined to sift it to the bottom\",\n \"us, we none of us could be sure of; but the unanimous opinion\\nwas that itâwhatever it wasâhad been brought on by overwork.\\n\\nâWhat we want is rest,â said Harris.\\n\\nâRest and a complete change,â said George. âThe overstrain upon our\\nbrains has produced a general depression throughout the system. Change\\nof scene, and absence of the necessity for thought, will restore the\\nmental equilibrium.â\\n\\nGeorge has a cousin,\",\n \"it\\nwith the other. I could only see the tip, and the only thing that I\\ncould gain from that was to feel more certain than before that I had\\nscarlet fever.\\n\\n[Picture: Man with walking stick] I had walked into that reading-room a\\nhappy, healthy man. I crawled out a decrepit wreck.\\n\\nI went to my medical man. He is an old chum of mine, and feels my pulse,\\nand looks at my tongue, and talks about the weather, all for nothing,\\nwhen I fancy Iâm ill\",\n \"ly turned the\\nleaves, and began to indolently study diseases, generally. I forget\\nwhich was the first distemper I plunged intoâsome fearful, devastating\\nscourge, I knowâand, before I had glanced half down the list of\\nâpremonitory symptoms,â it was borne in upon me that I had fairly got it.\\n\\nI sat for awhile, frozen with horror; and then, in the listlessness of\\ndespair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid\",\n \"rheumatic fever, and nothing was able\\nto save him, and he had died in great agony ten days afterwards. George\\nsaid he was quite a young man, and was engaged to be married. He said it\\nwas one of the saddest things he had ever known.\\n\\nAnd that put Harris in mind of a friend of his, who had been in the\\nVolunteers, and who had slept out under canvas one wet night down at\\nAldershot, âon just such another night as this,â said Harris; and he had\\nwo\",\n \"I had the\\nsymptoms, beyond all mistake, the chief among them being âa general\\ndisinclination to work of any kind.â\\n\\nWhat I suffer in that way no tongue can tell. From my earliest infancy I\\nhave been a martyr to it. As a boy, the disease hardly ever left me for\\na day. They did not know, then, that it was my liver. Medical science\\nwas in a far less advanced state than now, and they used to put it down\\nto laziness.\\n\\nâWhy,\",\n \"that they were so damp: but George said no, not if properly drained.\\n\\nAnd then we got on to drains, and that put George in mind of a very funny\\nthing that happened to his father once. He said his father was\\ntravelling with another fellow through Wales, and, one night, they\\nstopped at a little inn, where there were some other fellows, and they\\njoined the other fellows, and spent the evening with them.\\n\\nThey had a very jolly evening, and sat up late, and, by the time they\\ncame to go\",\n \"him under laughing-gas one year, poor lad, and drew all his\\nteeth, and gave him a false set, because he suffered so terribly with\\ntoothache; and then it turned to neuralgia and ear-ache. He was never\\nwithout a cold, except once for nine weeks while he had scarlet fever;\\nand he always had chilblains. During the great cholera scare of 1871,\\nour neighbourhood was singularly free from it. There was only one\\nreputed case in the whole parish: that case was young\",\n \", reminds me of a rather curious\\nincident at which I once assisted; which, as it throws much light upon\\nthe inner mental working of human nature in general, ought, I think, to\\nbe recorded in these pages.\\n\\nWe were a fashionable and highly cultured party. We had on our best\\nclothes, and we talked pretty, and were very happyâall except two young\\nfellows, students, just returned from Germany, commonplace young men, who\\nseemed restless and uncomfortable, as if they found the proceedings slow.\\nThe truth was, we\",\n \"and feels my pulse,\\nand looks at my tongue, and talks about the weather, all for nothing,\\nwhen I fancy Iâm ill; so I thought I would do him a good turn by going to\\nhim now. âWhat a doctor wants,â I said, âis practice. He shall have me.\\nHe will get more practice out of me than out of seventeen hundred of your\\nordinary, commonplace patients, with only one or two diseases each.â So\\nI went straight up and saw him, and he said:\",\n \" _This_,\\n_more than all its other charms_, _will_, _it is felt_, _make the volume\\nprecious in the eye of the earnest reader_; _and will lend additional\\nweight to the lesson that the story teaches_.\\n\\nLONDON, _August_, 1889.\\n\\n [Picture: Graphic of three men in a rowing boat]\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER I.\\n\\n\\nThree invalids.âSufferings of George and Harris.âA victim to one hundred\\nand seven\"\n ],\n [\n \"the last two\\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\\nabout the matter, and also remembers that there was an unusually strong\\nstream against them all the wayâlikewise a stiff wind.\\n\\nâAbout thirty-four miles, I suppose, it must have been,â adds the first\\nspeaker, reaching down another cushion to put under his head.\\n\\nâNoâno; donât exaggerate, Tom,â murmurs Jack, reprovingly\",\n \", he gets out\\non to the bank, and hides behind a tree.\\n\\nI was one of a party who hired an up-river boat one summer, for a few\\ndaysâ trip. We had none of us ever seen the hired up-river boat before;\\nand we did not know what it was when we did see it.\\n\\nWe had written for a boatâa double sculling skiff; and when we went down\\nwith our bags to the yard, and gave our names, the man said:\\n\\n[Picture: The Pride of the\",\n \"ful appearance.\\n\\nâI should like to see him pull the wrong line,â murmured George, as they\\npassed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed\\nup the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen\\nsheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars immediately left the boat on\\nthe larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments\\nafterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down\\namong boat\",\n \"steadily up stream for the last hour and a half; âwhy, Jim Biffles\\nand Jack and I, last season, pulled up from Marlow to Goring in one\\nafternoonânever stopped once. Do you remember that, Jack?â\\n\\nJack, who has made himself a bed up in the prow of all the rugs and coats\\nhe can collect, and who has been lying there asleep for the last two\\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\\nabout the matter, and also remem\",\n \"balancing myself. You stand in the centre of the deck,\\nand, as the ship heaves and pitches, you move your body about, so as to\\nkeep it always straight. When the front of the ship rises, you lean\\nforward, till the deck almost touches your nose; and when its back end\\ngets up, you lean backwards. This is all very well for an hour or two;\\nbut you canât balance yourself for a week.\\n\\nGeorge said:\\n\\nâLetâs go up the river.â\\n\",\n \"this lumbering old top-heavy\\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\\nGeorge come and do some work? Why couldnât he have got the day off, and\\ncome down with us? Bank be blowed! What good was he at the bank?\\n\\nâI never see him doing any work there,â continued Harris, âwhenever I go\\nin. He sits behind a bit of glass all day, trying to look as if he was\\ndoing something.\",\n \"was, in fact, _the_ boat,\\nthe âdouble sculling skiffâ selected to take us on our trip down the\\nriver.\\n\\nWe grumbled a good deal. We thought he might, at least, have had it\\nwhitewashed or tarredâhad _something_ done to it to distinguish it from a\\nbit of a wreck; but he could not see any fault in it.\\n\\nHe even seemed offended at our remarks. He said he had picked us out the\\nbest boat in all his stock, and he thought we might\",\n \"ncy] The only one who was not struck with the\\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\\nMontmorency.\\n\\nâItâs all very well for you fellows,â he says; âyou like it, but _I_\\ndonât. Thereâs nothing for me to do. Scenery is not in my line, and I\\ndonât smoke. If I see a rat, you wonât stop; and\",\n \"ns.\\n\\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\\n\\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\\nI would go down in the morning, and take the boat up to Chertsey, and\\nGeorge, who would not be able to get away from the City till the\\nafternoon (George goes to sleep at a bank from ten to four each day,\\nexcept Saturdays, when they wake him up and put him outside at two),\\nwould meet us there.\\n\\nShould we âcamp outâ or sleep at in\",\n \"\\nIf these men had their way they would close the river Thames altogether.\\nThey actually do this along the minor tributary streams and in the\\nbackwaters. They drive posts into the bed of the stream, and draw chains\\nacross from bank to bank, and nail huge notice-boards on every tree. The\\nsight of those notice-boards rouses every evil instinct in my nature. I\\nfeel I want to tear each one down, and hammer it over the head of the man\\nwho put it up, until I have killed him, and then I would bury him\",\n \"\\nI was steering.\\n\\nAs we drew nearer, we could see that the three men fishing seemed old and\\nsolemn-looking men. They sat on three chairs in the punt, and watched\\nintently their lines. And the red sunset threw a mystic light upon the\\nwaters, and tinged with fire the towering woods, and made a golden glory\\nof the piled-up clouds. It was an hour of deep enchantment, of ecstatic\\nhope and longing. The little sail stood out against the purple sky, the\\ng\",\n \", by the\\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\\nbeen sleeping the sleep of the just right on the middle of his chest,\\nsprawling across the boat.\\n\\nThen we pulled up the canvas, and all four of us poked our heads out over\\nthe off-side, and looked down at the water and shivered. The idea,\\novernight, had been that we should get up early in the morning, fling off\\nour rugs and shawls, and, throwing back the canvas, spring into the\",\n \"diving-board by young men\\nnow who wish to see if the place really _is_ dangerous.\\n\\n [Picture: River scene]\\n\\nIffley Lock and Mill, a mile before you reach Oxford, is a favourite\\nsubject with the river-loving brethren of the brush. The real article,\\nhowever, is rather disappointing, after the pictures. Few things, I have\\nnoticed, come quite up to the pictures of them, in this world.\\n\\nWe passed through Iffley Lock at about half-past twelve, and then\",\n \"but the posts and\\nchains a little skill will easily avoid; and as for the boards, you\\nmight, if you have five minutes to spare, and there is nobody about, take\\none or two of them down and throw them into the river.\\n\\nHalf-way up the backwater, we got out and lunched; and it was during this\\nlunch that George and I received rather a trying shock.\\n\\nHarris received a shock, too; but I do not think Harrisâs shock could\\nhave been anything like so bad as the shock that George and I\",\n \"a mile of distance.\\n\\nOf course, its entrance is studded with posts and chains, and surrounded\\nwith notice boards, menacing all kinds of torture, imprisonment, and\\ndeath to everyone who dares set scull upon its watersâI wonder some of\\nthese riparian boors donât claim the air of the river and threaten\\neveryone with forty shillings fine who breathes itâbut the posts and\\nchains a little skill will easily avoid; and as for the boards, you\\nmight, if you have five minutes to\",\n \"City, so\\nhe explained. Harris, who is callous in his nature, and not prone to\\npity, said:\\n\\nâAh! and now you are going to have a hard time on the river for a change;\\nchange is good for everyone. Out you get!â\\n\\nHe could not in conscienceânot even Georgeâs conscienceâobject, though he\\ndid suggest that, perhaps, it would be better for him to stop in the\\nboat, and get tea ready, while Harris and I towed, because getting tea\",\n \", told them it was\\njolly fun, boating!\\n\\nThe tide was running out pretty rapidly when they reached the\\nlanding-stage, and there was a stiff breeze blowing across the river, but\\nthis did not trouble them at all, and they proceeded to select their\\nboat.\\n\\nThere was an eight-oared racing outrigger drawn up on the stage; that was\\nthe one that took their fancy. They said theyâd have that one, please.\\nThe boatman was away, and only his boy was in charge. The boy tried to\\nd\",\n \"far away and\\nlittle; and the clouds, so close above your head, are brothers, and you\\nstretch your arms to them.\\n\\nWe had the river to ourselves, except that, far in the distance, we could\\nsee a fishing-punt, moored in mid-stream, on which three fishermen sat;\\nand we skimmed over the water, and passed the wooded banks, and no one\\nspoke.\\n\\nI was steering.\\n\\nAs we drew nearer, we could see that the three men fishing seemed old and\\nsolemn-looking men\",\n \"took a âraw\\nâunâ up with us once last season, and we plied him with the customary\\nstretchers about the wonderful things we had done all the way up.\\n\\nWe gave him all the regular onesâthe time-honoured lies that have done\\nduty up the river with every boating-man for years pastâand added seven\\nentirely original ones that we had invented for ourselves, including a\\nreally quite likely story, founded, to a certain extent, on an all but\\ntrue episode, which had\",\n \"âWhy, bless us, whereâs your eyes?â was the manâs comment, as he twisted\\nGeorge round and pointed up and down the stream. âThereâs enough of it\\nto see, ainât there?â\\n\\nâOh!â exclaimed George, grasping the idea; âbut we canât drink the river,\\nyou know!â\\n\\nâNo; but you can drink _some_ of it,â\"\n ],\n [\n \"about, and get in your way), and packing ourselves and our\\nbelongings into it, and shooting out a couple of Montmorencyâs friends,\\nwho had evidently sworn never to forsake him, we drove away amidst the\\ncheers of the crowd, Biggsâs boy shying a carrot after us for luck.\\n\\nWe got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started\\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\\ntrain is going to start from, or where\",\n \"and begin again. For the beginning again part\\nof it there was not much enthusiasm; but with regard to the advisability\\nof going back to the entrance there was complete unanimity, and so they\\nturned, and trailed after Harris again, in the opposite direction. About\\nten minutes more passed, and then they found themselves in the centre.\\n\\nHarris thought at first of pretending that that was what he had been\\naiming at; but the crowd looked dangerous, and he decided to treat it as\\nan accident.\\n\\nAnyhow, they had got something to start from\",\n \"real thing, and only misleading. It was a country\\ncousin that Harris took in. He said:\\n\\nâWeâll just go in here, so that you can say youâve been, but itâs very\\nsimple. Itâs absurd to call it a maze. You keep on taking the first\\nturning to the right. Weâll just walk round for ten minutes, and then go\\nand get some lunch.â\\n\\nThey met some people soon after they had got inside\",\n \"The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\\nfrom the local.\\n\\nTo put an end to the matter, we went upstairs, and asked the traffic\\nsuperintendent, and he told us that he had just met a man, who said he\\nhad seen it at number three platform. We went to number three platform,\\nbut the authorities there said that they rather thought that train was\\nthe Southampton express, or else the Windsor loop. But they were sure it\\nwasnât the Kingston train, though why they were sure it wasnâ\",\n \"blessing him. Harris\\nsaid he should judge there must have been twenty people, following him,\\nin all; and one woman with a baby, who had been there all the morning,\\ninsisted on taking his arm, for fear of losing him.\\n\\nHarris kept on turning to the right, but it seemed a long way, and his\\ncousin said he supposed it was a very big maze.\\n\\nâOh, one of the largest in Europe,â said Harris.\\n\\nâYes, it must be,â replied the cousin,\",\n \"t get anywhere else. Whatever way they\\nturned brought them back to the middle. It became so regular at length,\\nthat some of the people stopped there, and waited for the others to take\\na walk round, and come back to them. Harris drew out his map again,\\nafter a while, but the sight of it only infuriated the mob, and they told\\nhim to go and curl his hair with it. Harris said that he couldnât help\\nfeeling that, to a certain extent, he had become unpopular.\\n\\nThey all got crazy at\",\n \"d ever been in the\\nmaze at Hampton Court. He said he went in once to show somebody else the\\nway. He had studied it up in a map, and it was so simple that it seemed\\nfoolishâhardly worth the twopence charged for admission. Harris said he\\nthought that map must have been got up as a practical joke, because it\\nwasnât a bit like the real thing, and only misleading. It was a country\\ncousin that Harris took in. He said:\\n\\nâWe\",\n \"he was\\ngoing to Kingston. He said he couldnât say for certain of course, but\\nthat he rather thought he was. Anyhow, if he wasnât the 11.5 for\\nKingston, he said he was pretty confident he was the 9.32 for Virginia\\nWater, or the 10 a.m. express for the Isle of Wight, or somewhere in that\\ndirection, and we should all know when we got there. We slipped\\nhalf-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be\",\n \", one of the largest in Europe,â said Harris.\\n\\nâYes, it must be,â replied the cousin, âbecause weâve walked a good two\\nmiles already.â\\n\\nHarris began to think it rather strange himself, but he held on until, at\\nlast, they passed the half of a penny bun on the ground that Harrisâs\\ncousin swore he had noticed there seven minutes ago. Harris said: âOh,\\nimpossible!â but the woman\",\n \"\\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for it,\\nand nobody knew what had become of it.\\n\\nOur boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we\\nwended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we\\nstepped.\\n\\nâAre you all right, sir?â said the man.\\n\\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the\",\n \"\\nThey did scrape it out at last, and put it down on a chair, and Harris\\nsat on it, and it stuck to him, and they went looking for it all over the\\nroom.\\n\\nâIâll take my oath I put it down on that chair,â said George, staring at\\nthe empty seat.\\n\\nâI saw you do it myself, not a minute ago,â said Harris.\\n\\nThen they started round the room again looking for it; and then they met\\nagain in the centre, and stared at one\",\n \"was that young man as dense-headed as we\\nthought? or was heâno, impossible! there was such a simple, child-like\\nexpression about him!\\n\\nHarris wanted to get out at Hampton Church, to go and see Mrs. Thomasâs\\ntomb.\\n\\nâWho is Mrs. Thomas?â I asked.\\n\\nâHow should I know?â replied Harris. âSheâs a lady thatâs got a funny\\ntomb, and I want to see\",\n \"ll just walk round for ten minutes, and then go\\nand get some lunch.â\\n\\nThey met some people soon after they had got inside, who said they had\\nbeen there for three-quarters of an hour, and had had about enough of it.\\nHarris told them they could follow him, if they liked; he was just going\\nin, and then should turn round and come out again. They said it was very\\nkind of him, and fell behind, and followed.\\n\\nThey picked up various other people who wanted to get it over, as they\\nwent along\",\n \"-five started\\nfrom. Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a\\ntrain is going to start from, or where a train when it does start is\\ngoing to, or anything about it. The porter who took our things thought\\nit would go from number two platform, while another porter, with whom he\\ndiscussed the question, had heard a rumour that it would go from number\\none. The station-master, on the other hand, was convinced it would start\\nfrom the local.\\n\\nTo put an end to the matter, we went\",\n \"him, every\\nnow and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see\\nthem, and rush to get to them, and they would wait there for about five\\nminutes, and then he would reappear again in exactly the same spot, and\\nask them where they had been.\\n\\nThey had to wait till one of the old keepers came back from his dinner\\nbefore they got out.\\n\\nHarris said he thought it was a very fine maze, so far as he was a judge;\\nand we agreed that we would try to get George to\",\n \" said Harris.\\n\\nThen they started round the room again looking for it; and then they met\\nagain in the centre, and stared at one another.\\n\\nâMost extraordinary thing I ever heard of,â said George.\\n\\nâSo mysterious!â said Harris.\\n\\nThen George got round at the back of Harris and saw it.\\n\\nâWhy, here it is all the time,â he exclaimed, indignantly.\\n\\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\\n\\nâ\",\n \"ourselves; and he laughed pleasantly, and said that some\\npeople made such a fuss over a little thing. But even he grew strangely\\ndepressed after we had started, and so, when we reached Crewe, I asked\\nhim to come and have a drink. He accepted, and we forced our way into\\nthe buffet, where we yelled, and stamped, and waved our umbrellas for a\\nquarter of an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wanted\\nanything.\\n\\nâWhatâs yours?\",\n \"âSwanâ towards the railway station, dressed in the following neither neat\\nnor gaudy costume:\\n\\nBlack leather shoes, dirty; suit of boating flannels, very dirty; brown\\nfelt hat, much battered; mackintosh, very wet; umbrella.\\n\\nWe had deceived the boatman at Pangbourne. We had not had the face to\\ntell him that we were running away from the rain. We had left the boat,\\nand all it contained, in his charge, with instructions that it was to be\\nready for\",\n \":\\n\\nâI say, Tom!â\\n\\nâYes!â\\n\\nâHow have you got on?â\\n\\nâWell, to tell you the truth, my manâs chucked _me_ out.â\\n\\nâSoâs mine! I say, I donât think much of this inn, do you?â\\n\\nâWhat was the name of that inn?â said Harris.\\n\\nâThe Pig\",\n \"cousin swore he had noticed there seven minutes ago. Harris said: âOh,\\nimpossible!â but the woman with the baby said, âNot at all,â as she\\nherself had taken it from the child, and thrown it down there, just\\nbefore she met Harris. She also added that she wished she never had met\\nHarris, and expressed an opinion that he was an impostor. That made\\nHarris mad, and he produced his map, and explained his theory.\\n\\nâThe map\"\n ],\n [\n \"had been very little good\\nin the boat, so far as helping was concerned, from the beginning.\\n\\nâWell, hang it all, Iâve done more than old J., anyhow,â rejoined Harris.\\n\\nâWell, you couldnât very well have done less,â added George.\\n\\nâI suppose J. thinks he is the passenger,â continued Harris.\\n\\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston,\",\n \"CHAPTER II.\\n\\n\\nPlans discussed.âPleasures of âcamping-out,â on fine nights.âDitto, wet\\nnights.âCompromise decided on.âMontmorency, first impressions of.âFears\\nlest he is too good for this world, fears subsequently dismissed as\\ngroundless.âMeeting adjourns.\\n\\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\\n\\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\\n\",\n \"\\nWe learnt, afterwards, that the train we had come by was really the\\nExeter mail, and that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for it,\\nand nobody knew what had become of it.\\n\\nOur boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we\\nwended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we\\nstepped.\\n\\nâAre you all right, sir?â said the man.\\n\\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the\",\n \"him. George, on the other hand, ridiculed the idea of\\nHarrisâs having done anything more than eat and sleep, and had a\\ncast-iron opinion that it was heâGeorge himselfâwho had done all the\\nlabour worth speaking of.\\n\\nHe said he had never been out with such a couple of lazily skulks as\\nHarris and I.\\n\\nThat amused Harris.\\n\\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\\nhalf\",\n \"ns.\\n\\nWe pulled out the maps, and discussed plans.\\n\\nWe arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and\\nI would go down in the morning, and take the boat up to Chertsey, and\\nGeorge, who would not be able to get away from the City till the\\nafternoon (George goes to sleep at a bank from ten to four each day,\\nexcept Saturdays, when they wake him up and put him outside at two),\\nwould meet us there.\\n\\nShould we âcamp outâ or sleep at in\",\n \"inns, and take a seat in the\\ntap-room. You will be nearly sure to meet one or two old rod-men,\\nsipping their toddy there, and they will tell you enough fishy stories,\\nin half an hour, to give you indigestion for a month.\\n\\nGeorge and IâI donât know what had become of Harris; he had gone out and\\nhad a shave, early in the afternoon, and had then come back and spent\\nfull forty minutes in pipeclaying his shoes, we had not seen\",\n \"That amused Harris.\\n\\nâFancy old George talking about work!â he laughed; âwhy, about\\nhalf-an-hour of it would kill him. Have you ever seen George work?â he\\nadded, turning to me.\\n\\nI agreed with Harris that I never hadâmost certainly not since we had\\nstarted on this trip.\\n\\nâWell, I donât see how _you_ can know much about it, one way or the\\nother,â George retorted on Harris; â\",\n \"George and Harris again\\nshirk their work.âRather a hackneyed story.âStreatley and Goring.\\n\\nWe came in sight of Reading about eleven. The river is dirty and dismal\\nhere. One does not linger in the neighbourhood of Reading. The town\\nitself is a famous old place, dating from the dim days of King Ethelred,\\nwhen the Danes anchored their warships in the Kennet, and started from\\nReading to ravage all the land of Wessex; and here Ethel\",\n \"\\nWe had been sitting huddled up in our rugs while George had been telling\\nme this true story, and on his finishing it I set to work to wake up\\nHarris with a scull. The third prod did it: and he turned over on the\\nother side, and said he would be down in a minute, and that he would have\\nhis lace-up boots. We soon let him know where he was, however, by the\\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\\nbeen sleeping the sleep of\",\n \"Harrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\\nfamily-man puts up a picture.âGeorge makes a sensible, remark.âDelights\\nof early morning bathing.âProvisions for getting upset.\\n\\nSo, on the following evening, we again assembled, to discuss and arrange\\nour plans. Harris said:\\n\\nâNow, the first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery\",\n \"the vision faded, and the knight, kneeling upon the ground, thanked\\nthe good saint who into that sad wood had strayed his steps, so he had\\nseen the vision that lay there hid.\\n\\nAnd the name of the dark forest was Sorrow; but of the vision that the\\ngood knight saw therein we may not speak nor tell.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER XI.\\n\\n\\nHow George, once upon a time, got up early in the morning.âGeorge,\\nHarris, and Montmorency do not like the look of the cold\",\n \"felt thirsty (I never knew George\\nwhen he didnât); and, as I had a presentiment that a little whisky, warm,\\nwith a slice of lemon, would do my complaint good, the debate was, by\\ncommon assent, adjourned to the following night; and the assembly put on\\nits hats and went out.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER III.\\n\\n\\nArrangements settled.âHarrisâs method of doing work.âHow the elderly,\\nfamily-man puts up a picture.â\",\n \"continued Harris.\\n\\nAnd that was their gratitude to me for having brought them and their\\nwretched old boat all the way up from Kingston, and for having\\nsuperintended and managed everything for them, and taken care of them,\\nand slaved for them. It is the way of the world.\\n\\nWe settled the present difficulty by arranging that Harris and George\\nshould scull up past Reading, and that I should tow the boat on from\\nthere. Pulling a heavy boat against a strong stream has few attractions\\nfor me now. There was a time, long ago\",\n \"him, every\\nnow and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see\\nthem, and rush to get to them, and they would wait there for about five\\nminutes, and then he would reappear again in exactly the same spot, and\\nask them where they had been.\\n\\nThey had to wait till one of the old keepers came back from his dinner\\nbefore they got out.\\n\\nHarris said he thought it was a very fine maze, so far as he was a judge;\\nand we agreed that we would try to get George to\",\n \"tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:\\n\\nâDo you prefer the inside or the outside, J.?â\\n\\nI said I generally preferred to sleep _inside_ a bed.\\n\\nHarris said it was old.\\n\\nGeorge said:\\n\\nâWhat time shall I wake you fellows?â\\n\\nHarris said:\\n\\nâSeven.â\\n\\nI said:\\n\\nâNoâsix,â because I wanted to write some\",\n \"this lumbering old top-heavy\\nbarge up and down the river by ourselves to meet him? Why couldnât\\nGeorge come and do some work? Why couldnât he have got the day off, and\\ncome down with us? Bank be blowed! What good was he at the bank?\\n\\nâI never see him doing any work there,â continued Harris, âwhenever I go\\nin. He sits behind a bit of glass all day, trying to look as if he was\\ndoing something.\",\n \".\\n\\nâAinât you going to put the boots in?â said Harris.\\n\\nAnd I looked round, and found I had forgotten them. Thatâs just like\\nHarris. He couldnât have said a word until Iâd got the bag shut and\\nstrapped, of course. And George laughedâone of those irritating,\\nsenseless, chuckle-headed, crack-jawed laughs of his. They do make me so\\nwild.\\n\\nI\",\n \"all right, sir?â said the man.\\n\\nâRight it is,â we answered; and with Harris at the sculls and I at the\\ntiller-lines, and Montmorency, unhappy and deeply suspicious, in the\\nprow, out we shot on to the waters which, for a fortnight, were to be our\\nhome.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER VI.\\n\\n\\nKingston.âInstructive remarks on early English history.âInstructive\\nobservations on carved oak and life in general.â\",\n \"informant;\\nâbecause they are the only two inns in the place.â\\n\\nâNo other inns!â exclaimed Harris.\\n\\nâNone,â replied the man.\\n\\nâWhat on earth are we to do?â cried Harris.\\n\\nThen George spoke up. He said Harris and I could get an hotel built for\\nus, if we liked, and have some people made to put in. For his part, he\\nwas going back to the Stag.\\n\\nThe greatest minds never\",\n \"City, so\\nhe explained. Harris, who is callous in his nature, and not prone to\\npity, said:\\n\\nâAh! and now you are going to have a hard time on the river for a change;\\nchange is good for everyone. Out you get!â\\n\\nHe could not in conscienceânot even Georgeâs conscienceâobject, though he\\ndid suggest that, perhaps, it would be better for him to stop in the\\nboat, and get tea ready, while Harris and I towed, because getting tea\"\n ],\n [\n \"one or two of them run down now and then, if I had\\nmy way, just to teach them all a lesson.\\n\\nThe river becomes very lovely from a little above Reading. The railway\\nrather spoils it near Tilehurst, but from Mapledurham up to Streatley it\\nis glorious. A little above Mapledurham lock you pass Hardwick House,\\nwhere Charles I. played bowls. The neighbourhood of Pangbourne, where\\nthe quaint little Swan Inn stands, must be as familiar to the _habitues_\\nof\",\n \"a demoralising effect upon oneâs temper, and this it is, I\\nsuppose, which causes even barge men to be sometimes rude to one another,\\nand to use language which, no doubt, in their calmer moments they regret.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER XIX.\\n\\n\\nOxford.âMontmorencyâs idea of Heaven.âThe hired up-river boat, its\\nbeauties and advantages.âThe âPride of the Thames.ââThe weather\\nchanges\",\n \"steadily up stream for the last hour and a half; âwhy, Jim Biffles\\nand Jack and I, last season, pulled up from Marlow to Goring in one\\nafternoonânever stopped once. Do you remember that, Jack?â\\n\\nJack, who has made himself a bed up in the prow of all the rugs and coats\\nhe can collect, and who has been lying there asleep for the last two\\nhours, partially wakes up on being thus appealed to, and recollects all\\nabout the matter, and also remem\",\n \"by barges; and it also affords plenty of\\nopportunity for acquiring the most prompt and graceful method of lying\\ndown flat at the bottom of the boat so as to avoid being chucked out into\\nthe river by passing tow-lines.\\n\\nBut it does not give you style. It was not till I came to the Thames\\nthat I got style. My style of rowing is very much admired now. People\\nsay it is so quaint.\\n\\nGeorge never went near the water until he was sixteen. Then he and eight\\nother gentlemen of\",\n \"just another five minutesâ nearly so much,\\nlying wrapped up in a rug on the boards of a boat, with a Gladstone bag\\nfor a pillow, as one does in a featherbed. We had finished breakfast,\\nand were through Clifton Lock by half-past eight.\\n\\nFrom Clifton to Culham the river banks are flat, monotonous, and\\nuninteresting, but, after you get through Culhalm Lockâthe coldest and\\ndeepest lock on the riverâthe landscape improves.\\n\\nAt Ab\",\n \"its\\nbeauties and advantages.âThe âPride of the Thames.ââThe weather\\nchanges.âThe river under different aspects.âNot a cheerful\\nevening.âYearnings for the unattainable.âThe cheery chat goes\\nround.âGeorge performs upon the banjo.âA mournful melody.âAnother wet\\nday.âFlight.âA little supper and a toast.\\n\\n[Picture\",\n \"through Culhalm Lockâthe coldest and\\ndeepest lock on the riverâthe landscape improves.\\n\\nAt Abingdon, the river passes by the streets. Abingdon is a typical\\ncountry town of the smaller orderâquiet, eminently respectable, clean,\\nand desperately dull. It prides itself on being old, but whether it can\\ncompare in this respect with Wallingford and Dorchester seems doubtful.\\nA famous abbey stood here once, and within what is left of its sanctified\\nwalls they brew bitter\",\n \"of the river; but we found out after a\\nwhile, and separated ourselves.\\n\\nHarris, however, said he had done enough for a bit, and proposed that I\\nshould take a turn; so, as we were in, I got out and took the tow-line,\\nand ran the boat on past Hampton Court. What a dear old wall that is\\nthat runs along by the river there! I never pass it without feeling\\nbetter for the sight of it. Such a mellow, bright, sweet old wall; what\\na charming picture it would make, with the\",\n \"from which go forth those demons of the\\nriverâsteam-launches. The _London Journal_ duke always has his âlittle\\nplaceâ at Maidenhead; and the heroine of the three-volume novel always\\ndines there when she goes out on the spree with somebody elseâs husband.\\n\\n [Picture: River scene]\\n\\nWe went through Maidenhead quickly, and then eased up, and took leisurely\\nthat grand reach beyond Boulterâs and Cookham locks\",\n \"works show.\\n\\nShiplake is a pretty village, but it cannot be seen from the river, being\\nupon the hill. Tennyson was married in Shiplake Church.\\n\\nThe river up to Sonning winds in and out through many islands, and is\\nvery placid, hushed, and lonely. Few folk, except at twilight, a pair or\\ntwo of rustic lovers, walk along its banks. âArry and Lord Fitznoodle\\nhave been left behind at Henley, and dismal, dirty Reading is not\",\n \"est stretch of all the\\nriver, and lingeringly we slowly drew our little boat away from its deep\\npeace.\\n\\nWe pulled up in the backwater, just below Cookham, and had tea; and, when\\nwe were through the lock, it was evening. A stiffish breeze had sprung\\nupâin our favour, for a wonder; for, as a rule on the river, the wind is\\nalways dead against you whatever way you go. It is against you in the\\nmorning, when you start for a dayâs trip, and you pull\",\n \"ncy] The only one who was not struck with the\\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\\nMontmorency.\\n\\nâItâs all very well for you fellows,â he says; âyou like it, but _I_\\ndonât. Thereâs nothing for me to do. Scenery is not in my line, and I\\ndonât smoke. If I see a rat, you wonât stop; and\",\n \"and we got into the boat and\\nrowed away from the spot, and never paused till we reached Maidenhead.\\n\\nMaidenhead itself is too snobby to be pleasant. It is the haunt of the\\nriver swell and his overdressed female companion. It is the town of\\nshowy hotels, patronised chiefly by dudes and ballet girls. It is the\\nwitchâs kitchen from which go forth those demons of the\\nriverâsteam-launches. The _London Journal_ duke always has his â\",\n \".\\n\\nThere are also tombs of note in the church, and I was afraid I should\\nnever get Harris past them; but he didnât seem to think of them, and we\\nwent on. Above the bridge the river winds tremendously. This makes it\\nlook picturesque; but it irritates you from a towing or sculling point of\\nview, and causes argument between the man who is pulling and the man who\\nis steering.\\n\\nYou pass Oatlands Park on the right bank here. It is a famous old place.\\nHenry VIII\",\n \" In this way we made nine miles, and\\npulled up for the night a little below Dayâs Lock.\\n\\nI cannot honestly say that we had a merry evening. The rain poured down\\nwith quiet persistency. Everything in the boat was damp and clammy.\\nSupper was not a success. Cold veal pie, when you donât feel hungry, is\\napt to cloy. I felt I wanted whitebait and a cutlet; Harris babbled of\\nsoles and white-sauce, and passed the remains of\",\n \"a rather large place for a riverside town. As\\nwith all riverside places, only the tiniest corner of it comes down to\\nthe water, so that from the boat you might fancy it was a village of some\\nhalf-dozen houses, all told. Windsor and Abingdon are the only towns\\nbetween London and Oxford that you can really see anything of from the\\nstream. All the others hide round corners, and merely peep at the river\\ndown one street: my thanks to them for being so considerate, and leaving\\nthe river-banks to woods and fields\",\n \"peep at the river\\ndown one street: my thanks to them for being so considerate, and leaving\\nthe river-banks to woods and fields and water-works.\\n\\nEven Reading, though it does its best to spoil and sully and make hideous\\nas much of the river as it can reach, is good-natured enough to keep its\\nugly face a good deal out of sight.\\n\\nCæsar, of course, had a little place at Waltonâa camp, or an\\nentrenchment, or something of that sort. C\",\n \"River scene]\\n\\nAnd when they reached St. Albans, there would be that wretched couple,\\nkissing under the Abbey walls. Then these folks would go and be pirates\\nuntil the marriage was over.\\n\\nFrom Picnic Point to Old Windsor Lock is a delightful bit of the river.\\nA shady road, dotted here and there with dainty little cottages, runs by\\nthe bank up to the âBells of Ouseley,â a picturesque inn, as most\\nup-river inns are, and a\",\n \"full of life, and yet so\\npeaceful, that, early in the day though it was, I felt myself being\\ndreamily lulled off into a musing fit.\\n\\nI mused on Kingston, or âKyningestun,â as it was once called in the days\\nwhen Saxon âkingesâ were crowned there. Great Cæsar crossed the river\\nthere, and the Roman legions camped upon its sloping uplands. Cæsar,\\nlike, in later years\",\n \"up to Staines, and we\\nhad taken the boat from there, and it seemed that we were dragging fifty\\ntons after us, and were walking forty miles. It was half-past seven when\\nwe were through, and we all got in, and sculled up close to the left\\nbank, looking out for a spot to haul up in.\\n\\nWe had originally intended to go on to Magna Charta Island, a sweetly\\npretty part of the river, where it winds through a soft, green valley,\\nand to camp in one of the many picturesque inlets to\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\nThen we had to find the rule and the string again, and a new hole was\\nmade; and, about midnight, the picture would be upâvery crooked and\\ninsecure, the wall for yards round looking as if it had been smoothed\\ndown with a rake, and everybody dead beat and wretchedâexcept Uncle\\nPodger.\\n\\nâThere you are,â he would say, stepping heavily off the chair on to the\\ncharwomanâs corns, and surveying the mess he had made with evident pride.\\nâ\",\n \"other people.\\n\\nHe always reminds me of my poor Uncle Podger. You never saw such a\\ncommotion up and down a house, in all your life, as when my Uncle Podger\\nundertook to do a job. A picture would have come home from the\\nframe-makerâs, and be standing in the dining-room, waiting to be put up;\\nand Aunt Podger would ask what was to be done with it, and Uncle Podger\\nwould say:\\n\\nâOh, you leave that to _me_. Donât\",\n \"with it, and Uncle Podger\\nwould say:\\n\\nâOh, you leave that to _me_. Donât you, any of you, worry yourselves\\nabout that. _Iâll_ do all that.â\\n\\nAnd then he would take off his coat, and begin. He would send the girl\\nout for sixpenâorth of nails, and then one of the boys after her to tell\\nher what size to get; and, from that, he would gradually work down, and\\nstart the whole house.\\n\",\n \"first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery catalogue,\\nGeorge, and somebody give me a bit of pencil, and then Iâll make out a\\nlist.â\\n\\nThatâs Harris all overâso ready to take the burden of everything himself,\\nand put it on the backs of other people.\\n\\nHe always reminds me of my poor Uncle Podger. You never saw such a\\ncommotion up and down a house, in\",\n \"Maria would mildly observe that, next time Uncle Podger was going to\\nhammer a nail into the wall, she hoped heâd let her know in time, so that\\nshe could make arrangements to go and spend a week with her mother while\\nit was being done.\\n\\nâOh! you women, you make such a fuss over everything,â Uncle Podger would\\nreply, picking himself up. âWhy, I _like_ doing a little job of this\\nsort.â\\n\\n [Picture: Uncle Podger admiring\",\n \"time, and at the critical moment, when\\nthe old fool was leaning over the chair at an angle of forty-five, and\\ntrying to reach a point three inches beyond what was possible for him to\\nreach, the string would slip, and down he would slide on to the piano, a\\nreally fine musical effect being produced by the suddenness with which\\nhis head and body struck all the notes at the same time.\\n\\nAnd Aunt Maria would say that she would not allow the children to stand\\nround and hear such language.\\n\\nAt last, Uncle Podger would get the spot fixed again,\",\n \"say that she would not allow the children to stand\\nround and hear such language.\\n\\nAt last, Uncle Podger would get the spot fixed again, and put the point\\nof the nail on it with his left hand, and take the hammer in his right\\nhand. And, with the first blow, he would smash his thumb, and drop the\\nhammer, with a yell, on somebodyâs toes.\\n\\nAunt Maria would mildly observe that, next time Uncle Podger was going to\\nhammer a nail into the wall, she hoped heâd let\",\n \"thirty-one\\nand three-eighths inches from the corner, and would try to do it in his\\nhead, and go mad.\\n\\nAnd we would all try to do it in our heads, and all arrive at different\\nresults, and sneer at one another. And in the general row, the original\\nnumber would be forgotten, and Uncle Podger would have to measure it\\nagain.\\n\\nHe would use a bit of string this time, and at the critical moment, when\\nthe old fool was leaning over the chair at an angle of forty-five, and\\ntrying to reach\",\n \"Why, I _like_ doing a little job of this\\nsort.â\\n\\n [Picture: Uncle Podger admiring his work]\\n\\nAnd then he would have another try, and, at the second blow, the nail\\nwould go clean through the plaster, and half the hammer after it, and\\nUncle Podger be precipitated against the wall with force nearly\\nsufficient to flatten his nose.\\n\\nThen we had to find the rule and the string again, and a new hole was\\nmade; and, about midnight, the picture would be upâ\",\n \"\\nWe had been sitting huddled up in our rugs while George had been telling\\nme this true story, and on his finishing it I set to work to wake up\\nHarris with a scull. The third prod did it: and he turned over on the\\nother side, and said he would be down in a minute, and that he would have\\nhis lace-up boots. We soon let him know where he was, however, by the\\naid of the hitcher, and he sat up suddenly, sending Montmorency, who had\\nbeen sleeping the sleep of\",\n \"âs foot, if\\nhe had to move about at all within ten yards of where George was sitting,\\nsuggesting that George never ought to come into an ordinary sized boat\\nwith feet that length, and advising him to hang them over the side, as he\\nwould have done before supper, now said: âOh, Iâm so sorry, old chap; I\\nhope I havenât hurt you.â\\n\\n[Picture: Smoking pipes] And George said: âNot at all;â\",\n \"a pleasure. Sure you donât want anything,\\nnow?â\\n\\nMONTMORENCY (_still backing_): âNot at all, thanksânot at allâvery kind\\nof you. Good morning.â\\n\\nTHE CAT: âGood-morning.â\\n\\nThen the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what\\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\\nan unimportant position in the\",\n \"long day.\\n\\nThe order of the procession was as follows:â\\n\\n Montmorency, carrying a stick.\\n Two disreputable-looking curs, friends of Montmorencyâs.\\n George, carrying coats and rugs, and smoking a short pipe.\\n Harris, trying to walk with easy grace,\\n while carrying a bulged-out Gladstone bag in one hand\\n and a bottle of lime-juice in the other.\\n Greengrocerâs boy and bakerâ\",\n \"42âs a-moving.â\\n\\nThe grocerâs boy came across, and took up a position on the other side of\\nthe step. Then the young gentleman from the boot-shop stopped, and\\njoined Biggsâs boy; while the empty-can superintendent from âThe Blue\\nPostsâ took up an independent position on the curb.\\n\\nâThey ainât a-going to starve, are they?â said the gentleman from the\\nboot-\",\n \",â I replied, getting roused; âI do not want to see\\ntombsânot your tombs. Why should I? We have graves of our own, our\\nfamily has. Why my uncle Podger has a tomb in Kensal Green Cemetery,\\nthat is the pride of all that country-side; and my grandfatherâs vault at\\nBow is capable of accommodating eight visitors, while my great-aunt Susan\\nhas a brick grave in Finchley Churchyard, with a headstone with a\\ncoff\",\n \"â he said, âthere she goes, with two poundsâ worth of\\nfood on board that belongs to me, and that I havenât had.â\\n\\nHe said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have\\nput it straight.\\n\\nSo I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own\\naccount. I was never queer. But I was afraid for George. George said\\nhe should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise\\nHarr\",\n \"â he exclaimed, indignantly.\\n\\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\\n\\nâStand still, canât you!â roared George, flying after him.\\n\\nAnd they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.\\n\\nMontmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorencyâs ambition in life, is\\nto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he\\nparticularly is not wanted\",\n \"the other crawling in from the opposite side of the compass, and\\nlying with his feet on the pillow.\\n\\nThere was silence for a moment, and then Georgeâs father said:\\n\\nâJoe!â\\n\\nâWhatâs the matter, Tom?â replied Joeâs voice from the other end of the\\nbed.\\n\\nâWhy, thereâs a man in my bed,â said Georgeâs father; âhereâs his feet on\\n\",\n \"you so much,â murmured George, looking about him. âWhereâwhere do\\nyou keep it?â\\n\\nâItâs always in the same place my boy,â was the stolid reply: âjust\\nbehind you.â\\n\\nâI donât see it,â said George, turning round.\\n\\nâWhy, bless us, whereâs your eyes?â was the manâs comment, as he twisted\\n\",\n \"shouted in his ear,\\nand he awoke.\\n\\nâWasermarrer?â he observed, sitting up.\\n\\nâGet up, you fat-headed chunk!â roared Harris. âItâs quarter to ten.â\\n\\nâWhat!â he shrieked, jumping out of bed into the bath; âWho the thunder\\nput this thing here?â\\n\\nWe told him he must have been a fool not to see the bath.\\n\\nWe finished\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\nThen we had to find the rule and the string again, and a new hole was\\nmade; and, about midnight, the picture would be upâvery crooked and\\ninsecure, the wall for yards round looking as if it had been smoothed\\ndown with a rake, and everybody dead beat and wretchedâexcept Uncle\\nPodger.\\n\\nâThere you are,â he would say, stepping heavily off the chair on to the\\ncharwomanâs corns, and surveying the mess he had made with evident pride.\\nâ\",\n \"Why, I _like_ doing a little job of this\\nsort.â\\n\\n [Picture: Uncle Podger admiring his work]\\n\\nAnd then he would have another try, and, at the second blow, the nail\\nwould go clean through the plaster, and half the hammer after it, and\\nUncle Podger be precipitated against the wall with force nearly\\nsufficient to flatten his nose.\\n\\nThen we had to find the rule and the string again, and a new hole was\\nmade; and, about midnight, the picture would be upâ\",\n \"time, and at the critical moment, when\\nthe old fool was leaning over the chair at an angle of forty-five, and\\ntrying to reach a point three inches beyond what was possible for him to\\nreach, the string would slip, and down he would slide on to the piano, a\\nreally fine musical effect being produced by the suddenness with which\\nhis head and body struck all the notes at the same time.\\n\\nAnd Aunt Maria would say that she would not allow the children to stand\\nround and hear such language.\\n\\nAt last, Uncle Podger would get the spot fixed again,\",\n \"other people.\\n\\nHe always reminds me of my poor Uncle Podger. You never saw such a\\ncommotion up and down a house, in all your life, as when my Uncle Podger\\nundertook to do a job. A picture would have come home from the\\nframe-makerâs, and be standing in the dining-room, waiting to be put up;\\nand Aunt Podger would ask what was to be done with it, and Uncle Podger\\nwould say:\\n\\nâOh, you leave that to _me_. Donât\",\n \"with it, and Uncle Podger\\nwould say:\\n\\nâOh, you leave that to _me_. Donât you, any of you, worry yourselves\\nabout that. _Iâll_ do all that.â\\n\\nAnd then he would take off his coat, and begin. He would send the girl\\nout for sixpenâorth of nails, and then one of the boys after her to tell\\nher what size to get; and, from that, he would gradually work down, and\\nstart the whole house.\\n\",\n \"Maria would mildly observe that, next time Uncle Podger was going to\\nhammer a nail into the wall, she hoped heâd let her know in time, so that\\nshe could make arrangements to go and spend a week with her mother while\\nit was being done.\\n\\nâOh! you women, you make such a fuss over everything,â Uncle Podger would\\nreply, picking himself up. âWhy, I _like_ doing a little job of this\\nsort.â\\n\\n [Picture: Uncle Podger admiring\",\n \"the chair, and the\\ncandle had been brought, he would have another go, the whole family,\\nincluding the girl and the charwoman, standing round in a semi-circle,\\nready to help. Two people would have to hold the chair, and a third\\nwould help him up on it, and hold him there, and a fourth would hand him\\na nail, and a fifth would pass him up the hammer, and he would take hold\\nof the nail, and drop it.\\n\\nâThere!â he would say, in an injured tone, â\",\n \"say that she would not allow the children to stand\\nround and hear such language.\\n\\nAt last, Uncle Podger would get the spot fixed again, and put the point\\nof the nail on it with his left hand, and take the hammer in his right\\nhand. And, with the first blow, he would smash his thumb, and drop the\\nhammer, with a yell, on somebodyâs toes.\\n\\nAunt Maria would mildly observe that, next time Uncle Podger was going to\\nhammer a nail into the wall, she hoped heâd let\",\n \"thirty-one\\nand three-eighths inches from the corner, and would try to do it in his\\nhead, and go mad.\\n\\nAnd we would all try to do it in our heads, and all arrive at different\\nresults, and sneer at one another. And in the general row, the original\\nnumber would be forgotten, and Uncle Podger would have to measure it\\nagain.\\n\\nHe would use a bit of string this time, and at the critical moment, when\\nthe old fool was leaning over the chair at an angle of forty-five, and\\ntrying to reach\",\n \"m., and\\nthen there remained the hampers to do. Harris said that we should be\\nwanting to start in less than twelve hoursâ time, and thought that he and\\nGeorge had better do the rest; and I agreed and sat down, and they had a\\ngo.\\n\\nThey began in a light-hearted spirit, evidently intending to show me how\\nto do it. I made no comment; I only waited. When George is hanged,\\nHarris will be the worst packer in this world; and I looked at the piles\\n\",\n \"for a bit of picture-cord; and\\nTom!âwhereâs Tom?âTom, you come here; I shall want you to hand me up the\\npicture.â\\n\\nAnd then he would lift up the picture, and drop it, and it would come out\\nof the frame, and he would try to save the glass, and cut himself; and\\nthen he would spring round the room, looking for his handkerchief. He\\ncould not find his handkerchief, because it was in the pocket of the coat\\nhe had taken off\",\n \"first thing to settle is what to take with us. Now, you get a\\nbit of paper and write down, J., and you get the grocery catalogue,\\nGeorge, and somebody give me a bit of pencil, and then Iâll make out a\\nlist.â\\n\\nThatâs Harris all overâso ready to take the burden of everything himself,\\nand put it on the backs of other people.\\n\\nHe always reminds me of my poor Uncle Podger. You never saw such a\\ncommotion up and down a house, in\",\n \"\\nsome mysterious process or other he succeeded, after ten minutes of\\nsuperhuman effort, in getting himself completely rolled up in it. He was\\nso firmly wrapped round and tucked in and folded over, that he could not\\nget out. He, of course, made frantic struggles for freedomâthe\\nbirthright of every Englishman,âand, in doing so (I learned this\\nafterwards), knocked over George; and then George, swearing at Harris,\\nbegan to struggle too, and got _himself_ entangled and rolled up.\\n\\n[P\",\n \"up the river thinks a thing, he says it.\\n\\nâWhat have you been trying to do with it, make a fishing-net of it?\\nYouâve made a nice mess you have; why couldnât you wind it up properly,\\nyou silly dummy?â he grunts from time to time as he struggles wildly with\\nit, and lays it out flat on the tow-path, and runs round and round it,\\ntrying to find the end.\\n\\nOn the other hand, the man who wound it up thinks the whole cause of\",\n \"of\\nthe mark he had made on the wall, where the nail was to go in, and each\\nof us had to get up on the chair, beside him, and see if we could find\\nit; and we would each discover it in a different place, and he would call\\nus all fools, one after another, and tell us to get down. And he would\\ntake the rule, and re-measure, and find that he wanted half thirty-one\\nand three-eighths inches from the corner, and would try to do it in his\\nhead, and go mad.\\n\\n\",\n \" I had looped it\\nround slowly and cautiously, and tied it up in the middle, and folded it\\nin two, and laid it down gently at the bottom of the boat. Harris had\\nlifted it up scientifically, and had put it into Georgeâs hand. George\\nhad taken it firmly, and held it away from him, and had begun to unravel\\nit as if he were taking the swaddling clothes off a new-born infant; and,\\nbefore he had unwound a dozen yards, the thing was more like a badly-made\\ndoor\",\n \"\\nstop where they were, and he would come to them. They huddled together,\\nand waited; and he climbed down, and came in.\\n\\nHe was a young keeper, as luck would have it, and new to the business;\\nand when he got in, he couldnât find them, and he wandered about, trying\\nto get to them, and then _he_ got lost. They caught sight of him, every\\nnow and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see\\nthem, and rush to get to them\",\n \"to the bank\\nand shook it. There was no tin-opener to be found.\\n\\nThen Harris tried to open the tin with a pocket-knife, and broke the\\nknife and cut himself badly; and George tried a pair of scissors, and the\\nscissors flew up, and nearly put his eye out. While they were dressing\\ntheir wounds, I tried to make a hole in the thing with the spiky end of\\nthe hitcher, and the hitcher slipped and jerked me out between the boat\\nand the bank into two feet of mud\",\n \"\\ndelicate parts of the body; and, while we were wrestling with one side of\\nthe hoop, and endeavouring to persuade it to do its duty, the other side\\nwould come behind us in a cowardly manner, and hit us over the head.\\n\\nWe got them fixed at last, and then all that was to be done was to\\narrange the covering over them. George unrolled it, and fastened one end\\nover the nose of the boat. Harris stood in the middle to take it from\\nGeorge and roll it on to me, and\",\n \"The nail would be found at last, but by that time he would have lost the\\nhammer.\\n\\nâWhereâs the hammer? What did I do with the hammer? Great heavens!\\nSeven of you, gaping round there, and you donât know what I did with the\\nhammer!â\\n\\nWe would find the hammer for him, and then he would have lost sight of\\nthe mark he had made on the wall, where the nail was to go in, and each\\nof us had to get up on the chair,\"\n ],\n [\n \"ât had any dinner). It seems to suit everybody, however, which is\\ngreatly to its credit.\\n\\nIt suited me to a âTâ too, and Harris and I both said it was a good idea\\nof Georgeâs; and we said it in a tone that seemed to somehow imply that\\nwe were surprised that George should have come out so sensible.\\n\\n[Picture: Montmorency] The only one who was not struck with the\\nsuggestion was Montmorency. He never did care for the river, did\",\n \"a pleasure. Sure you donât want anything,\\nnow?â\\n\\nMONTMORENCY (_still backing_): âNot at all, thanksânot at allâvery kind\\nof you. Good morning.â\\n\\nTHE CAT: âGood-morning.â\\n\\nThen the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what\\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\\nan unimportant position in the\",\n \"\\n\\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy; and if a trifle low, so\\nmuch the jollier. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was\\nan angel sent upon the earth, for some reason withheld from mankind, in\\nthe shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of\\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-\",\n \"cy, who had evinced great\\ninterest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and\\nthoughtful air, reappearing, a few minutes afterwards, with a dead\\nwater-rat in his mouth, which he evidently wished to present as his\\ncontribution to the dinner; whether in a sarcastic spirit, or with a\\ngenuine desire to assist, I cannot say.\\n\\nWe had a discussion as to whether the rat should go in or not. Harris\\nsaid that he thought it would be all right, mixed up with the other\\nthings\",\n \"â he exclaimed, indignantly.\\n\\nâWhere?â cried Harris, spinning round.\\n\\nâStand still, canât you!â roared George, flying after him.\\n\\nAnd they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.\\n\\nMontmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorencyâs ambition in life, is\\nto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he\\nparticularly is not wanted\",\n \". At the first sound the\\nkettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threatening\\nattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and it\\nup and spit at him.\\n\\n[Picture: Montmorency and the kettle] âAh! would ye!â growled\\nMontmorency, showing his teeth; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty\",\n \"venture his nose outside the door for over two hours on a cold night; and\\nhad learned that the gardener, unknown to myself, had won thirty\\nshillings by backing him to kill rats against time, then I began to think\\nthat maybe theyâd let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.\\n\\nTo hang about a stable, and collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs\\nto be found in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâ\",\n \"mon, and he emptied that into the pot.\\n\\nHe said that was the advantage of Irish stew: you got rid of such a lot\\nof things. I fished out a couple of eggs that had got cracked, and put\\nthose in. George said they would thicken the gravy.\\n\\nI forget the other ingredients, but I know nothing was wasted; and I\\nremember that, towards the end, Montmorency, who had evinced great\\ninterest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and\\nthoughtful air, reappearing\",\n \"; âIâll teach ye to cheek a hard-working,\\nrespectable dog; ye miserable, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye.\\nCome on!â\\n\\nAnd he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout.\\n\\nThen, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp, and\\nMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round the\\nisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now and\\nthen to\",\n \"as for the gravy, it was a poemâa\\nlittle too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious.\\n\\nWe finished up with tea and cherry tart. Montmorency had a fight with\\nthe kettle during tea-time, and came off a poor second.\\n\\nThroughout the trip, he had manifested great curiosity concerning the\\nkettle. He would sit and watch it, as it boiled, with a puzzled\\nexpression, and would try and rouse it every now and then by growling at\\nit\",\n \"in the town, and lead them out to march round the slums to\\nfight other disreputable dogs, is Montmorencyâs idea of âlife;â and so,\\nas I before observed, he gave to the suggestion of inns, and pubs., and\\nhotels his most emphatic approbation.\\n\\nHaving thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all\\nfour of us, the only thing left to discuss was what we should take with\\nus; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said heâ\",\n \"the clank of cutlery and crockery, and the\\nsteady grinding of four sets of molars. At the end of five-and-thirty\\nminutes, Harris said, âAh!â and took his left leg out from under him and\\nput his right one there instead.\\n\\nFive minutes afterwards, George said, âAh!â too, and threw his plate out\\non the bank; and, three minutes later than that, Montmorency gave the\\nfirst sign of contentment he had exhibited since we had started,\",\n \"morency, fitting what\\nhe calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up\\nan unimportant position in the rear.\\n\\nTo this day, if you say the word âCats!â to Montmorency, he will visibly\\nshrink and look up piteously at you, as if to say:\\n\\nâPlease donât.â\\n\\nWe did our marketing after breakfast, and revictualled the boat for three\\ndays. George said we ought to take vegetablesâ\",\n \"a sort of\\nOh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-do-something-to-\\nmake-it-better-and-nobler expression about Montmorency that has been\\nknown to bring the tears into the eyes of pious old ladies and gentlemen.\\n\\nWhen first he came to live at my expense, I never thought I should be\\nable to get him to stop long. I used to sit down and look at him, as he\\nsat on the rug and looked up at me,\",\n \"âthe sort of cry\\nCromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hillâand flew\\nafter his prey.\\n\\nHis victim was a large black Tom. I never saw a larger cat, nor a more\\ndisreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears,\\nand a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long,\\nsinewy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\\n\\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of\",\n \"you are all three speechless, owing to having caught\\nsevere colds in the night; you also feel very quarrelsome, and you swear\\nat each other in hoarse whispers during the whole of breakfast time.\\n\\nWe therefore decided that we would sleep out on fine nights; and hotel\\nit, and inn it, and pub. it, like respectable folks, when it was wet, or\\nwhen we felt inclined for a change.\\n\\nMontmorency hailed this compromise with much approval. He does not revel\\nin romantic solitude. Give him something noisy;\",\n \"wy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.\\n\\nMontmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of twenty miles an hour;\\nbut the cat did not hurry upâdid not seem to have grasped the idea that\\nits life was in danger. It trotted quietly on until its would-be\\nassassin was within a yard of it, and then it turned round and sat down\\nin the middle of the road, and looked at Montmorency with a gentle,\\ninquiring expression, that said:\\n\\nâ\",\n \", coming back, Montmorency made an awful ass\\nof himself. The only subject on which Montmorency and I have any serious\\ndifference of opinion is cats. I like cats; Montmorency does not.\\n\\n[Picture: Cat] When I meet a cat, I say, âPoor Pussy!â and stop down and\\ntickle the side of its head; and the cat sticks up its tail in a rigid,\\ncast-iron manner, arches its back, and wipes its nose up against my\\ntrousers; and\",\n \"brought us up to Marlow.\\n\\nAnd at Marlow we left the boat by the bridge, and went and put up for the\\nnight at the âCrown.â\\n\\n [Picture: The boat]\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nCHAPTER XIII.\\n\\n\\nMarlow.âBisham Abbey.âThe Medmenham Monks.âMontmorency thinks he will\\nmurder an old Tom cat.âBut eventually decides that he will let it\\nlive.âShameful conduct of\",\n \"long day.\\n\\nThe order of the procession was as follows:â\\n\\n Montmorency, carrying a stick.\\n Two disreputable-looking curs, friends of Montmorencyâs.\\n George, carrying coats and rugs, and smoking a short pipe.\\n Harris, trying to walk with easy grace,\\n while carrying a bulged-out Gladstone bag in one hand\\n and a bottle of lime-juice in the other.\\n Greengrocerâs boy and bakerâ\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["After rejecting other ideas, what kind of trip did the men decide to take?","In which city with the men end their trip?","What is the name of J.'s dog?","What is J.'s real name?","How do J. and Harris persuade a train driver to bring them to Kingston?","What did Montmorency carry in his mouth as his contribution to dinner?","Which era does this story take place?","From which train station do J. and Harris depart?","Why doesn't George begin the trip with J. and Harris?","Was kind of dog is Montmorency?","What is J's real name? ","What do the men say they are suffering from? ","What river do the guys decide to travel on? ","When the guys go to Kingston by train, which person has to work that day?","What station are the guys not able to find the right train? ","Where do J and Harris meet George further up the river? ","Who talks about the difficulty in playing bagpipes? ","Who rejects the idea of a country stay? ","What relative does J reference regarding bad experiences on sea trips? ","What is Montmorency's relationship to Jerome?","What type of dog is Montmorency?","What malady do Jerome and Jerome's friends suffer from?","What river do the men decide to take a trip down?","What train station do Jerome and Harris find inextricably confusing?","Where do Jerome and Harris meet up with George after leaving for KIngston?","What subjects make up most of Jerome's observations while travelling down the River Thames?","What is Podger's relationship to Jerome?","What is Podger attempting to hang with lack of success?","What does Montmorency bring to dinner?"],"string":"[\n \"After rejecting other ideas, what kind of trip did the men decide to take?\",\n \"In which city with the men end their trip?\",\n \"What is the name of J.'s dog?\",\n \"What is J.'s real name?\",\n \"How do J. and Harris persuade a train driver to bring them to Kingston?\",\n \"What did Montmorency carry in his mouth as his contribution to dinner?\",\n \"Which era does this story take place?\",\n \"From which train station do J. and Harris depart?\",\n \"Why doesn't George begin the trip with J. and Harris?\",\n \"Was kind of dog is Montmorency?\",\n \"What is J's real name? \",\n \"What do the men say they are suffering from? \",\n \"What river do the guys decide to travel on? \",\n \"When the guys go to Kingston by train, which person has to work that day?\",\n \"What station are the guys not able to find the right train? \",\n \"Where do J and Harris meet George further up the river? \",\n \"Who talks about the difficulty in playing bagpipes? \",\n \"Who rejects the idea of a country stay? \",\n \"What relative does J reference regarding bad experiences on sea trips? \",\n \"What is Montmorency's relationship to Jerome?\",\n \"What type of dog is Montmorency?\",\n \"What malady do Jerome and Jerome's friends suffer from?\",\n \"What river do the men decide to take a trip down?\",\n \"What train station do Jerome and Harris find inextricably confusing?\",\n \"Where do Jerome and Harris meet up with George after leaving for KIngston?\",\n \"What subjects make up most of Jerome's observations while travelling down the River Thames?\",\n \"What is Podger's relationship to Jerome?\",\n \"What is Podger attempting to hang with lack of success?\",\n \"What does Montmorency bring to dinner?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["A boat ride up the River Thames","A boating holiday."],["Oxford","Oxford"],["Montmorency","Montmorency"],["Jerome","Jerome"],["They bribe him.","They bribe him"],["A dead water-rat","A water rat"],["Victorian","The late 1800's."],["Waterloo Station","Waterloo"],["He has to work.","He has to work"],["A fox terrier","Fox terrier"],["Jerome","Jerome"],["Overwork","Overwork"],["Thames river","Thames"],["George","George"],["Waterloo station","Waterloo Station."],["Weybridge","Weybridge."],["J","Jerome"],["Harris","Harris"],["His brother-in-law","brother-in-law and friend"],["Montmorency is Jerome's dog.","He is Jerome's fox terrier."],["A Fox Terrier.","fox terrier"],["Overwork.","Overwork."],["The River Thames.","River Thames."],["Waterloo Station.","Waterloo"],["Weybridge.","Weybridge"],["Fishing and Boating.","Landmarks and villages"],["Podger is Jerome's uncle.","Uncle"],["A painting.","A picture."],["A river rat.","A dead water rat."]],"string":"[\n [\n \"A boat ride up the River Thames\",\n \"A boating holiday.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Oxford\",\n \"Oxford\"\n ],\n [\n \"Montmorency\",\n \"Montmorency\"\n ],\n [\n \"Jerome\",\n \"Jerome\"\n ],\n [\n \"They bribe him.\",\n \"They bribe him\"\n ],\n [\n \"A dead water-rat\",\n \"A water rat\"\n ],\n [\n \"Victorian\",\n \"The late 1800's.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Waterloo Station\",\n \"Waterloo\"\n ],\n [\n \"He has to work.\",\n \"He has to work\"\n ],\n [\n \"A fox terrier\",\n \"Fox terrier\"\n ],\n [\n \"Jerome\",\n \"Jerome\"\n ],\n [\n \"Overwork\",\n \"Overwork\"\n ],\n [\n \"Thames river\",\n \"Thames\"\n ],\n [\n \"George\",\n \"George\"\n ],\n [\n \"Waterloo station\",\n \"Waterloo Station.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Weybridge\",\n \"Weybridge.\"\n ],\n [\n \"J\",\n \"Jerome\"\n ],\n [\n \"Harris\",\n \"Harris\"\n ],\n [\n \"His brother-in-law\",\n \"brother-in-law and friend\"\n ],\n [\n \"Montmorency is Jerome's dog.\",\n \"He is Jerome's fox terrier.\"\n ],\n [\n \"A Fox Terrier.\",\n \"fox terrier\"\n ],\n [\n \"Overwork.\",\n \"Overwork.\"\n ],\n [\n \"The River Thames.\",\n \"River Thames.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Waterloo Station.\",\n \"Waterloo\"\n ],\n [\n \"Weybridge.\",\n \"Weybridge\"\n ],\n [\n \"Fishing and Boating.\",\n \"Landmarks and villages\"\n ],\n [\n \"Podger is Jerome's uncle.\",\n \"Uncle\"\n ],\n [\n \"A painting.\",\n \"A picture.\"\n ],\n [\n \"A river rat.\",\n \"A dead water rat.\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"e66f82b7832a43751dabfd9dce3180dd28bbd0b3"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":34,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\nbundle).\n\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously","The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the","matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\nan effort and totters after him).\n\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\n\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in","\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\n",".\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\n\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\nfeel as if I were killing you.\n\nANDROCLES. Don't think of","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","ils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.\nThe lion is heard groaning heavily in the jungle.\n\nANDROCLES (whispering) Did you see? A lion.\n\nMEGAERA (despairing) The gods have sent him to punish us because\nyou're a Christian. Take me away, Andy. Save me.\n\nANDROCLES (rising) Meggy: there's one chance for you. It'll take\nhim"," GUTENBERG EBOOK ANDROCLES AND THE LION ***\n\n\n\n\nProduced by Eve Sobol. HTML version by Al Haines.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nANDROCLES AND THE LION\n\nBERNARD SHAW\n\n1912\n\n\n\nPROLOGUE\n\nOverture; forest sounds, roaring of lions, Christian hymn\nfaintly.\n\nA jungle path. A lion's roar, a melancholy suffering roar, comes\nfrom the j","rovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at","of stopping every two miles and saying you won't go another step?\nWe must get on to the next village before night. There are wild\nbeasts in this wood: lions, they say.\n\nMEGAERA. I don't believe a word of it. You are always threatening\nme with wild beasts to make me walk the very soul out of my body\nwhen I can hardly drag one foot before another. We haven't seen a\nsingle lion yet.\n\nANDROCLES. Well, dear, do you want to see one?\n\nMEGAERA (","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad",".\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\n\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\nfeel as if I were killing you.\n\nANDROCLES. Don't think of","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","think?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.\n\nANDROCLES (running in through the passage, screaming with horror\nand hiding his eyes)!!!\n\nLAVINIA. Androcles, Androcles: what's the matter?\n\nANDROCLES. Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me. Something too\ndreadful. Oh! (He crouches by her and hides his face in her robe,\nsobbing).\n\nTHE CALL Boy (rushing through","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\n",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the","rovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in","in the custody of a cohort of the tenth legion. Among\nthese prisoners you will particularly identify an armorer named\nFerrovius, of dangerous character and great personal strength,\nand a Greek tailor reputed to be a sorcerer, by name Androcles.\nYou will add the three to your charge here and march them all to\nthe Coliseum, where you will deliver them into the custody of the\nmaster of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\nyour","(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\nbundle).\n\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\n\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and"],["FERROVIUS (interposing) Touch them, dogs; and we die here, and\ncheat the heathen of their spectacle. (To his fellow Christians)\nBrothers: the great moment has come. That passage is your hill to\nCalvary. Mount it bravely, but meekly; and remember! not a word\nof reproach, not a blow nor a struggle. Go. (They go out through\nthe passage. He turns to Lavinia) Farewell.\n\nLAVINIA. You forget: I must follow before you are cold.\n","\nFERROVIUS. Dog of an apostate. Iscariot!\n\nSPINTHO. I'll repent afterwards. I fully mean to die in the arena\nI'll die a martyr and go to heaven; but not this time, not now,\nnot until my nerves are better. Besides, I'm too young: I want to\nhave just one more good time. (The gladiators laugh at him). Oh,\nwill no one tell me where the altar is? (He dashes into the\npassage and vanishes).\n\nANDROCLES","FERROVIUS (radiant) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering\nand death.\n\nLENTULUS (falling on his knees and bursting into tears) Oh, help\nme. Mother! mother!\n\nFERROVIUS. These tears will water your soul and make it bring\nforth good fruit, my son. God has greatly blessed my efforts at\nconversion. Shall I tell you a miracle--yes, a miracle--wrought\nby me in Cappadocia? A young man--just such a one as you, with\ngold","Ferrovius) You turn the other cheek when you're\nstruck, I'm told.\n\nFERROVIUS (slowly turning his great eyes on him) Yes, by the\ngrace of God, I do, NOW.\n\nLENTULUS. Not that you're a coward, of course; but out of pure\npiety.\n\nFERROVIUS. I fear God more than man; at least I try to.\n\nLENTULUS. Let's see. (He strikes him on the cheek. Androcles\nm","with great difficulty).\n\nTHE CENTURION (to Lavinia) Here are some pals for you. This\nlittle bit is Ferrovius that you talk so much about. (Ferrovius\nturns on him threateningly. The Centurion holds up his left\nforefinger in admonition). Now remember that you're a Christian,\nand that you've got to return good for evil. (Ferrovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent","adiators.\n\nFERROVIUS. It does not hurt a man to kill him.\n\nLAVINIA. Nothing but faith can save you.\n\nFERROVIUS. Faith! Which faith? There are two faiths. There is our\nfaith. And there is the warrior's faith, the faith in fighting,\nthe faith that sees God in the sword. How if that faith should\noverwhelm me?\n\nLAVINIA. You will find your real faith in the hour of trial.\n\nFERROVIUS. That is what I fear. I know","(rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you\nforget.\n\nFERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort) Oh, my temper, my\nwicked temper! (To the Editor, as Lavinia sits down again,\nreassured). Forgive me, brother. My heart was full of wrath: I\nshould have been thinking of your dear precious soul.\n\nTHE EDITOR. Yah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously,\nand goes back to his seat).\n\nFERROVIUS (contin","Metellus follows Lentulus. The Centurion returns to his seat to\nresume his interrupted nap. The deepest awe has settled on the\nspectators. Ferrovius, with a long sigh of happiness, goes to\nLavinia, and offers her his hand.\n\nLAVINIA (taking it) So that is how you convert people, Ferrovius.\n\nFERROVIUS. Yes: there has been a blessing on my work in spite of\nmy unworthiness and my backslidings--all through my wicked,\ndevilish temper.","rovius is a\npowerful, choleric man in the prime of life, with large nostrils,\nstaring eyes, and a thick neck: a man whose sensibilities are\nkeen and violent to the verge of madness. Spintho is a debauchee,\nthe wreck of a good-looking man gone hopelessly to the bad.\nAndrocles is overwhelmed with grief, and is restraining his tears\nwith great difficulty).\n\nTHE CENTURION (to Lavinia) Here are some pals for you. This\nlittle bit is Fer","be put off by a swine like that.\n\nFERROVIUS. Peace, peace: tempt him not. Get thee behind him,\nSatan.\n\nTHE EDITOR (flushing with rage) For two pins I'd take a turn in\nthe arena myself to-day, and pay you out for daring to talk to me\nlike that.\n\nFerrovius springs forward.\n\nLAVINIA (rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you\nforget.\n\nFERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort","something, Ferrovius.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. How about the Pretorian Guard now?\n\nFERROVIUS. In my youth I worshipped Mars, the God of War. I\nturned from him to serve the Christian god; but today the\nChristian god forsook me; and Mars overcame me and took back his\nown. The Christian god is not yet. He will come when Mars and I\nare dust; but meanwhile I must serve the gods that are, not the\nGod that will be. Until then I accept service in the Guard,\n","ebly).\nYou know, I should feel ashamed if I let myself be struck like\nthat, and took it lying down. But then I'm not a Christian: I'm a\nman. (Ferrovius rises impressively and towers over him. Lentulus\nbecomes white with terror; and a shade of green flickers in his\ncheek for a moment).\n\nFERROVIUS (with the calm of a steam hammer) I have not always\nbeen faithful. The first man who struck me as you have just\nstruck me was a stronger man than","rovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at","doubt contrive a happy\nrelease for you. Which is Ferrovius?\n\nFERROVIUS. I am he.\n\nCAESAR. They tell me you can fight.\n\nFERROVIUS. It is easy to fight. I can die, Caesar.\n\nCAESAR. That is still easier, is it not?\n\nFERROVIUS. Not to me, Caesar. Death comes hard to my flesh; and\nfighting comes very easily to my spirit (beating his breast and\nlamenting) O sinner that I am! (He throws","But I'm convinced already that what\nyou said is quite right. I apologize for striking you.\n\nFERROVIUS (greatly pleased) My son: have I softened your heart?\nHas the good seed fallen in a fruitful place? Are your feet\nturning towards a better path?\n\nLENTULUS (abjectly) Yes, yes. There's a great deal in what you\nsay.\n\nFERROVIUS (radiant) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering\nand death.\n\nLENTULUS (fall","strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so a\ngreat clamor is heard from the arena, ending in wild applause.\nThe gladiators listen and look inquiringly at one another).\n\nTHE EDITOR. What's up now?\n\nLAVINIA (to the Captain) What has happened, do you think?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.\n\nANDROCLES (running in through","ROVIUS (starting convulsively) Heaven give me strength!\n\nTHE EDITOR. Aha! That frightens you, does it?\n\nFERROVIUS. Man: there is no terror like the terror of that sound\nto me. When I hear a trumpet or a drum or the clash of steel or\nthe hum of the catapult as the great stone flies, fire runs\nthrough my veins: I feel my blood surge up hot behind my eyes: I\nmust charge: I must strike: I must conquer: Caesar himself will\nnot be safe in his","The gladiators\ndraw their swords nervously.\n\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut off\nthis right hand: it has offended. Ye have swords, my brethren:\nstrike.\n\nLAVINIA. No, no. What have you done, Ferrovius?\n\nFERROVIUS. I know not; but there was blood behind my eyes; and\nthere's blood on my sword. What does that mean?\n\nTHE EMPEROR (enthusiastically, on the landing outside","ah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously,\nand goes back to his seat).\n\nFERROVIUS (continuing) And I forgot it all: I thought of nothing\nbut offering to fight you with one hand tied behind me.\n\nTHE EDITOR (turning pugnaciously) What!\n\nFERROVIUS (on the border line between zeal and ferocity) Oh,\ndon't give way to pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so\neasily. I could--\n\nThey are separated by the Men","his friend, young man. You will see that he\nis taken safely home.\n\nMETELLUS (with awestruck civility) Certainly, sir. I shall do\nwhatever you think best. Most happy to have made your acquaintance,\nI'm sure. You may depend on me. Good evening, sir.\n\nFERROVIUS (with unction) The blessing of heaven upon you and him.\n\nMetellus follows Lentulus. The Centurion returns to his seat to\nresume his interrupted nap. The deepest awe has settled on the"],["arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\n\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\n\nCENTURION. Silence!\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\nImper",") This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\nsuddenness).\n\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\nlike that. (The lion","\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting. (To the Editor) What are you\ndreaming of, man? Send your men in at once.\n\nTHE EDITOR. Yes, Sir: it's these Christians hanging back.\n\nFERROVIUS (in a voice of thunder) Liar!\n\nTHE EDITOR (not heeding him) March. (The gladiators told off to\nfight with the Christians march down the passage) Follow up\nthere, you","history. Once, in Domitian's time, a\nGaul slew three men in the arena and gained his freedom. But when\nbefore has one naked man slain six armed men of the bravest and\nbest? The persecution shall cease: if Christians can fight like\nthis, I shall have none but Christians to fight for me. (To the\nGladiators) You are ordered to become Christians, you there: do\nyou hear?\n\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\nnet, the","of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\nyour instructions?\n\nCENTURION. Yes, Sir.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. Dismiss. (He throws off his air of parade, and\ndescends down from the perch. The Centurion seats on it and\nprepares for a nap, whilst his men stand at ease. The Christians\nsit down on the west side of the square, glad to rest. Lavinia\nalone remains standing to speak to the",", who stands as on parade to let\nhim pass). The Call Boy comes from the passage, followed by\nthree attendants carrying respectively a bundle of swords, some\nhelmets, and some breastplates and pieces of armor which they\nthrow down in a heap.\n\nTHE CALL BOY. By your leave, Caesar. Number eleven! Gladiators\nand Christians!\n\nFerrovius springs up, ready for martyrdom. The other Christians\ntake the summons as best they can, some joyful and brave, some\npatient and dignified, some tearful","his figure stiff with intense resolution. At the foot of\nthe steps crouches Spintho, with his head clutched in his hands,\nfull of horror at the approach of martyrdom.\n\nOn the east side of the passage the gladiators are standing and\nsitting at ease, waiting, like the Christians, for their turn in\nthe arena. One (Retiarius) is a nearly naked man with a net and a\ntrident. Another (Secutor) is in armor with a sword. He carries a\nhelmet with a barred visor. The editor of","ed to-day in the\narena. You shall have arms; and there will be no more than one\ngladiator to each Christian. If you come out of the arena alive,\nI will consider favorably any request of yours, and give you a\nplace in the Pretorian Guard. Even if the request be that no\nquestions be asked about your faith I shall perhaps not refuse\nit.\n\nFERROVIUS. I will not fight. I will die. Better stand with the\narchangels than with the Pretorian Guard.\n\nCAESAR. I","TAIN. What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing\nthat you should die for such nonsense, and that I should look on\nhelplessly when my whole soul cries out against it! Die then if\nyou must; but at least I can cut the Emperor's throat and then my\nown when I see your blood.\n\nThe Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears\nin wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\ngladiators spring to their feet.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will","THE EDITOR (scrambling to his feet) Sh! Attention there! The\nEmperor. (The Keeper bolts precipitately into the passage. The\ngladiators rise smartly and form into line).\n\nThe Emperor enters on the Christians' side, conversing with\nMetellus, and followed by his suite.\n\nTHE GLADIATORS. Hail, Caesar! those about to die salute thee.\n\nCAESAR. Good morrow, friends.\n\nMetellus shakes hands with the Editor, who accepts his\ncond","EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy\nof delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He shall have a laurel\ncrown.\n\nFerrovius, madly waving his bloodstained sword, rushes through\nthe passage in despair, followed by his co-religionists, and by\nthe menagerie keeper, who goes to the gladiators. The gladiators\ndraw their swords nervously.\n\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut","The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","t give way to pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so\neasily. I could--\n\nThey are separated by the Menagerie Keeper, who rushes in from\nthe passage, furious.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Here's a nice business! Who let that Christian out of\nhere down to the dens when we were changing the lion into the\ncage next the arena?\n\nTHE EDITOR. Nobody let him. He let himself.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\n\nConsternation. The","my duty to call your\nattention to them in order that you may have no ground for\ncomplaining of your treatment, or of accusing the Emperor of\ncruelty when he is showing you the most signal clemency.\nLooked at from this point of view, every Christian who has\nperished in the arena has really committed suicide.\n\nLAVINIA. Captain: your jokes are too grim. Do not think it is\neasy for us to die. Our faith makes life far stronger and more\nwonderful in us than when we walked in darkness and had nothing\n","'s not a man's job. (He throws\nhimself moodily into his chair).\n\nThe remaining gladiators go back to their former places\nindifferently. The Call Boy shrugs his shoulders and squats down\nat the entrance to the passage, near the Editor.\n\nLavinia and the Christian women sit down again, wrung with grief,\nsome weeping silently, some praying, some calm and steadfast.\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDRO",". Nobody let him. He let himself.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\n\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\n\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH","enth with\nprisoners. Two file out with me to receive them. (He goes out\nthrough the western arch, followed by four soldiers in two\nfiles).\n\nLentulus and Metellus come into the square from the west side\nwith a little retinue of servants. Both are young courtiers,\ndressed in the extremity of fashion. Lentulus is slender,\nfair-haired, epicene. Metellus is manly, compactly built, olive\nskinned, not a talker.\n\nLENTULUS. Christians, by Jove!","\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CHRISTIANS. What! Ate him!\nHow frightful! How terrible! Without a moment to repent! God be\nmerciful to him, a sinner! Oh, I can't bear to think of it! In\nthe midst of his sin! Horrible, horrible! THE EDITOR. Serve the\nrotter right! THE GLADIATORS. Just walked into it, he did. He's\n","slightest idea of harming them. Ladies and gentlemen: you are all\nfree. Pray go into the front of the house and enjoy the spectacle\nto which your brother has so splendidly contributed. Captain:\noblige me by conducting them to the seats reserved for my\npersonal friends.\n\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Caesar: I must have one Christian for the\nlion. The people have been promised it; and they will tear the\ndecorations to bits if they are disappointed.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. True, true: we"],["Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro",".\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\n\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\nfeel as if I were killing you.\n\nANDROCLES. Don't think of","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in","iteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\nChristian man","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","slaves.\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\n\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\n\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\nChristian for the new lion.\n\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\nwas to be, after all.\n\nLAVINIA.",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\ncheerful side to everything.\n\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'","CLES. No: it's very kind of you; but I feel I can't save\nmyself that way.\n\nTHE EDITOR. But I don't ask you to do it to save yourself: I ask\nyou to do it to oblige me personally.\n\nANDROCLES (scrambling up in the greatest agitation) Oh, please\ndon't say that. That is dreadful. You mean so kindly by me that\nit seems quite horrible to disoblige you. If you could arrange\nfor me to sacrifice when there's nobody looking","say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\n\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\n","ANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\nwas to be, after all.\n\nLAVINIA. I'll go in his place, Caesar. Ask the Captain whether\nthey do not like best to see a woman torn to pieces. He told me\nso yesterday.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. There is something in that: there is certainly\nsomething in that--if only I could feel sure that your brother\nwould not fret.\n\nANDROCLES. No: I should never have another happy hour. No: on the\n","\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\n","kindly by me that\nit seems quite horrible to disoblige you. If you could arrange\nfor me to sacrifice when there's nobody looking, I shouldn't\nmind. But I must go into the arena with the rest. My honor, you\nknow.\n\nTHE EDITOR. Honor! The honor of a tailor?\n\nANDROCLES (apologetically) Well, perhaps honor is too strong an\nexpression. Still, you know, I couldn't allow the tailors to get\na bad name through me.\n\nTHE EDITOR. How much will you",". Nobody let him. He let himself.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\n\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\n\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH","'s a\ncheerful side to everything.\n\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don't\nyou be obstinate. Come with me and drop the pinch of incense on\nthe altar. That's all you need do to be let off.\n\nANDROCLES. No: thank you very much indeed; but I really mustn't.\n\nTHE EDITOR. What! Not to save your life?\n\nANDROCLES. I'd rather not. I couldn't sacrifice to Diana: she'"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\n\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and","is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\n\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid","the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\ncheerful side to everything.\n\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue",", your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The lion growls again)\nI'll tell you what it is, sir: he thinks you and I are not\nfriends.\n\nTHE EMPEROR (trying to undo the clasp of his brooch) Friends! You\ninfernal scoundrel (the lion growls) don't let him go. Curse this\nbrooch! I can't get it loose.\n\nANDROCLES. We must","matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\nan effort and totters after him).\n\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\n\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.","say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\n\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\n","back, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's robe.\n\nANDROCLES. Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that!\nLet go the Emperor's robe at once, sir: where's your manners?\n(The lion growls and worries the robe). Don't pull it away from\nhim, your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad"],["EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy\nof delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He shall have a laurel\ncrown.\n\nFerrovius, madly waving his bloodstained sword, rushes through\nthe passage in despair, followed by his co-religionists, and by\nthe menagerie keeper, who goes to the gladiators. The gladiators\ndraw their swords nervously.\n\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut","return\nfrom the arena through the passage; Secutor covered with dust and\nvery angry: Retiarius grinning.\n\nSECUTOR. Ha, the Emperor. Now we shall see. Caesar: I ask you\nwhether it is fair for the Retiarius, instead of making a fair\nthrow of his net at me, to swish it along the ground and throw\nthe dust in my eyes, and then catch me when I'm blinded. If the\nvestals had not turned up their thumbs I should have been a dead\nman.\n\nCAESAR (hal",", aye: that is right. Not as a lamb is slain by the\nbutcher; but as a butcher might let himself be slain by a\n(looking at the Editor) by a silly ram whose head he could fetch\noff in one twist.\n\nBefore the Editor can retort, the Call Boy rushes up through the\npassage; and the Captain comes from the Emperor's box and\ndescends the steps.\n\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","THE EDITOR (scrambling to his feet) Sh! Attention there! The\nEmperor. (The Keeper bolts precipitately into the passage. The\ngladiators rise smartly and form into line).\n\nThe Emperor enters on the Christians' side, conversing with\nMetellus, and followed by his suite.\n\nTHE GLADIATORS. Hail, Caesar! those about to die salute thee.\n\nCAESAR. Good morrow, friends.\n\nMetellus shakes hands with the Editor, who accepts his\ncond","TAIN. What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing\nthat you should die for such nonsense, and that I should look on\nhelplessly when my whole soul cries out against it! Die then if\nyou must; but at least I can cut the Emperor's throat and then my\nown when I see your blood.\n\nThe Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears\nin wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\ngladiators spring to their feet.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will","and\nthere's blood on my sword. What does that mean?\n\nTHE EMPEROR (enthusiastically, on the landing outside his box)\nWhat does it mean? It means that you are the greatest man in\nRome. It means that you shall have a laurel crown of gold. Superb\nfighter, I could almost yield you my throne. It is a record for\nmy reign: I shall live in history. Once, in Domitian's time, a\nGaul slew three men in the arena and gained his freedom. But when\nbefore","The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","The gladiators\ndraw their swords nervously.\n\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut off\nthis right hand: it has offended. Ye have swords, my brethren:\nstrike.\n\nLAVINIA. No, no. What have you done, Ferrovius?\n\nFERROVIUS. I know not; but there was blood behind my eyes; and\nthere's blood on my sword. What does that mean?\n\nTHE EMPEROR (enthusiastically, on the landing outside","the Emperor's box at the Coliseum, where the performers\nassemble before entering the arena. In the middle a wide passage\nleading to the arena descends from the floor level under the\nimperial box. On both sides of this passage steps ascend to a\nlanding at the back entrance to the box. The landing forms a\nbridge across the passage. At the entrance to the passage are two\nbronze mirrors, one on each side.\n\nOn the west side of this passage, on the right hand of any one\ncoming from the box and standing on the bridge, the","\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting. (To the Editor) What are you\ndreaming of, man? Send your men in at once.\n\nTHE EDITOR. Yes, Sir: it's these Christians hanging back.\n\nFERROVIUS (in a voice of thunder) Liar!\n\nTHE EDITOR (not heeding him) March. (The gladiators told off to\nfight with the Christians march down the passage) Follow up\nthere, you","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","ets for?\n\nTHE CALL Boy. For the whip. He's in pieces. They're all in\npieces, more or less. (Lavinia hides her face).\n\n(Two more masked slaves come in with a basket and follow the\nothers into the arena, as the Call Boy turns to the gladiators\nand exclaims, exhausted) Boys, he's killed the lot.\n\nTHE EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy\nof delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong",": think only of\nyourself! What am I to do? What am I to say to the Emperor when\nhe sees one of my lions coming into the arena half asleep?\n\nTHE EDITOR. Say nothing. Give your old lion some bitters and a\nmorsel of fried fish to wake up his appetite. (Laughter).\n\nTHE KEEPER. Yes: it's easy for you to talk; but--\n\nTHE EDITOR (scrambling to his feet) Sh! Attention there! The\nEmperor. (The Keeper bolts precipitately","the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\ngladiators spring to their feet.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will not fight; and your curs cannot\nget their blood up to attack them. It's all that fellow with the\nblazing eyes. Send for the whip. (The Call Boy rushes out on the\neast side for the whip). If that will not move them, bring the\nhot irons. The man is like a mountain. (He returns angrily into\nthe box and slams the door).\n\nThe Call Boy","\nyou hear?\n\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\nnet, the story would have been different.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN (suddenly seizing Lavinia by the wrist and dragging\nher up the steps to the Emperor) Caesar this woman is the sister\nof Ferrovius. If she is thrown to the lions he will fret. He will\nlose weight; get out of condition.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The lions? Nonsense! (To Lavinia","met puts it on; and the two go into the arena, the net thrower\ntaking out a little brush and arranging his hair as he goes, the\nother tightening his straps and shaking his shoulders loose. Both\nlook at themselves in the mirrors before they enter the passage.\n\nLAVINIA. Will they really kill one another?\n\nSPINTHO. Yes, if the people turn down their thumbs.\n\nTHE EDITOR. You know nothing about it. The people indeed! Do you\nsuppose we would kill a man worth perhaps fifty talents to please\nthe r","keeper comes from\nthe passage with other keepers armed with iron bars and\ntridents). Take those things away. I have subdued the beast. (He\nplaces his foot on it).\n\nFERROVIUS (timidly approaching the Emperor and looking down with\nawe on the lion) It is strange that I, who fear no man, should\nfear a lion.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. Every man fears something, Ferrovius.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. How about the Pretorian Guard now?\n\nFERROVIUS. In","ENTURION. Emperor! Where's the Emperor? You ain't the\nEmperor, are you?\n\nTHE OX DRIVER. It's the menagerie service. My team of oxen is\ndrawing the new lion to the Coliseum. You clear the road.\n\nCENTURION. What! Go in after you in your dust, with half the town\nat the heels of you and your lion! Not likely. We go first.\n\nTHE OX DRIVER. The menagerie service is the Emperor's personal\nretinue."],["TAIN. What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing\nthat you should die for such nonsense, and that I should look on\nhelplessly when my whole soul cries out against it! Die then if\nyou must; but at least I can cut the Emperor's throat and then my\nown when I see your blood.\n\nThe Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears\nin wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\ngladiators spring to their feet.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will","my duty to call your\nattention to them in order that you may have no ground for\ncomplaining of your treatment, or of accusing the Emperor of\ncruelty when he is showing you the most signal clemency.\nLooked at from this point of view, every Christian who has\nperished in the arena has really committed suicide.\n\nLAVINIA. Captain: your jokes are too grim. Do not think it is\neasy for us to die. Our faith makes life far stronger and more\nwonderful in us than when we walked in darkness and had nothing\n","history. Once, in Domitian's time, a\nGaul slew three men in the arena and gained his freedom. But when\nbefore has one naked man slain six armed men of the bravest and\nbest? The persecution shall cease: if Christians can fight like\nthis, I shall have none but Christians to fight for me. (To the\nGladiators) You are ordered to become Christians, you there: do\nyou hear?\n\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\nnet, the","treason, but sacrilege. I point out to her further that\nthere is no foundation for the charge, as the Emperor does not\ndesire that any prisoner should suffer; nor can any Christian be\nharmed save through his or her own obstinacy. All that is\nnecessary is to sacrifice to the gods: a simple and convenient\nceremony effected by dropping a pinch of incense on the altar,\nafter which the prisoner is at once set free. Under such\ncircumstances you have only your own perverse folly to blame if\nyou suffer. I suggest to you that","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting. (To the Editor) What are you\ndreaming of, man? Send your men in at once.\n\nTHE EDITOR. Yes, Sir: it's these Christians hanging back.\n\nFERROVIUS (in a voice of thunder) Liar!\n\nTHE EDITOR (not heeding him) March. (The gladiators told off to\nfight with the Christians march down the passage) Follow up\nthere, you","THE EDITOR (scrambling to his feet) Sh! Attention there! The\nEmperor. (The Keeper bolts precipitately into the passage. The\ngladiators rise smartly and form into line).\n\nThe Emperor enters on the Christians' side, conversing with\nMetellus, and followed by his suite.\n\nTHE GLADIATORS. Hail, Caesar! those about to die salute thee.\n\nCAESAR. Good morrow, friends.\n\nMetellus shakes hands with the Editor, who accepts his\ncond","ed to-day in the\narena. You shall have arms; and there will be no more than one\ngladiator to each Christian. If you come out of the arena alive,\nI will consider favorably any request of yours, and give you a\nplace in the Pretorian Guard. Even if the request be that no\nquestions be asked about your faith I shall perhaps not refuse\nit.\n\nFERROVIUS. I will not fight. I will die. Better stand with the\narchangels than with the Pretorian Guard.\n\nCAESAR. I","yrdom. The other Christians\ntake the summons as best they can, some joyful and brave, some\npatient and dignified, some tearful and helpless, some embracing\none another with emotion. The Call Boy goes back into the\npassage.\n\nCAESAR (turning at the door of the box) The hour has come,\nFerrovius. I shall go into my box and see you killed, since you\nscorn the Pretorian Guard. (He goes into the box. The Captain\nshuts the door, remaining inside with the Emperor. Metellus","EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy\nof delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He shall have a laurel\ncrown.\n\nFerrovius, madly waving his bloodstained sword, rushes through\nthe passage in despair, followed by his co-religionists, and by\nthe menagerie keeper, who goes to the gladiators. The gladiators\ndraw their swords nervously.\n\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut","the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\ngladiators spring to their feet.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will not fight; and your curs cannot\nget their blood up to attack them. It's all that fellow with the\nblazing eyes. Send for the whip. (The Call Boy rushes out on the\neast side for the whip). If that will not move them, bring the\nhot irons. The man is like a mountain. (He returns angrily into\nthe box and slams the door).\n\nThe Call Boy","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","sardonic) Persecution is not a\nterm applicable to the acts of the Emperor. The Emperor is the\nDefender of the Faith. In throwing you to the lions he will be\nupholding the interests of religion in Rome. If you were to throw\nhim to the lions, that would no doubt be persecution.\n\nThe Christians again laugh heartily.\n\nCENTURION (horrified) Silence, I tell you! Keep silence there.\nDid anyone ever hear the like of this?\n\nLAVINIA. Captain: there will be nobody to","\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\n\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\n\nCENTURION. Silence!\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\nImper","orn the Pretorian Guard. (He goes into the box. The Captain\nshuts the door, remaining inside with the Emperor. Metellus and\nthe rest of the suite disperse to their seats. The Christians,\nled by Ferrovius, move towards the passage).\n\nLAVINIA (to Ferrovius) Farewell.\n\nTHE EDITOR. Steady there. You Christians have got to fight. Here!\narm yourselves.\n\nFERROVIUS (picking up a sword) I'll die sword in hand to show\npeople that I could",", who stands as on parade to let\nhim pass). The Call Boy comes from the passage, followed by\nthree attendants carrying respectively a bundle of swords, some\nhelmets, and some breastplates and pieces of armor which they\nthrow down in a heap.\n\nTHE CALL BOY. By your leave, Caesar. Number eleven! Gladiators\nand Christians!\n\nFerrovius springs up, ready for martyrdom. The other Christians\ntake the summons as best they can, some joyful and brave, some\npatient and dignified, some tearful","arewell. Be\nstrong, brother. Farewell. Don't forget that the divine love and\nour love surround you. Farewell. Nothing can hurt you: remember\nthat, brother. Farewell. Eternal glory, dearest. Farewell.\n\nTHE EDITOR (out of patience) Shove them in, there.\n\nThe remaining gladiators and the Call Boy make a movement towards\nthem.\n\nFERROVIUS (interposing) Touch them, dogs; and we die here, and\ncheat the heathen of their spectacle. (To","slaves.\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\n\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\n\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\nChristian for the new lion.\n\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\nwas to be, after all.\n\nLAVINIA.","of\nthe leading pastors of the Free Churches in London denounced my\nplay on the ground that my persecuting Emperor is a very fine\nfellow, and the persecuted Christians ridiculous. From which I\nconclude that a popular pulpit may be as perilous to a man's soul\nas an imperial throne.\n\nAll my articulate Christians, the reader will notice, have\ndifferent enthusiasms, which they accept as the same religion\nonly because it involves them in a common opposition to the\nofficial religion and consequently in a common doom. Androcles",", aye: that is right. Not as a lamb is slain by the\nbutcher; but as a butcher might let himself be slain by a\n(looking at the Editor) by a silly ram whose head he could fetch\noff in one twist.\n\nBefore the Editor can retort, the Call Boy rushes up through the\npassage; and the Captain comes from the Emperor's box and\ndescends the steps.\n\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\n\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\n\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","back, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's robe.\n\nANDROCLES. Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that!\nLet go the Emperor's robe at once, sir: where's your manners?\n(The lion growls and worries the robe). Don't pull it away from\nhim, your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\nThe lion lets go the robe and rolls over on his back, clasping\nhis forepaws over one another coquettishly above his nose.\n\nANDROCLES. There! You see, your worship, a child might play with\nhim now. See! (He tickles the lion's belly. The lion wriggles\necstatically). Come and pet him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I must conquer","say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\n\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\n",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the",", your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The lion growls again)\nI'll tell you what it is, sir: he thinks you and I are not\nfriends.\n\nTHE EMPEROR (trying to undo the clasp of his brooch) Friends! You\ninfernal scoundrel (the lion growls) don't let him go. Curse this\nbrooch! I can't get it loose.\n\nANDROCLES. We must","the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\ncheerful side to everything.\n\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\nbundle).\n\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\n","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","rovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of",".\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\n\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\nfeel as if I were killing you.\n\nANDROCLES. Don't think of",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\n\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\n","iteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\nChristian man","springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\n\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and","is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\n\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","rovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at","\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\n","matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\nan effort and totters after him).\n\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\n\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\ncheerful side to everything.\n\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\n\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and","(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\nbundle).\n\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously","say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\n\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\n","iteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\nChristian man"],["Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in","springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\n\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the","say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\n\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\n","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws.\nThat's right. (He pulls gingerly at the thorn. The lion, with an\nangry yell of pain, jerks back his paw so abruptly that Androcles\nis thrown on his back). Steadeee! Oh, did the nasty cruel little\nChristian man hurt the sore paw? (The lion moans assentingly but\napologetically). Well, one more little pull and it will be all\nover. Just one little, little, leetle pull; and then","paw to take away the nasty\ninflammation. See? (He licks his own hand. The lion nods\nintelligently and licks his paw industriously). Clever little\nliony-piony! Understands um's dear old friend Andy Wandy. (The\nlion licks his face). Yes, kissums Andy Wandy. (The lion,\nwagging his tail violently, rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet","matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\nan effort and totters after him).\n\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\n\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.","(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\nbundle).\n\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","great secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and let him smell\nyou all over just to reassure him; for, you see, he's afraid of\nyou; and he must examine you thoroughly before he gives you his\nconfidence. (To the lion) Come now, Tommy; and speak nicely to\nthe Emperor, the great, good Emperor who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion ut","lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\nThe lion lets go the robe and rolls over on his back, clasping\nhis forepaws over one another coquettishly above his nose.\n\nANDROCLES. There! You see, your worship, a child might play with\nhim now. See! (He tickles the lion's belly. The lion wriggles\necstatically). Come and pet him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I must conquer","the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\ncheerful side to everything.\n\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'"],["was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in","\nfaintly.\n\nA jungle path. A lion's roar, a melancholy suffering roar, comes\nfrom the jungle. It is repeated nearer. The lion limps from the\njungle on three legs, holding up his right forepaw, in which a\nhuge thorn sticks. He sits down and contemplates it. He licks it.\nHe shakes it. He tries to extract it by scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws.\nThat's right. (He pulls gingerly at the thorn. The lion, with an\nangry yell of pain, jerks back his paw so abruptly that Androcles\nis thrown on his back). Steadeee! Oh, did the nasty cruel little\nChristian man hurt the sore paw? (The lion moans assentingly but\napologetically). Well, one more little pull and it will be all\nover. Just one little, little, leetle pull; and then","matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\nan effort and totters after him).\n\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\n\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.","lion's belly. The lion wriggles\necstatically). Come and pet him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I must conquer these unkingly terrors. Mind you\ndon't go away from him, though. (He pats the lion's chest).\n\nANDROCLES. Oh, sir, how few men would have the courage to do\nthat--\n\nTHE EMPEROR. Yes: it takes a bit of nerve. Let us invite the\nCourt in and frighten them. Is he safe, do you think?\n\nANDROC","it comes close, all the imaginary things--all\nthe stories, as you call them--fade into mere dreams beside that\ninexorable reality. I know now that I am not dying for stories or\ndreams. Did you hear of the dreadful thing that happened here\nwhile we were waiting?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. I heard that one of your fellows bolted, and ran\nright into the jaws of the lion. I laughed. I still laugh.\n\nLAVINIA. Then you don't understand what that meant?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN.","great secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and let him smell\nyou all over just to reassure him; for, you see, he's afraid of\nyou; and he must examine you thoroughly before he gives you his\nconfidence. (To the lion) Come now, Tommy; and speak nicely to\nthe Emperor, the great, good Emperor who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion ut","paw to take away the nasty\ninflammation. See? (He licks his own hand. The lion nods\nintelligently and licks his paw industriously). Clever little\nliony-piony! Understands um's dear old friend Andy Wandy. (The\nlion licks his face). Yes, kissums Andy Wandy. (The lion,\nwagging his tail violently, rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet",", your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The lion growls again)\nI'll tell you what it is, sir: he thinks you and I are not\nfriends.\n\nTHE EMPEROR (trying to undo the clasp of his brooch) Friends! You\ninfernal scoundrel (the lion growls) don't let him go. Curse this\nbrooch! I can't get it loose.\n\nANDROCLES. We must","nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\nChristian man's nice big tender wifey pifey. (The lion responds\nby moans of self-pity). Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Now, now (taking\nthe paw in his hand) um is not to bite and not to scratch, not\neven if it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws.\nThat's right. (He pulls gingerly at the thorn","apologetically). Well, one more little pull and it will be all\nover. Just one little, little, leetle pull; and then um will live\nhappily ever after. (He gives the thorn another pull. The lion\nroars and snaps his jaws with a terrifying clash). Oh, mustn't\nfrighten um's good kind doctor, um's affectionate nursey. That\ndidn't hurt at all: not a bit. Just one more. Just to show how\nthe brave big lion can bear pain, not like the","(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\nbundle).\n\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously"],["FERROVIUS (radiant) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering\nand death.\n\nLENTULUS (falling on his knees and bursting into tears) Oh, help\nme. Mother! mother!\n\nFERROVIUS. These tears will water your soul and make it bring\nforth good fruit, my son. God has greatly blessed my efforts at\nconversion. Shall I tell you a miracle--yes, a miracle--wrought\nby me in Cappadocia? A young man--just such a one as you, with\ngold","FERROVIUS (interposing) Touch them, dogs; and we die here, and\ncheat the heathen of their spectacle. (To his fellow Christians)\nBrothers: the great moment has come. That passage is your hill to\nCalvary. Mount it bravely, but meekly; and remember! not a word\nof reproach, not a blow nor a struggle. Go. (They go out through\nthe passage. He turns to Lavinia) Farewell.\n\nLAVINIA. You forget: I must follow before you are cold.\n","adiators.\n\nFERROVIUS. It does not hurt a man to kill him.\n\nLAVINIA. Nothing but faith can save you.\n\nFERROVIUS. Faith! Which faith? There are two faiths. There is our\nfaith. And there is the warrior's faith, the faith in fighting,\nthe faith that sees God in the sword. How if that faith should\noverwhelm me?\n\nLAVINIA. You will find your real faith in the hour of trial.\n\nFERROVIUS. That is what I fear. I know","with great difficulty).\n\nTHE CENTURION (to Lavinia) Here are some pals for you. This\nlittle bit is Ferrovius that you talk so much about. (Ferrovius\nturns on him threateningly. The Centurion holds up his left\nforefinger in admonition). Now remember that you're a Christian,\nand that you've got to return good for evil. (Ferrovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent","Ferrovius) You turn the other cheek when you're\nstruck, I'm told.\n\nFERROVIUS (slowly turning his great eyes on him) Yes, by the\ngrace of God, I do, NOW.\n\nLENTULUS. Not that you're a coward, of course; but out of pure\npiety.\n\nFERROVIUS. I fear God more than man; at least I try to.\n\nLENTULUS. Let's see. (He strikes him on the cheek. Androcles\nm","\nFERROVIUS. Dog of an apostate. Iscariot!\n\nSPINTHO. I'll repent afterwards. I fully mean to die in the arena\nI'll die a martyr and go to heaven; but not this time, not now,\nnot until my nerves are better. Besides, I'm too young: I want to\nhave just one more good time. (The gladiators laugh at him). Oh,\nwill no one tell me where the altar is? (He dashes into the\npassage and vanishes).\n\nANDROCLES","(rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you\nforget.\n\nFERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort) Oh, my temper, my\nwicked temper! (To the Editor, as Lavinia sits down again,\nreassured). Forgive me, brother. My heart was full of wrath: I\nshould have been thinking of your dear precious soul.\n\nTHE EDITOR. Yah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously,\nand goes back to his seat).\n\nFERROVIUS (contin","doubt contrive a happy\nrelease for you. Which is Ferrovius?\n\nFERROVIUS. I am he.\n\nCAESAR. They tell me you can fight.\n\nFERROVIUS. It is easy to fight. I can die, Caesar.\n\nCAESAR. That is still easier, is it not?\n\nFERROVIUS. Not to me, Caesar. Death comes hard to my flesh; and\nfighting comes very easily to my spirit (beating his breast and\nlamenting) O sinner that I am! (He throws","be put off by a swine like that.\n\nFERROVIUS. Peace, peace: tempt him not. Get thee behind him,\nSatan.\n\nTHE EDITOR (flushing with rage) For two pins I'd take a turn in\nthe arena myself to-day, and pay you out for daring to talk to me\nlike that.\n\nFerrovius springs forward.\n\nLAVINIA (rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you\nforget.\n\nFERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort","CLES (scrambling to his feet and running into the middle of\nthe space between the staircases) It's dreadful. Now I want to\nfight. I can't bear the sight of a whip. The only time I ever hit\na man was when he lashed an old horse with a whip. It was\nterrible: I danced on his face when he was on the ground. He\nmustn't strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so","ebly).\nYou know, I should feel ashamed if I let myself be struck like\nthat, and took it lying down. But then I'm not a Christian: I'm a\nman. (Ferrovius rises impressively and towers over him. Lentulus\nbecomes white with terror; and a shade of green flickers in his\ncheek for a moment).\n\nFERROVIUS (with the calm of a steam hammer) I have not always\nbeen faithful. The first man who struck me as you have just\nstruck me was a stronger man than","Metellus follows Lentulus. The Centurion returns to his seat to\nresume his interrupted nap. The deepest awe has settled on the\nspectators. Ferrovius, with a long sigh of happiness, goes to\nLavinia, and offers her his hand.\n\nLAVINIA (taking it) So that is how you convert people, Ferrovius.\n\nFERROVIUS. Yes: there has been a blessing on my work in spite of\nmy unworthiness and my backslidings--all through my wicked,\ndevilish temper.","ah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously,\nand goes back to his seat).\n\nFERROVIUS (continuing) And I forgot it all: I thought of nothing\nbut offering to fight you with one hand tied behind me.\n\nTHE EDITOR (turning pugnaciously) What!\n\nFERROVIUS (on the border line between zeal and ferocity) Oh,\ndon't give way to pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so\neasily. I could--\n\nThey are separated by the Men","ROVIUS (starting convulsively) Heaven give me strength!\n\nTHE EDITOR. Aha! That frightens you, does it?\n\nFERROVIUS. Man: there is no terror like the terror of that sound\nto me. When I hear a trumpet or a drum or the clash of steel or\nthe hum of the catapult as the great stone flies, fire runs\nthrough my veins: I feel my blood surge up hot behind my eyes: I\nmust charge: I must strike: I must conquer: Caesar himself will\nnot be safe in his","something, Ferrovius.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. How about the Pretorian Guard now?\n\nFERROVIUS. In my youth I worshipped Mars, the God of War. I\nturned from him to serve the Christian god; but today the\nChristian god forsook me; and Mars overcame me and took back his\nown. The Christian god is not yet. He will come when Mars and I\nare dust; but meanwhile I must serve the gods that are, not the\nGod that will be. Until then I accept service in the Guard,\n","LAVINIA. You will find your real faith in the hour of trial.\n\nFERROVIUS. That is what I fear. I know that I am a fighter. How\ncan I feel sure that I am a Christian?\n\nANDROCLES. Throw away the sword, brother.\n\nFERROVIUS. I cannot. It cleaves to my hand. I could as easily\nthrow a woman I loved from my arms. (Starting) Who spoke that\nblasphemy? Not I.\n\nLAVINIA. I can't help you, friend. I","But I'm convinced already that what\nyou said is quite right. I apologize for striking you.\n\nFERROVIUS (greatly pleased) My son: have I softened your heart?\nHas the good seed fallen in a fruitful place? Are your feet\nturning towards a better path?\n\nLENTULUS (abjectly) Yes, yes. There's a great deal in what you\nsay.\n\nFERROVIUS (radiant) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering\nand death.\n\nLENTULUS (fall","without hurting anybody? Don't fight them. Burn the\nincense.\n\nFERROVIUS. Burn the incense! Never.\n\nLAVINIA. That is only pride, Ferrovius.\n\nFERROVIUS. ONLY pride! What is nobler than pride? (Conscience\nstricken) Oh, I'm steeped in sin. I'm proud of my pride.\n\nLAVINIA. They say we Christians are the proudest devils on\nearth--that only the weak are meek. Oh, I am worse than you","rovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at","strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so a\ngreat clamor is heard from the arena, ending in wild applause.\nThe gladiators listen and look inquiringly at one another).\n\nTHE EDITOR. What's up now?\n\nLAVINIA (to the Captain) What has happened, do you think?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.\n\nANDROCLES (running in through"],[". They say we Christians are the proudest devils on\nearth--that only the weak are meek. Oh, I am worse than you. I ought\nto send you to death; and I am tempting you.\n\nANDROCLES. Brother, brother: let THEM rage and kill: let US be\nbrave and suffer. You must go as a lamb to the slaughter.\n\nFERROVIUS. Aye, aye: that is right. Not as a lamb is slain by the\nbutcher; but as a butcher might let himself be sl",", who stands as on parade to let\nhim pass). The Call Boy comes from the passage, followed by\nthree attendants carrying respectively a bundle of swords, some\nhelmets, and some breastplates and pieces of armor which they\nthrow down in a heap.\n\nTHE CALL BOY. By your leave, Caesar. Number eleven! Gladiators\nand Christians!\n\nFerrovius springs up, ready for martyrdom. The other Christians\ntake the summons as best they can, some joyful and brave, some\npatient and dignified, some tearful",". Nobody let him. He let himself.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\n\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\n\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH",") This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\nsuddenness).\n\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\nlike that. (The lion","You are right: it was silly thing to say. (In a\nlower tone, humane and urgent) Lavinia: do Christians know how to\nlove?\n\nLAVINIA (composedly) Yes, Captain: they love even their enemies.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. Is that easy?\n\nLAVINIA. Very easy, Captain, when their enemies are as handsome\nas you.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. Lavinia: you are laughing at me.\n\nLAVINIA. At you, Captain! Impossible.\n\nTHE CAP","of\nthe leading pastors of the Free Churches in London denounced my\nplay on the ground that my persecuting Emperor is a very fine\nfellow, and the persecuted Christians ridiculous. From which I\nconclude that a popular pulpit may be as perilous to a man's soul\nas an imperial throne.\n\nAll my articulate Christians, the reader will notice, have\ndifferent enthusiasms, which they accept as the same religion\nonly because it involves them in a common opposition to the\nofficial religion and consequently in a common doom. Androcles","my duty to call your\nattention to them in order that you may have no ground for\ncomplaining of your treatment, or of accusing the Emperor of\ncruelty when he is showing you the most signal clemency.\nLooked at from this point of view, every Christian who has\nperished in the arena has really committed suicide.\n\nLAVINIA. Captain: your jokes are too grim. Do not think it is\neasy for us to die. Our faith makes life far stronger and more\nwonderful in us than when we walked in darkness and had nothing\n","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\nChristian man's nice big tender wifey pifey. (The lion responds\nby moans of self-pity). Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Now, now (taking\nthe paw in his hand) um is not to bite and not to scratch, not\neven if it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws.\nThat's right. (He pulls gingerly at the thorn","\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting. (To the Editor) What are you\ndreaming of, man? Send your men in at once.\n\nTHE EDITOR. Yes, Sir: it's these Christians hanging back.\n\nFERROVIUS (in a voice of thunder) Liar!\n\nTHE EDITOR (not heeding him) March. (The gladiators told off to\nfight with the Christians march down the passage) Follow up\nthere, you","\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\n\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\n\nCENTURION. Silence!\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\nImper","\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CHRISTIANS. What! Ate him!\nHow frightful! How terrible! Without a moment to repent! God be\nmerciful to him, a sinner! Oh, I can't bear to think of it! In\nthe midst of his sin! Horrible, horrible! THE EDITOR. Serve the\nrotter right! THE GLADIATORS. Just walked into it, he did. He's\n","as the same religion\nonly because it involves them in a common opposition to the\nofficial religion and consequently in a common doom. Androcles is\na humanitarian naturalist, whose views surprise everybody.\nLavinia, a clever and fearless freethinker, shocks the Pauline\nFerrovius, who is comparatively stupid and conscience ridden.\nSpintho, the blackguardly debauchee, is presented as one of the\ntypical Christians of that period on the authority of St.\nAugustine, who seems to have come to the conclusion","TAIN. What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing\nthat you should die for such nonsense, and that I should look on\nhelplessly when my whole soul cries out against it! Die then if\nyou must; but at least I can cut the Emperor's throat and then my\nown when I see your blood.\n\nThe Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears\nin wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\ngladiators spring to their feet.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will","slaves.\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\n\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\n\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\nChristian for the new lion.\n\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\nwas to be, after all.\n\nLAVINIA.","history. Once, in Domitian's time, a\nGaul slew three men in the arena and gained his freedom. But when\nbefore has one naked man slain six armed men of the bravest and\nbest? The persecution shall cease: if Christians can fight like\nthis, I shall have none but Christians to fight for me. (To the\nGladiators) You are ordered to become Christians, you there: do\nyou hear?\n\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\nnet, the","ed to-day in the\narena. You shall have arms; and there will be no more than one\ngladiator to each Christian. If you come out of the arena alive,\nI will consider favorably any request of yours, and give you a\nplace in the Pretorian Guard. Even if the request be that no\nquestions be asked about your faith I shall perhaps not refuse\nit.\n\nFERROVIUS. I will not fight. I will die. Better stand with the\narchangels than with the Pretorian Guard.\n\nCAESAR. I","home and your friends, and sacrifice to the gods as\nall respectable people do, instead of having us hunted out of\nhouse and home for being dirty, disreputable, blaspheming\natheists.\n\nANDROCLES. I'm not an atheist, dear: I am a Christian.\n\nMEGAERA. Well, isn't that the same thing, only ten times worse?\nEverybody knows that the Christians are the very lowest of the\nlow.\n\nANDROCLES. Just like us, dear.\n\nMEGAERA","knows that the Christians are the very lowest of the\nlow.\n\nANDROCLES. Just like us, dear.\n\nMEGAERA. Speak for yourself. Don't you dare to compare me to\ncommon people. My father owned his own public-house; and\nsorrowful was the day for me when you first came drinking in our\nbar.\n\nANDROCLES. I confess I was addicted to it, dear. But I gave it\nup when I became a Christian.\n\nMEGAERA. You'd much better have remained a drunkard.","s where you'll be\nthrown to the lions or set to fight the gladiators presently.\nThink of that; and it'll help you to behave properly before the\ncaptain. (The Captain arrives). Attention! Salute! (The soldiers\nsalute).\n\nA CHRISTIAN (cheerfully) God bless you, Captain.\n\nTHE CENTURION (scandalised) Silence!\n\nThe Captain, a patrician, handsome, about thirty-five, very cold\nand distinguished, very superior and authoritative, steps"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of","iteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\nChristian man",".\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\n\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\nfeel as if I were killing you.\n\nANDROCLES. Don't think of","slaves.\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\n\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\n\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\nChristian for the new lion.\n\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\nwas to be, after all.\n\nLAVINIA.","the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\ncheerful side to everything.\n\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue",". Nobody let him. He let himself.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\n\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\n\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH","LAVINIA (sitting down again) Poor Spintho! And it won't even\ncount as martyrdom!\n\nTHE KEEPER. Serve him right! What call had he to walk down the\nthroat of one of my lions before he was asked?\n\nANDROCLES. Perhaps the lion won't eat me now.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Yes: that's just like a Christian: think only of\nyourself! What am I to do? What am I to say to the Emperor when\nhe sees one of my lions coming","Andy. Save me.\n\nANDROCLES (rising) Meggy: there's one chance for you. It'll take\nhim pretty nigh twenty minutes to eat me (I'm rather stringy and\ntough) and you can escape in less time than that.\n\nMEGAERA. Oh, don't talk about eating. (The lion rises with a\ngreat groan and limps towards them). Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\n\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\n","is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\n\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","t give way to pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so\neasily. I could--\n\nThey are separated by the Menagerie Keeper, who rushes in from\nthe passage, furious.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Here's a nice business! Who let that Christian out of\nhere down to the dens when we were changing the lion into the\ncage next the arena?\n\nTHE EDITOR. Nobody let him. He let himself.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\n\nConsternation. The",") This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\nsuddenness).\n\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\nlike that. (The lion","CLES (scrambling to his feet and running into the middle of\nthe space between the staircases) It's dreadful. Now I want to\nfight. I can't bear the sight of a whip. The only time I ever hit\na man was when he lashed an old horse with a whip. It was\nterrible: I danced on his face when he was on the ground. He\nmustn't strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","keeper comes from\nthe passage with other keepers armed with iron bars and\ntridents). Take those things away. I have subdued the beast. (He\nplaces his foot on it).\n\nFERROVIUS (timidly approaching the Emperor and looking down with\nawe on the lion) It is strange that I, who fear no man, should\nfear a lion.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. Every man fears something, Ferrovius.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. How about the Pretorian Guard now?\n\nFERROVIUS. In","\nyou hear?\n\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\nnet, the story would have been different.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN (suddenly seizing Lavinia by the wrist and dragging\nher up the steps to the Emperor) Caesar this woman is the sister\nof Ferrovius. If she is thrown to the lions he will fret. He will\nlose weight; get out of condition.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The lions? Nonsense! (To Lavinia","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","\nvestal virgins want to have one of his pet fighting men killed.\n\nANDROCLES. But don't they ever just only pretend to kill one\nanother? Why shouldn't you pretend to die, and get dragged out as\nif you were dead; and then get up and go home, like an actor?\n\nTHE EDITOR. See here: you want to know too much. There will be no\npretending about the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord","iable as we, crowded to see the lions eat him\njust as they now crowd the lion-house in the Zoo at feeding-time,\nnot because they really cared two-pence about Diana or Christ, or\ncould have given you any intelligent or correct account of the\nthings Diana and Christ stood against one another for, but simply\nbecause they wanted to see a curious and exciting spectacle. You,\ndear reader, have probably run to see a fire; and if somebody\ncame in now and told you that a lion was chasing a man down the\nstreet you would rush",". Nobody let him. He let himself.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\n\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\n\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH","it comes close, all the imaginary things--all\nthe stories, as you call them--fade into mere dreams beside that\ninexorable reality. I know now that I am not dying for stories or\ndreams. Did you hear of the dreadful thing that happened here\nwhile we were waiting?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. I heard that one of your fellows bolted, and ran\nright into the jaws of the lion. I laughed. I still laugh.\n\nLAVINIA. Then you don't understand what that meant?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN.","lion's belly. The lion wriggles\necstatically). Come and pet him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I must conquer these unkingly terrors. Mind you\ndon't go away from him, though. (He pats the lion's chest).\n\nANDROCLES. Oh, sir, how few men would have the courage to do\nthat--\n\nTHE EMPEROR. Yes: it takes a bit of nerve. Let us invite the\nCourt in and frighten them. Is he safe, do you think?\n\nANDROC","\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\n\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\n\nCENTURION. Silence!\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\nImper","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","been promised it; and they will tear the\ndecorations to bits if they are disappointed.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. True, true: we must have somebody for the new lion.\n\nFERROVIUS. Throw me to him. Let the apostate perish.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. No, no: you would tear him in pieces, my friend; and\nwe cannot afford to throw away lions as if they were mere slaves.\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\n\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw."],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in","springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\n\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the","matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\nan effort and totters after him).\n\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\n\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\n\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\n","(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\nbundle).\n\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of","it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws.\nThat's right. (He pulls gingerly at the thorn. The lion, with an\nangry yell of pain, jerks back his paw so abruptly that Androcles\nis thrown on his back). Steadeee! Oh, did the nasty cruel little\nChristian man hurt the sore paw? (The lion moans assentingly but\napologetically). Well, one more little pull and it will be all\nover. Just one little, little, leetle pull; and then","the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\ncheerful side to everything.\n\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","back, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's robe.\n\nANDROCLES. Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that!\nLet go the Emperor's robe at once, sir: where's your manners?\n(The lion growls and worries the robe). Don't pull it away from\nhim, your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The",", your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The lion growls again)\nI'll tell you what it is, sir: he thinks you and I are not\nfriends.\n\nTHE EMPEROR (trying to undo the clasp of his brooch) Friends! You\ninfernal scoundrel (the lion growls) don't let him go. Curse this\nbrooch! I can't get it loose.\n\nANDROCLES. We must","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\n","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of",".\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\n\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\nfeel as if I were killing you.\n\nANDROCLES. Don't think of","say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\n\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\n","is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\n\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","back, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's robe.\n\nANDROCLES. Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that!\nLet go the Emperor's robe at once, sir: where's your manners?\n(The lion growls and worries the robe). Don't pull it away from\nhim, your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The","the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\ncheerful side to everything.\n\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'","matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\nan effort and totters after him).\n\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\n\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.","springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\n\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and"],["who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\n\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","back, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's robe.\n\nANDROCLES. Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that!\nLet go the Emperor's robe at once, sir: where's your manners?\n(The lion growls and worries the robe). Don't pull it away from\nhim, your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The","springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\n\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of",".\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\n\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\nfeel as if I were killing you.\n\nANDROCLES. Don't think of","rovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\n",") This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\nsuddenness).\n\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\nlike that. (The lion","say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\n\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\n","SPINTHO (rising and running about in abject terror) I never\nthought of that. O Lord, spare me to be martyred. Oh, what a\nthought to put into the mind of a brother! Oh, let me be martyred\ntoday, now. I shall die in the night and go to hell. You're a\nsorcerer: you've put death into my mind. Oh, curse you, curse\nyou! (He tries to seize Androcles by the throat).\n\nFERROVIUS (holding him in a grip of",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n",".\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\n\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\nfeel as if I were killing you.\n\nANDROCLES. Don't think of","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\n","the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\ncheerful side to everything.\n\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'","is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\n\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,",". I told you they were\nbrutes.\n\nLENTULUS. Plucky little filly! I suppose she thinks I care. (With\nan air of indifference he strolls with Metellus to the east side\nof the square, where they stand watching the return of the\nCenturion through the western arch with his men, escorting three\nprisoners: Ferrovius, Androcles, and Spintho. Ferrovius is a\npowerful, choleric man in the prime of life, with large nostrils,\nstaring eyes, and a thick","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","iteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\nChristian man","rovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at","slaves.\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\n\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\n\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\nChristian for the new lion.\n\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\nwas to be, after all.\n\nLAVINIA.","in the custody of a cohort of the tenth legion. Among\nthese prisoners you will particularly identify an armorer named\nFerrovius, of dangerous character and great personal strength,\nand a Greek tailor reputed to be a sorcerer, by name Androcles.\nYou will add the three to your charge here and march them all to\nthe Coliseum, where you will deliver them into the custody of the\nmaster of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\nyour"],["by\nofficers of this regiment, of which she can have her choice the\nmoment she chooses to sacrifice as all well-bred Roman ladies do.\nI have no more to say to the prisoners.\n\nCENTURION. Dismiss! But stay where you are.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. Centurion: you will remain here with your men in\ncharge of the prisoners until the arrival of three Christian\nprisoners in the custody of a cohort of the tenth legion. Among\nthese prisoners you will particularly identify an armorer named\nFerrov","us is manly, compactly built, olive\nskinned, not a talker.\n\nLENTULUS. Christians, by Jove! Let's chaff them.\n\nMETELLUS. Awful brutes. If you knew as much about them as I do\nyou wouldn't want to chaff them. Leave them to the lions.\n\nLENTULUS (indicating Lavinia, who is still looking towards the\narches after the captain). That woman's got a figure. (He walks\npast her, staring at her invitingly,","ence!\n\nThe Captain, a patrician, handsome, about thirty-five, very cold\nand distinguished, very superior and authoritative, steps up on a\nstone seat at the west side of the square, behind the centurion,\nso as to dominate the others more effectually.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. Centurion.\n\nTHE CENTURION. (standing at attention and saluting) Sir?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN (speaking stiffly and officially) You will remind\nyour men, Centurion, that we are now entering Rome.","tone) I call the\nattention of the female prisoner to the fact that Christians are\nnot allowed to draw the Emperor's officers into arguments and put\nquestions to them for which the military regulations provide no\nanswer. (The Christians titter).\n\nLAVINIA. Captain: how CAN you?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. I call the female prisoner's attention specially to\nthe fact that four comfortable homes have been offered her by\nofficers of this regiment, of which she can have her choice the\nmoment she chooses to sacrifice as all well-bred Roman","of dependence upon the prisoners, especially the female\nprisoners, for cooking, repairs to uniforms, writing letters, and\nadvice in their private affairs. In a Roman soldier such\ndependence is inadmissible. Let me see no more of it whilst we\nare in the city. Further, your orders are that in addressing\nChristian prisoners, the manners and tone of your men must\nexpress abhorrence and contempt. Any shortcoming in this respect\nwill be regarded as a breach of discipline.(He turns to the\nprisoners) Prisoners.\n\nCENTURION","s where you'll be\nthrown to the lions or set to fight the gladiators presently.\nThink of that; and it'll help you to behave properly before the\ncaptain. (The Captain arrives). Attention! Salute! (The soldiers\nsalute).\n\nA CHRISTIAN (cheerfully) God bless you, Captain.\n\nTHE CENTURION (scandalised) Silence!\n\nThe Captain, a patrician, handsome, about thirty-five, very cold\nand distinguished, very superior and authoritative, steps","Roman\nsoldier!\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. It will soon be iron again. I have seen many women\ndie, and forgotten them in a week.\n\nLAVINIA. Remember me for a fortnight, handsome Captain. I shall\nbe watching you, perhaps.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. From the skies? Do not deceive yourself, Lavinia.\nThere is no future for you beyond the grave.\n\nLAVINIA. What does that matter? Do you think I am only running\naway from the terrors of life into the comfort of heaven",".\n\nCENTURION. You'll find out how funny it is when you're thrown to\nthe lions to-morrow. (To the Captain, who looks displeased) Beg\npardon, Sir. (To the Christians) Silennnnce!\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. You are to instruct your men that all intimacy with\nChristian prisoners must now cease. The men have fallen into\nhabits of dependence upon the prisoners, especially the female\nprisoners, for cooking, repairs to uniforms, writing letters, and\nadvice in their private affairs","-prisoners. A\ncenturion, carrying his vinewood cudgel, trudges alongside the\nsquad, on its right, in command of it. All are tired and dusty;\nbut the soldiers are dogged and indifferent, the Christians\nlight-hearted and determined to treat their hardships as a joke\nand encourage one another.\n\nA bugle is heard far behind on the road, where the rest of the\ncohort is following.\n\nCENTURION (stopping) Halt! Orders from the Captain. (They halt\nand wait).","IN. Lavinia: you are laughing at me.\n\nLAVINIA. At you, Captain! Impossible.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. Then you are flirting with me, which is worse. Don't\nbe foolish.\n\nLAVINIA. But such a very handsome captain.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. Incorrigible! (Urgently) Listen to me. The men in\nthat audience tomorrow will be the vilest of voluptuaries: men in\nwhom the only passion excited by a beautiful woman is a lust to\nsee","enth with\nprisoners. Two file out with me to receive them. (He goes out\nthrough the western arch, followed by four soldiers in two\nfiles).\n\nLentulus and Metellus come into the square from the west side\nwith a little retinue of servants. Both are young courtiers,\ndressed in the extremity of fashion. Lentulus is slender,\nfair-haired, epicene. Metellus is manly, compactly built, olive\nskinned, not a talker.\n\nLENTULUS. Christians, by Jove!","in the custody of a cohort of the tenth legion. Among\nthese prisoners you will particularly identify an armorer named\nFerrovius, of dangerous character and great personal strength,\nand a Greek tailor reputed to be a sorcerer, by name Androcles.\nYou will add the three to your charge here and march them all to\nthe Coliseum, where you will deliver them into the custody of the\nmaster of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\nyour","of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\nyour instructions?\n\nCENTURION. Yes, Sir.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. Dismiss. (He throws off his air of parade, and\ndescends down from the perch. The Centurion seats on it and\nprepares for a nap, whilst his men stand at ease. The Christians\nsit down on the west side of the square, glad to rest. Lavinia\nalone remains standing to speak to the","I tell you! Keep silence there.\nDid anyone ever hear the like of this?\n\nLAVINIA. Captain: there will be nobody to appreciate your jokes\nwhen we are gone.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN (unshaken in his official delivery) I call the\nattention of the female prisoner Lavinia to the fact that as the\nEmperor is a divine personage, her imputation of cruelty is not\nonly treason, but sacrilege. I point out to her further that\nthere is no foundation for the charge, as the Emperor does not\ndesire",". Let my death atone for both. I\nfeel as if I were killing you.\n\nANDROCLES. Don't think of me, sister. Think of yourself. That\nwill keep your heart up.\n\nThe Captain laughs sardonically.\n\nLAVINIA (startled: she had forgotten his presence) Are you there,\nhandsome Captain? Have you come to see me die?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN (coming to her side) I am on duty with the Emperor,\nLavinia.\n\nLAVINIA. Is it","towards the\narches after the captain). That woman's got a figure. (He walks\npast her, staring at her invitingly, but she is preoccupied and\nis not conscious of him). Do you turn the other cheek when they\nkiss you?\n\nLAVINIA (starting) What?\n\nLENTULus. Do you turn the other cheek when they kiss you,\nfascinating Christian?\n\nLAVINIA. Don't be foolish. (To Metellus, who has remained on her\nright, so that she is between them","\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\n\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\n\nCENTURION. Silence!\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\nImper","\nTHE CAPTAIN (speaking stiffly and officially) You will remind\nyour men, Centurion, that we are now entering Rome. You will\ninstruct them that once inside the gates of Rome they are in the\npresence of the Emperor. You will make them understand that the\nlax discipline of the march cannot be permitted here. You will\ninstruct them to shave every day, not every week. You will\nimpress on them particularly that there must be an end to the\nprofanity and blasphemy of singing Christian hymns on the march.\nI","then my pride may never become a false\npride. (She turns away as if she did not wish to continue the\nconversation, but softens and says to him with a smile) Thank you\nfor trying to save me from death.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. I knew it was no use; but one tries in spite of\none's knowledge.\n\nLAVINIA. Something stirs, even in the iron breast of a Roman\nsoldier!\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. It will soon be iron again. I have seen many women\ndie, and forgotten them","in this respect\nwill be regarded as a breach of discipline.(He turns to the\nprisoners) Prisoners.\n\nCENTURION (fiercely) Prisonerrrrrs! Tention! Silence!\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. I call your attention, prisoners, to the fact that\nyou may be called on to appear in the Imperial Circus at any time\nfrom tomorrow onwards according to the requirements of the\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon."],["\nFERROVIUS. Dog of an apostate. Iscariot!\n\nSPINTHO. I'll repent afterwards. I fully mean to die in the arena\nI'll die a martyr and go to heaven; but not this time, not now,\nnot until my nerves are better. Besides, I'm too young: I want to\nhave just one more good time. (The gladiators laugh at him). Oh,\nwill no one tell me where the altar is? (He dashes into the\npassage and vanishes).\n\nANDROCLES","FERROVIUS (interposing) Touch them, dogs; and we die here, and\ncheat the heathen of their spectacle. (To his fellow Christians)\nBrothers: the great moment has come. That passage is your hill to\nCalvary. Mount it bravely, but meekly; and remember! not a word\nof reproach, not a blow nor a struggle. Go. (They go out through\nthe passage. He turns to Lavinia) Farewell.\n\nLAVINIA. You forget: I must follow before you are cold.\n","FERROVIUS (radiant) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering\nand death.\n\nLENTULUS (falling on his knees and bursting into tears) Oh, help\nme. Mother! mother!\n\nFERROVIUS. These tears will water your soul and make it bring\nforth good fruit, my son. God has greatly blessed my efforts at\nconversion. Shall I tell you a miracle--yes, a miracle--wrought\nby me in Cappadocia? A young man--just such a one as you, with\ngold","Metellus follows Lentulus. The Centurion returns to his seat to\nresume his interrupted nap. The deepest awe has settled on the\nspectators. Ferrovius, with a long sigh of happiness, goes to\nLavinia, and offers her his hand.\n\nLAVINIA (taking it) So that is how you convert people, Ferrovius.\n\nFERROVIUS. Yes: there has been a blessing on my work in spite of\nmy unworthiness and my backslidings--all through my wicked,\ndevilish temper.","be put off by a swine like that.\n\nFERROVIUS. Peace, peace: tempt him not. Get thee behind him,\nSatan.\n\nTHE EDITOR (flushing with rage) For two pins I'd take a turn in\nthe arena myself to-day, and pay you out for daring to talk to me\nlike that.\n\nFerrovius springs forward.\n\nLAVINIA (rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you\nforget.\n\nFERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort","Ferrovius) You turn the other cheek when you're\nstruck, I'm told.\n\nFERROVIUS (slowly turning his great eyes on him) Yes, by the\ngrace of God, I do, NOW.\n\nLENTULUS. Not that you're a coward, of course; but out of pure\npiety.\n\nFERROVIUS. I fear God more than man; at least I try to.\n\nLENTULUS. Let's see. (He strikes him on the cheek. Androcles\nm","with great difficulty).\n\nTHE CENTURION (to Lavinia) Here are some pals for you. This\nlittle bit is Ferrovius that you talk so much about. (Ferrovius\nturns on him threateningly. The Centurion holds up his left\nforefinger in admonition). Now remember that you're a Christian,\nand that you've got to return good for evil. (Ferrovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent","(rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you\nforget.\n\nFERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort) Oh, my temper, my\nwicked temper! (To the Editor, as Lavinia sits down again,\nreassured). Forgive me, brother. My heart was full of wrath: I\nshould have been thinking of your dear precious soul.\n\nTHE EDITOR. Yah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously,\nand goes back to his seat).\n\nFERROVIUS (contin","But I'm convinced already that what\nyou said is quite right. I apologize for striking you.\n\nFERROVIUS (greatly pleased) My son: have I softened your heart?\nHas the good seed fallen in a fruitful place? Are your feet\nturning towards a better path?\n\nLENTULUS (abjectly) Yes, yes. There's a great deal in what you\nsay.\n\nFERROVIUS (radiant) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering\nand death.\n\nLENTULUS (fall","adiators.\n\nFERROVIUS. It does not hurt a man to kill him.\n\nLAVINIA. Nothing but faith can save you.\n\nFERROVIUS. Faith! Which faith? There are two faiths. There is our\nfaith. And there is the warrior's faith, the faith in fighting,\nthe faith that sees God in the sword. How if that faith should\noverwhelm me?\n\nLAVINIA. You will find your real faith in the hour of trial.\n\nFERROVIUS. That is what I fear. I know","something, Ferrovius.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. How about the Pretorian Guard now?\n\nFERROVIUS. In my youth I worshipped Mars, the God of War. I\nturned from him to serve the Christian god; but today the\nChristian god forsook me; and Mars overcame me and took back his\nown. The Christian god is not yet. He will come when Mars and I\nare dust; but meanwhile I must serve the gods that are, not the\nGod that will be. Until then I accept service in the Guard,\n","rovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at","rovius is a\npowerful, choleric man in the prime of life, with large nostrils,\nstaring eyes, and a thick neck: a man whose sensibilities are\nkeen and violent to the verge of madness. Spintho is a debauchee,\nthe wreck of a good-looking man gone hopelessly to the bad.\nAndrocles is overwhelmed with grief, and is restraining his tears\nwith great difficulty).\n\nTHE CENTURION (to Lavinia) Here are some pals for you. This\nlittle bit is Fer","strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so a\ngreat clamor is heard from the arena, ending in wild applause.\nThe gladiators listen and look inquiringly at one another).\n\nTHE EDITOR. What's up now?\n\nLAVINIA (to the Captain) What has happened, do you think?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.\n\nANDROCLES (running in through","The gladiators\ndraw their swords nervously.\n\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut off\nthis right hand: it has offended. Ye have swords, my brethren:\nstrike.\n\nLAVINIA. No, no. What have you done, Ferrovius?\n\nFERROVIUS. I know not; but there was blood behind my eyes; and\nthere's blood on my sword. What does that mean?\n\nTHE EMPEROR (enthusiastically, on the landing outside","ah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously,\nand goes back to his seat).\n\nFERROVIUS (continuing) And I forgot it all: I thought of nothing\nbut offering to fight you with one hand tied behind me.\n\nTHE EDITOR (turning pugnaciously) What!\n\nFERROVIUS (on the border line between zeal and ferocity) Oh,\ndon't give way to pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so\neasily. I could--\n\nThey are separated by the Men","EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy\nof delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He shall have a laurel\ncrown.\n\nFerrovius, madly waving his bloodstained sword, rushes through\nthe passage in despair, followed by his co-religionists, and by\nthe menagerie keeper, who goes to the gladiators. The gladiators\ndraw their swords nervously.\n\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut","ebly).\nYou know, I should feel ashamed if I let myself be struck like\nthat, and took it lying down. But then I'm not a Christian: I'm a\nman. (Ferrovius rises impressively and towers over him. Lentulus\nbecomes white with terror; and a shade of green flickers in his\ncheek for a moment).\n\nFERROVIUS (with the calm of a steam hammer) I have not always\nbeen faithful. The first man who struck me as you have just\nstruck me was a stronger man than","his friend, young man. You will see that he\nis taken safely home.\n\nMETELLUS (with awestruck civility) Certainly, sir. I shall do\nwhatever you think best. Most happy to have made your acquaintance,\nI'm sure. You may depend on me. Good evening, sir.\n\nFERROVIUS (with unction) The blessing of heaven upon you and him.\n\nMetellus follows Lentulus. The Centurion returns to his seat to\nresume his interrupted nap. The deepest awe has settled on the","CLES (scrambling to his feet and running into the middle of\nthe space between the staircases) It's dreadful. Now I want to\nfight. I can't bear the sight of a whip. The only time I ever hit\na man was when he lashed an old horse with a whip. It was\nterrible: I danced on his face when he was on the ground. He\nmustn't strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","t give way to pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so\neasily. I could--\n\nThey are separated by the Menagerie Keeper, who rushes in from\nthe passage, furious.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Here's a nice business! Who let that Christian out of\nhere down to the dens when we were changing the lion into the\ncage next the arena?\n\nTHE EDITOR. Nobody let him. He let himself.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\n\nConsternation. The","\nyou hear?\n\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\nnet, the story would have been different.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN (suddenly seizing Lavinia by the wrist and dragging\nher up the steps to the Emperor) Caesar this woman is the sister\nof Ferrovius. If she is thrown to the lions he will fret. He will\nlose weight; get out of condition.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The lions? Nonsense! (To Lavinia","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","CLES (scrambling to his feet and running into the middle of\nthe space between the staircases) It's dreadful. Now I want to\nfight. I can't bear the sight of a whip. The only time I ever hit\na man was when he lashed an old horse with a whip. It was\nterrible: I danced on his face when he was on the ground. He\nmustn't strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","keeper comes from\nthe passage with other keepers armed with iron bars and\ntridents). Take those things away. I have subdued the beast. (He\nplaces his foot on it).\n\nFERROVIUS (timidly approaching the Emperor and looking down with\nawe on the lion) It is strange that I, who fear no man, should\nfear a lion.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. Every man fears something, Ferrovius.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. How about the Pretorian Guard now?\n\nFERROVIUS. In",") This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\nsuddenness).\n\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\nlike that. (The lion","\nvestal virgins want to have one of his pet fighting men killed.\n\nANDROCLES. But don't they ever just only pretend to kill one\nanother? Why shouldn't you pretend to die, and get dragged out as\nif you were dead; and then get up and go home, like an actor?\n\nTHE EDITOR. See here: you want to know too much. There will be no\npretending about the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord",". Nobody let him. He let himself.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\n\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\n\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH","iable as we, crowded to see the lions eat him\njust as they now crowd the lion-house in the Zoo at feeding-time,\nnot because they really cared two-pence about Diana or Christ, or\ncould have given you any intelligent or correct account of the\nthings Diana and Christ stood against one another for, but simply\nbecause they wanted to see a curious and exciting spectacle. You,\ndear reader, have probably run to see a fire; and if somebody\ncame in now and told you that a lion was chasing a man down the\nstreet you would rush","strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so a\ngreat clamor is heard from the arena, ending in wild applause.\nThe gladiators listen and look inquiringly at one another).\n\nTHE EDITOR. What's up now?\n\nLAVINIA (to the Captain) What has happened, do you think?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.\n\nANDROCLES (running in through","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","it comes close, all the imaginary things--all\nthe stories, as you call them--fade into mere dreams beside that\ninexorable reality. I know now that I am not dying for stories or\ndreams. Did you hear of the dreadful thing that happened here\nwhile we were waiting?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. I heard that one of your fellows bolted, and ran\nright into the jaws of the lion. I laughed. I still laugh.\n\nLAVINIA. Then you don't understand what that meant?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN.","return\nfrom the arena through the passage; Secutor covered with dust and\nvery angry: Retiarius grinning.\n\nSECUTOR. Ha, the Emperor. Now we shall see. Caesar: I ask you\nwhether it is fair for the Retiarius, instead of making a fair\nthrow of his net at me, to swish it along the ground and throw\nthe dust in my eyes, and then catch me when I'm blinded. If the\nvestals had not turned up their thumbs I should have been a dead\nman.\n\nCAESAR (hal","slightest idea of harming them. Ladies and gentlemen: you are all\nfree. Pray go into the front of the house and enjoy the spectacle\nto which your brother has so splendidly contributed. Captain:\noblige me by conducting them to the seats reserved for my\npersonal friends.\n\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Caesar: I must have one Christian for the\nlion. The people have been promised it; and they will tear the\ndecorations to bits if they are disappointed.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. True, true: we","\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\n\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\n\nCENTURION. Silence!\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\nImper","met puts it on; and the two go into the arena, the net thrower\ntaking out a little brush and arranging his hair as he goes, the\nother tightening his straps and shaking his shoulders loose. Both\nlook at themselves in the mirrors before they enter the passage.\n\nLAVINIA. Will they really kill one another?\n\nSPINTHO. Yes, if the people turn down their thumbs.\n\nTHE EDITOR. You know nothing about it. The people indeed! Do you\nsuppose we would kill a man worth perhaps fifty talents to please\nthe r"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\n\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\n","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,",".\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\n\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\nfeel as if I were killing you.\n\nANDROCLES. Don't think of","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the","\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\n","is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\n\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid","the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\ncheerful side to everything.\n\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","iteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\nChristian man","it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws.\nThat's right. (He pulls gingerly at the thorn. The lion, with an\nangry yell of pain, jerks back his paw so abruptly that Androcles\nis thrown on his back). Steadeee! Oh, did the nasty cruel little\nChristian man hurt the sore paw? (The lion moans assentingly but\napologetically). Well, one more little pull and it will be all\nover. Just one little, little, leetle pull; and then"],["Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.","\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\n","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the","\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\n\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and","say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\n\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\n","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\nbundle).\n\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","lost brother, come to my\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\ngarlic!\n\nThe lion lets go the robe and rolls over on his back, clasping\nhis forepaws over one another coquettishly above his nose.\n\nANDROCLES. There! You see, your worship, a child might play with\nhim now. See! (He tickles the lion's belly. The lion wriggles\necstatically). Come and pet him.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I must conquer","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","back, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's robe.\n\nANDROCLES. Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that!\nLet go the Emperor's robe at once, sir: where's your manners?\n(The lion growls and worries the robe). Don't pull it away from\nhim, your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The","rovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at","iteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\nChristian man","paw to take away the nasty\ninflammation. See? (He licks his own hand. The lion nods\nintelligently and licks his paw industriously). Clever little\nliony-piony! Understands um's dear old friend Andy Wandy. (The\nlion licks his face). Yes, kissums Andy Wandy. (The lion,\nwagging his tail violently, rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","in the custody of a cohort of the tenth legion. Among\nthese prisoners you will particularly identify an armorer named\nFerrovius, of dangerous character and great personal strength,\nand a Greek tailor reputed to be a sorcerer, by name Androcles.\nYou will add the three to your charge here and march them all to\nthe Coliseum, where you will deliver them into the custody of the\nmaster of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\nyour","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.",".\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\n\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\nfeel as if I were killing you.\n\nANDROCLES. Don't think of","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong",". I told you they were\nbrutes.\n\nLENTULUS. Plucky little filly! I suppose she thinks I care. (With\nan air of indifference he strolls with Metellus to the east side\nof the square, where they stand watching the return of the\nCenturion through the western arch with his men, escorting three\nprisoners: Ferrovius, Androcles, and Spintho. Ferrovius is a\npowerful, choleric man in the prime of life, with large nostrils,\nstaring eyes, and a thick","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\n",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of","think?\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.\n\nANDROCLES (running in through the passage, screaming with horror\nand hiding his eyes)!!!\n\nLAVINIA. Androcles, Androcles: what's the matter?\n\nANDROCLES. Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me. Something too\ndreadful. Oh! (He crouches by her and hides his face in her robe,\nsobbing).\n\nTHE CALL Boy (rushing through","slaves.\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\n\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\n\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\nChristian for the new lion.\n\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\nwas to be, after all.\n\nLAVINIA.","rovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","'s not a man's job. (He throws\nhimself moodily into his chair).\n\nThe remaining gladiators go back to their former places\nindifferently. The Call Boy shrugs his shoulders and squats down\nat the entrance to the passage, near the Editor.\n\nLavinia and the Christian women sit down again, wrung with grief,\nsome weeping silently, some praying, some calm and steadfast.\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDRO","is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\n\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid"],["The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\nknees and prays.\n\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,","was wounded. A flash of\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they",", rises on his hind legs and embraces\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\nthrough the","how a tailor can die. Make\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\n\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\ngong","the beasts.\n\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\n","Oh! (She faints).\n\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.",") This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\nsuddenness).\n\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\nlike that. (The lion","Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\nthings mad",".\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\n\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\nfeel as if I were killing you.\n\nANDROCLES. Don't think of","rovius controls\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at","who has power to have all\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\nhim.\n\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro","; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;","scraping it along the\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\n\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\nblue","\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\n","(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\nbundle).\n\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\ncautiously",". They surge\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\nsuffer you to go in peace.\n\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\n\n\n\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of","the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\nhungry.\n\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\n\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\ncheerful side to everything.\n\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'","slaves.\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\n\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\n\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\nChristian for the new lion.\n\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\nwas to be, after all.\n\nLAVINIA.",". I told you they were\nbrutes.\n\nLENTULUS. Plucky little filly! I suppose she thinks I care. (With\nan air of indifference he strolls with Metellus to the east side\nof the square, where they stand watching the return of the\nCenturion through the western arch with his men, escorting three\nprisoners: Ferrovius, Androcles, and Spintho. Ferrovius is a\npowerful, choleric man in the prime of life, with large nostrils,\nstaring eyes, and a thick"],["history. Once, in Domitian's time, a\nGaul slew three men in the arena and gained his freedom. But when\nbefore has one naked man slain six armed men of the bravest and\nbest? The persecution shall cease: if Christians can fight like\nthis, I shall have none but Christians to fight for me. (To the\nGladiators) You are ordered to become Christians, you there: do\nyou hear?\n\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\nnet, the","THE EDITOR (scrambling to his feet) Sh! Attention there! The\nEmperor. (The Keeper bolts precipitately into the passage. The\ngladiators rise smartly and form into line).\n\nThe Emperor enters on the Christians' side, conversing with\nMetellus, and followed by his suite.\n\nTHE GLADIATORS. Hail, Caesar! those about to die salute thee.\n\nCAESAR. Good morrow, friends.\n\nMetellus shakes hands with the Editor, who accepts his\ncond","ed to-day in the\narena. You shall have arms; and there will be no more than one\ngladiator to each Christian. If you come out of the arena alive,\nI will consider favorably any request of yours, and give you a\nplace in the Pretorian Guard. Even if the request be that no\nquestions be asked about your faith I shall perhaps not refuse\nit.\n\nFERROVIUS. I will not fight. I will die. Better stand with the\narchangels than with the Pretorian Guard.\n\nCAESAR. I","of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\nyour instructions?\n\nCENTURION. Yes, Sir.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. Dismiss. (He throws off his air of parade, and\ndescends down from the perch. The Centurion seats on it and\nprepares for a nap, whilst his men stand at ease. The Christians\nsit down on the west side of the square, glad to rest. Lavinia\nalone remains standing to speak to the","TAIN. What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing\nthat you should die for such nonsense, and that I should look on\nhelplessly when my whole soul cries out against it! Die then if\nyou must; but at least I can cut the Emperor's throat and then my\nown when I see your blood.\n\nThe Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears\nin wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\ngladiators spring to their feet.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will","his figure stiff with intense resolution. At the foot of\nthe steps crouches Spintho, with his head clutched in his hands,\nfull of horror at the approach of martyrdom.\n\nOn the east side of the passage the gladiators are standing and\nsitting at ease, waiting, like the Christians, for their turn in\nthe arena. One (Retiarius) is a nearly naked man with a net and a\ntrident. Another (Secutor) is in armor with a sword. He carries a\nhelmet with a barred visor. The editor of","\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting. (To the Editor) What are you\ndreaming of, man? Send your men in at once.\n\nTHE EDITOR. Yes, Sir: it's these Christians hanging back.\n\nFERROVIUS (in a voice of thunder) Liar!\n\nTHE EDITOR (not heeding him) March. (The gladiators told off to\nfight with the Christians march down the passage) Follow up\nthere, you","arewell. Be\nstrong, brother. Farewell. Don't forget that the divine love and\nour love surround you. Farewell. Nothing can hurt you: remember\nthat, brother. Farewell. Eternal glory, dearest. Farewell.\n\nTHE EDITOR (out of patience) Shove them in, there.\n\nThe remaining gladiators and the Call Boy make a movement towards\nthem.\n\nFERROVIUS (interposing) Touch them, dogs; and we die here, and\ncheat the heathen of their spectacle. (To",", who stands as on parade to let\nhim pass). The Call Boy comes from the passage, followed by\nthree attendants carrying respectively a bundle of swords, some\nhelmets, and some breastplates and pieces of armor which they\nthrow down in a heap.\n\nTHE CALL BOY. By your leave, Caesar. Number eleven! Gladiators\nand Christians!\n\nFerrovius springs up, ready for martyrdom. The other Christians\ntake the summons as best they can, some joyful and brave, some\npatient and dignified, some tearful",") This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\nsuddenness).\n\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\nlike that. (The lion","EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy\nof delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He shall have a laurel\ncrown.\n\nFerrovius, madly waving his bloodstained sword, rushes through\nthe passage in despair, followed by his co-religionists, and by\nthe menagerie keeper, who goes to the gladiators. The gladiators\ndraw their swords nervously.\n\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut","the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\ngladiators spring to their feet.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will not fight; and your curs cannot\nget their blood up to attack them. It's all that fellow with the\nblazing eyes. Send for the whip. (The Call Boy rushes out on the\neast side for the whip). If that will not move them, bring the\nhot irons. The man is like a mountain. (He returns angrily into\nthe box and slams the door).\n\nThe Call Boy","my duty to call your\nattention to them in order that you may have no ground for\ncomplaining of your treatment, or of accusing the Emperor of\ncruelty when he is showing you the most signal clemency.\nLooked at from this point of view, every Christian who has\nperished in the arena has really committed suicide.\n\nLAVINIA. Captain: your jokes are too grim. Do not think it is\neasy for us to die. Our faith makes life far stronger and more\nwonderful in us than when we walked in darkness and had nothing\n","The gladiators\ndraw their swords nervously.\n\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut off\nthis right hand: it has offended. Ye have swords, my brethren:\nstrike.\n\nLAVINIA. No, no. What have you done, Ferrovius?\n\nFERROVIUS. I know not; but there was blood behind my eyes; and\nthere's blood on my sword. What does that mean?\n\nTHE EMPEROR (enthusiastically, on the landing outside","\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\n\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\n\nCENTURION. Silence!\n\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\nImper",". Nobody let him. He let himself.\n\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\n\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\n\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH","\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CHRISTIANS. What! Ate him!\nHow frightful! How terrible! Without a moment to repent! God be\nmerciful to him, a sinner! Oh, I can't bear to think of it! In\nthe midst of his sin! Horrible, horrible! THE EDITOR. Serve the\nrotter right! THE GLADIATORS. Just walked into it, he did. He's\n","orn the Pretorian Guard. (He goes into the box. The Captain\nshuts the door, remaining inside with the Emperor. Metellus and\nthe rest of the suite disperse to their seats. The Christians,\nled by Ferrovius, move towards the passage).\n\nLAVINIA (to Ferrovius) Farewell.\n\nTHE EDITOR. Steady there. You Christians have got to fight. Here!\narm yourselves.\n\nFERROVIUS (picking up a sword) I'll die sword in hand to show\npeople that I could","'s not a man's job. (He throws\nhimself moodily into his chair).\n\nThe remaining gladiators go back to their former places\nindifferently. The Call Boy shrugs his shoulders and squats down\nat the entrance to the passage, near the Editor.\n\nLavinia and the Christian women sit down again, wrung with grief,\nsome weeping silently, some praying, some calm and steadfast.\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\nstairs, watching her curiously.\n\nANDRO","arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\n\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\nfrom the passage,"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\\nbundle).\\n\\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously\",\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \"matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\\nan effort and totters after him).\\n\\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\\n\\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \"\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\n\",\n \".\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\\n\\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\\nfeel as if I were killing you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't think of\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"ils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.\\nThe lion is heard groaning heavily in the jungle.\\n\\nANDROCLES (whispering) Did you see? A lion.\\n\\nMEGAERA (despairing) The gods have sent him to punish us because\\nyou're a Christian. Take me away, Andy. Save me.\\n\\nANDROCLES (rising) Meggy: there's one chance for you. It'll take\\nhim\",\n \" GUTENBERG EBOOK ANDROCLES AND THE LION ***\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nProduced by Eve Sobol. HTML version by Al Haines.\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nANDROCLES AND THE LION\\n\\nBERNARD SHAW\\n\\n1912\\n\\n\\n\\nPROLOGUE\\n\\nOverture; forest sounds, roaring of lions, Christian hymn\\nfaintly.\\n\\nA jungle path. A lion's roar, a melancholy suffering roar, comes\\nfrom the j\",\n \"rovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at\",\n \"of stopping every two miles and saying you won't go another step?\\nWe must get on to the next village before night. There are wild\\nbeasts in this wood: lions, they say.\\n\\nMEGAERA. I don't believe a word of it. You are always threatening\\nme with wild beasts to make me walk the very soul out of my body\\nwhen I can hardly drag one foot before another. We haven't seen a\\nsingle lion yet.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Well, dear, do you want to see one?\\n\\nMEGAERA (\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \".\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\\n\\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\\nfeel as if I were killing you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't think of\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"think?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.\\n\\nANDROCLES (running in through the passage, screaming with horror\\nand hiding his eyes)!!!\\n\\nLAVINIA. Androcles, Androcles: what's the matter?\\n\\nANDROCLES. Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me. Something too\\ndreadful. Oh! (He crouches by her and hides his face in her robe,\\nsobbing).\\n\\nTHE CALL Boy (rushing through\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\n\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \"rovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \"in the custody of a cohort of the tenth legion. Among\\nthese prisoners you will particularly identify an armorer named\\nFerrovius, of dangerous character and great personal strength,\\nand a Greek tailor reputed to be a sorcerer, by name Androcles.\\nYou will add the three to your charge here and march them all to\\nthe Coliseum, where you will deliver them into the custody of the\\nmaster of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\\nyour\",\n \"(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\\nbundle).\\n\\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and\"\n ],\n [\n \"FERROVIUS (interposing) Touch them, dogs; and we die here, and\\ncheat the heathen of their spectacle. (To his fellow Christians)\\nBrothers: the great moment has come. That passage is your hill to\\nCalvary. Mount it bravely, but meekly; and remember! not a word\\nof reproach, not a blow nor a struggle. Go. (They go out through\\nthe passage. He turns to Lavinia) Farewell.\\n\\nLAVINIA. You forget: I must follow before you are cold.\\n\",\n \"\\nFERROVIUS. Dog of an apostate. Iscariot!\\n\\nSPINTHO. I'll repent afterwards. I fully mean to die in the arena\\nI'll die a martyr and go to heaven; but not this time, not now,\\nnot until my nerves are better. Besides, I'm too young: I want to\\nhave just one more good time. (The gladiators laugh at him). Oh,\\nwill no one tell me where the altar is? (He dashes into the\\npassage and vanishes).\\n\\nANDROCLES\",\n \"FERROVIUS (radiant) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering\\nand death.\\n\\nLENTULUS (falling on his knees and bursting into tears) Oh, help\\nme. Mother! mother!\\n\\nFERROVIUS. These tears will water your soul and make it bring\\nforth good fruit, my son. God has greatly blessed my efforts at\\nconversion. Shall I tell you a miracle--yes, a miracle--wrought\\nby me in Cappadocia? A young man--just such a one as you, with\\ngold\",\n \"Ferrovius) You turn the other cheek when you're\\nstruck, I'm told.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (slowly turning his great eyes on him) Yes, by the\\ngrace of God, I do, NOW.\\n\\nLENTULUS. Not that you're a coward, of course; but out of pure\\npiety.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I fear God more than man; at least I try to.\\n\\nLENTULUS. Let's see. (He strikes him on the cheek. Androcles\\nm\",\n \"with great difficulty).\\n\\nTHE CENTURION (to Lavinia) Here are some pals for you. This\\nlittle bit is Ferrovius that you talk so much about. (Ferrovius\\nturns on him threateningly. The Centurion holds up his left\\nforefinger in admonition). Now remember that you're a Christian,\\nand that you've got to return good for evil. (Ferrovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent\",\n \"adiators.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. It does not hurt a man to kill him.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Nothing but faith can save you.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Faith! Which faith? There are two faiths. There is our\\nfaith. And there is the warrior's faith, the faith in fighting,\\nthe faith that sees God in the sword. How if that faith should\\noverwhelm me?\\n\\nLAVINIA. You will find your real faith in the hour of trial.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. That is what I fear. I know\",\n \"(rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you\\nforget.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort) Oh, my temper, my\\nwicked temper! (To the Editor, as Lavinia sits down again,\\nreassured). Forgive me, brother. My heart was full of wrath: I\\nshould have been thinking of your dear precious soul.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Yah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously,\\nand goes back to his seat).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (contin\",\n \"Metellus follows Lentulus. The Centurion returns to his seat to\\nresume his interrupted nap. The deepest awe has settled on the\\nspectators. Ferrovius, with a long sigh of happiness, goes to\\nLavinia, and offers her his hand.\\n\\nLAVINIA (taking it) So that is how you convert people, Ferrovius.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Yes: there has been a blessing on my work in spite of\\nmy unworthiness and my backslidings--all through my wicked,\\ndevilish temper.\",\n \"rovius is a\\npowerful, choleric man in the prime of life, with large nostrils,\\nstaring eyes, and a thick neck: a man whose sensibilities are\\nkeen and violent to the verge of madness. Spintho is a debauchee,\\nthe wreck of a good-looking man gone hopelessly to the bad.\\nAndrocles is overwhelmed with grief, and is restraining his tears\\nwith great difficulty).\\n\\nTHE CENTURION (to Lavinia) Here are some pals for you. This\\nlittle bit is Fer\",\n \"be put off by a swine like that.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Peace, peace: tempt him not. Get thee behind him,\\nSatan.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (flushing with rage) For two pins I'd take a turn in\\nthe arena myself to-day, and pay you out for daring to talk to me\\nlike that.\\n\\nFerrovius springs forward.\\n\\nLAVINIA (rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you\\nforget.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort\",\n \"something, Ferrovius.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. How about the Pretorian Guard now?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. In my youth I worshipped Mars, the God of War. I\\nturned from him to serve the Christian god; but today the\\nChristian god forsook me; and Mars overcame me and took back his\\nown. The Christian god is not yet. He will come when Mars and I\\nare dust; but meanwhile I must serve the gods that are, not the\\nGod that will be. Until then I accept service in the Guard,\\n\",\n \"ebly).\\nYou know, I should feel ashamed if I let myself be struck like\\nthat, and took it lying down. But then I'm not a Christian: I'm a\\nman. (Ferrovius rises impressively and towers over him. Lentulus\\nbecomes white with terror; and a shade of green flickers in his\\ncheek for a moment).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (with the calm of a steam hammer) I have not always\\nbeen faithful. The first man who struck me as you have just\\nstruck me was a stronger man than\",\n \"rovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at\",\n \"doubt contrive a happy\\nrelease for you. Which is Ferrovius?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I am he.\\n\\nCAESAR. They tell me you can fight.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. It is easy to fight. I can die, Caesar.\\n\\nCAESAR. That is still easier, is it not?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Not to me, Caesar. Death comes hard to my flesh; and\\nfighting comes very easily to my spirit (beating his breast and\\nlamenting) O sinner that I am! (He throws\",\n \"But I'm convinced already that what\\nyou said is quite right. I apologize for striking you.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (greatly pleased) My son: have I softened your heart?\\nHas the good seed fallen in a fruitful place? Are your feet\\nturning towards a better path?\\n\\nLENTULUS (abjectly) Yes, yes. There's a great deal in what you\\nsay.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (radiant) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering\\nand death.\\n\\nLENTULUS (fall\",\n \"strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so a\\ngreat clamor is heard from the arena, ending in wild applause.\\nThe gladiators listen and look inquiringly at one another).\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. What's up now?\\n\\nLAVINIA (to the Captain) What has happened, do you think?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.\\n\\nANDROCLES (running in through\",\n \"ROVIUS (starting convulsively) Heaven give me strength!\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Aha! That frightens you, does it?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Man: there is no terror like the terror of that sound\\nto me. When I hear a trumpet or a drum or the clash of steel or\\nthe hum of the catapult as the great stone flies, fire runs\\nthrough my veins: I feel my blood surge up hot behind my eyes: I\\nmust charge: I must strike: I must conquer: Caesar himself will\\nnot be safe in his\",\n \"The gladiators\\ndraw their swords nervously.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut off\\nthis right hand: it has offended. Ye have swords, my brethren:\\nstrike.\\n\\nLAVINIA. No, no. What have you done, Ferrovius?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I know not; but there was blood behind my eyes; and\\nthere's blood on my sword. What does that mean?\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (enthusiastically, on the landing outside\",\n \"ah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously,\\nand goes back to his seat).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (continuing) And I forgot it all: I thought of nothing\\nbut offering to fight you with one hand tied behind me.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (turning pugnaciously) What!\\n\\nFERROVIUS (on the border line between zeal and ferocity) Oh,\\ndon't give way to pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so\\neasily. I could--\\n\\nThey are separated by the Men\",\n \"his friend, young man. You will see that he\\nis taken safely home.\\n\\nMETELLUS (with awestruck civility) Certainly, sir. I shall do\\nwhatever you think best. Most happy to have made your acquaintance,\\nI'm sure. You may depend on me. Good evening, sir.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (with unction) The blessing of heaven upon you and him.\\n\\nMetellus follows Lentulus. The Centurion returns to his seat to\\nresume his interrupted nap. The deepest awe has settled on the\"\n ],\n [\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"\\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\\n\\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\\n\\nCENTURION. Silence!\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\\nImper\",\n \") This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\\nsuddenness).\\n\\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\\nlike that. (The lion\",\n \"\\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting. (To the Editor) What are you\\ndreaming of, man? Send your men in at once.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Yes, Sir: it's these Christians hanging back.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (in a voice of thunder) Liar!\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (not heeding him) March. (The gladiators told off to\\nfight with the Christians march down the passage) Follow up\\nthere, you\",\n \"history. Once, in Domitian's time, a\\nGaul slew three men in the arena and gained his freedom. But when\\nbefore has one naked man slain six armed men of the bravest and\\nbest? The persecution shall cease: if Christians can fight like\\nthis, I shall have none but Christians to fight for me. (To the\\nGladiators) You are ordered to become Christians, you there: do\\nyou hear?\\n\\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\\nnet, the\",\n \"of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\\nyour instructions?\\n\\nCENTURION. Yes, Sir.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. Dismiss. (He throws off his air of parade, and\\ndescends down from the perch. The Centurion seats on it and\\nprepares for a nap, whilst his men stand at ease. The Christians\\nsit down on the west side of the square, glad to rest. Lavinia\\nalone remains standing to speak to the\",\n \", who stands as on parade to let\\nhim pass). The Call Boy comes from the passage, followed by\\nthree attendants carrying respectively a bundle of swords, some\\nhelmets, and some breastplates and pieces of armor which they\\nthrow down in a heap.\\n\\nTHE CALL BOY. By your leave, Caesar. Number eleven! Gladiators\\nand Christians!\\n\\nFerrovius springs up, ready for martyrdom. The other Christians\\ntake the summons as best they can, some joyful and brave, some\\npatient and dignified, some tearful\",\n \"his figure stiff with intense resolution. At the foot of\\nthe steps crouches Spintho, with his head clutched in his hands,\\nfull of horror at the approach of martyrdom.\\n\\nOn the east side of the passage the gladiators are standing and\\nsitting at ease, waiting, like the Christians, for their turn in\\nthe arena. One (Retiarius) is a nearly naked man with a net and a\\ntrident. Another (Secutor) is in armor with a sword. He carries a\\nhelmet with a barred visor. The editor of\",\n \"ed to-day in the\\narena. You shall have arms; and there will be no more than one\\ngladiator to each Christian. If you come out of the arena alive,\\nI will consider favorably any request of yours, and give you a\\nplace in the Pretorian Guard. Even if the request be that no\\nquestions be asked about your faith I shall perhaps not refuse\\nit.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I will not fight. I will die. Better stand with the\\narchangels than with the Pretorian Guard.\\n\\nCAESAR. I\",\n \"TAIN. What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing\\nthat you should die for such nonsense, and that I should look on\\nhelplessly when my whole soul cries out against it! Die then if\\nyou must; but at least I can cut the Emperor's throat and then my\\nown when I see your blood.\\n\\nThe Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears\\nin wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\\ngladiators spring to their feet.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will\",\n \"THE EDITOR (scrambling to his feet) Sh! Attention there! The\\nEmperor. (The Keeper bolts precipitately into the passage. The\\ngladiators rise smartly and form into line).\\n\\nThe Emperor enters on the Christians' side, conversing with\\nMetellus, and followed by his suite.\\n\\nTHE GLADIATORS. Hail, Caesar! those about to die salute thee.\\n\\nCAESAR. Good morrow, friends.\\n\\nMetellus shakes hands with the Editor, who accepts his\\ncond\",\n \"EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy\\nof delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He shall have a laurel\\ncrown.\\n\\nFerrovius, madly waving his bloodstained sword, rushes through\\nthe passage in despair, followed by his co-religionists, and by\\nthe menagerie keeper, who goes to the gladiators. The gladiators\\ndraw their swords nervously.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut\",\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"t give way to pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so\\neasily. I could--\\n\\nThey are separated by the Menagerie Keeper, who rushes in from\\nthe passage, furious.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Here's a nice business! Who let that Christian out of\\nhere down to the dens when we were changing the lion into the\\ncage next the arena?\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Nobody let him. He let himself.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\\n\\nConsternation. The\",\n \"my duty to call your\\nattention to them in order that you may have no ground for\\ncomplaining of your treatment, or of accusing the Emperor of\\ncruelty when he is showing you the most signal clemency.\\nLooked at from this point of view, every Christian who has\\nperished in the arena has really committed suicide.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Captain: your jokes are too grim. Do not think it is\\neasy for us to die. Our faith makes life far stronger and more\\nwonderful in us than when we walked in darkness and had nothing\\n\",\n \"'s not a man's job. (He throws\\nhimself moodily into his chair).\\n\\nThe remaining gladiators go back to their former places\\nindifferently. The Call Boy shrugs his shoulders and squats down\\nat the entrance to the passage, near the Editor.\\n\\nLavinia and the Christian women sit down again, wrung with grief,\\nsome weeping silently, some praying, some calm and steadfast.\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDRO\",\n \". Nobody let him. He let himself.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\\n\\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH\",\n \"enth with\\nprisoners. Two file out with me to receive them. (He goes out\\nthrough the western arch, followed by four soldiers in two\\nfiles).\\n\\nLentulus and Metellus come into the square from the west side\\nwith a little retinue of servants. Both are young courtiers,\\ndressed in the extremity of fashion. Lentulus is slender,\\nfair-haired, epicene. Metellus is manly, compactly built, olive\\nskinned, not a talker.\\n\\nLENTULUS. Christians, by Jove!\",\n \"\\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CHRISTIANS. What! Ate him!\\nHow frightful! How terrible! Without a moment to repent! God be\\nmerciful to him, a sinner! Oh, I can't bear to think of it! In\\nthe midst of his sin! Horrible, horrible! THE EDITOR. Serve the\\nrotter right! THE GLADIATORS. Just walked into it, he did. He's\\n\",\n \"slightest idea of harming them. Ladies and gentlemen: you are all\\nfree. Pray go into the front of the house and enjoy the spectacle\\nto which your brother has so splendidly contributed. Captain:\\noblige me by conducting them to the seats reserved for my\\npersonal friends.\\n\\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Caesar: I must have one Christian for the\\nlion. The people have been promised it; and they will tear the\\ndecorations to bits if they are disappointed.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. True, true: we\"\n ],\n [\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \".\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\\n\\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\\nfeel as if I were killing you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't think of\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \"iteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\\nChristian man\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"slaves.\\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\\n\\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\\n\\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\\nChristian for the new lion.\\n\\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\\nwas to be, after all.\\n\\nLAVINIA.\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\\ncheerful side to everything.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'\",\n \"CLES. No: it's very kind of you; but I feel I can't save\\nmyself that way.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. But I don't ask you to do it to save yourself: I ask\\nyou to do it to oblige me personally.\\n\\nANDROCLES (scrambling up in the greatest agitation) Oh, please\\ndon't say that. That is dreadful. You mean so kindly by me that\\nit seems quite horrible to disoblige you. If you could arrange\\nfor me to sacrifice when there's nobody looking\",\n \"say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\n\",\n \"ANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\\nwas to be, after all.\\n\\nLAVINIA. I'll go in his place, Caesar. Ask the Captain whether\\nthey do not like best to see a woman torn to pieces. He told me\\nso yesterday.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. There is something in that: there is certainly\\nsomething in that--if only I could feel sure that your brother\\nwould not fret.\\n\\nANDROCLES. No: I should never have another happy hour. No: on the\\n\",\n \"\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\n\",\n \"kindly by me that\\nit seems quite horrible to disoblige you. If you could arrange\\nfor me to sacrifice when there's nobody looking, I shouldn't\\nmind. But I must go into the arena with the rest. My honor, you\\nknow.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Honor! The honor of a tailor?\\n\\nANDROCLES (apologetically) Well, perhaps honor is too strong an\\nexpression. Still, you know, I couldn't allow the tailors to get\\na bad name through me.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. How much will you\",\n \". Nobody let him. He let himself.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\\n\\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH\",\n \"'s a\\ncheerful side to everything.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don't\\nyou be obstinate. Come with me and drop the pinch of incense on\\nthe altar. That's all you need do to be let off.\\n\\nANDROCLES. No: thank you very much indeed; but I really mustn't.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. What! Not to save your life?\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'd rather not. I couldn't sacrifice to Diana: she'\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and\",\n \"is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid\",\n \"the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\\ncheerful side to everything.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \", your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The lion growls again)\\nI'll tell you what it is, sir: he thinks you and I are not\\nfriends.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (trying to undo the clasp of his brooch) Friends! You\\ninfernal scoundrel (the lion growls) don't let him go. Curse this\\nbrooch! I can't get it loose.\\n\\nANDROCLES. We must\",\n \"matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\\nan effort and totters after him).\\n\\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\\n\\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.\",\n \"say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\n\",\n \"back, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's robe.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that!\\nLet go the Emperor's robe at once, sir: where's your manners?\\n(The lion growls and worries the robe). Don't pull it away from\\nhim, your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\"\n ],\n [\n \"EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy\\nof delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He shall have a laurel\\ncrown.\\n\\nFerrovius, madly waving his bloodstained sword, rushes through\\nthe passage in despair, followed by his co-religionists, and by\\nthe menagerie keeper, who goes to the gladiators. The gladiators\\ndraw their swords nervously.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut\",\n \"return\\nfrom the arena through the passage; Secutor covered with dust and\\nvery angry: Retiarius grinning.\\n\\nSECUTOR. Ha, the Emperor. Now we shall see. Caesar: I ask you\\nwhether it is fair for the Retiarius, instead of making a fair\\nthrow of his net at me, to swish it along the ground and throw\\nthe dust in my eyes, and then catch me when I'm blinded. If the\\nvestals had not turned up their thumbs I should have been a dead\\nman.\\n\\nCAESAR (hal\",\n \", aye: that is right. Not as a lamb is slain by the\\nbutcher; but as a butcher might let himself be slain by a\\n(looking at the Editor) by a silly ram whose head he could fetch\\noff in one twist.\\n\\nBefore the Editor can retort, the Call Boy rushes up through the\\npassage; and the Captain comes from the Emperor's box and\\ndescends the steps.\\n\\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"THE EDITOR (scrambling to his feet) Sh! Attention there! The\\nEmperor. (The Keeper bolts precipitately into the passage. The\\ngladiators rise smartly and form into line).\\n\\nThe Emperor enters on the Christians' side, conversing with\\nMetellus, and followed by his suite.\\n\\nTHE GLADIATORS. Hail, Caesar! those about to die salute thee.\\n\\nCAESAR. Good morrow, friends.\\n\\nMetellus shakes hands with the Editor, who accepts his\\ncond\",\n \"TAIN. What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing\\nthat you should die for such nonsense, and that I should look on\\nhelplessly when my whole soul cries out against it! Die then if\\nyou must; but at least I can cut the Emperor's throat and then my\\nown when I see your blood.\\n\\nThe Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears\\nin wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\\ngladiators spring to their feet.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will\",\n \"and\\nthere's blood on my sword. What does that mean?\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (enthusiastically, on the landing outside his box)\\nWhat does it mean? It means that you are the greatest man in\\nRome. It means that you shall have a laurel crown of gold. Superb\\nfighter, I could almost yield you my throne. It is a record for\\nmy reign: I shall live in history. Once, in Domitian's time, a\\nGaul slew three men in the arena and gained his freedom. But when\\nbefore\",\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"The gladiators\\ndraw their swords nervously.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut off\\nthis right hand: it has offended. Ye have swords, my brethren:\\nstrike.\\n\\nLAVINIA. No, no. What have you done, Ferrovius?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I know not; but there was blood behind my eyes; and\\nthere's blood on my sword. What does that mean?\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (enthusiastically, on the landing outside\",\n \"the Emperor's box at the Coliseum, where the performers\\nassemble before entering the arena. In the middle a wide passage\\nleading to the arena descends from the floor level under the\\nimperial box. On both sides of this passage steps ascend to a\\nlanding at the back entrance to the box. The landing forms a\\nbridge across the passage. At the entrance to the passage are two\\nbronze mirrors, one on each side.\\n\\nOn the west side of this passage, on the right hand of any one\\ncoming from the box and standing on the bridge, the\",\n \"\\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting. (To the Editor) What are you\\ndreaming of, man? Send your men in at once.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Yes, Sir: it's these Christians hanging back.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (in a voice of thunder) Liar!\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (not heeding him) March. (The gladiators told off to\\nfight with the Christians march down the passage) Follow up\\nthere, you\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"ets for?\\n\\nTHE CALL Boy. For the whip. He's in pieces. They're all in\\npieces, more or less. (Lavinia hides her face).\\n\\n(Two more masked slaves come in with a basket and follow the\\nothers into the arena, as the Call Boy turns to the gladiators\\nand exclaims, exhausted) Boys, he's killed the lot.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy\\nof delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \": think only of\\nyourself! What am I to do? What am I to say to the Emperor when\\nhe sees one of my lions coming into the arena half asleep?\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Say nothing. Give your old lion some bitters and a\\nmorsel of fried fish to wake up his appetite. (Laughter).\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Yes: it's easy for you to talk; but--\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (scrambling to his feet) Sh! Attention there! The\\nEmperor. (The Keeper bolts precipitately\",\n \"the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\\ngladiators spring to their feet.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will not fight; and your curs cannot\\nget their blood up to attack them. It's all that fellow with the\\nblazing eyes. Send for the whip. (The Call Boy rushes out on the\\neast side for the whip). If that will not move them, bring the\\nhot irons. The man is like a mountain. (He returns angrily into\\nthe box and slams the door).\\n\\nThe Call Boy\",\n \"\\nyou hear?\\n\\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\\nnet, the story would have been different.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN (suddenly seizing Lavinia by the wrist and dragging\\nher up the steps to the Emperor) Caesar this woman is the sister\\nof Ferrovius. If she is thrown to the lions he will fret. He will\\nlose weight; get out of condition.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The lions? Nonsense! (To Lavinia\",\n \"met puts it on; and the two go into the arena, the net thrower\\ntaking out a little brush and arranging his hair as he goes, the\\nother tightening his straps and shaking his shoulders loose. Both\\nlook at themselves in the mirrors before they enter the passage.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Will they really kill one another?\\n\\nSPINTHO. Yes, if the people turn down their thumbs.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. You know nothing about it. The people indeed! Do you\\nsuppose we would kill a man worth perhaps fifty talents to please\\nthe r\",\n \"keeper comes from\\nthe passage with other keepers armed with iron bars and\\ntridents). Take those things away. I have subdued the beast. (He\\nplaces his foot on it).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (timidly approaching the Emperor and looking down with\\nawe on the lion) It is strange that I, who fear no man, should\\nfear a lion.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. Every man fears something, Ferrovius.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. How about the Pretorian Guard now?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. In\",\n \"ENTURION. Emperor! Where's the Emperor? You ain't the\\nEmperor, are you?\\n\\nTHE OX DRIVER. It's the menagerie service. My team of oxen is\\ndrawing the new lion to the Coliseum. You clear the road.\\n\\nCENTURION. What! Go in after you in your dust, with half the town\\nat the heels of you and your lion! Not likely. We go first.\\n\\nTHE OX DRIVER. The menagerie service is the Emperor's personal\\nretinue.\"\n ],\n [\n \"TAIN. What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing\\nthat you should die for such nonsense, and that I should look on\\nhelplessly when my whole soul cries out against it! Die then if\\nyou must; but at least I can cut the Emperor's throat and then my\\nown when I see your blood.\\n\\nThe Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears\\nin wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\\ngladiators spring to their feet.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will\",\n \"my duty to call your\\nattention to them in order that you may have no ground for\\ncomplaining of your treatment, or of accusing the Emperor of\\ncruelty when he is showing you the most signal clemency.\\nLooked at from this point of view, every Christian who has\\nperished in the arena has really committed suicide.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Captain: your jokes are too grim. Do not think it is\\neasy for us to die. Our faith makes life far stronger and more\\nwonderful in us than when we walked in darkness and had nothing\\n\",\n \"history. Once, in Domitian's time, a\\nGaul slew three men in the arena and gained his freedom. But when\\nbefore has one naked man slain six armed men of the bravest and\\nbest? The persecution shall cease: if Christians can fight like\\nthis, I shall have none but Christians to fight for me. (To the\\nGladiators) You are ordered to become Christians, you there: do\\nyou hear?\\n\\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\\nnet, the\",\n \"treason, but sacrilege. I point out to her further that\\nthere is no foundation for the charge, as the Emperor does not\\ndesire that any prisoner should suffer; nor can any Christian be\\nharmed save through his or her own obstinacy. All that is\\nnecessary is to sacrifice to the gods: a simple and convenient\\nceremony effected by dropping a pinch of incense on the altar,\\nafter which the prisoner is at once set free. Under such\\ncircumstances you have only your own perverse folly to blame if\\nyou suffer. I suggest to you that\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"\\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting. (To the Editor) What are you\\ndreaming of, man? Send your men in at once.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Yes, Sir: it's these Christians hanging back.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (in a voice of thunder) Liar!\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (not heeding him) March. (The gladiators told off to\\nfight with the Christians march down the passage) Follow up\\nthere, you\",\n \"THE EDITOR (scrambling to his feet) Sh! Attention there! The\\nEmperor. (The Keeper bolts precipitately into the passage. The\\ngladiators rise smartly and form into line).\\n\\nThe Emperor enters on the Christians' side, conversing with\\nMetellus, and followed by his suite.\\n\\nTHE GLADIATORS. Hail, Caesar! those about to die salute thee.\\n\\nCAESAR. Good morrow, friends.\\n\\nMetellus shakes hands with the Editor, who accepts his\\ncond\",\n \"ed to-day in the\\narena. You shall have arms; and there will be no more than one\\ngladiator to each Christian. If you come out of the arena alive,\\nI will consider favorably any request of yours, and give you a\\nplace in the Pretorian Guard. Even if the request be that no\\nquestions be asked about your faith I shall perhaps not refuse\\nit.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I will not fight. I will die. Better stand with the\\narchangels than with the Pretorian Guard.\\n\\nCAESAR. I\",\n \"yrdom. The other Christians\\ntake the summons as best they can, some joyful and brave, some\\npatient and dignified, some tearful and helpless, some embracing\\none another with emotion. The Call Boy goes back into the\\npassage.\\n\\nCAESAR (turning at the door of the box) The hour has come,\\nFerrovius. I shall go into my box and see you killed, since you\\nscorn the Pretorian Guard. (He goes into the box. The Captain\\nshuts the door, remaining inside with the Emperor. Metellus\",\n \"EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy\\nof delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He shall have a laurel\\ncrown.\\n\\nFerrovius, madly waving his bloodstained sword, rushes through\\nthe passage in despair, followed by his co-religionists, and by\\nthe menagerie keeper, who goes to the gladiators. The gladiators\\ndraw their swords nervously.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut\",\n \"the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\\ngladiators spring to their feet.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will not fight; and your curs cannot\\nget their blood up to attack them. It's all that fellow with the\\nblazing eyes. Send for the whip. (The Call Boy rushes out on the\\neast side for the whip). If that will not move them, bring the\\nhot irons. The man is like a mountain. (He returns angrily into\\nthe box and slams the door).\\n\\nThe Call Boy\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"sardonic) Persecution is not a\\nterm applicable to the acts of the Emperor. The Emperor is the\\nDefender of the Faith. In throwing you to the lions he will be\\nupholding the interests of religion in Rome. If you were to throw\\nhim to the lions, that would no doubt be persecution.\\n\\nThe Christians again laugh heartily.\\n\\nCENTURION (horrified) Silence, I tell you! Keep silence there.\\nDid anyone ever hear the like of this?\\n\\nLAVINIA. Captain: there will be nobody to\",\n \"\\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\\n\\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\\n\\nCENTURION. Silence!\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\\nImper\",\n \"orn the Pretorian Guard. (He goes into the box. The Captain\\nshuts the door, remaining inside with the Emperor. Metellus and\\nthe rest of the suite disperse to their seats. The Christians,\\nled by Ferrovius, move towards the passage).\\n\\nLAVINIA (to Ferrovius) Farewell.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Steady there. You Christians have got to fight. Here!\\narm yourselves.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (picking up a sword) I'll die sword in hand to show\\npeople that I could\",\n \", who stands as on parade to let\\nhim pass). The Call Boy comes from the passage, followed by\\nthree attendants carrying respectively a bundle of swords, some\\nhelmets, and some breastplates and pieces of armor which they\\nthrow down in a heap.\\n\\nTHE CALL BOY. By your leave, Caesar. Number eleven! Gladiators\\nand Christians!\\n\\nFerrovius springs up, ready for martyrdom. The other Christians\\ntake the summons as best they can, some joyful and brave, some\\npatient and dignified, some tearful\",\n \"arewell. Be\\nstrong, brother. Farewell. Don't forget that the divine love and\\nour love surround you. Farewell. Nothing can hurt you: remember\\nthat, brother. Farewell. Eternal glory, dearest. Farewell.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (out of patience) Shove them in, there.\\n\\nThe remaining gladiators and the Call Boy make a movement towards\\nthem.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (interposing) Touch them, dogs; and we die here, and\\ncheat the heathen of their spectacle. (To\",\n \"slaves.\\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\\n\\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\\n\\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\\nChristian for the new lion.\\n\\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\\nwas to be, after all.\\n\\nLAVINIA.\",\n \"of\\nthe leading pastors of the Free Churches in London denounced my\\nplay on the ground that my persecuting Emperor is a very fine\\nfellow, and the persecuted Christians ridiculous. From which I\\nconclude that a popular pulpit may be as perilous to a man's soul\\nas an imperial throne.\\n\\nAll my articulate Christians, the reader will notice, have\\ndifferent enthusiasms, which they accept as the same religion\\nonly because it involves them in a common opposition to the\\nofficial religion and consequently in a common doom. Androcles\",\n \", aye: that is right. Not as a lamb is slain by the\\nbutcher; but as a butcher might let himself be slain by a\\n(looking at the Editor) by a silly ram whose head he could fetch\\noff in one twist.\\n\\nBefore the Editor can retort, the Call Boy rushes up through the\\npassage; and the Captain comes from the Emperor's box and\\ndescends the steps.\\n\\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"back, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's robe.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that!\\nLet go the Emperor's robe at once, sir: where's your manners?\\n(The lion growls and worries the robe). Don't pull it away from\\nhim, your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\nThe lion lets go the robe and rolls over on his back, clasping\\nhis forepaws over one another coquettishly above his nose.\\n\\nANDROCLES. There! You see, your worship, a child might play with\\nhim now. See! (He tickles the lion's belly. The lion wriggles\\necstatically). Come and pet him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I must conquer\",\n \"say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\n\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \", your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The lion growls again)\\nI'll tell you what it is, sir: he thinks you and I are not\\nfriends.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (trying to undo the clasp of his brooch) Friends! You\\ninfernal scoundrel (the lion growls) don't let him go. Curse this\\nbrooch! I can't get it loose.\\n\\nANDROCLES. We must\",\n \"the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\\ncheerful side to everything.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\\nbundle).\\n\\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\n\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"rovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \".\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\\n\\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\\nfeel as if I were killing you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't think of\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\n\",\n \"iteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\\nChristian man\",\n \"springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and\",\n \"is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"rovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at\",\n \"\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\n\",\n \"matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\\nan effort and totters after him).\\n\\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\\n\\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\\ncheerful side to everything.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and\",\n \"(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\\nbundle).\\n\\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously\",\n \"say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\n\",\n \"iteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\\nChristian man\"\n ],\n [\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \"springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \"say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\n\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws.\\nThat's right. (He pulls gingerly at the thorn. The lion, with an\\nangry yell of pain, jerks back his paw so abruptly that Androcles\\nis thrown on his back). Steadeee! Oh, did the nasty cruel little\\nChristian man hurt the sore paw? (The lion moans assentingly but\\napologetically). Well, one more little pull and it will be all\\nover. Just one little, little, leetle pull; and then\",\n \"paw to take away the nasty\\ninflammation. See? (He licks his own hand. The lion nods\\nintelligently and licks his paw industriously). Clever little\\nliony-piony! Understands um's dear old friend Andy Wandy. (The\\nlion licks his face). Yes, kissums Andy Wandy. (The lion,\\nwagging his tail violently, rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\",\n \"matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\\nan effort and totters after him).\\n\\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\\n\\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.\",\n \"(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\\nbundle).\\n\\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"great secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and let him smell\\nyou all over just to reassure him; for, you see, he's afraid of\\nyou; and he must examine you thoroughly before he gives you his\\nconfidence. (To the lion) Come now, Tommy; and speak nicely to\\nthe Emperor, the great, good Emperor who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion ut\",\n \"lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\nThe lion lets go the robe and rolls over on his back, clasping\\nhis forepaws over one another coquettishly above his nose.\\n\\nANDROCLES. There! You see, your worship, a child might play with\\nhim now. See! (He tickles the lion's belly. The lion wriggles\\necstatically). Come and pet him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I must conquer\",\n \"the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\\ncheerful side to everything.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'\"\n ],\n [\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \"\\nfaintly.\\n\\nA jungle path. A lion's roar, a melancholy suffering roar, comes\\nfrom the jungle. It is repeated nearer. The lion limps from the\\njungle on three legs, holding up his right forepaw, in which a\\nhuge thorn sticks. He sits down and contemplates it. He licks it.\\nHe shakes it. He tries to extract it by scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws.\\nThat's right. (He pulls gingerly at the thorn. The lion, with an\\nangry yell of pain, jerks back his paw so abruptly that Androcles\\nis thrown on his back). Steadeee! Oh, did the nasty cruel little\\nChristian man hurt the sore paw? (The lion moans assentingly but\\napologetically). Well, one more little pull and it will be all\\nover. Just one little, little, leetle pull; and then\",\n \"matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\\nan effort and totters after him).\\n\\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\\n\\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.\",\n \"lion's belly. The lion wriggles\\necstatically). Come and pet him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I must conquer these unkingly terrors. Mind you\\ndon't go away from him, though. (He pats the lion's chest).\\n\\nANDROCLES. Oh, sir, how few men would have the courage to do\\nthat--\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. Yes: it takes a bit of nerve. Let us invite the\\nCourt in and frighten them. Is he safe, do you think?\\n\\nANDROC\",\n \"it comes close, all the imaginary things--all\\nthe stories, as you call them--fade into mere dreams beside that\\ninexorable reality. I know now that I am not dying for stories or\\ndreams. Did you hear of the dreadful thing that happened here\\nwhile we were waiting?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. I heard that one of your fellows bolted, and ran\\nright into the jaws of the lion. I laughed. I still laugh.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Then you don't understand what that meant?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN.\",\n \"great secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and let him smell\\nyou all over just to reassure him; for, you see, he's afraid of\\nyou; and he must examine you thoroughly before he gives you his\\nconfidence. (To the lion) Come now, Tommy; and speak nicely to\\nthe Emperor, the great, good Emperor who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion ut\",\n \"paw to take away the nasty\\ninflammation. See? (He licks his own hand. The lion nods\\nintelligently and licks his paw industriously). Clever little\\nliony-piony! Understands um's dear old friend Andy Wandy. (The\\nlion licks his face). Yes, kissums Andy Wandy. (The lion,\\nwagging his tail violently, rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\",\n \", your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The lion growls again)\\nI'll tell you what it is, sir: he thinks you and I are not\\nfriends.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (trying to undo the clasp of his brooch) Friends! You\\ninfernal scoundrel (the lion growls) don't let him go. Curse this\\nbrooch! I can't get it loose.\\n\\nANDROCLES. We must\",\n \"nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\\nChristian man's nice big tender wifey pifey. (The lion responds\\nby moans of self-pity). Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Now, now (taking\\nthe paw in his hand) um is not to bite and not to scratch, not\\neven if it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws.\\nThat's right. (He pulls gingerly at the thorn\",\n \"apologetically). Well, one more little pull and it will be all\\nover. Just one little, little, leetle pull; and then um will live\\nhappily ever after. (He gives the thorn another pull. The lion\\nroars and snaps his jaws with a terrifying clash). Oh, mustn't\\nfrighten um's good kind doctor, um's affectionate nursey. That\\ndidn't hurt at all: not a bit. Just one more. Just to show how\\nthe brave big lion can bear pain, not like the\",\n \"(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\\nbundle).\\n\\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously\"\n ],\n [\n \"FERROVIUS (radiant) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering\\nand death.\\n\\nLENTULUS (falling on his knees and bursting into tears) Oh, help\\nme. Mother! mother!\\n\\nFERROVIUS. These tears will water your soul and make it bring\\nforth good fruit, my son. God has greatly blessed my efforts at\\nconversion. Shall I tell you a miracle--yes, a miracle--wrought\\nby me in Cappadocia? A young man--just such a one as you, with\\ngold\",\n \"FERROVIUS (interposing) Touch them, dogs; and we die here, and\\ncheat the heathen of their spectacle. (To his fellow Christians)\\nBrothers: the great moment has come. That passage is your hill to\\nCalvary. Mount it bravely, but meekly; and remember! not a word\\nof reproach, not a blow nor a struggle. Go. (They go out through\\nthe passage. He turns to Lavinia) Farewell.\\n\\nLAVINIA. You forget: I must follow before you are cold.\\n\",\n \"adiators.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. It does not hurt a man to kill him.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Nothing but faith can save you.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Faith! Which faith? There are two faiths. There is our\\nfaith. And there is the warrior's faith, the faith in fighting,\\nthe faith that sees God in the sword. How if that faith should\\noverwhelm me?\\n\\nLAVINIA. You will find your real faith in the hour of trial.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. That is what I fear. I know\",\n \"with great difficulty).\\n\\nTHE CENTURION (to Lavinia) Here are some pals for you. This\\nlittle bit is Ferrovius that you talk so much about. (Ferrovius\\nturns on him threateningly. The Centurion holds up his left\\nforefinger in admonition). Now remember that you're a Christian,\\nand that you've got to return good for evil. (Ferrovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent\",\n \"Ferrovius) You turn the other cheek when you're\\nstruck, I'm told.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (slowly turning his great eyes on him) Yes, by the\\ngrace of God, I do, NOW.\\n\\nLENTULUS. Not that you're a coward, of course; but out of pure\\npiety.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I fear God more than man; at least I try to.\\n\\nLENTULUS. Let's see. (He strikes him on the cheek. Androcles\\nm\",\n \"\\nFERROVIUS. Dog of an apostate. Iscariot!\\n\\nSPINTHO. I'll repent afterwards. I fully mean to die in the arena\\nI'll die a martyr and go to heaven; but not this time, not now,\\nnot until my nerves are better. Besides, I'm too young: I want to\\nhave just one more good time. (The gladiators laugh at him). Oh,\\nwill no one tell me where the altar is? (He dashes into the\\npassage and vanishes).\\n\\nANDROCLES\",\n \"(rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you\\nforget.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort) Oh, my temper, my\\nwicked temper! (To the Editor, as Lavinia sits down again,\\nreassured). Forgive me, brother. My heart was full of wrath: I\\nshould have been thinking of your dear precious soul.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Yah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously,\\nand goes back to his seat).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (contin\",\n \"doubt contrive a happy\\nrelease for you. Which is Ferrovius?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I am he.\\n\\nCAESAR. They tell me you can fight.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. It is easy to fight. I can die, Caesar.\\n\\nCAESAR. That is still easier, is it not?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Not to me, Caesar. Death comes hard to my flesh; and\\nfighting comes very easily to my spirit (beating his breast and\\nlamenting) O sinner that I am! (He throws\",\n \"be put off by a swine like that.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Peace, peace: tempt him not. Get thee behind him,\\nSatan.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (flushing with rage) For two pins I'd take a turn in\\nthe arena myself to-day, and pay you out for daring to talk to me\\nlike that.\\n\\nFerrovius springs forward.\\n\\nLAVINIA (rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you\\nforget.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort\",\n \"CLES (scrambling to his feet and running into the middle of\\nthe space between the staircases) It's dreadful. Now I want to\\nfight. I can't bear the sight of a whip. The only time I ever hit\\na man was when he lashed an old horse with a whip. It was\\nterrible: I danced on his face when he was on the ground. He\\nmustn't strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so\",\n \"ebly).\\nYou know, I should feel ashamed if I let myself be struck like\\nthat, and took it lying down. But then I'm not a Christian: I'm a\\nman. (Ferrovius rises impressively and towers over him. Lentulus\\nbecomes white with terror; and a shade of green flickers in his\\ncheek for a moment).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (with the calm of a steam hammer) I have not always\\nbeen faithful. The first man who struck me as you have just\\nstruck me was a stronger man than\",\n \"Metellus follows Lentulus. The Centurion returns to his seat to\\nresume his interrupted nap. The deepest awe has settled on the\\nspectators. Ferrovius, with a long sigh of happiness, goes to\\nLavinia, and offers her his hand.\\n\\nLAVINIA (taking it) So that is how you convert people, Ferrovius.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Yes: there has been a blessing on my work in spite of\\nmy unworthiness and my backslidings--all through my wicked,\\ndevilish temper.\",\n \"ah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously,\\nand goes back to his seat).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (continuing) And I forgot it all: I thought of nothing\\nbut offering to fight you with one hand tied behind me.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (turning pugnaciously) What!\\n\\nFERROVIUS (on the border line between zeal and ferocity) Oh,\\ndon't give way to pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so\\neasily. I could--\\n\\nThey are separated by the Men\",\n \"ROVIUS (starting convulsively) Heaven give me strength!\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Aha! That frightens you, does it?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Man: there is no terror like the terror of that sound\\nto me. When I hear a trumpet or a drum or the clash of steel or\\nthe hum of the catapult as the great stone flies, fire runs\\nthrough my veins: I feel my blood surge up hot behind my eyes: I\\nmust charge: I must strike: I must conquer: Caesar himself will\\nnot be safe in his\",\n \"something, Ferrovius.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. How about the Pretorian Guard now?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. In my youth I worshipped Mars, the God of War. I\\nturned from him to serve the Christian god; but today the\\nChristian god forsook me; and Mars overcame me and took back his\\nown. The Christian god is not yet. He will come when Mars and I\\nare dust; but meanwhile I must serve the gods that are, not the\\nGod that will be. Until then I accept service in the Guard,\\n\",\n \"LAVINIA. You will find your real faith in the hour of trial.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. That is what I fear. I know that I am a fighter. How\\ncan I feel sure that I am a Christian?\\n\\nANDROCLES. Throw away the sword, brother.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I cannot. It cleaves to my hand. I could as easily\\nthrow a woman I loved from my arms. (Starting) Who spoke that\\nblasphemy? Not I.\\n\\nLAVINIA. I can't help you, friend. I\",\n \"But I'm convinced already that what\\nyou said is quite right. I apologize for striking you.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (greatly pleased) My son: have I softened your heart?\\nHas the good seed fallen in a fruitful place? Are your feet\\nturning towards a better path?\\n\\nLENTULUS (abjectly) Yes, yes. There's a great deal in what you\\nsay.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (radiant) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering\\nand death.\\n\\nLENTULUS (fall\",\n \"without hurting anybody? Don't fight them. Burn the\\nincense.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Burn the incense! Never.\\n\\nLAVINIA. That is only pride, Ferrovius.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. ONLY pride! What is nobler than pride? (Conscience\\nstricken) Oh, I'm steeped in sin. I'm proud of my pride.\\n\\nLAVINIA. They say we Christians are the proudest devils on\\nearth--that only the weak are meek. Oh, I am worse than you\",\n \"rovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at\",\n \"strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so a\\ngreat clamor is heard from the arena, ending in wild applause.\\nThe gladiators listen and look inquiringly at one another).\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. What's up now?\\n\\nLAVINIA (to the Captain) What has happened, do you think?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.\\n\\nANDROCLES (running in through\"\n ],\n [\n \". They say we Christians are the proudest devils on\\nearth--that only the weak are meek. Oh, I am worse than you. I ought\\nto send you to death; and I am tempting you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Brother, brother: let THEM rage and kill: let US be\\nbrave and suffer. You must go as a lamb to the slaughter.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Aye, aye: that is right. Not as a lamb is slain by the\\nbutcher; but as a butcher might let himself be sl\",\n \", who stands as on parade to let\\nhim pass). The Call Boy comes from the passage, followed by\\nthree attendants carrying respectively a bundle of swords, some\\nhelmets, and some breastplates and pieces of armor which they\\nthrow down in a heap.\\n\\nTHE CALL BOY. By your leave, Caesar. Number eleven! Gladiators\\nand Christians!\\n\\nFerrovius springs up, ready for martyrdom. The other Christians\\ntake the summons as best they can, some joyful and brave, some\\npatient and dignified, some tearful\",\n \". Nobody let him. He let himself.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\\n\\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH\",\n \") This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\\nsuddenness).\\n\\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\\nlike that. (The lion\",\n \"You are right: it was silly thing to say. (In a\\nlower tone, humane and urgent) Lavinia: do Christians know how to\\nlove?\\n\\nLAVINIA (composedly) Yes, Captain: they love even their enemies.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. Is that easy?\\n\\nLAVINIA. Very easy, Captain, when their enemies are as handsome\\nas you.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. Lavinia: you are laughing at me.\\n\\nLAVINIA. At you, Captain! Impossible.\\n\\nTHE CAP\",\n \"of\\nthe leading pastors of the Free Churches in London denounced my\\nplay on the ground that my persecuting Emperor is a very fine\\nfellow, and the persecuted Christians ridiculous. From which I\\nconclude that a popular pulpit may be as perilous to a man's soul\\nas an imperial throne.\\n\\nAll my articulate Christians, the reader will notice, have\\ndifferent enthusiasms, which they accept as the same religion\\nonly because it involves them in a common opposition to the\\nofficial religion and consequently in a common doom. Androcles\",\n \"my duty to call your\\nattention to them in order that you may have no ground for\\ncomplaining of your treatment, or of accusing the Emperor of\\ncruelty when he is showing you the most signal clemency.\\nLooked at from this point of view, every Christian who has\\nperished in the arena has really committed suicide.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Captain: your jokes are too grim. Do not think it is\\neasy for us to die. Our faith makes life far stronger and more\\nwonderful in us than when we walked in darkness and had nothing\\n\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\\nChristian man's nice big tender wifey pifey. (The lion responds\\nby moans of self-pity). Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Now, now (taking\\nthe paw in his hand) um is not to bite and not to scratch, not\\neven if it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws.\\nThat's right. (He pulls gingerly at the thorn\",\n \"\\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting. (To the Editor) What are you\\ndreaming of, man? Send your men in at once.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Yes, Sir: it's these Christians hanging back.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (in a voice of thunder) Liar!\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (not heeding him) March. (The gladiators told off to\\nfight with the Christians march down the passage) Follow up\\nthere, you\",\n \"\\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\\n\\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\\n\\nCENTURION. Silence!\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\\nImper\",\n \"\\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CHRISTIANS. What! Ate him!\\nHow frightful! How terrible! Without a moment to repent! God be\\nmerciful to him, a sinner! Oh, I can't bear to think of it! In\\nthe midst of his sin! Horrible, horrible! THE EDITOR. Serve the\\nrotter right! THE GLADIATORS. Just walked into it, he did. He's\\n\",\n \"as the same religion\\nonly because it involves them in a common opposition to the\\nofficial religion and consequently in a common doom. Androcles is\\na humanitarian naturalist, whose views surprise everybody.\\nLavinia, a clever and fearless freethinker, shocks the Pauline\\nFerrovius, who is comparatively stupid and conscience ridden.\\nSpintho, the blackguardly debauchee, is presented as one of the\\ntypical Christians of that period on the authority of St.\\nAugustine, who seems to have come to the conclusion\",\n \"TAIN. What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing\\nthat you should die for such nonsense, and that I should look on\\nhelplessly when my whole soul cries out against it! Die then if\\nyou must; but at least I can cut the Emperor's throat and then my\\nown when I see your blood.\\n\\nThe Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears\\nin wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\\ngladiators spring to their feet.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will\",\n \"slaves.\\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\\n\\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\\n\\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\\nChristian for the new lion.\\n\\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\\nwas to be, after all.\\n\\nLAVINIA.\",\n \"history. Once, in Domitian's time, a\\nGaul slew three men in the arena and gained his freedom. But when\\nbefore has one naked man slain six armed men of the bravest and\\nbest? The persecution shall cease: if Christians can fight like\\nthis, I shall have none but Christians to fight for me. (To the\\nGladiators) You are ordered to become Christians, you there: do\\nyou hear?\\n\\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\\nnet, the\",\n \"ed to-day in the\\narena. You shall have arms; and there will be no more than one\\ngladiator to each Christian. If you come out of the arena alive,\\nI will consider favorably any request of yours, and give you a\\nplace in the Pretorian Guard. Even if the request be that no\\nquestions be asked about your faith I shall perhaps not refuse\\nit.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I will not fight. I will die. Better stand with the\\narchangels than with the Pretorian Guard.\\n\\nCAESAR. I\",\n \"home and your friends, and sacrifice to the gods as\\nall respectable people do, instead of having us hunted out of\\nhouse and home for being dirty, disreputable, blaspheming\\natheists.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm not an atheist, dear: I am a Christian.\\n\\nMEGAERA. Well, isn't that the same thing, only ten times worse?\\nEverybody knows that the Christians are the very lowest of the\\nlow.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Just like us, dear.\\n\\nMEGAERA\",\n \"knows that the Christians are the very lowest of the\\nlow.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Just like us, dear.\\n\\nMEGAERA. Speak for yourself. Don't you dare to compare me to\\ncommon people. My father owned his own public-house; and\\nsorrowful was the day for me when you first came drinking in our\\nbar.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I confess I was addicted to it, dear. But I gave it\\nup when I became a Christian.\\n\\nMEGAERA. You'd much better have remained a drunkard.\",\n \"s where you'll be\\nthrown to the lions or set to fight the gladiators presently.\\nThink of that; and it'll help you to behave properly before the\\ncaptain. (The Captain arrives). Attention! Salute! (The soldiers\\nsalute).\\n\\nA CHRISTIAN (cheerfully) God bless you, Captain.\\n\\nTHE CENTURION (scandalised) Silence!\\n\\nThe Captain, a patrician, handsome, about thirty-five, very cold\\nand distinguished, very superior and authoritative, steps\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \"iteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\\nChristian man\",\n \".\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\\n\\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\\nfeel as if I were killing you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't think of\",\n \"slaves.\\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\\n\\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\\n\\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\\nChristian for the new lion.\\n\\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\\nwas to be, after all.\\n\\nLAVINIA.\",\n \"the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\\ncheerful side to everything.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \". Nobody let him. He let himself.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\\n\\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH\",\n \"LAVINIA (sitting down again) Poor Spintho! And it won't even\\ncount as martyrdom!\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Serve him right! What call had he to walk down the\\nthroat of one of my lions before he was asked?\\n\\nANDROCLES. Perhaps the lion won't eat me now.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Yes: that's just like a Christian: think only of\\nyourself! What am I to do? What am I to say to the Emperor when\\nhe sees one of my lions coming\",\n \"Andy. Save me.\\n\\nANDROCLES (rising) Meggy: there's one chance for you. It'll take\\nhim pretty nigh twenty minutes to eat me (I'm rather stringy and\\ntough) and you can escape in less time than that.\\n\\nMEGAERA. Oh, don't talk about eating. (The lion rises with a\\ngreat groan and limps towards them). Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\n\",\n \"is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"t give way to pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so\\neasily. I could--\\n\\nThey are separated by the Menagerie Keeper, who rushes in from\\nthe passage, furious.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Here's a nice business! Who let that Christian out of\\nhere down to the dens when we were changing the lion into the\\ncage next the arena?\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Nobody let him. He let himself.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\\n\\nConsternation. The\",\n \") This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\\nsuddenness).\\n\\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\\nlike that. (The lion\",\n \"CLES (scrambling to his feet and running into the middle of\\nthe space between the staircases) It's dreadful. Now I want to\\nfight. I can't bear the sight of a whip. The only time I ever hit\\na man was when he lashed an old horse with a whip. It was\\nterrible: I danced on his face when he was on the ground. He\\nmustn't strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"keeper comes from\\nthe passage with other keepers armed with iron bars and\\ntridents). Take those things away. I have subdued the beast. (He\\nplaces his foot on it).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (timidly approaching the Emperor and looking down with\\nawe on the lion) It is strange that I, who fear no man, should\\nfear a lion.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. Every man fears something, Ferrovius.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. How about the Pretorian Guard now?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. In\",\n \"\\nyou hear?\\n\\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\\nnet, the story would have been different.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN (suddenly seizing Lavinia by the wrist and dragging\\nher up the steps to the Emperor) Caesar this woman is the sister\\nof Ferrovius. If she is thrown to the lions he will fret. He will\\nlose weight; get out of condition.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The lions? Nonsense! (To Lavinia\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"\\nvestal virgins want to have one of his pet fighting men killed.\\n\\nANDROCLES. But don't they ever just only pretend to kill one\\nanother? Why shouldn't you pretend to die, and get dragged out as\\nif you were dead; and then get up and go home, like an actor?\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. See here: you want to know too much. There will be no\\npretending about the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord\",\n \"iable as we, crowded to see the lions eat him\\njust as they now crowd the lion-house in the Zoo at feeding-time,\\nnot because they really cared two-pence about Diana or Christ, or\\ncould have given you any intelligent or correct account of the\\nthings Diana and Christ stood against one another for, but simply\\nbecause they wanted to see a curious and exciting spectacle. You,\\ndear reader, have probably run to see a fire; and if somebody\\ncame in now and told you that a lion was chasing a man down the\\nstreet you would rush\",\n \". Nobody let him. He let himself.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\\n\\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH\",\n \"it comes close, all the imaginary things--all\\nthe stories, as you call them--fade into mere dreams beside that\\ninexorable reality. I know now that I am not dying for stories or\\ndreams. Did you hear of the dreadful thing that happened here\\nwhile we were waiting?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. I heard that one of your fellows bolted, and ran\\nright into the jaws of the lion. I laughed. I still laugh.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Then you don't understand what that meant?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN.\",\n \"lion's belly. The lion wriggles\\necstatically). Come and pet him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I must conquer these unkingly terrors. Mind you\\ndon't go away from him, though. (He pats the lion's chest).\\n\\nANDROCLES. Oh, sir, how few men would have the courage to do\\nthat--\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. Yes: it takes a bit of nerve. Let us invite the\\nCourt in and frighten them. Is he safe, do you think?\\n\\nANDROC\",\n \"\\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\\n\\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\\n\\nCENTURION. Silence!\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\\nImper\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"been promised it; and they will tear the\\ndecorations to bits if they are disappointed.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. True, true: we must have somebody for the new lion.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Throw me to him. Let the apostate perish.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. No, no: you would tear him in pieces, my friend; and\\nwe cannot afford to throw away lions as if they were mere slaves.\\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\\n\\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \"springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \"matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\\nan effort and totters after him).\\n\\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\\n\\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\n\",\n \"(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\\nbundle).\\n\\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \"it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws.\\nThat's right. (He pulls gingerly at the thorn. The lion, with an\\nangry yell of pain, jerks back his paw so abruptly that Androcles\\nis thrown on his back). Steadeee! Oh, did the nasty cruel little\\nChristian man hurt the sore paw? (The lion moans assentingly but\\napologetically). Well, one more little pull and it will be all\\nover. Just one little, little, leetle pull; and then\",\n \"the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\\ncheerful side to everything.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"back, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's robe.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that!\\nLet go the Emperor's robe at once, sir: where's your manners?\\n(The lion growls and worries the robe). Don't pull it away from\\nhim, your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The\",\n \", your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The lion growls again)\\nI'll tell you what it is, sir: he thinks you and I are not\\nfriends.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (trying to undo the clasp of his brooch) Friends! You\\ninfernal scoundrel (the lion growls) don't let him go. Curse this\\nbrooch! I can't get it loose.\\n\\nANDROCLES. We must\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\n\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \".\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\\n\\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\\nfeel as if I were killing you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't think of\",\n \"say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\n\",\n \"is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"back, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's robe.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that!\\nLet go the Emperor's robe at once, sir: where's your manners?\\n(The lion growls and worries the robe). Don't pull it away from\\nhim, your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The\",\n \"the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\\ncheerful side to everything.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'\",\n \"matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously towards the spot indicated by Megaera. She rises with\\nan effort and totters after him).\\n\\nMEGAERA. No, Andy: you'll be killed. Come back.\\n\\nThe lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and\\nrecoils fainting into the arms of Megaera, who falls back on the\\nbundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another.\",\n \"springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and\"\n ],\n [\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"back, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's robe.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that!\\nLet go the Emperor's robe at once, sir: where's your manners?\\n(The lion growls and worries the robe). Don't pull it away from\\nhim, your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The\",\n \"springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \".\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\\n\\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\\nfeel as if I were killing you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't think of\",\n \"rovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\n\",\n \") This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\\nsuddenness).\\n\\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\\nlike that. (The lion\",\n \"say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\n\",\n \"SPINTHO (rising and running about in abject terror) I never\\nthought of that. O Lord, spare me to be martyred. Oh, what a\\nthought to put into the mind of a brother! Oh, let me be martyred\\ntoday, now. I shall die in the night and go to hell. You're a\\nsorcerer: you've put death into my mind. Oh, curse you, curse\\nyou! (He tries to seize Androcles by the throat).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (holding him in a grip of\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \".\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\\n\\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\\nfeel as if I were killing you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't think of\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\n\",\n \"the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\\ncheerful side to everything.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'\",\n \"is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \". I told you they were\\nbrutes.\\n\\nLENTULUS. Plucky little filly! I suppose she thinks I care. (With\\nan air of indifference he strolls with Metellus to the east side\\nof the square, where they stand watching the return of the\\nCenturion through the western arch with his men, escorting three\\nprisoners: Ferrovius, Androcles, and Spintho. Ferrovius is a\\npowerful, choleric man in the prime of life, with large nostrils,\\nstaring eyes, and a thick\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"iteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\\nChristian man\",\n \"rovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at\",\n \"slaves.\\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\\n\\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\\n\\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\\nChristian for the new lion.\\n\\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\\nwas to be, after all.\\n\\nLAVINIA.\",\n \"in the custody of a cohort of the tenth legion. Among\\nthese prisoners you will particularly identify an armorer named\\nFerrovius, of dangerous character and great personal strength,\\nand a Greek tailor reputed to be a sorcerer, by name Androcles.\\nYou will add the three to your charge here and march them all to\\nthe Coliseum, where you will deliver them into the custody of the\\nmaster of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\\nyour\"\n ],\n [\n \"by\\nofficers of this regiment, of which she can have her choice the\\nmoment she chooses to sacrifice as all well-bred Roman ladies do.\\nI have no more to say to the prisoners.\\n\\nCENTURION. Dismiss! But stay where you are.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. Centurion: you will remain here with your men in\\ncharge of the prisoners until the arrival of three Christian\\nprisoners in the custody of a cohort of the tenth legion. Among\\nthese prisoners you will particularly identify an armorer named\\nFerrov\",\n \"us is manly, compactly built, olive\\nskinned, not a talker.\\n\\nLENTULUS. Christians, by Jove! Let's chaff them.\\n\\nMETELLUS. Awful brutes. If you knew as much about them as I do\\nyou wouldn't want to chaff them. Leave them to the lions.\\n\\nLENTULUS (indicating Lavinia, who is still looking towards the\\narches after the captain). That woman's got a figure. (He walks\\npast her, staring at her invitingly,\",\n \"ence!\\n\\nThe Captain, a patrician, handsome, about thirty-five, very cold\\nand distinguished, very superior and authoritative, steps up on a\\nstone seat at the west side of the square, behind the centurion,\\nso as to dominate the others more effectually.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. Centurion.\\n\\nTHE CENTURION. (standing at attention and saluting) Sir?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN (speaking stiffly and officially) You will remind\\nyour men, Centurion, that we are now entering Rome.\",\n \"tone) I call the\\nattention of the female prisoner to the fact that Christians are\\nnot allowed to draw the Emperor's officers into arguments and put\\nquestions to them for which the military regulations provide no\\nanswer. (The Christians titter).\\n\\nLAVINIA. Captain: how CAN you?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. I call the female prisoner's attention specially to\\nthe fact that four comfortable homes have been offered her by\\nofficers of this regiment, of which she can have her choice the\\nmoment she chooses to sacrifice as all well-bred Roman\",\n \"of dependence upon the prisoners, especially the female\\nprisoners, for cooking, repairs to uniforms, writing letters, and\\nadvice in their private affairs. In a Roman soldier such\\ndependence is inadmissible. Let me see no more of it whilst we\\nare in the city. Further, your orders are that in addressing\\nChristian prisoners, the manners and tone of your men must\\nexpress abhorrence and contempt. Any shortcoming in this respect\\nwill be regarded as a breach of discipline.(He turns to the\\nprisoners) Prisoners.\\n\\nCENTURION\",\n \"s where you'll be\\nthrown to the lions or set to fight the gladiators presently.\\nThink of that; and it'll help you to behave properly before the\\ncaptain. (The Captain arrives). Attention! Salute! (The soldiers\\nsalute).\\n\\nA CHRISTIAN (cheerfully) God bless you, Captain.\\n\\nTHE CENTURION (scandalised) Silence!\\n\\nThe Captain, a patrician, handsome, about thirty-five, very cold\\nand distinguished, very superior and authoritative, steps\",\n \"Roman\\nsoldier!\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. It will soon be iron again. I have seen many women\\ndie, and forgotten them in a week.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Remember me for a fortnight, handsome Captain. I shall\\nbe watching you, perhaps.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. From the skies? Do not deceive yourself, Lavinia.\\nThere is no future for you beyond the grave.\\n\\nLAVINIA. What does that matter? Do you think I am only running\\naway from the terrors of life into the comfort of heaven\",\n \".\\n\\nCENTURION. You'll find out how funny it is when you're thrown to\\nthe lions to-morrow. (To the Captain, who looks displeased) Beg\\npardon, Sir. (To the Christians) Silennnnce!\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. You are to instruct your men that all intimacy with\\nChristian prisoners must now cease. The men have fallen into\\nhabits of dependence upon the prisoners, especially the female\\nprisoners, for cooking, repairs to uniforms, writing letters, and\\nadvice in their private affairs\",\n \"-prisoners. A\\ncenturion, carrying his vinewood cudgel, trudges alongside the\\nsquad, on its right, in command of it. All are tired and dusty;\\nbut the soldiers are dogged and indifferent, the Christians\\nlight-hearted and determined to treat their hardships as a joke\\nand encourage one another.\\n\\nA bugle is heard far behind on the road, where the rest of the\\ncohort is following.\\n\\nCENTURION (stopping) Halt! Orders from the Captain. (They halt\\nand wait).\",\n \"IN. Lavinia: you are laughing at me.\\n\\nLAVINIA. At you, Captain! Impossible.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. Then you are flirting with me, which is worse. Don't\\nbe foolish.\\n\\nLAVINIA. But such a very handsome captain.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. Incorrigible! (Urgently) Listen to me. The men in\\nthat audience tomorrow will be the vilest of voluptuaries: men in\\nwhom the only passion excited by a beautiful woman is a lust to\\nsee\",\n \"enth with\\nprisoners. Two file out with me to receive them. (He goes out\\nthrough the western arch, followed by four soldiers in two\\nfiles).\\n\\nLentulus and Metellus come into the square from the west side\\nwith a little retinue of servants. Both are young courtiers,\\ndressed in the extremity of fashion. Lentulus is slender,\\nfair-haired, epicene. Metellus is manly, compactly built, olive\\nskinned, not a talker.\\n\\nLENTULUS. Christians, by Jove!\",\n \"in the custody of a cohort of the tenth legion. Among\\nthese prisoners you will particularly identify an armorer named\\nFerrovius, of dangerous character and great personal strength,\\nand a Greek tailor reputed to be a sorcerer, by name Androcles.\\nYou will add the three to your charge here and march them all to\\nthe Coliseum, where you will deliver them into the custody of the\\nmaster of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\\nyour\",\n \"of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\\nyour instructions?\\n\\nCENTURION. Yes, Sir.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. Dismiss. (He throws off his air of parade, and\\ndescends down from the perch. The Centurion seats on it and\\nprepares for a nap, whilst his men stand at ease. The Christians\\nsit down on the west side of the square, glad to rest. Lavinia\\nalone remains standing to speak to the\",\n \"I tell you! Keep silence there.\\nDid anyone ever hear the like of this?\\n\\nLAVINIA. Captain: there will be nobody to appreciate your jokes\\nwhen we are gone.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN (unshaken in his official delivery) I call the\\nattention of the female prisoner Lavinia to the fact that as the\\nEmperor is a divine personage, her imputation of cruelty is not\\nonly treason, but sacrilege. I point out to her further that\\nthere is no foundation for the charge, as the Emperor does not\\ndesire\",\n \". Let my death atone for both. I\\nfeel as if I were killing you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't think of me, sister. Think of yourself. That\\nwill keep your heart up.\\n\\nThe Captain laughs sardonically.\\n\\nLAVINIA (startled: she had forgotten his presence) Are you there,\\nhandsome Captain? Have you come to see me die?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN (coming to her side) I am on duty with the Emperor,\\nLavinia.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Is it\",\n \"towards the\\narches after the captain). That woman's got a figure. (He walks\\npast her, staring at her invitingly, but she is preoccupied and\\nis not conscious of him). Do you turn the other cheek when they\\nkiss you?\\n\\nLAVINIA (starting) What?\\n\\nLENTULus. Do you turn the other cheek when they kiss you,\\nfascinating Christian?\\n\\nLAVINIA. Don't be foolish. (To Metellus, who has remained on her\\nright, so that she is between them\",\n \"\\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\\n\\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\\n\\nCENTURION. Silence!\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\\nImper\",\n \"\\nTHE CAPTAIN (speaking stiffly and officially) You will remind\\nyour men, Centurion, that we are now entering Rome. You will\\ninstruct them that once inside the gates of Rome they are in the\\npresence of the Emperor. You will make them understand that the\\nlax discipline of the march cannot be permitted here. You will\\ninstruct them to shave every day, not every week. You will\\nimpress on them particularly that there must be an end to the\\nprofanity and blasphemy of singing Christian hymns on the march.\\nI\",\n \"then my pride may never become a false\\npride. (She turns away as if she did not wish to continue the\\nconversation, but softens and says to him with a smile) Thank you\\nfor trying to save me from death.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. I knew it was no use; but one tries in spite of\\none's knowledge.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Something stirs, even in the iron breast of a Roman\\nsoldier!\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. It will soon be iron again. I have seen many women\\ndie, and forgotten them\",\n \"in this respect\\nwill be regarded as a breach of discipline.(He turns to the\\nprisoners) Prisoners.\\n\\nCENTURION (fiercely) Prisonerrrrrs! Tention! Silence!\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. I call your attention, prisoners, to the fact that\\nyou may be called on to appear in the Imperial Circus at any time\\nfrom tomorrow onwards according to the requirements of the\\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\nFERROVIUS. Dog of an apostate. Iscariot!\\n\\nSPINTHO. I'll repent afterwards. I fully mean to die in the arena\\nI'll die a martyr and go to heaven; but not this time, not now,\\nnot until my nerves are better. Besides, I'm too young: I want to\\nhave just one more good time. (The gladiators laugh at him). Oh,\\nwill no one tell me where the altar is? (He dashes into the\\npassage and vanishes).\\n\\nANDROCLES\",\n \"FERROVIUS (interposing) Touch them, dogs; and we die here, and\\ncheat the heathen of their spectacle. (To his fellow Christians)\\nBrothers: the great moment has come. That passage is your hill to\\nCalvary. Mount it bravely, but meekly; and remember! not a word\\nof reproach, not a blow nor a struggle. Go. (They go out through\\nthe passage. He turns to Lavinia) Farewell.\\n\\nLAVINIA. You forget: I must follow before you are cold.\\n\",\n \"FERROVIUS (radiant) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering\\nand death.\\n\\nLENTULUS (falling on his knees and bursting into tears) Oh, help\\nme. Mother! mother!\\n\\nFERROVIUS. These tears will water your soul and make it bring\\nforth good fruit, my son. God has greatly blessed my efforts at\\nconversion. Shall I tell you a miracle--yes, a miracle--wrought\\nby me in Cappadocia? A young man--just such a one as you, with\\ngold\",\n \"Metellus follows Lentulus. The Centurion returns to his seat to\\nresume his interrupted nap. The deepest awe has settled on the\\nspectators. Ferrovius, with a long sigh of happiness, goes to\\nLavinia, and offers her his hand.\\n\\nLAVINIA (taking it) So that is how you convert people, Ferrovius.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Yes: there has been a blessing on my work in spite of\\nmy unworthiness and my backslidings--all through my wicked,\\ndevilish temper.\",\n \"be put off by a swine like that.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Peace, peace: tempt him not. Get thee behind him,\\nSatan.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (flushing with rage) For two pins I'd take a turn in\\nthe arena myself to-day, and pay you out for daring to talk to me\\nlike that.\\n\\nFerrovius springs forward.\\n\\nLAVINIA (rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you\\nforget.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort\",\n \"Ferrovius) You turn the other cheek when you're\\nstruck, I'm told.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (slowly turning his great eyes on him) Yes, by the\\ngrace of God, I do, NOW.\\n\\nLENTULUS. Not that you're a coward, of course; but out of pure\\npiety.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I fear God more than man; at least I try to.\\n\\nLENTULUS. Let's see. (He strikes him on the cheek. Androcles\\nm\",\n \"with great difficulty).\\n\\nTHE CENTURION (to Lavinia) Here are some pals for you. This\\nlittle bit is Ferrovius that you talk so much about. (Ferrovius\\nturns on him threateningly. The Centurion holds up his left\\nforefinger in admonition). Now remember that you're a Christian,\\nand that you've got to return good for evil. (Ferrovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent\",\n \"(rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you\\nforget.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort) Oh, my temper, my\\nwicked temper! (To the Editor, as Lavinia sits down again,\\nreassured). Forgive me, brother. My heart was full of wrath: I\\nshould have been thinking of your dear precious soul.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Yah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously,\\nand goes back to his seat).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (contin\",\n \"But I'm convinced already that what\\nyou said is quite right. I apologize for striking you.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (greatly pleased) My son: have I softened your heart?\\nHas the good seed fallen in a fruitful place? Are your feet\\nturning towards a better path?\\n\\nLENTULUS (abjectly) Yes, yes. There's a great deal in what you\\nsay.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (radiant) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering\\nand death.\\n\\nLENTULUS (fall\",\n \"adiators.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. It does not hurt a man to kill him.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Nothing but faith can save you.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Faith! Which faith? There are two faiths. There is our\\nfaith. And there is the warrior's faith, the faith in fighting,\\nthe faith that sees God in the sword. How if that faith should\\noverwhelm me?\\n\\nLAVINIA. You will find your real faith in the hour of trial.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. That is what I fear. I know\",\n \"something, Ferrovius.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. How about the Pretorian Guard now?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. In my youth I worshipped Mars, the God of War. I\\nturned from him to serve the Christian god; but today the\\nChristian god forsook me; and Mars overcame me and took back his\\nown. The Christian god is not yet. He will come when Mars and I\\nare dust; but meanwhile I must serve the gods that are, not the\\nGod that will be. Until then I accept service in the Guard,\\n\",\n \"rovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at\",\n \"rovius is a\\npowerful, choleric man in the prime of life, with large nostrils,\\nstaring eyes, and a thick neck: a man whose sensibilities are\\nkeen and violent to the verge of madness. Spintho is a debauchee,\\nthe wreck of a good-looking man gone hopelessly to the bad.\\nAndrocles is overwhelmed with grief, and is restraining his tears\\nwith great difficulty).\\n\\nTHE CENTURION (to Lavinia) Here are some pals for you. This\\nlittle bit is Fer\",\n \"strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so a\\ngreat clamor is heard from the arena, ending in wild applause.\\nThe gladiators listen and look inquiringly at one another).\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. What's up now?\\n\\nLAVINIA (to the Captain) What has happened, do you think?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.\\n\\nANDROCLES (running in through\",\n \"The gladiators\\ndraw their swords nervously.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut off\\nthis right hand: it has offended. Ye have swords, my brethren:\\nstrike.\\n\\nLAVINIA. No, no. What have you done, Ferrovius?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I know not; but there was blood behind my eyes; and\\nthere's blood on my sword. What does that mean?\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (enthusiastically, on the landing outside\",\n \"ah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously,\\nand goes back to his seat).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (continuing) And I forgot it all: I thought of nothing\\nbut offering to fight you with one hand tied behind me.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (turning pugnaciously) What!\\n\\nFERROVIUS (on the border line between zeal and ferocity) Oh,\\ndon't give way to pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so\\neasily. I could--\\n\\nThey are separated by the Men\",\n \"EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy\\nof delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He shall have a laurel\\ncrown.\\n\\nFerrovius, madly waving his bloodstained sword, rushes through\\nthe passage in despair, followed by his co-religionists, and by\\nthe menagerie keeper, who goes to the gladiators. The gladiators\\ndraw their swords nervously.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut\",\n \"ebly).\\nYou know, I should feel ashamed if I let myself be struck like\\nthat, and took it lying down. But then I'm not a Christian: I'm a\\nman. (Ferrovius rises impressively and towers over him. Lentulus\\nbecomes white with terror; and a shade of green flickers in his\\ncheek for a moment).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (with the calm of a steam hammer) I have not always\\nbeen faithful. The first man who struck me as you have just\\nstruck me was a stronger man than\",\n \"his friend, young man. You will see that he\\nis taken safely home.\\n\\nMETELLUS (with awestruck civility) Certainly, sir. I shall do\\nwhatever you think best. Most happy to have made your acquaintance,\\nI'm sure. You may depend on me. Good evening, sir.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (with unction) The blessing of heaven upon you and him.\\n\\nMetellus follows Lentulus. The Centurion returns to his seat to\\nresume his interrupted nap. The deepest awe has settled on the\",\n \"CLES (scrambling to his feet and running into the middle of\\nthe space between the staircases) It's dreadful. Now I want to\\nfight. I can't bear the sight of a whip. The only time I ever hit\\na man was when he lashed an old horse with a whip. It was\\nterrible: I danced on his face when he was on the ground. He\\nmustn't strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"t give way to pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so\\neasily. I could--\\n\\nThey are separated by the Menagerie Keeper, who rushes in from\\nthe passage, furious.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Here's a nice business! Who let that Christian out of\\nhere down to the dens when we were changing the lion into the\\ncage next the arena?\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Nobody let him. He let himself.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\\n\\nConsternation. The\",\n \"\\nyou hear?\\n\\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\\nnet, the story would have been different.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN (suddenly seizing Lavinia by the wrist and dragging\\nher up the steps to the Emperor) Caesar this woman is the sister\\nof Ferrovius. If she is thrown to the lions he will fret. He will\\nlose weight; get out of condition.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The lions? Nonsense! (To Lavinia\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"CLES (scrambling to his feet and running into the middle of\\nthe space between the staircases) It's dreadful. Now I want to\\nfight. I can't bear the sight of a whip. The only time I ever hit\\na man was when he lashed an old horse with a whip. It was\\nterrible: I danced on his face when he was on the ground. He\\nmustn't strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"keeper comes from\\nthe passage with other keepers armed with iron bars and\\ntridents). Take those things away. I have subdued the beast. (He\\nplaces his foot on it).\\n\\nFERROVIUS (timidly approaching the Emperor and looking down with\\nawe on the lion) It is strange that I, who fear no man, should\\nfear a lion.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. Every man fears something, Ferrovius.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. How about the Pretorian Guard now?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. In\",\n \") This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\\nsuddenness).\\n\\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\\nlike that. (The lion\",\n \"\\nvestal virgins want to have one of his pet fighting men killed.\\n\\nANDROCLES. But don't they ever just only pretend to kill one\\nanother? Why shouldn't you pretend to die, and get dragged out as\\nif you were dead; and then get up and go home, like an actor?\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. See here: you want to know too much. There will be no\\npretending about the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord\",\n \". Nobody let him. He let himself.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\\n\\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH\",\n \"iable as we, crowded to see the lions eat him\\njust as they now crowd the lion-house in the Zoo at feeding-time,\\nnot because they really cared two-pence about Diana or Christ, or\\ncould have given you any intelligent or correct account of the\\nthings Diana and Christ stood against one another for, but simply\\nbecause they wanted to see a curious and exciting spectacle. You,\\ndear reader, have probably run to see a fire; and if somebody\\ncame in now and told you that a lion was chasing a man down the\\nstreet you would rush\",\n \"strike Ferrovius: I'll go into the arena and kill him\\nfirst. (He makes a wild dash into the passage. As he does so a\\ngreat clamor is heard from the arena, ending in wild applause.\\nThe gladiators listen and look inquiringly at one another).\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. What's up now?\\n\\nLAVINIA (to the Captain) What has happened, do you think?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.\\n\\nANDROCLES (running in through\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"it comes close, all the imaginary things--all\\nthe stories, as you call them--fade into mere dreams beside that\\ninexorable reality. I know now that I am not dying for stories or\\ndreams. Did you hear of the dreadful thing that happened here\\nwhile we were waiting?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. I heard that one of your fellows bolted, and ran\\nright into the jaws of the lion. I laughed. I still laugh.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Then you don't understand what that meant?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN.\",\n \"return\\nfrom the arena through the passage; Secutor covered with dust and\\nvery angry: Retiarius grinning.\\n\\nSECUTOR. Ha, the Emperor. Now we shall see. Caesar: I ask you\\nwhether it is fair for the Retiarius, instead of making a fair\\nthrow of his net at me, to swish it along the ground and throw\\nthe dust in my eyes, and then catch me when I'm blinded. If the\\nvestals had not turned up their thumbs I should have been a dead\\nman.\\n\\nCAESAR (hal\",\n \"slightest idea of harming them. Ladies and gentlemen: you are all\\nfree. Pray go into the front of the house and enjoy the spectacle\\nto which your brother has so splendidly contributed. Captain:\\noblige me by conducting them to the seats reserved for my\\npersonal friends.\\n\\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Caesar: I must have one Christian for the\\nlion. The people have been promised it; and they will tear the\\ndecorations to bits if they are disappointed.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. True, true: we\",\n \"\\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\\n\\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\\n\\nCENTURION. Silence!\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\\nImper\",\n \"met puts it on; and the two go into the arena, the net thrower\\ntaking out a little brush and arranging his hair as he goes, the\\nother tightening his straps and shaking his shoulders loose. Both\\nlook at themselves in the mirrors before they enter the passage.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Will they really kill one another?\\n\\nSPINTHO. Yes, if the people turn down their thumbs.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. You know nothing about it. The people indeed! Do you\\nsuppose we would kill a man worth perhaps fifty talents to please\\nthe r\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\n\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \".\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\\n\\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\\nfeel as if I were killing you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't think of\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \"\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\n\",\n \"is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid\",\n \"the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\\ncheerful side to everything.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"iteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\\nChristian man\",\n \"it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws.\\nThat's right. (He pulls gingerly at the thorn. The lion, with an\\nangry yell of pain, jerks back his paw so abruptly that Androcles\\nis thrown on his back). Steadeee! Oh, did the nasty cruel little\\nChristian man hurt the sore paw? (The lion moans assentingly but\\napologetically). Well, one more little pull and it will be all\\nover. Just one little, little, leetle pull; and then\"\n ],\n [\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \"\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\n\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \"\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches\\nhis back; purrs like a motor car; finally rubs himself against\\nAndrocles, knocking him over. Androcles, supporting himself on\\nhis wrist, looks affrightedly at the lion. The lion limps on\\nthree paws, holding up the other as if it was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid of him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I am NOT afraid of him. (The lion crouches,\\ngrowling. The Emperor clutches Androcles) Keep between us.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that's the\\ngreat secret. He'll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you\\nare his friend. Stand quite still; and smile; and\",\n \"say: all animals do: they take it from the tone of your\\nvoice. (The lion growls and lashes his tail). I think he's going\\nto spring at your worship. If you wouldn't mind saying something\\naffectionate. (The lion roars).\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (shaking Androcles' hands frantically) My dearest Mr.\\nAndrocles, my sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\n\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\\nbundle).\\n\\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"lost brother, come to my\\narms. (He embraces Androcles). Oh, what an abominable smell of\\ngarlic!\\n\\nThe lion lets go the robe and rolls over on his back, clasping\\nhis forepaws over one another coquettishly above his nose.\\n\\nANDROCLES. There! You see, your worship, a child might play with\\nhim now. See! (He tickles the lion's belly. The lion wriggles\\necstatically). Come and pet him.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I must conquer\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"back, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's robe.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that!\\nLet go the Emperor's robe at once, sir: where's your manners?\\n(The lion growls and worries the robe). Don't pull it away from\\nhim, your worship. He's only playing. Now I shall be really angry\\nwith you, Tommy, if you don't let go. (The\",\n \"rovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at\",\n \"iteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw. A\\nfrightfully big thorn. (Full of sympathy) Oh, poor old man! Did\\num get an awful thorn into um's tootsums wootsums? Has it made um\\ntoo sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um's breakfast?\\nOh, a nice little Christian man will get um's thorn out for um;\\nand then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice\\nChristian man\",\n \"paw to take away the nasty\\ninflammation. See? (He licks his own hand. The lion nods\\nintelligently and licks his paw industriously). Clever little\\nliony-piony! Understands um's dear old friend Andy Wandy. (The\\nlion licks his face). Yes, kissums Andy Wandy. (The lion,\\nwagging his tail violently, rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"in the custody of a cohort of the tenth legion. Among\\nthese prisoners you will particularly identify an armorer named\\nFerrovius, of dangerous character and great personal strength,\\nand a Greek tailor reputed to be a sorcerer, by name Androcles.\\nYou will add the three to your charge here and march them all to\\nthe Coliseum, where you will deliver them into the custody of the\\nmaster of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\\nyour\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \".\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\\n\\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\\nfeel as if I were killing you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't think of\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \". I told you they were\\nbrutes.\\n\\nLENTULUS. Plucky little filly! I suppose she thinks I care. (With\\nan air of indifference he strolls with Metellus to the east side\\nof the square, where they stand watching the return of the\\nCenturion through the western arch with his men, escorting three\\nprisoners: Ferrovius, Androcles, and Spintho. Ferrovius is a\\npowerful, choleric man in the prime of life, with large nostrils,\\nstaring eyes, and a thick\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\n\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \"think?\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.\\n\\nANDROCLES (running in through the passage, screaming with horror\\nand hiding his eyes)!!!\\n\\nLAVINIA. Androcles, Androcles: what's the matter?\\n\\nANDROCLES. Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me. Something too\\ndreadful. Oh! (He crouches by her and hides his face in her robe,\\nsobbing).\\n\\nTHE CALL Boy (rushing through\",\n \"slaves.\\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\\n\\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\\n\\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\\nChristian for the new lion.\\n\\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\\nwas to be, after all.\\n\\nLAVINIA.\",\n \"rovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"'s not a man's job. (He throws\\nhimself moodily into his chair).\\n\\nThe remaining gladiators go back to their former places\\nindifferently. The Call Boy shrugs his shoulders and squats down\\nat the entrance to the passage, near the Editor.\\n\\nLavinia and the Christian women sit down again, wrung with grief,\\nsome weeping silently, some praying, some calm and steadfast.\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDRO\",\n \"is guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most\\ndisgra-- (the lion charges at him up the stairs) help! (He\\ndisappears. The lion rears against the box; looks over the\\npartition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts out through the\\ndoor and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion.)\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't run away, sir: he can't help springing if you\\nrun. (He seizes the Emperor and gets between him and the lion,\\nwho stops at once). Don't be afraid\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound; then falls on his\\nknees and prays.\\n\\nThe grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena.\\nHe rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He\\nstops; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\",\n \"was wounded. A flash of\\nrecognition lights up the face of Androcles. He flaps his hand as\\nif it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the thorn out and\\nto hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles holds out\\nhis hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he shakes\\nwith enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round\\nthe arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they\",\n \", rises on his hind legs and embraces\\nAndrocles, who makes a wry face and cries) Velvet paws! Velvet\\npaws! (The lion draws in his claws). That's right. (He embraces\\nthe lion, who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw,\\nplaces that tight around Androcles' waist, resting it on his hip.\\nAndrocles takes the other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm,\\nand the two waltz rapturously round and round and finally away\\nthrough the\",\n \"how a tailor can die. Make\\nway for number twelve there. (He marches out along the passage).\\n\\nThe vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor\\nre-enter his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately\\nfrightened, but still marching with piteous devotion, emerges\\nfrom the other end of the passage, and finds himself at the focus\\nof thousands of eager eyes. The lion's cage, with a heavy\\nportcullis grating, is on his left. The Emperor gives a signal. A\\ngong\",\n \"the beasts.\\n\\nANDROCLES (distressed). Not if they are in cages. They should not\\nbe kept in cages. They must all be let out.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man\\nwho lays hands on him. (The menagerie keepers and the gladiators\\nrush for Androcles. The lion starts up and faces them. They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\n\",\n \"Oh! (She faints).\\n\\nANDROCLES (quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megaera)\\nDon't you come near my wife, do you hear? (The lion groans.\\nAndrocles can hardly stand for trembling). Meggy: run. Run for\\nyour life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (The lion holds\\nup his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles). Oh,\\nhe's lame, poor old chap! He's got a thorn in his paw.\",\n \") This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\\nsuddenness).\\n\\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\\nlike that. (The lion\",\n \"Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\npet if you like. (Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the\\nCenturion to Lavinia, and sits down contentedly on the ground on\\nher left). This dirty dog (collaring Spintho) is a real\\nChristian. He mobs the temples, he does (at each accusation he\\ngives the neck of Spintho's tunic a twist); he goes smashing\\nthings mad\",\n \".\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad I haven't to fight. That would really be an\\nawful martyrdom. I AM lucky.\\n\\nLAVINIA (looking at him with a pang of remorse). Androcles: burn\\nthe incense: you'll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I\\nfeel as if I were killing you.\\n\\nANDROCLES. Don't think of\",\n \"rovius controls\\nhimself convulsively; moves away from temptation to the east side\\nnear Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent prayer; and throws\\nhimself on his knees). That's the way to manage them, eh! This\\nfine fellow (indicating Androcles, who comes to his left, and\\nmakes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation) is a sorcerer. A Greek\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at\",\n \"who has power to have all\\nour heads cut off if we don't behave very, VERY respectfully to\\nhim.\\n\\nThe lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the\\nsteps, across the landing, and down again on the other side, with\\nthe lion in hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion;\\novertakes him as he is descending; and throws himself on his\\nback, trying to use his toes as a brake. Before he can stop him\\nthe lion gets hold of the trailing end of the Emperor's ro\",\n \"; rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his\\nnose forward and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a\\npointer, and utters an appalling roar. Androcles crouches and\\nhides his face in his hands. The lion gathers himself for a\\nspring, swishing his tail to and fro through the dust in an\\necstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands in\\nsupplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of\\nAndrocles's face. He then steals towards him; smells him;\",\n \"scraping it along the\\nground, and hurts himself worse. He roars piteously. He licks it\\nagain. Tears drop from his eyes. He limps painfully off the path\\nand lies down under the trees, exhausted with pain. Heaving a\\nlong sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to sleep.\\n\\nAndrocles and his wife Megaera come along the path. He is a\\nsmall, thin, ridiculous little man who might be any age from\\nthirty to fifty-five. He has sandy hair, watery compassionate\\nblue\",\n \"\\ntailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The\\ntenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a\\npet of the leopard; and now he's crying at being parted from it.\\n(Androcles sniffs lamentably). Ain't you, old chap? Well, cheer\\nup, we march with a Billy goat (Androcles brightens up) that's\\nkilled two leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a\\n\",\n \"(She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping\\nlion). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (She totters back and collapses into\\nthe arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his\\nbundle).\\n\\nANDROCLES (extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her\\nhands in great anxiety) What is it, my precious, my pet? What's\\nthe matter? (He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she\\npoints in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals\\ncautiously\",\n \". They surge\\nback). You see how magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We\\nsuffer you to go in peace.\\n\\nANDROCLES. I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and\\ngentlemen. Come, Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for\\nyou: no slavery for me. (He goes out with the lion, everybody\\ncrowding away to give him as wide a berth as possible).\\n\\n\\n\\nIn this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of\\nthe early Christians, not as the conflict of\",\n \"the new lion: let that be enough for you. He's\\nhungry.\\n\\nSPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can't you stop talking\\nabout it? Isn't it bad enough for us without that?\\n\\nANDROCLES. I'm glad he's hungry. Not that I want him to suffer,\\npoor chap! but then he'll enjoy eating me so much more. There's a\\ncheerful side to everything.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don'\",\n \"slaves.\\nBut we must have somebody. This is really extremely awkward.\\n\\nTHE MENAGERIE KEEPER. Why not that little Greek chap? He's not a\\nChristian: he's a sorcerer.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The very thing: he will do very well.\\n\\nTHE CALL Boy (issuing from the passage) Number twelve. The\\nChristian for the new lion.\\n\\nANDROCLES (rising, and pulling himself sadly together) Well, it\\nwas to be, after all.\\n\\nLAVINIA.\",\n \". I told you they were\\nbrutes.\\n\\nLENTULUS. Plucky little filly! I suppose she thinks I care. (With\\nan air of indifference he strolls with Metellus to the east side\\nof the square, where they stand watching the return of the\\nCenturion through the western arch with his men, escorting three\\nprisoners: Ferrovius, Androcles, and Spintho. Ferrovius is a\\npowerful, choleric man in the prime of life, with large nostrils,\\nstaring eyes, and a thick\"\n ],\n [\n \"history. Once, in Domitian's time, a\\nGaul slew three men in the arena and gained his freedom. But when\\nbefore has one naked man slain six armed men of the bravest and\\nbest? The persecution shall cease: if Christians can fight like\\nthis, I shall have none but Christians to fight for me. (To the\\nGladiators) You are ordered to become Christians, you there: do\\nyou hear?\\n\\nRETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my\\nnet, the\",\n \"THE EDITOR (scrambling to his feet) Sh! Attention there! The\\nEmperor. (The Keeper bolts precipitately into the passage. The\\ngladiators rise smartly and form into line).\\n\\nThe Emperor enters on the Christians' side, conversing with\\nMetellus, and followed by his suite.\\n\\nTHE GLADIATORS. Hail, Caesar! those about to die salute thee.\\n\\nCAESAR. Good morrow, friends.\\n\\nMetellus shakes hands with the Editor, who accepts his\\ncond\",\n \"ed to-day in the\\narena. You shall have arms; and there will be no more than one\\ngladiator to each Christian. If you come out of the arena alive,\\nI will consider favorably any request of yours, and give you a\\nplace in the Pretorian Guard. Even if the request be that no\\nquestions be asked about your faith I shall perhaps not refuse\\nit.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I will not fight. I will die. Better stand with the\\narchangels than with the Pretorian Guard.\\n\\nCAESAR. I\",\n \"of the gladiators and take his receipt, countersigned by\\nthe keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You understand\\nyour instructions?\\n\\nCENTURION. Yes, Sir.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. Dismiss. (He throws off his air of parade, and\\ndescends down from the perch. The Centurion seats on it and\\nprepares for a nap, whilst his men stand at ease. The Christians\\nsit down on the west side of the square, glad to rest. Lavinia\\nalone remains standing to speak to the\",\n \"TAIN. What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing\\nthat you should die for such nonsense, and that I should look on\\nhelplessly when my whole soul cries out against it! Die then if\\nyou must; but at least I can cut the Emperor's throat and then my\\nown when I see your blood.\\n\\nThe Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears\\nin wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\\ngladiators spring to their feet.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will\",\n \"his figure stiff with intense resolution. At the foot of\\nthe steps crouches Spintho, with his head clutched in his hands,\\nfull of horror at the approach of martyrdom.\\n\\nOn the east side of the passage the gladiators are standing and\\nsitting at ease, waiting, like the Christians, for their turn in\\nthe arena. One (Retiarius) is a nearly naked man with a net and a\\ntrident. Another (Secutor) is in armor with a sword. He carries a\\nhelmet with a barred visor. The editor of\",\n \"\\nTHE CALL BOY. In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The Emperor is waiting. (To the Editor) What are you\\ndreaming of, man? Send your men in at once.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Yes, Sir: it's these Christians hanging back.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (in a voice of thunder) Liar!\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (not heeding him) March. (The gladiators told off to\\nfight with the Christians march down the passage) Follow up\\nthere, you\",\n \"arewell. Be\\nstrong, brother. Farewell. Don't forget that the divine love and\\nour love surround you. Farewell. Nothing can hurt you: remember\\nthat, brother. Farewell. Eternal glory, dearest. Farewell.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR (out of patience) Shove them in, there.\\n\\nThe remaining gladiators and the Call Boy make a movement towards\\nthem.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (interposing) Touch them, dogs; and we die here, and\\ncheat the heathen of their spectacle. (To\",\n \", who stands as on parade to let\\nhim pass). The Call Boy comes from the passage, followed by\\nthree attendants carrying respectively a bundle of swords, some\\nhelmets, and some breastplates and pieces of armor which they\\nthrow down in a heap.\\n\\nTHE CALL BOY. By your leave, Caesar. Number eleven! Gladiators\\nand Christians!\\n\\nFerrovius springs up, ready for martyrdom. The other Christians\\ntake the summons as best they can, some joyful and brave, some\\npatient and dignified, some tearful\",\n \") This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage, waltzing. He bolts wildly up the steps into his\\nbox, and slams the door. All, Christians and gladiators' alike,\\nfly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into the arena, the\\nothers in all directions. The place is emptied with magical\\nsuddenness).\\n\\nANDROCLES (naively) Now I wonder why they all run away from us\\nlike that. (The lion\",\n \"EMPEROR (again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy\\nof delight) Where is he? Magnificent! He shall have a laurel\\ncrown.\\n\\nFerrovius, madly waving his bloodstained sword, rushes through\\nthe passage in despair, followed by his co-religionists, and by\\nthe menagerie keeper, who goes to the gladiators. The gladiators\\ndraw their swords nervously.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut\",\n \"the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the\\ngladiators spring to their feet.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. The Christians will not fight; and your curs cannot\\nget their blood up to attack them. It's all that fellow with the\\nblazing eyes. Send for the whip. (The Call Boy rushes out on the\\neast side for the whip). If that will not move them, bring the\\nhot irons. The man is like a mountain. (He returns angrily into\\nthe box and slams the door).\\n\\nThe Call Boy\",\n \"my duty to call your\\nattention to them in order that you may have no ground for\\ncomplaining of your treatment, or of accusing the Emperor of\\ncruelty when he is showing you the most signal clemency.\\nLooked at from this point of view, every Christian who has\\nperished in the arena has really committed suicide.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Captain: your jokes are too grim. Do not think it is\\neasy for us to die. Our faith makes life far stronger and more\\nwonderful in us than when we walked in darkness and had nothing\\n\",\n \"The gladiators\\ndraw their swords nervously.\\n\\nFERROVIUS. Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut off\\nthis right hand: it has offended. Ye have swords, my brethren:\\nstrike.\\n\\nLAVINIA. No, no. What have you done, Ferrovius?\\n\\nFERROVIUS. I know not; but there was blood behind my eyes; and\\nthere's blood on my sword. What does that mean?\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR (enthusiastically, on the landing outside\",\n \"\\nmanagers. I may inform you that as there is a shortage of\\nChristians just now, you may expect to be called on very soon.\\n\\nLAVINIA. What will they do to us, Captain?\\n\\nCENTURION. Silence!\\n\\nTHE CAPTAIN. The women will be conducted into the arena with the\\nwild beasts of the Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the\\nconsequences. The men, if of an age to bear arms, will be given\\nweapons to defend themselves, if they choose, against the\\nImper\",\n \". Nobody let him. He let himself.\\n\\nTHE KEEPER. Well, the lion's ate him.\\n\\nConsternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The\\ngladiators sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry\\nout or laugh at once. Tumult.\\n\\nLAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished.\\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CH\",\n \"\\nPraise be to God's justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was\\nstarving. It couldn't help itself. THE CHRISTIANS. What! Ate him!\\nHow frightful! How terrible! Without a moment to repent! God be\\nmerciful to him, a sinner! Oh, I can't bear to think of it! In\\nthe midst of his sin! Horrible, horrible! THE EDITOR. Serve the\\nrotter right! THE GLADIATORS. Just walked into it, he did. He's\\n\",\n \"orn the Pretorian Guard. (He goes into the box. The Captain\\nshuts the door, remaining inside with the Emperor. Metellus and\\nthe rest of the suite disperse to their seats. The Christians,\\nled by Ferrovius, move towards the passage).\\n\\nLAVINIA (to Ferrovius) Farewell.\\n\\nTHE EDITOR. Steady there. You Christians have got to fight. Here!\\narm yourselves.\\n\\nFERROVIUS (picking up a sword) I'll die sword in hand to show\\npeople that I could\",\n \"'s not a man's job. (He throws\\nhimself moodily into his chair).\\n\\nThe remaining gladiators go back to their former places\\nindifferently. The Call Boy shrugs his shoulders and squats down\\nat the entrance to the passage, near the Editor.\\n\\nLavinia and the Christian women sit down again, wrung with grief,\\nsome weeping silently, some praying, some calm and steadfast.\\nAndrocles sits down at Lavinia's feet. The Captain stands on the\\nstairs, watching her curiously.\\n\\nANDRO\",\n \"arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out\\nthrough the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless\\nastonishment until they disappear, when he rushes from his box\\nand descends the steps in frantic excitement.\\n\\nTHE EMPEROR. My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has\\nhappened. I can no longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (The\\nChristians press to him joyfully) This Christian sorcerer--(with\\na yell, he breaks off as he sees Androcles and the lion emerge\\nfrom the passage,\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["What does Androcles find in the forest when he and his wife are in hiding?","What happens when Androcles is captured?","Who is Ferrovius?","What happens when the Christians are released into the arena? ","Why does Androcles offer himself up to be sacrificed?","Who is the lion that is supposed to kill Androcles?","What happens when the Emporer comes into the arena to find out what is going on?","Why does the Emporer call an end to the torture and death of Christians?","What happens to Androcles and the lion after sparing the Emporer?","What is Androcles' profession?","What creature approaches Androcles?","How does Androcles keep the lion soothed?","Where is the lion wounded?","What does Ferrovius struggle with?","How are the Christians saved?","Why does Androcles offer himself up to be savaged by lions?","Who is attacked in the arena by the lion?","Why doesn't the lion attack Androcles?","Who accompanies Androcles at the end of the story?","Who is Androcles on the run from?","Who is Androcles set to be executed with?","Who is the Roman captain, guarding the prisoners attracted to?","What is the job offered to Ferrovius?","Who does the lion in the arena attack?","What does Androcles declare?","What is Androcles' pet?","Where is Androcles sent when he is captured?","Who dances in the arena with Androcles?","Who kills all the gladiators before they can harm the Christians?"],"string":"[\n \"What does Androcles find in the forest when he and his wife are in hiding?\",\n \"What happens when Androcles is captured?\",\n \"Who is Ferrovius?\",\n \"What happens when the Christians are released into the arena? \",\n \"Why does Androcles offer himself up to be sacrificed?\",\n \"Who is the lion that is supposed to kill Androcles?\",\n \"What happens when the Emporer comes into the arena to find out what is going on?\",\n \"Why does the Emporer call an end to the torture and death of Christians?\",\n \"What happens to Androcles and the lion after sparing the Emporer?\",\n \"What is Androcles' profession?\",\n \"What creature approaches Androcles?\",\n \"How does Androcles keep the lion soothed?\",\n \"Where is the lion wounded?\",\n \"What does Ferrovius struggle with?\",\n \"How are the Christians saved?\",\n \"Why does Androcles offer himself up to be savaged by lions?\",\n \"Who is attacked in the arena by the lion?\",\n \"Why doesn't the lion attack Androcles?\",\n \"Who accompanies Androcles at the end of the story?\",\n \"Who is Androcles on the run from?\",\n \"Who is Androcles set to be executed with?\",\n \"Who is the Roman captain, guarding the prisoners attracted to?\",\n \"What is the job offered to Ferrovius?\",\n \"Who does the lion in the arena attack?\",\n \"What does Androcles declare?\",\n \"What is Androcles' pet?\",\n \"Where is Androcles sent when he is captured?\",\n \"Who dances in the arena with Androcles?\",\n \"Who kills all the gladiators before they can harm the Christians?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["a wild lion who has a huge thorn in his paw, that Androcles takes out","a lion with a wounded paw"],["he is sent to the Colosseum to be killed along with the other Christians in the gladiator games","He is forced into gladiatoral combat"],["a new Christian who is having issues with the Christian practices he is trying to learn and his violent tendencies. ","A new Christian convert. "],["Ferrovius killed all the gladiators before they could touch a single Christian","Ferrovius kills all the gladiators."],["The crowd still wants blood since the Christians were spared","The crowd demanded blood"],["the lion that had the thorn in his paw","The same lion who had a wounded paw that Androcles fixed."],["the lion attacked him","The lion attacks him"],["Androcles gets the lion to back off and spare the Emporer's life","Androcles decided to save him"],["They leave the arena together","Christians are no longer persecuted."],["A tailor","He was a tailor"],["A wild lion","A lion"],["By talking to him in baby language","using baby language"],["On his paw","His paw"],["He struggles with his violent inclinations conflicting with his Christian principles","Persecution."],["Ferrovius kills all the gladiators","Androcles throws himself to the lions."],["The crowd is demanding blood.","To save the other Christians"],["The emporer","The Roman Emperor."],["It's the same lion that Androcles removed a thorn from his paw","He helped the lion prior to being placed in the arena with it"],["The lion","The lion"],["Roman persecutors.","The Romans"],["Other Christians.","A lion."],["Lavinia","Lavinia."],["Praetorian Guard","a job in the Praetorian Guard"],["The Emperor","The Roman Emperor."],["And end to the persecution of Christians.","end to the persecution of Christians"],["Lion","the Lion that he helped remove the thorn from"],["The Colosseum","the Colosseum"],["Lion","The lion"],["Ferrovius","Ferrovius."]],"string":"[\n [\n \"a wild lion who has a huge thorn in his paw, that Androcles takes out\",\n \"a lion with a wounded paw\"\n ],\n [\n \"he is sent to the Colosseum to be killed along with the other Christians in the gladiator games\",\n \"He is forced into gladiatoral combat\"\n ],\n [\n \"a new Christian who is having issues with the Christian practices he is trying to learn and his violent tendencies. \",\n \"A new Christian convert. \"\n ],\n [\n \"Ferrovius killed all the gladiators before they could touch a single Christian\",\n \"Ferrovius kills all the gladiators.\"\n ],\n [\n \"The crowd still wants blood since the Christians were spared\",\n \"The crowd demanded blood\"\n ],\n [\n \"the lion that had the thorn in his paw\",\n \"The same lion who had a wounded paw that Androcles fixed.\"\n ],\n [\n \"the lion attacked him\",\n \"The lion attacks him\"\n ],\n [\n \"Androcles gets the lion to back off and spare the Emporer's life\",\n \"Androcles decided to save him\"\n ],\n [\n \"They leave the arena together\",\n \"Christians are no longer persecuted.\"\n ],\n [\n \"A tailor\",\n \"He was a tailor\"\n ],\n [\n \"A wild lion\",\n \"A lion\"\n ],\n [\n \"By talking to him in baby language\",\n \"using baby language\"\n ],\n [\n \"On his paw\",\n \"His paw\"\n ],\n [\n \"He struggles with his violent inclinations conflicting with his Christian principles\",\n \"Persecution.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Ferrovius kills all the gladiators\",\n \"Androcles throws himself to the lions.\"\n ],\n [\n \"The crowd is demanding blood.\",\n \"To save the other Christians\"\n ],\n [\n \"The emporer\",\n \"The Roman Emperor.\"\n ],\n [\n \"It's the same lion that Androcles removed a thorn from his paw\",\n \"He helped the lion prior to being placed in the arena with it\"\n ],\n [\n \"The lion\",\n \"The lion\"\n ],\n [\n \"Roman persecutors.\",\n \"The Romans\"\n ],\n [\n \"Other Christians.\",\n \"A lion.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Lavinia\",\n \"Lavinia.\"\n ],\n [\n \"Praetorian Guard\",\n \"a job in the Praetorian Guard\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Emperor\",\n \"The Roman Emperor.\"\n ],\n [\n \"And end to the persecution of Christians.\",\n \"end to the persecution of Christians\"\n ],\n [\n \"Lion\",\n \"the Lion that he helped remove the thorn from\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Colosseum\",\n \"the Colosseum\"\n ],\n [\n \"Lion\",\n \"The lion\"\n ],\n [\n \"Ferrovius\",\n \"Ferrovius.\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"eec864a5517c25d30b351c93c57054bb89811368"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":35,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["\n\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\n is captivatingly beautiful, and her gaze is piercing.\n\n HARRY\n (indicating the bas-\n relief)\n Magnificent, isn't it?\n\n WOMAN\n Yes. Hi, I'm Juno Skinner. I\n thought I knew most of Khaled's\n friends but I don't believe I\n know you.",". The van doors open and the hostages are\n brought out. Harry sees a long black LIMO pulling up behind\n the van. The driver, an enormous man names AKBAR, hurries to\n open the passenger door. A slender pair of ankles emerge,\n followed by the rest of Juno Skinner, looking devastatingly\n beautiful but now quite sinister.\n\n To Helen it is like a living James Bond film, with the jet, the\n limo, the terrorists, and now an exotic femme fatale,","HARRY\n I'm sorry, honey.\n\n HELEN\n Don't call me honey! You don't\n ever get to call me honey again.\n You understand?! You pig!\n\n Juno looks at them both and laughs. She offers Helen a tissue.\n\n JUNO\n Here you go, dear.\n\n NEARBY, Akbar is going through the contents of Helen's handbag\n and Harry's wallet. He rips open the bottom","INT. MAIN HALL - NIGHT\n\n Harry whirls Juno aggressively across the dancefloor. She\n responds deftly. They are well matched. She parries each of\n his smooth moves with a flourish. It is a contest of wills,\n and a surprised appraisal for each that the other is worthy.\n Juno is hot. He bends her back at the waist, then snaps her\n up. She twirls into the crook of his arm. Their faces are\n inches apart","Helen it is like a living James Bond film, with the jet, the\n limo, the terrorists, and now an exotic femme fatale, dressed\n to kill, approaching them.\n\n JUNO\n (with a wry smile)\n Hello, Harry.\n\n HARRY\n Juno. I wish I could say it's a\n pleasure to see you again.\n\n HELEN\n You know her?\n\n Juno signals with her eyes and the terrorists march the\n","\n HARRY\n Hello?\n\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARRY as he\n steps into the inner chamber. There is an oil-lamp burning on\n a stone sarcophagus, the only light. The room appears empty.\n\n REVERSE ON HARRY. Behind him a figure emerges from a shadowed\n alcove. It is Juno. She looks ethereal in the strange light.\n\n JUNO\n "," CRASH!! The door lock is shattered by tremendous force and\n THREE MEN burst into the room. We may recognize them as\n workers from Juno's shop. They are wielding pistols and are\n clearly part of Malik's terrorist brigade.\n\n Harry is still groggy, and he doesn't want to start anything\n with Helen there, and risk her getting shot. He acquiesces as\n they pull him to his feet.\n\n HELEN\n He's got nothing to do","bitch.\n\n JUNO\n Sure. Say that now.\n\n Juno puts her arms around him and kisses him passionately. She\n breaks, looking at Helen to savor the effect. Helen is\n trembling with rage.\n\n JUNO\n Thanks for everything, Harry. It\n was good while it lasted.\n\n Juno crosses to the guard and takes a hand-grenade off his\n belt. Then she goes to Helen and places it between her knees.\n She p","the WORKMAN we saw watching Harry earlier. He\n catches up with Juno, who is going through the doors to the\n office area. His name is MALIK.\n\n MALIK\n Ms. Skinner? Can I speak to you\n for a moment please, in your\n office?\n\n His manner is self-effacing. Humble. He doesn't meet her\n gaze. She nods and they go into the private office.\n\n\n 59 INT. J","the ship. A rusting\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\n an AEROSPATIALE HELICOPTER thunders toward them over the black\n Caribbean water.\n\n The helicopter lands and Juno steps down from the front door.\n The sliding door is opened and Akbar and the others pull a\n groggy Harry and Helen out of the aircraft. They are covered\n by hoods.\n\n Malik walks up to them and pulls their hoods off. Harry takes"," *\n\n HARRY\n You're damaged goods, lady.\n\n Harry's words are beginning to be slightly slurred. The drugs\n are taking effect.\n\n JUNO\n (indicating Helen)\n Did you tell her about us, Harry?\n\n HARRY\n There is no us, you psychotic\n bitch.\n\n JUNO\n Sure. Say that now.\n\n Juno puts her arms around him and kisses","ers a second or so long on the handshake.\n\n HARRY\n Well, what's the point of\n waiting?\n\n JUNO\n I agree.\n\n There is definitely unholy magnetism here. She indicates for\n Harry to walk with her and leads him through the suite of\n offices. There are mounted fragments of ancient sculpture in\n niches on either side, and beautifully restored mosaics and\n tablets of hieroglyphics mounted on the walls.\n\n JUN",". Juno follows then into the bleak room.\n Guards shackle them to steel chairs with handcuffs.\n\n A MAN enters the room carrying a small suitcase. He has skull-\n like features. He opens the suitcase and Harry has a good view\n of the contents: medical instruments, needle-probes, drills,\n Dremel tools with saw blades.\n\n JUNO\n This is Samir. See if you can\n guess his specialty.\n\n HAR","the\n surface above him. Harry kicks hard, trying to swim beyond the\n inferno above him so he can surface.\n\n\n 266 EXT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n CLOSE ON HELEN, watching the burning wreckage of the gas truck.\n\n HELEN\n Oh my God. Harry.\n\n A PISTOL ENTERS FRAME. Its muzzle taps the back of her head.\n She gasps and turns to see-- JUNO, holding the","67 EXT. UNDERWATER - NIGHT\n\n Harry is still swimming. He reaches the edge of the fire and\n surfaces, gasping for breath. Treading water he scans the\n dock.\n\n\n 268 EXT. WATER OF THE DOCK - HARRY'S POV - NIGHT\n\n Amid the fire and smoke, he sees Juno walking Helen at gun\n point toward a LIMO.\n\n\n 269 EXT. WAREHOUSE - N","with Ms. Skinner--\n\n Harry is extending his business card to the receptionist as\n Juno breezes into the lobby from a corridor. She is dressed\n sharply and looks as stunning as Harry remembers.\n\n JUNO\n Harry! I thought I might see you\n again. I just didn't except you\n to call so soon.\n\n Juno lingers a second or so long on the handshake.\n\n HARRY\n Well, what's the point of\n "," JUNO\n This is Samir. See if you can\n guess his specialty.\n\n HARRY\n Oral hygiene?\n\n JUNO\n Not exactly.\n\n HELEN\n (scared)\n What's going on, Harry?\n\n JUNO\n Samir is just going to ask Harry\n a few questions. See, we're not\n even sure which agency Harry\n works for. ","?\n\n Juno turns to him in the flickering half-light. She moves\n closer. Her eyes seem to glitter.\n\n JUNO\n I've always been a collector at\n heart. When I see something I\n want, I have to have it.\n\n HARRY\n And you have a reputation as\n someone who gets what she wants.\n\n She is very close to him. Her eyes seem to glitter in the\n light from the oil lamp. ","'ve set 'em up on\n all of Juno's shipping agents,\n her clients, and Faisil made up *\n a list of possible contacts that\n Crimson Jihad might have in this\n country. Now all we can do is *\n wait -- *\n\n He notices Harry is not listening.\n\n GIB\n Is this national security stuff\n boring you?\n\n HARRY\n Put a tap on her phone","He doesn't meet her\n gaze. She nods and they go into the private office.\n\n\n 59 INT. JUNO'S OFFICE - DAY\n\n MALIK comes in behind her and closes the door. The moment they\n are away from public observation, his manner changes. His\n humble posture straightens and his eyes flash intensely as he\n approaches her. Without warning he SLAPS HER HARD ACROSS THE\n FACE.\n\n MALIK\n "],["HELEN AND SIMON as she leans even closer.\n\n HELEN\n What is it you want me to do?\n\n SIMON\n Not here. I'll call you and\n we'll rendezvous again.\n (he looks around)\n We have to leave separately, so\n we aren't seen together. For\n your safety.\n\n HELEN\n You'll call me then?\n\n SIMON\n "," HELEN\n I understand.\n\n SIMON\n It's my job to risk my life, but\n not yours. I feel bad about\n bringing you into this, but\n you're the only one I can trust.\n\n Simon creates an atmosphere of danger. His haggardness give\n him an air of mystery and desperation.\n\n HELEN\n Where were you? On a... uh, *\n mission?\n\n SIM","\n her way to a booth in the back. Sitting in the shadows, facing\n the door, is SIMON. She sits down opposite him. He doesn't\n smile or kiss her in greeting, but glances around the room like\n he expects a threat to leap out at any moment.\n\n SIMON\n Are you sure you weren't\n followed?\n\n HELEN\n I kept looking back, like you\n taught me. I didn't see anyone.\n\n "," HELEN\n I kept looking back, like you\n taught me. I didn't see anyone.\n\n SIMON\n Okay. It's just, things are a\n bit hot for me right now. If I\n get a signal...\n (holds up a cigarette\n lighter meaningfully)\n I may have to leave suddenly.\n\n HELEN\n I understand.\n\n SIMON\n It's my job to risk my life, but",". CAFE - DAY\n\n HELEN LEANS CLOSE TO SIMON. She clearly is hanging on his\n every word.\n\n HELEN\n Tell me what happened?\n\n SIMON\n I'm sorry, I can't.\n\n HELEN\n You can trust me completely.\n\n SIMON\n I know. But it would compromise\n your safety too much to know\n certain things.\n\n HELEN\n ","It's your mystery man.\n\n HELEN\n Simon? Ohmygod.\n\n Helen, normally the image of composure, goes suddenly fluttery\n and nervous as a high-school girl. She takes the phone,\n turning away from Allison.\n\n HELEN\n Hello, Simon?\n (pause)\n It's all right. There's no one\n around.\n\n Helen glimpses Allison with her ears cocked and gives her a\n sc","Y as he moves through the offices. He passes\n through a library-like maze of records stacks. Through them he\n can see Helen at her desk. But as he approaches, still\n concealed, ALLISON puts a call on hold and whips around to\n Helen.\n\n ALLISON\n Helen!\n (grinning\n conspiratorially)\n It's your mystery man.\n\n HELEN\n Simon? Ohmygod.\n\n Helen, normally the image","into the phone in hushed, urgent\n tones.\n\n SIMON\n Helen. I need your help. Can\n you meet me tonight?\n\n INTERCUT WITH HELEN at her office.\n\n\n 170 INT. HELEN'S OFFICE - DAY/FLASHBACK/INTERCUT\n\n HELEN\n What's happened?\n\n SIMON\n It's serious. That's all I can *\n say","I know. But it would compromise\n your safety too much to know\n certain things.\n\n HELEN\n Right, of course. I was worried\n when I didn't hear from you that\n night.\n\n SIMON\n It's strange. I knew I was in a\n woman's thoughts when I was\n shooting it out with those\n assassins.\n\n\n 144 INT. SEDAN - DAY\n\n HARRY"," SIMON\n (quickly)\n Just for the operation in Paris.\n I need to be married. They'll be\n looking for a man traveling\n alone.\n\n HELEN\n We're going to Paris?\n\n SIMON\n Helen, there's a double agent in\n my outfit... I don't know who.\n There's no one I can trust.\n Except you. Can you get away?\n Just for two"," your safety.\n\n HELEN\n You'll call me then?\n\n SIMON\n Yes. Now go.\n\n 148\n thru OMITTED *\n 155\n\n PAGES 66-67 OMITTED *\n\n 156 EXT. STREET/CAR LOT - DAY\n\n Simon is cruising in the Corvette with the radio blasting.\n Thinking he is","Helen's red Accord. The door slides\n open and Helen gets out, helped my black-garbed hands. She is\n wearing her hood, which is whisked off by one of the hands.\n She whirls in time to see the door slide shut and the van speed\n off. She watches it drive off into the night.\n\n\n 213 EXT. ROCK QUARRY - NIGHT\n\n The van pulls up near the edge of a large quarry. The door\n opens and Simon is pushed out,","freezes, staring at the page and WE HEAR THE\n SOUND OF THE CONVERSATION OVERLAID:\n\n HELEN\n Hello?\n\n SIMON\n Helen? It's Simon. Is it safe\n to talk?\n\n HELEN\n Yes. Go ahead.\n\n\n 121 INT. CAR - FLASHBACK SEQUENCE - DAY\n\n A man in his mid-thirties, sitting in a car SOMEPLACE ("," HELEN\n Where were you? On a... uh, *\n mission?\n\n SIMON\n Ssshhh! We say Op. Covert *\n operation. And this one got a\n little rough.\n\n HELEN\n Worse than Cairo? *\n\n SIMON\n Cairo was a day at the beach next *\n to this.\n\n\n 138 INT. S","\n\n SIMON\n Did you read the papers\n yesterday?\n\n HELEN\n Yes.\n\n SIMON\n Sometimes a story is a mask for\n a covert operation. See-- two\n men killed in a restroom, and two\n unidentified men in a running *\n shootout, ending at the *\n Marriot...\n\n\n 140 INT. SEDAN - DAY\n\n HARR","was an American agent.\n\n\n 201 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - NIGHT\n\n INSIDE THE CONTROL room we can see Harry, Gib and, through the\n glass, Helen. Their voices sound normal on this side.\n\n HARRY\n How long have you been a member\n of his faction?\n\n HELEN\n I don't know anything about a\n faction. I just met Simon... or\n whatever his name is... ","\n \"SIMON?!\"\n\n\n 116 INT. HELEN'S OFFICE - DAY\n\n HELEN\n You mean right now?\n (she looks around\n guiltily)\n I guess so. Okay. I'll be right\n there.\n (pause)\n Yes. I can't wait. Bye.\n\n She hangs up, a little flushed. Then turns to Allison.\n\n HELEN\n "," She goes inside.\n\n\n 136 INT. SEDAN - DAY\n\n HARRY\n Give me audio.\n\n Gib hits a switch and they hear the clamor of the cafe at lunch\n rush come over a speaker.\n\n\n 137 INT. CAFE - DAY\n\n The restaurant is nothing fancy. A little dark. Helen makes\n her way to a booth in the back. Sitting in the shadows, facing\n the door, is SIMON. She sits"," 187\n\n\n EXT. TRAILER PARK - NIGHT 188\n\n The headlights of the Vette light up a ratty single-wide\n mobile home, on the outskirts of a TRAILER PARK off the\n highway. Simon and Helen get out of the car.\n\n SIMON\n My place in the city is too\n hot right now. So is the\n penthouse in New York. But\n this place is secure.\n\n He takes","to kill you? *\n\n SIMON\n Three of them. Hardly worth *\n talking about. Two won't bother *\n me again.\n\n HELEN\n And you chased one?\n\n SIMON\n Something came over me, I just\n had nail him, no matter what the *\n risk. It was pretty hairy. I\n thought he had me, a couple of *\n times"],["Y as he moves through the offices. He passes\n through a library-like maze of records stacks. Through them he\n can see Helen at her desk. But as he approaches, still\n concealed, ALLISON puts a call on hold and whips around to\n Helen.\n\n ALLISON\n Helen!\n (grinning\n conspiratorially)\n It's your mystery man.\n\n HELEN\n Simon? Ohmygod.\n\n Helen, normally the image","\n There's nothing interesting.\n\n SIMON\n Nothing from Simon?\n\n Keeping one eye on the road, Harry riffles through the sheets.\n He glances at the top of the last couple of sheets. He scowls.\n Then SUDDENLY SLAMS ON THE BRAKES. The car dives to the curb,\n bumping one wheel. Harry gets out and charges around to Gib's\n side. Gib gets out, his expression blank.\n\n HARR"," HELEN\n I understand.\n\n SIMON\n It's my job to risk my life, but\n not yours. I feel bad about\n bringing you into this, but\n you're the only one I can trust.\n\n Simon creates an atmosphere of danger. His haggardness give\n him an air of mystery and desperation.\n\n HELEN\n Where were you? On a... uh, *\n mission?\n\n SIM","It's your mystery man.\n\n HELEN\n Simon? Ohmygod.\n\n Helen, normally the image of composure, goes suddenly fluttery\n and nervous as a high-school girl. She takes the phone,\n turning away from Allison.\n\n HELEN\n Hello, Simon?\n (pause)\n It's all right. There's no one\n around.\n\n Helen glimpses Allison with her ears cocked and gives her a\n sc","\n\n SIMON\n Did you read the papers\n yesterday?\n\n HELEN\n Yes.\n\n SIMON\n Sometimes a story is a mask for\n a covert operation. See-- two\n men killed in a restroom, and two\n unidentified men in a running *\n shootout, ending at the *\n Marriot...\n\n\n 140 INT. SEDAN - DAY\n\n HARR"," SIMON\n I always have a couple on the\n hook. You know. There's one\n right now, I've got her panting\n like a dog. It's great.\n\n Unconsciously, Harry's hands clench the wheel tighter.\n\n HARRY\n What does she do?\n\n SIMON\n Some kinda legal secretary of\n something. Married to some\n boring jerk.\n\n Harry takes a corner","Simon, look out there. You see\n that man? Notice how he's\n looking at the cars. He's called\n a customer. I know it's been a\n while, but do you remember what\n you're supposed to do when we\n have a customer?\n\n\n 160 EXT. CAR LOT - DAY\n\n Simon bounces jauntily up to Harry, talking before he's even\n reached him.\n\n SIMON\n ","same guy for years. Stuck\n in a rut. They need some\n release. The promise of\n adventure. A hint of danger. I\n create that for them.\n\n HARRY\n So you're basically lying your\n ass off the whole time? I\n couldn't do it.\n\n SIMON\n Well, think of it as playing a\n role. It's fantasy. You have to\n work on their dreams","\n her way to a booth in the back. Sitting in the shadows, facing\n the door, is SIMON. She sits down opposite him. He doesn't\n smile or kiss her in greeting, but glances around the room like\n he expects a threat to leap out at any moment.\n\n SIMON\n Are you sure you weren't\n followed?\n\n HELEN\n I kept looking back, like you\n taught me. I didn't see anyone.\n\n "," I'll tell you all about it when\n I get back tomorrow... if I live.\n (pause)\n Scared? Never! Except of you--\n\n During this, the owner of the place, DOUG WURTZ, has come out\n of the back room and looked out at the lot. What Doug sees is--\n\n HARRY, browsing among the cars.\n\n DOUG turns from the window and bears down on Simon, who sees\n him coming and speeds up his rap.\n\n ","ON\n Some kinda legal secretary of\n something. Married to some\n boring jerk.\n\n Harry takes a corner too fast. The tires squealing.\n\n SIMON\n And she could be so hot, if she\n wanted to be. She's like a dying\n plant that just needs a little\n water.\n\n When Simon is looking, Harry is open and encouraging... they\n laugh together... then when he looks away Harry goes snake-\n eyed. He could kill Simon","\n\n SIMON\n Relax. There, that's better.\n Let yourself slip into the role.\n\n He puts his other arm around her shoulders and pulls her slowly\n into a kiss. This doesn't seem real to Helen. She finds\n herself not pulling away. He lowers her slowly until they are\n lying together on the bed.\n\n SIMON\n There you go. That's right...\n\n He slides his hand up her thigh. The fingers, stroking in\n",". See,\n you're very good. You're a\n natural at this.\n\n\n 142 INT. SEDAN - DAY\n\n Harry starts to get it. Then is dawns on Gib.\n\n GIB\n The guy's a fake! He's taking\n credit for our moves.\n\n\n 143 INT. CAFE - DAY\n\n HELEN LEANS CLOSE TO SIMON. She clearly is hanging on his\n "," Well, think of it as playing a\n role. It's fantasy. You have to\n work on their dreams. Get them\n out of their daily suburban grind\n for a few hours.\n\n HARRY\n Isn't that hard to keep up, in\n the long run?\n\n SIMON\n Doesn't matter. I like change.\n You know, constant turnover. As\n soon as I close the deal, it'",". Aahhh! Don't kill me.\n I'm not a spy. I'm nothing. I'm\n navel lint. I have to lie to\n women to get laid. And I don't\n score much. It's pathetic.\n (he looks down)\n See, look... would a spy pee\n himself?\n\n Harry is finally sickened by his grovelling. He pulls Simon\n away from the edge, then gestures with",".\n\n SIMON\n What're we talking about here?\n Pussy, right?\n\n HARRY\n Absolutely.\n\n Simon laughs. Harry laughs. A big lusty, male-bonding kind of\n laugh.\n\n SIMON\n Well then this is a vital piece\n of equipment. Used properly, it\n can change your life. See, you\n cruise. No racing. This ain't\n a","freezes, staring at the page and WE HEAR THE\n SOUND OF THE CONVERSATION OVERLAID:\n\n HELEN\n Hello?\n\n SIMON\n Helen? It's Simon. Is it safe\n to talk?\n\n HELEN\n Yes. Go ahead.\n\n\n 121 INT. CAR - FLASHBACK SEQUENCE - DAY\n\n A man in his mid-thirties, sitting in a car SOMEPLACE ("," I'm no\n terrorist. Everything I said was\n a lie... you have to believe me.\n I'm actually a complete coward.\n If I ever even saw a gun I'd--\n\n Harry whips his pistol out in one liquid motion and snaps the\n muzzle right in front of Simon's eyes.\n\n SIMON\n -- faint. Aahhh! Don't kill me.\n I'm not a spy. I'm nothing. I'","HELEN AND SIMON as she leans even closer.\n\n HELEN\n What is it you want me to do?\n\n SIMON\n Not here. I'll call you and\n we'll rendezvous again.\n (he looks around)\n We have to leave separately, so\n we aren't seen together. For\n your safety.\n\n HELEN\n You'll call me then?\n\n SIMON\n "," It's killer. Look at me-- I'm\n not that much to look at. No\n really. I can be honest. But I\n got 'em lining up, and not just\n skanks, either. Some are.\n\n HARRY\n So what's your angle?\n\n SIMON\n Sorry. Trade secret.\n\n HARRY\n (grinning)\n Sure. Set me up and then don"],["wreckage on the bridge, the\n whole unbelievable panorama.\n\n Then she looks at Harry and-- Grins. She's alive! And so is\n he. And not only that, this is the biggest rush of her life.\n Harry grins back. Surprised and pleased that she is more of a\n soul-mate than he ever knew.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n\n 294 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY\n\n ANGLE ON A HARRI","cing gracefully to\n the ocean below. It hits with an enormous explosion of water.\n\n\n 293 INT. / EXT. BELL 206 COPTER - DAY\n\n HARRY PULLS HELEN up onto the skid with him, getting her\n stable. She is gasping, holding on for dear life. She looks\n down at the ocean, the burning wreckage on the bridge, the\n whole unbelievable panorama.\n\n Then she looks at Harry and-- Grins. ","67 EXT. UNDERWATER - NIGHT\n\n Harry is still swimming. He reaches the edge of the fire and\n surfaces, gasping for breath. Treading water he scans the\n dock.\n\n\n 268 EXT. WATER OF THE DOCK - HARRY'S POV - NIGHT\n\n Amid the fire and smoke, he sees Juno walking Helen at gun\n point toward a LIMO.\n\n\n 269 EXT. WAREHOUSE - N","the other agents and runs after Helen.\n She sprints through the trees, Harry pounding after her. He\n grabs her and gets her in a headlock. She bites the hell out\n of his arm. Harry yells and lets her go, just as-- Keough runs\n up and matter-of-factly clips her on the head with his weapon.\n Standard operating procedure. Which is why he can't understand\n why Harry punches him, knocking him down.\n\n Harry supports a sagging Helen, gesturing sharply to","A TERRORIST comes around a corner behind him,\n shouts-- Harry dives for cover as the guy fires, but-- He trips\n on a pipe and goes sprawling-- Losing the AK47, which slides\n under some equipment and-- Seven terrorists run toward him,\n with guns raised.\n\n HARRY\n (to Helen)\n SHOOT!!\n\n\n 258 INT. WAREHOUSE - CATWALK - NIGHT\n\n HELEN fires a burst at the terrorists","\n the dash as the shattered edge of the causeway rushes toward\n them--\n\n\n 292 EXT. LIMO - DAY\n\n HARRY'S HAND grabs Helen's. He pulls her out of the car just\n as the limo clears the edge. She is jerked through the\n sunroof, screaming. The car falls away, arcing gracefully to\n the ocean below. It hits with an enormous explosion of water.\n\n\n 293 INT. / EX","Giving Harry the\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\n\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\n\n HARRY\n Don't move.\n\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\n between her thigh","the\n surface above him. Harry kicks hard, trying to swim beyond the\n inferno above him so he can surface.\n\n\n 266 EXT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n CLOSE ON HELEN, watching the burning wreckage of the gas truck.\n\n HELEN\n Oh my God. Harry.\n\n A PISTOL ENTERS FRAME. Its muzzle taps the back of her head.\n She gasps and turns to see-- JUNO, holding the","bitch.\n\n JUNO\n Sure. Say that now.\n\n Juno puts her arms around him and kisses him passionately. She\n breaks, looking at Helen to savor the effect. Helen is\n trembling with rage.\n\n JUNO\n Thanks for everything, Harry. It\n was good while it lasted.\n\n Juno crosses to the guard and takes a hand-grenade off his\n belt. Then she goes to Helen and places it between her knees.\n She p"," sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\n\n\n 312 EXT. ROOF - OVERLOOKING EDGE - DAY\n\n ANGLE LOOKING DOWN. Malik, Dana, the street far below. With\n an unbelievable roar the Harrier sweeps in beneath Dana,\n FILLING FRAME.\n\n\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\n\n Harry has the canopy","melt metal. Gib gives a\n fatalistic shrug.\n\n GIB\n Take Franklin, it's quicker.\n\n Harry makes the turn, squealing tires.\n\n GIB\n You don't have any pictures\n though, do ya. Huh? *\n\n\n 173 EXT. BRIDGE - NIGHT\n\n Helen pulls her car under the bridge. She checks her watch.\n Helen notices that her hand is shaking. She looks around and ","exist and yells at the terrorists to\n remove the other weapons. Jackhammers tear into the stone\n figures.\n\n Helen is just staring at Harry, her mouth open. He turns to\n her, not knowing what to say. He shrugs sheepishly.\n\n HARRY\n What can I say? I'm a spy.\n\n She just looks at him for a long time. She moves closer,\n staring and staring, letting it sink in. Then she hauls off\n and slugs him","and seizes him in a two-\n hand neck-breaker-- SNAP.\n\n Two more run around the corner of a building. Harry stomps his *\n foot down on one of the AKs, which is lying across a log. It *\n flips into the air and he catches it in firing position . . *\n . and takes them out with two well-aimed bursts. Helen comes *\n out of the shadows staring at Harry in amazement. His shirt is\n ripped, he is scrat","sees the chopper start an attack run. He comes out into\n the open, going straight downhill like a rocket. The chopper\n gets suckered in... trying to hit him, getting right down\n behind him... and suddenly-- Harry slides to a stop in an\n explosion of powder and whips up the rifle. P-P-P-POW! He\n rakes a burst across the windshield. The startled pilot\n swerves and-- Suddenly two tall pine trees are right in front\n of him.\n\n K","one of the guards puts a burst right\n across Harry's path. Harry's skis are hit and he tumbles,\n comes out of it... running down the hill like a juggernaut in\n his heavy boots. He has lost the rifle somewhere in the snow.\n\n Harry takes cover behind the burning wreck of the downed\n chopper, which still has its engine running. The ski patrol\n opens fire from upslope. Rounds whacking against the disabled\n helicopter.\n\n Harry looks down the slope and gets","\n opens fire from upslope. Rounds whacking against the disabled\n helicopter.\n\n Harry looks down the slope and gets an idea. He jerks the\n unconscious pilot out and pushes on the fuselage, rocking it.\n It slips over the edge. He leaps inside as it topples forward\n and slides down the slope.\n\n\n 30 INT./ EXT. HELICOPTER - MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT\n\n Harry adds throttle and works the footpedals,","rier pilots stand nearby, watching the\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\n finger pressed in his ear, listening to his headset. He waves\n to Harry to come to him.\n\n Harry detaches from Helen and walks over to him. Helen watches\n him go... back to work. She glances over at the two Harrier\n pilots.\n\n HELEN\n (to the pilots)\n That's my husband.\n\n HARRY goes into the hudd","he is telling the truth.\n\n HELEN *\n (grinning) *\n It wore off.\n\n At that moment, they hear yelling from the cinder-block\n building.\n\n HARRY\n They found the bodies. Come on--\n\n\n 249 EXT. SWAMP - NIGHT\n\n Harry takes her hand and they sprint for cover at the edge of\n the mangrove swamp. A LIGHT HITS THEM"," CRASH!! The door lock is shattered by tremendous force and\n THREE MEN burst into the room. We may recognize them as\n workers from Juno's shop. They are wielding pistols and are\n clearly part of Malik's terrorist brigade.\n\n Harry is still groggy, and he doesn't want to start anything\n with Helen there, and risk her getting shot. He acquiesces as\n they pull him to his feet.\n\n HELEN\n He's got nothing to do","\n\n Helen grabs her purse and rushes out, going right past the\n stack where Harry is standing, dumbfounded. He looks like he\n was slammed in the stomach with a lead pipe. His whole like is\n unravelling.\n\n\n 117 EXT. BUILDING - DAY\n\n Gib sees Harry crossing the street, holding his stomach. He\n seems dazed. He is not so much walking to the car as wandering\n in its general direction. He stops, in the street. "],[" Why?\n\n FAISIL\n (he shrugs)\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\n\n TRILBY\n This is impressive, gentlemen.\n Of course, it would have been\n even more impressive if you\n actually knew where he was.\n\n HARRY\n We'll get him.\n\n TRILBY\n Yes. You will.\n (meaning-- you damn\n well better)\n Harry,"," translates to you?!\n\n FAISIL\n Sorry, sir. Uh... here's what we\n got.\n\n He hits a button and a photo of Khaled fills a wall-screen.\n\n FAISIL\n Jamal Khaled. We think he's\n dirty so we raid his financial\n files... Check it out...\n\n Faisil hits some buttons and a second screen lights up with the\n data for their raid.\n\n FAISIL\n ","ISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\n winding mountain road a half-mile from the chateau, whose\n lights are visible through the trees.\n\n Faisil jumps in and goes to the eyepiece of a huge telephoto\n nightvision scope. The eerie green image lurches as he sweeps\n the grounds, locating the boathouse.\n\n\n 6 EXT. BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Conce","the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People in\n his wake look at each other like \"Do you know him?\" They\n shrug, go on with their conversation. Harry moves through the\n crowd. Scanning.\n\n HARRY\n There's Daddy Petrobucks.\n\n HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\n of the party and owner of the"," Harry is at one of the urinals, apparently taking a leak.\n Mahmoud goes to the mirror. Starts combing his hair. He\n doesn't much notice the pack of Camels sitting on the counter\n nearby. Harry is whistling. Shaking himself.\n\n HARRY'S POV - In the video glasses Harry sees himself and\n Mahmoud. Yusif comes into the restroom, seemingly ignoring\n both Harry and Mahmoud, as if heading for the stalls. As he\n passes behind","\n\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cubicles.\n There is a hushed quality here. People do not joke. They do\n not hurry. There are a lot of computer screens displaying\n information from around the world. It looks like a combination\n of NASA mission control and FBI headquarters.\n\n Fast Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\n cubicle.\n\n HARRY\n ","commands. We see familiar \"windows\n appear\". The words are all in Arabic characters.\n\n FAISIL\n These are encrypted files, guys.\n This is going to take me a few\n minutes.\n\n\n 14 OMITTED *\n\n\n 15 INT. 2ND FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT *\n\n TIGHT ON LIBRARY DOOR. It opens a crack and a dental mirror *\n comes out, looking around","\n Faisil hits some buttons and a second screen lights up with the\n data for their raid.\n\n FAISIL\n One hundred million in wire\n transfers from the COMMERCE BANK *\n INTERNATIONAL-- *\n\n GIB\n Which we all know is a front for\n certain nations to fund terrorist *\n activities. Something big is *\n going down --\n\n FAISIL *\n And we","- NIGHT\n\n Gib, listening, rolls his eyes. He looks through the night-\n vision scope. Guards are running around outside the chateau.\n Harry's stirred up the hornet's nest. Faisil is still jamming\n at the keyboard.\n\n FAISIL\n Okay, files are unlocked. I'm\n in. I'm down, baby. I got my\n hand up her dress and I'm going\n for the gold. I'm--","panting, snorting horse. It clomps around the tight elevator.\n The woman is trying to crawl between her husband and the wall.\n\n HARRY\n Can you just press the top floor,\n please.\n\n The man nods mutely and complies. Their elevator takes off,\n rising after Malik's.\n\n\n 97 INT. HOTEL LOBBY - NIGHT\n\n Gib runs in with Faisil and Keough. They follow the path of\n destruction,"," FAISIL\n She lives in Rome, but she does\n stuff here the Smithsonian and\n has a lot of diplomatic\n connections, so she has offices *\n here. *\n\n Gib starts tangoing with an imaginary partner.\n\n GIB\n Sounds like a job for a\n specialist.\n\n\n 52 INT. TASKER HOUSE/ KITCHEN - NIGHT (10PM)\n\n DING! Harry opens the mic","\"GIB\" GIBSON, an overweight twenty-\n year-man with a lived in looking face. Gib answers Harry via\n his headset.\n\n GIB\n Roger that. \n (he covers the mike and\n turns)\n Hey, Fize! Get your butt in\n here. Harry's inside.\n\n Outside, FAST FAISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\n ","go. We can still make our\n flight.\n\n As Faisil is getting into the van behind Harry, TWO GUARD TEAMS\n ON SNOWMOBILES roar around the bend behind them, fish-tailing\n on the ice. Faisil OPENS FIRE. One snowmobile swerves over\n the embankment. The other pulls up broadside, and the guards\n duck behind it. Gib floors it and the van roars down the\n mountain. Faisil is still Ramboing","sweating, wondering if he\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\n\n MALIK\n -- But now the Oppressed have *\n been given a mighty sword, to *\n strike back at their enemies. *\n Unless the US pulls all military\n forces out of the Persian Gulf\n area, immediately and forever,\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\n one major US city each week until\n these demands are","Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\n cubicle.\n\n HARRY\n Come on, Fize. We're late for\n our butt-grinding.\n\n Faisil gulps his coffee and hurries after them.\n\n\n 49 INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY\n\n A dark and severe conference room, with large-screen computer\n displays at one end. Glowering at one end of the long,\n polished table, is"," I'm no\n terrorist. Everything I said was\n a lie... you have to believe me.\n I'm actually a complete coward.\n If I ever even saw a gun I'd--\n\n Harry whips his pistol out in one liquid motion and snaps the\n muzzle right in front of Simon's eyes.\n\n SIMON\n -- faint. Aahhh! Don't kill me.\n I'm not a spy. I'm nothing. I'"," So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\n\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\n chain from around his neck and holds","button and a green light comes on.\n\n\n 13 INT. VAN - NIGHT\n\n Gib and Faisil watch as their monitor screen lights with DATA\n from Khaled's private computer.\n\n FAISIL\n Affirmatory. We are in. *\n\n Fast Faisil is a computer ace. His fingers fly on the keyboard\n as he types rapid key commands. We see familiar \"windows\n appear\". The words are all in Arabic characters.\n\n FAISIL\n ","he clicks through HEADSHOTS\n of known terrorists. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. Harry is very\n focussed. He stops. He goes back one. Studies the face.\n\n\n 110 INT. ANALYSIS ROOM - TIGHT ON THE SCREEN - DAY\n\n A defiant looking Syrian with a full beard.\n\n HARRY holds up his hand, blocking out the beard, concentrating\n on the eyes.\n\n HARR","itaries, businessman and minor mid-\n east nobility. They are a high-octane mixture of new oil money\n and old European money, and run the spectrum from stodgy\n bankers to playboy arms dealers.\n\n Harry strolls amiably among the glittering woman, the cigar\n smoking men, casually snagging a glass of champagne and a\n canape from the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People"],["HELEN AND SIMON as she leans even closer.\n\n HELEN\n What is it you want me to do?\n\n SIMON\n Not here. I'll call you and\n we'll rendezvous again.\n (he looks around)\n We have to leave separately, so\n we aren't seen together. For\n your safety.\n\n HELEN\n You'll call me then?\n\n SIMON\n "," HELEN\n I understand.\n\n SIMON\n It's my job to risk my life, but\n not yours. I feel bad about\n bringing you into this, but\n you're the only one I can trust.\n\n Simon creates an atmosphere of danger. His haggardness give\n him an air of mystery and desperation.\n\n HELEN\n Where were you? On a... uh, *\n mission?\n\n SIM"," HELEN\n Where were you? On a... uh, *\n mission?\n\n SIMON\n Ssshhh! We say Op. Covert *\n operation. And this one got a\n little rough.\n\n HELEN\n Worse than Cairo? *\n\n SIMON\n Cairo was a day at the beach next *\n to this.\n\n\n 138 INT. S","\n her way to a booth in the back. Sitting in the shadows, facing\n the door, is SIMON. She sits down opposite him. He doesn't\n smile or kiss her in greeting, but glances around the room like\n he expects a threat to leap out at any moment.\n\n SIMON\n Are you sure you weren't\n followed?\n\n HELEN\n I kept looking back, like you\n taught me. I didn't see anyone.\n\n "," to go over there, honey.\n\n HARRY\n Sure, hon.\n\n She walks unhurriedly out of the room. Behind her back, Harry\n is grinning. The second Helen is out of his sight line, she\n runs up the stairs. Harry waits a moment then picks up the\n phone.\n\n\n 226 INT. OMEGA SECTOR/ ELECTRONIC LAB -- NIGHT\n\n Gib is in a corner of the electronics lab, in an area dedicated\n ","OMEGA SECTOR - NIGHT\n\n GIB, AT OMEGA SECTOR, uses the SPEECH SYNTHESIZER to disguise\n his voice.\n\n GIB\n Listen carefully. Go to the\n Hotel Marquis in one hour. Pick\n up an envelope marked Doris at\n the front desk. And dress sexy.\n\n\n 225 INT. TASKER HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n BACK ON HELEN as she reacts to that.\n\n ","*\n eyes and they stay in the kiss. *\n\n They are in no danger, but the effect is stunning. The classic *\n mushroom cloud appears at the horizon. Helen watches, awed,\n the most glorious and terrifying sight of our age.\n\n HELEN *\n That was some kiss. *\n\n The two young Harrier pilots stand nearby, watching the\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\n finger pressed in his","It's your mystery man.\n\n HELEN\n Simon? Ohmygod.\n\n Helen, normally the image of composure, goes suddenly fluttery\n and nervous as a high-school girl. She takes the phone,\n turning away from Allison.\n\n HELEN\n Hello, Simon?\n (pause)\n It's all right. There's no one\n around.\n\n Helen glimpses Allison with her ears cocked and gives her a\n sc",". CAFE - DAY\n\n HELEN LEANS CLOSE TO SIMON. She clearly is hanging on his\n every word.\n\n HELEN\n Tell me what happened?\n\n SIMON\n I'm sorry, I can't.\n\n HELEN\n You can trust me completely.\n\n SIMON\n I know. But it would compromise\n your safety too much to know\n certain things.\n\n HELEN\n "," HELEN\n I kept looking back, like you\n taught me. I didn't see anyone.\n\n SIMON\n Okay. It's just, things are a\n bit hot for me right now. If I\n get a signal...\n (holds up a cigarette\n lighter meaningfully)\n I may have to leave suddenly.\n\n HELEN\n I understand.\n\n SIMON\n It's my job to risk my life, but"," She goes inside.\n\n\n 136 INT. SEDAN - DAY\n\n HARRY\n Give me audio.\n\n Gib hits a switch and they hear the clamor of the cafe at lunch\n rush come over a speaker.\n\n\n 137 INT. CAFE - DAY\n\n The restaurant is nothing fancy. A little dark. Helen makes\n her way to a booth in the back. Sitting in the shadows, facing\n the door, is SIMON. She sits","rier pilots stand nearby, watching the\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\n finger pressed in his ear, listening to his headset. He waves\n to Harry to come to him.\n\n Harry detaches from Helen and walks over to him. Helen watches\n him go... back to work. She glances over at the two Harrier\n pilots.\n\n HELEN\n (to the pilots)\n That's my husband.\n\n HARRY goes into the hudd","Y as he moves through the offices. He passes\n through a library-like maze of records stacks. Through them he\n can see Helen at her desk. But as he approaches, still\n concealed, ALLISON puts a call on hold and whips around to\n Helen.\n\n ALLISON\n Helen!\n (grinning\n conspiratorially)\n It's your mystery man.\n\n HELEN\n Simon? Ohmygod.\n\n Helen, normally the image","T. TRAILER - NIGHT\n\n Gib comes out first with Helen. She struggles like a wildcat,\n frankly surprising the hell out of Harry. Simon is brought\n out, dazed and compliant. Helen whips around, KNEEING GIB\n right in the balls. Gib OOPHS and doubles over, and Helen runs\n for it.\n\n Harry leaves Simon with the other agents and runs after Helen.\n She sprints through the trees, Harry pounding after her. He\n grabs her and gets","There's no one\n around.\n\n Helen glimpses Allison with her ears cocked and gives her a\n scowl and a shooing motion. Allison turns away, grinning.\n\n\n 115 INT. OFFICE - STACKS OF RECORDS - DAY\n\n ON HARRY, behind the stacks, reacting. He silently mouths\n \"SIMON?!\"\n\n\n 116 INT. HELEN'S OFFICE - DAY\n\n H","Helen pulls her car under the bridge. She checks her watch.\n Helen notices that her hand is shaking. She looks around and *\n the place seems deserted. She is about to leave when she sees\n headlights flash briefly in the shadows.\n\n A red-and-white Vette emerges from the darkness and pulls up\n next to her. Simon motions for her to get in quickly.\n\n\n 174 EXT. PARKING LOT - THROUGH BINOCULARS - NIGHT\n\n ","I know. But it would compromise\n your safety too much to know\n certain things.\n\n HELEN\n Right, of course. I was worried\n when I didn't hear from you that\n night.\n\n SIMON\n It's strange. I knew I was in a\n woman's thoughts when I was\n shooting it out with those\n assassins.\n\n\n 144 INT. SEDAN - DAY\n\n HARRY","Helen's red Accord. The door slides\n open and Helen gets out, helped my black-garbed hands. She is\n wearing her hood, which is whisked off by one of the hands.\n She whirls in time to see the door slide shut and the van speed\n off. She watches it drive off into the night.\n\n\n 213 EXT. ROCK QUARRY - NIGHT\n\n The van pulls up near the edge of a large quarry. The door\n opens and Simon is pushed out,","into the phone in hushed, urgent\n tones.\n\n SIMON\n Helen. I need your help. Can\n you meet me tonight?\n\n INTERCUT WITH HELEN at her office.\n\n\n 170 INT. HELEN'S OFFICE - DAY/FLASHBACK/INTERCUT\n\n HELEN\n What's happened?\n\n SIMON\n It's serious. That's all I can *\n say"," your safety.\n\n HELEN\n You'll call me then?\n\n SIMON\n Yes. Now go.\n\n 148\n thru OMITTED *\n 155\n\n PAGES 66-67 OMITTED *\n\n 156 EXT. STREET/CAR LOT - DAY\n\n Simon is cruising in the Corvette with the radio blasting.\n Thinking he is"],["sweating, wondering if he\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\n\n MALIK\n -- But now the Oppressed have *\n been given a mighty sword, to *\n strike back at their enemies. *\n Unless the US pulls all military\n forces out of the Persian Gulf\n area, immediately and forever,\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\n one major US city each week until\n these demands are","they\n have the arming box and all *\n equipment necessary to detonate\n the four warheads. This is\n absolutely the real thing,\n gentlemen.\n\n The camera swings off Harry to Malik, standing before the rest\n of the Jihad warriors, who are assembled behind the four bombs.\n\n MALIK\n You have killed our women and *\n children, bombed our cities from\n afar like cowards, and dare to\n call","the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People in\n his wake look at each other like \"Do you know him?\" They\n shrug, go on with their conversation. Harry moves through the\n crowd. Scanning.\n\n HARRY\n There's Daddy Petrobucks.\n\n HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\n of the party and owner of the"," Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\n over the inside of the metal building.\n\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside"," Harry is at one of the urinals, apparently taking a leak.\n Mahmoud goes to the mirror. Starts combing his hair. He\n doesn't much notice the pack of Camels sitting on the counter\n nearby. Harry is whistling. Shaking himself.\n\n HARRY'S POV - In the video glasses Harry sees himself and\n Mahmoud. Yusif comes into the restroom, seemingly ignoring\n both Harry and Mahmoud, as if heading for the stalls. As he\n passes behind","ISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\n winding mountain road a half-mile from the chateau, whose\n lights are visible through the trees.\n\n Faisil jumps in and goes to the eyepiece of a huge telephoto\n nightvision scope. The eerie green image lurches as he sweeps\n the grounds, locating the boathouse.\n\n\n 6 EXT. BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Conce","can trigger\n this bomb instantly. All I have\n to do is turn that key...\n (he points fiercely at\n the bomb)\n ... and five million of your\n people will die.\n\n The reporter glances down, nervously.\n\n REPORTER\n What key?\n\n MALIK\n (pointing like the\n guy's blind)\n That key right there!\n\n Malik looks down. The key is gone.\n\n","to it, his eyes glistening. A hush has\n fallen over the group.\n\n MALIK\n Open it.\n\n The latches are released and the lid lifted. Inside is\n machined metal object, roughly conical, about five feet long.\n Malik signals to Harry to step closer and look.\n\n MALIK\n Do you know what this is?\n\n HARRY\n Can you give me a clue? It could\n be a water heater for","pillar of *\n holy fire will rise at this place *\n as a sign to out enemies. *\n (Malik theatrically\n turns the arming key)\n It is done...\n\n Malik jumps out of the pit. He signals and terrorists pour\n concrete into the pit, covering the bomb. He begins ranting\n again.\n\n HARRY\n Now no man can stop us. We are\n set on our course. "," activities. Something big is *\n going down --\n\n FAISIL *\n And we know that a week ago four *\n MIRV warheads were smuggled out *\n of the former Soviet Republic of *\n Kazakhstan . . .\n\n HARRY *\n We think Khaled's group has *\n bought the nukes and is bringing *\n them to U.S","real.\n\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\n chain from around his neck and holds up a METAL ARMING KEY.\n Then jumps down into the pit and inserts it into the warhead's\n arming computer. Harry is listening intently, translating for\n Helen.\n\n HARRY\n In ninety minutes a pillar of *\n holy fire will rise at this place *\n as a sign to out enemies. *",".5 kilos of\n enriched uranium, with a\n plutonium trigger. The nominal\n yield is 10 kilotons.\n (in Arabic, subtitled) *\n Release her and I'll cooperate.\n\n Malik lowers the knife from her jaw. He turns away from her\n like she has ceased to exist and yells at the terrorists to\n remove the other weapons. Jackhammers tear into the stone\n figures.\n\n Helen","\"GIB\" GIBSON, an overweight twenty-\n year-man with a lived in looking face. Gib answers Harry via\n his headset.\n\n GIB\n Roger that. \n (he covers the mike and\n turns)\n Hey, Fize! Get your butt in\n here. Harry's inside.\n\n Outside, FAST FAISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\n ","barely\n see him move. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Three .45 slugs go through\n Mahmoud's chest, shattering the mirror behind him. He flops on\n his butt, slumping against the wall.\n\n Yusif, who is easily Harry's size, bellows and grabs his gun\n arm. They smash against the walls, struggling for the gun.\n Yusif, locked to Harry, hurls him against the stalls. They hit\n a locked door,","MALIK\n If we were wrong about him...\n then the last thing you see will\n be your blood spraying in his\n face.\n\n Harry steps forward, his face grim.\n\n HARRY\n This is a Soviet MIRV-Six, from\n an SS-22N launch vehicle. The\n warhead contains 14.5 kilos of\n enriched uranium, with a\n plutonium trigger. The nominal\n ","NEARBY, Akbar is going through the contents of Helen's handbag\n and Harry's wallet. He rips open the bottom stitching and\n pulls out the geo-positioning transmitter.\n\n AKBAR\n Abu! Look at this! *\n\n Malik looks at the tracker and then smashes it to the floor.\n Helen looks at the crushed transmitter. She stares at Harry\n with dawning realization.\n\n HELEN\n You bugged me?","our women and *\n children, bombed our cities from\n afar like cowards, and dare to\n call us terrorists--\n\n Over the image of Malik, a LOW-BATTERY warning begins to flash.\n\n CUT TO SCENE, as Malik speaks into the camera, which is head by\n one of his men. The CAMERAMAN is sweating, wondering if he\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\n\n MALI"," It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\n but she is fairly composed now.\n\n DANA\n I have to go to the bathroom.\n\n The terrorists ignore her. A terrified ACTION NEWS REPORTER\n and his CAMERAMAN, under guard by TWO TERRORISTS, are hastily\n setting up to shoot Malik.\n CAMERAMAN\n Tape is rolling.\n\n MALIK\n This is a communique from Crimson\n ","Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\n and look toward the window.\n\n\n 307 EXT. HIGH RISE - DAY\n\n RISING INTO VIEW, LIKE A GARGOYLE FROM HELL, IS THE HARRIER.\n It fills the windows completely, hovering only a few feet\n outside. The terrorists raise their AK-47s to fire just as\n Harry hits the 20mm nose-cannon.\n\n\n 308"," So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\n\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\n chain from around his neck and holds"],[" Harry is at one of the urinals, apparently taking a leak.\n Mahmoud goes to the mirror. Starts combing his hair. He\n doesn't much notice the pack of Camels sitting on the counter\n nearby. Harry is whistling. Shaking himself.\n\n HARRY'S POV - In the video glasses Harry sees himself and\n Mahmoud. Yusif comes into the restroom, seemingly ignoring\n both Harry and Mahmoud, as if heading for the stalls. As he\n passes behind","the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People in\n his wake look at each other like \"Do you know him?\" They\n shrug, go on with their conversation. Harry moves through the\n crowd. Scanning.\n\n HARRY\n There's Daddy Petrobucks.\n\n HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\n of the party and owner of the"," Why?\n\n FAISIL\n (he shrugs)\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\n\n TRILBY\n This is impressive, gentlemen.\n Of course, it would have been\n even more impressive if you\n actually knew where he was.\n\n HARRY\n We'll get him.\n\n TRILBY\n Yes. You will.\n (meaning-- you damn\n well better)\n Harry,","sweating, wondering if he\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\n\n MALIK\n -- But now the Oppressed have *\n been given a mighty sword, to *\n strike back at their enemies. *\n Unless the US pulls all military\n forces out of the Persian Gulf\n area, immediately and forever,\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\n one major US city each week until\n these demands are","to it, his eyes glistening. A hush has\n fallen over the group.\n\n MALIK\n Open it.\n\n The latches are released and the lid lifted. Inside is\n machined metal object, roughly conical, about five feet long.\n Malik signals to Harry to step closer and look.\n\n MALIK\n Do you know what this is?\n\n HARRY\n Can you give me a clue? It could\n be a water heater for","\n\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cubicles.\n There is a hushed quality here. People do not joke. They do\n not hurry. There are a lot of computer screens displaying\n information from around the world. It looks like a combination\n of NASA mission control and FBI headquarters.\n\n Fast Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\n cubicle.\n\n HARRY\n ","NEARBY, Akbar is going through the contents of Helen's handbag\n and Harry's wallet. He rips open the bottom stitching and\n pulls out the geo-positioning transmitter.\n\n AKBAR\n Abu! Look at this! *\n\n Malik looks at the tracker and then smashes it to the floor.\n Helen looks at the crushed transmitter. She stares at Harry\n with dawning realization.\n\n HELEN\n You bugged me?","He doesn't meet her\n gaze. She nods and they go into the private office.\n\n\n 59 INT. JUNO'S OFFICE - DAY\n\n MALIK comes in behind her and closes the door. The moment they\n are away from public observation, his manner changes. His\n humble posture straightens and his eyes flash intensely as he\n approaches her. Without warning he SLAPS HER HARD ACROSS THE\n FACE.\n\n MALIK\n ","itaries, businessman and minor mid-\n east nobility. They are a high-octane mixture of new oil money\n and old European money, and run the spectrum from stodgy\n bankers to playboy arms dealers.\n\n Harry strolls amiably among the glittering woman, the cigar\n smoking men, casually snagging a glass of champagne and a\n canape from the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People","*\n Now he's formed his own splinter\n faction called CRIMSON JIHAD.\n\n GIB *\n Guess he thought the other\n terrorist groups were too warm\n and fuzzy for his taste.\n\n FAISIL\n They call him \"The Sand Spider\". *\n\n TRILBY\n Why?\n\n FAISIL\n (he shrugs)\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\n","And sudden pandemonium as Malik roars through the lobby, with\n Harry charging along behind him. Malik guns it across the\n lounge, knocking over tables. He gets air at the top of the\n steps going up to the RESTAURANT.\n\n Harry swerves to avoid a panicking guest and finds himself\n careening toward the JAZZ QUARTET at a full gallop. He gathers\n the animal and LEAPS (in glorious SLOW MOTION) over the\n bassist, who is","Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\n men, clearly CRIMSON JIHAD TERRORISTS are busy at various\n activities. Many of them carry AK47 assault rifles.\n\n MALIK is supervizing them as they finish unloading a tarp-\n covered object about 15 feet high from the ship. A rusting\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\n an AERO","There are three men in the car. YUSIF and MAHMOUD are in the\n front, with Mahmoud driving. In the back, shadowed, we can\n just make out ABU MALIK. Yusif is massively built, with a body\n like a beer-keg. Mahmoud is skinny and intense.\n\n \n 73 OMITTED *\n\n\n 74 INT./EXT. GIB'S CAR - MALL - NIGHT\n\n Harry puts","ISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\n winding mountain road a half-mile from the chateau, whose\n lights are visible through the trees.\n\n Faisil jumps in and goes to the eyepiece of a huge telephoto\n nightvision scope. The eerie green image lurches as he sweeps\n the grounds, locating the boathouse.\n\n\n 6 EXT. BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Conce","barely\n see him move. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Three .45 slugs go through\n Mahmoud's chest, shattering the mirror behind him. He flops on\n his butt, slumping against the wall.\n\n Yusif, who is easily Harry's size, bellows and grabs his gun\n arm. They smash against the walls, struggling for the gun.\n Yusif, locked to Harry, hurls him against the stalls. They hit\n a locked door,","\"GIB\" GIBSON, an overweight twenty-\n year-man with a lived in looking face. Gib answers Harry via\n his headset.\n\n GIB\n Roger that. \n (he covers the mike and\n turns)\n Hey, Fize! Get your butt in\n here. Harry's inside.\n\n Outside, FAST FAISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\n ","Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\n cubicle.\n\n HARRY\n Come on, Fize. We're late for\n our butt-grinding.\n\n Faisil gulps his coffee and hurries after them.\n\n\n 49 INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY\n\n A dark and severe conference room, with large-screen computer\n displays at one end. Glowering at one end of the long,\n polished table, is"," Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\n over the inside of the metal building.\n\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside","doors and opening for a bellman coming out with\n bags and Malik blasts past him into the lobby.\n\n HARRY ducks, galloping through the doors after him.\n\n\n 93 INT. HOTEL - NIGHT\n\n Acres of marble and red carpet. Liveries porters. Guests\n dressed for evening, the men in suits, diamonds on the women.\n And sudden pandemonium as Malik roars through the lobby, with\n Harry charging along behind him. Malik guns it across the\n "," So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\n\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\n chain from around his neck and holds"],["\n guy's blind)\n That key right there!\n\n Malik looks down. The key is gone.\n\n MALIK\n (to his men)\n Someone has stolen the key!\n\n He turns, looking around wildly. Malik then sees Dana running\n for the stairwell to the roof. He pulls a pistol and shoots at\n her, but hits the wall as she bangs through the door. He runs\n after her.\n\n\n 305 EXT.","the\n ARMING KEY by its chain. Dangling it over the edge. He\n signals to his men not to fire.\n\n DANA\n (terrified, but\n thinking)\n You shoot me, this'll fall.\n\n Malik advances slowly, his eyes glistening ferally. She backs\n up a step with each of his, moving along the edge of the roof.\n Malik keeps his pistol aimed at her chest.\n\n DANA\n Don't come any","boom of a small crane, used for lifting\n building supplies. Careful to keep the key dangling over open\n space, Dana climbs up on the lattice-work boom and moves out\n beyond the edge of the building, never taking her eyes off\n Malik. She is hyperventilating, terrified, but thinking\n clearly.\n\n Malik steps up on the crane, crawling out after her. He knows\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\n game which will end when"," sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\n\n\n 312 EXT. ROOF - OVERLOOKING EDGE - DAY\n\n ANGLE LOOKING DOWN. Malik, Dana, the street far below. With\n an unbelievable roar the Harrier sweeps in beneath Dana,\n FILLING FRAME.\n\n\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\n\n Harry has the canopy","her. He knows\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\n game which will end when she reaches the end of the boom. Dana\n puts the key between her teeth so she can hang on better. It\n is windy and the boom is swinging.\n\n\n 306 INT. 20TH FLOOR - DAY\n\n The Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\n and look toward the window.\n\n\n 307 ","along\n the edge.\n\n MALIK\n Come on, child. Give me the key.\n (smiling)\n Don't you want to live? I give\n you my word.\n\n DANA\n No way you whacko.\n\n She reaches the corner of the building. Her back touches\n something. it is the boom of a small crane, used for lifting\n building supplies. Careful to keep the key dangling over open\n space, D","ana. *\n\n HARRY *\n My Dana!?\n\n GIB\n They must have grabbed her during\n the night... we didn't know.\n Sorry, Harry, I--\n\n\n 298 EXT. HARRIER - DAY\n\n But Harry is already moving. He sprints toward the nearest\n Harrier, witch is idling nearby. Gib runs after him.\n\n GIB\n Harry! We'","pit directly under Dana.\n\n HARRY\n (shouting)\n Let go baby! I've got you!\n Daddy's got you!\n\n\n 314 EXT. ROOF / HARRIER - DAY\n\n Malik lunges for her wrist. She screams and lets go-- Dana\n drops and hits the windshield of the hovering jet-- Harry grabs\n her with his left hand, right hand still on the stick-- He\n holds her until she can get",", but hits the wall as she bangs through the door. He runs\n after her.\n\n\n 305 EXT. BUILDING / ROOF - DAY\n\n ON THE ROOF, Malik bursts through the stairwell door. His TWO\n MEN have followed him. Malik stops suddenly when he sees--\n Dana standing at the edge of the roof. She is holding the\n ARMING KEY by its chain. Dangling it over the edge. He\n signals to his men not to fire.\n","1 EXT. ROOF - CRANE BOOM - DAY\n\n MALIK IS STILL ADVANCING out the crane boom. Dana slips as she\n backs up, toppling off the boom. She is hanging now by her\n hands over a 20 story drop.\n\n Malik is almost to her. He needs a hand free to grab her. He\n sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\n\n\n 312 EXT. ROOF -","edge of the roof.\n Malik keeps his pistol aimed at her chest.\n\n DANA\n Don't come any closer. I'll drop\n it! I swear to God.\n\n MALIK\n If you drop it, I will have no\n reason not to kill you.\n\n He advances, calling her bluff. She backs away from him along\n the edge.\n\n MALIK\n Come on, child. Give me the key.\n ("," the cops sealing off the area. *\n He renezvous'd there with about *\n a dozen more faction members. *\n They're barricaded on the *\n twentieth floor.\n (he gets very serious) *\n Harry, they have a hostage. It's *\n Dana. *\n\n HARRY *\n My Dana!?\n\n G"," It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\n but she is fairly composed now.\n\n DANA\n I have to go to the bathroom.\n\n The terrorists ignore her. A terrified ACTION NEWS REPORTER\n and his CAMERAMAN, under guard by TWO TERRORISTS, are hastily\n setting up to shoot Malik.\n CAMERAMAN\n Tape is rolling.\n\n MALIK\n This is a communique from Crimson\n ",". Her heart stops.\n\n DANA\n Oh my Gooooood.\n\n\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\n\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\n\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\n front of her friends.\n\n HARRY\n There are going to be some","ISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\n winding mountain road a half-mile from the chateau, whose\n lights are visible through the trees.\n\n Faisil jumps in and goes to the eyepiece of a huge telephoto\n nightvision scope. The eerie green image lurches as he sweeps\n the grounds, locating the boathouse.\n\n\n 6 EXT. BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Conce","\n\n\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\n\n Harry has the canopy up. Malik sees Harry, ten feet below.\n His eyes narrow with an all-consuming rage. He glances at the\n pistol on the beam. Back at the girl, the key in her teeth--\n So close.\n\n Harry maneuvers the cockpit directly under Dana.\n\n HARRY\n (shouting)\n Let go baby! I've","?\n\n HELEN\n Out.\n\n Dana is momentarily puzzled by the reversal of roles.\n\n\n 166 INT. ENTRY WAY - NIGHT\n\n ON HELEN, checking herself in the hall mirror. She looks at\n her big dowdy purse. Hating it suddenly. She pulls her\n pocketbook out and rummages on the top shelf of the hall closet\n for a small handbag, then charges out.\n\n 167 OMITTED\n\n\n"," So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\n\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\n chain from around his neck and holds","guards\n duck behind it. Gib floors it and the van roars down the\n mountain. Faisil is still Ramboing on full-auto.\n\n FAISIL\n This is GREAT!! I never get to\n shoot!\n\n CUT TO:\n\n\n 32 EXT. DULLES AIRPORT - NIGHT\n\n An American Airlines 747 touches down amid puffs of tire smoke.\n\n\n 33 EXT. SUBURBAN D.C","never had one\n of these.\n\n They are in her room, which is your basic room from Hell.\n Pearl Jam posters, and an unbelievable clutter of junk,\n magazines and cheap jewelry. Harry kisses her on the cheek, to\n which she submits dutifully. He looks at his watch and heads\n for the door.\n\n HARRY\n You better hurry. You're going\n to be late for school.\n\n Harry hurries out and Dana considers the Swiss village"],["\n Faisil hits some buttons and a second screen lights up with the\n data for their raid.\n\n FAISIL\n One hundred million in wire\n transfers from the COMMERCE BANK *\n INTERNATIONAL-- *\n\n GIB\n Which we all know is a front for\n certain nations to fund terrorist *\n activities. Something big is *\n going down --\n\n FAISIL *\n And we"," (to Harry)\n So now it's Tasker? Not\n Renquist?\n\n\n 239 INT. G-3 JET - NIGHT\n\n They enter the luxurious passenger cabin of the plane. Helen\n has never seen anything like this.\n\n HELEN\n Look, Harry's not part of this.\n He's just a sales rep.\n\n JUNO\n No, my dear, he is a federal\n agent. He killed two of",".\n\n Harry and Gib step up to the combination retinal-thumbprint-\n voice scanners. Harry presses his thumb against a black-glass\n plate for laser scan, and looks into the eye-piece of the\n retinal scanner.\n\n HARRY\n Harry Tasker. One zero zero two\n four.\n\n GIB\n Albert Gibson. Three four nine\n nine one.\n\n Their clearance appears on a monitor on Janice's desk.\n\n J","ISE the terrorists have barricaded themselves\n on the twentieth floor. There are 12 TERRORISTS, all with\n automatic weapons. Occasionally one of them will fire a burst\n down a stairwell with an AK-47. Miami-Dade SWAT team members\n are deployed in the stairwell but are keeping their distance.\n\n\n 304 INT. HIGH RISE - ON THE 21ST FLOOR - DAY\n\n Malik is sequestered with the bomb. It sits on","HELEN\n Kettleman, Barnes and McGrath.\n I'm a legal secretary.\n\n VOICE (HARRY)\n Of course. Mrs. Tasker. And\n what were you going with the\n international terrorist, Carlos\n the Jackal? Taking dictation?\n\n HELEN\n He said he was an American agent.\n\n\n 201 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - NIGHT\n\n INSIDE THE","\n Tasker, so I suggest you\n cooperate. If we want to know\n the most intimate details of your\n life, you'd better tell us.\n\n Helen glowers at the mirror. Her hands are shaking and she\n hates it that they can probably see she is afraid.\n\n HELEN\n My husband is a good man.\n\n GIB\n But he's not exactly ringing your\n bell lately, right? I mean--\n\n Harry covers the m","some crates, and we see that his video-\n tapes demands are running on CNN. Harry's face fills the\n screen, verifying the the nuclear weapons as a real threat. He\n is identified at the bottom of the screen as HARRY TASKER,\n ATOMIC ENERGY COMMISSION. Dana stares at her father's face on\n the national news. It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\n but she is fairly composed now.\n\n DANA\n ","mouth and turns slowly, scanning... revealing:\n\n HARRY TASKER. Our hero. Harry floats with just his eyes above\n the surface, silent as a water snake, as a guard passes on a\n footpath nearby.\n\n After a few beats Harry slips out of his tanks and fins,\n letting them sink, and climbs the frozen ladder onto the dock.\n He moves like a ninja into the shadows of the boathouse.\n Opening a WATERPROOF BAG, he pulls out a walky","She rolls toward him, giving him a sleepy hug\n and a kiss.\n\n HELEN\n (a drowsy murmur)\n Hi, honey. How was the flight?\n\n HARRY\n Fine, honey. Stay asleep.\n\n HELEN\n Okay.\n\n As she drifts off, Harry puts his head on the pillow and stares\n at the ceiling.\n\n DISSOLVE TO:\n\n\n 37 INT. TASKER","and Harry are working out of brief-case mobile com-units.\n Several Omega agents with headsets are reading maps, giving\n commands, coordinating the evacuation, mobilizing their own\n forces. The energy is controlled but very high, everybody\n talking at once. This is the day they all have trained for.\n It is impressive to watch.\n\n GIB\n --you tell the son of bitch this\n is Bright Boy Alert. Repeat,\n a Bright Boy Alert. And I need\n ","\n\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cubicles.\n There is a hushed quality here. People do not joke. They do\n not hurry. There are a lot of computer screens displaying\n information from around the world. It looks like a combination\n of NASA mission control and FBI headquarters.\n\n Fast Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\n cubicle.\n\n HARRY\n ","O\n How?\n\n MALIK\n Use the gifts that Allah has\n given you.\n\n\n 60 INT. TEKTEL SYSTEMS OFFICES - DUSK *\n\n The phone rings on the desk of CHARLENE, Harry's secretary at *\n Tektel Systems, the permanent front-company for Omega Sector. *\n\n SECRETARY\n Hello, Tektel Systems. Mr. *\n Tasker'"," Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\n over the inside of the metal building.\n\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside","again.\n\n HELEN\n You know her?\n\n Juno signals with her eyes and the terrorists march the\n prisoners toward the plane.\n\n JUNO\n Who's your little friend?\n\n HELEN\n I'm Helen Tasker. Harry's my\n husband. And you are?\n\n JUNO\n (to Harry)\n So now it's Tasker? Not\n Renquist?\n\n\n 239","Where?\n\n SIMON\n The same place. One o'clock. I\n have to go now. See you\n tomorrow. Remember, I need you.\n\n\n 123 INT. LISTENING ROOM - DAY\n\n The last line is played ON HARRY, reading. Now he is seeing\n the proof in black and white. He slowly crumples the paper in\n one hand, his expression dark.\n\n\n 124 INT. TASKER HO"," FAISIL\n She lives in Rome, but she does\n stuff here the Smithsonian and\n has a lot of diplomatic\n connections, so she has offices *\n here. *\n\n Gib starts tangoing with an imaginary partner.\n\n GIB\n Sounds like a job for a\n specialist.\n\n\n 52 INT. TASKER HOUSE/ KITCHEN - NIGHT (10PM)\n\n DING! Harry opens the mic","Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\n men, clearly CRIMSON JIHAD TERRORISTS are busy at various\n activities. Many of them carry AK47 assault rifles.\n\n MALIK is supervizing them as they finish unloading a tarp-\n covered object about 15 feet high from the ship. A rusting\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\n an AERO"," 210 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - NIGHT\n\n INSIDE THE OBSERVATION ROOM Harry states at her. He smiles.\n\n GIB\n Now what?\n\n HARRY\n (leaning forward to the\n mike)\n There is only one solution to\n your problem, Mrs. Tasker. You\n must work for us.\n\n GIB\n (whispering to Harry)\n Oh shit.","4 INT. TEKTEL OFFICES - DAY *\n\n Harry and Gib come out of an elevator on the 12th floor. *\n Behind the receptionist is a burnished metal sign which reads *\n TEKTEL SYSTEMS. They cross a open floor of cubicle spaces. *\n There is the hum of activity everywhere. A normal day at a *\n normal business. *\n\n SECRETARY *\n Morning, Mr. Tasker. ","he clicks through HEADSHOTS\n of known terrorists. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. Harry is very\n focussed. He stops. He goes back one. Studies the face.\n\n\n 110 INT. ANALYSIS ROOM - TIGHT ON THE SCREEN - DAY\n\n A defiant looking Syrian with a full beard.\n\n HARRY holds up his hand, blocking out the beard, concentrating\n on the eyes.\n\n HARR"],["mouth and turns slowly, scanning... revealing:\n\n HARRY TASKER. Our hero. Harry floats with just his eyes above\n the surface, silent as a water snake, as a guard passes on a\n footpath nearby.\n\n After a few beats Harry slips out of his tanks and fins,\n letting them sink, and climbs the frozen ladder onto the dock.\n He moves like a ninja into the shadows of the boathouse.\n Opening a WATERPROOF BAG, he pulls out a walky","\n Tasker, so I suggest you\n cooperate. If we want to know\n the most intimate details of your\n life, you'd better tell us.\n\n Helen glowers at the mirror. Her hands are shaking and she\n hates it that they can probably see she is afraid.\n\n HELEN\n My husband is a good man.\n\n GIB\n But he's not exactly ringing your\n bell lately, right? I mean--\n\n Harry covers the m","She rolls toward him, giving him a sleepy hug\n and a kiss.\n\n HELEN\n (a drowsy murmur)\n Hi, honey. How was the flight?\n\n HARRY\n Fine, honey. Stay asleep.\n\n HELEN\n Okay.\n\n As she drifts off, Harry puts his head on the pillow and stares\n at the ceiling.\n\n DISSOLVE TO:\n\n\n 37 INT. TASKER"," (to Harry)\n So now it's Tasker? Not\n Renquist?\n\n\n 239 INT. G-3 JET - NIGHT\n\n They enter the luxurious passenger cabin of the plane. Helen\n has never seen anything like this.\n\n HELEN\n Look, Harry's not part of this.\n He's just a sales rep.\n\n JUNO\n No, my dear, he is a federal\n agent. He killed two of","knots.\n\n HARRY\n (to the pilots)\n Roger, Mike Three Five, you are\n cleared to engage. Be advised,\n your targets have Stingers and\n light machine guns.\n\n\n 276 INT. COCKPIT OF LEAD HARRIER - DAY\n\n The pilot, like all jet pilots, seems icy calm.\n\n PILOT\n Copy that, Bright Boy command.\n (to his wingman)\n Tally","some crates, and we see that his video-\n tapes demands are running on CNN. Harry's face fills the\n screen, verifying the the nuclear weapons as a real threat. He\n is identified at the bottom of the screen as HARRY TASKER,\n ATOMIC ENERGY COMMISSION. Dana stares at her father's face on\n the national news. It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\n but she is fairly composed now.\n\n DANA\n ","and Harry are working out of brief-case mobile com-units.\n Several Omega agents with headsets are reading maps, giving\n commands, coordinating the evacuation, mobilizing their own\n forces. The energy is controlled but very high, everybody\n talking at once. This is the day they all have trained for.\n It is impressive to watch.\n\n GIB\n --you tell the son of bitch this\n is Bright Boy Alert. Repeat,\n a Bright Boy Alert. And I need\n ","calm.\n\n PILOT\n Copy that, Bright Boy command.\n (to his wingman)\n Tally ho.\n\n\n 277 EXT. OVERSEAS HIGHWAY - DAY\n\n The terrorists see the Harriers approaching on a low attack\n run, and scramble to get out their Stingers.\n\n The Harriers open fire with cannons and rocket pods on the\n trucks below. The 20mm cannons rip the ocean on either side of\n","make\n the minimum safe distance we need\n an airlift on, immediately--\n\n Gib whips around to Harry, lowering his headset mike.\n\n GIB\n I can get 3 Marine Corps Harriers\n here in about 12 minutes.\n They're on maneuvers out of Boca\n Chica.\n\n HARRY\n (checking his watch)\n Get 'em. I'll brief them on the\n way in.\n\n","\n (checking his watch)\n Get 'em. I'll brief them on the\n way in.\n\n\n 273 EXT. OVERSEAS HIGHWAY - DAY\n\n TRAFFIC on the two causeways is almost non-existent this early\n in the morning. The three rental trucks, followed by the limo\n about a mile back, are almost the only vehicles.\n\n\n 274 INT. LIMO - DAY\n\n Juno has a 9mm"," *\n Yessir, but . . . *\n\n GIB *\n That's coming right from the *\n President, Captain. *\n\n PILOT *\n Yessir. Uh . . . sir? You're *\n going to have to sign for the *\n aircraft. *\n\n GIB *\n I'll sign for","oy. The Aerospatiale passes\n overhead, hugging the deck, headed for Miami at 150 knots.\n\n\n 271 EXT. DOCK/ WAREHOUSE - DAWN\n\n It looks like the aftermath of a battle... burning wreckage,\n black smoke, bodies. Not a living soul around. The smoke\n swirls as two big BELL 206 HELICOPTERS settle on the middle of\n the dock. GIB jumps out of the nearest with an AR-"," I need to borrow this thing for\n a few minutes.\n\n He pushes past the pilot before the guy can react.\n\n PILOT\n Excuse me . . . sir?! *\n\n GIB *\n Force Comm cleared you to give us *\n total cooperation, right? *\n\n PILOT *\n Yessir, but . . . *\n\n GIB *\n ","4 INT. TEKTEL OFFICES - DAY *\n\n Harry and Gib come out of an elevator on the 12th floor. *\n Behind the receptionist is a burnished metal sign which reads *\n TEKTEL SYSTEMS. They cross a open floor of cubicle spaces. *\n There is the hum of activity everywhere. A normal day at a *\n normal business. *\n\n SECRETARY *\n Morning, Mr. Tasker. ","the ice above.\n\n\n 4 EXT. CANAL AND BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n A dock extends into the frozen canal, just behind a large\n boathouse. There is a faint chipping sound. The ice breaks\n quietly, and the pieces are slid back. A head appears, in a\n rubber drysuit hood. The DIVER slips the regulator out of his\n mouth and turns slowly, scanning... revealing:\n\n HARRY TASKER. Our hero. Harry floats with just","UT TO:\n\n\n 294 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY\n\n ANGLE ON A HARRIER, landing in full-hover on the causeway. The\n shriek of the jet engine is enormous. It bounces down onto its\n wheels like a big inscect. The other remaining Harrier is\n already down, behind it.\n\n\n 295 EXT. BELL 206 - DAY\n\n TRACKING past burning wreckage to Harry's Bell 2","sees the chopper start an attack run. He comes out into\n the open, going straight downhill like a rocket. The chopper\n gets suckered in... trying to hit him, getting right down\n behind him... and suddenly-- Harry slides to a stop in an\n explosion of powder and whips up the rifle. P-P-P-POW! He\n rakes a burst across the windshield. The startled pilot\n swerves and-- Suddenly two tall pine trees are right in front\n of him.\n\n K",".\n\n Harry and Gib step up to the combination retinal-thumbprint-\n voice scanners. Harry presses his thumb against a black-glass\n plate for laser scan, and looks into the eye-piece of the\n retinal scanner.\n\n HARRY\n Harry Tasker. One zero zero two\n four.\n\n GIB\n Albert Gibson. Three four nine\n nine one.\n\n Their clearance appears on a monitor on Janice's desk.\n\n J","- PREDAWN\n\n There is just enough light to see some geography. The island\n is very tiny. Running right over it and to the horizon in both\n directions is the OVERSEAS HIGHWAY. The terrorists' trucks\n rumble up an on-ramp past a sign that says MIAMI - 110. The\n limo is the last member of the convoy. The Aerospatiale passes\n overhead, hugging the deck, headed for Miami at 150 knots.\n\n"," *\n equipment cases. Faisil looks up from a computer screen *\n suddenly.\n\n FAISIL *\n We've lost the signal.\n\n Gib, who has been pacing the aisile whirls to the screen. *\n\n GIB\n Son of a bitch! Where?\n\n FAISIL *\n It's an island in the Keys, out *\n past Marathon. *\n\n Gib goes"],[" Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\n\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\n is captivatingly beautiful","rier pilots stand nearby, watching the\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\n finger pressed in his ear, listening to his headset. He waves\n to Harry to come to him.\n\n Harry detaches from Helen and walks over to him. Helen watches\n him go... back to work. She glances over at the two Harrier\n pilots.\n\n HELEN\n (to the pilots)\n That's my husband.\n\n HARRY goes into the hudd","the lapels, and\n slams him against the car.\n\n HARRY\n STOP. CHEERING. ME. UP.\n\n We see in Harry's rage, frustration, and hurt confusion a\n vulnerability we never expected to see.\n\n GIB\n What'dya expect Harry? She's a\n flesh and blood woman. And\n you're never there. It was only\n a matter of time.\n\n Harry sags. His","Giving Harry the\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\n\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\n\n HARRY\n Don't move.\n\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\n between her thigh","Harry is open and encouraging... they\n laugh together... then when he looks away Harry goes snake-\n eyed. He could kill Simon with one punch. He's visualizing\n his wife getting porked by this guy.\n\n HARRY\n But with you, she gets to be hot,\n right?\n\n SIMON\n Red hot. Her thighs steam.\n\n They laugh together. Harry's laugh is getting a bit brittle.\n He speeds up, his knuckles","HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\n of the party and owner of the chateau. He is fat and animated,\n greeting guests with a flourish. As Harry watches he warmly *\n greets a beautiful WOMAN. They become absorbed in a *\n conversation.\n\n The woman glances up and sees Harry checking her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n","her husband. Harry looks up from\n behind cover-- to see all seven dead. Now it's his turn to be\n amazed. He signals to her to run... get off the exposed\n catwalk. She makes it through the door to the outside stairs\n as bullets start hitting the steel walls behind her.\n\n\n 259 INT. WAREHOUSE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT\n\n A TERRORIST with a knife runs at the unarmed Harry. Harry\n snatches up a jack-hammer and","minutes and she's ready to bear\n his children\n (to Harry)\n What's your exit strategy Twinkle\n Toes?\n\n\n 24 EXT. CHATEAU/ FRONT ENTRANCE - NIGHT\n\n Harry nods to the security men at the door as he strides\n confidently through. He goes down the steps to the broad\n terrace above the motor court. Behind Harry, a GUARD lowers\n his walky talky and starts after him.\n\n GU","her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n\n\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\n\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\n\n\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\n\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\n cross","\n\n HARRY\n It can't be.\n\n GIB\n Same thing happened to me with\n wife two. I had no idea until I\n came home and the house was\n empty. I mean empty. She even\n took the ice-cube trays from the\n fridge. What kind of person\n would think of that?\n\n HARRY\n (not listening)\n I still don't believe it.\n\n ","\n\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\n is captivatingly beautiful, and her gaze is piercing.\n\n HARRY\n (indicating the bas-\n relief)\n Magnificent, isn't it?\n\n WOMAN\n Yes. Hi, I'm Juno Skinner. I\n thought I knew most of Khaled's\n friends but I don't believe I\n know you.","wreckage on the bridge, the\n whole unbelievable panorama.\n\n Then she looks at Harry and-- Grins. She's alive! And so is\n he. And not only that, this is the biggest rush of her life.\n Harry grins back. Surprised and pleased that she is more of a\n soul-mate than he ever knew.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n\n 294 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY\n\n ANGLE ON A HARRI","has just\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\n\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry","\n Yes, that's it.\n\n TIGHT ON Harry's eyes as he studies her. His game, meant to\n give her a dangerous fantasy, is actually turning him on\n mightily. He is amazed to see her playing the role, getting\n into it. This is not the Helen is thought he knew for sixteen\n years.\n\n HARRY (TAPE)\n Now, lie on the bed and close\n your eyes.\n\n She does. Harry rises and goes to her, bringing","toward the back of the warehouse and then leaves. Harry is\n left alone in the vast space.\n\n Only a few lights are on, rendering the place somewhat Gothic.\n Harry strolls in the direction the workman pointed. Ahead of\n him, is the huge facade of a royal tomb. There is a flickering\n light inside. A shadow moves across the wall in the entryway.\n\n HARRY\n Hello?\n\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARR",". Her heart stops.\n\n DANA\n Oh my Gooooood.\n\n\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\n\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\n\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\n front of her friends.\n\n HARRY\n There are going to be some"," He wanted me to go with him on a\n mission, to pose as him wife.\n\n HARRY\n And you agreed?\n\n HELEN\n Yes.\n\n HARRY\n (amazed)\n Why?\n\n Helen searches herself for the explanation.\n\n HELEN\n I don't know. I guess I needed\n something...\n\n HARRY\n What did you need?\n\n HEL","SSHHH. It's all he can do. He bends over her and\n brings his lips slowly down to her. He touches them to hers so\n slowly that she barely knows he is kissing her. Then he takes\n her in a passionate kiss.\n\n And she grabs the lamp on the bedside table and SMASHES IT OVER\n HIS HEAD. Harry flies off onto the floor, groaning and\n semiconscious.\n\n Helen flips on the light and grabs her clothes, starting to\n ","itaries, businessman and minor mid-\n east nobility. They are a high-octane mixture of new oil money\n and old European money, and run the spectrum from stodgy\n bankers to playboy arms dealers.\n\n Harry strolls amiably among the glittering woman, the cigar\n smoking men, casually snagging a glass of champagne and a\n canape from the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People","and seizes him in a two-\n hand neck-breaker-- SNAP.\n\n Two more run around the corner of a building. Harry stomps his *\n foot down on one of the AKs, which is lying across a log. It *\n flips into the air and he catches it in firing position . . *\n . and takes them out with two well-aimed bursts. Helen comes *\n out of the shadows staring at Harry in amazement. His shirt is\n ripped, he is scrat"],["Harry's head. Harry grabs\n his daughter with his left hand, holding her with all his\n strength and he-- Jinks the stick hard, just as-- Malik opens\n fire, but-- The plane tilts wildly and Malik topples, screaming--\n He slides along the wing, and falls over the leading edge--\n Only to catch himself on the only available hand-hold-- The\n last Sidewinder missile.\n\n\n 322 EXT. HARRIER / SIDEWINDER - DAY\n\n Harry","her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n\n\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\n\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\n\n\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\n\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\n cross"," microphone, belting out a punchy cover of the old Cream classic\n \"Sunshine of Your Love\". The guitar parts have been industrial-\n ized, and it actually sounds pretty hip.\n\n Harry watches from the shadows, standing behind a pillar not\n far from the stage. Watching his daughter gyrating in the\n spotlight. His reaction is hard to read.\n\n\n 219 INT. WAREHOUSE - CLOSE UP OF CIRCUIT-BREAKER - DAY\n\n TIGHT ON"," HARRY\n Did I tell you about the time we\n first met?\n\n She looks up at him, puzzled?\n\n HARRY\n You were quite young at the time.\n All wet and still attached to\n your mom by a cord. You opened\n your eyes and looked right at me.\n And I knew then I would always\n love you with all my heart.\n\n Dana stares at her father with a dawning awareness. This is\n not","minutes and she's ready to bear\n his children\n (to Harry)\n What's your exit strategy Twinkle\n Toes?\n\n\n 24 EXT. CHATEAU/ FRONT ENTRANCE - NIGHT\n\n Harry nods to the security men at the door as he strides\n confidently through. He goes down the steps to the broad\n terrace above the motor court. Behind Harry, a GUARD lowers\n his walky talky and starts after him.\n\n GU",". I know Harry.\n\n Helen hangs up the phone just as Dana strides through the room,\n putting on a jacket and heading for the front door.\n\n HELEN\n Where are you going?\n\n DANA\n Out. If Dad doesn't care enough\n about us to be here on his\n birthday, then why should I care?\n I'm going to a movie.\n\n HELEN\n No you're not. You're going to\n",". Her heart stops.\n\n DANA\n Oh my Gooooood.\n\n\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\n\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\n\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\n front of her friends.\n\n HARRY\n There are going to be some","\n fantasy daughter, he thinks\n everything's fine. But it's not\n fine. Nothing's fine.\n\n Dana runs out the kitchen by the other door. Helen runs\n after her.\n\n HELEN\n Dana! Come back here!\n\n The slamming door is her answer.\n\n\n 80 EXT. MALL - MEN'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Yusif sees Harry, up ahead, enter a public restroom. He\n","his own daughter.\n\n\n 319 EXT. BUILDING - DAY\n\n The helicopter appears around the corner, guns blazing in the\n doors. Harry pivots the plane and FIRES THE NOSE CANNON. The\n helicopter is riddled. It tilts and plummets, auto-rotating\n out of control.\n\n\n 320 EXT. BUILDING - ANGLE AT STREETLEVEL - DAY\n\n As the copter hits the ground and explodes.","never had one\n of these.\n\n They are in her room, which is your basic room from Hell.\n Pearl Jam posters, and an unbelievable clutter of junk,\n magazines and cheap jewelry. Harry kisses her on the cheek, to\n which she submits dutifully. He looks at his watch and heads\n for the door.\n\n HARRY\n You better hurry. You're going\n to be late for school.\n\n Harry hurries out and Dana considers the Swiss village"," Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\n\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\n is captivatingly beautiful","Giving Harry the\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\n\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\n\n HARRY\n Don't move.\n\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\n between her thigh"," Harry is still shocked by his *\n daughter's behavior.\n\n GIB\n Kids. Ten seconds of joy.\n Thirty years of misery.\n\n HARRY\n She knows not to steal. I've\n taught her better than that.\n\n GIB\n Yeah, but you're not her parents,\n anymore, you and Helen. Her\n parents are Axl Rose and Madonna.\n The five minutes you spend a day\n ","the lapels, and\n slams him against the car.\n\n HARRY\n STOP. CHEERING. ME. UP.\n\n We see in Harry's rage, frustration, and hurt confusion a\n vulnerability we never expected to see.\n\n GIB\n What'dya expect Harry? She's a\n flesh and blood woman. And\n you're never there. It was only\n a matter of time.\n\n Harry sags. His","and\n wrong.\n\n Dana studies something really fascinating at the end of a\n fingernail.\n\n HARRY\n Dana, are you listening to me?\n\n DANA\n Yeah, Dad.\n\n HARRY\n You know you can always talk to\n me. Right? Whatever is going on\n in your life, your mom and I'll\n understand.\n\n DANA\n Okay, Dad.\n\n H","RENT as she looks back and sees Harry following\n her. She is mortified that her father is actually tailing her\n\n DANA\n Oh my God! I think that's my\n dad!\n\n TRENT\n Hang on!\n\n Trent downshifts and punches it. The nimble little bike\n screams as it zips between cars.\n\n\n 106 INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY\n\n HARRY\n ","\n You're going to stay in school.\n Do you understand?\n\n DANA\n Why? So I can wind up like you?\n What's the point?\n\n You think Harry's going to really rain on her parade. But he\n doesn't. He becomes very tender. He pushes the hair back from\n her face.\n\n HARRY\n Did I tell you about the time we\n first met?\n\n She looks up at him,"," INT. HARRIER - COCKPIT - DAY\n\n HARRY PULLS DANA into the cockpit, settling her on his lap.\n\n HARRY\n Don't touch the stick, baby.\n\n She stares at her father in amazement. He banks away from the\n building, accelerating the jet. He grins at her. Raises one\n eyebrow. Woggles the plane's wings.\n\n HARRY\n Hi, pump","has just\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\n\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry"," DANA\n Great! You're going to believe\n that fat dweeb Mr. Hardy over\n your own daughter.\n\n HARRY\n I'm not sure what to believe\n anymore, young lady. You never\n used to lie to me. But lately\n you don't seem to know the\n difference between right and\n wrong.\n\n Dana studies something really fascinating at the end of a\n fingernail.\n\n HAR"],["he clicks through HEADSHOTS\n of known terrorists. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. Harry is very\n focussed. He stops. He goes back one. Studies the face.\n\n\n 110 INT. ANALYSIS ROOM - TIGHT ON THE SCREEN - DAY\n\n A defiant looking Syrian with a full beard.\n\n HARRY holds up his hand, blocking out the beard, concentrating\n on the eyes.\n\n HARR","\n\n HARRY holds up his hand, blocking out the beard, concentrating\n on the eyes.\n\n HARRY\n That's him.\n\n\n 111 INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY\n\n Harry slaps photos down in front of Trilby.\n\n HARRY\n Abu Kaleem Malik.\n\n GIB\n (reading from a file)\n Hardcore, highly fanatical, ultra- *\n fundamental","the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People in\n his wake look at each other like \"Do you know him?\" They\n shrug, go on with their conversation. Harry moves through the\n crowd. Scanning.\n\n HARRY\n There's Daddy Petrobucks.\n\n HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\n of the party and owner of the","terrorists return fire at Harry--\n Who sprints from cover to cover, reaching a side door-- Where\n he rakes one of the passing trucks with a burst-- But\n terrorists behind him in the building have a clear shot and\n rounds hit the wall next to him as he-- Dives through the door--\n\n\n 260 EXT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n --landing outside. He takes cover behind an aircraft REFUELING\n TRUCK. Not a good place. He is pinned down by automatic"," Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\n over the inside of the metal building.\n\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside"," So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\n\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\n chain from around his neck and holds","exist and yells at the terrorists to\n remove the other weapons. Jackhammers tear into the stone\n figures.\n\n Helen is just staring at Harry, her mouth open. He turns to\n her, not knowing what to say. He shrugs sheepishly.\n\n HARRY\n What can I say? I'm a spy.\n\n She just looks at him for a long time. She moves closer,\n staring and staring, letting it sink in. Then she hauls off\n and slugs him"," I'm no\n terrorist. Everything I said was\n a lie... you have to believe me.\n I'm actually a complete coward.\n If I ever even saw a gun I'd--\n\n Harry whips his pistol out in one liquid motion and snaps the\n muzzle right in front of Simon's eyes.\n\n SIMON\n -- faint. Aahhh! Don't kill me.\n I'm not a spy. I'm nothing. I'"," Harry's eyes are slitted down lethally as he stares across the\n street.\n\n\n 159 INT. CAR LOT SALES OFFICE - DAY (LATE AFTERNOON) *\n\n TIGHT ON A TAPE PLAYER, with Simon's hand adjusting the volume.\n The sound of traffic noise and middle-eastern music blares from\n the deck.\n\n PULL BACK to see Simon on the phone, talking loud, as if over\n the din of a real place.","her husband. Harry looks up from\n behind cover-- to see all seven dead. Now it's his turn to be\n amazed. He signals to her to run... get off the exposed\n catwalk. She makes it through the door to the outside stairs\n as bullets start hitting the steel walls behind her.\n\n\n 259 INT. WAREHOUSE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT\n\n A TERRORIST with a knife runs at the unarmed Harry. Harry\n snatches up a jack-hammer and","behind\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\n vicious street-fighter moves. Harry looks upslope as--\n\n A service gate opens in the perimeter wall and TEAMS OF\n SECURITY MEN in white snow-suits pour out, some on skis, some\n on SNOWMOBILES. A HELICOPTER rises over the wall in a blast of\n swirling snow. Its xenon lights rake through the trees,\n casting lur","is being loaded with conventional\n weapons, including machine guns and several HAND-LAUNCHED\n STINGER MISSILES. One of the nukes has been lowered into a pit\n cut in the concrete floor. Malik and most of the terrorists\n are gathered around it.\n\n A GUARD, F.G. on the catwalk, watches intently from the\n railing. So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC","you doing there?\n\n HARRY\n You wouldn't believe me.\n\n A pistol muzzle is jammed hard behind Helen's ear.\n\n TERRORIST LEADER\n Talk again, I kill you.\n\n They are hustled across a loading dock to a RENTAL VAN waiting *\n with the door open. A fourth terrorist slides the van door *\n shut after they get in and gets in behind the wheel. The van *\n takes off.\n\n "," He acquiesces as\n they pull him to his feet.\n\n HELEN\n He's got nothing to do with this.\n It's me you want, right?\n\n HARRY\n (to lead TERRORIST)\n Let the hooker go. She's not\n important.\n\n HELEN\n Harry, be quiet. Let me handle\n this.\n\n LEAD TERRORIST\n Shutup, both of you.","they\n have the arming box and all *\n equipment necessary to detonate\n the four warheads. This is\n absolutely the real thing,\n gentlemen.\n\n The camera swings off Harry to Malik, standing before the rest\n of the Jihad warriors, who are assembled behind the four bombs.\n\n MALIK\n You have killed our women and *\n children, bombed our cities from\n afar like cowards, and dare to\n call"," The thug leader cuffs her across the head to shut her up.\n\n HELEN\n That was unnecessary.\n\n\n 236 INT. HOTEL BASEMENT - NIGHT *\n\n A stairwell door opens and the terrorists rush Harry and Helen *\n through the basement labyrinth. *\n\n HELEN\n What were you doing there?\n\n HARRY\n You wouldn't believe me.\n\n A pistol muzzle is j",". The van doors open and the hostages are\n brought out. Harry sees a long black LIMO pulling up behind\n the van. The driver, an enormous man names AKBAR, hurries to\n open the passenger door. A slender pair of ankles emerge,\n followed by the rest of Juno Skinner, looking devastatingly\n beautiful but now quite sinister.\n\n To Helen it is like a living James Bond film, with the jet, the\n limo, the terrorists, and now an exotic femme fatale,"," CRASH!! The door lock is shattered by tremendous force and\n THREE MEN burst into the room. We may recognize them as\n workers from Juno's shop. They are wielding pistols and are\n clearly part of Malik's terrorist brigade.\n\n Harry is still groggy, and he doesn't want to start anything\n with Helen there, and risk her getting shot. He acquiesces as\n they pull him to his feet.\n\n HELEN\n He's got nothing to do",".\n\n HARRY\n (In Arabic/ subtitled)\n Where's the john around here? I\n have to take a major leak.\n\n The guard points warily down the corridor. Harry nods and\n heads that way, back toward the party.\n\n\n 16 INT. MAIN HALL/ STAIRCASE - NIGHT\n\n Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n"," the slides the car broadside, blocking both lanes. Malik locks\n up the brakes and the bike slides to a stop. Then the\n terrorist pops the clutch and wheels the bike around-- Jumping\n the curb and going straight at the entrance of THE HYATT\n REGENCY HOTEL.\n\n Bellmen and guests scatter as the bike roars right at them.\n The sliding doors and opening for a bellman coming out with\n bags and Malik blasts past him into the lobby.\n\n HARRY d"],["Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\n men, clearly CRIMSON JIHAD TERRORISTS are busy at various\n activities. Many of them carry AK47 assault rifles.\n\n MALIK is supervizing them as they finish unloading a tarp-\n covered object about 15 feet high from the ship. A rusting\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\n an AERO","0 EXT. ROOF - NEAR HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n Malik's TWO REMAINING MEN run to the helicopter, gesticulating\n to the pilot to get ready to take off. The pilot revs the\n turbine and the rotor whirls faster. The two men jump in,\n picking up M-60 machine guns.\n\n\n 311 EXT. ROOF - CRANE BOOM - DAY\n\n MALIK IS STILL ADVANCING out","horns echo up the glass canyons.\n\n\n 302 EXT. STREET - DAY\n\n ANGLE AT STREETLEVEL as cops use bullhorns and bad attitudes to\n clear the street around the building, setting up a perimeter\n two blocks away.\n\n\n 303 INT. HIGH RISE - DAY\n\n INSIDE THE HIGH RISE the terrorists have barricaded themselves\n on the twentieth floor. There are 12 TERRORISTS, all with\n ","And sudden pandemonium as Malik roars through the lobby, with\n Harry charging along behind him. Malik guns it across the\n lounge, knocking over tables. He gets air at the top of the\n steps going up to the RESTAURANT.\n\n Harry swerves to avoid a panicking guest and finds himself\n careening toward the JAZZ QUARTET at a full gallop. He gathers\n the animal and LEAPS (in glorious SLOW MOTION) over the\n bassist, who is","sweating, wondering if he\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\n\n MALIK\n -- But now the Oppressed have *\n been given a mighty sword, to *\n strike back at their enemies. *\n Unless the US pulls all military\n forces out of the Persian Gulf\n area, immediately and forever,\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\n one major US city each week until\n these demands are",".\n He just keeps going, floor after floor, using the time to\n think.\n\n The older woman is still just staring, trying not to breathe.\n The horse flicks her in the face with his tail.\n\n\n 99 INT. /EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT *\n\n The rooftop has a spectacular view of the city. TRACKING WITH *\n Malik as he comes out of the elevator, rides to the far edge of *\n the roof and slides to a stop. "," Harry is at one of the urinals, apparently taking a leak.\n Mahmoud goes to the mirror. Starts combing his hair. He\n doesn't much notice the pack of Camels sitting on the counter\n nearby. Harry is whistling. Shaking himself.\n\n HARRY'S POV - In the video glasses Harry sees himself and\n Mahmoud. Yusif comes into the restroom, seemingly ignoring\n both Harry and Mahmoud, as if heading for the stalls. As he\n passes behind"," sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\n\n\n 312 EXT. ROOF - OVERLOOKING EDGE - DAY\n\n ANGLE LOOKING DOWN. Malik, Dana, the street far below. With\n an unbelievable roar the Harrier sweeps in beneath Dana,\n FILLING FRAME.\n\n\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\n\n Harry has the canopy","boom of a small crane, used for lifting\n building supplies. Careful to keep the key dangling over open\n space, Dana climbs up on the lattice-work boom and moves out\n beyond the edge of the building, never taking her eyes off\n Malik. She is hyperventilating, terrified, but thinking\n clearly.\n\n Malik steps up on the crane, crawling out after her. He knows\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\n game which will end when","doors and opening for a bellman coming out with\n bags and Malik blasts past him into the lobby.\n\n HARRY ducks, galloping through the doors after him.\n\n\n 93 INT. HOTEL - NIGHT\n\n Acres of marble and red carpet. Liveries porters. Guests\n dressed for evening, the men in suits, diamonds on the women.\n And sudden pandemonium as Malik roars through the lobby, with\n Harry charging along behind him. Malik guns it across the\n ","her. He knows\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\n game which will end when she reaches the end of the boom. Dana\n puts the key between her teeth so she can hang on better. It\n is windy and the boom is swinging.\n\n\n 306 INT. 20TH FLOOR - DAY\n\n The Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\n and look toward the window.\n\n\n 307 ","There are three men in the car. YUSIF and MAHMOUD are in the\n front, with Mahmoud driving. In the back, shadowed, we can\n just make out ABU MALIK. Yusif is massively built, with a body\n like a beer-keg. Mahmoud is skinny and intense.\n\n \n 73 OMITTED *\n\n\n 74 INT./EXT. GIB'S CAR - MALL - NIGHT\n\n Harry puts"," Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\n over the inside of the metal building.\n\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside","\n\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cubicles.\n There is a hushed quality here. People do not joke. They do\n not hurry. There are a lot of computer screens displaying\n information from around the world. It looks like a combination\n of NASA mission control and FBI headquarters.\n\n Fast Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\n cubicle.\n\n HARRY\n ","ISE the terrorists have barricaded themselves\n on the twentieth floor. There are 12 TERRORISTS, all with\n automatic weapons. Occasionally one of them will fire a burst\n down a stairwell with an AK-47. Miami-Dade SWAT team members\n are deployed in the stairwell but are keeping their distance.\n\n\n 304 INT. HIGH RISE - ON THE 21ST FLOOR - DAY\n\n Malik is sequestered with the bomb. It sits on","Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\n and look toward the window.\n\n\n 307 EXT. HIGH RISE - DAY\n\n RISING INTO VIEW, LIKE A GARGOYLE FROM HELL, IS THE HARRIER.\n It fills the windows completely, hovering only a few feet\n outside. The terrorists raise their AK-47s to fire just as\n Harry hits the 20mm nose-cannon.\n\n\n 308","side to side. The Crimson Jihad is\n vaporized.\n\n\n 309 EXT. ROOF - CRANE BOOM - DAY\n\n Malik hears the thunder of the jet and the firing, but from\n where he is he can't see what's going on. He focuses on the\n key. He must have that key.\n\n\n 310 EXT. ROOF - NEAR HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n Malik's TWO REMAINING MEN","half-crumbling pier. Next to\n the pier is a dilapidated corrugated-metal warehouse building,\n two stories high. There are floodlights on the dock but beyond\n is black night, with the ghostly shapes of mangroves and palms.\n It is an abandoned facility on what appears to be a tiny island\n in the Caribbean.\n\n There is a lot of activity. Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\n men, clearly C","their AK-47s to fire just as\n Harry hits the 20mm nose-cannon.\n\n\n 308 INT. / EXT. HIGH RISE - 20TH FLOOR - DAY\n\n Glass explodes into glittering mist, and terrorists explodes\n into bloody spray as Harry pivots the plane and the cannon\n sweeps the floor clear from side to side. The Crimson Jihad is\n vaporized.\n\n\n 309 EXT. ROOF -"," the slides the car broadside, blocking both lanes. Malik locks\n up the brakes and the bike slides to a stop. Then the\n terrorist pops the clutch and wheels the bike around-- Jumping\n the curb and going straight at the entrance of THE HYATT\n REGENCY HOTEL.\n\n Bellmen and guests scatter as the bike roars right at them.\n The sliding doors and opening for a bellman coming out with\n bags and Malik blasts past him into the lobby.\n\n HARRY d"],[" the cops sealing off the area. *\n He renezvous'd there with about *\n a dozen more faction members. *\n They're barricaded on the *\n twentieth floor.\n (he gets very serious) *\n Harry, they have a hostage. It's *\n Dana. *\n\n HARRY *\n My Dana!?\n\n G","\n guy's blind)\n That key right there!\n\n Malik looks down. The key is gone.\n\n MALIK\n (to his men)\n Someone has stolen the key!\n\n He turns, looking around wildly. Malik then sees Dana running\n for the stairwell to the roof. He pulls a pistol and shoots at\n her, but hits the wall as she bangs through the door. He runs\n after her.\n\n\n 305 EXT."," sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\n\n\n 312 EXT. ROOF - OVERLOOKING EDGE - DAY\n\n ANGLE LOOKING DOWN. Malik, Dana, the street far below. With\n an unbelievable roar the Harrier sweeps in beneath Dana,\n FILLING FRAME.\n\n\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\n\n Harry has the canopy"," DANA\n I'm done.\n\n Dana bolts. She has eaten about four bites. Harry sits at the\n table, alone. He feels isolated, knowing that everybody is\n lying to everybody else. He is a man without a center, lost.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n\n 120 INT. OMEGA SECTOR/ LISTENING ROOM - DAY\n\n TRACKING ALONG THE BANK OF RECORDERS. Harry comes to a\n particular","along\n the edge.\n\n MALIK\n Come on, child. Give me the key.\n (smiling)\n Don't you want to live? I give\n you my word.\n\n DANA\n No way you whacko.\n\n She reaches the corner of the building. Her back touches\n something. it is the boom of a small crane, used for lifting\n building supplies. Careful to keep the key dangling over open\n space, D"," It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\n but she is fairly composed now.\n\n DANA\n I have to go to the bathroom.\n\n The terrorists ignore her. A terrified ACTION NEWS REPORTER\n and his CAMERAMAN, under guard by TWO TERRORISTS, are hastily\n setting up to shoot Malik.\n CAMERAMAN\n Tape is rolling.\n\n MALIK\n This is a communique from Crimson\n ","some crates, and we see that his video-\n tapes demands are running on CNN. Harry's face fills the\n screen, verifying the the nuclear weapons as a real threat. He\n is identified at the bottom of the screen as HARRY TASKER,\n ATOMIC ENERGY COMMISSION. Dana stares at her father's face on\n the national news. It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\n but she is fairly composed now.\n\n DANA\n ","her. He knows\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\n game which will end when she reaches the end of the boom. Dana\n puts the key between her teeth so she can hang on better. It\n is windy and the boom is swinging.\n\n\n 306 INT. 20TH FLOOR - DAY\n\n The Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\n and look toward the window.\n\n\n 307 ",", but hits the wall as she bangs through the door. He runs\n after her.\n\n\n 305 EXT. BUILDING / ROOF - DAY\n\n ON THE ROOF, Malik bursts through the stairwell door. His TWO\n MEN have followed him. Malik stops suddenly when he sees--\n Dana standing at the edge of the roof. She is holding the\n ARMING KEY by its chain. Dangling it over the edge. He\n signals to his men not to fire.\n","the\n ARMING KEY by its chain. Dangling it over the edge. He\n signals to his men not to fire.\n\n DANA\n (terrified, but\n thinking)\n You shoot me, this'll fall.\n\n Malik advances slowly, his eyes glistening ferally. She backs\n up a step with each of his, moving along the edge of the roof.\n Malik keeps his pistol aimed at her chest.\n\n DANA\n Don't come any",". Her heart stops.\n\n DANA\n Oh my Gooooood.\n\n\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\n\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\n\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\n front of her friends.\n\n HARRY\n There are going to be some",".\n\n GIB\n The CCD camera and transmitter\n and inside a pack of smokes.\n Slick little unit, huh?\n\n IN POV we see Dana enter the living room. She looks around\n carefuly, then quickly lifts Gib's jacket and slips out his\n wallet. She palms two twenties in the blink of an eye and puts\n the wallet back. Pro moves.\n\n HARRY\n Son of a bitch!\n\n GIB","Helen? Hi, it's Gib. Harry\n remembered something he left at\n the office. You know Harry.\n\n As he is talking he sees that a bus has blocked his view of the\n station wagon.\n\n\n 79 INT. HARRY'S HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n She sighs fatalistically.\n\n HELEN\n Yeah, Gib. I know Harry.\n\n Helen hangs up the phone just as Dana strides through the room,\n putting on a jacket and","boom of a small crane, used for lifting\n building supplies. Careful to keep the key dangling over open\n space, Dana climbs up on the lattice-work boom and moves out\n beyond the edge of the building, never taking her eyes off\n Malik. She is hyperventilating, terrified, but thinking\n clearly.\n\n Malik steps up on the crane, crawling out after her. He knows\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\n game which will end when","the band members can react, they hear the big\n metal doors rolling and sunlight blazes in. Dana stares into\n the glare, seeing an ominous silhouette standing there. The\n shadowy figure walks toward them.\n\n FIGURE\n You! Come with me.\n\n The figure comes straight toward Dana. To her horror is turns\n out to be her dad. Her heart stops.\n\n DANA\n Oh my Gooooood.\n\n\n 221 EX"," 216 INT./EXT. SEDAN - DAY\n\n HARRY\n Absolutely. But can it wait?\n I'm on a critical surveillance\n right now.\n\n Harry spots something up ahead. He snaps his fingers and\n points, then whips a pair of gyro-stabilized binoculars to his\n eyes.\n\n HARRY'S POV THROUGH SCOPE: Trent, on the Yamaha with Dana on\n the back","1 EXT. ROOF - CRANE BOOM - DAY\n\n MALIK IS STILL ADVANCING out the crane boom. Dana slips as she\n backs up, toppling off the boom. She is hanging now by her\n hands over a 20 story drop.\n\n Malik is almost to her. He needs a hand free to grab her. He\n sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\n\n\n 312 EXT. ROOF -","\n\n\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\n\n Harry has the canopy up. Malik sees Harry, ten feet below.\n His eyes narrow with an all-consuming rage. He glances at the\n pistol on the beam. Back at the girl, the key in her teeth--\n So close.\n\n Harry maneuvers the cockpit directly under Dana.\n\n HARRY\n (shouting)\n Let go baby! I've"," (not listening)\n Okay. Here she comes.\n\n\n 103 EXT. STREET - DAY\n\n HARRY'S POV THROUGH BINOCULARS - We see Dana come out to the\n curb and meet Trent, who pulls up on his bike. She gets on\n behind him, adjusts her walkman headphones over her ears and he\n launches out into traffic.\n\n\n 104 INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY\n","ana. *\n\n HARRY *\n My Dana!?\n\n GIB\n They must have grabbed her during\n the night... we didn't know.\n Sorry, Harry, I--\n\n\n 298 EXT. HARRIER - DAY\n\n But Harry is already moving. He sprints toward the nearest\n Harrier, witch is idling nearby. Gib runs after him.\n\n GIB\n Harry! We'"],["immediately and forever,\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\n one major US city each week until\n these demands are met...\n\n BACK TO VIEWFINDER IMAGE. BATTERY warning flashing faster.\n\n MALIK\n ... First one weapon will be\n detonated on this uninhabited\n island as a demonstration of\n Crimson Jihad's power and our\n willingness to be humanitarian.\n However, if there demands are","\n Crimson Jihad's power and our\n willingness to be humanitarian.\n However, if there demands are not--\n\n In a burst of static the image GOES BLACK.\n\n The cameraman nervously lowers the camera, ashen faced.\n Malik's eyes are black with murder.\n\n CAMERAMAN\n Battery, Abu.\n\n MALIK\n Get another one, you moron!\n\n\n 245 INT. BUILDING"," Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\n over the inside of the metal building.\n\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside","sweating, wondering if he\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\n\n MALIK\n -- But now the Oppressed have *\n been given a mighty sword, to *\n strike back at their enemies. *\n Unless the US pulls all military\n forces out of the Persian Gulf\n area, immediately and forever,\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\n one major US city each week until\n these demands are","ERAMAN\n Tape is rolling.\n\n MALIK\n This is a communique from Crimson\n Jihad. You have heard from your\n own expert. You have seen the\n Holy fire with your own eyes. Do\n not force us to destroy this\n city. And do not try to use\n force against us. I can trigger\n this bomb instantly. All I have\n to do is turn that key...\n (he points fiercely","Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\n men, clearly CRIMSON JIHAD TERRORISTS are busy at various\n activities. Many of them carry AK47 assault rifles.\n\n MALIK is supervizing them as they finish unloading a tarp-\n covered object about 15 feet high from the ship. A rusting\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\n an AERO","*\n Now he's formed his own splinter\n faction called CRIMSON JIHAD.\n\n GIB *\n Guess he thought the other\n terrorist groups were too warm\n and fuzzy for his taste.\n\n FAISIL\n They call him \"The Sand Spider\". *\n\n TRILBY\n Why?\n\n FAISIL\n (he shrugs)\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\n"," It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\n but she is fairly composed now.\n\n DANA\n I have to go to the bathroom.\n\n The terrorists ignore her. A terrified ACTION NEWS REPORTER\n and his CAMERAMAN, under guard by TWO TERRORISTS, are hastily\n setting up to shoot Malik.\n CAMERAMAN\n Tape is rolling.\n\n MALIK\n This is a communique from Crimson\n ","side to side. The Crimson Jihad is\n vaporized.\n\n\n 309 EXT. ROOF - CRANE BOOM - DAY\n\n Malik hears the thunder of the jet and the firing, but from\n where he is he can't see what's going on. He focuses on the\n key. He must have that key.\n\n\n 310 EXT. ROOF - NEAR HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n Malik's TWO REMAINING MEN","Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\n and look toward the window.\n\n\n 307 EXT. HIGH RISE - DAY\n\n RISING INTO VIEW, LIKE A GARGOYLE FROM HELL, IS THE HARRIER.\n It fills the windows completely, hovering only a few feet\n outside. The terrorists raise their AK-47s to fire just as\n Harry hits the 20mm nose-cannon.\n\n\n 308","you have been\n brought here?\n\n HELEN\n N-no.\n\n MALIK\n So that this man can verify to\n the world that Crimson Jihad is\n now a nuclear power.\n\n HELEN\n How can Harry do that? He's a\n salesman for chrissakes.\n\n MALIK\n If we were wrong about him...\n then the last thing you see will\n be your blood spraying","their AK-47s to fire just as\n Harry hits the 20mm nose-cannon.\n\n\n 308 INT. / EXT. HIGH RISE - 20TH FLOOR - DAY\n\n Glass explodes into glittering mist, and terrorists explodes\n into bloody spray as Harry pivots the plane and the cannon\n sweeps the floor clear from side to side. The Crimson Jihad is\n vaporized.\n\n\n 309 EXT. ROOF -","they\n have the arming box and all *\n equipment necessary to detonate\n the four warheads. This is\n absolutely the real thing,\n gentlemen.\n\n The camera swings off Harry to Malik, standing before the rest\n of the Jihad warriors, who are assembled behind the four bombs.\n\n MALIK\n You have killed our women and *\n children, bombed our cities from\n afar like cowards, and dare to\n call","her. He knows\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\n game which will end when she reaches the end of the boom. Dana\n puts the key between her teeth so she can hang on better. It\n is windy and the boom is swinging.\n\n\n 306 INT. 20TH FLOOR - DAY\n\n The Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\n and look toward the window.\n\n\n 307 ","GIB\n (reading from a file)\n Hardcore, highly fanatical, ultra- *\n fundamentalist. Linked to *\n numerous car-bombings, that cafe *\n bomb in Rome, and the 727 out of\n Lisbon last year. Major player. *\n\n FAISIL *\n Now he's formed his own splinter\n faction called CRIMSON JIHAD.\n\n ","ISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\n winding mountain road a half-mile from the chateau, whose\n lights are visible through the trees.\n\n Faisil jumps in and goes to the eyepiece of a huge telephoto\n nightvision scope. The eerie green image lurches as he sweeps\n the grounds, locating the boathouse.\n\n\n 6 EXT. BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Conce","again.\n\n HARRY\n Now no man can stop us. We are\n set on our course. No force can\n stop us...\n (as libbing)\n ... we're cool, we're badass,\n blah blah.\n\n\n 255 INT. WAREHOUSE - DOWN BELOW - NIGHT\n\n Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing","0 EXT. ROOF - NEAR HELICOPTER - DAY\n\n Malik's TWO REMAINING MEN run to the helicopter, gesticulating\n to the pilot to get ready to take off. The pilot revs the\n turbine and the rotor whirls faster. The two men jump in,\n picking up M-60 machine guns.\n\n\n 311 EXT. ROOF - CRANE BOOM - DAY\n\n MALIK IS STILL ADVANCING out","our women and *\n children, bombed our cities from\n afar like cowards, and dare to\n call us terrorists--\n\n Over the image of Malik, a LOW-BATTERY warning begins to flash.\n\n CUT TO SCENE, as Malik speaks into the camera, which is head by\n one of his men. The CAMERAMAN is sweating, wondering if he\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\n\n MALI","'ve set 'em up on\n all of Juno's shipping agents,\n her clients, and Faisil made up *\n a list of possible contacts that\n Crimson Jihad might have in this\n country. Now all we can do is *\n wait -- *\n\n He notices Harry is not listening.\n\n GIB\n Is this national security stuff\n boring you?\n\n HARRY\n Put a tap on her phone"],[" Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\n over the inside of the metal building.\n\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside","the object they just unloaded,\n revealing a FOURTH STATUE. The figures are cracked and\n obscured by centuries, but they are unmistakably warriors\n mounted on horseback. The legs and arms are missing on some,\n but the massive heads and necks remain.\n\n JUNO\n Incredible, aren't they? Warrior\n figures from the Persian Empire\n of Darius the First, around 500\n BC. I call them \"The Four\n Horsemen"," (seeing the\n possibilities)\n His wife? Good. Bring them.\n\n\n 242 INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Malik leads the entourage into the warehouse, where brilliant\n floodlights illuminate--\n\n THREE HUGE STONE FIGURES, lined up in the middle of the space.\n The tarp is removes from the object they just unloaded,\n revealing a FOURTH STATUE. The figures are cracked and\n obscured by centuries, but they","Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\n men, clearly CRIMSON JIHAD TERRORISTS are busy at various\n activities. Many of them carry AK47 assault rifles.\n\n MALIK is supervizing them as they finish unloading a tarp-\n covered object about 15 feet high from the ship. A rusting\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\n an AERO"," HARRY\n Let's go.\n 250\n thru OMITTED *\n 253\n\n 254 INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n LOOKING DOWN FROM A CATWALK on the activity below the four\n horsemen statues and several utility trucks almost fill the\n floorspace. A rental truck is being loaded with conventional\n weapons, including machine guns and several HAND-LAUNCHED\n STINGER MISSILES. ","they\n have the arming box and all *\n equipment necessary to detonate\n the four warheads. This is\n absolutely the real thing,\n gentlemen.\n\n The camera swings off Harry to Malik, standing before the rest\n of the Jihad warriors, who are assembled behind the four bombs.\n\n MALIK\n You have killed our women and *\n children, bombed our cities from\n afar like cowards, and dare to\n call","the ship. A rusting\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\n an AEROSPATIALE HELICOPTER thunders toward them over the black\n Caribbean water.\n\n The helicopter lands and Juno steps down from the front door.\n The sliding door is opened and Akbar and the others pull a\n groggy Harry and Helen out of the aircraft. They are covered\n by hoods.\n\n Malik walks up to them and pulls their hoods off. Harry takes","\n you're the one to see.\n\n Juno leads Harry through a door into a large warehouse area.\n There is a bustle of activity as workmen unpack crates. An\n overhead crane is used to move huge stone pieces. There are\n massive columns, and statues two stories high. Even the entire\n facade of a tomb.\n\n JUNO\n So what did these... people...\n say about me exactly?\n\n They stroll amongst the statues, as coveralled workmen move","is being loaded with conventional\n weapons, including machine guns and several HAND-LAUNCHED\n STINGER MISSILES. One of the nukes has been lowered into a pit\n cut in the concrete floor. Malik and most of the terrorists\n are gathered around it.\n\n A GUARD, F.G. on the catwalk, watches intently from the\n railing. So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC"," activities. Something big is *\n going down --\n\n FAISIL *\n And we know that a week ago four *\n MIRV warheads were smuggled out *\n of the former Soviet Republic of *\n Kazakhstan . . .\n\n HARRY *\n We think Khaled's group has *\n bought the nukes and is bringing *\n them to U.S","So what did these... people...\n say about me exactly?\n\n They stroll amongst the statues, as coveralled workmen move\n around them with tools, scaffolding, pneumatic equipment. Most\n of the workers are middle-eastern.\n\n HARRY\n Let's see... that you can read\n ancient Sanskrit without having\n to sound out the words. And that\n other dealers and archeologists\n don't like you much.\n\n JUN",".5 kilos of\n enriched uranium, with a\n plutonium trigger. The nominal\n yield is 10 kilotons.\n (in Arabic, subtitled) *\n Release her and I'll cooperate.\n\n Malik lowers the knife from her jaw. He turns away from her\n like she has ceased to exist and yells at the terrorists to\n remove the other weapons. Jackhammers tear into the stone\n figures.\n\n Helen","half-crumbling pier. Next to\n the pier is a dilapidated corrugated-metal warehouse building,\n two stories high. There are floodlights on the dock but beyond\n is black night, with the ghostly shapes of mangroves and palms.\n It is an abandoned facility on what appears to be a tiny island\n in the Caribbean.\n\n There is a lot of activity. Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\n men, clearly C","jackhammer. He blasts\n right into the body of one of the Horseman, destroying it.\n Stone fragments fall away, revealing a cavity cut with great\n precision inside the figure.\n\n Inside is a BRIGHT METAL CONTAINER. Four terrorists pull it\n out and set it on the ground. It is six feet long and coffin-\n like. Malik steps up to it, his eyes glistening. A hush has\n fallen over the group.\n\n MALIK\n ","ISE - ON THE 21ST FLOOR - DAY\n\n Malik is sequestered with the bomb. It sits on the floor,\n still in its shipping case. Dana stands nearby, looking\n scares. She is not ties up. Where can she go?\n\n She watches Malik go to the warhead and insert his arming key.\n He has a TV set up on some crates, and we see that his video-\n tapes demands are running on CNN. Harry's face fills the\n screen","exist and yells at the terrorists to\n remove the other weapons. Jackhammers tear into the stone\n figures.\n\n Helen is just staring at Harry, her mouth open. He turns to\n her, not knowing what to say. He shrugs sheepishly.\n\n HARRY\n What can I say? I'm a spy.\n\n She just looks at him for a long time. She moves closer,\n staring and staring, letting it sink in. Then she hauls off\n and slugs him","MALIK\n If we were wrong about him...\n then the last thing you see will\n be your blood spraying in his\n face.\n\n Harry steps forward, his face grim.\n\n HARRY\n This is a Soviet MIRV-Six, from\n an SS-22N launch vehicle. The\n warhead contains 14.5 kilos of\n enriched uranium, with a\n plutonium trigger. The nominal\n ","to it, his eyes glistening. A hush has\n fallen over the group.\n\n MALIK\n Open it.\n\n The latches are released and the lid lifted. Inside is\n machined metal object, roughly conical, about five feet long.\n Malik signals to Harry to step closer and look.\n\n MALIK\n Do you know what this is?\n\n HARRY\n Can you give me a clue? It could\n be a water heater for","\n Juno nods and the hostess zaps Harry. He slides into\n unconsciousness as the plane engines begin to SCREAM.\n\n\n 240 EXT. AIRPORT - NIGHT\n\n The G-3 lifts into the night sky, turning south.\n\n\n 241 EXT. PIER - NIGHT\n\n A small FREIGHTER is tied up to a half-crumbling pier. Next to\n the pier is a dilapidated corrugated-metal warehouse building,\n two stories","real.\n\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\n chain from around his neck and holds up a METAL ARMING KEY.\n Then jumps down into the pit and inserts it into the warhead's\n arming computer. Harry is listening intently, translating for\n Helen.\n\n HARRY\n In ninety minutes a pillar of *\n holy fire will rise at this place *\n as a sign to out enemies. *"],["HELEN\n It's okay, don't bother, Harry.\n\n He goes to her and puts his arms around her. He is tender with\n her. He wishes he can tell her the truth.\n\n HARRY\n I'm sorry. Thank you for the\n party.\n\n HELEN\n Yeah. It was great.\n\n Helen finds a smile for him somewhere. She really does love\n him, though more and more often lately she finds her heart in\n pain","INT. MAIN HALL - NIGHT\n\n Harry whirls Juno aggressively across the dancefloor. She\n responds deftly. They are well matched. She parries each of\n his smooth moves with a flourish. It is a contest of wills,\n and a surprised appraisal for each that the other is worthy.\n Juno is hot. He bends her back at the waist, then snaps her\n up. She twirls into the crook of his arm. Their faces are\n inches apart","mly, signalling\n Harry with her eyes)\n Go ahead.\n\n\n 325 INT. EMBASSY PARTY - NIGHT\n\n It is a black tie affair. Very glitzy. CAMERA SWOOPS over the\n guests, sipping champagne and dancing. It is an embassy crowd,\n very international. HARRY AND HELEN work their way through the\n crowd. He is in tux, hair slicked back, looking rakish. She\n","clothes on the bed near the phone. Helen is\n still concentrating on her mission.\n\n HARRY (TAPE)\n Now turn, cheri, in the\n moonlight. Let your body flow\n like water.\n\n She turns. Her skin is beautiful in the silvery light.\n\n HARRY (TAPE)\n Now dance for me. Go on.\n\n Helen has no idea what to do, but she improvises quite well.\n The scrutiny of the shadow"," Helen. She is wearing a terrycloth robe as she picks out an\n outfit. Her hair is wrapped in a towel. To call her plain\n would be inaccurate. She could be attractive if she put any\n effort into it, which doesn't occur to her.\n\n HARRY\n I'm late.\n\n HELEN\n Me too.\n\n They talk without looking at each other, the way people who\n have been together a long time do.\n\n HEL","slowly.\n\n Helen is starting to get into the ritual. She lets the dress *\n slip off her shoulders. It slides down her body to the floor. *\n She steps out of it, still in high heels. *\n\n HARRY (TAPE)\n Now slide the nylons off one by\n one.\n\n HELEN\n (puzzled)\n I'm not wearing any.\n\n Harry winces. He starts the next line immediately.\n\n ","\n Yes, that's it.\n\n TIGHT ON Harry's eyes as he studies her. His game, meant to\n give her a dangerous fantasy, is actually turning him on\n mightily. He is amazed to see her playing the role, getting\n into it. This is not the Helen is thought he knew for sixteen\n years.\n\n HARRY (TAPE)\n Now, lie on the bed and close\n your eyes.\n\n She does. Harry rises and goes to her, bringing",". Go on.\n\n Helen has no idea what to do, but she improvises quite well.\n The scrutiny of the shadowed man, who is fully clothed, and her\n raw vulnerability are a quiveringly powerful erotic\n combination.\n\n HARRY (TAPE)\n Let your hands be a lover's hands\n on your own skin as you move.\n Yes, that's it.\n\n TIGHT ON Harry's eyes as he studies her. His game, meant to\n","HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\n of the party and owner of the chateau. He is fat and animated,\n greeting guests with a flourish. As Harry watches he warmly *\n greets a beautiful WOMAN. They become absorbed in a *\n conversation.\n\n The woman glances up and sees Harry checking her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n","Y\n (faintly)\n Uh huh.\n\n HELEN\n My husband the hero.\n\n Red lipstick. Then she puts a little perfume on her wrists.\n\n HELEN\n I'll be right there, honey. Just\n a minute.\n\n Harry doesn't answer. Helen puts a little perfume down the\n front of her panties.\n\n HELEN\n Just a second.\n\n Helen quickly pours two glasses",". Helen is avoiding Harry's eyes.\n Harry looks over at Dana and she gives him a tiny smile. Then\n she rises from her half-finished dinner and heads out of the\n kitchen.\n\n DANA\n I'm done.\n\n HELEN\n Where are you off to young lady?\n\n DANA\n (pointing toward her\n room)\n I have a book report.\n\n Helen watches her go. That's strange.\n\n ","\n room)\n I have a book report.\n\n Helen watches her go. That's strange.\n\n HARRY\n So last night was pretty\n exciting, huh?\n\n HELEN\n (alarmed)\n What?\n (then smoothly--)\n Oh, the flat tire? Yeah, I\n thought the damn towtruck was\n never going to get there.\n\n Harry smiles, reaching for more chicken. The phone RINGS.\n"," Helen finds a smile for him somewhere. She really does love\n him, though more and more often lately she finds her heart in\n pain.\n\n HELEN\n Let's go to bed, Harry. There's\n only one present you have to open\n tonight.\n\n She grins and arches one eyebrow meaningfully.\n\n\n 101 INT. BEDROOM / BATHROOM - NIGHT\n\n Helen walks Harry to the edge of the bed and sits him down.\n She"," Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\n\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\n is captivatingly beautiful","\n brush your teeth.\n\n HELEN\n I'll just be a second. So what\n happened tonight at the office?\n\n HARRY\n I couldn't believe it. I go back\n to get this report I need, right,\n and the phone is ringing, so like\n a bonehead I answer it--\n\n Helen is hurrying to put on the unfamiliar lingerie. G-string\n panties and low-cut bra. She holds up","the bed, fully clothed, snoring softly.\n A little bit of drool is coming out the side of his mouth.\n\n HOLD ON HELEN, all dressed up with no place to go. She gazes\n down at him, her shoulders slumping.\n\n HELEN\n Happy Birthday, Harry.\n\n She sighs deeply and downs her champagne in one long gulp.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n\n 102 EXT. STREET/ NEAR HIGH",".\n\n HARRY\n (In Arabic/ subtitled)\n Where's the john around here? I\n have to take a major leak.\n\n The guard points warily down the corridor. Harry nods and\n heads that way, back toward the party.\n\n\n 16 INT. MAIN HALL/ STAIRCASE - NIGHT\n\n Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n"," HELEN\n I wasn't cheating!\n\n HARRY\n Tell me about your husband, Mrs\n Tasker.\n\n HELEN\n Harry? What can I say about\n Harry? He's a sales rep for a\n computer company.\n\n HARRY\n (hard question for him)\n Would you say he was boring,\n then?\n\n HELEN\n (she sighs, nodding\n ","lying to him with some amazement. You can\n see the jaw muscles clenching.\n\n HARRY\n So, a little excitement in an\n otherwise dull day. Did is work\n out okay?\n\n HELEN\n Oh, sure. Fine.\n (she gets up suddenly)\n I'll get some more gravy.\n\n DANA\n I'm done.\n\n Dana bolts. She has eaten about four bites. Harry","the waist, then snaps her\n up. She twirls into the crook of his arm. Their faces are\n inches apart. Wow. The music ends and she gives him a wry\n grin.\n\n JUNO\n Well. And I thought this was\n going to be just another bunch of\n boring bankers and oil\n billionaires.\n\n GIB (OVER)\n Harry, seconds count, buddy.\n Ditch the bitch, let's go.\n\n"],[" (to Harry)\n So now it's Tasker? Not\n Renquist?\n\n\n 239 INT. G-3 JET - NIGHT\n\n They enter the luxurious passenger cabin of the plane. Helen\n has never seen anything like this.\n\n HELEN\n Look, Harry's not part of this.\n He's just a sales rep.\n\n JUNO\n No, my dear, he is a federal\n agent. He killed two of","She rolls toward him, giving him a sleepy hug\n and a kiss.\n\n HELEN\n (a drowsy murmur)\n Hi, honey. How was the flight?\n\n HARRY\n Fine, honey. Stay asleep.\n\n HELEN\n Okay.\n\n As she drifts off, Harry puts his head on the pillow and stares\n at the ceiling.\n\n DISSOLVE TO:\n\n\n 37 INT. TASKER","some crates, and we see that his video-\n tapes demands are running on CNN. Harry's face fills the\n screen, verifying the the nuclear weapons as a real threat. He\n is identified at the bottom of the screen as HARRY TASKER,\n ATOMIC ENERGY COMMISSION. Dana stares at her father's face on\n the national news. It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\n but she is fairly composed now.\n\n DANA\n ","mouth and turns slowly, scanning... revealing:\n\n HARRY TASKER. Our hero. Harry floats with just his eyes above\n the surface, silent as a water snake, as a guard passes on a\n footpath nearby.\n\n After a few beats Harry slips out of his tanks and fins,\n letting them sink, and climbs the frozen ladder onto the dock.\n He moves like a ninja into the shadows of the boathouse.\n Opening a WATERPROOF BAG, he pulls out a walky"," 210 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - NIGHT\n\n INSIDE THE OBSERVATION ROOM Harry states at her. He smiles.\n\n GIB\n Now what?\n\n HARRY\n (leaning forward to the\n mike)\n There is only one solution to\n your problem, Mrs. Tasker. You\n must work for us.\n\n GIB\n (whispering to Harry)\n Oh shit."," What a team. See you at eight.\n\n GIB\n Yep. Sleep fast.\n\n\n 35 INT. TASKER HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Harry slips inside. He sets down his suitcase and walks\n quietly down the hall. He pauses at a door with lurid labels\n and stickers plastered all over it (Toxic Waste, STAY OUT!, IF\n IT'S TOO LOUD YOU'RE TOO OLD, etc.)\n\n Harry silently","\n\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cubicles.\n There is a hushed quality here. People do not joke. They do\n not hurry. There are a lot of computer screens displaying\n information from around the world. It looks like a combination\n of NASA mission control and FBI headquarters.\n\n Fast Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\n cubicle.\n\n HARRY\n ",".\n\n Harry and Gib step up to the combination retinal-thumbprint-\n voice scanners. Harry presses his thumb against a black-glass\n plate for laser scan, and looks into the eye-piece of the\n retinal scanner.\n\n HARRY\n Harry Tasker. One zero zero two\n four.\n\n GIB\n Albert Gibson. Three four nine\n nine one.\n\n Their clearance appears on a monitor on Janice's desk.\n\n J","4 INT. TEKTEL OFFICES - DAY *\n\n Harry and Gib come out of an elevator on the 12th floor. *\n Behind the receptionist is a burnished metal sign which reads *\n TEKTEL SYSTEMS. They cross a open floor of cubicle spaces. *\n There is the hum of activity everywhere. A normal day at a *\n normal business. *\n\n SECRETARY *\n Morning, Mr. Tasker. "," See.\n\n\n 71 INT./EXT. GIB'S CAR - NIGHT\n\n Harry is changing clothes, getting ready to be Harry Tasker *\n again, as Gib drives through evening traffic. Gib keeps\n checking the rearview.\n\n GIB\n We have a friend. Five cars\n back, inside lane. They've been *\n on us since we left Juno's. *\n\n Harry adjusts the passenger side mirror.\n\n HARR","\n Tasker, so I suggest you\n cooperate. If we want to know\n the most intimate details of your\n life, you'd better tell us.\n\n Helen glowers at the mirror. Her hands are shaking and she\n hates it that they can probably see she is afraid.\n\n HELEN\n My husband is a good man.\n\n GIB\n But he's not exactly ringing your\n bell lately, right? I mean--\n\n Harry covers the m","the ice above.\n\n\n 4 EXT. CANAL AND BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n A dock extends into the frozen canal, just behind a large\n boathouse. There is a faint chipping sound. The ice breaks\n quietly, and the pieces are slid back. A head appears, in a\n rubber drysuit hood. The DIVER slips the regulator out of his\n mouth and turns slowly, scanning... revealing:\n\n HARRY TASKER. Our hero. Harry floats with just","-- BEEP\n BEEP BEEP!! Harry pulls his beeper off his hip and looks at\n it. The moment is spoiled.\n\n HARRY\n Uh, it looks like I have to run.\n I'll call you tomorrow. Your\n proposal is very interesting.\n\n\n 69 INT. GIB'S CAR - NIGHT\n\n Gib lets out a big exhale of relief. He looks at his watch.\n\n\n 70 INT. TASKER","ON HARRY, running. Ahead is a MOUNTED COP. Harry doesn't\n break stride, heading right for the cop on the horse. The cop\n turns, surprised, a split second before-- Harry pulls him off\n the horse and slams him to the ground (he's wearing a helmet).\n\n HARRY\n Federal Officer in pursuit of\n suspect! Sorry.\n\n Harry is in the saddle and galloping after Malik before the cop\n can get his gut out of the holster to stop","Where?\n\n SIMON\n The same place. One o'clock. I\n have to go now. See you\n tomorrow. Remember, I need you.\n\n\n 123 INT. LISTENING ROOM - DAY\n\n The last line is played ON HARRY, reading. Now he is seeing\n the proof in black and white. He slowly crumples the paper in\n one hand, his expression dark.\n\n\n 124 INT. TASKER HO","behind\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\n vicious street-fighter moves. Harry looks upslope as--\n\n A service gate opens in the perimeter wall and TEAMS OF\n SECURITY MEN in white snow-suits pour out, some on skis, some\n on SNOWMOBILES. A HELICOPTER rises over the wall in a blast of\n swirling snow. Its xenon lights rake through the trees,\n casting lur"," Mission accomplished,\n motherfuckers.\n\n Harry grabs her ankle. She raises one shoe to kosh him again,\n and sees who it is. Freezeframe. Total shock. She can't even\n form the question.\n\n HELEN\n Harry-- ?!\n\n\n 234 INT. SUITE DOOR - NIGHT\n\n CRASH!! The door lock is shattered by tremendous force and\n THREE MEN burst into the room. We may recognize them as","What the hell were you thinking?\n We had the guy and you let him\n get away.\n\n He looks into the horse's innocent brown eyes. Pats its neck\n fondly.\n\n HARRY\n What kind of cop are you?\n\n\n 100 INT. TASKER HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Helen is asleep at the dining room table next to a half-eaten\n cake and some melted ice cream. His unopened presents are\n piled at one end of"," DANA\n I'm done.\n\n Dana bolts. She has eaten about four bites. Harry sits at the\n table, alone. He feels isolated, knowing that everybody is\n lying to everybody else. He is a man without a center, lost.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n\n 120 INT. OMEGA SECTOR/ LISTENING ROOM - DAY\n\n TRACKING ALONG THE BANK OF RECORDERS. Harry comes to a\n particular","\n\n Harry leaps a park bench like he's in a steeple chase.\n\n HARRY (CONT'D)\n I want you on 14th in case he\n turns south. And I need Seven on\n the north side to box him in.\n\n\n 90 INT. /EXT. GIB'S CAR - NIGHT\n\n Gib is weaving furiously through traffic. He slides into a\n turn.\n\n GIB\n Copy that.\n\n H"],["new model ordering system,\n the one for the 680... how you\n can write up an order and the\n second the customer's name goes\n into the computer, it starts\n checking their credit, and if\n they've ordered anything in the\n past, and if they get a\n discount...\n\n She is already tuning him out. And it hits us: SHE HAS NO\n IDEA WHAT HARRY REALLY DOES.\n\n HEL","itaries, businessman and minor mid-\n east nobility. They are a high-octane mixture of new oil money\n and old European money, and run the spectrum from stodgy\n bankers to playboy arms dealers.\n\n Harry strolls amiably among the glittering woman, the cigar\n smoking men, casually snagging a glass of champagne and a\n canape from the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People","hits us: SHE HAS NO\n IDEA WHAT HARRY REALLY DOES.\n\n HELEN\n (barely listening)\n That's fabulous Harry.\n\n HARRY\n Yeah, it was wild.\n\n Harry glances at her, oblivious to him and brushing her teeth.\n He smiles. The best lies are told with enthusiasm.\n\n\n 39 INT. FRONT HALLWAY, LIVING ROOM - DAY\n\n ","So what did these... people...\n say about me exactly?\n\n They stroll amongst the statues, as coveralled workmen move\n around them with tools, scaffolding, pneumatic equipment. Most\n of the workers are middle-eastern.\n\n HARRY\n Let's see... that you can read\n ancient Sanskrit without having\n to sound out the words. And that\n other dealers and archeologists\n don't like you much.\n\n JUN",". I know Harry.\n\n Helen hangs up the phone just as Dana strides through the room,\n putting on a jacket and heading for the front door.\n\n HELEN\n Where are you going?\n\n DANA\n Out. If Dad doesn't care enough\n about us to be here on his\n birthday, then why should I care?\n I'm going to a movie.\n\n HELEN\n No you're not. You're going to\n","Harry is open and encouraging... they\n laugh together... then when he looks away Harry goes snake-\n eyed. He could kill Simon with one punch. He's visualizing\n his wife getting porked by this guy.\n\n HARRY\n But with you, she gets to be hot,\n right?\n\n SIMON\n Red hot. Her thighs steam.\n\n They laugh together. Harry's laugh is getting a bit brittle.\n He speeds up, his knuckles",". Her heart stops.\n\n DANA\n Oh my Gooooood.\n\n\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\n\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\n\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\n front of her friends.\n\n HARRY\n There are going to be some","toward the back of the warehouse and then leaves. Harry is\n left alone in the vast space.\n\n Only a few lights are on, rendering the place somewhat Gothic.\n Harry strolls in the direction the workman pointed. Ahead of\n him, is the huge facade of a royal tomb. There is a flickering\n light inside. A shadow moves across the wall in the entryway.\n\n HARRY\n Hello?\n\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARR"," Harry's eyes are slitted down lethally as he stares across the\n street.\n\n\n 159 INT. CAR LOT SALES OFFICE - DAY (LATE AFTERNOON) *\n\n TIGHT ON A TAPE PLAYER, with Simon's hand adjusting the volume.\n The sound of traffic noise and middle-eastern music blares from\n the deck.\n\n PULL BACK to see Simon on the phone, talking loud, as if over\n the din of a real place.","her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n\n\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\n\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\n\n\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\n\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\n cross","rier pilots stand nearby, watching the\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\n finger pressed in his ear, listening to his headset. He waves\n to Harry to come to him.\n\n Harry detaches from Helen and walks over to him. Helen watches\n him go... back to work. She glances over at the two Harrier\n pilots.\n\n HELEN\n (to the pilots)\n That's my husband.\n\n HARRY goes into the hudd","has just\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\n\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry"," Why?\n\n FAISIL\n (he shrugs)\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\n\n TRILBY\n This is impressive, gentlemen.\n Of course, it would have been\n even more impressive if you\n actually knew where he was.\n\n HARRY\n We'll get him.\n\n TRILBY\n Yes. You will.\n (meaning-- you damn\n well better)\n Harry,","\n\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cubicles.\n There is a hushed quality here. People do not joke. They do\n not hurry. There are a lot of computer screens displaying\n information from around the world. It looks like a combination\n of NASA mission control and FBI headquarters.\n\n Fast Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\n cubicle.\n\n HARRY\n ","and\n wrong.\n\n Dana studies something really fascinating at the end of a\n fingernail.\n\n HARRY\n Dana, are you listening to me?\n\n DANA\n Yeah, Dad.\n\n HARRY\n You know you can always talk to\n me. Right? Whatever is going on\n in your life, your mom and I'll\n understand.\n\n DANA\n Okay, Dad.\n\n H"," Trade secret.\n\n HARRY\n (grinning)\n Sure. Set me up and then don't\n tell me.\n\n Simon leans forward, conspiratorially.\n\n SIMON\n Okay, just ask yourself. What do\n women really want? You take\n these bored housewives, married\n to the same guy for years. Stuck\n in a rut. They need some\n release. The promise of\n ","\n fantasy daughter, he thinks\n everything's fine. But it's not\n fine. Nothing's fine.\n\n Dana runs out the kitchen by the other door. Helen runs\n after her.\n\n HELEN\n Dana! Come back here!\n\n The slamming door is her answer.\n\n\n 80 EXT. MALL - MEN'S ROOM - NIGHT\n\n Yusif sees Harry, up ahead, enter a public restroom. He\n","thought\n you might like to have lunch.\n\n HELEN\n They must've just missed me.\n\n HARRY\n They said you had to run out.\n\n HELEN\n Yeah. It was a rush thing. They\n needed some documents down at the\n court house. I barely made it.\n\n Harry watches her lying to him with some amazement. You can\n see the jaw muscles clenching.\n\n HARRY\n ","looks\n ultrasharp in his black tux with the white silk cummerbund and\n his hair slicked back. He enters the main house through a back\n service entrance.\n\n\n 7 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT\n \n Harry strides through the huge kitchen like he owns the place.\n The kitchen staff are scurrying around, too busy to really\n notice. He finger-tastes a dish as he passes.\n\n HARRY\n (French/ subtitled)\n"," microphone, belting out a punchy cover of the old Cream classic\n \"Sunshine of Your Love\". The guitar parts have been industrial-\n ized, and it actually sounds pretty hip.\n\n Harry watches from the shadows, standing behind a pillar not\n far from the stage. Watching his daughter gyrating in the\n spotlight. His reaction is hard to read.\n\n\n 219 INT. WAREHOUSE - CLOSE UP OF CIRCUIT-BREAKER - DAY\n\n TIGHT ON"],["has just\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\n\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry","TWO DOBERMANS pelt toward Harry, leaping at him in perfect\n unison. He waits... and knocks their heads together in mid-\n leap with a crack like a baseball bat. The dogs drop to the\n snow, wobbling around like they're drunk.\n\n As Harry sprints on, ANOTHER DOBERMAN lunges out of the bushes\n ahead, leaping directly for his throat. Harry grabs the dog\n and shot-puts him up into a tree without breaking stride. Dog\n ","and seizes him in a two-\n hand neck-breaker-- SNAP.\n\n Two more run around the corner of a building. Harry stomps his *\n foot down on one of the AKs, which is lying across a log. It *\n flips into the air and he catches it in firing position . . *\n . and takes them out with two well-aimed bursts. Helen comes *\n out of the shadows staring at Harry in amazement. His shirt is\n ripped, he is scrat","aping directly for his throat. Harry grabs the dog\n and shot-puts him up into a tree without breaking stride. Dog\n Fu. The dog yelps and scrambles to hold onto an icy branch,\n looking down in amazement.\n\n\n 27 EXT. PERIMETER WALL/ MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT\n\n Harry leaps down on the outside of the wall, hitting a snow\n bank and sliding downhill. He sprints down the gentle slope\n toward the highway.\n\n ","Harry is open and encouraging... they\n laugh together... then when he looks away Harry goes snake-\n eyed. He could kill Simon with one punch. He's visualizing\n his wife getting porked by this guy.\n\n HARRY\n But with you, she gets to be hot,\n right?\n\n SIMON\n Red hot. Her thighs steam.\n\n They laugh together. Harry's laugh is getting a bit brittle.\n He speeds up, his knuckles","sees the chopper start an attack run. He comes out into\n the open, going straight downhill like a rocket. The chopper\n gets suckered in... trying to hit him, getting right down\n behind him... and suddenly-- Harry slides to a stop in an\n explosion of powder and whips up the rifle. P-P-P-POW! He\n rakes a burst across the windshield. The startled pilot\n swerves and-- Suddenly two tall pine trees are right in front\n of him.\n\n K","of the wall, hitting a snow\n bank and sliding downhill. He sprints down the gentle slope\n toward the highway.\n\n Harry looks back as TWO GUARDS ON SKIS come out of a guard\n station beside the main entrance.\n\n TRACKING WITH THE SKI-GUARDS, searching through the trees with\n lights. They have lost Harry. They stop. A snowbank behind\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\n vicious street-fighter moves","Giving Harry the\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\n\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\n\n HARRY\n Don't move.\n\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\n between her thigh","looking around wildly for a way\n out. Harry charges in, ducking to avoid the chandelier.\n Waiters, trays, dinners, tables... everything seems to be\n flying at once as people dive out of the way.\n\n\n 95 INT. HOTEL - MAIN HALL - NIGHT\n\n MALIK skids out into the main hall by another door, and sees--\n the ELEVATORS. The door is just closing on one of them. He\n guns it and slides through the doors","car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry. There eyes meet for a moment, just before Malik's\n car ascends rapidly. Malik's malevolent glare is etched on\n Harry's retinas.\n\n The older couple is jammed against the side-wall by Harry's\n panting, snorting horse. It clomps around the tight elevator.\n The woman is trying to crawl between her husband and the","the bushes and out onto the street.\n Cars skid around him, out of control. He turns south. Weaving\n through traffic. Harry leaps the hedgerow behind Malik and\n gallops among the spun-out cars. He goes right over the hood\n on one which is blocking his path. The driver ducks as the\n horse's hoof cracks the windshield.\n\n\n 92 EXT. STREET/ HYATT REGENCY HOTEL - NIGHT\n\n Up ahead traffic is stopped","toward the back of the warehouse and then leaves. Harry is\n left alone in the vast space.\n\n Only a few lights are on, rendering the place somewhat Gothic.\n Harry strolls in the direction the workman pointed. Ahead of\n him, is the huge facade of a royal tomb. There is a flickering\n light inside. A shadow moves across the wall in the entryway.\n\n HARRY\n Hello?\n\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARR","behind\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\n vicious street-fighter moves. Harry looks upslope as--\n\n A service gate opens in the perimeter wall and TEAMS OF\n SECURITY MEN in white snow-suits pour out, some on skis, some\n on SNOWMOBILES. A HELICOPTER rises over the wall in a blast of\n swirling snow. Its xenon lights rake through the trees,\n casting lur",". He gathers\n the animal and LEAPS (in glorious SLOW MOTION) over the\n bassist, who is diving for the carpet. Harry and horse land\n deftly and then he urges his mount right up the steps after\n Malik.\n\n\n 94 INT. HOTEL RESTAURANT - NIGHT\n\n Malik roars between the tables, looking around wildly for a way\n out. Harry charges in, ducking to avoid the chandelier.\n Waiters, tr","her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n\n\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\n\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\n\n\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\n\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\n cross"," Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\n\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\n is captivatingly beautiful","barely\n see him move. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Three .45 slugs go through\n Mahmoud's chest, shattering the mirror behind him. He flops on\n his butt, slumping against the wall.\n\n Yusif, who is easily Harry's size, bellows and grabs his gun\n arm. They smash against the walls, struggling for the gun.\n Yusif, locked to Harry, hurls him against the stalls. They hit\n a locked door,","INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\n\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\n crosses quickly to a window and opens it onto a terrace. *\n\n\n 11 EXT. BALCONIES - NIGHT *\n\n Harry goes onto the terrace, and in a display of acrobatic *\n prowess, he pulls himself up onto the third floor balcony *\n directly above. He lets himself into-- *\n\n\n 12 INT.","one of the guards puts a burst right\n across Harry's path. Harry's skis are hit and he tumbles,\n comes out of it... running down the hill like a juggernaut in\n his heavy boots. He has lost the rifle somewhere in the snow.\n\n Harry takes cover behind the burning wreck of the downed\n chopper, which still has its engine running. The ski patrol\n opens fire from upslope. Rounds whacking against the disabled\n helicopter.\n\n Harry looks down the slope and gets","SSHHH. It's all he can do. He bends over her and\n brings his lips slowly down to her. He touches them to hers so\n slowly that she barely knows he is kissing her. Then he takes\n her in a passionate kiss.\n\n And she grabs the lamp on the bedside table and SMASHES IT OVER\n HIS HEAD. Harry flies off onto the floor, groaning and\n semiconscious.\n\n Helen flips on the light and grabs her clothes, starting to\n "],["you'll be home at eight. I don't *\n want Dana and I sitting here by\n ourselves like we were last year.\n You promise?\n\n HARRY\n (laughing)\n Baby, I said I'd be there.\n Really. Trust me.\n (the room phone RINGS)\n Gotta go, honey. Bye bye.\n\n RING. Harry raises an eyebrow as he answers.\n\n HAR","her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n\n\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\n\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\n\n\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\n\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\n cross","never had one\n of these.\n\n They are in her room, which is your basic room from Hell.\n Pearl Jam posters, and an unbelievable clutter of junk,\n magazines and cheap jewelry. Harry kisses her on the cheek, to\n which she submits dutifully. He looks at his watch and heads\n for the door.\n\n HARRY\n You better hurry. You're going\n to be late for school.\n\n Harry hurries out and Dana considers the Swiss village",". I know Harry.\n\n Helen hangs up the phone just as Dana strides through the room,\n putting on a jacket and heading for the front door.\n\n HELEN\n Where are you going?\n\n DANA\n Out. If Dad doesn't care enough\n about us to be here on his\n birthday, then why should I care?\n I'm going to a movie.\n\n HELEN\n No you're not. You're going to\n","s steam.\n\n They laugh together. Harry's laugh is getting a bit brittle.\n He speeds up, his knuckles white on the wheel. Now for the big\n question: HAVE THEY OR HAVEN'T THEY?\n\n HARRY\n Sooooo... she's pretty good in\n bed, then?\n\n SIMON\n (yelling suddenly)\n Hey, slow down you're gonna miss\n the turn!\n\n\n 164 EXT","has just\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\n\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry","the lapels, and\n slams him against the car.\n\n HARRY\n STOP. CHEERING. ME. UP.\n\n We see in Harry's rage, frustration, and hurt confusion a\n vulnerability we never expected to see.\n\n GIB\n What'dya expect Harry? She's a\n flesh and blood woman. And\n you're never there. It was only\n a matter of time.\n\n Harry sags. His",".\n\n HARRY\n (In Arabic/ subtitled)\n Where's the john around here? I\n have to take a major leak.\n\n The guard points warily down the corridor. Harry nods and\n heads that way, back toward the party.\n\n\n 16 INT. MAIN HALL/ STAIRCASE - NIGHT\n\n Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n",". Helen is avoiding Harry's eyes.\n Harry looks over at Dana and she gives him a tiny smile. Then\n she rises from her half-finished dinner and heads out of the\n kitchen.\n\n DANA\n I'm done.\n\n HELEN\n Where are you off to young lady?\n\n DANA\n (pointing toward her\n room)\n I have a book report.\n\n Helen watches her go. That's strange.\n\n ","at the house.\n\n\n 172 INT. SEDAN - NIGHT\n\n Harry growls and slams the car into gear, roaring out into\n traffic. Horns honk as he cuts off people. He is oblivious.\n He grabs his rover.\n\n HARRY\n Unit Two? Unit Seven?\n\n\n 172A CUT TO -- FAISIL AND AGENT WEBSTER IN THE UNIT SEVEN VAN *\n\n FAISIL\n","aping directly for his throat. Harry grabs the dog\n and shot-puts him up into a tree without breaking stride. Dog\n Fu. The dog yelps and scrambles to hold onto an icy branch,\n looking down in amazement.\n\n\n 27 EXT. PERIMETER WALL/ MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT\n\n Harry leaps down on the outside of the wall, hitting a snow\n bank and sliding downhill. He sprints down the gentle slope\n toward the highway.\n\n ","HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\n of the party and owner of the chateau. He is fat and animated,\n greeting guests with a flourish. As Harry watches he warmly *\n greets a beautiful WOMAN. They become absorbed in a *\n conversation.\n\n The woman glances up and sees Harry checking her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n","dazed. He is not so much walking to the car as wandering\n in its general direction. He stops, in the street. Gib gets\n out of the car and rushes to him. He pulls him out of the path\n of a bus which is HONKING irritably.\n\n GIB\n You look like you got gut-kicked.\n What's the matter? You sick?\n\n Harry leans against the car for support.\n\n HARRY\n (barely audible","thought\n you might like to have lunch.\n\n HELEN\n They must've just missed me.\n\n HARRY\n They said you had to run out.\n\n HELEN\n Yeah. It was a rush thing. They\n needed some documents down at the\n court house. I barely made it.\n\n Harry watches her lying to him with some amazement. You can\n see the jaw muscles clenching.\n\n HARRY\n ","hits us: SHE HAS NO\n IDEA WHAT HARRY REALLY DOES.\n\n HELEN\n (barely listening)\n That's fabulous Harry.\n\n HARRY\n Yeah, it was wild.\n\n Harry glances at her, oblivious to him and brushing her teeth.\n He smiles. The best lies are told with enthusiasm.\n\n\n 39 INT. FRONT HALLWAY, LIVING ROOM - DAY\n\n ","today?\n\n DANA\n Fine.\n\n Harry takes a bite of his food, watching her. Silence. Helen\n glances at him.\n\n HELEN\n So. You came by to see me today?\n\n She is a too casual, masking her nervousness.\n\n HARRY\n I was in the area, and I thought\n you might like to have lunch.\n\n HELEN\n They must've just missed me.\n\n "," Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\n\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\n is captivatingly beautiful","Raises one\n eyebrow. Woggles the plane's wings.\n\n HARRY\n Hi, pumpkin.\n\n\n ONE YEAR LATER\n\n\n 324 INT. TASKER HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n Dinner at home, and everybody's there. We come in on the end\n of some story that everybody thinks is hysterical.\n\n HELEN\n ... you should have seen your\n father, standing there all\n covered with spaghe","You better hurry. You're going\n to be late for school.\n\n Harry hurries out and Dana considers the Swiss village a\n moment.\n\n DANA\n Really lame.\n\n She plonks is straight in the wastebasket.\n\n\n 38 INT. HALLWAY/BEDROOM/ BATHROOM - DAY\n\n Harry strides down the hall, avoiding their small but *\n incredibly ugly dog, GIZMO, who skitters past him going the *\n","it back onto its rightful finger. *\n\n He leans forward to kiss her. She reaches for him. Their lips *\n meet.\n\n\n 297 EXT. CAUSEWAY - HARRIERS IN BACKGROUND - DAY\n\n And they are locked together in that position when the sky\n lights up behind them. Talk about fireworks. Harry covers her *\n eyes and they stay in the kiss. *\n\n They are in no danger, but the effect is stunning. The"],[" Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\n\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\n is captivatingly beautiful","toward the back of the warehouse and then leaves. Harry is\n left alone in the vast space.\n\n Only a few lights are on, rendering the place somewhat Gothic.\n Harry strolls in the direction the workman pointed. Ahead of\n him, is the huge facade of a royal tomb. There is a flickering\n light inside. A shadow moves across the wall in the entryway.\n\n HARRY\n Hello?\n\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARR","has just\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\n\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry","her husband. Harry looks up from\n behind cover-- to see all seven dead. Now it's his turn to be\n amazed. He signals to her to run... get off the exposed\n catwalk. She makes it through the door to the outside stairs\n as bullets start hitting the steel walls behind her.\n\n\n 259 INT. WAREHOUSE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT\n\n A TERRORIST with a knife runs at the unarmed Harry. Harry\n snatches up a jack-hammer and","the aircraft. They are covered\n by hoods.\n\n Malik walks up to them and pulls their hoods off. Harry takes\n in his surroundings and looks back into the eyes of Malik.\n Lethal energy flows between them.\n\n MALIK\n Who is this woman?\n\n JUNO\n His wife.\n\n MALIK\n (seeing the\n possibilities)\n His wife? Good. Bring them.\n\n\n 242 INT","Giving Harry the\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\n\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\n\n HARRY\n Don't move.\n\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\n between her thigh","her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n\n\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\n\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\n\n\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\n\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\n cross"," The thug leader cuffs her across the head to shut her up.\n\n HELEN\n That was unnecessary.\n\n\n 236 INT. HOTEL BASEMENT - NIGHT *\n\n A stairwell door opens and the terrorists rush Harry and Helen *\n through the basement labyrinth. *\n\n HELEN\n What were you doing there?\n\n HARRY\n You wouldn't believe me.\n\n A pistol muzzle is j",". Her heart stops.\n\n DANA\n Oh my Gooooood.\n\n\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\n\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\n\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\n front of her friends.\n\n HARRY\n There are going to be some",".\n\n HARRY\n (In Arabic/ subtitled)\n Where's the john around here? I\n have to take a major leak.\n\n The guard points warily down the corridor. Harry nods and\n heads that way, back toward the party.\n\n\n 16 INT. MAIN HALL/ STAIRCASE - NIGHT\n\n Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n","it back onto its rightful finger. *\n\n He leans forward to kiss her. She reaches for him. Their lips *\n meet.\n\n\n 297 EXT. CAUSEWAY - HARRIERS IN BACKGROUND - DAY\n\n And they are locked together in that position when the sky\n lights up behind them. Talk about fireworks. Harry covers her *\n eyes and they stay in the kiss. *\n\n They are in no danger, but the effect is stunning. The","rier pilots stand nearby, watching the\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\n finger pressed in his ear, listening to his headset. He waves\n to Harry to come to him.\n\n Harry detaches from Helen and walks over to him. Helen watches\n him go... back to work. She glances over at the two Harrier\n pilots.\n\n HELEN\n (to the pilots)\n That's my husband.\n\n HARRY goes into the hudd","\n Yes, that's it.\n\n TIGHT ON Harry's eyes as he studies her. His game, meant to\n give her a dangerous fantasy, is actually turning him on\n mightily. He is amazed to see her playing the role, getting\n into it. This is not the Helen is thought he knew for sixteen\n years.\n\n HARRY (TAPE)\n Now, lie on the bed and close\n your eyes.\n\n She does. Harry rises and goes to her, bringing","wreckage on the bridge, the\n whole unbelievable panorama.\n\n Then she looks at Harry and-- Grins. She's alive! And so is\n he. And not only that, this is the biggest rush of her life.\n Harry grins back. Surprised and pleased that she is more of a\n soul-mate than he ever knew.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n\n 294 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY\n\n ANGLE ON A HARRI","Harry is open and encouraging... they\n laugh together... then when he looks away Harry goes snake-\n eyed. He could kill Simon with one punch. He's visualizing\n his wife getting porked by this guy.\n\n HARRY\n But with you, she gets to be hot,\n right?\n\n SIMON\n Red hot. Her thighs steam.\n\n They laugh together. Harry's laugh is getting a bit brittle.\n He speeds up, his knuckles","HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\n of the party and owner of the chateau. He is fat and animated,\n greeting guests with a flourish. As Harry watches he warmly *\n greets a beautiful WOMAN. They become absorbed in a *\n conversation.\n\n The woman glances up and sees Harry checking her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n"," So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\n\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\n chain from around his neck and holds","minutes and she's ready to bear\n his children\n (to Harry)\n What's your exit strategy Twinkle\n Toes?\n\n\n 24 EXT. CHATEAU/ FRONT ENTRANCE - NIGHT\n\n Harry nods to the security men at the door as he strides\n confidently through. He goes down the steps to the broad\n terrace above the motor court. Behind Harry, a GUARD lowers\n his walky talky and starts after him.\n\n GU","car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry. There eyes meet for a moment, just before Malik's\n car ascends rapidly. Malik's malevolent glare is etched on\n Harry's retinas.\n\n The older couple is jammed against the side-wall by Harry's\n panting, snorting horse. It clomps around the tight elevator.\n The woman is trying to crawl between her husband and the","\n\n HARRY\n It can't be.\n\n GIB\n Same thing happened to me with\n wife two. I had no idea until I\n came home and the house was\n empty. I mean empty. She even\n took the ice-cube trays from the\n fridge. What kind of person\n would think of that?\n\n HARRY\n (not listening)\n I still don't believe it.\n\n "],["her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n\n\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\n\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\n\n\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\n\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\n cross","the lapels, and\n slams him against the car.\n\n HARRY\n STOP. CHEERING. ME. UP.\n\n We see in Harry's rage, frustration, and hurt confusion a\n vulnerability we never expected to see.\n\n GIB\n What'dya expect Harry? She's a\n flesh and blood woman. And\n you're never there. It was only\n a matter of time.\n\n Harry sags. His","be telling the truth.\n\n HARRY\n (to Helen)\n Wait! Calm down, Mrs. Tasker.\n There is only one more question.\n\n Helen drops the stool. She stands there panting. Her fury\n spent, she begins to cry.\n\n HELEN\n What?\n\n HARRY\n Do you still love your husband?\n\n HELEN\n (softly)\n Yes.\n\n H",". Aahhh! Don't kill me.\n I'm not a spy. I'm nothing. I'm\n navel lint. I have to lie to\n women to get laid. And I don't\n score much. It's pathetic.\n (he looks down)\n See, look... would a spy pee\n himself?\n\n Harry is finally sickened by his grovelling. He pulls Simon\n away from the edge, then gestures with","Giving Harry the\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\n\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\n\n HARRY\n Don't move.\n\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\n between her thigh","Harry is open and encouraging... they\n laugh together... then when he looks away Harry goes snake-\n eyed. He could kill Simon with one punch. He's visualizing\n his wife getting porked by this guy.\n\n HARRY\n But with you, she gets to be hot,\n right?\n\n SIMON\n Red hot. Her thighs steam.\n\n They laugh together. Harry's laugh is getting a bit brittle.\n He speeds up, his knuckles","has just\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\n\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry"," I guess I needed\n something...\n\n HARRY\n What did you need?\n\n HELEN\n I needed to feel alive. I wanted\n to do something... outrageous.\n And... I don't know... it felt\n good to be needed. To be\n trusted. To be special.\n\n In verbalizing it she just feels smaller, more pathetic that\n she ever did. She hates the unseen voices for making for try\n to"," Why?\n\n FAISIL\n (he shrugs)\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\n\n TRILBY\n This is impressive, gentlemen.\n Of course, it would have been\n even more impressive if you\n actually knew where he was.\n\n HARRY\n We'll get him.\n\n TRILBY\n Yes. You will.\n (meaning-- you damn\n well better)\n Harry,",". Her heart stops.\n\n DANA\n Oh my Gooooood.\n\n\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\n\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\n\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\n front of her friends.\n\n HARRY\n There are going to be some"," Trade secret.\n\n HARRY\n (grinning)\n Sure. Set me up and then don't\n tell me.\n\n Simon leans forward, conspiratorially.\n\n SIMON\n Okay, just ask yourself. What do\n women really want? You take\n these bored housewives, married\n to the same guy for years. Stuck\n in a rut. They need some\n release. The promise of\n ","toward the back of the warehouse and then leaves. Harry is\n left alone in the vast space.\n\n Only a few lights are on, rendering the place somewhat Gothic.\n Harry strolls in the direction the workman pointed. Ahead of\n him, is the huge facade of a royal tomb. There is a flickering\n light inside. A shadow moves across the wall in the entryway.\n\n HARRY\n Hello?\n\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARR","INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\n\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\n crosses quickly to a window and opens it onto a terrace. *\n\n\n 11 EXT. BALCONIES - NIGHT *\n\n Harry goes onto the terrace, and in a display of acrobatic *\n prowess, he pulls himself up onto the third floor balcony *\n directly above. He lets himself into-- *\n\n\n 12 INT.","\n You're going to stay in school.\n Do you understand?\n\n DANA\n Why? So I can wind up like you?\n What's the point?\n\n You think Harry's going to really rain on her parade. But he\n doesn't. He becomes very tender. He pushes the hair back from\n her face.\n\n HARRY\n Did I tell you about the time we\n first met?\n\n She looks up at him,","he is telling the truth.\n\n HELEN *\n (grinning) *\n It wore off.\n\n At that moment, they hear yelling from the cinder-block\n building.\n\n HARRY\n They found the bodies. Come on--\n\n\n 249 EXT. SWAMP - NIGHT\n\n Harry takes her hand and they sprint for cover at the edge of\n the mangrove swamp. A LIGHT HITS THEM","\n No one must know! Especially\n him. You must appear to live\n your life normally, conveying\n nothing. The security of this\n nation depends on it. Can you do\n that?\n\n HELEN\n I think so.\n\n HARRY\n Think carefully. You will be\n lying to the man you love. The\n person who trusts you the most.\n\n HELEN\n (fearless)\n","exist and yells at the terrorists to\n remove the other weapons. Jackhammers tear into the stone\n figures.\n\n Helen is just staring at Harry, her mouth open. He turns to\n her, not knowing what to say. He shrugs sheepishly.\n\n HARRY\n What can I say? I'm a spy.\n\n She just looks at him for a long time. She moves closer,\n staring and staring, letting it sink in. Then she hauls off\n and slugs him","to ask Harry\n a few questions. See, we're not\n even sure which agency Harry\n works for. Now, Samir is\n absolutely first class, but on\n the other hand we have Harry,\n here, who has managed to lie\n convincingly to the woman he\n loves for 15 years. So it will\n be interesting to see how long he\n can resist.\n\n SAMIR\n (holding up a syringe)\n This"," Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\n\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\n is captivatingly beautiful"," You sick?\n\n Harry leans against the car for support.\n\n HARRY\n (barely audible)\n He-- Helen. Helen-- it's Helen.\n It's Helen, Gib.\n\n GIB\n Something to do with Helen, is\n what I'm getting.\n\n HARRY\n She's having an affair.\n\n Harry's best friend in the world brightens with the news. He\n slaps him on the back"],["Giving Harry the\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\n\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\n\n HARRY\n Don't move.\n\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\n between her thigh","67 EXT. UNDERWATER - NIGHT\n\n Harry is still swimming. He reaches the edge of the fire and\n surfaces, gasping for breath. Treading water he scans the\n dock.\n\n\n 268 EXT. WATER OF THE DOCK - HARRY'S POV - NIGHT\n\n Amid the fire and smoke, he sees Juno walking Helen at gun\n point toward a LIMO.\n\n\n 269 EXT. WAREHOUSE - N","aping directly for his throat. Harry grabs the dog\n and shot-puts him up into a tree without breaking stride. Dog\n Fu. The dog yelps and scrambles to hold onto an icy branch,\n looking down in amazement.\n\n\n 27 EXT. PERIMETER WALL/ MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT\n\n Harry leaps down on the outside of the wall, hitting a snow\n bank and sliding downhill. He sprints down the gentle slope\n toward the highway.\n\n ","has just\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\n\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry","and seizes him in a two-\n hand neck-breaker-- SNAP.\n\n Two more run around the corner of a building. Harry stomps his *\n foot down on one of the AKs, which is lying across a log. It *\n flips into the air and he catches it in firing position . . *\n . and takes them out with two well-aimed bursts. Helen comes *\n out of the shadows staring at Harry in amazement. His shirt is\n ripped, he is scrat","!!\n The horse's hoofs thunder on the roof as they go full tilt\n toward the edge.\n\n But a horse is not a motorcycle. It is slightly smarter. It\n slams its front hoofs down together, stopping suddenly. Harry\n goes right over its head. He flies forward, almost going right\n off the roof. He slams to the edge, with his legs dangling\n over, holding onto a piece of pipe with one hand. His Glock\n tumbles down into darkness.\n\n Harry","Harry)\n And what makes you think you can\n do all that?\n\n HARRY\n Because I picked the lock on\n these handcuffs...\n\n He holds them up to show Samir. Then he explodes out of the\n chair-- Breaks the torturer's neck-- Spins him between himself\n and the guard-- Who then hesitates to fire-- Giving Harry the\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly","Harry's head. Harry grabs\n his daughter with his left hand, holding her with all his\n strength and he-- Jinks the stick hard, just as-- Malik opens\n fire, but-- The plane tilts wildly and Malik topples, screaming--\n He slides along the wing, and falls over the leading edge--\n Only to catch himself on the only available hand-hold-- The\n last Sidewinder missile.\n\n\n 322 EXT. HARRIER / SIDEWINDER - DAY\n\n Harry","looking around wildly for a way\n out. Harry charges in, ducking to avoid the chandelier.\n Waiters, trays, dinners, tables... everything seems to be\n flying at once as people dive out of the way.\n\n\n 95 INT. HOTEL - MAIN HALL - NIGHT\n\n MALIK skids out into the main hall by another door, and sees--\n the ELEVATORS. The door is just closing on one of them. He\n guns it and slides through the doors","the bushes and out onto the street.\n Cars skid around him, out of control. He turns south. Weaving\n through traffic. Harry leaps the hedgerow behind Malik and\n gallops among the spun-out cars. He goes right over the hood\n on one which is blocking his path. The driver ducks as the\n horse's hoof cracks the windshield.\n\n\n 92 EXT. STREET/ HYATT REGENCY HOTEL - NIGHT\n\n Up ahead traffic is stopped",". He gathers\n the animal and LEAPS (in glorious SLOW MOTION) over the\n bassist, who is diving for the carpet. Harry and horse land\n deftly and then he urges his mount right up the steps after\n Malik.\n\n\n 94 INT. HOTEL RESTAURANT - NIGHT\n\n Malik roars between the tables, looking around wildly for a way\n out. Harry charges in, ducking to avoid the chandelier.\n Waiters, tr","sees the chopper start an attack run. He comes out into\n the open, going straight downhill like a rocket. The chopper\n gets suckered in... trying to hit him, getting right down\n behind him... and suddenly-- Harry slides to a stop in an\n explosion of powder and whips up the rifle. P-P-P-POW! He\n rakes a burst across the windshield. The startled pilot\n swerves and-- Suddenly two tall pine trees are right in front\n of him.\n\n K","it back onto its rightful finger. *\n\n He leans forward to kiss her. She reaches for him. Their lips *\n meet.\n\n\n 297 EXT. CAUSEWAY - HARRIERS IN BACKGROUND - DAY\n\n And they are locked together in that position when the sky\n lights up behind them. Talk about fireworks. Harry covers her *\n eyes and they stay in the kiss. *\n\n They are in no danger, but the effect is stunning. The","wreckage on the bridge, the\n whole unbelievable panorama.\n\n Then she looks at Harry and-- Grins. She's alive! And so is\n he. And not only that, this is the biggest rush of her life.\n Harry grins back. Surprised and pleased that she is more of a\n soul-mate than he ever knew.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n\n 294 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY\n\n ANGLE ON A HARRI","the\n surface above him. Harry kicks hard, trying to swim beyond the\n inferno above him so he can surface.\n\n\n 266 EXT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n CLOSE ON HELEN, watching the burning wreckage of the gas truck.\n\n HELEN\n Oh my God. Harry.\n\n A PISTOL ENTERS FRAME. Its muzzle taps the back of her head.\n She gasps and turns to see-- JUNO, holding the","\n opens fire from upslope. Rounds whacking against the disabled\n helicopter.\n\n Harry looks down the slope and gets an idea. He jerks the\n unconscious pilot out and pushes on the fuselage, rocking it.\n It slips over the edge. He leaps inside as it topples forward\n and slides down the slope.\n\n\n 30 INT./ EXT. HELICOPTER - MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT\n\n Harry adds throttle and works the footpedals,","shield. The startled pilot\n swerves and-- Suddenly two tall pine trees are right in front\n of him.\n\n K-WHACK! The main-rotor blade snaps clean off and the chopper\n drops into the snow, plowing into a snowbank. It slides right\n to the edge of a steep ridge and stops, teetering.\n\n Firing from a snowmobile, one of the guards puts a burst right\n across Harry's path. Harry's skis are hit and he tumbles,\n ","behind\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\n vicious street-fighter moves. Harry looks upslope as--\n\n A service gate opens in the perimeter wall and TEAMS OF\n SECURITY MEN in white snow-suits pour out, some on skis, some\n on SNOWMOBILES. A HELICOPTER rises over the wall in a blast of\n swirling snow. Its xenon lights rake through the trees,\n casting lur","INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\n\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\n crosses quickly to a window and opens it onto a terrace. *\n\n\n 11 EXT. BALCONIES - NIGHT *\n\n Harry goes onto the terrace, and in a display of acrobatic *\n prowess, he pulls himself up onto the third floor balcony *\n directly above. He lets himself into-- *\n\n\n 12 INT.","ON HARRY, running. Ahead is a MOUNTED COP. Harry doesn't\n break stride, heading right for the cop on the horse. The cop\n turns, surprised, a split second before-- Harry pulls him off\n the horse and slams him to the ground (he's wearing a helmet).\n\n HARRY\n Federal Officer in pursuit of\n suspect! Sorry.\n\n Harry is in the saddle and galloping after Malik before the cop\n can get his gut out of the holster to stop"],[" Why?\n\n FAISIL\n (he shrugs)\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\n\n TRILBY\n This is impressive, gentlemen.\n Of course, it would have been\n even more impressive if you\n actually knew where he was.\n\n HARRY\n We'll get him.\n\n TRILBY\n Yes. You will.\n (meaning-- you damn\n well better)\n Harry,","NEARBY, Akbar is going through the contents of Helen's handbag\n and Harry's wallet. He rips open the bottom stitching and\n pulls out the geo-positioning transmitter.\n\n AKBAR\n Abu! Look at this! *\n\n Malik looks at the tracker and then smashes it to the floor.\n Helen looks at the crushed transmitter. She stares at Harry\n with dawning realization.\n\n HELEN\n You bugged me?","the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People in\n his wake look at each other like \"Do you know him?\" They\n shrug, go on with their conversation. Harry moves through the\n crowd. Scanning.\n\n HARRY\n There's Daddy Petrobucks.\n\n HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\n of the party and owner of the","\n\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\n is captivatingly beautiful, and her gaze is piercing.\n\n HARRY\n (indicating the bas-\n relief)\n Magnificent, isn't it?\n\n WOMAN\n Yes. Hi, I'm Juno Skinner. I\n thought I knew most of Khaled's\n friends but I don't believe I\n know you."," Harry is at one of the urinals, apparently taking a leak.\n Mahmoud goes to the mirror. Starts combing his hair. He\n doesn't much notice the pack of Camels sitting on the counter\n nearby. Harry is whistling. Shaking himself.\n\n HARRY'S POV - In the video glasses Harry sees himself and\n Mahmoud. Yusif comes into the restroom, seemingly ignoring\n both Harry and Mahmoud, as if heading for the stalls. As he\n passes behind","HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\n of the party and owner of the chateau. He is fat and animated,\n greeting guests with a flourish. As Harry watches he warmly *\n greets a beautiful WOMAN. They become absorbed in a *\n conversation.\n\n The woman glances up and sees Harry checking her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n","the ship. A rusting\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\n an AEROSPATIALE HELICOPTER thunders toward them over the black\n Caribbean water.\n\n The helicopter lands and Juno steps down from the front door.\n The sliding door is opened and Akbar and the others pull a\n groggy Harry and Helen out of the aircraft. They are covered\n by hoods.\n\n Malik walks up to them and pulls their hoods off. Harry takes","He doesn't meet her\n gaze. She nods and they go into the private office.\n\n\n 59 INT. JUNO'S OFFICE - DAY\n\n MALIK comes in behind her and closes the door. The moment they\n are away from public observation, his manner changes. His\n humble posture straightens and his eyes flash intensely as he\n approaches her. Without warning he SLAPS HER HARD ACROSS THE\n FACE.\n\n MALIK\n ",".\n\n HARRY\n (In Arabic/ subtitled)\n Where's the john around here? I\n have to take a major leak.\n\n The guard points warily down the corridor. Harry nods and\n heads that way, back toward the party.\n\n\n 16 INT. MAIN HALL/ STAIRCASE - NIGHT\n\n Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n",". The van doors open and the hostages are\n brought out. Harry sees a long black LIMO pulling up behind\n the van. The driver, an enormous man names AKBAR, hurries to\n open the passenger door. A slender pair of ankles emerge,\n followed by the rest of Juno Skinner, looking devastatingly\n beautiful but now quite sinister.\n\n To Helen it is like a living James Bond film, with the jet, the\n limo, the terrorists, and now an exotic femme fatale,","And sudden pandemonium as Malik roars through the lobby, with\n Harry charging along behind him. Malik guns it across the\n lounge, knocking over tables. He gets air at the top of the\n steps going up to the RESTAURANT.\n\n Harry swerves to avoid a panicking guest and finds himself\n careening toward the JAZZ QUARTET at a full gallop. He gathers\n the animal and LEAPS (in glorious SLOW MOTION) over the\n bassist, who is","struggling for the gun.\n Yusif, locked to Harry, hurls him against the stalls. They hit\n a locked door, which pops open, banging inward.\n\n Yusif drives Harry to the floor. Harry's head is between the\n shoes of an OLD GUY sitting on the can, who looks down\n uncomprehendingly at him.\n\n Yusif slams Harry's gun hand repeatedly against the doorframe\n of the stall. He twists Harry's wrist brutally. He","sweating, wondering if he\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\n\n MALIK\n -- But now the Oppressed have *\n been given a mighty sword, to *\n strike back at their enemies. *\n Unless the US pulls all military\n forces out of the Persian Gulf\n area, immediately and forever,\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\n one major US city each week until\n these demands are","has just\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\n\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry","car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry. There eyes meet for a moment, just before Malik's\n car ascends rapidly. Malik's malevolent glare is etched on\n Harry's retinas.\n\n The older couple is jammed against the side-wall by Harry's\n panting, snorting horse. It clomps around the tight elevator.\n The woman is trying to crawl between her husband and the","looking around wildly for a way\n out. Harry charges in, ducking to avoid the chandelier.\n Waiters, trays, dinners, tables... everything seems to be\n flying at once as people dive out of the way.\n\n\n 95 INT. HOTEL - MAIN HALL - NIGHT\n\n MALIK skids out into the main hall by another door, and sees--\n the ELEVATORS. The door is just closing on one of them. He\n guns it and slides through the doors"," So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\n\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\n chain from around his neck and holds","barely\n see him move. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Three .45 slugs go through\n Mahmoud's chest, shattering the mirror behind him. He flops on\n his butt, slumping against the wall.\n\n Yusif, who is easily Harry's size, bellows and grabs his gun\n arm. They smash against the walls, struggling for the gun.\n Yusif, locked to Harry, hurls him against the stalls. They hit\n a locked door,","There are three men in the car. YUSIF and MAHMOUD are in the\n front, with Mahmoud driving. In the back, shadowed, we can\n just make out ABU MALIK. Yusif is massively built, with a body\n like a beer-keg. Mahmoud is skinny and intense.\n\n \n 73 OMITTED *\n\n\n 74 INT./EXT. GIB'S CAR - MALL - NIGHT\n\n Harry puts"," He acquiesces as\n they pull him to his feet.\n\n HELEN\n He's got nothing to do with this.\n It's me you want, right?\n\n HARRY\n (to lead TERRORIST)\n Let the hooker go. She's not\n important.\n\n HELEN\n Harry, be quiet. Let me handle\n this.\n\n LEAD TERRORIST\n Shutup, both of you."],["has just\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\n\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry","INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\n\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\n crosses quickly to a window and opens it onto a terrace. *\n\n\n 11 EXT. BALCONIES - NIGHT *\n\n Harry goes onto the terrace, and in a display of acrobatic *\n prowess, he pulls himself up onto the third floor balcony *\n directly above. He lets himself into-- *\n\n\n 12 INT.","looking around wildly for a way\n out. Harry charges in, ducking to avoid the chandelier.\n Waiters, trays, dinners, tables... everything seems to be\n flying at once as people dive out of the way.\n\n\n 95 INT. HOTEL - MAIN HALL - NIGHT\n\n MALIK skids out into the main hall by another door, and sees--\n the ELEVATORS. The door is just closing on one of them. He\n guns it and slides through the doors","of the wall, hitting a snow\n bank and sliding downhill. He sprints down the gentle slope\n toward the highway.\n\n Harry looks back as TWO GUARDS ON SKIS come out of a guard\n station beside the main entrance.\n\n TRACKING WITH THE SKI-GUARDS, searching through the trees with\n lights. They have lost Harry. They stop. A snowbank behind\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\n vicious street-fighter moves","!!\n The horse's hoofs thunder on the roof as they go full tilt\n toward the edge.\n\n But a horse is not a motorcycle. It is slightly smarter. It\n slams its front hoofs down together, stopping suddenly. Harry\n goes right over its head. He flies forward, almost going right\n off the roof. He slams to the edge, with his legs dangling\n over, holding onto a piece of pipe with one hand. His Glock\n tumbles down into darkness.\n\n Harry","the bushes and out onto the street.\n Cars skid around him, out of control. He turns south. Weaving\n through traffic. Harry leaps the hedgerow behind Malik and\n gallops among the spun-out cars. He goes right over the hood\n on one which is blocking his path. The driver ducks as the\n horse's hoof cracks the windshield.\n\n\n 92 EXT. STREET/ HYATT REGENCY HOTEL - NIGHT\n\n Up ahead traffic is stopped","OTEL LOBBY - NIGHT\n\n Gib runs in with Faisil and Keough. They follow the path of\n destruction, growing more and more amazed. Gib yells to one of\n the porters.\n\n GIB\n The guy on the horse?!\n\n The porter points at the elevators.\n\n\n 98 INT. / EXT. SCENIC ELEVATORS - NIGHT\n\n Harry has slid off the horse to get next to the control panel.\n He can look up at an","car next to him, fifteen feet\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\n sees Harry. There eyes meet for a moment, just before Malik's\n car ascends rapidly. Malik's malevolent glare is etched on\n Harry's retinas.\n\n The older couple is jammed against the side-wall by Harry's\n panting, snorting horse. It clomps around the tight elevator.\n The woman is trying to crawl between her husband and the","into a fast one-\n eighty and speeds back toward the edge of the roof. Amazingly,\n he increases speed, ROARING RIGHT OFF THE EDGE, ARCING THE\n BIKE SUICIDALLY OUT INTO SPACE!\n\n Harry rides to the edge in time to see Malik, on his bike,\n CLEAR A 60 FOOT JUMP and SPLASH INTO THE ROOFTOP POOL of a *\n LOWER BUILDING next to the hotel!\n\n Harry is","aping directly for his throat. Harry grabs the dog\n and shot-puts him up into a tree without breaking stride. Dog\n Fu. The dog yelps and scrambles to hold onto an icy branch,\n looking down in amazement.\n\n\n 27 EXT. PERIMETER WALL/ MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT\n\n Harry leaps down on the outside of the wall, hitting a snow\n bank and sliding downhill. He sprints down the gentle slope\n toward the highway.\n\n ","toward the back of the warehouse and then leaves. Harry is\n left alone in the vast space.\n\n Only a few lights are on, rendering the place somewhat Gothic.\n Harry strolls in the direction the workman pointed. Ahead of\n him, is the huge facade of a royal tomb. There is a flickering\n light inside. A shadow moves across the wall in the entryway.\n\n HARRY\n Hello?\n\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARR","sees the chopper start an attack run. He comes out into\n the open, going straight downhill like a rocket. The chopper\n gets suckered in... trying to hit him, getting right down\n behind him... and suddenly-- Harry slides to a stop in an\n explosion of powder and whips up the rifle. P-P-P-POW! He\n rakes a burst across the windshield. The startled pilot\n swerves and-- Suddenly two tall pine trees are right in front\n of him.\n\n K","PLASH INTO THE ROOFTOP POOL of a *\n LOWER BUILDING next to the hotel!\n\n Harry is out of control now, seeing the guy setting away. He\n wheels his mount and charges across the roof to get some\n running space. Then he turns again, back toward the edge Malik\n jumped from. He kicks the horse's flanks and yells HAAHH!!\n The horse's hoofs thunder on the roof as they go full tilt\n toward the edge.\n\n But a horse is not","LEVATORS - NIGHT\n\n Harry has slid off the horse to get next to the control panel.\n He can look up at an angle and see Malik in the car above him.\n His thumb hovers over the emergency stop button. If Malik gets\n out at any floor, Harry will have a moment to react and stop.\n Malik can look down and see this. He knows Harry's got him.\n He just keeps going, floor after floor, using the time to\n think.\n\n The older woman is still just staring, trying","--\n the ELEVATORS. The door is just closing on one of them. He\n guns it and slides through the doors.\n\n HARRY RIDES out of the restaurant in time to catch a glimpse of\n Malik as the doors close.\n\n\n 96 INT. SCENIC ELEVATOR - NIGHT\n\n Harry canters the horse into the next elevator, which has just\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The","her out. There is\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\n cutting off their view of each other.\n\n\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\n\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\n\n\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\n\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\n cross","And sudden pandemonium as Malik roars through the lobby, with\n Harry charging along behind him. Malik guns it across the\n lounge, knocking over tables. He gets air at the top of the\n steps going up to the RESTAURANT.\n\n Harry swerves to avoid a panicking guest and finds himself\n careening toward the JAZZ QUARTET at a full gallop. He gathers\n the animal and LEAPS (in glorious SLOW MOTION) over the\n bassist, who is","behind\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\n vicious street-fighter moves. Harry looks upslope as--\n\n A service gate opens in the perimeter wall and TEAMS OF\n SECURITY MEN in white snow-suits pour out, some on skis, some\n on SNOWMOBILES. A HELICOPTER rises over the wall in a blast of\n swirling snow. Its xenon lights rake through the trees,\n casting lur"," Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\n\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\n is captivatingly beautiful"," sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\n\n\n 312 EXT. ROOF - OVERLOOKING EDGE - DAY\n\n ANGLE LOOKING DOWN. Malik, Dana, the street far below. With\n an unbelievable roar the Harrier sweeps in beneath Dana,\n FILLING FRAME.\n\n\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\n\n Harry has the canopy"],["rier pilots stand nearby, watching the\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\n finger pressed in his ear, listening to his headset. He waves\n to Harry to come to him.\n\n Harry detaches from Helen and walks over to him. Helen watches\n him go... back to work. She glances over at the two Harrier\n pilots.\n\n HELEN\n (to the pilots)\n That's my husband.\n\n HARRY goes into the hudd","*\n eyes and they stay in the kiss. *\n\n They are in no danger, but the effect is stunning. The classic *\n mushroom cloud appears at the horizon. Helen watches, awed,\n the most glorious and terrifying sight of our age.\n\n HELEN *\n That was some kiss. *\n\n The two young Harrier pilots stand nearby, watching the\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\n finger pressed in his"," DANA\n I'm done.\n\n Dana bolts. She has eaten about four bites. Harry sits at the\n table, alone. He feels isolated, knowing that everybody is\n lying to everybody else. He is a man without a center, lost.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n\n 120 INT. OMEGA SECTOR/ LISTENING ROOM - DAY\n\n TRACKING ALONG THE BANK OF RECORDERS. Harry comes to a\n particular","DAY\n\n Gib and Harry pass through the inner door of the sally port\n into a large austere atrium.\n\n ANGLE FROM ABOVE as they cross. A huge graphic logo covers the\n floor. Across the center is says OMEGA SECTOR. In smaller\n print, around the perimeter, is the motto: \"THE LAST LINE OF\n DEFENSE\".\n\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cub","and Harry are working out of brief-case mobile com-units.\n Several Omega agents with headsets are reading maps, giving\n commands, coordinating the evacuation, mobilizing their own\n forces. The energy is controlled but very high, everybody\n talking at once. This is the day they all have trained for.\n It is impressive to watch.\n\n GIB\n --you tell the son of bitch this\n is Bright Boy Alert. Repeat,\n a Bright Boy Alert. And I need\n ","O\n How?\n\n MALIK\n Use the gifts that Allah has\n given you.\n\n\n 60 INT. TEKTEL SYSTEMS OFFICES - DUSK *\n\n The phone rings on the desk of CHARLENE, Harry's secretary at *\n Tektel Systems, the permanent front-company for Omega Sector. *\n\n SECRETARY\n Hello, Tektel Systems. Mr. *\n Tasker'","Helen it is like a living James Bond film, with the jet, the\n limo, the terrorists, and now an exotic femme fatale, dressed\n to kill, approaching them.\n\n JUNO\n (with a wry smile)\n Hello, Harry.\n\n HARRY\n Juno. I wish I could say it's a\n pleasure to see you again.\n\n HELEN\n You know her?\n\n Juno signals with her eyes and the terrorists march the\n"," clothes ripped and bloody. But okay.\n\n GIB\n I thought this look like your\n work.\n\n HARRY\n Let's go. I'll brief you in the\n air.\n\n GIB\n You're welcome.\n\n\n 272 INT. BELL 206 - DAY\n\n Gib and Harry are working out of brief-case mobile com-units.\n Several Omega agents with headsets are reading maps, giving\n commands,"," to go over there, honey.\n\n HARRY\n Sure, hon.\n\n She walks unhurriedly out of the room. Behind her back, Harry\n is grinning. The second Helen is out of his sight line, she\n runs up the stairs. Harry waits a moment then picks up the\n phone.\n\n\n 226 INT. OMEGA SECTOR/ ELECTRONIC LAB -- NIGHT\n\n Gib is in a corner of the electronics lab, in an area dedicated\n ","!\n\n GIB\n Can we go to the office now, Mr.\n Superspy?\n\n CUT TO:\n\n\n 109 INT. OMEGA SECTOR / I.D. ANALYSIS ROOM - DAY\n\n Harry is sitting at a computer workstation, lit by the monitor\n screen. Gib and Faisil look on as he clicks through HEADSHOTS\n of known terrorists. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. Harry is very",".\n\n HARRY\n We should pick up visual at the\n next light.\n\n The scrambler phone in Harry's briefcase rings. He picks it\n up.\n\n HARRY\n Morning, boss.\n\n\n 215 INT. OMEGA SECTOR - DAY\n\n INTERCUT WITH SEDAN. Spencer Trilby stands glowering as he\n talks to Harry.\n\n TRILBY\n Harry, this report on last\n","was an American agent.\n\n\n 201 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - NIGHT\n\n INSIDE THE CONTROL room we can see Harry, Gib and, through the\n glass, Helen. Their voices sound normal on this side.\n\n HARRY\n How long have you been a member\n of his faction?\n\n HELEN\n I don't know anything about a\n faction. I just met Simon... or\n whatever his name is... ","OMEGA SECTOR - NIGHT\n\n GIB, AT OMEGA SECTOR, uses the SPEECH SYNTHESIZER to disguise\n his voice.\n\n GIB\n Listen carefully. Go to the\n Hotel Marquis in one hour. Pick\n up an envelope marked Doris at\n the front desk. And dress sexy.\n\n\n 225 INT. TASKER HOUSE - NIGHT\n\n BACK ON HELEN as she reacts to that.\n\n ","room, with large-screen computer\n displays at one end. Glowering at one end of the long,\n polished table, is SPENCER TRILBY, the chief of Omega Sector.\n Visualize a cross between Colin Powel and J. Edgar Hoover.\n\n TRILBY\n Jesus, Harry! You guys really\n screwed the pooch last night.\n Please tell me how I can look at\n this, that it's not a total pooch-\n screw.\n\n"," (to Harry)\n So now it's Tasker? Not\n Renquist?\n\n\n 239 INT. G-3 JET - NIGHT\n\n They enter the luxurious passenger cabin of the plane. Helen\n has never seen anything like this.\n\n HELEN\n Look, Harry's not part of this.\n He's just a sales rep.\n\n JUNO\n No, my dear, he is a federal\n agent. He killed two of","8 INT. OMEGA SECTOR / LISTENING ROOM - DAY\n\n Harry and Gib are in the LISTENING ROOM. Banks of tape-decks\n recording calls, rows of technicians in cubicles processing and\n collating transcripts.\n\n GIB\n He's giving us a blank check on *\n wiretaps. So I've set 'em up on\n all of Juno's shipping agents,\n her clients, and Faisil made up ","the other agents and runs after Helen.\n She sprints through the trees, Harry pounding after her. He\n grabs her and gets her in a headlock. She bites the hell out\n of his arm. Harry yells and lets her go, just as-- Keough runs\n up and matter-of-factly clips her on the head with his weapon.\n Standard operating procedure. Which is why he can't understand\n why Harry punches him, knocking him down.\n\n Harry supports a sagging Helen, gesturing sharply to","he can't understand\n why Harry punches him, knocking him down.\n\n Harry supports a sagging Helen, gesturing sharply to the other\n agents and going RRRRR-RRRR to make his point (since he can't\n talk without her recognizing his voice). They head for the\n cars.\n\n CUT TO:\n\n\n 198 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM/OBSERVATION CHAMBER - NIGHT\n\n An empty room with a single stool under a light, and","mouth and turns slowly, scanning... revealing:\n\n HARRY TASKER. Our hero. Harry floats with just his eyes above\n the surface, silent as a water snake, as a guard passes on a\n footpath nearby.\n\n After a few beats Harry slips out of his tanks and fins,\n letting them sink, and climbs the frozen ladder onto the dock.\n He moves like a ninja into the shadows of the boathouse.\n Opening a WATERPROOF BAG, he pulls out a walky","behind\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\n vicious street-fighter moves. Harry looks upslope as--\n\n A service gate opens in the perimeter wall and TEAMS OF\n SECURITY MEN in white snow-suits pour out, some on skis, some\n on SNOWMOBILES. A HELICOPTER rises over the wall in a blast of\n swirling snow. Its xenon lights rake through the trees,\n casting lur"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"\\n\\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\\n is captivatingly beautiful, and her gaze is piercing.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (indicating the bas-\\n relief)\\n Magnificent, isn't it?\\n\\n WOMAN\\n Yes. Hi, I'm Juno Skinner. I\\n thought I knew most of Khaled's\\n friends but I don't believe I\\n know you.\",\n \". The van doors open and the hostages are\\n brought out. Harry sees a long black LIMO pulling up behind\\n the van. The driver, an enormous man names AKBAR, hurries to\\n open the passenger door. A slender pair of ankles emerge,\\n followed by the rest of Juno Skinner, looking devastatingly\\n beautiful but now quite sinister.\\n\\n To Helen it is like a living James Bond film, with the jet, the\\n limo, the terrorists, and now an exotic femme fatale,\",\n \"HARRY\\n I'm sorry, honey.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Don't call me honey! You don't\\n ever get to call me honey again.\\n You understand?! You pig!\\n\\n Juno looks at them both and laughs. She offers Helen a tissue.\\n\\n JUNO\\n Here you go, dear.\\n\\n NEARBY, Akbar is going through the contents of Helen's handbag\\n and Harry's wallet. He rips open the bottom\",\n \"INT. MAIN HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry whirls Juno aggressively across the dancefloor. She\\n responds deftly. They are well matched. She parries each of\\n his smooth moves with a flourish. It is a contest of wills,\\n and a surprised appraisal for each that the other is worthy.\\n Juno is hot. He bends her back at the waist, then snaps her\\n up. She twirls into the crook of his arm. Their faces are\\n inches apart\",\n \"Helen it is like a living James Bond film, with the jet, the\\n limo, the terrorists, and now an exotic femme fatale, dressed\\n to kill, approaching them.\\n\\n JUNO\\n (with a wry smile)\\n Hello, Harry.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Juno. I wish I could say it's a\\n pleasure to see you again.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You know her?\\n\\n Juno signals with her eyes and the terrorists march the\\n\",\n \"\\n HARRY\\n Hello?\\n\\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARRY as he\\n steps into the inner chamber. There is an oil-lamp burning on\\n a stone sarcophagus, the only light. The room appears empty.\\n\\n REVERSE ON HARRY. Behind him a figure emerges from a shadowed\\n alcove. It is Juno. She looks ethereal in the strange light.\\n\\n JUNO\\n \",\n \" CRASH!! The door lock is shattered by tremendous force and\\n THREE MEN burst into the room. We may recognize them as\\n workers from Juno's shop. They are wielding pistols and are\\n clearly part of Malik's terrorist brigade.\\n\\n Harry is still groggy, and he doesn't want to start anything\\n with Helen there, and risk her getting shot. He acquiesces as\\n they pull him to his feet.\\n\\n HELEN\\n He's got nothing to do\",\n \"bitch.\\n\\n JUNO\\n Sure. Say that now.\\n\\n Juno puts her arms around him and kisses him passionately. She\\n breaks, looking at Helen to savor the effect. Helen is\\n trembling with rage.\\n\\n JUNO\\n Thanks for everything, Harry. It\\n was good while it lasted.\\n\\n Juno crosses to the guard and takes a hand-grenade off his\\n belt. Then she goes to Helen and places it between her knees.\\n She p\",\n \"the WORKMAN we saw watching Harry earlier. He\\n catches up with Juno, who is going through the doors to the\\n office area. His name is MALIK.\\n\\n MALIK\\n Ms. Skinner? Can I speak to you\\n for a moment please, in your\\n office?\\n\\n His manner is self-effacing. Humble. He doesn't meet her\\n gaze. She nods and they go into the private office.\\n\\n\\n 59 INT. J\",\n \"the ship. A rusting\\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\\n an AEROSPATIALE HELICOPTER thunders toward them over the black\\n Caribbean water.\\n\\n The helicopter lands and Juno steps down from the front door.\\n The sliding door is opened and Akbar and the others pull a\\n groggy Harry and Helen out of the aircraft. They are covered\\n by hoods.\\n\\n Malik walks up to them and pulls their hoods off. Harry takes\",\n \" *\\n\\n HARRY\\n You're damaged goods, lady.\\n\\n Harry's words are beginning to be slightly slurred. The drugs\\n are taking effect.\\n\\n JUNO\\n (indicating Helen)\\n Did you tell her about us, Harry?\\n\\n HARRY\\n There is no us, you psychotic\\n bitch.\\n\\n JUNO\\n Sure. Say that now.\\n\\n Juno puts her arms around him and kisses\",\n \"ers a second or so long on the handshake.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Well, what's the point of\\n waiting?\\n\\n JUNO\\n I agree.\\n\\n There is definitely unholy magnetism here. She indicates for\\n Harry to walk with her and leads him through the suite of\\n offices. There are mounted fragments of ancient sculpture in\\n niches on either side, and beautifully restored mosaics and\\n tablets of hieroglyphics mounted on the walls.\\n\\n JUN\",\n \". Juno follows then into the bleak room.\\n Guards shackle them to steel chairs with handcuffs.\\n\\n A MAN enters the room carrying a small suitcase. He has skull-\\n like features. He opens the suitcase and Harry has a good view\\n of the contents: medical instruments, needle-probes, drills,\\n Dremel tools with saw blades.\\n\\n JUNO\\n This is Samir. See if you can\\n guess his specialty.\\n\\n HAR\",\n \"the\\n surface above him. Harry kicks hard, trying to swim beyond the\\n inferno above him so he can surface.\\n\\n\\n 266 EXT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n CLOSE ON HELEN, watching the burning wreckage of the gas truck.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Oh my God. Harry.\\n\\n A PISTOL ENTERS FRAME. Its muzzle taps the back of her head.\\n She gasps and turns to see-- JUNO, holding the\",\n \"67 EXT. UNDERWATER - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry is still swimming. He reaches the edge of the fire and\\n surfaces, gasping for breath. Treading water he scans the\\n dock.\\n\\n\\n 268 EXT. WATER OF THE DOCK - HARRY'S POV - NIGHT\\n\\n Amid the fire and smoke, he sees Juno walking Helen at gun\\n point toward a LIMO.\\n\\n\\n 269 EXT. WAREHOUSE - N\",\n \"with Ms. Skinner--\\n\\n Harry is extending his business card to the receptionist as\\n Juno breezes into the lobby from a corridor. She is dressed\\n sharply and looks as stunning as Harry remembers.\\n\\n JUNO\\n Harry! I thought I might see you\\n again. I just didn't except you\\n to call so soon.\\n\\n Juno lingers a second or so long on the handshake.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Well, what's the point of\\n \",\n \" JUNO\\n This is Samir. See if you can\\n guess his specialty.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Oral hygiene?\\n\\n JUNO\\n Not exactly.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (scared)\\n What's going on, Harry?\\n\\n JUNO\\n Samir is just going to ask Harry\\n a few questions. See, we're not\\n even sure which agency Harry\\n works for. \",\n \"?\\n\\n Juno turns to him in the flickering half-light. She moves\\n closer. Her eyes seem to glitter.\\n\\n JUNO\\n I've always been a collector at\\n heart. When I see something I\\n want, I have to have it.\\n\\n HARRY\\n And you have a reputation as\\n someone who gets what she wants.\\n\\n She is very close to him. Her eyes seem to glitter in the\\n light from the oil lamp. \",\n \"'ve set 'em up on\\n all of Juno's shipping agents,\\n her clients, and Faisil made up *\\n a list of possible contacts that\\n Crimson Jihad might have in this\\n country. Now all we can do is *\\n wait -- *\\n\\n He notices Harry is not listening.\\n\\n GIB\\n Is this national security stuff\\n boring you?\\n\\n HARRY\\n Put a tap on her phone\",\n \"He doesn't meet her\\n gaze. She nods and they go into the private office.\\n\\n\\n 59 INT. JUNO'S OFFICE - DAY\\n\\n MALIK comes in behind her and closes the door. The moment they\\n are away from public observation, his manner changes. His\\n humble posture straightens and his eyes flash intensely as he\\n approaches her. Without warning he SLAPS HER HARD ACROSS THE\\n FACE.\\n\\n MALIK\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"HELEN AND SIMON as she leans even closer.\\n\\n HELEN\\n What is it you want me to do?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Not here. I'll call you and\\n we'll rendezvous again.\\n (he looks around)\\n We have to leave separately, so\\n we aren't seen together. For\\n your safety.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You'll call me then?\\n\\n SIMON\\n \",\n \" HELEN\\n I understand.\\n\\n SIMON\\n It's my job to risk my life, but\\n not yours. I feel bad about\\n bringing you into this, but\\n you're the only one I can trust.\\n\\n Simon creates an atmosphere of danger. His haggardness give\\n him an air of mystery and desperation.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Where were you? On a... uh, *\\n mission?\\n\\n SIM\",\n \"\\n her way to a booth in the back. Sitting in the shadows, facing\\n the door, is SIMON. She sits down opposite him. He doesn't\\n smile or kiss her in greeting, but glances around the room like\\n he expects a threat to leap out at any moment.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Are you sure you weren't\\n followed?\\n\\n HELEN\\n I kept looking back, like you\\n taught me. I didn't see anyone.\\n\\n \",\n \" HELEN\\n I kept looking back, like you\\n taught me. I didn't see anyone.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Okay. It's just, things are a\\n bit hot for me right now. If I\\n get a signal...\\n (holds up a cigarette\\n lighter meaningfully)\\n I may have to leave suddenly.\\n\\n HELEN\\n I understand.\\n\\n SIMON\\n It's my job to risk my life, but\",\n \". CAFE - DAY\\n\\n HELEN LEANS CLOSE TO SIMON. She clearly is hanging on his\\n every word.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Tell me what happened?\\n\\n SIMON\\n I'm sorry, I can't.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You can trust me completely.\\n\\n SIMON\\n I know. But it would compromise\\n your safety too much to know\\n certain things.\\n\\n HELEN\\n \",\n \"It's your mystery man.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Simon? Ohmygod.\\n\\n Helen, normally the image of composure, goes suddenly fluttery\\n and nervous as a high-school girl. She takes the phone,\\n turning away from Allison.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Hello, Simon?\\n (pause)\\n It's all right. There's no one\\n around.\\n\\n Helen glimpses Allison with her ears cocked and gives her a\\n sc\",\n \"Y as he moves through the offices. He passes\\n through a library-like maze of records stacks. Through them he\\n can see Helen at her desk. But as he approaches, still\\n concealed, ALLISON puts a call on hold and whips around to\\n Helen.\\n\\n ALLISON\\n Helen!\\n (grinning\\n conspiratorially)\\n It's your mystery man.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Simon? Ohmygod.\\n\\n Helen, normally the image\",\n \"into the phone in hushed, urgent\\n tones.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Helen. I need your help. Can\\n you meet me tonight?\\n\\n INTERCUT WITH HELEN at her office.\\n\\n\\n 170 INT. HELEN'S OFFICE - DAY/FLASHBACK/INTERCUT\\n\\n HELEN\\n What's happened?\\n\\n SIMON\\n It's serious. That's all I can *\\n say\",\n \"I know. But it would compromise\\n your safety too much to know\\n certain things.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Right, of course. I was worried\\n when I didn't hear from you that\\n night.\\n\\n SIMON\\n It's strange. I knew I was in a\\n woman's thoughts when I was\\n shooting it out with those\\n assassins.\\n\\n\\n 144 INT. SEDAN - DAY\\n\\n HARRY\",\n \" SIMON\\n (quickly)\\n Just for the operation in Paris.\\n I need to be married. They'll be\\n looking for a man traveling\\n alone.\\n\\n HELEN\\n We're going to Paris?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Helen, there's a double agent in\\n my outfit... I don't know who.\\n There's no one I can trust.\\n Except you. Can you get away?\\n Just for two\",\n \" your safety.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You'll call me then?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Yes. Now go.\\n\\n 148\\n thru OMITTED *\\n 155\\n\\n PAGES 66-67 OMITTED *\\n\\n 156 EXT. STREET/CAR LOT - DAY\\n\\n Simon is cruising in the Corvette with the radio blasting.\\n Thinking he is\",\n \"Helen's red Accord. The door slides\\n open and Helen gets out, helped my black-garbed hands. She is\\n wearing her hood, which is whisked off by one of the hands.\\n She whirls in time to see the door slide shut and the van speed\\n off. She watches it drive off into the night.\\n\\n\\n 213 EXT. ROCK QUARRY - NIGHT\\n\\n The van pulls up near the edge of a large quarry. The door\\n opens and Simon is pushed out,\",\n \"freezes, staring at the page and WE HEAR THE\\n SOUND OF THE CONVERSATION OVERLAID:\\n\\n HELEN\\n Hello?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Helen? It's Simon. Is it safe\\n to talk?\\n\\n HELEN\\n Yes. Go ahead.\\n\\n\\n 121 INT. CAR - FLASHBACK SEQUENCE - DAY\\n\\n A man in his mid-thirties, sitting in a car SOMEPLACE (\",\n \" HELEN\\n Where were you? On a... uh, *\\n mission?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Ssshhh! We say Op. Covert *\\n operation. And this one got a\\n little rough.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Worse than Cairo? *\\n\\n SIMON\\n Cairo was a day at the beach next *\\n to this.\\n\\n\\n 138 INT. S\",\n \"\\n\\n SIMON\\n Did you read the papers\\n yesterday?\\n\\n HELEN\\n Yes.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Sometimes a story is a mask for\\n a covert operation. See-- two\\n men killed in a restroom, and two\\n unidentified men in a running *\\n shootout, ending at the *\\n Marriot...\\n\\n\\n 140 INT. SEDAN - DAY\\n\\n HARR\",\n \"was an American agent.\\n\\n\\n 201 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n INSIDE THE CONTROL room we can see Harry, Gib and, through the\\n glass, Helen. Their voices sound normal on this side.\\n\\n HARRY\\n How long have you been a member\\n of his faction?\\n\\n HELEN\\n I don't know anything about a\\n faction. I just met Simon... or\\n whatever his name is... \",\n \"\\n \\\"SIMON?!\\\"\\n\\n\\n 116 INT. HELEN'S OFFICE - DAY\\n\\n HELEN\\n You mean right now?\\n (she looks around\\n guiltily)\\n I guess so. Okay. I'll be right\\n there.\\n (pause)\\n Yes. I can't wait. Bye.\\n\\n She hangs up, a little flushed. Then turns to Allison.\\n\\n HELEN\\n \",\n \" She goes inside.\\n\\n\\n 136 INT. SEDAN - DAY\\n\\n HARRY\\n Give me audio.\\n\\n Gib hits a switch and they hear the clamor of the cafe at lunch\\n rush come over a speaker.\\n\\n\\n 137 INT. CAFE - DAY\\n\\n The restaurant is nothing fancy. A little dark. Helen makes\\n her way to a booth in the back. Sitting in the shadows, facing\\n the door, is SIMON. She sits\",\n \" 187\\n\\n\\n EXT. TRAILER PARK - NIGHT 188\\n\\n The headlights of the Vette light up a ratty single-wide\\n mobile home, on the outskirts of a TRAILER PARK off the\\n highway. Simon and Helen get out of the car.\\n\\n SIMON\\n My place in the city is too\\n hot right now. So is the\\n penthouse in New York. But\\n this place is secure.\\n\\n He takes\",\n \"to kill you? *\\n\\n SIMON\\n Three of them. Hardly worth *\\n talking about. Two won't bother *\\n me again.\\n\\n HELEN\\n And you chased one?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Something came over me, I just\\n had nail him, no matter what the *\\n risk. It was pretty hairy. I\\n thought he had me, a couple of *\\n times\"\n ],\n [\n \"Y as he moves through the offices. He passes\\n through a library-like maze of records stacks. Through them he\\n can see Helen at her desk. But as he approaches, still\\n concealed, ALLISON puts a call on hold and whips around to\\n Helen.\\n\\n ALLISON\\n Helen!\\n (grinning\\n conspiratorially)\\n It's your mystery man.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Simon? Ohmygod.\\n\\n Helen, normally the image\",\n \"\\n There's nothing interesting.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Nothing from Simon?\\n\\n Keeping one eye on the road, Harry riffles through the sheets.\\n He glances at the top of the last couple of sheets. He scowls.\\n Then SUDDENLY SLAMS ON THE BRAKES. The car dives to the curb,\\n bumping one wheel. Harry gets out and charges around to Gib's\\n side. Gib gets out, his expression blank.\\n\\n HARR\",\n \" HELEN\\n I understand.\\n\\n SIMON\\n It's my job to risk my life, but\\n not yours. I feel bad about\\n bringing you into this, but\\n you're the only one I can trust.\\n\\n Simon creates an atmosphere of danger. His haggardness give\\n him an air of mystery and desperation.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Where were you? On a... uh, *\\n mission?\\n\\n SIM\",\n \"It's your mystery man.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Simon? Ohmygod.\\n\\n Helen, normally the image of composure, goes suddenly fluttery\\n and nervous as a high-school girl. She takes the phone,\\n turning away from Allison.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Hello, Simon?\\n (pause)\\n It's all right. There's no one\\n around.\\n\\n Helen glimpses Allison with her ears cocked and gives her a\\n sc\",\n \"\\n\\n SIMON\\n Did you read the papers\\n yesterday?\\n\\n HELEN\\n Yes.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Sometimes a story is a mask for\\n a covert operation. See-- two\\n men killed in a restroom, and two\\n unidentified men in a running *\\n shootout, ending at the *\\n Marriot...\\n\\n\\n 140 INT. SEDAN - DAY\\n\\n HARR\",\n \" SIMON\\n I always have a couple on the\\n hook. You know. There's one\\n right now, I've got her panting\\n like a dog. It's great.\\n\\n Unconsciously, Harry's hands clench the wheel tighter.\\n\\n HARRY\\n What does she do?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Some kinda legal secretary of\\n something. Married to some\\n boring jerk.\\n\\n Harry takes a corner\",\n \"Simon, look out there. You see\\n that man? Notice how he's\\n looking at the cars. He's called\\n a customer. I know it's been a\\n while, but do you remember what\\n you're supposed to do when we\\n have a customer?\\n\\n\\n 160 EXT. CAR LOT - DAY\\n\\n Simon bounces jauntily up to Harry, talking before he's even\\n reached him.\\n\\n SIMON\\n \",\n \"same guy for years. Stuck\\n in a rut. They need some\\n release. The promise of\\n adventure. A hint of danger. I\\n create that for them.\\n\\n HARRY\\n So you're basically lying your\\n ass off the whole time? I\\n couldn't do it.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Well, think of it as playing a\\n role. It's fantasy. You have to\\n work on their dreams\",\n \"\\n her way to a booth in the back. Sitting in the shadows, facing\\n the door, is SIMON. She sits down opposite him. He doesn't\\n smile or kiss her in greeting, but glances around the room like\\n he expects a threat to leap out at any moment.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Are you sure you weren't\\n followed?\\n\\n HELEN\\n I kept looking back, like you\\n taught me. I didn't see anyone.\\n\\n \",\n \" I'll tell you all about it when\\n I get back tomorrow... if I live.\\n (pause)\\n Scared? Never! Except of you--\\n\\n During this, the owner of the place, DOUG WURTZ, has come out\\n of the back room and looked out at the lot. What Doug sees is--\\n\\n HARRY, browsing among the cars.\\n\\n DOUG turns from the window and bears down on Simon, who sees\\n him coming and speeds up his rap.\\n\\n \",\n \"ON\\n Some kinda legal secretary of\\n something. Married to some\\n boring jerk.\\n\\n Harry takes a corner too fast. The tires squealing.\\n\\n SIMON\\n And she could be so hot, if she\\n wanted to be. She's like a dying\\n plant that just needs a little\\n water.\\n\\n When Simon is looking, Harry is open and encouraging... they\\n laugh together... then when he looks away Harry goes snake-\\n eyed. He could kill Simon\",\n \"\\n\\n SIMON\\n Relax. There, that's better.\\n Let yourself slip into the role.\\n\\n He puts his other arm around her shoulders and pulls her slowly\\n into a kiss. This doesn't seem real to Helen. She finds\\n herself not pulling away. He lowers her slowly until they are\\n lying together on the bed.\\n\\n SIMON\\n There you go. That's right...\\n\\n He slides his hand up her thigh. The fingers, stroking in\\n\",\n \". See,\\n you're very good. You're a\\n natural at this.\\n\\n\\n 142 INT. SEDAN - DAY\\n\\n Harry starts to get it. Then is dawns on Gib.\\n\\n GIB\\n The guy's a fake! He's taking\\n credit for our moves.\\n\\n\\n 143 INT. CAFE - DAY\\n\\n HELEN LEANS CLOSE TO SIMON. She clearly is hanging on his\\n \",\n \" Well, think of it as playing a\\n role. It's fantasy. You have to\\n work on their dreams. Get them\\n out of their daily suburban grind\\n for a few hours.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Isn't that hard to keep up, in\\n the long run?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Doesn't matter. I like change.\\n You know, constant turnover. As\\n soon as I close the deal, it'\",\n \". Aahhh! Don't kill me.\\n I'm not a spy. I'm nothing. I'm\\n navel lint. I have to lie to\\n women to get laid. And I don't\\n score much. It's pathetic.\\n (he looks down)\\n See, look... would a spy pee\\n himself?\\n\\n Harry is finally sickened by his grovelling. He pulls Simon\\n away from the edge, then gestures with\",\n \".\\n\\n SIMON\\n What're we talking about here?\\n Pussy, right?\\n\\n HARRY\\n Absolutely.\\n\\n Simon laughs. Harry laughs. A big lusty, male-bonding kind of\\n laugh.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Well then this is a vital piece\\n of equipment. Used properly, it\\n can change your life. See, you\\n cruise. No racing. This ain't\\n a\",\n \"freezes, staring at the page and WE HEAR THE\\n SOUND OF THE CONVERSATION OVERLAID:\\n\\n HELEN\\n Hello?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Helen? It's Simon. Is it safe\\n to talk?\\n\\n HELEN\\n Yes. Go ahead.\\n\\n\\n 121 INT. CAR - FLASHBACK SEQUENCE - DAY\\n\\n A man in his mid-thirties, sitting in a car SOMEPLACE (\",\n \" I'm no\\n terrorist. Everything I said was\\n a lie... you have to believe me.\\n I'm actually a complete coward.\\n If I ever even saw a gun I'd--\\n\\n Harry whips his pistol out in one liquid motion and snaps the\\n muzzle right in front of Simon's eyes.\\n\\n SIMON\\n -- faint. Aahhh! Don't kill me.\\n I'm not a spy. I'm nothing. I'\",\n \"HELEN AND SIMON as she leans even closer.\\n\\n HELEN\\n What is it you want me to do?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Not here. I'll call you and\\n we'll rendezvous again.\\n (he looks around)\\n We have to leave separately, so\\n we aren't seen together. For\\n your safety.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You'll call me then?\\n\\n SIMON\\n \",\n \" It's killer. Look at me-- I'm\\n not that much to look at. No\\n really. I can be honest. But I\\n got 'em lining up, and not just\\n skanks, either. Some are.\\n\\n HARRY\\n So what's your angle?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Sorry. Trade secret.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (grinning)\\n Sure. Set me up and then don\"\n ],\n [\n \"wreckage on the bridge, the\\n whole unbelievable panorama.\\n\\n Then she looks at Harry and-- Grins. She's alive! And so is\\n he. And not only that, this is the biggest rush of her life.\\n Harry grins back. Surprised and pleased that she is more of a\\n soul-mate than he ever knew.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n\\n 294 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY\\n\\n ANGLE ON A HARRI\",\n \"cing gracefully to\\n the ocean below. It hits with an enormous explosion of water.\\n\\n\\n 293 INT. / EXT. BELL 206 COPTER - DAY\\n\\n HARRY PULLS HELEN up onto the skid with him, getting her\\n stable. She is gasping, holding on for dear life. She looks\\n down at the ocean, the burning wreckage on the bridge, the\\n whole unbelievable panorama.\\n\\n Then she looks at Harry and-- Grins. \",\n \"67 EXT. UNDERWATER - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry is still swimming. He reaches the edge of the fire and\\n surfaces, gasping for breath. Treading water he scans the\\n dock.\\n\\n\\n 268 EXT. WATER OF THE DOCK - HARRY'S POV - NIGHT\\n\\n Amid the fire and smoke, he sees Juno walking Helen at gun\\n point toward a LIMO.\\n\\n\\n 269 EXT. WAREHOUSE - N\",\n \"the other agents and runs after Helen.\\n She sprints through the trees, Harry pounding after her. He\\n grabs her and gets her in a headlock. She bites the hell out\\n of his arm. Harry yells and lets her go, just as-- Keough runs\\n up and matter-of-factly clips her on the head with his weapon.\\n Standard operating procedure. Which is why he can't understand\\n why Harry punches him, knocking him down.\\n\\n Harry supports a sagging Helen, gesturing sharply to\",\n \"A TERRORIST comes around a corner behind him,\\n shouts-- Harry dives for cover as the guy fires, but-- He trips\\n on a pipe and goes sprawling-- Losing the AK47, which slides\\n under some equipment and-- Seven terrorists run toward him,\\n with guns raised.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (to Helen)\\n SHOOT!!\\n\\n\\n 258 INT. WAREHOUSE - CATWALK - NIGHT\\n\\n HELEN fires a burst at the terrorists\",\n \"\\n the dash as the shattered edge of the causeway rushes toward\\n them--\\n\\n\\n 292 EXT. LIMO - DAY\\n\\n HARRY'S HAND grabs Helen's. He pulls her out of the car just\\n as the limo clears the edge. She is jerked through the\\n sunroof, screaming. The car falls away, arcing gracefully to\\n the ocean below. It hits with an enormous explosion of water.\\n\\n\\n 293 INT. / EX\",\n \"Giving Harry the\\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\\n\\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Don't move.\\n\\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\\n between her thigh\",\n \"the\\n surface above him. Harry kicks hard, trying to swim beyond the\\n inferno above him so he can surface.\\n\\n\\n 266 EXT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n CLOSE ON HELEN, watching the burning wreckage of the gas truck.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Oh my God. Harry.\\n\\n A PISTOL ENTERS FRAME. Its muzzle taps the back of her head.\\n She gasps and turns to see-- JUNO, holding the\",\n \"bitch.\\n\\n JUNO\\n Sure. Say that now.\\n\\n Juno puts her arms around him and kisses him passionately. She\\n breaks, looking at Helen to savor the effect. Helen is\\n trembling with rage.\\n\\n JUNO\\n Thanks for everything, Harry. It\\n was good while it lasted.\\n\\n Juno crosses to the guard and takes a hand-grenade off his\\n belt. Then she goes to Helen and places it between her knees.\\n She p\",\n \" sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\\n\\n\\n 312 EXT. ROOF - OVERLOOKING EDGE - DAY\\n\\n ANGLE LOOKING DOWN. Malik, Dana, the street far below. With\\n an unbelievable roar the Harrier sweeps in beneath Dana,\\n FILLING FRAME.\\n\\n\\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\\n\\n Harry has the canopy\",\n \"melt metal. Gib gives a\\n fatalistic shrug.\\n\\n GIB\\n Take Franklin, it's quicker.\\n\\n Harry makes the turn, squealing tires.\\n\\n GIB\\n You don't have any pictures\\n though, do ya. Huh? *\\n\\n\\n 173 EXT. BRIDGE - NIGHT\\n\\n Helen pulls her car under the bridge. She checks her watch.\\n Helen notices that her hand is shaking. She looks around and \",\n \"exist and yells at the terrorists to\\n remove the other weapons. Jackhammers tear into the stone\\n figures.\\n\\n Helen is just staring at Harry, her mouth open. He turns to\\n her, not knowing what to say. He shrugs sheepishly.\\n\\n HARRY\\n What can I say? I'm a spy.\\n\\n She just looks at him for a long time. She moves closer,\\n staring and staring, letting it sink in. Then she hauls off\\n and slugs him\",\n \"and seizes him in a two-\\n hand neck-breaker-- SNAP.\\n\\n Two more run around the corner of a building. Harry stomps his *\\n foot down on one of the AKs, which is lying across a log. It *\\n flips into the air and he catches it in firing position . . *\\n . and takes them out with two well-aimed bursts. Helen comes *\\n out of the shadows staring at Harry in amazement. His shirt is\\n ripped, he is scrat\",\n \"sees the chopper start an attack run. He comes out into\\n the open, going straight downhill like a rocket. The chopper\\n gets suckered in... trying to hit him, getting right down\\n behind him... and suddenly-- Harry slides to a stop in an\\n explosion of powder and whips up the rifle. P-P-P-POW! He\\n rakes a burst across the windshield. The startled pilot\\n swerves and-- Suddenly two tall pine trees are right in front\\n of him.\\n\\n K\",\n \"one of the guards puts a burst right\\n across Harry's path. Harry's skis are hit and he tumbles,\\n comes out of it... running down the hill like a juggernaut in\\n his heavy boots. He has lost the rifle somewhere in the snow.\\n\\n Harry takes cover behind the burning wreck of the downed\\n chopper, which still has its engine running. The ski patrol\\n opens fire from upslope. Rounds whacking against the disabled\\n helicopter.\\n\\n Harry looks down the slope and gets\",\n \"\\n opens fire from upslope. Rounds whacking against the disabled\\n helicopter.\\n\\n Harry looks down the slope and gets an idea. He jerks the\\n unconscious pilot out and pushes on the fuselage, rocking it.\\n It slips over the edge. He leaps inside as it topples forward\\n and slides down the slope.\\n\\n\\n 30 INT./ EXT. HELICOPTER - MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry adds throttle and works the footpedals,\",\n \"rier pilots stand nearby, watching the\\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\\n finger pressed in his ear, listening to his headset. He waves\\n to Harry to come to him.\\n\\n Harry detaches from Helen and walks over to him. Helen watches\\n him go... back to work. She glances over at the two Harrier\\n pilots.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (to the pilots)\\n That's my husband.\\n\\n HARRY goes into the hudd\",\n \"he is telling the truth.\\n\\n HELEN *\\n (grinning) *\\n It wore off.\\n\\n At that moment, they hear yelling from the cinder-block\\n building.\\n\\n HARRY\\n They found the bodies. Come on--\\n\\n\\n 249 EXT. SWAMP - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry takes her hand and they sprint for cover at the edge of\\n the mangrove swamp. A LIGHT HITS THEM\",\n \" CRASH!! The door lock is shattered by tremendous force and\\n THREE MEN burst into the room. We may recognize them as\\n workers from Juno's shop. They are wielding pistols and are\\n clearly part of Malik's terrorist brigade.\\n\\n Harry is still groggy, and he doesn't want to start anything\\n with Helen there, and risk her getting shot. He acquiesces as\\n they pull him to his feet.\\n\\n HELEN\\n He's got nothing to do\",\n \"\\n\\n Helen grabs her purse and rushes out, going right past the\\n stack where Harry is standing, dumbfounded. He looks like he\\n was slammed in the stomach with a lead pipe. His whole like is\\n unravelling.\\n\\n\\n 117 EXT. BUILDING - DAY\\n\\n Gib sees Harry crossing the street, holding his stomach. He\\n seems dazed. He is not so much walking to the car as wandering\\n in its general direction. He stops, in the street. \"\n ],\n [\n \" Why?\\n\\n FAISIL\\n (he shrugs)\\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\\n\\n TRILBY\\n This is impressive, gentlemen.\\n Of course, it would have been\\n even more impressive if you\\n actually knew where he was.\\n\\n HARRY\\n We'll get him.\\n\\n TRILBY\\n Yes. You will.\\n (meaning-- you damn\\n well better)\\n Harry,\",\n \" translates to you?!\\n\\n FAISIL\\n Sorry, sir. Uh... here's what we\\n got.\\n\\n He hits a button and a photo of Khaled fills a wall-screen.\\n\\n FAISIL\\n Jamal Khaled. We think he's\\n dirty so we raid his financial\\n files... Check it out...\\n\\n Faisil hits some buttons and a second screen lights up with the\\n data for their raid.\\n\\n FAISIL\\n \",\n \"ISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\\n winding mountain road a half-mile from the chateau, whose\\n lights are visible through the trees.\\n\\n Faisil jumps in and goes to the eyepiece of a huge telephoto\\n nightvision scope. The eerie green image lurches as he sweeps\\n the grounds, locating the boathouse.\\n\\n\\n 6 EXT. BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Conce\",\n \"the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People in\\n his wake look at each other like \\\"Do you know him?\\\" They\\n shrug, go on with their conversation. Harry moves through the\\n crowd. Scanning.\\n\\n HARRY\\n There's Daddy Petrobucks.\\n\\n HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\\n of the party and owner of the\",\n \" Harry is at one of the urinals, apparently taking a leak.\\n Mahmoud goes to the mirror. Starts combing his hair. He\\n doesn't much notice the pack of Camels sitting on the counter\\n nearby. Harry is whistling. Shaking himself.\\n\\n HARRY'S POV - In the video glasses Harry sees himself and\\n Mahmoud. Yusif comes into the restroom, seemingly ignoring\\n both Harry and Mahmoud, as if heading for the stalls. As he\\n passes behind\",\n \"\\n\\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cubicles.\\n There is a hushed quality here. People do not joke. They do\\n not hurry. There are a lot of computer screens displaying\\n information from around the world. It looks like a combination\\n of NASA mission control and FBI headquarters.\\n\\n Fast Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\\n cubicle.\\n\\n HARRY\\n \",\n \"commands. We see familiar \\\"windows\\n appear\\\". The words are all in Arabic characters.\\n\\n FAISIL\\n These are encrypted files, guys.\\n This is going to take me a few\\n minutes.\\n\\n\\n 14 OMITTED *\\n\\n\\n 15 INT. 2ND FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT *\\n\\n TIGHT ON LIBRARY DOOR. It opens a crack and a dental mirror *\\n comes out, looking around\",\n \"\\n Faisil hits some buttons and a second screen lights up with the\\n data for their raid.\\n\\n FAISIL\\n One hundred million in wire\\n transfers from the COMMERCE BANK *\\n INTERNATIONAL-- *\\n\\n GIB\\n Which we all know is a front for\\n certain nations to fund terrorist *\\n activities. Something big is *\\n going down --\\n\\n FAISIL *\\n And we\",\n \"- NIGHT\\n\\n Gib, listening, rolls his eyes. He looks through the night-\\n vision scope. Guards are running around outside the chateau.\\n Harry's stirred up the hornet's nest. Faisil is still jamming\\n at the keyboard.\\n\\n FAISIL\\n Okay, files are unlocked. I'm\\n in. I'm down, baby. I got my\\n hand up her dress and I'm going\\n for the gold. I'm--\",\n \"panting, snorting horse. It clomps around the tight elevator.\\n The woman is trying to crawl between her husband and the wall.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Can you just press the top floor,\\n please.\\n\\n The man nods mutely and complies. Their elevator takes off,\\n rising after Malik's.\\n\\n\\n 97 INT. HOTEL LOBBY - NIGHT\\n\\n Gib runs in with Faisil and Keough. They follow the path of\\n destruction,\",\n \" FAISIL\\n She lives in Rome, but she does\\n stuff here the Smithsonian and\\n has a lot of diplomatic\\n connections, so she has offices *\\n here. *\\n\\n Gib starts tangoing with an imaginary partner.\\n\\n GIB\\n Sounds like a job for a\\n specialist.\\n\\n\\n 52 INT. TASKER HOUSE/ KITCHEN - NIGHT (10PM)\\n\\n DING! Harry opens the mic\",\n \"\\\"GIB\\\" GIBSON, an overweight twenty-\\n year-man with a lived in looking face. Gib answers Harry via\\n his headset.\\n\\n GIB\\n Roger that. \\n (he covers the mike and\\n turns)\\n Hey, Fize! Get your butt in\\n here. Harry's inside.\\n\\n Outside, FAST FAISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\\n \",\n \"go. We can still make our\\n flight.\\n\\n As Faisil is getting into the van behind Harry, TWO GUARD TEAMS\\n ON SNOWMOBILES roar around the bend behind them, fish-tailing\\n on the ice. Faisil OPENS FIRE. One snowmobile swerves over\\n the embankment. The other pulls up broadside, and the guards\\n duck behind it. Gib floors it and the van roars down the\\n mountain. Faisil is still Ramboing\",\n \"sweating, wondering if he\\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\\n\\n MALIK\\n -- But now the Oppressed have *\\n been given a mighty sword, to *\\n strike back at their enemies. *\\n Unless the US pulls all military\\n forces out of the Persian Gulf\\n area, immediately and forever,\\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\\n one major US city each week until\\n these demands are\",\n \"Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\\n cubicle.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Come on, Fize. We're late for\\n our butt-grinding.\\n\\n Faisil gulps his coffee and hurries after them.\\n\\n\\n 49 INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY\\n\\n A dark and severe conference room, with large-screen computer\\n displays at one end. Glowering at one end of the long,\\n polished table, is\",\n \" I'm no\\n terrorist. Everything I said was\\n a lie... you have to believe me.\\n I'm actually a complete coward.\\n If I ever even saw a gun I'd--\\n\\n Harry whips his pistol out in one liquid motion and snaps the\\n muzzle right in front of Simon's eyes.\\n\\n SIMON\\n -- faint. Aahhh! Don't kill me.\\n I'm not a spy. I'm nothing. I'\",\n \" So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\\n\\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\\n chain from around his neck and holds\",\n \"button and a green light comes on.\\n\\n\\n 13 INT. VAN - NIGHT\\n\\n Gib and Faisil watch as their monitor screen lights with DATA\\n from Khaled's private computer.\\n\\n FAISIL\\n Affirmatory. We are in. *\\n\\n Fast Faisil is a computer ace. His fingers fly on the keyboard\\n as he types rapid key commands. We see familiar \\\"windows\\n appear\\\". The words are all in Arabic characters.\\n\\n FAISIL\\n \",\n \"he clicks through HEADSHOTS\\n of known terrorists. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. Harry is very\\n focussed. He stops. He goes back one. Studies the face.\\n\\n\\n 110 INT. ANALYSIS ROOM - TIGHT ON THE SCREEN - DAY\\n\\n A defiant looking Syrian with a full beard.\\n\\n HARRY holds up his hand, blocking out the beard, concentrating\\n on the eyes.\\n\\n HARR\",\n \"itaries, businessman and minor mid-\\n east nobility. They are a high-octane mixture of new oil money\\n and old European money, and run the spectrum from stodgy\\n bankers to playboy arms dealers.\\n\\n Harry strolls amiably among the glittering woman, the cigar\\n smoking men, casually snagging a glass of champagne and a\\n canape from the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People\"\n ],\n [\n \"HELEN AND SIMON as she leans even closer.\\n\\n HELEN\\n What is it you want me to do?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Not here. I'll call you and\\n we'll rendezvous again.\\n (he looks around)\\n We have to leave separately, so\\n we aren't seen together. For\\n your safety.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You'll call me then?\\n\\n SIMON\\n \",\n \" HELEN\\n I understand.\\n\\n SIMON\\n It's my job to risk my life, but\\n not yours. I feel bad about\\n bringing you into this, but\\n you're the only one I can trust.\\n\\n Simon creates an atmosphere of danger. His haggardness give\\n him an air of mystery and desperation.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Where were you? On a... uh, *\\n mission?\\n\\n SIM\",\n \" HELEN\\n Where were you? On a... uh, *\\n mission?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Ssshhh! We say Op. Covert *\\n operation. And this one got a\\n little rough.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Worse than Cairo? *\\n\\n SIMON\\n Cairo was a day at the beach next *\\n to this.\\n\\n\\n 138 INT. S\",\n \"\\n her way to a booth in the back. Sitting in the shadows, facing\\n the door, is SIMON. She sits down opposite him. He doesn't\\n smile or kiss her in greeting, but glances around the room like\\n he expects a threat to leap out at any moment.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Are you sure you weren't\\n followed?\\n\\n HELEN\\n I kept looking back, like you\\n taught me. I didn't see anyone.\\n\\n \",\n \" to go over there, honey.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Sure, hon.\\n\\n She walks unhurriedly out of the room. Behind her back, Harry\\n is grinning. The second Helen is out of his sight line, she\\n runs up the stairs. Harry waits a moment then picks up the\\n phone.\\n\\n\\n 226 INT. OMEGA SECTOR/ ELECTRONIC LAB -- NIGHT\\n\\n Gib is in a corner of the electronics lab, in an area dedicated\\n \",\n \"OMEGA SECTOR - NIGHT\\n\\n GIB, AT OMEGA SECTOR, uses the SPEECH SYNTHESIZER to disguise\\n his voice.\\n\\n GIB\\n Listen carefully. Go to the\\n Hotel Marquis in one hour. Pick\\n up an envelope marked Doris at\\n the front desk. And dress sexy.\\n\\n\\n 225 INT. TASKER HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n BACK ON HELEN as she reacts to that.\\n\\n \",\n \"*\\n eyes and they stay in the kiss. *\\n\\n They are in no danger, but the effect is stunning. The classic *\\n mushroom cloud appears at the horizon. Helen watches, awed,\\n the most glorious and terrifying sight of our age.\\n\\n HELEN *\\n That was some kiss. *\\n\\n The two young Harrier pilots stand nearby, watching the\\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\\n finger pressed in his\",\n \"It's your mystery man.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Simon? Ohmygod.\\n\\n Helen, normally the image of composure, goes suddenly fluttery\\n and nervous as a high-school girl. She takes the phone,\\n turning away from Allison.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Hello, Simon?\\n (pause)\\n It's all right. There's no one\\n around.\\n\\n Helen glimpses Allison with her ears cocked and gives her a\\n sc\",\n \". CAFE - DAY\\n\\n HELEN LEANS CLOSE TO SIMON. She clearly is hanging on his\\n every word.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Tell me what happened?\\n\\n SIMON\\n I'm sorry, I can't.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You can trust me completely.\\n\\n SIMON\\n I know. But it would compromise\\n your safety too much to know\\n certain things.\\n\\n HELEN\\n \",\n \" HELEN\\n I kept looking back, like you\\n taught me. I didn't see anyone.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Okay. It's just, things are a\\n bit hot for me right now. If I\\n get a signal...\\n (holds up a cigarette\\n lighter meaningfully)\\n I may have to leave suddenly.\\n\\n HELEN\\n I understand.\\n\\n SIMON\\n It's my job to risk my life, but\",\n \" She goes inside.\\n\\n\\n 136 INT. SEDAN - DAY\\n\\n HARRY\\n Give me audio.\\n\\n Gib hits a switch and they hear the clamor of the cafe at lunch\\n rush come over a speaker.\\n\\n\\n 137 INT. CAFE - DAY\\n\\n The restaurant is nothing fancy. A little dark. Helen makes\\n her way to a booth in the back. Sitting in the shadows, facing\\n the door, is SIMON. She sits\",\n \"rier pilots stand nearby, watching the\\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\\n finger pressed in his ear, listening to his headset. He waves\\n to Harry to come to him.\\n\\n Harry detaches from Helen and walks over to him. Helen watches\\n him go... back to work. She glances over at the two Harrier\\n pilots.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (to the pilots)\\n That's my husband.\\n\\n HARRY goes into the hudd\",\n \"Y as he moves through the offices. He passes\\n through a library-like maze of records stacks. Through them he\\n can see Helen at her desk. But as he approaches, still\\n concealed, ALLISON puts a call on hold and whips around to\\n Helen.\\n\\n ALLISON\\n Helen!\\n (grinning\\n conspiratorially)\\n It's your mystery man.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Simon? Ohmygod.\\n\\n Helen, normally the image\",\n \"T. TRAILER - NIGHT\\n\\n Gib comes out first with Helen. She struggles like a wildcat,\\n frankly surprising the hell out of Harry. Simon is brought\\n out, dazed and compliant. Helen whips around, KNEEING GIB\\n right in the balls. Gib OOPHS and doubles over, and Helen runs\\n for it.\\n\\n Harry leaves Simon with the other agents and runs after Helen.\\n She sprints through the trees, Harry pounding after her. He\\n grabs her and gets\",\n \"There's no one\\n around.\\n\\n Helen glimpses Allison with her ears cocked and gives her a\\n scowl and a shooing motion. Allison turns away, grinning.\\n\\n\\n 115 INT. OFFICE - STACKS OF RECORDS - DAY\\n\\n ON HARRY, behind the stacks, reacting. He silently mouths\\n \\\"SIMON?!\\\"\\n\\n\\n 116 INT. HELEN'S OFFICE - DAY\\n\\n H\",\n \"Helen pulls her car under the bridge. She checks her watch.\\n Helen notices that her hand is shaking. She looks around and *\\n the place seems deserted. She is about to leave when she sees\\n headlights flash briefly in the shadows.\\n\\n A red-and-white Vette emerges from the darkness and pulls up\\n next to her. Simon motions for her to get in quickly.\\n\\n\\n 174 EXT. PARKING LOT - THROUGH BINOCULARS - NIGHT\\n\\n \",\n \"I know. But it would compromise\\n your safety too much to know\\n certain things.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Right, of course. I was worried\\n when I didn't hear from you that\\n night.\\n\\n SIMON\\n It's strange. I knew I was in a\\n woman's thoughts when I was\\n shooting it out with those\\n assassins.\\n\\n\\n 144 INT. SEDAN - DAY\\n\\n HARRY\",\n \"Helen's red Accord. The door slides\\n open and Helen gets out, helped my black-garbed hands. She is\\n wearing her hood, which is whisked off by one of the hands.\\n She whirls in time to see the door slide shut and the van speed\\n off. She watches it drive off into the night.\\n\\n\\n 213 EXT. ROCK QUARRY - NIGHT\\n\\n The van pulls up near the edge of a large quarry. The door\\n opens and Simon is pushed out,\",\n \"into the phone in hushed, urgent\\n tones.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Helen. I need your help. Can\\n you meet me tonight?\\n\\n INTERCUT WITH HELEN at her office.\\n\\n\\n 170 INT. HELEN'S OFFICE - DAY/FLASHBACK/INTERCUT\\n\\n HELEN\\n What's happened?\\n\\n SIMON\\n It's serious. That's all I can *\\n say\",\n \" your safety.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You'll call me then?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Yes. Now go.\\n\\n 148\\n thru OMITTED *\\n 155\\n\\n PAGES 66-67 OMITTED *\\n\\n 156 EXT. STREET/CAR LOT - DAY\\n\\n Simon is cruising in the Corvette with the radio blasting.\\n Thinking he is\"\n ],\n [\n \"sweating, wondering if he\\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\\n\\n MALIK\\n -- But now the Oppressed have *\\n been given a mighty sword, to *\\n strike back at their enemies. *\\n Unless the US pulls all military\\n forces out of the Persian Gulf\\n area, immediately and forever,\\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\\n one major US city each week until\\n these demands are\",\n \"they\\n have the arming box and all *\\n equipment necessary to detonate\\n the four warheads. This is\\n absolutely the real thing,\\n gentlemen.\\n\\n The camera swings off Harry to Malik, standing before the rest\\n of the Jihad warriors, who are assembled behind the four bombs.\\n\\n MALIK\\n You have killed our women and *\\n children, bombed our cities from\\n afar like cowards, and dare to\\n call\",\n \"the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People in\\n his wake look at each other like \\\"Do you know him?\\\" They\\n shrug, go on with their conversation. Harry moves through the\\n crowd. Scanning.\\n\\n HARRY\\n There's Daddy Petrobucks.\\n\\n HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\\n of the party and owner of the\",\n \" Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\\n over the inside of the metal building.\\n\\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside\",\n \" Harry is at one of the urinals, apparently taking a leak.\\n Mahmoud goes to the mirror. Starts combing his hair. He\\n doesn't much notice the pack of Camels sitting on the counter\\n nearby. Harry is whistling. Shaking himself.\\n\\n HARRY'S POV - In the video glasses Harry sees himself and\\n Mahmoud. Yusif comes into the restroom, seemingly ignoring\\n both Harry and Mahmoud, as if heading for the stalls. As he\\n passes behind\",\n \"ISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\\n winding mountain road a half-mile from the chateau, whose\\n lights are visible through the trees.\\n\\n Faisil jumps in and goes to the eyepiece of a huge telephoto\\n nightvision scope. The eerie green image lurches as he sweeps\\n the grounds, locating the boathouse.\\n\\n\\n 6 EXT. BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Conce\",\n \"can trigger\\n this bomb instantly. All I have\\n to do is turn that key...\\n (he points fiercely at\\n the bomb)\\n ... and five million of your\\n people will die.\\n\\n The reporter glances down, nervously.\\n\\n REPORTER\\n What key?\\n\\n MALIK\\n (pointing like the\\n guy's blind)\\n That key right there!\\n\\n Malik looks down. The key is gone.\\n\\n\",\n \"to it, his eyes glistening. A hush has\\n fallen over the group.\\n\\n MALIK\\n Open it.\\n\\n The latches are released and the lid lifted. Inside is\\n machined metal object, roughly conical, about five feet long.\\n Malik signals to Harry to step closer and look.\\n\\n MALIK\\n Do you know what this is?\\n\\n HARRY\\n Can you give me a clue? It could\\n be a water heater for\",\n \"pillar of *\\n holy fire will rise at this place *\\n as a sign to out enemies. *\\n (Malik theatrically\\n turns the arming key)\\n It is done...\\n\\n Malik jumps out of the pit. He signals and terrorists pour\\n concrete into the pit, covering the bomb. He begins ranting\\n again.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Now no man can stop us. We are\\n set on our course. \",\n \" activities. Something big is *\\n going down --\\n\\n FAISIL *\\n And we know that a week ago four *\\n MIRV warheads were smuggled out *\\n of the former Soviet Republic of *\\n Kazakhstan . . .\\n\\n HARRY *\\n We think Khaled's group has *\\n bought the nukes and is bringing *\\n them to U.S\",\n \"real.\\n\\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\\n chain from around his neck and holds up a METAL ARMING KEY.\\n Then jumps down into the pit and inserts it into the warhead's\\n arming computer. Harry is listening intently, translating for\\n Helen.\\n\\n HARRY\\n In ninety minutes a pillar of *\\n holy fire will rise at this place *\\n as a sign to out enemies. *\",\n \".5 kilos of\\n enriched uranium, with a\\n plutonium trigger. The nominal\\n yield is 10 kilotons.\\n (in Arabic, subtitled) *\\n Release her and I'll cooperate.\\n\\n Malik lowers the knife from her jaw. He turns away from her\\n like she has ceased to exist and yells at the terrorists to\\n remove the other weapons. Jackhammers tear into the stone\\n figures.\\n\\n Helen\",\n \"\\\"GIB\\\" GIBSON, an overweight twenty-\\n year-man with a lived in looking face. Gib answers Harry via\\n his headset.\\n\\n GIB\\n Roger that. \\n (he covers the mike and\\n turns)\\n Hey, Fize! Get your butt in\\n here. Harry's inside.\\n\\n Outside, FAST FAISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\\n \",\n \"barely\\n see him move. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Three .45 slugs go through\\n Mahmoud's chest, shattering the mirror behind him. He flops on\\n his butt, slumping against the wall.\\n\\n Yusif, who is easily Harry's size, bellows and grabs his gun\\n arm. They smash against the walls, struggling for the gun.\\n Yusif, locked to Harry, hurls him against the stalls. They hit\\n a locked door,\",\n \"MALIK\\n If we were wrong about him...\\n then the last thing you see will\\n be your blood spraying in his\\n face.\\n\\n Harry steps forward, his face grim.\\n\\n HARRY\\n This is a Soviet MIRV-Six, from\\n an SS-22N launch vehicle. The\\n warhead contains 14.5 kilos of\\n enriched uranium, with a\\n plutonium trigger. The nominal\\n \",\n \"NEARBY, Akbar is going through the contents of Helen's handbag\\n and Harry's wallet. He rips open the bottom stitching and\\n pulls out the geo-positioning transmitter.\\n\\n AKBAR\\n Abu! Look at this! *\\n\\n Malik looks at the tracker and then smashes it to the floor.\\n Helen looks at the crushed transmitter. She stares at Harry\\n with dawning realization.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You bugged me?\",\n \"our women and *\\n children, bombed our cities from\\n afar like cowards, and dare to\\n call us terrorists--\\n\\n Over the image of Malik, a LOW-BATTERY warning begins to flash.\\n\\n CUT TO SCENE, as Malik speaks into the camera, which is head by\\n one of his men. The CAMERAMAN is sweating, wondering if he\\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\\n\\n MALI\",\n \" It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\\n but she is fairly composed now.\\n\\n DANA\\n I have to go to the bathroom.\\n\\n The terrorists ignore her. A terrified ACTION NEWS REPORTER\\n and his CAMERAMAN, under guard by TWO TERRORISTS, are hastily\\n setting up to shoot Malik.\\n CAMERAMAN\\n Tape is rolling.\\n\\n MALIK\\n This is a communique from Crimson\\n \",\n \"Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\\n and look toward the window.\\n\\n\\n 307 EXT. HIGH RISE - DAY\\n\\n RISING INTO VIEW, LIKE A GARGOYLE FROM HELL, IS THE HARRIER.\\n It fills the windows completely, hovering only a few feet\\n outside. The terrorists raise their AK-47s to fire just as\\n Harry hits the 20mm nose-cannon.\\n\\n\\n 308\",\n \" So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\\n\\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\\n chain from around his neck and holds\"\n ],\n [\n \" Harry is at one of the urinals, apparently taking a leak.\\n Mahmoud goes to the mirror. Starts combing his hair. He\\n doesn't much notice the pack of Camels sitting on the counter\\n nearby. Harry is whistling. Shaking himself.\\n\\n HARRY'S POV - In the video glasses Harry sees himself and\\n Mahmoud. Yusif comes into the restroom, seemingly ignoring\\n both Harry and Mahmoud, as if heading for the stalls. As he\\n passes behind\",\n \"the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People in\\n his wake look at each other like \\\"Do you know him?\\\" They\\n shrug, go on with their conversation. Harry moves through the\\n crowd. Scanning.\\n\\n HARRY\\n There's Daddy Petrobucks.\\n\\n HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\\n of the party and owner of the\",\n \" Why?\\n\\n FAISIL\\n (he shrugs)\\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\\n\\n TRILBY\\n This is impressive, gentlemen.\\n Of course, it would have been\\n even more impressive if you\\n actually knew where he was.\\n\\n HARRY\\n We'll get him.\\n\\n TRILBY\\n Yes. You will.\\n (meaning-- you damn\\n well better)\\n Harry,\",\n \"sweating, wondering if he\\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\\n\\n MALIK\\n -- But now the Oppressed have *\\n been given a mighty sword, to *\\n strike back at their enemies. *\\n Unless the US pulls all military\\n forces out of the Persian Gulf\\n area, immediately and forever,\\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\\n one major US city each week until\\n these demands are\",\n \"to it, his eyes glistening. A hush has\\n fallen over the group.\\n\\n MALIK\\n Open it.\\n\\n The latches are released and the lid lifted. Inside is\\n machined metal object, roughly conical, about five feet long.\\n Malik signals to Harry to step closer and look.\\n\\n MALIK\\n Do you know what this is?\\n\\n HARRY\\n Can you give me a clue? It could\\n be a water heater for\",\n \"\\n\\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cubicles.\\n There is a hushed quality here. People do not joke. They do\\n not hurry. There are a lot of computer screens displaying\\n information from around the world. It looks like a combination\\n of NASA mission control and FBI headquarters.\\n\\n Fast Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\\n cubicle.\\n\\n HARRY\\n \",\n \"NEARBY, Akbar is going through the contents of Helen's handbag\\n and Harry's wallet. He rips open the bottom stitching and\\n pulls out the geo-positioning transmitter.\\n\\n AKBAR\\n Abu! Look at this! *\\n\\n Malik looks at the tracker and then smashes it to the floor.\\n Helen looks at the crushed transmitter. She stares at Harry\\n with dawning realization.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You bugged me?\",\n \"He doesn't meet her\\n gaze. She nods and they go into the private office.\\n\\n\\n 59 INT. JUNO'S OFFICE - DAY\\n\\n MALIK comes in behind her and closes the door. The moment they\\n are away from public observation, his manner changes. His\\n humble posture straightens and his eyes flash intensely as he\\n approaches her. Without warning he SLAPS HER HARD ACROSS THE\\n FACE.\\n\\n MALIK\\n \",\n \"itaries, businessman and minor mid-\\n east nobility. They are a high-octane mixture of new oil money\\n and old European money, and run the spectrum from stodgy\\n bankers to playboy arms dealers.\\n\\n Harry strolls amiably among the glittering woman, the cigar\\n smoking men, casually snagging a glass of champagne and a\\n canape from the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People\",\n \"*\\n Now he's formed his own splinter\\n faction called CRIMSON JIHAD.\\n\\n GIB *\\n Guess he thought the other\\n terrorist groups were too warm\\n and fuzzy for his taste.\\n\\n FAISIL\\n They call him \\\"The Sand Spider\\\". *\\n\\n TRILBY\\n Why?\\n\\n FAISIL\\n (he shrugs)\\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\\n\",\n \"And sudden pandemonium as Malik roars through the lobby, with\\n Harry charging along behind him. Malik guns it across the\\n lounge, knocking over tables. He gets air at the top of the\\n steps going up to the RESTAURANT.\\n\\n Harry swerves to avoid a panicking guest and finds himself\\n careening toward the JAZZ QUARTET at a full gallop. He gathers\\n the animal and LEAPS (in glorious SLOW MOTION) over the\\n bassist, who is\",\n \"Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\\n men, clearly CRIMSON JIHAD TERRORISTS are busy at various\\n activities. Many of them carry AK47 assault rifles.\\n\\n MALIK is supervizing them as they finish unloading a tarp-\\n covered object about 15 feet high from the ship. A rusting\\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\\n an AERO\",\n \"There are three men in the car. YUSIF and MAHMOUD are in the\\n front, with Mahmoud driving. In the back, shadowed, we can\\n just make out ABU MALIK. Yusif is massively built, with a body\\n like a beer-keg. Mahmoud is skinny and intense.\\n\\n \\n 73 OMITTED *\\n\\n\\n 74 INT./EXT. GIB'S CAR - MALL - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry puts\",\n \"ISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\\n winding mountain road a half-mile from the chateau, whose\\n lights are visible through the trees.\\n\\n Faisil jumps in and goes to the eyepiece of a huge telephoto\\n nightvision scope. The eerie green image lurches as he sweeps\\n the grounds, locating the boathouse.\\n\\n\\n 6 EXT. BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Conce\",\n \"barely\\n see him move. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Three .45 slugs go through\\n Mahmoud's chest, shattering the mirror behind him. He flops on\\n his butt, slumping against the wall.\\n\\n Yusif, who is easily Harry's size, bellows and grabs his gun\\n arm. They smash against the walls, struggling for the gun.\\n Yusif, locked to Harry, hurls him against the stalls. They hit\\n a locked door,\",\n \"\\\"GIB\\\" GIBSON, an overweight twenty-\\n year-man with a lived in looking face. Gib answers Harry via\\n his headset.\\n\\n GIB\\n Roger that. \\n (he covers the mike and\\n turns)\\n Hey, Fize! Get your butt in\\n here. Harry's inside.\\n\\n Outside, FAST FAISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\\n \",\n \"Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\\n cubicle.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Come on, Fize. We're late for\\n our butt-grinding.\\n\\n Faisil gulps his coffee and hurries after them.\\n\\n\\n 49 INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY\\n\\n A dark and severe conference room, with large-screen computer\\n displays at one end. Glowering at one end of the long,\\n polished table, is\",\n \" Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\\n over the inside of the metal building.\\n\\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside\",\n \"doors and opening for a bellman coming out with\\n bags and Malik blasts past him into the lobby.\\n\\n HARRY ducks, galloping through the doors after him.\\n\\n\\n 93 INT. HOTEL - NIGHT\\n\\n Acres of marble and red carpet. Liveries porters. Guests\\n dressed for evening, the men in suits, diamonds on the women.\\n And sudden pandemonium as Malik roars through the lobby, with\\n Harry charging along behind him. Malik guns it across the\\n \",\n \" So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\\n\\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\\n chain from around his neck and holds\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n guy's blind)\\n That key right there!\\n\\n Malik looks down. The key is gone.\\n\\n MALIK\\n (to his men)\\n Someone has stolen the key!\\n\\n He turns, looking around wildly. Malik then sees Dana running\\n for the stairwell to the roof. He pulls a pistol and shoots at\\n her, but hits the wall as she bangs through the door. He runs\\n after her.\\n\\n\\n 305 EXT.\",\n \"the\\n ARMING KEY by its chain. Dangling it over the edge. He\\n signals to his men not to fire.\\n\\n DANA\\n (terrified, but\\n thinking)\\n You shoot me, this'll fall.\\n\\n Malik advances slowly, his eyes glistening ferally. She backs\\n up a step with each of his, moving along the edge of the roof.\\n Malik keeps his pistol aimed at her chest.\\n\\n DANA\\n Don't come any\",\n \"boom of a small crane, used for lifting\\n building supplies. Careful to keep the key dangling over open\\n space, Dana climbs up on the lattice-work boom and moves out\\n beyond the edge of the building, never taking her eyes off\\n Malik. She is hyperventilating, terrified, but thinking\\n clearly.\\n\\n Malik steps up on the crane, crawling out after her. He knows\\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\\n game which will end when\",\n \" sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\\n\\n\\n 312 EXT. ROOF - OVERLOOKING EDGE - DAY\\n\\n ANGLE LOOKING DOWN. Malik, Dana, the street far below. With\\n an unbelievable roar the Harrier sweeps in beneath Dana,\\n FILLING FRAME.\\n\\n\\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\\n\\n Harry has the canopy\",\n \"her. He knows\\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\\n game which will end when she reaches the end of the boom. Dana\\n puts the key between her teeth so she can hang on better. It\\n is windy and the boom is swinging.\\n\\n\\n 306 INT. 20TH FLOOR - DAY\\n\\n The Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\\n and look toward the window.\\n\\n\\n 307 \",\n \"along\\n the edge.\\n\\n MALIK\\n Come on, child. Give me the key.\\n (smiling)\\n Don't you want to live? I give\\n you my word.\\n\\n DANA\\n No way you whacko.\\n\\n She reaches the corner of the building. Her back touches\\n something. it is the boom of a small crane, used for lifting\\n building supplies. Careful to keep the key dangling over open\\n space, D\",\n \"ana. *\\n\\n HARRY *\\n My Dana!?\\n\\n GIB\\n They must have grabbed her during\\n the night... we didn't know.\\n Sorry, Harry, I--\\n\\n\\n 298 EXT. HARRIER - DAY\\n\\n But Harry is already moving. He sprints toward the nearest\\n Harrier, witch is idling nearby. Gib runs after him.\\n\\n GIB\\n Harry! We'\",\n \"pit directly under Dana.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (shouting)\\n Let go baby! I've got you!\\n Daddy's got you!\\n\\n\\n 314 EXT. ROOF / HARRIER - DAY\\n\\n Malik lunges for her wrist. She screams and lets go-- Dana\\n drops and hits the windshield of the hovering jet-- Harry grabs\\n her with his left hand, right hand still on the stick-- He\\n holds her until she can get\",\n \", but hits the wall as she bangs through the door. He runs\\n after her.\\n\\n\\n 305 EXT. BUILDING / ROOF - DAY\\n\\n ON THE ROOF, Malik bursts through the stairwell door. His TWO\\n MEN have followed him. Malik stops suddenly when he sees--\\n Dana standing at the edge of the roof. She is holding the\\n ARMING KEY by its chain. Dangling it over the edge. He\\n signals to his men not to fire.\\n\",\n \"1 EXT. ROOF - CRANE BOOM - DAY\\n\\n MALIK IS STILL ADVANCING out the crane boom. Dana slips as she\\n backs up, toppling off the boom. She is hanging now by her\\n hands over a 20 story drop.\\n\\n Malik is almost to her. He needs a hand free to grab her. He\\n sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\\n\\n\\n 312 EXT. ROOF -\",\n \"edge of the roof.\\n Malik keeps his pistol aimed at her chest.\\n\\n DANA\\n Don't come any closer. I'll drop\\n it! I swear to God.\\n\\n MALIK\\n If you drop it, I will have no\\n reason not to kill you.\\n\\n He advances, calling her bluff. She backs away from him along\\n the edge.\\n\\n MALIK\\n Come on, child. Give me the key.\\n (\",\n \" the cops sealing off the area. *\\n He renezvous'd there with about *\\n a dozen more faction members. *\\n They're barricaded on the *\\n twentieth floor.\\n (he gets very serious) *\\n Harry, they have a hostage. It's *\\n Dana. *\\n\\n HARRY *\\n My Dana!?\\n\\n G\",\n \" It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\\n but she is fairly composed now.\\n\\n DANA\\n I have to go to the bathroom.\\n\\n The terrorists ignore her. A terrified ACTION NEWS REPORTER\\n and his CAMERAMAN, under guard by TWO TERRORISTS, are hastily\\n setting up to shoot Malik.\\n CAMERAMAN\\n Tape is rolling.\\n\\n MALIK\\n This is a communique from Crimson\\n \",\n \". Her heart stops.\\n\\n DANA\\n Oh my Gooooood.\\n\\n\\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\\n\\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\\n front of her friends.\\n\\n HARRY\\n There are going to be some\",\n \"ISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\\n winding mountain road a half-mile from the chateau, whose\\n lights are visible through the trees.\\n\\n Faisil jumps in and goes to the eyepiece of a huge telephoto\\n nightvision scope. The eerie green image lurches as he sweeps\\n the grounds, locating the boathouse.\\n\\n\\n 6 EXT. BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Conce\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\\n\\n Harry has the canopy up. Malik sees Harry, ten feet below.\\n His eyes narrow with an all-consuming rage. He glances at the\\n pistol on the beam. Back at the girl, the key in her teeth--\\n So close.\\n\\n Harry maneuvers the cockpit directly under Dana.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (shouting)\\n Let go baby! I've\",\n \"?\\n\\n HELEN\\n Out.\\n\\n Dana is momentarily puzzled by the reversal of roles.\\n\\n\\n 166 INT. ENTRY WAY - NIGHT\\n\\n ON HELEN, checking herself in the hall mirror. She looks at\\n her big dowdy purse. Hating it suddenly. She pulls her\\n pocketbook out and rummages on the top shelf of the hall closet\\n for a small handbag, then charges out.\\n\\n 167 OMITTED\\n\\n\\n\",\n \" So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\\n\\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\\n chain from around his neck and holds\",\n \"guards\\n duck behind it. Gib floors it and the van roars down the\\n mountain. Faisil is still Ramboing on full-auto.\\n\\n FAISIL\\n This is GREAT!! I never get to\\n shoot!\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n\\n 32 EXT. DULLES AIRPORT - NIGHT\\n\\n An American Airlines 747 touches down amid puffs of tire smoke.\\n\\n\\n 33 EXT. SUBURBAN D.C\",\n \"never had one\\n of these.\\n\\n They are in her room, which is your basic room from Hell.\\n Pearl Jam posters, and an unbelievable clutter of junk,\\n magazines and cheap jewelry. Harry kisses her on the cheek, to\\n which she submits dutifully. He looks at his watch and heads\\n for the door.\\n\\n HARRY\\n You better hurry. You're going\\n to be late for school.\\n\\n Harry hurries out and Dana considers the Swiss village\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n Faisil hits some buttons and a second screen lights up with the\\n data for their raid.\\n\\n FAISIL\\n One hundred million in wire\\n transfers from the COMMERCE BANK *\\n INTERNATIONAL-- *\\n\\n GIB\\n Which we all know is a front for\\n certain nations to fund terrorist *\\n activities. Something big is *\\n going down --\\n\\n FAISIL *\\n And we\",\n \" (to Harry)\\n So now it's Tasker? Not\\n Renquist?\\n\\n\\n 239 INT. G-3 JET - NIGHT\\n\\n They enter the luxurious passenger cabin of the plane. Helen\\n has never seen anything like this.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Look, Harry's not part of this.\\n He's just a sales rep.\\n\\n JUNO\\n No, my dear, he is a federal\\n agent. He killed two of\",\n \".\\n\\n Harry and Gib step up to the combination retinal-thumbprint-\\n voice scanners. Harry presses his thumb against a black-glass\\n plate for laser scan, and looks into the eye-piece of the\\n retinal scanner.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Harry Tasker. One zero zero two\\n four.\\n\\n GIB\\n Albert Gibson. Three four nine\\n nine one.\\n\\n Their clearance appears on a monitor on Janice's desk.\\n\\n J\",\n \"ISE the terrorists have barricaded themselves\\n on the twentieth floor. There are 12 TERRORISTS, all with\\n automatic weapons. Occasionally one of them will fire a burst\\n down a stairwell with an AK-47. Miami-Dade SWAT team members\\n are deployed in the stairwell but are keeping their distance.\\n\\n\\n 304 INT. HIGH RISE - ON THE 21ST FLOOR - DAY\\n\\n Malik is sequestered with the bomb. It sits on\",\n \"HELEN\\n Kettleman, Barnes and McGrath.\\n I'm a legal secretary.\\n\\n VOICE (HARRY)\\n Of course. Mrs. Tasker. And\\n what were you going with the\\n international terrorist, Carlos\\n the Jackal? Taking dictation?\\n\\n HELEN\\n He said he was an American agent.\\n\\n\\n 201 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n INSIDE THE\",\n \"\\n Tasker, so I suggest you\\n cooperate. If we want to know\\n the most intimate details of your\\n life, you'd better tell us.\\n\\n Helen glowers at the mirror. Her hands are shaking and she\\n hates it that they can probably see she is afraid.\\n\\n HELEN\\n My husband is a good man.\\n\\n GIB\\n But he's not exactly ringing your\\n bell lately, right? I mean--\\n\\n Harry covers the m\",\n \"some crates, and we see that his video-\\n tapes demands are running on CNN. Harry's face fills the\\n screen, verifying the the nuclear weapons as a real threat. He\\n is identified at the bottom of the screen as HARRY TASKER,\\n ATOMIC ENERGY COMMISSION. Dana stares at her father's face on\\n the national news. It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\\n but she is fairly composed now.\\n\\n DANA\\n \",\n \"mouth and turns slowly, scanning... revealing:\\n\\n HARRY TASKER. Our hero. Harry floats with just his eyes above\\n the surface, silent as a water snake, as a guard passes on a\\n footpath nearby.\\n\\n After a few beats Harry slips out of his tanks and fins,\\n letting them sink, and climbs the frozen ladder onto the dock.\\n He moves like a ninja into the shadows of the boathouse.\\n Opening a WATERPROOF BAG, he pulls out a walky\",\n \"She rolls toward him, giving him a sleepy hug\\n and a kiss.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (a drowsy murmur)\\n Hi, honey. How was the flight?\\n\\n HARRY\\n Fine, honey. Stay asleep.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Okay.\\n\\n As she drifts off, Harry puts his head on the pillow and stares\\n at the ceiling.\\n\\n DISSOLVE TO:\\n\\n\\n 37 INT. TASKER\",\n \"and Harry are working out of brief-case mobile com-units.\\n Several Omega agents with headsets are reading maps, giving\\n commands, coordinating the evacuation, mobilizing their own\\n forces. The energy is controlled but very high, everybody\\n talking at once. This is the day they all have trained for.\\n It is impressive to watch.\\n\\n GIB\\n --you tell the son of bitch this\\n is Bright Boy Alert. Repeat,\\n a Bright Boy Alert. And I need\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cubicles.\\n There is a hushed quality here. People do not joke. They do\\n not hurry. There are a lot of computer screens displaying\\n information from around the world. It looks like a combination\\n of NASA mission control and FBI headquarters.\\n\\n Fast Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\\n cubicle.\\n\\n HARRY\\n \",\n \"O\\n How?\\n\\n MALIK\\n Use the gifts that Allah has\\n given you.\\n\\n\\n 60 INT. TEKTEL SYSTEMS OFFICES - DUSK *\\n\\n The phone rings on the desk of CHARLENE, Harry's secretary at *\\n Tektel Systems, the permanent front-company for Omega Sector. *\\n\\n SECRETARY\\n Hello, Tektel Systems. Mr. *\\n Tasker'\",\n \" Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\\n over the inside of the metal building.\\n\\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside\",\n \"again.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You know her?\\n\\n Juno signals with her eyes and the terrorists march the\\n prisoners toward the plane.\\n\\n JUNO\\n Who's your little friend?\\n\\n HELEN\\n I'm Helen Tasker. Harry's my\\n husband. And you are?\\n\\n JUNO\\n (to Harry)\\n So now it's Tasker? Not\\n Renquist?\\n\\n\\n 239\",\n \"Where?\\n\\n SIMON\\n The same place. One o'clock. I\\n have to go now. See you\\n tomorrow. Remember, I need you.\\n\\n\\n 123 INT. LISTENING ROOM - DAY\\n\\n The last line is played ON HARRY, reading. Now he is seeing\\n the proof in black and white. He slowly crumples the paper in\\n one hand, his expression dark.\\n\\n\\n 124 INT. TASKER HO\",\n \" FAISIL\\n She lives in Rome, but she does\\n stuff here the Smithsonian and\\n has a lot of diplomatic\\n connections, so she has offices *\\n here. *\\n\\n Gib starts tangoing with an imaginary partner.\\n\\n GIB\\n Sounds like a job for a\\n specialist.\\n\\n\\n 52 INT. TASKER HOUSE/ KITCHEN - NIGHT (10PM)\\n\\n DING! Harry opens the mic\",\n \"Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\\n men, clearly CRIMSON JIHAD TERRORISTS are busy at various\\n activities. Many of them carry AK47 assault rifles.\\n\\n MALIK is supervizing them as they finish unloading a tarp-\\n covered object about 15 feet high from the ship. A rusting\\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\\n an AERO\",\n \" 210 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n INSIDE THE OBSERVATION ROOM Harry states at her. He smiles.\\n\\n GIB\\n Now what?\\n\\n HARRY\\n (leaning forward to the\\n mike)\\n There is only one solution to\\n your problem, Mrs. Tasker. You\\n must work for us.\\n\\n GIB\\n (whispering to Harry)\\n Oh shit.\",\n \"4 INT. TEKTEL OFFICES - DAY *\\n\\n Harry and Gib come out of an elevator on the 12th floor. *\\n Behind the receptionist is a burnished metal sign which reads *\\n TEKTEL SYSTEMS. They cross a open floor of cubicle spaces. *\\n There is the hum of activity everywhere. A normal day at a *\\n normal business. *\\n\\n SECRETARY *\\n Morning, Mr. Tasker. \",\n \"he clicks through HEADSHOTS\\n of known terrorists. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. Harry is very\\n focussed. He stops. He goes back one. Studies the face.\\n\\n\\n 110 INT. ANALYSIS ROOM - TIGHT ON THE SCREEN - DAY\\n\\n A defiant looking Syrian with a full beard.\\n\\n HARRY holds up his hand, blocking out the beard, concentrating\\n on the eyes.\\n\\n HARR\"\n ],\n [\n \"mouth and turns slowly, scanning... revealing:\\n\\n HARRY TASKER. Our hero. Harry floats with just his eyes above\\n the surface, silent as a water snake, as a guard passes on a\\n footpath nearby.\\n\\n After a few beats Harry slips out of his tanks and fins,\\n letting them sink, and climbs the frozen ladder onto the dock.\\n He moves like a ninja into the shadows of the boathouse.\\n Opening a WATERPROOF BAG, he pulls out a walky\",\n \"\\n Tasker, so I suggest you\\n cooperate. If we want to know\\n the most intimate details of your\\n life, you'd better tell us.\\n\\n Helen glowers at the mirror. Her hands are shaking and she\\n hates it that they can probably see she is afraid.\\n\\n HELEN\\n My husband is a good man.\\n\\n GIB\\n But he's not exactly ringing your\\n bell lately, right? I mean--\\n\\n Harry covers the m\",\n \"She rolls toward him, giving him a sleepy hug\\n and a kiss.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (a drowsy murmur)\\n Hi, honey. How was the flight?\\n\\n HARRY\\n Fine, honey. Stay asleep.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Okay.\\n\\n As she drifts off, Harry puts his head on the pillow and stares\\n at the ceiling.\\n\\n DISSOLVE TO:\\n\\n\\n 37 INT. TASKER\",\n \" (to Harry)\\n So now it's Tasker? Not\\n Renquist?\\n\\n\\n 239 INT. G-3 JET - NIGHT\\n\\n They enter the luxurious passenger cabin of the plane. Helen\\n has never seen anything like this.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Look, Harry's not part of this.\\n He's just a sales rep.\\n\\n JUNO\\n No, my dear, he is a federal\\n agent. He killed two of\",\n \"knots.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (to the pilots)\\n Roger, Mike Three Five, you are\\n cleared to engage. Be advised,\\n your targets have Stingers and\\n light machine guns.\\n\\n\\n 276 INT. COCKPIT OF LEAD HARRIER - DAY\\n\\n The pilot, like all jet pilots, seems icy calm.\\n\\n PILOT\\n Copy that, Bright Boy command.\\n (to his wingman)\\n Tally\",\n \"some crates, and we see that his video-\\n tapes demands are running on CNN. Harry's face fills the\\n screen, verifying the the nuclear weapons as a real threat. He\\n is identified at the bottom of the screen as HARRY TASKER,\\n ATOMIC ENERGY COMMISSION. Dana stares at her father's face on\\n the national news. It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\\n but she is fairly composed now.\\n\\n DANA\\n \",\n \"and Harry are working out of brief-case mobile com-units.\\n Several Omega agents with headsets are reading maps, giving\\n commands, coordinating the evacuation, mobilizing their own\\n forces. The energy is controlled but very high, everybody\\n talking at once. This is the day they all have trained for.\\n It is impressive to watch.\\n\\n GIB\\n --you tell the son of bitch this\\n is Bright Boy Alert. Repeat,\\n a Bright Boy Alert. And I need\\n \",\n \"calm.\\n\\n PILOT\\n Copy that, Bright Boy command.\\n (to his wingman)\\n Tally ho.\\n\\n\\n 277 EXT. OVERSEAS HIGHWAY - DAY\\n\\n The terrorists see the Harriers approaching on a low attack\\n run, and scramble to get out their Stingers.\\n\\n The Harriers open fire with cannons and rocket pods on the\\n trucks below. The 20mm cannons rip the ocean on either side of\\n\",\n \"make\\n the minimum safe distance we need\\n an airlift on, immediately--\\n\\n Gib whips around to Harry, lowering his headset mike.\\n\\n GIB\\n I can get 3 Marine Corps Harriers\\n here in about 12 minutes.\\n They're on maneuvers out of Boca\\n Chica.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (checking his watch)\\n Get 'em. I'll brief them on the\\n way in.\\n\\n\",\n \"\\n (checking his watch)\\n Get 'em. I'll brief them on the\\n way in.\\n\\n\\n 273 EXT. OVERSEAS HIGHWAY - DAY\\n\\n TRAFFIC on the two causeways is almost non-existent this early\\n in the morning. The three rental trucks, followed by the limo\\n about a mile back, are almost the only vehicles.\\n\\n\\n 274 INT. LIMO - DAY\\n\\n Juno has a 9mm\",\n \" *\\n Yessir, but . . . *\\n\\n GIB *\\n That's coming right from the *\\n President, Captain. *\\n\\n PILOT *\\n Yessir. Uh . . . sir? You're *\\n going to have to sign for the *\\n aircraft. *\\n\\n GIB *\\n I'll sign for\",\n \"oy. The Aerospatiale passes\\n overhead, hugging the deck, headed for Miami at 150 knots.\\n\\n\\n 271 EXT. DOCK/ WAREHOUSE - DAWN\\n\\n It looks like the aftermath of a battle... burning wreckage,\\n black smoke, bodies. Not a living soul around. The smoke\\n swirls as two big BELL 206 HELICOPTERS settle on the middle of\\n the dock. GIB jumps out of the nearest with an AR-\",\n \" I need to borrow this thing for\\n a few minutes.\\n\\n He pushes past the pilot before the guy can react.\\n\\n PILOT\\n Excuse me . . . sir?! *\\n\\n GIB *\\n Force Comm cleared you to give us *\\n total cooperation, right? *\\n\\n PILOT *\\n Yessir, but . . . *\\n\\n GIB *\\n \",\n \"4 INT. TEKTEL OFFICES - DAY *\\n\\n Harry and Gib come out of an elevator on the 12th floor. *\\n Behind the receptionist is a burnished metal sign which reads *\\n TEKTEL SYSTEMS. They cross a open floor of cubicle spaces. *\\n There is the hum of activity everywhere. A normal day at a *\\n normal business. *\\n\\n SECRETARY *\\n Morning, Mr. Tasker. \",\n \"the ice above.\\n\\n\\n 4 EXT. CANAL AND BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n A dock extends into the frozen canal, just behind a large\\n boathouse. There is a faint chipping sound. The ice breaks\\n quietly, and the pieces are slid back. A head appears, in a\\n rubber drysuit hood. The DIVER slips the regulator out of his\\n mouth and turns slowly, scanning... revealing:\\n\\n HARRY TASKER. Our hero. Harry floats with just\",\n \"UT TO:\\n\\n\\n 294 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY\\n\\n ANGLE ON A HARRIER, landing in full-hover on the causeway. The\\n shriek of the jet engine is enormous. It bounces down onto its\\n wheels like a big inscect. The other remaining Harrier is\\n already down, behind it.\\n\\n\\n 295 EXT. BELL 206 - DAY\\n\\n TRACKING past burning wreckage to Harry's Bell 2\",\n \"sees the chopper start an attack run. He comes out into\\n the open, going straight downhill like a rocket. The chopper\\n gets suckered in... trying to hit him, getting right down\\n behind him... and suddenly-- Harry slides to a stop in an\\n explosion of powder and whips up the rifle. P-P-P-POW! He\\n rakes a burst across the windshield. The startled pilot\\n swerves and-- Suddenly two tall pine trees are right in front\\n of him.\\n\\n K\",\n \".\\n\\n Harry and Gib step up to the combination retinal-thumbprint-\\n voice scanners. Harry presses his thumb against a black-glass\\n plate for laser scan, and looks into the eye-piece of the\\n retinal scanner.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Harry Tasker. One zero zero two\\n four.\\n\\n GIB\\n Albert Gibson. Three four nine\\n nine one.\\n\\n Their clearance appears on a monitor on Janice's desk.\\n\\n J\",\n \"- PREDAWN\\n\\n There is just enough light to see some geography. The island\\n is very tiny. Running right over it and to the horizon in both\\n directions is the OVERSEAS HIGHWAY. The terrorists' trucks\\n rumble up an on-ramp past a sign that says MIAMI - 110. The\\n limo is the last member of the convoy. The Aerospatiale passes\\n overhead, hugging the deck, headed for Miami at 150 knots.\\n\\n\",\n \" *\\n equipment cases. Faisil looks up from a computer screen *\\n suddenly.\\n\\n FAISIL *\\n We've lost the signal.\\n\\n Gib, who has been pacing the aisile whirls to the screen. *\\n\\n GIB\\n Son of a bitch! Where?\\n\\n FAISIL *\\n It's an island in the Keys, out *\\n past Marathon. *\\n\\n Gib goes\"\n ],\n [\n \" Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\\n\\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\\n is captivatingly beautiful\",\n \"rier pilots stand nearby, watching the\\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\\n finger pressed in his ear, listening to his headset. He waves\\n to Harry to come to him.\\n\\n Harry detaches from Helen and walks over to him. Helen watches\\n him go... back to work. She glances over at the two Harrier\\n pilots.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (to the pilots)\\n That's my husband.\\n\\n HARRY goes into the hudd\",\n \"the lapels, and\\n slams him against the car.\\n\\n HARRY\\n STOP. CHEERING. ME. UP.\\n\\n We see in Harry's rage, frustration, and hurt confusion a\\n vulnerability we never expected to see.\\n\\n GIB\\n What'dya expect Harry? She's a\\n flesh and blood woman. And\\n you're never there. It was only\\n a matter of time.\\n\\n Harry sags. His\",\n \"Giving Harry the\\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\\n\\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Don't move.\\n\\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\\n between her thigh\",\n \"Harry is open and encouraging... they\\n laugh together... then when he looks away Harry goes snake-\\n eyed. He could kill Simon with one punch. He's visualizing\\n his wife getting porked by this guy.\\n\\n HARRY\\n But with you, she gets to be hot,\\n right?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Red hot. Her thighs steam.\\n\\n They laugh together. Harry's laugh is getting a bit brittle.\\n He speeds up, his knuckles\",\n \"HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\\n of the party and owner of the chateau. He is fat and animated,\\n greeting guests with a flourish. As Harry watches he warmly *\\n greets a beautiful WOMAN. They become absorbed in a *\\n conversation.\\n\\n The woman glances up and sees Harry checking her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\",\n \"her husband. Harry looks up from\\n behind cover-- to see all seven dead. Now it's his turn to be\\n amazed. He signals to her to run... get off the exposed\\n catwalk. She makes it through the door to the outside stairs\\n as bullets start hitting the steel walls behind her.\\n\\n\\n 259 INT. WAREHOUSE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT\\n\\n A TERRORIST with a knife runs at the unarmed Harry. Harry\\n snatches up a jack-hammer and\",\n \"minutes and she's ready to bear\\n his children\\n (to Harry)\\n What's your exit strategy Twinkle\\n Toes?\\n\\n\\n 24 EXT. CHATEAU/ FRONT ENTRANCE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry nods to the security men at the door as he strides\\n confidently through. He goes down the steps to the broad\\n terrace above the motor court. Behind Harry, a GUARD lowers\\n his walky talky and starts after him.\\n\\n GU\",\n \"her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\\n\\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\\n\\n\\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\\n\\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\\n cross\",\n \"\\n\\n HARRY\\n It can't be.\\n\\n GIB\\n Same thing happened to me with\\n wife two. I had no idea until I\\n came home and the house was\\n empty. I mean empty. She even\\n took the ice-cube trays from the\\n fridge. What kind of person\\n would think of that?\\n\\n HARRY\\n (not listening)\\n I still don't believe it.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n\\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\\n is captivatingly beautiful, and her gaze is piercing.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (indicating the bas-\\n relief)\\n Magnificent, isn't it?\\n\\n WOMAN\\n Yes. Hi, I'm Juno Skinner. I\\n thought I knew most of Khaled's\\n friends but I don't believe I\\n know you.\",\n \"wreckage on the bridge, the\\n whole unbelievable panorama.\\n\\n Then she looks at Harry and-- Grins. She's alive! And so is\\n he. And not only that, this is the biggest rush of her life.\\n Harry grins back. Surprised and pleased that she is more of a\\n soul-mate than he ever knew.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n\\n 294 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY\\n\\n ANGLE ON A HARRI\",\n \"has just\\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\\n\\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry\",\n \"\\n Yes, that's it.\\n\\n TIGHT ON Harry's eyes as he studies her. His game, meant to\\n give her a dangerous fantasy, is actually turning him on\\n mightily. He is amazed to see her playing the role, getting\\n into it. This is not the Helen is thought he knew for sixteen\\n years.\\n\\n HARRY (TAPE)\\n Now, lie on the bed and close\\n your eyes.\\n\\n She does. Harry rises and goes to her, bringing\",\n \"toward the back of the warehouse and then leaves. Harry is\\n left alone in the vast space.\\n\\n Only a few lights are on, rendering the place somewhat Gothic.\\n Harry strolls in the direction the workman pointed. Ahead of\\n him, is the huge facade of a royal tomb. There is a flickering\\n light inside. A shadow moves across the wall in the entryway.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Hello?\\n\\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARR\",\n \". Her heart stops.\\n\\n DANA\\n Oh my Gooooood.\\n\\n\\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\\n\\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\\n front of her friends.\\n\\n HARRY\\n There are going to be some\",\n \" He wanted me to go with him on a\\n mission, to pose as him wife.\\n\\n HARRY\\n And you agreed?\\n\\n HELEN\\n Yes.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (amazed)\\n Why?\\n\\n Helen searches herself for the explanation.\\n\\n HELEN\\n I don't know. I guess I needed\\n something...\\n\\n HARRY\\n What did you need?\\n\\n HEL\",\n \"SSHHH. It's all he can do. He bends over her and\\n brings his lips slowly down to her. He touches them to hers so\\n slowly that she barely knows he is kissing her. Then he takes\\n her in a passionate kiss.\\n\\n And she grabs the lamp on the bedside table and SMASHES IT OVER\\n HIS HEAD. Harry flies off onto the floor, groaning and\\n semiconscious.\\n\\n Helen flips on the light and grabs her clothes, starting to\\n \",\n \"itaries, businessman and minor mid-\\n east nobility. They are a high-octane mixture of new oil money\\n and old European money, and run the spectrum from stodgy\\n bankers to playboy arms dealers.\\n\\n Harry strolls amiably among the glittering woman, the cigar\\n smoking men, casually snagging a glass of champagne and a\\n canape from the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People\",\n \"and seizes him in a two-\\n hand neck-breaker-- SNAP.\\n\\n Two more run around the corner of a building. Harry stomps his *\\n foot down on one of the AKs, which is lying across a log. It *\\n flips into the air and he catches it in firing position . . *\\n . and takes them out with two well-aimed bursts. Helen comes *\\n out of the shadows staring at Harry in amazement. His shirt is\\n ripped, he is scrat\"\n ],\n [\n \"Harry's head. Harry grabs\\n his daughter with his left hand, holding her with all his\\n strength and he-- Jinks the stick hard, just as-- Malik opens\\n fire, but-- The plane tilts wildly and Malik topples, screaming--\\n He slides along the wing, and falls over the leading edge--\\n Only to catch himself on the only available hand-hold-- The\\n last Sidewinder missile.\\n\\n\\n 322 EXT. HARRIER / SIDEWINDER - DAY\\n\\n Harry\",\n \"her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\\n\\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\\n\\n\\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\\n\\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\\n cross\",\n \" microphone, belting out a punchy cover of the old Cream classic\\n \\\"Sunshine of Your Love\\\". The guitar parts have been industrial-\\n ized, and it actually sounds pretty hip.\\n\\n Harry watches from the shadows, standing behind a pillar not\\n far from the stage. Watching his daughter gyrating in the\\n spotlight. His reaction is hard to read.\\n\\n\\n 219 INT. WAREHOUSE - CLOSE UP OF CIRCUIT-BREAKER - DAY\\n\\n TIGHT ON\",\n \" HARRY\\n Did I tell you about the time we\\n first met?\\n\\n She looks up at him, puzzled?\\n\\n HARRY\\n You were quite young at the time.\\n All wet and still attached to\\n your mom by a cord. You opened\\n your eyes and looked right at me.\\n And I knew then I would always\\n love you with all my heart.\\n\\n Dana stares at her father with a dawning awareness. This is\\n not\",\n \"minutes and she's ready to bear\\n his children\\n (to Harry)\\n What's your exit strategy Twinkle\\n Toes?\\n\\n\\n 24 EXT. CHATEAU/ FRONT ENTRANCE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry nods to the security men at the door as he strides\\n confidently through. He goes down the steps to the broad\\n terrace above the motor court. Behind Harry, a GUARD lowers\\n his walky talky and starts after him.\\n\\n GU\",\n \". I know Harry.\\n\\n Helen hangs up the phone just as Dana strides through the room,\\n putting on a jacket and heading for the front door.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Where are you going?\\n\\n DANA\\n Out. If Dad doesn't care enough\\n about us to be here on his\\n birthday, then why should I care?\\n I'm going to a movie.\\n\\n HELEN\\n No you're not. You're going to\\n\",\n \". Her heart stops.\\n\\n DANA\\n Oh my Gooooood.\\n\\n\\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\\n\\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\\n front of her friends.\\n\\n HARRY\\n There are going to be some\",\n \"\\n fantasy daughter, he thinks\\n everything's fine. But it's not\\n fine. Nothing's fine.\\n\\n Dana runs out the kitchen by the other door. Helen runs\\n after her.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Dana! Come back here!\\n\\n The slamming door is her answer.\\n\\n\\n 80 EXT. MALL - MEN'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Yusif sees Harry, up ahead, enter a public restroom. He\\n\",\n \"his own daughter.\\n\\n\\n 319 EXT. BUILDING - DAY\\n\\n The helicopter appears around the corner, guns blazing in the\\n doors. Harry pivots the plane and FIRES THE NOSE CANNON. The\\n helicopter is riddled. It tilts and plummets, auto-rotating\\n out of control.\\n\\n\\n 320 EXT. BUILDING - ANGLE AT STREETLEVEL - DAY\\n\\n As the copter hits the ground and explodes.\",\n \"never had one\\n of these.\\n\\n They are in her room, which is your basic room from Hell.\\n Pearl Jam posters, and an unbelievable clutter of junk,\\n magazines and cheap jewelry. Harry kisses her on the cheek, to\\n which she submits dutifully. He looks at his watch and heads\\n for the door.\\n\\n HARRY\\n You better hurry. You're going\\n to be late for school.\\n\\n Harry hurries out and Dana considers the Swiss village\",\n \" Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\\n\\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\\n is captivatingly beautiful\",\n \"Giving Harry the\\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\\n\\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Don't move.\\n\\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\\n between her thigh\",\n \" Harry is still shocked by his *\\n daughter's behavior.\\n\\n GIB\\n Kids. Ten seconds of joy.\\n Thirty years of misery.\\n\\n HARRY\\n She knows not to steal. I've\\n taught her better than that.\\n\\n GIB\\n Yeah, but you're not her parents,\\n anymore, you and Helen. Her\\n parents are Axl Rose and Madonna.\\n The five minutes you spend a day\\n \",\n \"the lapels, and\\n slams him against the car.\\n\\n HARRY\\n STOP. CHEERING. ME. UP.\\n\\n We see in Harry's rage, frustration, and hurt confusion a\\n vulnerability we never expected to see.\\n\\n GIB\\n What'dya expect Harry? She's a\\n flesh and blood woman. And\\n you're never there. It was only\\n a matter of time.\\n\\n Harry sags. His\",\n \"and\\n wrong.\\n\\n Dana studies something really fascinating at the end of a\\n fingernail.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Dana, are you listening to me?\\n\\n DANA\\n Yeah, Dad.\\n\\n HARRY\\n You know you can always talk to\\n me. Right? Whatever is going on\\n in your life, your mom and I'll\\n understand.\\n\\n DANA\\n Okay, Dad.\\n\\n H\",\n \"RENT as she looks back and sees Harry following\\n her. She is mortified that her father is actually tailing her\\n\\n DANA\\n Oh my God! I think that's my\\n dad!\\n\\n TRENT\\n Hang on!\\n\\n Trent downshifts and punches it. The nimble little bike\\n screams as it zips between cars.\\n\\n\\n 106 INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY\\n\\n HARRY\\n \",\n \"\\n You're going to stay in school.\\n Do you understand?\\n\\n DANA\\n Why? So I can wind up like you?\\n What's the point?\\n\\n You think Harry's going to really rain on her parade. But he\\n doesn't. He becomes very tender. He pushes the hair back from\\n her face.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Did I tell you about the time we\\n first met?\\n\\n She looks up at him,\",\n \" INT. HARRIER - COCKPIT - DAY\\n\\n HARRY PULLS DANA into the cockpit, settling her on his lap.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Don't touch the stick, baby.\\n\\n She stares at her father in amazement. He banks away from the\\n building, accelerating the jet. He grins at her. Raises one\\n eyebrow. Woggles the plane's wings.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Hi, pump\",\n \"has just\\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\\n\\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry\",\n \" DANA\\n Great! You're going to believe\\n that fat dweeb Mr. Hardy over\\n your own daughter.\\n\\n HARRY\\n I'm not sure what to believe\\n anymore, young lady. You never\\n used to lie to me. But lately\\n you don't seem to know the\\n difference between right and\\n wrong.\\n\\n Dana studies something really fascinating at the end of a\\n fingernail.\\n\\n HAR\"\n ],\n [\n \"he clicks through HEADSHOTS\\n of known terrorists. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. Harry is very\\n focussed. He stops. He goes back one. Studies the face.\\n\\n\\n 110 INT. ANALYSIS ROOM - TIGHT ON THE SCREEN - DAY\\n\\n A defiant looking Syrian with a full beard.\\n\\n HARRY holds up his hand, blocking out the beard, concentrating\\n on the eyes.\\n\\n HARR\",\n \"\\n\\n HARRY holds up his hand, blocking out the beard, concentrating\\n on the eyes.\\n\\n HARRY\\n That's him.\\n\\n\\n 111 INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY\\n\\n Harry slaps photos down in front of Trilby.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Abu Kaleem Malik.\\n\\n GIB\\n (reading from a file)\\n Hardcore, highly fanatical, ultra- *\\n fundamental\",\n \"the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People in\\n his wake look at each other like \\\"Do you know him?\\\" They\\n shrug, go on with their conversation. Harry moves through the\\n crowd. Scanning.\\n\\n HARRY\\n There's Daddy Petrobucks.\\n\\n HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\\n of the party and owner of the\",\n \"terrorists return fire at Harry--\\n Who sprints from cover to cover, reaching a side door-- Where\\n he rakes one of the passing trucks with a burst-- But\\n terrorists behind him in the building have a clear shot and\\n rounds hit the wall next to him as he-- Dives through the door--\\n\\n\\n 260 EXT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n --landing outside. He takes cover behind an aircraft REFUELING\\n TRUCK. Not a good place. He is pinned down by automatic\",\n \" Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\\n over the inside of the metal building.\\n\\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside\",\n \" So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\\n\\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\\n chain from around his neck and holds\",\n \"exist and yells at the terrorists to\\n remove the other weapons. Jackhammers tear into the stone\\n figures.\\n\\n Helen is just staring at Harry, her mouth open. He turns to\\n her, not knowing what to say. He shrugs sheepishly.\\n\\n HARRY\\n What can I say? I'm a spy.\\n\\n She just looks at him for a long time. She moves closer,\\n staring and staring, letting it sink in. Then she hauls off\\n and slugs him\",\n \" I'm no\\n terrorist. Everything I said was\\n a lie... you have to believe me.\\n I'm actually a complete coward.\\n If I ever even saw a gun I'd--\\n\\n Harry whips his pistol out in one liquid motion and snaps the\\n muzzle right in front of Simon's eyes.\\n\\n SIMON\\n -- faint. Aahhh! Don't kill me.\\n I'm not a spy. I'm nothing. I'\",\n \" Harry's eyes are slitted down lethally as he stares across the\\n street.\\n\\n\\n 159 INT. CAR LOT SALES OFFICE - DAY (LATE AFTERNOON) *\\n\\n TIGHT ON A TAPE PLAYER, with Simon's hand adjusting the volume.\\n The sound of traffic noise and middle-eastern music blares from\\n the deck.\\n\\n PULL BACK to see Simon on the phone, talking loud, as if over\\n the din of a real place.\",\n \"her husband. Harry looks up from\\n behind cover-- to see all seven dead. Now it's his turn to be\\n amazed. He signals to her to run... get off the exposed\\n catwalk. She makes it through the door to the outside stairs\\n as bullets start hitting the steel walls behind her.\\n\\n\\n 259 INT. WAREHOUSE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT\\n\\n A TERRORIST with a knife runs at the unarmed Harry. Harry\\n snatches up a jack-hammer and\",\n \"behind\\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\\n vicious street-fighter moves. Harry looks upslope as--\\n\\n A service gate opens in the perimeter wall and TEAMS OF\\n SECURITY MEN in white snow-suits pour out, some on skis, some\\n on SNOWMOBILES. A HELICOPTER rises over the wall in a blast of\\n swirling snow. Its xenon lights rake through the trees,\\n casting lur\",\n \"is being loaded with conventional\\n weapons, including machine guns and several HAND-LAUNCHED\\n STINGER MISSILES. One of the nukes has been lowered into a pit\\n cut in the concrete floor. Malik and most of the terrorists\\n are gathered around it.\\n\\n A GUARD, F.G. on the catwalk, watches intently from the\\n railing. So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC\",\n \"you doing there?\\n\\n HARRY\\n You wouldn't believe me.\\n\\n A pistol muzzle is jammed hard behind Helen's ear.\\n\\n TERRORIST LEADER\\n Talk again, I kill you.\\n\\n They are hustled across a loading dock to a RENTAL VAN waiting *\\n with the door open. A fourth terrorist slides the van door *\\n shut after they get in and gets in behind the wheel. The van *\\n takes off.\\n\\n \",\n \" He acquiesces as\\n they pull him to his feet.\\n\\n HELEN\\n He's got nothing to do with this.\\n It's me you want, right?\\n\\n HARRY\\n (to lead TERRORIST)\\n Let the hooker go. She's not\\n important.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Harry, be quiet. Let me handle\\n this.\\n\\n LEAD TERRORIST\\n Shutup, both of you.\",\n \"they\\n have the arming box and all *\\n equipment necessary to detonate\\n the four warheads. This is\\n absolutely the real thing,\\n gentlemen.\\n\\n The camera swings off Harry to Malik, standing before the rest\\n of the Jihad warriors, who are assembled behind the four bombs.\\n\\n MALIK\\n You have killed our women and *\\n children, bombed our cities from\\n afar like cowards, and dare to\\n call\",\n \" The thug leader cuffs her across the head to shut her up.\\n\\n HELEN\\n That was unnecessary.\\n\\n\\n 236 INT. HOTEL BASEMENT - NIGHT *\\n\\n A stairwell door opens and the terrorists rush Harry and Helen *\\n through the basement labyrinth. *\\n\\n HELEN\\n What were you doing there?\\n\\n HARRY\\n You wouldn't believe me.\\n\\n A pistol muzzle is j\",\n \". The van doors open and the hostages are\\n brought out. Harry sees a long black LIMO pulling up behind\\n the van. The driver, an enormous man names AKBAR, hurries to\\n open the passenger door. A slender pair of ankles emerge,\\n followed by the rest of Juno Skinner, looking devastatingly\\n beautiful but now quite sinister.\\n\\n To Helen it is like a living James Bond film, with the jet, the\\n limo, the terrorists, and now an exotic femme fatale,\",\n \" CRASH!! The door lock is shattered by tremendous force and\\n THREE MEN burst into the room. We may recognize them as\\n workers from Juno's shop. They are wielding pistols and are\\n clearly part of Malik's terrorist brigade.\\n\\n Harry is still groggy, and he doesn't want to start anything\\n with Helen there, and risk her getting shot. He acquiesces as\\n they pull him to his feet.\\n\\n HELEN\\n He's got nothing to do\",\n \".\\n\\n HARRY\\n (In Arabic/ subtitled)\\n Where's the john around here? I\\n have to take a major leak.\\n\\n The guard points warily down the corridor. Harry nods and\\n heads that way, back toward the party.\\n\\n\\n 16 INT. MAIN HALL/ STAIRCASE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n\",\n \" the slides the car broadside, blocking both lanes. Malik locks\\n up the brakes and the bike slides to a stop. Then the\\n terrorist pops the clutch and wheels the bike around-- Jumping\\n the curb and going straight at the entrance of THE HYATT\\n REGENCY HOTEL.\\n\\n Bellmen and guests scatter as the bike roars right at them.\\n The sliding doors and opening for a bellman coming out with\\n bags and Malik blasts past him into the lobby.\\n\\n HARRY d\"\n ],\n [\n \"Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\\n men, clearly CRIMSON JIHAD TERRORISTS are busy at various\\n activities. Many of them carry AK47 assault rifles.\\n\\n MALIK is supervizing them as they finish unloading a tarp-\\n covered object about 15 feet high from the ship. A rusting\\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\\n an AERO\",\n \"0 EXT. ROOF - NEAR HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n Malik's TWO REMAINING MEN run to the helicopter, gesticulating\\n to the pilot to get ready to take off. The pilot revs the\\n turbine and the rotor whirls faster. The two men jump in,\\n picking up M-60 machine guns.\\n\\n\\n 311 EXT. ROOF - CRANE BOOM - DAY\\n\\n MALIK IS STILL ADVANCING out\",\n \"horns echo up the glass canyons.\\n\\n\\n 302 EXT. STREET - DAY\\n\\n ANGLE AT STREETLEVEL as cops use bullhorns and bad attitudes to\\n clear the street around the building, setting up a perimeter\\n two blocks away.\\n\\n\\n 303 INT. HIGH RISE - DAY\\n\\n INSIDE THE HIGH RISE the terrorists have barricaded themselves\\n on the twentieth floor. There are 12 TERRORISTS, all with\\n \",\n \"And sudden pandemonium as Malik roars through the lobby, with\\n Harry charging along behind him. Malik guns it across the\\n lounge, knocking over tables. He gets air at the top of the\\n steps going up to the RESTAURANT.\\n\\n Harry swerves to avoid a panicking guest and finds himself\\n careening toward the JAZZ QUARTET at a full gallop. He gathers\\n the animal and LEAPS (in glorious SLOW MOTION) over the\\n bassist, who is\",\n \"sweating, wondering if he\\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\\n\\n MALIK\\n -- But now the Oppressed have *\\n been given a mighty sword, to *\\n strike back at their enemies. *\\n Unless the US pulls all military\\n forces out of the Persian Gulf\\n area, immediately and forever,\\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\\n one major US city each week until\\n these demands are\",\n \".\\n He just keeps going, floor after floor, using the time to\\n think.\\n\\n The older woman is still just staring, trying not to breathe.\\n The horse flicks her in the face with his tail.\\n\\n\\n 99 INT. /EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT *\\n\\n The rooftop has a spectacular view of the city. TRACKING WITH *\\n Malik as he comes out of the elevator, rides to the far edge of *\\n the roof and slides to a stop. \",\n \" Harry is at one of the urinals, apparently taking a leak.\\n Mahmoud goes to the mirror. Starts combing his hair. He\\n doesn't much notice the pack of Camels sitting on the counter\\n nearby. Harry is whistling. Shaking himself.\\n\\n HARRY'S POV - In the video glasses Harry sees himself and\\n Mahmoud. Yusif comes into the restroom, seemingly ignoring\\n both Harry and Mahmoud, as if heading for the stalls. As he\\n passes behind\",\n \" sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\\n\\n\\n 312 EXT. ROOF - OVERLOOKING EDGE - DAY\\n\\n ANGLE LOOKING DOWN. Malik, Dana, the street far below. With\\n an unbelievable roar the Harrier sweeps in beneath Dana,\\n FILLING FRAME.\\n\\n\\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\\n\\n Harry has the canopy\",\n \"boom of a small crane, used for lifting\\n building supplies. Careful to keep the key dangling over open\\n space, Dana climbs up on the lattice-work boom and moves out\\n beyond the edge of the building, never taking her eyes off\\n Malik. She is hyperventilating, terrified, but thinking\\n clearly.\\n\\n Malik steps up on the crane, crawling out after her. He knows\\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\\n game which will end when\",\n \"doors and opening for a bellman coming out with\\n bags and Malik blasts past him into the lobby.\\n\\n HARRY ducks, galloping through the doors after him.\\n\\n\\n 93 INT. HOTEL - NIGHT\\n\\n Acres of marble and red carpet. Liveries porters. Guests\\n dressed for evening, the men in suits, diamonds on the women.\\n And sudden pandemonium as Malik roars through the lobby, with\\n Harry charging along behind him. Malik guns it across the\\n \",\n \"her. He knows\\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\\n game which will end when she reaches the end of the boom. Dana\\n puts the key between her teeth so she can hang on better. It\\n is windy and the boom is swinging.\\n\\n\\n 306 INT. 20TH FLOOR - DAY\\n\\n The Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\\n and look toward the window.\\n\\n\\n 307 \",\n \"There are three men in the car. YUSIF and MAHMOUD are in the\\n front, with Mahmoud driving. In the back, shadowed, we can\\n just make out ABU MALIK. Yusif is massively built, with a body\\n like a beer-keg. Mahmoud is skinny and intense.\\n\\n \\n 73 OMITTED *\\n\\n\\n 74 INT./EXT. GIB'S CAR - MALL - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry puts\",\n \" Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\\n over the inside of the metal building.\\n\\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside\",\n \"\\n\\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cubicles.\\n There is a hushed quality here. People do not joke. They do\\n not hurry. There are a lot of computer screens displaying\\n information from around the world. It looks like a combination\\n of NASA mission control and FBI headquarters.\\n\\n Fast Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\\n cubicle.\\n\\n HARRY\\n \",\n \"ISE the terrorists have barricaded themselves\\n on the twentieth floor. There are 12 TERRORISTS, all with\\n automatic weapons. Occasionally one of them will fire a burst\\n down a stairwell with an AK-47. Miami-Dade SWAT team members\\n are deployed in the stairwell but are keeping their distance.\\n\\n\\n 304 INT. HIGH RISE - ON THE 21ST FLOOR - DAY\\n\\n Malik is sequestered with the bomb. It sits on\",\n \"Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\\n and look toward the window.\\n\\n\\n 307 EXT. HIGH RISE - DAY\\n\\n RISING INTO VIEW, LIKE A GARGOYLE FROM HELL, IS THE HARRIER.\\n It fills the windows completely, hovering only a few feet\\n outside. The terrorists raise their AK-47s to fire just as\\n Harry hits the 20mm nose-cannon.\\n\\n\\n 308\",\n \"side to side. The Crimson Jihad is\\n vaporized.\\n\\n\\n 309 EXT. ROOF - CRANE BOOM - DAY\\n\\n Malik hears the thunder of the jet and the firing, but from\\n where he is he can't see what's going on. He focuses on the\\n key. He must have that key.\\n\\n\\n 310 EXT. ROOF - NEAR HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n Malik's TWO REMAINING MEN\",\n \"half-crumbling pier. Next to\\n the pier is a dilapidated corrugated-metal warehouse building,\\n two stories high. There are floodlights on the dock but beyond\\n is black night, with the ghostly shapes of mangroves and palms.\\n It is an abandoned facility on what appears to be a tiny island\\n in the Caribbean.\\n\\n There is a lot of activity. Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\\n men, clearly C\",\n \"their AK-47s to fire just as\\n Harry hits the 20mm nose-cannon.\\n\\n\\n 308 INT. / EXT. HIGH RISE - 20TH FLOOR - DAY\\n\\n Glass explodes into glittering mist, and terrorists explodes\\n into bloody spray as Harry pivots the plane and the cannon\\n sweeps the floor clear from side to side. The Crimson Jihad is\\n vaporized.\\n\\n\\n 309 EXT. ROOF -\",\n \" the slides the car broadside, blocking both lanes. Malik locks\\n up the brakes and the bike slides to a stop. Then the\\n terrorist pops the clutch and wheels the bike around-- Jumping\\n the curb and going straight at the entrance of THE HYATT\\n REGENCY HOTEL.\\n\\n Bellmen and guests scatter as the bike roars right at them.\\n The sliding doors and opening for a bellman coming out with\\n bags and Malik blasts past him into the lobby.\\n\\n HARRY d\"\n ],\n [\n \" the cops sealing off the area. *\\n He renezvous'd there with about *\\n a dozen more faction members. *\\n They're barricaded on the *\\n twentieth floor.\\n (he gets very serious) *\\n Harry, they have a hostage. It's *\\n Dana. *\\n\\n HARRY *\\n My Dana!?\\n\\n G\",\n \"\\n guy's blind)\\n That key right there!\\n\\n Malik looks down. The key is gone.\\n\\n MALIK\\n (to his men)\\n Someone has stolen the key!\\n\\n He turns, looking around wildly. Malik then sees Dana running\\n for the stairwell to the roof. He pulls a pistol and shoots at\\n her, but hits the wall as she bangs through the door. He runs\\n after her.\\n\\n\\n 305 EXT.\",\n \" sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\\n\\n\\n 312 EXT. ROOF - OVERLOOKING EDGE - DAY\\n\\n ANGLE LOOKING DOWN. Malik, Dana, the street far below. With\\n an unbelievable roar the Harrier sweeps in beneath Dana,\\n FILLING FRAME.\\n\\n\\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\\n\\n Harry has the canopy\",\n \" DANA\\n I'm done.\\n\\n Dana bolts. She has eaten about four bites. Harry sits at the\\n table, alone. He feels isolated, knowing that everybody is\\n lying to everybody else. He is a man without a center, lost.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n\\n 120 INT. OMEGA SECTOR/ LISTENING ROOM - DAY\\n\\n TRACKING ALONG THE BANK OF RECORDERS. Harry comes to a\\n particular\",\n \"along\\n the edge.\\n\\n MALIK\\n Come on, child. Give me the key.\\n (smiling)\\n Don't you want to live? I give\\n you my word.\\n\\n DANA\\n No way you whacko.\\n\\n She reaches the corner of the building. Her back touches\\n something. it is the boom of a small crane, used for lifting\\n building supplies. Careful to keep the key dangling over open\\n space, D\",\n \" It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\\n but she is fairly composed now.\\n\\n DANA\\n I have to go to the bathroom.\\n\\n The terrorists ignore her. A terrified ACTION NEWS REPORTER\\n and his CAMERAMAN, under guard by TWO TERRORISTS, are hastily\\n setting up to shoot Malik.\\n CAMERAMAN\\n Tape is rolling.\\n\\n MALIK\\n This is a communique from Crimson\\n \",\n \"some crates, and we see that his video-\\n tapes demands are running on CNN. Harry's face fills the\\n screen, verifying the the nuclear weapons as a real threat. He\\n is identified at the bottom of the screen as HARRY TASKER,\\n ATOMIC ENERGY COMMISSION. Dana stares at her father's face on\\n the national news. It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\\n but she is fairly composed now.\\n\\n DANA\\n \",\n \"her. He knows\\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\\n game which will end when she reaches the end of the boom. Dana\\n puts the key between her teeth so she can hang on better. It\\n is windy and the boom is swinging.\\n\\n\\n 306 INT. 20TH FLOOR - DAY\\n\\n The Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\\n and look toward the window.\\n\\n\\n 307 \",\n \", but hits the wall as she bangs through the door. He runs\\n after her.\\n\\n\\n 305 EXT. BUILDING / ROOF - DAY\\n\\n ON THE ROOF, Malik bursts through the stairwell door. His TWO\\n MEN have followed him. Malik stops suddenly when he sees--\\n Dana standing at the edge of the roof. She is holding the\\n ARMING KEY by its chain. Dangling it over the edge. He\\n signals to his men not to fire.\\n\",\n \"the\\n ARMING KEY by its chain. Dangling it over the edge. He\\n signals to his men not to fire.\\n\\n DANA\\n (terrified, but\\n thinking)\\n You shoot me, this'll fall.\\n\\n Malik advances slowly, his eyes glistening ferally. She backs\\n up a step with each of his, moving along the edge of the roof.\\n Malik keeps his pistol aimed at her chest.\\n\\n DANA\\n Don't come any\",\n \". Her heart stops.\\n\\n DANA\\n Oh my Gooooood.\\n\\n\\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\\n\\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\\n front of her friends.\\n\\n HARRY\\n There are going to be some\",\n \".\\n\\n GIB\\n The CCD camera and transmitter\\n and inside a pack of smokes.\\n Slick little unit, huh?\\n\\n IN POV we see Dana enter the living room. She looks around\\n carefuly, then quickly lifts Gib's jacket and slips out his\\n wallet. She palms two twenties in the blink of an eye and puts\\n the wallet back. Pro moves.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Son of a bitch!\\n\\n GIB\",\n \"Helen? Hi, it's Gib. Harry\\n remembered something he left at\\n the office. You know Harry.\\n\\n As he is talking he sees that a bus has blocked his view of the\\n station wagon.\\n\\n\\n 79 INT. HARRY'S HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n She sighs fatalistically.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Yeah, Gib. I know Harry.\\n\\n Helen hangs up the phone just as Dana strides through the room,\\n putting on a jacket and\",\n \"boom of a small crane, used for lifting\\n building supplies. Careful to keep the key dangling over open\\n space, Dana climbs up on the lattice-work boom and moves out\\n beyond the edge of the building, never taking her eyes off\\n Malik. She is hyperventilating, terrified, but thinking\\n clearly.\\n\\n Malik steps up on the crane, crawling out after her. He knows\\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\\n game which will end when\",\n \"the band members can react, they hear the big\\n metal doors rolling and sunlight blazes in. Dana stares into\\n the glare, seeing an ominous silhouette standing there. The\\n shadowy figure walks toward them.\\n\\n FIGURE\\n You! Come with me.\\n\\n The figure comes straight toward Dana. To her horror is turns\\n out to be her dad. Her heart stops.\\n\\n DANA\\n Oh my Gooooood.\\n\\n\\n 221 EX\",\n \" 216 INT./EXT. SEDAN - DAY\\n\\n HARRY\\n Absolutely. But can it wait?\\n I'm on a critical surveillance\\n right now.\\n\\n Harry spots something up ahead. He snaps his fingers and\\n points, then whips a pair of gyro-stabilized binoculars to his\\n eyes.\\n\\n HARRY'S POV THROUGH SCOPE: Trent, on the Yamaha with Dana on\\n the back\",\n \"1 EXT. ROOF - CRANE BOOM - DAY\\n\\n MALIK IS STILL ADVANCING out the crane boom. Dana slips as she\\n backs up, toppling off the boom. She is hanging now by her\\n hands over a 20 story drop.\\n\\n Malik is almost to her. He needs a hand free to grab her. He\\n sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\\n\\n\\n 312 EXT. ROOF -\",\n \"\\n\\n\\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\\n\\n Harry has the canopy up. Malik sees Harry, ten feet below.\\n His eyes narrow with an all-consuming rage. He glances at the\\n pistol on the beam. Back at the girl, the key in her teeth--\\n So close.\\n\\n Harry maneuvers the cockpit directly under Dana.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (shouting)\\n Let go baby! I've\",\n \" (not listening)\\n Okay. Here she comes.\\n\\n\\n 103 EXT. STREET - DAY\\n\\n HARRY'S POV THROUGH BINOCULARS - We see Dana come out to the\\n curb and meet Trent, who pulls up on his bike. She gets on\\n behind him, adjusts her walkman headphones over her ears and he\\n launches out into traffic.\\n\\n\\n 104 INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY\\n\",\n \"ana. *\\n\\n HARRY *\\n My Dana!?\\n\\n GIB\\n They must have grabbed her during\\n the night... we didn't know.\\n Sorry, Harry, I--\\n\\n\\n 298 EXT. HARRIER - DAY\\n\\n But Harry is already moving. He sprints toward the nearest\\n Harrier, witch is idling nearby. Gib runs after him.\\n\\n GIB\\n Harry! We'\"\n ],\n [\n \"immediately and forever,\\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\\n one major US city each week until\\n these demands are met...\\n\\n BACK TO VIEWFINDER IMAGE. BATTERY warning flashing faster.\\n\\n MALIK\\n ... First one weapon will be\\n detonated on this uninhabited\\n island as a demonstration of\\n Crimson Jihad's power and our\\n willingness to be humanitarian.\\n However, if there demands are\",\n \"\\n Crimson Jihad's power and our\\n willingness to be humanitarian.\\n However, if there demands are not--\\n\\n In a burst of static the image GOES BLACK.\\n\\n The cameraman nervously lowers the camera, ashen faced.\\n Malik's eyes are black with murder.\\n\\n CAMERAMAN\\n Battery, Abu.\\n\\n MALIK\\n Get another one, you moron!\\n\\n\\n 245 INT. BUILDING\",\n \" Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\\n over the inside of the metal building.\\n\\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside\",\n \"sweating, wondering if he\\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\\n\\n MALIK\\n -- But now the Oppressed have *\\n been given a mighty sword, to *\\n strike back at their enemies. *\\n Unless the US pulls all military\\n forces out of the Persian Gulf\\n area, immediately and forever,\\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\\n one major US city each week until\\n these demands are\",\n \"ERAMAN\\n Tape is rolling.\\n\\n MALIK\\n This is a communique from Crimson\\n Jihad. You have heard from your\\n own expert. You have seen the\\n Holy fire with your own eyes. Do\\n not force us to destroy this\\n city. And do not try to use\\n force against us. I can trigger\\n this bomb instantly. All I have\\n to do is turn that key...\\n (he points fiercely\",\n \"Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\\n men, clearly CRIMSON JIHAD TERRORISTS are busy at various\\n activities. Many of them carry AK47 assault rifles.\\n\\n MALIK is supervizing them as they finish unloading a tarp-\\n covered object about 15 feet high from the ship. A rusting\\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\\n an AERO\",\n \"*\\n Now he's formed his own splinter\\n faction called CRIMSON JIHAD.\\n\\n GIB *\\n Guess he thought the other\\n terrorist groups were too warm\\n and fuzzy for his taste.\\n\\n FAISIL\\n They call him \\\"The Sand Spider\\\". *\\n\\n TRILBY\\n Why?\\n\\n FAISIL\\n (he shrugs)\\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\\n\",\n \" It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\\n but she is fairly composed now.\\n\\n DANA\\n I have to go to the bathroom.\\n\\n The terrorists ignore her. A terrified ACTION NEWS REPORTER\\n and his CAMERAMAN, under guard by TWO TERRORISTS, are hastily\\n setting up to shoot Malik.\\n CAMERAMAN\\n Tape is rolling.\\n\\n MALIK\\n This is a communique from Crimson\\n \",\n \"side to side. The Crimson Jihad is\\n vaporized.\\n\\n\\n 309 EXT. ROOF - CRANE BOOM - DAY\\n\\n Malik hears the thunder of the jet and the firing, but from\\n where he is he can't see what's going on. He focuses on the\\n key. He must have that key.\\n\\n\\n 310 EXT. ROOF - NEAR HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n Malik's TWO REMAINING MEN\",\n \"Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\\n and look toward the window.\\n\\n\\n 307 EXT. HIGH RISE - DAY\\n\\n RISING INTO VIEW, LIKE A GARGOYLE FROM HELL, IS THE HARRIER.\\n It fills the windows completely, hovering only a few feet\\n outside. The terrorists raise their AK-47s to fire just as\\n Harry hits the 20mm nose-cannon.\\n\\n\\n 308\",\n \"you have been\\n brought here?\\n\\n HELEN\\n N-no.\\n\\n MALIK\\n So that this man can verify to\\n the world that Crimson Jihad is\\n now a nuclear power.\\n\\n HELEN\\n How can Harry do that? He's a\\n salesman for chrissakes.\\n\\n MALIK\\n If we were wrong about him...\\n then the last thing you see will\\n be your blood spraying\",\n \"their AK-47s to fire just as\\n Harry hits the 20mm nose-cannon.\\n\\n\\n 308 INT. / EXT. HIGH RISE - 20TH FLOOR - DAY\\n\\n Glass explodes into glittering mist, and terrorists explodes\\n into bloody spray as Harry pivots the plane and the cannon\\n sweeps the floor clear from side to side. The Crimson Jihad is\\n vaporized.\\n\\n\\n 309 EXT. ROOF -\",\n \"they\\n have the arming box and all *\\n equipment necessary to detonate\\n the four warheads. This is\\n absolutely the real thing,\\n gentlemen.\\n\\n The camera swings off Harry to Malik, standing before the rest\\n of the Jihad warriors, who are assembled behind the four bombs.\\n\\n MALIK\\n You have killed our women and *\\n children, bombed our cities from\\n afar like cowards, and dare to\\n call\",\n \"her. He knows\\n she will not drop the key as long as he has the gun. It is a\\n game which will end when she reaches the end of the boom. Dana\\n puts the key between her teeth so she can hang on better. It\\n is windy and the boom is swinging.\\n\\n\\n 306 INT. 20TH FLOOR - DAY\\n\\n The Crimson Jihad warriors hear a thunderous, shrieking roar\\n and look toward the window.\\n\\n\\n 307 \",\n \"GIB\\n (reading from a file)\\n Hardcore, highly fanatical, ultra- *\\n fundamentalist. Linked to *\\n numerous car-bombings, that cafe *\\n bomb in Rome, and the 727 out of\\n Lisbon last year. Major player. *\\n\\n FAISIL *\\n Now he's formed his own splinter\\n faction called CRIMSON JIHAD.\\n\\n \",\n \"ISIL, an Iranian-American, finishes making\\n yellow snow and hurries back to the van. They are parked on a\\n winding mountain road a half-mile from the chateau, whose\\n lights are visible through the trees.\\n\\n Faisil jumps in and goes to the eyepiece of a huge telephoto\\n nightvision scope. The eerie green image lurches as he sweeps\\n the grounds, locating the boathouse.\\n\\n\\n 6 EXT. BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Conce\",\n \"again.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Now no man can stop us. We are\\n set on our course. No force can\\n stop us...\\n (as libbing)\\n ... we're cool, we're badass,\\n blah blah.\\n\\n\\n 255 INT. WAREHOUSE - DOWN BELOW - NIGHT\\n\\n Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing\",\n \"0 EXT. ROOF - NEAR HELICOPTER - DAY\\n\\n Malik's TWO REMAINING MEN run to the helicopter, gesticulating\\n to the pilot to get ready to take off. The pilot revs the\\n turbine and the rotor whirls faster. The two men jump in,\\n picking up M-60 machine guns.\\n\\n\\n 311 EXT. ROOF - CRANE BOOM - DAY\\n\\n MALIK IS STILL ADVANCING out\",\n \"our women and *\\n children, bombed our cities from\\n afar like cowards, and dare to\\n call us terrorists--\\n\\n Over the image of Malik, a LOW-BATTERY warning begins to flash.\\n\\n CUT TO SCENE, as Malik speaks into the camera, which is head by\\n one of his men. The CAMERAMAN is sweating, wondering if he\\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\\n\\n MALI\",\n \"'ve set 'em up on\\n all of Juno's shipping agents,\\n her clients, and Faisil made up *\\n a list of possible contacts that\\n Crimson Jihad might have in this\\n country. Now all we can do is *\\n wait -- *\\n\\n He notices Harry is not listening.\\n\\n GIB\\n Is this national security stuff\\n boring you?\\n\\n HARRY\\n Put a tap on her phone\"\n ],\n [\n \" Malik raises his fist and chants some Crimson Jihad slogans.\\n The terrorists echo and chant and then cheer, firing their guns\\n in the air. Harry pulls Helen back as ricochets clatter all\\n over the inside of the metal building.\\n\\n Malik shouts something and all the terrorists go back to work\\n at double time. They are loading warheads Two and Three onto\\n trucks (one per truck) and the last, number Four, is being\\n wheeled out on a cart to the Aerospatiale outside\",\n \"the object they just unloaded,\\n revealing a FOURTH STATUE. The figures are cracked and\\n obscured by centuries, but they are unmistakably warriors\\n mounted on horseback. The legs and arms are missing on some,\\n but the massive heads and necks remain.\\n\\n JUNO\\n Incredible, aren't they? Warrior\\n figures from the Persian Empire\\n of Darius the First, around 500\\n BC. I call them \\\"The Four\\n Horsemen\",\n \" (seeing the\\n possibilities)\\n His wife? Good. Bring them.\\n\\n\\n 242 INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Malik leads the entourage into the warehouse, where brilliant\\n floodlights illuminate--\\n\\n THREE HUGE STONE FIGURES, lined up in the middle of the space.\\n The tarp is removes from the object they just unloaded,\\n revealing a FOURTH STATUE. The figures are cracked and\\n obscured by centuries, but they\",\n \"Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\\n men, clearly CRIMSON JIHAD TERRORISTS are busy at various\\n activities. Many of them carry AK47 assault rifles.\\n\\n MALIK is supervizing them as they finish unloading a tarp-\\n covered object about 15 feet high from the ship. A rusting\\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\\n an AERO\",\n \" HARRY\\n Let's go.\\n 250\\n thru OMITTED *\\n 253\\n\\n 254 INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n LOOKING DOWN FROM A CATWALK on the activity below the four\\n horsemen statues and several utility trucks almost fill the\\n floorspace. A rental truck is being loaded with conventional\\n weapons, including machine guns and several HAND-LAUNCHED\\n STINGER MISSILES. \",\n \"they\\n have the arming box and all *\\n equipment necessary to detonate\\n the four warheads. This is\\n absolutely the real thing,\\n gentlemen.\\n\\n The camera swings off Harry to Malik, standing before the rest\\n of the Jihad warriors, who are assembled behind the four bombs.\\n\\n MALIK\\n You have killed our women and *\\n children, bombed our cities from\\n afar like cowards, and dare to\\n call\",\n \"the ship. A rusting\\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\\n an AEROSPATIALE HELICOPTER thunders toward them over the black\\n Caribbean water.\\n\\n The helicopter lands and Juno steps down from the front door.\\n The sliding door is opened and Akbar and the others pull a\\n groggy Harry and Helen out of the aircraft. They are covered\\n by hoods.\\n\\n Malik walks up to them and pulls their hoods off. Harry takes\",\n \"\\n you're the one to see.\\n\\n Juno leads Harry through a door into a large warehouse area.\\n There is a bustle of activity as workmen unpack crates. An\\n overhead crane is used to move huge stone pieces. There are\\n massive columns, and statues two stories high. Even the entire\\n facade of a tomb.\\n\\n JUNO\\n So what did these... people...\\n say about me exactly?\\n\\n They stroll amongst the statues, as coveralled workmen move\",\n \"is being loaded with conventional\\n weapons, including machine guns and several HAND-LAUNCHED\\n STINGER MISSILES. One of the nukes has been lowered into a pit\\n cut in the concrete floor. Malik and most of the terrorists\\n are gathered around it.\\n\\n A GUARD, F.G. on the catwalk, watches intently from the\\n railing. So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC\",\n \" activities. Something big is *\\n going down --\\n\\n FAISIL *\\n And we know that a week ago four *\\n MIRV warheads were smuggled out *\\n of the former Soviet Republic of *\\n Kazakhstan . . .\\n\\n HARRY *\\n We think Khaled's group has *\\n bought the nukes and is bringing *\\n them to U.S\",\n \"So what did these... people...\\n say about me exactly?\\n\\n They stroll amongst the statues, as coveralled workmen move\\n around them with tools, scaffolding, pneumatic equipment. Most\\n of the workers are middle-eastern.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Let's see... that you can read\\n ancient Sanskrit without having\\n to sound out the words. And that\\n other dealers and archeologists\\n don't like you much.\\n\\n JUN\",\n \".5 kilos of\\n enriched uranium, with a\\n plutonium trigger. The nominal\\n yield is 10 kilotons.\\n (in Arabic, subtitled) *\\n Release her and I'll cooperate.\\n\\n Malik lowers the knife from her jaw. He turns away from her\\n like she has ceased to exist and yells at the terrorists to\\n remove the other weapons. Jackhammers tear into the stone\\n figures.\\n\\n Helen\",\n \"half-crumbling pier. Next to\\n the pier is a dilapidated corrugated-metal warehouse building,\\n two stories high. There are floodlights on the dock but beyond\\n is black night, with the ghostly shapes of mangroves and palms.\\n It is an abandoned facility on what appears to be a tiny island\\n in the Caribbean.\\n\\n There is a lot of activity. Three U-RENT TRUCKS are parked by\\n the warehouse, as well as some other vehicles. About thirty\\n men, clearly C\",\n \"jackhammer. He blasts\\n right into the body of one of the Horseman, destroying it.\\n Stone fragments fall away, revealing a cavity cut with great\\n precision inside the figure.\\n\\n Inside is a BRIGHT METAL CONTAINER. Four terrorists pull it\\n out and set it on the ground. It is six feet long and coffin-\\n like. Malik steps up to it, his eyes glistening. A hush has\\n fallen over the group.\\n\\n MALIK\\n \",\n \"ISE - ON THE 21ST FLOOR - DAY\\n\\n Malik is sequestered with the bomb. It sits on the floor,\\n still in its shipping case. Dana stands nearby, looking\\n scares. She is not ties up. Where can she go?\\n\\n She watches Malik go to the warhead and insert his arming key.\\n He has a TV set up on some crates, and we see that his video-\\n tapes demands are running on CNN. Harry's face fills the\\n screen\",\n \"exist and yells at the terrorists to\\n remove the other weapons. Jackhammers tear into the stone\\n figures.\\n\\n Helen is just staring at Harry, her mouth open. He turns to\\n her, not knowing what to say. He shrugs sheepishly.\\n\\n HARRY\\n What can I say? I'm a spy.\\n\\n She just looks at him for a long time. She moves closer,\\n staring and staring, letting it sink in. Then she hauls off\\n and slugs him\",\n \"MALIK\\n If we were wrong about him...\\n then the last thing you see will\\n be your blood spraying in his\\n face.\\n\\n Harry steps forward, his face grim.\\n\\n HARRY\\n This is a Soviet MIRV-Six, from\\n an SS-22N launch vehicle. The\\n warhead contains 14.5 kilos of\\n enriched uranium, with a\\n plutonium trigger. The nominal\\n \",\n \"to it, his eyes glistening. A hush has\\n fallen over the group.\\n\\n MALIK\\n Open it.\\n\\n The latches are released and the lid lifted. Inside is\\n machined metal object, roughly conical, about five feet long.\\n Malik signals to Harry to step closer and look.\\n\\n MALIK\\n Do you know what this is?\\n\\n HARRY\\n Can you give me a clue? It could\\n be a water heater for\",\n \"\\n Juno nods and the hostess zaps Harry. He slides into\\n unconsciousness as the plane engines begin to SCREAM.\\n\\n\\n 240 EXT. AIRPORT - NIGHT\\n\\n The G-3 lifts into the night sky, turning south.\\n\\n\\n 241 EXT. PIER - NIGHT\\n\\n A small FREIGHTER is tied up to a half-crumbling pier. Next to\\n the pier is a dilapidated corrugated-metal warehouse building,\\n two stories\",\n \"real.\\n\\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\\n chain from around his neck and holds up a METAL ARMING KEY.\\n Then jumps down into the pit and inserts it into the warhead's\\n arming computer. Harry is listening intently, translating for\\n Helen.\\n\\n HARRY\\n In ninety minutes a pillar of *\\n holy fire will rise at this place *\\n as a sign to out enemies. *\"\n ],\n [\n \"HELEN\\n It's okay, don't bother, Harry.\\n\\n He goes to her and puts his arms around her. He is tender with\\n her. He wishes he can tell her the truth.\\n\\n HARRY\\n I'm sorry. Thank you for the\\n party.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Yeah. It was great.\\n\\n Helen finds a smile for him somewhere. She really does love\\n him, though more and more often lately she finds her heart in\\n pain\",\n \"INT. MAIN HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry whirls Juno aggressively across the dancefloor. She\\n responds deftly. They are well matched. She parries each of\\n his smooth moves with a flourish. It is a contest of wills,\\n and a surprised appraisal for each that the other is worthy.\\n Juno is hot. He bends her back at the waist, then snaps her\\n up. She twirls into the crook of his arm. Their faces are\\n inches apart\",\n \"mly, signalling\\n Harry with her eyes)\\n Go ahead.\\n\\n\\n 325 INT. EMBASSY PARTY - NIGHT\\n\\n It is a black tie affair. Very glitzy. CAMERA SWOOPS over the\\n guests, sipping champagne and dancing. It is an embassy crowd,\\n very international. HARRY AND HELEN work their way through the\\n crowd. He is in tux, hair slicked back, looking rakish. She\\n\",\n \"clothes on the bed near the phone. Helen is\\n still concentrating on her mission.\\n\\n HARRY (TAPE)\\n Now turn, cheri, in the\\n moonlight. Let your body flow\\n like water.\\n\\n She turns. Her skin is beautiful in the silvery light.\\n\\n HARRY (TAPE)\\n Now dance for me. Go on.\\n\\n Helen has no idea what to do, but she improvises quite well.\\n The scrutiny of the shadow\",\n \" Helen. She is wearing a terrycloth robe as she picks out an\\n outfit. Her hair is wrapped in a towel. To call her plain\\n would be inaccurate. She could be attractive if she put any\\n effort into it, which doesn't occur to her.\\n\\n HARRY\\n I'm late.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Me too.\\n\\n They talk without looking at each other, the way people who\\n have been together a long time do.\\n\\n HEL\",\n \"slowly.\\n\\n Helen is starting to get into the ritual. She lets the dress *\\n slip off her shoulders. It slides down her body to the floor. *\\n She steps out of it, still in high heels. *\\n\\n HARRY (TAPE)\\n Now slide the nylons off one by\\n one.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (puzzled)\\n I'm not wearing any.\\n\\n Harry winces. He starts the next line immediately.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n Yes, that's it.\\n\\n TIGHT ON Harry's eyes as he studies her. His game, meant to\\n give her a dangerous fantasy, is actually turning him on\\n mightily. He is amazed to see her playing the role, getting\\n into it. This is not the Helen is thought he knew for sixteen\\n years.\\n\\n HARRY (TAPE)\\n Now, lie on the bed and close\\n your eyes.\\n\\n She does. Harry rises and goes to her, bringing\",\n \". Go on.\\n\\n Helen has no idea what to do, but she improvises quite well.\\n The scrutiny of the shadowed man, who is fully clothed, and her\\n raw vulnerability are a quiveringly powerful erotic\\n combination.\\n\\n HARRY (TAPE)\\n Let your hands be a lover's hands\\n on your own skin as you move.\\n Yes, that's it.\\n\\n TIGHT ON Harry's eyes as he studies her. His game, meant to\\n\",\n \"HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\\n of the party and owner of the chateau. He is fat and animated,\\n greeting guests with a flourish. As Harry watches he warmly *\\n greets a beautiful WOMAN. They become absorbed in a *\\n conversation.\\n\\n The woman glances up and sees Harry checking her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\",\n \"Y\\n (faintly)\\n Uh huh.\\n\\n HELEN\\n My husband the hero.\\n\\n Red lipstick. Then she puts a little perfume on her wrists.\\n\\n HELEN\\n I'll be right there, honey. Just\\n a minute.\\n\\n Harry doesn't answer. Helen puts a little perfume down the\\n front of her panties.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Just a second.\\n\\n Helen quickly pours two glasses\",\n \". Helen is avoiding Harry's eyes.\\n Harry looks over at Dana and she gives him a tiny smile. Then\\n she rises from her half-finished dinner and heads out of the\\n kitchen.\\n\\n DANA\\n I'm done.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Where are you off to young lady?\\n\\n DANA\\n (pointing toward her\\n room)\\n I have a book report.\\n\\n Helen watches her go. That's strange.\\n\\n \",\n \"\\n room)\\n I have a book report.\\n\\n Helen watches her go. That's strange.\\n\\n HARRY\\n So last night was pretty\\n exciting, huh?\\n\\n HELEN\\n (alarmed)\\n What?\\n (then smoothly--)\\n Oh, the flat tire? Yeah, I\\n thought the damn towtruck was\\n never going to get there.\\n\\n Harry smiles, reaching for more chicken. The phone RINGS.\\n\",\n \" Helen finds a smile for him somewhere. She really does love\\n him, though more and more often lately she finds her heart in\\n pain.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Let's go to bed, Harry. There's\\n only one present you have to open\\n tonight.\\n\\n She grins and arches one eyebrow meaningfully.\\n\\n\\n 101 INT. BEDROOM / BATHROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Helen walks Harry to the edge of the bed and sits him down.\\n She\",\n \" Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\\n\\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\\n is captivatingly beautiful\",\n \"\\n brush your teeth.\\n\\n HELEN\\n I'll just be a second. So what\\n happened tonight at the office?\\n\\n HARRY\\n I couldn't believe it. I go back\\n to get this report I need, right,\\n and the phone is ringing, so like\\n a bonehead I answer it--\\n\\n Helen is hurrying to put on the unfamiliar lingerie. G-string\\n panties and low-cut bra. She holds up\",\n \"the bed, fully clothed, snoring softly.\\n A little bit of drool is coming out the side of his mouth.\\n\\n HOLD ON HELEN, all dressed up with no place to go. She gazes\\n down at him, her shoulders slumping.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Happy Birthday, Harry.\\n\\n She sighs deeply and downs her champagne in one long gulp.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n\\n 102 EXT. STREET/ NEAR HIGH\",\n \".\\n\\n HARRY\\n (In Arabic/ subtitled)\\n Where's the john around here? I\\n have to take a major leak.\\n\\n The guard points warily down the corridor. Harry nods and\\n heads that way, back toward the party.\\n\\n\\n 16 INT. MAIN HALL/ STAIRCASE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n\",\n \" HELEN\\n I wasn't cheating!\\n\\n HARRY\\n Tell me about your husband, Mrs\\n Tasker.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Harry? What can I say about\\n Harry? He's a sales rep for a\\n computer company.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (hard question for him)\\n Would you say he was boring,\\n then?\\n\\n HELEN\\n (she sighs, nodding\\n \",\n \"lying to him with some amazement. You can\\n see the jaw muscles clenching.\\n\\n HARRY\\n So, a little excitement in an\\n otherwise dull day. Did is work\\n out okay?\\n\\n HELEN\\n Oh, sure. Fine.\\n (she gets up suddenly)\\n I'll get some more gravy.\\n\\n DANA\\n I'm done.\\n\\n Dana bolts. She has eaten about four bites. Harry\",\n \"the waist, then snaps her\\n up. She twirls into the crook of his arm. Their faces are\\n inches apart. Wow. The music ends and she gives him a wry\\n grin.\\n\\n JUNO\\n Well. And I thought this was\\n going to be just another bunch of\\n boring bankers and oil\\n billionaires.\\n\\n GIB (OVER)\\n Harry, seconds count, buddy.\\n Ditch the bitch, let's go.\\n\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \" (to Harry)\\n So now it's Tasker? Not\\n Renquist?\\n\\n\\n 239 INT. G-3 JET - NIGHT\\n\\n They enter the luxurious passenger cabin of the plane. Helen\\n has never seen anything like this.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Look, Harry's not part of this.\\n He's just a sales rep.\\n\\n JUNO\\n No, my dear, he is a federal\\n agent. He killed two of\",\n \"She rolls toward him, giving him a sleepy hug\\n and a kiss.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (a drowsy murmur)\\n Hi, honey. How was the flight?\\n\\n HARRY\\n Fine, honey. Stay asleep.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Okay.\\n\\n As she drifts off, Harry puts his head on the pillow and stares\\n at the ceiling.\\n\\n DISSOLVE TO:\\n\\n\\n 37 INT. TASKER\",\n \"some crates, and we see that his video-\\n tapes demands are running on CNN. Harry's face fills the\\n screen, verifying the the nuclear weapons as a real threat. He\\n is identified at the bottom of the screen as HARRY TASKER,\\n ATOMIC ENERGY COMMISSION. Dana stares at her father's face on\\n the national news. It's like a bad dream. She has been crying\\n but she is fairly composed now.\\n\\n DANA\\n \",\n \"mouth and turns slowly, scanning... revealing:\\n\\n HARRY TASKER. Our hero. Harry floats with just his eyes above\\n the surface, silent as a water snake, as a guard passes on a\\n footpath nearby.\\n\\n After a few beats Harry slips out of his tanks and fins,\\n letting them sink, and climbs the frozen ladder onto the dock.\\n He moves like a ninja into the shadows of the boathouse.\\n Opening a WATERPROOF BAG, he pulls out a walky\",\n \" 210 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n INSIDE THE OBSERVATION ROOM Harry states at her. He smiles.\\n\\n GIB\\n Now what?\\n\\n HARRY\\n (leaning forward to the\\n mike)\\n There is only one solution to\\n your problem, Mrs. Tasker. You\\n must work for us.\\n\\n GIB\\n (whispering to Harry)\\n Oh shit.\",\n \" What a team. See you at eight.\\n\\n GIB\\n Yep. Sleep fast.\\n\\n\\n 35 INT. TASKER HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry slips inside. He sets down his suitcase and walks\\n quietly down the hall. He pauses at a door with lurid labels\\n and stickers plastered all over it (Toxic Waste, STAY OUT!, IF\\n IT'S TOO LOUD YOU'RE TOO OLD, etc.)\\n\\n Harry silently\",\n \"\\n\\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cubicles.\\n There is a hushed quality here. People do not joke. They do\\n not hurry. There are a lot of computer screens displaying\\n information from around the world. It looks like a combination\\n of NASA mission control and FBI headquarters.\\n\\n Fast Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\\n cubicle.\\n\\n HARRY\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n Harry and Gib step up to the combination retinal-thumbprint-\\n voice scanners. Harry presses his thumb against a black-glass\\n plate for laser scan, and looks into the eye-piece of the\\n retinal scanner.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Harry Tasker. One zero zero two\\n four.\\n\\n GIB\\n Albert Gibson. Three four nine\\n nine one.\\n\\n Their clearance appears on a monitor on Janice's desk.\\n\\n J\",\n \"4 INT. TEKTEL OFFICES - DAY *\\n\\n Harry and Gib come out of an elevator on the 12th floor. *\\n Behind the receptionist is a burnished metal sign which reads *\\n TEKTEL SYSTEMS. They cross a open floor of cubicle spaces. *\\n There is the hum of activity everywhere. A normal day at a *\\n normal business. *\\n\\n SECRETARY *\\n Morning, Mr. Tasker. \",\n \" See.\\n\\n\\n 71 INT./EXT. GIB'S CAR - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry is changing clothes, getting ready to be Harry Tasker *\\n again, as Gib drives through evening traffic. Gib keeps\\n checking the rearview.\\n\\n GIB\\n We have a friend. Five cars\\n back, inside lane. They've been *\\n on us since we left Juno's. *\\n\\n Harry adjusts the passenger side mirror.\\n\\n HARR\",\n \"\\n Tasker, so I suggest you\\n cooperate. If we want to know\\n the most intimate details of your\\n life, you'd better tell us.\\n\\n Helen glowers at the mirror. Her hands are shaking and she\\n hates it that they can probably see she is afraid.\\n\\n HELEN\\n My husband is a good man.\\n\\n GIB\\n But he's not exactly ringing your\\n bell lately, right? I mean--\\n\\n Harry covers the m\",\n \"the ice above.\\n\\n\\n 4 EXT. CANAL AND BOATHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n A dock extends into the frozen canal, just behind a large\\n boathouse. There is a faint chipping sound. The ice breaks\\n quietly, and the pieces are slid back. A head appears, in a\\n rubber drysuit hood. The DIVER slips the regulator out of his\\n mouth and turns slowly, scanning... revealing:\\n\\n HARRY TASKER. Our hero. Harry floats with just\",\n \"-- BEEP\\n BEEP BEEP!! Harry pulls his beeper off his hip and looks at\\n it. The moment is spoiled.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Uh, it looks like I have to run.\\n I'll call you tomorrow. Your\\n proposal is very interesting.\\n\\n\\n 69 INT. GIB'S CAR - NIGHT\\n\\n Gib lets out a big exhale of relief. He looks at his watch.\\n\\n\\n 70 INT. TASKER\",\n \"ON HARRY, running. Ahead is a MOUNTED COP. Harry doesn't\\n break stride, heading right for the cop on the horse. The cop\\n turns, surprised, a split second before-- Harry pulls him off\\n the horse and slams him to the ground (he's wearing a helmet).\\n\\n HARRY\\n Federal Officer in pursuit of\\n suspect! Sorry.\\n\\n Harry is in the saddle and galloping after Malik before the cop\\n can get his gut out of the holster to stop\",\n \"Where?\\n\\n SIMON\\n The same place. One o'clock. I\\n have to go now. See you\\n tomorrow. Remember, I need you.\\n\\n\\n 123 INT. LISTENING ROOM - DAY\\n\\n The last line is played ON HARRY, reading. Now he is seeing\\n the proof in black and white. He slowly crumples the paper in\\n one hand, his expression dark.\\n\\n\\n 124 INT. TASKER HO\",\n \"behind\\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\\n vicious street-fighter moves. Harry looks upslope as--\\n\\n A service gate opens in the perimeter wall and TEAMS OF\\n SECURITY MEN in white snow-suits pour out, some on skis, some\\n on SNOWMOBILES. A HELICOPTER rises over the wall in a blast of\\n swirling snow. Its xenon lights rake through the trees,\\n casting lur\",\n \" Mission accomplished,\\n motherfuckers.\\n\\n Harry grabs her ankle. She raises one shoe to kosh him again,\\n and sees who it is. Freezeframe. Total shock. She can't even\\n form the question.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Harry-- ?!\\n\\n\\n 234 INT. SUITE DOOR - NIGHT\\n\\n CRASH!! The door lock is shattered by tremendous force and\\n THREE MEN burst into the room. We may recognize them as\",\n \"What the hell were you thinking?\\n We had the guy and you let him\\n get away.\\n\\n He looks into the horse's innocent brown eyes. Pats its neck\\n fondly.\\n\\n HARRY\\n What kind of cop are you?\\n\\n\\n 100 INT. TASKER HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Helen is asleep at the dining room table next to a half-eaten\\n cake and some melted ice cream. His unopened presents are\\n piled at one end of\",\n \" DANA\\n I'm done.\\n\\n Dana bolts. She has eaten about four bites. Harry sits at the\\n table, alone. He feels isolated, knowing that everybody is\\n lying to everybody else. He is a man without a center, lost.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n\\n 120 INT. OMEGA SECTOR/ LISTENING ROOM - DAY\\n\\n TRACKING ALONG THE BANK OF RECORDERS. Harry comes to a\\n particular\",\n \"\\n\\n Harry leaps a park bench like he's in a steeple chase.\\n\\n HARRY (CONT'D)\\n I want you on 14th in case he\\n turns south. And I need Seven on\\n the north side to box him in.\\n\\n\\n 90 INT. /EXT. GIB'S CAR - NIGHT\\n\\n Gib is weaving furiously through traffic. He slides into a\\n turn.\\n\\n GIB\\n Copy that.\\n\\n H\"\n ],\n [\n \"new model ordering system,\\n the one for the 680... how you\\n can write up an order and the\\n second the customer's name goes\\n into the computer, it starts\\n checking their credit, and if\\n they've ordered anything in the\\n past, and if they get a\\n discount...\\n\\n She is already tuning him out. And it hits us: SHE HAS NO\\n IDEA WHAT HARRY REALLY DOES.\\n\\n HEL\",\n \"itaries, businessman and minor mid-\\n east nobility. They are a high-octane mixture of new oil money\\n and old European money, and run the spectrum from stodgy\\n bankers to playboy arms dealers.\\n\\n Harry strolls amiably among the glittering woman, the cigar\\n smoking men, casually snagging a glass of champagne and a\\n canape from the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People\",\n \"hits us: SHE HAS NO\\n IDEA WHAT HARRY REALLY DOES.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (barely listening)\\n That's fabulous Harry.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Yeah, it was wild.\\n\\n Harry glances at her, oblivious to him and brushing her teeth.\\n He smiles. The best lies are told with enthusiasm.\\n\\n\\n 39 INT. FRONT HALLWAY, LIVING ROOM - DAY\\n\\n \",\n \"So what did these... people...\\n say about me exactly?\\n\\n They stroll amongst the statues, as coveralled workmen move\\n around them with tools, scaffolding, pneumatic equipment. Most\\n of the workers are middle-eastern.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Let's see... that you can read\\n ancient Sanskrit without having\\n to sound out the words. And that\\n other dealers and archeologists\\n don't like you much.\\n\\n JUN\",\n \". I know Harry.\\n\\n Helen hangs up the phone just as Dana strides through the room,\\n putting on a jacket and heading for the front door.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Where are you going?\\n\\n DANA\\n Out. If Dad doesn't care enough\\n about us to be here on his\\n birthday, then why should I care?\\n I'm going to a movie.\\n\\n HELEN\\n No you're not. You're going to\\n\",\n \"Harry is open and encouraging... they\\n laugh together... then when he looks away Harry goes snake-\\n eyed. He could kill Simon with one punch. He's visualizing\\n his wife getting porked by this guy.\\n\\n HARRY\\n But with you, she gets to be hot,\\n right?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Red hot. Her thighs steam.\\n\\n They laugh together. Harry's laugh is getting a bit brittle.\\n He speeds up, his knuckles\",\n \". Her heart stops.\\n\\n DANA\\n Oh my Gooooood.\\n\\n\\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\\n\\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\\n front of her friends.\\n\\n HARRY\\n There are going to be some\",\n \"toward the back of the warehouse and then leaves. Harry is\\n left alone in the vast space.\\n\\n Only a few lights are on, rendering the place somewhat Gothic.\\n Harry strolls in the direction the workman pointed. Ahead of\\n him, is the huge facade of a royal tomb. There is a flickering\\n light inside. A shadow moves across the wall in the entryway.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Hello?\\n\\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARR\",\n \" Harry's eyes are slitted down lethally as he stares across the\\n street.\\n\\n\\n 159 INT. CAR LOT SALES OFFICE - DAY (LATE AFTERNOON) *\\n\\n TIGHT ON A TAPE PLAYER, with Simon's hand adjusting the volume.\\n The sound of traffic noise and middle-eastern music blares from\\n the deck.\\n\\n PULL BACK to see Simon on the phone, talking loud, as if over\\n the din of a real place.\",\n \"her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\\n\\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\\n\\n\\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\\n\\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\\n cross\",\n \"rier pilots stand nearby, watching the\\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\\n finger pressed in his ear, listening to his headset. He waves\\n to Harry to come to him.\\n\\n Harry detaches from Helen and walks over to him. Helen watches\\n him go... back to work. She glances over at the two Harrier\\n pilots.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (to the pilots)\\n That's my husband.\\n\\n HARRY goes into the hudd\",\n \"has just\\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\\n\\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry\",\n \" Why?\\n\\n FAISIL\\n (he shrugs)\\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\\n\\n TRILBY\\n This is impressive, gentlemen.\\n Of course, it would have been\\n even more impressive if you\\n actually knew where he was.\\n\\n HARRY\\n We'll get him.\\n\\n TRILBY\\n Yes. You will.\\n (meaning-- you damn\\n well better)\\n Harry,\",\n \"\\n\\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cubicles.\\n There is a hushed quality here. People do not joke. They do\\n not hurry. There are a lot of computer screens displaying\\n information from around the world. It looks like a combination\\n of NASA mission control and FBI headquarters.\\n\\n Fast Faisil greets them, yawning, as they pass his partitioned\\n cubicle.\\n\\n HARRY\\n \",\n \"and\\n wrong.\\n\\n Dana studies something really fascinating at the end of a\\n fingernail.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Dana, are you listening to me?\\n\\n DANA\\n Yeah, Dad.\\n\\n HARRY\\n You know you can always talk to\\n me. Right? Whatever is going on\\n in your life, your mom and I'll\\n understand.\\n\\n DANA\\n Okay, Dad.\\n\\n H\",\n \" Trade secret.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (grinning)\\n Sure. Set me up and then don't\\n tell me.\\n\\n Simon leans forward, conspiratorially.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Okay, just ask yourself. What do\\n women really want? You take\\n these bored housewives, married\\n to the same guy for years. Stuck\\n in a rut. They need some\\n release. The promise of\\n \",\n \"\\n fantasy daughter, he thinks\\n everything's fine. But it's not\\n fine. Nothing's fine.\\n\\n Dana runs out the kitchen by the other door. Helen runs\\n after her.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Dana! Come back here!\\n\\n The slamming door is her answer.\\n\\n\\n 80 EXT. MALL - MEN'S ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n Yusif sees Harry, up ahead, enter a public restroom. He\\n\",\n \"thought\\n you might like to have lunch.\\n\\n HELEN\\n They must've just missed me.\\n\\n HARRY\\n They said you had to run out.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Yeah. It was a rush thing. They\\n needed some documents down at the\\n court house. I barely made it.\\n\\n Harry watches her lying to him with some amazement. You can\\n see the jaw muscles clenching.\\n\\n HARRY\\n \",\n \"looks\\n ultrasharp in his black tux with the white silk cummerbund and\\n his hair slicked back. He enters the main house through a back\\n service entrance.\\n\\n\\n 7 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT\\n \\n Harry strides through the huge kitchen like he owns the place.\\n The kitchen staff are scurrying around, too busy to really\\n notice. He finger-tastes a dish as he passes.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (French/ subtitled)\\n\",\n \" microphone, belting out a punchy cover of the old Cream classic\\n \\\"Sunshine of Your Love\\\". The guitar parts have been industrial-\\n ized, and it actually sounds pretty hip.\\n\\n Harry watches from the shadows, standing behind a pillar not\\n far from the stage. Watching his daughter gyrating in the\\n spotlight. His reaction is hard to read.\\n\\n\\n 219 INT. WAREHOUSE - CLOSE UP OF CIRCUIT-BREAKER - DAY\\n\\n TIGHT ON\"\n ],\n [\n \"has just\\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\\n\\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry\",\n \"TWO DOBERMANS pelt toward Harry, leaping at him in perfect\\n unison. He waits... and knocks their heads together in mid-\\n leap with a crack like a baseball bat. The dogs drop to the\\n snow, wobbling around like they're drunk.\\n\\n As Harry sprints on, ANOTHER DOBERMAN lunges out of the bushes\\n ahead, leaping directly for his throat. Harry grabs the dog\\n and shot-puts him up into a tree without breaking stride. Dog\\n \",\n \"and seizes him in a two-\\n hand neck-breaker-- SNAP.\\n\\n Two more run around the corner of a building. Harry stomps his *\\n foot down on one of the AKs, which is lying across a log. It *\\n flips into the air and he catches it in firing position . . *\\n . and takes them out with two well-aimed bursts. Helen comes *\\n out of the shadows staring at Harry in amazement. His shirt is\\n ripped, he is scrat\",\n \"aping directly for his throat. Harry grabs the dog\\n and shot-puts him up into a tree without breaking stride. Dog\\n Fu. The dog yelps and scrambles to hold onto an icy branch,\\n looking down in amazement.\\n\\n\\n 27 EXT. PERIMETER WALL/ MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry leaps down on the outside of the wall, hitting a snow\\n bank and sliding downhill. He sprints down the gentle slope\\n toward the highway.\\n\\n \",\n \"Harry is open and encouraging... they\\n laugh together... then when he looks away Harry goes snake-\\n eyed. He could kill Simon with one punch. He's visualizing\\n his wife getting porked by this guy.\\n\\n HARRY\\n But with you, she gets to be hot,\\n right?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Red hot. Her thighs steam.\\n\\n They laugh together. Harry's laugh is getting a bit brittle.\\n He speeds up, his knuckles\",\n \"sees the chopper start an attack run. He comes out into\\n the open, going straight downhill like a rocket. The chopper\\n gets suckered in... trying to hit him, getting right down\\n behind him... and suddenly-- Harry slides to a stop in an\\n explosion of powder and whips up the rifle. P-P-P-POW! He\\n rakes a burst across the windshield. The startled pilot\\n swerves and-- Suddenly two tall pine trees are right in front\\n of him.\\n\\n K\",\n \"of the wall, hitting a snow\\n bank and sliding downhill. He sprints down the gentle slope\\n toward the highway.\\n\\n Harry looks back as TWO GUARDS ON SKIS come out of a guard\\n station beside the main entrance.\\n\\n TRACKING WITH THE SKI-GUARDS, searching through the trees with\\n lights. They have lost Harry. They stop. A snowbank behind\\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\\n vicious street-fighter moves\",\n \"Giving Harry the\\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\\n\\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Don't move.\\n\\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\\n between her thigh\",\n \"looking around wildly for a way\\n out. Harry charges in, ducking to avoid the chandelier.\\n Waiters, trays, dinners, tables... everything seems to be\\n flying at once as people dive out of the way.\\n\\n\\n 95 INT. HOTEL - MAIN HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n MALIK skids out into the main hall by another door, and sees--\\n the ELEVATORS. The door is just closing on one of them. He\\n guns it and slides through the doors\",\n \"car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry. There eyes meet for a moment, just before Malik's\\n car ascends rapidly. Malik's malevolent glare is etched on\\n Harry's retinas.\\n\\n The older couple is jammed against the side-wall by Harry's\\n panting, snorting horse. It clomps around the tight elevator.\\n The woman is trying to crawl between her husband and the\",\n \"the bushes and out onto the street.\\n Cars skid around him, out of control. He turns south. Weaving\\n through traffic. Harry leaps the hedgerow behind Malik and\\n gallops among the spun-out cars. He goes right over the hood\\n on one which is blocking his path. The driver ducks as the\\n horse's hoof cracks the windshield.\\n\\n\\n 92 EXT. STREET/ HYATT REGENCY HOTEL - NIGHT\\n\\n Up ahead traffic is stopped\",\n \"toward the back of the warehouse and then leaves. Harry is\\n left alone in the vast space.\\n\\n Only a few lights are on, rendering the place somewhat Gothic.\\n Harry strolls in the direction the workman pointed. Ahead of\\n him, is the huge facade of a royal tomb. There is a flickering\\n light inside. A shadow moves across the wall in the entryway.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Hello?\\n\\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARR\",\n \"behind\\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\\n vicious street-fighter moves. Harry looks upslope as--\\n\\n A service gate opens in the perimeter wall and TEAMS OF\\n SECURITY MEN in white snow-suits pour out, some on skis, some\\n on SNOWMOBILES. A HELICOPTER rises over the wall in a blast of\\n swirling snow. Its xenon lights rake through the trees,\\n casting lur\",\n \". He gathers\\n the animal and LEAPS (in glorious SLOW MOTION) over the\\n bassist, who is diving for the carpet. Harry and horse land\\n deftly and then he urges his mount right up the steps after\\n Malik.\\n\\n\\n 94 INT. HOTEL RESTAURANT - NIGHT\\n\\n Malik roars between the tables, looking around wildly for a way\\n out. Harry charges in, ducking to avoid the chandelier.\\n Waiters, tr\",\n \"her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\\n\\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\\n\\n\\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\\n\\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\\n cross\",\n \" Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\\n\\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\\n is captivatingly beautiful\",\n \"barely\\n see him move. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Three .45 slugs go through\\n Mahmoud's chest, shattering the mirror behind him. He flops on\\n his butt, slumping against the wall.\\n\\n Yusif, who is easily Harry's size, bellows and grabs his gun\\n arm. They smash against the walls, struggling for the gun.\\n Yusif, locked to Harry, hurls him against the stalls. They hit\\n a locked door,\",\n \"INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\\n\\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\\n crosses quickly to a window and opens it onto a terrace. *\\n\\n\\n 11 EXT. BALCONIES - NIGHT *\\n\\n Harry goes onto the terrace, and in a display of acrobatic *\\n prowess, he pulls himself up onto the third floor balcony *\\n directly above. He lets himself into-- *\\n\\n\\n 12 INT.\",\n \"one of the guards puts a burst right\\n across Harry's path. Harry's skis are hit and he tumbles,\\n comes out of it... running down the hill like a juggernaut in\\n his heavy boots. He has lost the rifle somewhere in the snow.\\n\\n Harry takes cover behind the burning wreck of the downed\\n chopper, which still has its engine running. The ski patrol\\n opens fire from upslope. Rounds whacking against the disabled\\n helicopter.\\n\\n Harry looks down the slope and gets\",\n \"SSHHH. It's all he can do. He bends over her and\\n brings his lips slowly down to her. He touches them to hers so\\n slowly that she barely knows he is kissing her. Then he takes\\n her in a passionate kiss.\\n\\n And she grabs the lamp on the bedside table and SMASHES IT OVER\\n HIS HEAD. Harry flies off onto the floor, groaning and\\n semiconscious.\\n\\n Helen flips on the light and grabs her clothes, starting to\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"you'll be home at eight. I don't *\\n want Dana and I sitting here by\\n ourselves like we were last year.\\n You promise?\\n\\n HARRY\\n (laughing)\\n Baby, I said I'd be there.\\n Really. Trust me.\\n (the room phone RINGS)\\n Gotta go, honey. Bye bye.\\n\\n RING. Harry raises an eyebrow as he answers.\\n\\n HAR\",\n \"her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\\n\\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\\n\\n\\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\\n\\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\\n cross\",\n \"never had one\\n of these.\\n\\n They are in her room, which is your basic room from Hell.\\n Pearl Jam posters, and an unbelievable clutter of junk,\\n magazines and cheap jewelry. Harry kisses her on the cheek, to\\n which she submits dutifully. He looks at his watch and heads\\n for the door.\\n\\n HARRY\\n You better hurry. You're going\\n to be late for school.\\n\\n Harry hurries out and Dana considers the Swiss village\",\n \". I know Harry.\\n\\n Helen hangs up the phone just as Dana strides through the room,\\n putting on a jacket and heading for the front door.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Where are you going?\\n\\n DANA\\n Out. If Dad doesn't care enough\\n about us to be here on his\\n birthday, then why should I care?\\n I'm going to a movie.\\n\\n HELEN\\n No you're not. You're going to\\n\",\n \"s steam.\\n\\n They laugh together. Harry's laugh is getting a bit brittle.\\n He speeds up, his knuckles white on the wheel. Now for the big\\n question: HAVE THEY OR HAVEN'T THEY?\\n\\n HARRY\\n Sooooo... she's pretty good in\\n bed, then?\\n\\n SIMON\\n (yelling suddenly)\\n Hey, slow down you're gonna miss\\n the turn!\\n\\n\\n 164 EXT\",\n \"has just\\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\\n\\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry\",\n \"the lapels, and\\n slams him against the car.\\n\\n HARRY\\n STOP. CHEERING. ME. UP.\\n\\n We see in Harry's rage, frustration, and hurt confusion a\\n vulnerability we never expected to see.\\n\\n GIB\\n What'dya expect Harry? She's a\\n flesh and blood woman. And\\n you're never there. It was only\\n a matter of time.\\n\\n Harry sags. His\",\n \".\\n\\n HARRY\\n (In Arabic/ subtitled)\\n Where's the john around here? I\\n have to take a major leak.\\n\\n The guard points warily down the corridor. Harry nods and\\n heads that way, back toward the party.\\n\\n\\n 16 INT. MAIN HALL/ STAIRCASE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n\",\n \". Helen is avoiding Harry's eyes.\\n Harry looks over at Dana and she gives him a tiny smile. Then\\n she rises from her half-finished dinner and heads out of the\\n kitchen.\\n\\n DANA\\n I'm done.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Where are you off to young lady?\\n\\n DANA\\n (pointing toward her\\n room)\\n I have a book report.\\n\\n Helen watches her go. That's strange.\\n\\n \",\n \"at the house.\\n\\n\\n 172 INT. SEDAN - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry growls and slams the car into gear, roaring out into\\n traffic. Horns honk as he cuts off people. He is oblivious.\\n He grabs his rover.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Unit Two? Unit Seven?\\n\\n\\n 172A CUT TO -- FAISIL AND AGENT WEBSTER IN THE UNIT SEVEN VAN *\\n\\n FAISIL\\n\",\n \"aping directly for his throat. Harry grabs the dog\\n and shot-puts him up into a tree without breaking stride. Dog\\n Fu. The dog yelps and scrambles to hold onto an icy branch,\\n looking down in amazement.\\n\\n\\n 27 EXT. PERIMETER WALL/ MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry leaps down on the outside of the wall, hitting a snow\\n bank and sliding downhill. He sprints down the gentle slope\\n toward the highway.\\n\\n \",\n \"HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\\n of the party and owner of the chateau. He is fat and animated,\\n greeting guests with a flourish. As Harry watches he warmly *\\n greets a beautiful WOMAN. They become absorbed in a *\\n conversation.\\n\\n The woman glances up and sees Harry checking her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\",\n \"dazed. He is not so much walking to the car as wandering\\n in its general direction. He stops, in the street. Gib gets\\n out of the car and rushes to him. He pulls him out of the path\\n of a bus which is HONKING irritably.\\n\\n GIB\\n You look like you got gut-kicked.\\n What's the matter? You sick?\\n\\n Harry leans against the car for support.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (barely audible\",\n \"thought\\n you might like to have lunch.\\n\\n HELEN\\n They must've just missed me.\\n\\n HARRY\\n They said you had to run out.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Yeah. It was a rush thing. They\\n needed some documents down at the\\n court house. I barely made it.\\n\\n Harry watches her lying to him with some amazement. You can\\n see the jaw muscles clenching.\\n\\n HARRY\\n \",\n \"hits us: SHE HAS NO\\n IDEA WHAT HARRY REALLY DOES.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (barely listening)\\n That's fabulous Harry.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Yeah, it was wild.\\n\\n Harry glances at her, oblivious to him and brushing her teeth.\\n He smiles. The best lies are told with enthusiasm.\\n\\n\\n 39 INT. FRONT HALLWAY, LIVING ROOM - DAY\\n\\n \",\n \"today?\\n\\n DANA\\n Fine.\\n\\n Harry takes a bite of his food, watching her. Silence. Helen\\n glances at him.\\n\\n HELEN\\n So. You came by to see me today?\\n\\n She is a too casual, masking her nervousness.\\n\\n HARRY\\n I was in the area, and I thought\\n you might like to have lunch.\\n\\n HELEN\\n They must've just missed me.\\n\\n \",\n \" Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\\n\\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\\n is captivatingly beautiful\",\n \"Raises one\\n eyebrow. Woggles the plane's wings.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Hi, pumpkin.\\n\\n\\n ONE YEAR LATER\\n\\n\\n 324 INT. TASKER HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n Dinner at home, and everybody's there. We come in on the end\\n of some story that everybody thinks is hysterical.\\n\\n HELEN\\n ... you should have seen your\\n father, standing there all\\n covered with spaghe\",\n \"You better hurry. You're going\\n to be late for school.\\n\\n Harry hurries out and Dana considers the Swiss village a\\n moment.\\n\\n DANA\\n Really lame.\\n\\n She plonks is straight in the wastebasket.\\n\\n\\n 38 INT. HALLWAY/BEDROOM/ BATHROOM - DAY\\n\\n Harry strides down the hall, avoiding their small but *\\n incredibly ugly dog, GIZMO, who skitters past him going the *\\n\",\n \"it back onto its rightful finger. *\\n\\n He leans forward to kiss her. She reaches for him. Their lips *\\n meet.\\n\\n\\n 297 EXT. CAUSEWAY - HARRIERS IN BACKGROUND - DAY\\n\\n And they are locked together in that position when the sky\\n lights up behind them. Talk about fireworks. Harry covers her *\\n eyes and they stay in the kiss. *\\n\\n They are in no danger, but the effect is stunning. The\"\n ],\n [\n \" Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\\n\\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\\n is captivatingly beautiful\",\n \"toward the back of the warehouse and then leaves. Harry is\\n left alone in the vast space.\\n\\n Only a few lights are on, rendering the place somewhat Gothic.\\n Harry strolls in the direction the workman pointed. Ahead of\\n him, is the huge facade of a royal tomb. There is a flickering\\n light inside. A shadow moves across the wall in the entryway.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Hello?\\n\\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARR\",\n \"has just\\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\\n\\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry\",\n \"her husband. Harry looks up from\\n behind cover-- to see all seven dead. Now it's his turn to be\\n amazed. He signals to her to run... get off the exposed\\n catwalk. She makes it through the door to the outside stairs\\n as bullets start hitting the steel walls behind her.\\n\\n\\n 259 INT. WAREHOUSE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT\\n\\n A TERRORIST with a knife runs at the unarmed Harry. Harry\\n snatches up a jack-hammer and\",\n \"the aircraft. They are covered\\n by hoods.\\n\\n Malik walks up to them and pulls their hoods off. Harry takes\\n in his surroundings and looks back into the eyes of Malik.\\n Lethal energy flows between them.\\n\\n MALIK\\n Who is this woman?\\n\\n JUNO\\n His wife.\\n\\n MALIK\\n (seeing the\\n possibilities)\\n His wife? Good. Bring them.\\n\\n\\n 242 INT\",\n \"Giving Harry the\\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\\n\\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Don't move.\\n\\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\\n between her thigh\",\n \"her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\\n\\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\\n\\n\\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\\n\\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\\n cross\",\n \" The thug leader cuffs her across the head to shut her up.\\n\\n HELEN\\n That was unnecessary.\\n\\n\\n 236 INT. HOTEL BASEMENT - NIGHT *\\n\\n A stairwell door opens and the terrorists rush Harry and Helen *\\n through the basement labyrinth. *\\n\\n HELEN\\n What were you doing there?\\n\\n HARRY\\n You wouldn't believe me.\\n\\n A pistol muzzle is j\",\n \". Her heart stops.\\n\\n DANA\\n Oh my Gooooood.\\n\\n\\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\\n\\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\\n front of her friends.\\n\\n HARRY\\n There are going to be some\",\n \".\\n\\n HARRY\\n (In Arabic/ subtitled)\\n Where's the john around here? I\\n have to take a major leak.\\n\\n The guard points warily down the corridor. Harry nods and\\n heads that way, back toward the party.\\n\\n\\n 16 INT. MAIN HALL/ STAIRCASE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n\",\n \"it back onto its rightful finger. *\\n\\n He leans forward to kiss her. She reaches for him. Their lips *\\n meet.\\n\\n\\n 297 EXT. CAUSEWAY - HARRIERS IN BACKGROUND - DAY\\n\\n And they are locked together in that position when the sky\\n lights up behind them. Talk about fireworks. Harry covers her *\\n eyes and they stay in the kiss. *\\n\\n They are in no danger, but the effect is stunning. The\",\n \"rier pilots stand nearby, watching the\\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\\n finger pressed in his ear, listening to his headset. He waves\\n to Harry to come to him.\\n\\n Harry detaches from Helen and walks over to him. Helen watches\\n him go... back to work. She glances over at the two Harrier\\n pilots.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (to the pilots)\\n That's my husband.\\n\\n HARRY goes into the hudd\",\n \"\\n Yes, that's it.\\n\\n TIGHT ON Harry's eyes as he studies her. His game, meant to\\n give her a dangerous fantasy, is actually turning him on\\n mightily. He is amazed to see her playing the role, getting\\n into it. This is not the Helen is thought he knew for sixteen\\n years.\\n\\n HARRY (TAPE)\\n Now, lie on the bed and close\\n your eyes.\\n\\n She does. Harry rises and goes to her, bringing\",\n \"wreckage on the bridge, the\\n whole unbelievable panorama.\\n\\n Then she looks at Harry and-- Grins. She's alive! And so is\\n he. And not only that, this is the biggest rush of her life.\\n Harry grins back. Surprised and pleased that she is more of a\\n soul-mate than he ever knew.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n\\n 294 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY\\n\\n ANGLE ON A HARRI\",\n \"Harry is open and encouraging... they\\n laugh together... then when he looks away Harry goes snake-\\n eyed. He could kill Simon with one punch. He's visualizing\\n his wife getting porked by this guy.\\n\\n HARRY\\n But with you, she gets to be hot,\\n right?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Red hot. Her thighs steam.\\n\\n They laugh together. Harry's laugh is getting a bit brittle.\\n He speeds up, his knuckles\",\n \"HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\\n of the party and owner of the chateau. He is fat and animated,\\n greeting guests with a flourish. As Harry watches he warmly *\\n greets a beautiful WOMAN. They become absorbed in a *\\n conversation.\\n\\n The woman glances up and sees Harry checking her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\",\n \" So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\\n\\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\\n chain from around his neck and holds\",\n \"minutes and she's ready to bear\\n his children\\n (to Harry)\\n What's your exit strategy Twinkle\\n Toes?\\n\\n\\n 24 EXT. CHATEAU/ FRONT ENTRANCE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry nods to the security men at the door as he strides\\n confidently through. He goes down the steps to the broad\\n terrace above the motor court. Behind Harry, a GUARD lowers\\n his walky talky and starts after him.\\n\\n GU\",\n \"car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry. There eyes meet for a moment, just before Malik's\\n car ascends rapidly. Malik's malevolent glare is etched on\\n Harry's retinas.\\n\\n The older couple is jammed against the side-wall by Harry's\\n panting, snorting horse. It clomps around the tight elevator.\\n The woman is trying to crawl between her husband and the\",\n \"\\n\\n HARRY\\n It can't be.\\n\\n GIB\\n Same thing happened to me with\\n wife two. I had no idea until I\\n came home and the house was\\n empty. I mean empty. She even\\n took the ice-cube trays from the\\n fridge. What kind of person\\n would think of that?\\n\\n HARRY\\n (not listening)\\n I still don't believe it.\\n\\n \"\n ],\n [\n \"her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\\n\\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\\n\\n\\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\\n\\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\\n cross\",\n \"the lapels, and\\n slams him against the car.\\n\\n HARRY\\n STOP. CHEERING. ME. UP.\\n\\n We see in Harry's rage, frustration, and hurt confusion a\\n vulnerability we never expected to see.\\n\\n GIB\\n What'dya expect Harry? She's a\\n flesh and blood woman. And\\n you're never there. It was only\\n a matter of time.\\n\\n Harry sags. His\",\n \"be telling the truth.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (to Helen)\\n Wait! Calm down, Mrs. Tasker.\\n There is only one more question.\\n\\n Helen drops the stool. She stands there panting. Her fury\\n spent, she begins to cry.\\n\\n HELEN\\n What?\\n\\n HARRY\\n Do you still love your husband?\\n\\n HELEN\\n (softly)\\n Yes.\\n\\n H\",\n \". Aahhh! Don't kill me.\\n I'm not a spy. I'm nothing. I'm\\n navel lint. I have to lie to\\n women to get laid. And I don't\\n score much. It's pathetic.\\n (he looks down)\\n See, look... would a spy pee\\n himself?\\n\\n Harry is finally sickened by his grovelling. He pulls Simon\\n away from the edge, then gestures with\",\n \"Giving Harry the\\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\\n\\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Don't move.\\n\\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\\n between her thigh\",\n \"Harry is open and encouraging... they\\n laugh together... then when he looks away Harry goes snake-\\n eyed. He could kill Simon with one punch. He's visualizing\\n his wife getting porked by this guy.\\n\\n HARRY\\n But with you, she gets to be hot,\\n right?\\n\\n SIMON\\n Red hot. Her thighs steam.\\n\\n They laugh together. Harry's laugh is getting a bit brittle.\\n He speeds up, his knuckles\",\n \"has just\\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\\n\\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry\",\n \" I guess I needed\\n something...\\n\\n HARRY\\n What did you need?\\n\\n HELEN\\n I needed to feel alive. I wanted\\n to do something... outrageous.\\n And... I don't know... it felt\\n good to be needed. To be\\n trusted. To be special.\\n\\n In verbalizing it she just feels smaller, more pathetic that\\n she ever did. She hates the unseen voices for making for try\\n to\",\n \" Why?\\n\\n FAISIL\\n (he shrugs)\\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\\n\\n TRILBY\\n This is impressive, gentlemen.\\n Of course, it would have been\\n even more impressive if you\\n actually knew where he was.\\n\\n HARRY\\n We'll get him.\\n\\n TRILBY\\n Yes. You will.\\n (meaning-- you damn\\n well better)\\n Harry,\",\n \". Her heart stops.\\n\\n DANA\\n Oh my Gooooood.\\n\\n\\n 221 EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY\\n\\n Harry appears through the doors, marching Dana by the arm. He\\n walks her over to some industrial junk nearby, overgrown with\\n weeds, and sits her down for a talk.\\n\\n She is sullen, still mortified from getting dragged out in\\n front of her friends.\\n\\n HARRY\\n There are going to be some\",\n \" Trade secret.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (grinning)\\n Sure. Set me up and then don't\\n tell me.\\n\\n Simon leans forward, conspiratorially.\\n\\n SIMON\\n Okay, just ask yourself. What do\\n women really want? You take\\n these bored housewives, married\\n to the same guy for years. Stuck\\n in a rut. They need some\\n release. The promise of\\n \",\n \"toward the back of the warehouse and then leaves. Harry is\\n left alone in the vast space.\\n\\n Only a few lights are on, rendering the place somewhat Gothic.\\n Harry strolls in the direction the workman pointed. Ahead of\\n him, is the huge facade of a royal tomb. There is a flickering\\n light inside. A shadow moves across the wall in the entryway.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Hello?\\n\\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARR\",\n \"INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\\n\\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\\n crosses quickly to a window and opens it onto a terrace. *\\n\\n\\n 11 EXT. BALCONIES - NIGHT *\\n\\n Harry goes onto the terrace, and in a display of acrobatic *\\n prowess, he pulls himself up onto the third floor balcony *\\n directly above. He lets himself into-- *\\n\\n\\n 12 INT.\",\n \"\\n You're going to stay in school.\\n Do you understand?\\n\\n DANA\\n Why? So I can wind up like you?\\n What's the point?\\n\\n You think Harry's going to really rain on her parade. But he\\n doesn't. He becomes very tender. He pushes the hair back from\\n her face.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Did I tell you about the time we\\n first met?\\n\\n She looks up at him,\",\n \"he is telling the truth.\\n\\n HELEN *\\n (grinning) *\\n It wore off.\\n\\n At that moment, they hear yelling from the cinder-block\\n building.\\n\\n HARRY\\n They found the bodies. Come on--\\n\\n\\n 249 EXT. SWAMP - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry takes her hand and they sprint for cover at the edge of\\n the mangrove swamp. A LIGHT HITS THEM\",\n \"\\n No one must know! Especially\\n him. You must appear to live\\n your life normally, conveying\\n nothing. The security of this\\n nation depends on it. Can you do\\n that?\\n\\n HELEN\\n I think so.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Think carefully. You will be\\n lying to the man you love. The\\n person who trusts you the most.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (fearless)\\n\",\n \"exist and yells at the terrorists to\\n remove the other weapons. Jackhammers tear into the stone\\n figures.\\n\\n Helen is just staring at Harry, her mouth open. He turns to\\n her, not knowing what to say. He shrugs sheepishly.\\n\\n HARRY\\n What can I say? I'm a spy.\\n\\n She just looks at him for a long time. She moves closer,\\n staring and staring, letting it sink in. Then she hauls off\\n and slugs him\",\n \"to ask Harry\\n a few questions. See, we're not\\n even sure which agency Harry\\n works for. Now, Samir is\\n absolutely first class, but on\\n the other hand we have Harry,\\n here, who has managed to lie\\n convincingly to the woman he\\n loves for 15 years. So it will\\n be interesting to see how long he\\n can resist.\\n\\n SAMIR\\n (holding up a syringe)\\n This\",\n \" Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\\n\\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\\n is captivatingly beautiful\",\n \" You sick?\\n\\n Harry leans against the car for support.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (barely audible)\\n He-- Helen. Helen-- it's Helen.\\n It's Helen, Gib.\\n\\n GIB\\n Something to do with Helen, is\\n what I'm getting.\\n\\n HARRY\\n She's having an affair.\\n\\n Harry's best friend in the world brightens with the news. He\\n slaps him on the back\"\n ],\n [\n \"Giving Harry the\\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly.\\n\\n Helen is flat blown away. Wow. It only took a few seconds for\\n Harry to reverse the situation. Her Harry! He picks up the\\n guard's 9mm pistol and staggers over to her.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Don't move.\\n\\n He kneels down in front of her. Gently he slips his hands\\n between her thigh\",\n \"67 EXT. UNDERWATER - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry is still swimming. He reaches the edge of the fire and\\n surfaces, gasping for breath. Treading water he scans the\\n dock.\\n\\n\\n 268 EXT. WATER OF THE DOCK - HARRY'S POV - NIGHT\\n\\n Amid the fire and smoke, he sees Juno walking Helen at gun\\n point toward a LIMO.\\n\\n\\n 269 EXT. WAREHOUSE - N\",\n \"aping directly for his throat. Harry grabs the dog\\n and shot-puts him up into a tree without breaking stride. Dog\\n Fu. The dog yelps and scrambles to hold onto an icy branch,\\n looking down in amazement.\\n\\n\\n 27 EXT. PERIMETER WALL/ MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry leaps down on the outside of the wall, hitting a snow\\n bank and sliding downhill. He sprints down the gentle slope\\n toward the highway.\\n\\n \",\n \"has just\\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\\n\\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry\",\n \"and seizes him in a two-\\n hand neck-breaker-- SNAP.\\n\\n Two more run around the corner of a building. Harry stomps his *\\n foot down on one of the AKs, which is lying across a log. It *\\n flips into the air and he catches it in firing position . . *\\n . and takes them out with two well-aimed bursts. Helen comes *\\n out of the shadows staring at Harry in amazement. His shirt is\\n ripped, he is scrat\",\n \"!!\\n The horse's hoofs thunder on the roof as they go full tilt\\n toward the edge.\\n\\n But a horse is not a motorcycle. It is slightly smarter. It\\n slams its front hoofs down together, stopping suddenly. Harry\\n goes right over its head. He flies forward, almost going right\\n off the roof. He slams to the edge, with his legs dangling\\n over, holding onto a piece of pipe with one hand. His Glock\\n tumbles down into darkness.\\n\\n Harry\",\n \"Harry)\\n And what makes you think you can\\n do all that?\\n\\n HARRY\\n Because I picked the lock on\\n these handcuffs...\\n\\n He holds them up to show Samir. Then he explodes out of the\\n chair-- Breaks the torturer's neck-- Spins him between himself\\n and the guard-- Who then hesitates to fire-- Giving Harry the\\n split second he needs to grab the knife from the table and\\n throw it into the guard's eye, killing him instantly\",\n \"Harry's head. Harry grabs\\n his daughter with his left hand, holding her with all his\\n strength and he-- Jinks the stick hard, just as-- Malik opens\\n fire, but-- The plane tilts wildly and Malik topples, screaming--\\n He slides along the wing, and falls over the leading edge--\\n Only to catch himself on the only available hand-hold-- The\\n last Sidewinder missile.\\n\\n\\n 322 EXT. HARRIER / SIDEWINDER - DAY\\n\\n Harry\",\n \"looking around wildly for a way\\n out. Harry charges in, ducking to avoid the chandelier.\\n Waiters, trays, dinners, tables... everything seems to be\\n flying at once as people dive out of the way.\\n\\n\\n 95 INT. HOTEL - MAIN HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n MALIK skids out into the main hall by another door, and sees--\\n the ELEVATORS. The door is just closing on one of them. He\\n guns it and slides through the doors\",\n \"the bushes and out onto the street.\\n Cars skid around him, out of control. He turns south. Weaving\\n through traffic. Harry leaps the hedgerow behind Malik and\\n gallops among the spun-out cars. He goes right over the hood\\n on one which is blocking his path. The driver ducks as the\\n horse's hoof cracks the windshield.\\n\\n\\n 92 EXT. STREET/ HYATT REGENCY HOTEL - NIGHT\\n\\n Up ahead traffic is stopped\",\n \". He gathers\\n the animal and LEAPS (in glorious SLOW MOTION) over the\\n bassist, who is diving for the carpet. Harry and horse land\\n deftly and then he urges his mount right up the steps after\\n Malik.\\n\\n\\n 94 INT. HOTEL RESTAURANT - NIGHT\\n\\n Malik roars between the tables, looking around wildly for a way\\n out. Harry charges in, ducking to avoid the chandelier.\\n Waiters, tr\",\n \"sees the chopper start an attack run. He comes out into\\n the open, going straight downhill like a rocket. The chopper\\n gets suckered in... trying to hit him, getting right down\\n behind him... and suddenly-- Harry slides to a stop in an\\n explosion of powder and whips up the rifle. P-P-P-POW! He\\n rakes a burst across the windshield. The startled pilot\\n swerves and-- Suddenly two tall pine trees are right in front\\n of him.\\n\\n K\",\n \"it back onto its rightful finger. *\\n\\n He leans forward to kiss her. She reaches for him. Their lips *\\n meet.\\n\\n\\n 297 EXT. CAUSEWAY - HARRIERS IN BACKGROUND - DAY\\n\\n And they are locked together in that position when the sky\\n lights up behind them. Talk about fireworks. Harry covers her *\\n eyes and they stay in the kiss. *\\n\\n They are in no danger, but the effect is stunning. The\",\n \"wreckage on the bridge, the\\n whole unbelievable panorama.\\n\\n Then she looks at Harry and-- Grins. She's alive! And so is\\n he. And not only that, this is the biggest rush of her life.\\n Harry grins back. Surprised and pleased that she is more of a\\n soul-mate than he ever knew.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n\\n 294 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY\\n\\n ANGLE ON A HARRI\",\n \"the\\n surface above him. Harry kicks hard, trying to swim beyond the\\n inferno above him so he can surface.\\n\\n\\n 266 EXT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n CLOSE ON HELEN, watching the burning wreckage of the gas truck.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Oh my God. Harry.\\n\\n A PISTOL ENTERS FRAME. Its muzzle taps the back of her head.\\n She gasps and turns to see-- JUNO, holding the\",\n \"\\n opens fire from upslope. Rounds whacking against the disabled\\n helicopter.\\n\\n Harry looks down the slope and gets an idea. He jerks the\\n unconscious pilot out and pushes on the fuselage, rocking it.\\n It slips over the edge. He leaps inside as it topples forward\\n and slides down the slope.\\n\\n\\n 30 INT./ EXT. HELICOPTER - MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry adds throttle and works the footpedals,\",\n \"shield. The startled pilot\\n swerves and-- Suddenly two tall pine trees are right in front\\n of him.\\n\\n K-WHACK! The main-rotor blade snaps clean off and the chopper\\n drops into the snow, plowing into a snowbank. It slides right\\n to the edge of a steep ridge and stops, teetering.\\n\\n Firing from a snowmobile, one of the guards puts a burst right\\n across Harry's path. Harry's skis are hit and he tumbles,\\n \",\n \"behind\\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\\n vicious street-fighter moves. Harry looks upslope as--\\n\\n A service gate opens in the perimeter wall and TEAMS OF\\n SECURITY MEN in white snow-suits pour out, some on skis, some\\n on SNOWMOBILES. A HELICOPTER rises over the wall in a blast of\\n swirling snow. Its xenon lights rake through the trees,\\n casting lur\",\n \"INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\\n\\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\\n crosses quickly to a window and opens it onto a terrace. *\\n\\n\\n 11 EXT. BALCONIES - NIGHT *\\n\\n Harry goes onto the terrace, and in a display of acrobatic *\\n prowess, he pulls himself up onto the third floor balcony *\\n directly above. He lets himself into-- *\\n\\n\\n 12 INT.\",\n \"ON HARRY, running. Ahead is a MOUNTED COP. Harry doesn't\\n break stride, heading right for the cop on the horse. The cop\\n turns, surprised, a split second before-- Harry pulls him off\\n the horse and slams him to the ground (he's wearing a helmet).\\n\\n HARRY\\n Federal Officer in pursuit of\\n suspect! Sorry.\\n\\n Harry is in the saddle and galloping after Malik before the cop\\n can get his gut out of the holster to stop\"\n ],\n [\n \" Why?\\n\\n FAISIL\\n (he shrugs)\\n Probably because it sounds scary. *\\n\\n TRILBY\\n This is impressive, gentlemen.\\n Of course, it would have been\\n even more impressive if you\\n actually knew where he was.\\n\\n HARRY\\n We'll get him.\\n\\n TRILBY\\n Yes. You will.\\n (meaning-- you damn\\n well better)\\n Harry,\",\n \"NEARBY, Akbar is going through the contents of Helen's handbag\\n and Harry's wallet. He rips open the bottom stitching and\\n pulls out the geo-positioning transmitter.\\n\\n AKBAR\\n Abu! Look at this! *\\n\\n Malik looks at the tracker and then smashes it to the floor.\\n Helen looks at the crushed transmitter. She stares at Harry\\n with dawning realization.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You bugged me?\",\n \"the passing waiters. He nods to someone as if he\\n knows them. Greets another is quite fluent Arabic. People in\\n his wake look at each other like \\\"Do you know him?\\\" They\\n shrug, go on with their conversation. Harry moves through the\\n crowd. Scanning.\\n\\n HARRY\\n There's Daddy Petrobucks.\\n\\n HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\\n of the party and owner of the\",\n \"\\n\\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\\n is captivatingly beautiful, and her gaze is piercing.\\n\\n HARRY\\n (indicating the bas-\\n relief)\\n Magnificent, isn't it?\\n\\n WOMAN\\n Yes. Hi, I'm Juno Skinner. I\\n thought I knew most of Khaled's\\n friends but I don't believe I\\n know you.\",\n \" Harry is at one of the urinals, apparently taking a leak.\\n Mahmoud goes to the mirror. Starts combing his hair. He\\n doesn't much notice the pack of Camels sitting on the counter\\n nearby. Harry is whistling. Shaking himself.\\n\\n HARRY'S POV - In the video glasses Harry sees himself and\\n Mahmoud. Yusif comes into the restroom, seemingly ignoring\\n both Harry and Mahmoud, as if heading for the stalls. As he\\n passes behind\",\n \"HARRY'S POV - Through the crowd is sees JAMAL KHALED, the host\\n of the party and owner of the chateau. He is fat and animated,\\n greeting guests with a flourish. As Harry watches he warmly *\\n greets a beautiful WOMAN. They become absorbed in a *\\n conversation.\\n\\n The woman glances up and sees Harry checking her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\",\n \"the ship. A rusting\\n gantry crane trundles it into the warehouse. Malik looks up as\\n an AEROSPATIALE HELICOPTER thunders toward them over the black\\n Caribbean water.\\n\\n The helicopter lands and Juno steps down from the front door.\\n The sliding door is opened and Akbar and the others pull a\\n groggy Harry and Helen out of the aircraft. They are covered\\n by hoods.\\n\\n Malik walks up to them and pulls their hoods off. Harry takes\",\n \"He doesn't meet her\\n gaze. She nods and they go into the private office.\\n\\n\\n 59 INT. JUNO'S OFFICE - DAY\\n\\n MALIK comes in behind her and closes the door. The moment they\\n are away from public observation, his manner changes. His\\n humble posture straightens and his eyes flash intensely as he\\n approaches her. Without warning he SLAPS HER HARD ACROSS THE\\n FACE.\\n\\n MALIK\\n \",\n \".\\n\\n HARRY\\n (In Arabic/ subtitled)\\n Where's the john around here? I\\n have to take a major leak.\\n\\n The guard points warily down the corridor. Harry nods and\\n heads that way, back toward the party.\\n\\n\\n 16 INT. MAIN HALL/ STAIRCASE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n\",\n \". The van doors open and the hostages are\\n brought out. Harry sees a long black LIMO pulling up behind\\n the van. The driver, an enormous man names AKBAR, hurries to\\n open the passenger door. A slender pair of ankles emerge,\\n followed by the rest of Juno Skinner, looking devastatingly\\n beautiful but now quite sinister.\\n\\n To Helen it is like a living James Bond film, with the jet, the\\n limo, the terrorists, and now an exotic femme fatale,\",\n \"And sudden pandemonium as Malik roars through the lobby, with\\n Harry charging along behind him. Malik guns it across the\\n lounge, knocking over tables. He gets air at the top of the\\n steps going up to the RESTAURANT.\\n\\n Harry swerves to avoid a panicking guest and finds himself\\n careening toward the JAZZ QUARTET at a full gallop. He gathers\\n the animal and LEAPS (in glorious SLOW MOTION) over the\\n bassist, who is\",\n \"struggling for the gun.\\n Yusif, locked to Harry, hurls him against the stalls. They hit\\n a locked door, which pops open, banging inward.\\n\\n Yusif drives Harry to the floor. Harry's head is between the\\n shoes of an OLD GUY sitting on the can, who looks down\\n uncomprehendingly at him.\\n\\n Yusif slams Harry's gun hand repeatedly against the doorframe\\n of the stall. He twists Harry's wrist brutally. He\",\n \"sweating, wondering if he\\n should interrupt. He gulps nervously as Malik drones on.\\n\\n MALIK\\n -- But now the Oppressed have *\\n been given a mighty sword, to *\\n strike back at their enemies. *\\n Unless the US pulls all military\\n forces out of the Persian Gulf\\n area, immediately and forever,\\n Crimson Jihad will rain fire on\\n one major US city each week until\\n these demands are\",\n \"has just\\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\\n\\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry\",\n \"car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry. There eyes meet for a moment, just before Malik's\\n car ascends rapidly. Malik's malevolent glare is etched on\\n Harry's retinas.\\n\\n The older couple is jammed against the side-wall by Harry's\\n panting, snorting horse. It clomps around the tight elevator.\\n The woman is trying to crawl between her husband and the\",\n \"looking around wildly for a way\\n out. Harry charges in, ducking to avoid the chandelier.\\n Waiters, trays, dinners, tables... everything seems to be\\n flying at once as people dive out of the way.\\n\\n\\n 95 INT. HOTEL - MAIN HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n MALIK skids out into the main hall by another door, and sees--\\n the ELEVATORS. The door is just closing on one of them. He\\n guns it and slides through the doors\",\n \" So intently that he doesn't head Harry sneak up on\\n him. SNAP. Harry catches the guard's MAC-10 machine pistol\\n before it can hit the floor. He and Helen crouch behind a\\n steel pillar, watching the proceedings below. Helen keeps\\n glancing at the dead guard, killed so effortlessly a moment\\n before by her husband. It is all surreal.\\n\\n BELOW, MALIK is shouting in his native language. He pulls a\\n chain from around his neck and holds\",\n \"barely\\n see him move. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Three .45 slugs go through\\n Mahmoud's chest, shattering the mirror behind him. He flops on\\n his butt, slumping against the wall.\\n\\n Yusif, who is easily Harry's size, bellows and grabs his gun\\n arm. They smash against the walls, struggling for the gun.\\n Yusif, locked to Harry, hurls him against the stalls. They hit\\n a locked door,\",\n \"There are three men in the car. YUSIF and MAHMOUD are in the\\n front, with Mahmoud driving. In the back, shadowed, we can\\n just make out ABU MALIK. Yusif is massively built, with a body\\n like a beer-keg. Mahmoud is skinny and intense.\\n\\n \\n 73 OMITTED *\\n\\n\\n 74 INT./EXT. GIB'S CAR - MALL - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry puts\",\n \" He acquiesces as\\n they pull him to his feet.\\n\\n HELEN\\n He's got nothing to do with this.\\n It's me you want, right?\\n\\n HARRY\\n (to lead TERRORIST)\\n Let the hooker go. She's not\\n important.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Harry, be quiet. Let me handle\\n this.\\n\\n LEAD TERRORIST\\n Shutup, both of you.\"\n ],\n [\n \"has just\\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The animal barely\\n fits, nose to tail, in what turns out to be--\\n\\n A GLASS ELEVATOR with a view of the whole atrium of the hotel\\n as it rises, right to the top of the building. Harry looks\\n through the glass at the elevator car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry\",\n \"INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\\n\\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\\n crosses quickly to a window and opens it onto a terrace. *\\n\\n\\n 11 EXT. BALCONIES - NIGHT *\\n\\n Harry goes onto the terrace, and in a display of acrobatic *\\n prowess, he pulls himself up onto the third floor balcony *\\n directly above. He lets himself into-- *\\n\\n\\n 12 INT.\",\n \"looking around wildly for a way\\n out. Harry charges in, ducking to avoid the chandelier.\\n Waiters, trays, dinners, tables... everything seems to be\\n flying at once as people dive out of the way.\\n\\n\\n 95 INT. HOTEL - MAIN HALL - NIGHT\\n\\n MALIK skids out into the main hall by another door, and sees--\\n the ELEVATORS. The door is just closing on one of them. He\\n guns it and slides through the doors\",\n \"of the wall, hitting a snow\\n bank and sliding downhill. He sprints down the gentle slope\\n toward the highway.\\n\\n Harry looks back as TWO GUARDS ON SKIS come out of a guard\\n station beside the main entrance.\\n\\n TRACKING WITH THE SKI-GUARDS, searching through the trees with\\n lights. They have lost Harry. They stop. A snowbank behind\\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\\n vicious street-fighter moves\",\n \"!!\\n The horse's hoofs thunder on the roof as they go full tilt\\n toward the edge.\\n\\n But a horse is not a motorcycle. It is slightly smarter. It\\n slams its front hoofs down together, stopping suddenly. Harry\\n goes right over its head. He flies forward, almost going right\\n off the roof. He slams to the edge, with his legs dangling\\n over, holding onto a piece of pipe with one hand. His Glock\\n tumbles down into darkness.\\n\\n Harry\",\n \"the bushes and out onto the street.\\n Cars skid around him, out of control. He turns south. Weaving\\n through traffic. Harry leaps the hedgerow behind Malik and\\n gallops among the spun-out cars. He goes right over the hood\\n on one which is blocking his path. The driver ducks as the\\n horse's hoof cracks the windshield.\\n\\n\\n 92 EXT. STREET/ HYATT REGENCY HOTEL - NIGHT\\n\\n Up ahead traffic is stopped\",\n \"OTEL LOBBY - NIGHT\\n\\n Gib runs in with Faisil and Keough. They follow the path of\\n destruction, growing more and more amazed. Gib yells to one of\\n the porters.\\n\\n GIB\\n The guy on the horse?!\\n\\n The porter points at the elevators.\\n\\n\\n 98 INT. / EXT. SCENIC ELEVATORS - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry has slid off the horse to get next to the control panel.\\n He can look up at an\",\n \"car next to him, fifteen feet\\n away. Malik is inside, punching a button. He glances up and\\n sees Harry. There eyes meet for a moment, just before Malik's\\n car ascends rapidly. Malik's malevolent glare is etched on\\n Harry's retinas.\\n\\n The older couple is jammed against the side-wall by Harry's\\n panting, snorting horse. It clomps around the tight elevator.\\n The woman is trying to crawl between her husband and the\",\n \"into a fast one-\\n eighty and speeds back toward the edge of the roof. Amazingly,\\n he increases speed, ROARING RIGHT OFF THE EDGE, ARCING THE\\n BIKE SUICIDALLY OUT INTO SPACE!\\n\\n Harry rides to the edge in time to see Malik, on his bike,\\n CLEAR A 60 FOOT JUMP and SPLASH INTO THE ROOFTOP POOL of a *\\n LOWER BUILDING next to the hotel!\\n\\n Harry is\",\n \"aping directly for his throat. Harry grabs the dog\\n and shot-puts him up into a tree without breaking stride. Dog\\n Fu. The dog yelps and scrambles to hold onto an icy branch,\\n looking down in amazement.\\n\\n\\n 27 EXT. PERIMETER WALL/ MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry leaps down on the outside of the wall, hitting a snow\\n bank and sliding downhill. He sprints down the gentle slope\\n toward the highway.\\n\\n \",\n \"toward the back of the warehouse and then leaves. Harry is\\n left alone in the vast space.\\n\\n Only a few lights are on, rendering the place somewhat Gothic.\\n Harry strolls in the direction the workman pointed. Ahead of\\n him, is the huge facade of a royal tomb. There is a flickering\\n light inside. A shadow moves across the wall in the entryway.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Hello?\\n\\n He enters the stone doorway of the tomb. FOLLOWING HARR\",\n \"sees the chopper start an attack run. He comes out into\\n the open, going straight downhill like a rocket. The chopper\\n gets suckered in... trying to hit him, getting right down\\n behind him... and suddenly-- Harry slides to a stop in an\\n explosion of powder and whips up the rifle. P-P-P-POW! He\\n rakes a burst across the windshield. The startled pilot\\n swerves and-- Suddenly two tall pine trees are right in front\\n of him.\\n\\n K\",\n \"PLASH INTO THE ROOFTOP POOL of a *\\n LOWER BUILDING next to the hotel!\\n\\n Harry is out of control now, seeing the guy setting away. He\\n wheels his mount and charges across the roof to get some\\n running space. Then he turns again, back toward the edge Malik\\n jumped from. He kicks the horse's flanks and yells HAAHH!!\\n The horse's hoofs thunder on the roof as they go full tilt\\n toward the edge.\\n\\n But a horse is not\",\n \"LEVATORS - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry has slid off the horse to get next to the control panel.\\n He can look up at an angle and see Malik in the car above him.\\n His thumb hovers over the emergency stop button. If Malik gets\\n out at any floor, Harry will have a moment to react and stop.\\n Malik can look down and see this. He knows Harry's got him.\\n He just keeps going, floor after floor, using the time to\\n think.\\n\\n The older woman is still just staring, trying\",\n \"--\\n the ELEVATORS. The door is just closing on one of them. He\\n guns it and slides through the doors.\\n\\n HARRY RIDES out of the restaurant in time to catch a glimpse of\\n Malik as the doors close.\\n\\n\\n 96 INT. SCENIC ELEVATOR - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry canters the horse into the next elevator, which has just\\n been boarded by an older couple. He has to practically lie\\n down on the horse to fit through the door. The\",\n \"her out. There is\\n a frank moment of returned interest. Then the crowd shifts,\\n cutting off their view of each other.\\n\\n\\n 9 INT. STAIRCASE AND SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT\\n\\n Harry makes his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. *\\n He slips through doors into the private area of the mansion. *\\n\\n\\n 10 INT. LIBRARY - NIGHT\\n\\n The doors open and Harry slips into the darkened library. He *\\n cross\",\n \"And sudden pandemonium as Malik roars through the lobby, with\\n Harry charging along behind him. Malik guns it across the\\n lounge, knocking over tables. He gets air at the top of the\\n steps going up to the RESTAURANT.\\n\\n Harry swerves to avoid a panicking guest and finds himself\\n careening toward the JAZZ QUARTET at a full gallop. He gathers\\n the animal and LEAPS (in glorious SLOW MOTION) over the\\n bassist, who is\",\n \"behind\\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\\n vicious street-fighter moves. Harry looks upslope as--\\n\\n A service gate opens in the perimeter wall and TEAMS OF\\n SECURITY MEN in white snow-suits pour out, some on skis, some\\n on SNOWMOBILES. A HELICOPTER rises over the wall in a blast of\\n swirling snow. Its xenon lights rake through the trees,\\n casting lur\",\n \" Harry comes down the staircase amid the glitter of the party.\\n He is sipping champagne and looking bored. He sees two\\n security guys moving purposefully through the crowd toward the\\n stairs, walkies in their hands. He turns away as they pass him\\n and pretends to study a large fragment of bas-relief... a\\n temple frieze depicting a war chariot drawn by four horses.\\n\\n He senses someone next to him and turns. It is the WOMAN. She *\\n is captivatingly beautiful\",\n \" sets his gun down on the girder. He grabs for her wrist.\\n\\n\\n 312 EXT. ROOF - OVERLOOKING EDGE - DAY\\n\\n ANGLE LOOKING DOWN. Malik, Dana, the street far below. With\\n an unbelievable roar the Harrier sweeps in beneath Dana,\\n FILLING FRAME.\\n\\n\\n 313 EXT. CRANE BOOM / OVER EDGE - DAY\\n\\n Harry has the canopy\"\n ],\n [\n \"rier pilots stand nearby, watching the\\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\\n finger pressed in his ear, listening to his headset. He waves\\n to Harry to come to him.\\n\\n Harry detaches from Helen and walks over to him. Helen watches\\n him go... back to work. She glances over at the two Harrier\\n pilots.\\n\\n HELEN\\n (to the pilots)\\n That's my husband.\\n\\n HARRY goes into the hudd\",\n \"*\\n eyes and they stay in the kiss. *\\n\\n They are in no danger, but the effect is stunning. The classic *\\n mushroom cloud appears at the horizon. Helen watches, awed,\\n the most glorious and terrifying sight of our age.\\n\\n HELEN *\\n That was some kiss. *\\n\\n The two young Harrier pilots stand nearby, watching the\\n mushroom disperse. Gib is with the other Omega agents, his\\n finger pressed in his\",\n \" DANA\\n I'm done.\\n\\n Dana bolts. She has eaten about four bites. Harry sits at the\\n table, alone. He feels isolated, knowing that everybody is\\n lying to everybody else. He is a man without a center, lost.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n\\n 120 INT. OMEGA SECTOR/ LISTENING ROOM - DAY\\n\\n TRACKING ALONG THE BANK OF RECORDERS. Harry comes to a\\n particular\",\n \"DAY\\n\\n Gib and Harry pass through the inner door of the sally port\\n into a large austere atrium.\\n\\n ANGLE FROM ABOVE as they cross. A huge graphic logo covers the\\n floor. Across the center is says OMEGA SECTOR. In smaller\\n print, around the perimeter, is the motto: \\\"THE LAST LINE OF\\n DEFENSE\\\".\\n\\n They enter a high-tech office space. It is a maze of glass\\n partitions surrounding a central floor-space of cub\",\n \"and Harry are working out of brief-case mobile com-units.\\n Several Omega agents with headsets are reading maps, giving\\n commands, coordinating the evacuation, mobilizing their own\\n forces. The energy is controlled but very high, everybody\\n talking at once. This is the day they all have trained for.\\n It is impressive to watch.\\n\\n GIB\\n --you tell the son of bitch this\\n is Bright Boy Alert. Repeat,\\n a Bright Boy Alert. And I need\\n \",\n \"O\\n How?\\n\\n MALIK\\n Use the gifts that Allah has\\n given you.\\n\\n\\n 60 INT. TEKTEL SYSTEMS OFFICES - DUSK *\\n\\n The phone rings on the desk of CHARLENE, Harry's secretary at *\\n Tektel Systems, the permanent front-company for Omega Sector. *\\n\\n SECRETARY\\n Hello, Tektel Systems. Mr. *\\n Tasker'\",\n \"Helen it is like a living James Bond film, with the jet, the\\n limo, the terrorists, and now an exotic femme fatale, dressed\\n to kill, approaching them.\\n\\n JUNO\\n (with a wry smile)\\n Hello, Harry.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Juno. I wish I could say it's a\\n pleasure to see you again.\\n\\n HELEN\\n You know her?\\n\\n Juno signals with her eyes and the terrorists march the\\n\",\n \" clothes ripped and bloody. But okay.\\n\\n GIB\\n I thought this look like your\\n work.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Let's go. I'll brief you in the\\n air.\\n\\n GIB\\n You're welcome.\\n\\n\\n 272 INT. BELL 206 - DAY\\n\\n Gib and Harry are working out of brief-case mobile com-units.\\n Several Omega agents with headsets are reading maps, giving\\n commands,\",\n \" to go over there, honey.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Sure, hon.\\n\\n She walks unhurriedly out of the room. Behind her back, Harry\\n is grinning. The second Helen is out of his sight line, she\\n runs up the stairs. Harry waits a moment then picks up the\\n phone.\\n\\n\\n 226 INT. OMEGA SECTOR/ ELECTRONIC LAB -- NIGHT\\n\\n Gib is in a corner of the electronics lab, in an area dedicated\\n \",\n \"!\\n\\n GIB\\n Can we go to the office now, Mr.\\n Superspy?\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n\\n 109 INT. OMEGA SECTOR / I.D. ANALYSIS ROOM - DAY\\n\\n Harry is sitting at a computer workstation, lit by the monitor\\n screen. Gib and Faisil look on as he clicks through HEADSHOTS\\n of known terrorists. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. Harry is very\",\n \".\\n\\n HARRY\\n We should pick up visual at the\\n next light.\\n\\n The scrambler phone in Harry's briefcase rings. He picks it\\n up.\\n\\n HARRY\\n Morning, boss.\\n\\n\\n 215 INT. OMEGA SECTOR - DAY\\n\\n INTERCUT WITH SEDAN. Spencer Trilby stands glowering as he\\n talks to Harry.\\n\\n TRILBY\\n Harry, this report on last\\n\",\n \"was an American agent.\\n\\n\\n 201 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - NIGHT\\n\\n INSIDE THE CONTROL room we can see Harry, Gib and, through the\\n glass, Helen. Their voices sound normal on this side.\\n\\n HARRY\\n How long have you been a member\\n of his faction?\\n\\n HELEN\\n I don't know anything about a\\n faction. I just met Simon... or\\n whatever his name is... \",\n \"OMEGA SECTOR - NIGHT\\n\\n GIB, AT OMEGA SECTOR, uses the SPEECH SYNTHESIZER to disguise\\n his voice.\\n\\n GIB\\n Listen carefully. Go to the\\n Hotel Marquis in one hour. Pick\\n up an envelope marked Doris at\\n the front desk. And dress sexy.\\n\\n\\n 225 INT. TASKER HOUSE - NIGHT\\n\\n BACK ON HELEN as she reacts to that.\\n\\n \",\n \"room, with large-screen computer\\n displays at one end. Glowering at one end of the long,\\n polished table, is SPENCER TRILBY, the chief of Omega Sector.\\n Visualize a cross between Colin Powel and J. Edgar Hoover.\\n\\n TRILBY\\n Jesus, Harry! You guys really\\n screwed the pooch last night.\\n Please tell me how I can look at\\n this, that it's not a total pooch-\\n screw.\\n\\n\",\n \" (to Harry)\\n So now it's Tasker? Not\\n Renquist?\\n\\n\\n 239 INT. G-3 JET - NIGHT\\n\\n They enter the luxurious passenger cabin of the plane. Helen\\n has never seen anything like this.\\n\\n HELEN\\n Look, Harry's not part of this.\\n He's just a sales rep.\\n\\n JUNO\\n No, my dear, he is a federal\\n agent. He killed two of\",\n \"8 INT. OMEGA SECTOR / LISTENING ROOM - DAY\\n\\n Harry and Gib are in the LISTENING ROOM. Banks of tape-decks\\n recording calls, rows of technicians in cubicles processing and\\n collating transcripts.\\n\\n GIB\\n He's giving us a blank check on *\\n wiretaps. So I've set 'em up on\\n all of Juno's shipping agents,\\n her clients, and Faisil made up \",\n \"the other agents and runs after Helen.\\n She sprints through the trees, Harry pounding after her. He\\n grabs her and gets her in a headlock. She bites the hell out\\n of his arm. Harry yells and lets her go, just as-- Keough runs\\n up and matter-of-factly clips her on the head with his weapon.\\n Standard operating procedure. Which is why he can't understand\\n why Harry punches him, knocking him down.\\n\\n Harry supports a sagging Helen, gesturing sharply to\",\n \"he can't understand\\n why Harry punches him, knocking him down.\\n\\n Harry supports a sagging Helen, gesturing sharply to the other\\n agents and going RRRRR-RRRR to make his point (since he can't\\n talk without her recognizing his voice). They head for the\\n cars.\\n\\n CUT TO:\\n\\n\\n 198 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM/OBSERVATION CHAMBER - NIGHT\\n\\n An empty room with a single stool under a light, and\",\n \"mouth and turns slowly, scanning... revealing:\\n\\n HARRY TASKER. Our hero. Harry floats with just his eyes above\\n the surface, silent as a water snake, as a guard passes on a\\n footpath nearby.\\n\\n After a few beats Harry slips out of his tanks and fins,\\n letting them sink, and climbs the frozen ladder onto the dock.\\n He moves like a ninja into the shadows of the boathouse.\\n Opening a WATERPROOF BAG, he pulls out a walky\",\n \"behind\\n them EXPLODES as Harry leaps out. He disables them both with\\n vicious street-fighter moves. Harry looks upslope as--\\n\\n A service gate opens in the perimeter wall and TEAMS OF\\n SECURITY MEN in white snow-suits pour out, some on skis, some\\n on SNOWMOBILES. A HELICOPTER rises over the wall in a blast of\\n swirling snow. Its xenon lights rake through the trees,\\n casting lur\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["What happens after Harry suspects Juno of being in association with Aziz?","What organization frightens Simon into staying away from Helen?","What is Simon's real profession?","What destroyed the bridge after Harry rescues Helen?","Who does Faisal pretend to be?","What is Helen supposed to do on her secret spy mission after the Omega Sector scares away Simon?","How does Aziz plan on scaring away the US from the Persian Gulf?","Who is Aziz's organization?","What does Dana steal after she is rescued by Faisal?","What is the name of the counter-terrorism task force?","Who commanded the task force?","What is the name of Harry's wife?","What is the name of Harry's daughter?","What is the name of the terrorist cell that Harry discovers?","Which city have Aziz's men taken over a skyscraper in?","Who poses as part of the camera crew, and helps Dana escape?","Which area does the Crimson Jihad want the US military to leave?","Who shipped the statues that contained the warheads?","Which dance do Helen and Harry perform at the party?","What is the task force Harry works for?","What does Harry's family think he does?","Who attacks Harry?","What event has Harry missed at home?","Where are Harry and his wife taken?","Why does Harry reveal his secret life?","Who rescues Harry?","Who else has Aziz kidnapped?","How does Harry reach the skyscraper?","Who later becomes an Omega agent?"],"string":"[\n \"What happens after Harry suspects Juno of being in association with Aziz?\",\n \"What organization frightens Simon into staying away from Helen?\",\n \"What is Simon's real profession?\",\n \"What destroyed the bridge after Harry rescues Helen?\",\n \"Who does Faisal pretend to be?\",\n \"What is Helen supposed to do on her secret spy mission after the Omega Sector scares away Simon?\",\n \"How does Aziz plan on scaring away the US from the Persian Gulf?\",\n \"Who is Aziz's organization?\",\n \"What does Dana steal after she is rescued by Faisal?\",\n \"What is the name of the counter-terrorism task force?\",\n \"Who commanded the task force?\",\n \"What is the name of Harry's wife?\",\n \"What is the name of Harry's daughter?\",\n \"What is the name of the terrorist cell that Harry discovers?\",\n \"Which city have Aziz's men taken over a skyscraper in?\",\n \"Who poses as part of the camera crew, and helps Dana escape?\",\n \"Which area does the Crimson Jihad want the US military to leave?\",\n \"Who shipped the statues that contained the warheads?\",\n \"Which dance do Helen and Harry perform at the party?\",\n \"What is the task force Harry works for?\",\n \"What does Harry's family think he does?\",\n \"Who attacks Harry?\",\n \"What event has Harry missed at home?\",\n \"Where are Harry and his wife taken?\",\n \"Why does Harry reveal his secret life?\",\n \"Who rescues Harry?\",\n \"Who else has Aziz kidnapped?\",\n \"How does Harry reach the skyscraper?\",\n \"Who later becomes an Omega agent?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["Harry is attacked by Aziz.","Harry is attacked by Azziz and his men"],["The Omega Sector.","The Omega Sector"],["Used car salesman.","used car salesman"],["Two Harrier Jump Jets.","Harrier Jump Jets"],["A camera crew member for Aziz.","part of a camera crew requested by Aziz to make his demands"],["Seduce her husband and plant a tracking device on him.","She is to seduce a mysterious person. "],["By blowing up US cities with warheads hidden inside of antique statues.","Aziz threatens to detonate small nuclear warheads in US cities. "],["Crimson Jihad.","Crimson Jihad. "],["An ignition key.","ignition key"],["The Omega Sector","The Omega Sector"],["Spencer Trilby","Spencer Trilby"],["Helen","Helen"],["Dana","Dana"],[" Crimson Jihad","Crimson Jihad. "],["Miami","Miami"],["Faisal","Faisal"],["The Persian Gulf","Persian Gulf"],["Juno","Juno"],["Tango","the Tango"],["The Omega Sector.","The Omega Sector"],["They think he is a computer salesman.","Computer salesman"],["Aziz.","Aziz"],["A birthday party.","His birthday party"],["The Florida Keys.","An Island"],["He is given a truth serum.","because he was given a truth serum"],["The Omega agents.","Omega agents"],["Dana.","Dana. "],["By jet.","he takes one of the Harrier Jump Jets"],["Helen.","Helen"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"Harry is attacked by Aziz.\",\n \"Harry is attacked by Azziz and his men\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Omega Sector.\",\n \"The Omega Sector\"\n ],\n [\n \"Used car salesman.\",\n \"used car salesman\"\n ],\n [\n \"Two Harrier Jump Jets.\",\n \"Harrier Jump Jets\"\n ],\n [\n \"A camera crew member for Aziz.\",\n \"part of a camera crew requested by Aziz to make his demands\"\n ],\n [\n \"Seduce her husband and plant a tracking device on him.\",\n \"She is to seduce a mysterious person. \"\n ],\n [\n \"By blowing up US cities with warheads hidden inside of antique statues.\",\n \"Aziz threatens to detonate small nuclear warheads in US cities. \"\n ],\n [\n \"Crimson Jihad.\",\n \"Crimson Jihad. \"\n ],\n [\n \"An ignition key.\",\n \"ignition key\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Omega Sector\",\n \"The Omega Sector\"\n ],\n [\n \"Spencer Trilby\",\n \"Spencer Trilby\"\n ],\n [\n \"Helen\",\n \"Helen\"\n ],\n [\n \"Dana\",\n \"Dana\"\n ],\n [\n \" Crimson Jihad\",\n \"Crimson Jihad. \"\n ],\n [\n \"Miami\",\n \"Miami\"\n ],\n [\n \"Faisal\",\n \"Faisal\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Persian Gulf\",\n \"Persian Gulf\"\n ],\n [\n \"Juno\",\n \"Juno\"\n ],\n [\n \"Tango\",\n \"the Tango\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Omega Sector.\",\n \"The Omega Sector\"\n ],\n [\n \"They think he is a computer salesman.\",\n \"Computer salesman\"\n ],\n [\n \"Aziz.\",\n \"Aziz\"\n ],\n [\n \"A birthday party.\",\n \"His birthday party\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Florida Keys.\",\n \"An Island\"\n ],\n [\n \"He is given a truth serum.\",\n \"because he was given a truth serum\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Omega agents.\",\n \"Omega agents\"\n ],\n [\n \"Dana.\",\n \"Dana. \"\n ],\n [\n \"By jet.\",\n \"he takes one of the Harrier Jump Jets\"\n ],\n [\n \"Helen.\",\n \"Helen\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"f5255dcda3e92492cca0b95687bf01d0908b07b4"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":36,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play","\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\nsoon out of debt.\"\n\n\"A fable,\" remarked Herman; \"perhaps the cards were marked.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,","Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\" said\nTomsky. \"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\"\n\n\"Why?\" inquired a chorus of voices.\n\n\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses to gamble,\" objected Naroumov.\n\n\"Have you never heard her story?\"\n\n\"No--\"\n\n\"Well, then, listen to it. To begin with, sixty years ago my grandmother\nwent to Paris, where she was all the fashion. People crowded each other\nin the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro,","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\n\n\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\n\n\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\nto know.\"\n\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\nwhiffs, then continued:\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\n\n\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\" cried a young officer, who had just\nentered the room. \"I have come to ask a favor of you.\"\n\n\"What, Pavel?\"\n\n\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked","in the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro, then. On one occasion, while\nplaying with the Duke of Orleans, she lost an enormous sum. She told her\nhusband of the debt, but he refused outright to pay it. Nothing could\ninduce him to change his mind on the subject, and grandmother was at\nher wits' ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\nhave","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made","obeyed her summons and found her\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\nfriendship and generosity.\n\n\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a","ed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n\n\"How much is that?\" asked the banker; \"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\nwell.\"\n\n\"Forty thousand rubles,\" said Herman coolly.\n\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\n\n\"He has lost his wits,\" thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\""],["fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As",". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\nNow I am afraid to do so.\"\n\n\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\" replied Herman.\n\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\n\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n","end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\nexpect to find you there on my return.\"\n\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door","ed at last by the following:\n\n\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\n\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework",". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into","obeyed her summons and found her\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\nfriendship and generosity.\n\n\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother."],["had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\n\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\" said\nTomsky. \"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\"\n\n\"Why?\" inquired a chorus of voices.\n\n\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As","ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\nhave been told about him. He is said to have discovered the elixir of\nlife, the philosopher's stone, and many other equally marvelous things.\nHe had money at his disposal, and my grandmother knew it. She sent him a\nnote asking him to come to see her. He obeyed her summons and found her\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\ncolors, and ended by telling",". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\nNow I am afraid to do so.\"\n\n\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\" replied Herman.\n\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\n\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","obeyed her summons and found her\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\nfriendship and generosity.\n\n\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.","tered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched the proceedings with a curiosity not unmingled with\nsuperstitious fear. When at last she was attired in cap and gown, the\nold woman looked less uncanny than when she wore her ball-dress of blue\nbrocade.\n\nShe sat down in an easy chair beside a table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and","rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,","spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\n\n\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\" cried a young officer, who had just\nentered the room. \"I have come to ask a favor of you.\"\n\n\"What, Pavel?\"\n\n\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","ed at last by the following:\n\n\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and"],["of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As",". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\nNow I am afraid to do so.\"\n\n\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\" replied Herman.\n\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\n\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity","rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n","tered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched the proceedings with a curiosity not unmingled with\nsuperstitious fear. When at last she was attired in cap and gown, the\nold woman looked less uncanny than when she wore her ball-dress of blue\nbrocade.\n\nShe sat down in an easy chair beside a table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,","his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\n\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\nexpect to find you there on my return.\"\n\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely",". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into"],[". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n","\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\nsoon out of debt.\"\n\n\"A fable,\" remarked Herman; \"perhaps the cards were marked.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\n\n\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\n\n\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\nto know.\"\n\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\nwhiffs, then continued:\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a","of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\n\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\n\n\"The tray wins,\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\n\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand","\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman, and all other thoughts\nfrom the brain of the young officer. All his ideas merged into a single\none: how to turn to advantage the secret paid for so dearly. He even\nthought of resigning his commission and going to Paris to force a\nfortune from conquered fate. Chance rescued him from his embarrassment.\n\n*****\n\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\na","his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\n\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","tered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched the proceedings with a curiosity not unmingled with\nsuperstitious fear. When at last she was attired in cap and gown, the\nold woman looked less uncanny than when she wore her ball-dress of blue\nbrocade.\n\nShe sat down in an easy chair beside a table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count"],["\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a","of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\n\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\n\n\"The tray wins,\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\n\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath",". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\n\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\nagain.\n\n\"Permit me to choose a card,\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n","ed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n\n\"How much is that?\" asked the banker; \"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\nwell.\"\n\n\"Forty thousand rubles,\" said Herman coolly.\n\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\n\n\"He has lost his wits,\" thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\"","\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\nsoon out of debt.\"\n\n\"A fable,\" remarked Herman; \"perhaps the cards were marked.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n","\n\n\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\nI never win.\"\n\n\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\" remarked one of the\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \"Here you are\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\nplayed nor bet all night.\"\n\n\"Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"","banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a seven spot. The onlookers exclaimed,\nand the host was visibly disturbed. He counted out ninety-four-thousand\nrubles and passed them to Herman, who accepted them without showing the\nleast surprise, and at once withdrew.\n\nThe following evening he went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He","\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","ued him from his embarrassment.\n\n*****\n\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\na club at St. Petersburg. His long experience secured for him the\nconfidence of his companions, and his hospitality and genial humor\nconciliated society.\n\nThe gilded youth flocked around him, neglecting society, preferring the\ncharms of faro to those of their sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\nonly too willingly.\n","in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled, and the gambling went on.\n\nHerman became a lunatic. He was confined at the hospital at Oboukov,\nwhere he spoke to no one, but kept constantly murmuring in a monotonous\ntone: \"The tray, seven, ace! The tray, seven, queen!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Queen Of Spades, by \nAlexander Sergeievitch P","\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman, and all other thoughts\nfrom the brain of the young officer. All his ideas merged into a single\none: how to turn to advantage the secret paid for so dearly. He even\nthought of resigning his commission and going to Paris to force a\nfortune from conquered fate. Chance rescued him from his embarrassment.\n\n*****\n\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\na"],["\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"",". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled, and the gambling went on.\n\nHerman became a lunatic. He was confined at the hospital at Oboukov,\nwhere he spoke to no one, but kept constantly murmuring in a monotonous\ntone: \"The tray, seven, ace! The tray, seven, queen!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Queen Of Spades, by \nAlexander Sergeievitch P","\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\nsoon out of debt.\"\n\n\"A fable,\" remarked Herman; \"perhaps the cards were marked.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a","of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\n\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\n\n\"The tray wins,\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\n\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand"," GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEEN OF SPADES ***\n\n\n\n\nProduced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE QUEEN OF SPADES\n\nBy Alexander Sergeievitch Poushkin\n\nTranslated by H. Twitchell\n\nCopyright, 1901, by The Current Literature Publishing Company\n\n\nAT the house of Naroumov, a cavalry officer, the long winter night had\nbeen passed in gambling. At five in the morning breakfast was served\nto the weary players.","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\n\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\nagain.\n\n\"Permit me to choose a card,\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n","ed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n\n\"How much is that?\" asked the banker; \"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\nwell.\"\n\n\"Forty thousand rubles,\" said Herman coolly.\n\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\n\n\"He has lost his wits,\" thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\"","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n"],["Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","\n\n\"No; why do you ask?\"\n\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\n\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and, left to herself, Lisaveta glanced\nout of the window. Soon, a young officer appeared at the corner of the\nstreet; the girl blushed and bent her head low over her canvas.\n\nThis appearance of the officer had become a daily occurrence. The man\nwas totally unknown to her, and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked up to the window where\nLisaveta Ivanovna sat.\n\n\"Whom do you wish to present?\" asked the girl.\n\n\"Naroumov; do you know him?\"\n\n\"No; is he a soldier?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"An engineer?\"\n\n\"No; why do you ask?\"\n\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\n\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and,","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,","\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after the Countess, she felt herself jostled and a note was\nthrust into her hand. Turning, she saw the young officer at her elbow.\nAs quick as thought, she put the note in her glove and entered the\ncarriage. On her return from the drive, she hastened to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection","his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework","spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\n\n\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\" cried a young officer, who had just\nentered the room. \"I have come to ask a favor of you.\"\n\n\"What, Pavel?\"\n\n\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked","to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\n\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\npapers and entered a",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\" said\nTomsky. \"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\"\n\n\"Why?\" inquired a chorus of voices.\n\n\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses"],["\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As","end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\nexpect to find you there on my return.\"\n\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\n\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made"],["\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made","\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","banker.\n\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\naround his lips.\n\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n",". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\nNow I am afraid to do so.\"\n\n\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\" replied Herman.\n\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\n\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a"],["Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked up to the window where\nLisaveta Ivanovna sat.\n\n\"Whom do you wish to present?\" asked the girl.\n\n\"Naroumov; do you know him?\"\n\n\"No; is he a soldier?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"An engineer?\"\n\n\"No; why do you ask?\"\n\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\n\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and,","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\n\n\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\" cried a young officer, who had just\nentered the room. \"I have come to ask a favor of you.\"\n\n\"What, Pavel?\"\n\n\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked","banker.\n\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\naround his lips.\n\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As","\n\n\"No; why do you ask?\"\n\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\n\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and, left to herself, Lisaveta glanced\nout of the window. Soon, a young officer appeared at the corner of the\nstreet; the girl blushed and bent her head low over her canvas.\n\nThis appearance of the officer had become a daily occurrence. The man\nwas totally unknown to her, and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence","his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework","\n\n\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\nI never win.\"\n\n\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\" remarked one of the\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \"Here you are\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\nplayed nor bet all night.\"\n\n\"Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"","to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\n\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\npapers and entered a","ed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n\n\"How much is that?\" asked the banker; \"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\nwell.\"\n\n\"Forty thousand rubles,\" said Herman coolly.\n\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\n\n\"He has lost his wits,\" thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\"","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\"\n\n\"What of it?\" replied Herman, nettled. \"Do you accept it or not?\"\n\nThe banker nodded in assent. \"I have only to remind you that the cash\nwill be necessary; of course your word is good, but in order to keep the\nconfidence of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\n","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath"],["Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\" said\nTomsky. \"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\"\n\n\"Why?\" inquired a chorus of voices.\n\n\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses","spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\n\n\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\" cried a young officer, who had just\nentered the room. \"I have come to ask a favor of you.\"\n\n\"What, Pavel?\"\n\n\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked","ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\nhave been told about him. He is said to have discovered the elixir of\nlife, the philosopher's stone, and many other equally marvelous things.\nHe had money at his disposal, and my grandmother knew it. She sent him a\nnote asking him to come to see her. He obeyed her summons and found her\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\ncolors, and ended by telling","his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","obeyed her summons and found her\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\nfriendship and generosity.\n\n\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","in the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro, then. On one occasion, while\nplaying with the Duke of Orleans, she lost an enormous sum. She told her\nhusband of the debt, but he refused outright to pay it. Nothing could\ninduce him to change his mind on the subject, and grandmother was at\nher wits' ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\nhave","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","ed at last by the following:\n\n\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and","add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\n\n\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\n\n\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\nto know.\"\n\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\nwhiffs, then continued:\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","tered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched the proceedings with a curiosity not unmingled with\nsuperstitious fear. When at last she was attired in cap and gown, the\nold woman looked less uncanny than when she wore her ball-dress of blue\nbrocade.\n\nShe sat down in an easy chair beside a table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and","his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\n\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said","understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses to gamble,\" objected Naroumov.\n\n\"Have you never heard her story?\"\n\n\"No--\"\n\n\"Well, then, listen to it. To begin with, sixty years ago my grandmother\nwent to Paris, where she was all the fashion. People crowded each other\nin the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro,","\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her",". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\nNow I am afraid to do so.\"\n\n\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\" replied Herman.\n\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\n\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity"],["\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play","Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\" said\nTomsky. \"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\"\n\n\"Why?\" inquired a chorus of voices.\n\n\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses","\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\nsoon out of debt.\"\n\n\"A fable,\" remarked Herman; \"perhaps the cards were marked.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\n\n\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\n\n\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\nto know.\"\n\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\nwhiffs, then continued:\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n","understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses to gamble,\" objected Naroumov.\n\n\"Have you never heard her story?\"\n\n\"No--\"\n\n\"Well, then, listen to it. To begin with, sixty years ago my grandmother\nwent to Paris, where she was all the fashion. People crowded each other\nin the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro,","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","ued him from his embarrassment.\n\n*****\n\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\na club at St. Petersburg. His long experience secured for him the\nconfidence of his companions, and his hospitality and genial humor\nconciliated society.\n\nThe gilded youth flocked around him, neglecting society, preferring the\ncharms of faro to those of their sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\nonly too willingly.\n","ed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n\n\"How much is that?\" asked the banker; \"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\nwell.\"\n\n\"Forty thousand rubles,\" said Herman coolly.\n\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\n\n\"He has lost his wits,\" thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\"","of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\n\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\n\n\"The tray wins,\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\n\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand","banker.\n\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\naround his lips.\n\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions","table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\n\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\nagain.\n\n\"Permit me to choose a card,\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n","to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked up to the window where\nLisaveta Ivanovna sat.\n\n\"Whom do you wish to present?\" asked the girl.\n\n\"Naroumov; do you know him?\"\n\n\"No; is he a soldier?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"An engineer?\"\n\n\"No; why do you ask?\"\n\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\n\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and,","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a"],["to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\n\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\npapers and entered a","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made","\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As",". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\nNow I am afraid to do so.\"\n\n\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\" replied Herman.\n\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\n\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity","\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after the Countess, she felt herself jostled and a note was\nthrust into her hand. Turning, she saw the young officer at her elbow.\nAs quick as thought, she put the note in her glove and entered the\ncarriage. On her return from the drive, she hastened to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n","end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\nexpect to find you there on my return.\"\n\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door","opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\npapers and entered a shop to read them.\n\nIn no wise daunted by this rebuff, he found the opportunity to send\nher another note in a few days. He received no reply, but, evidently\nunderstanding the female heart, he presevered, begging for an interview.\nHe was rewarded at last by the following:\n\n\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\no'clock","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,"],["had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As",". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\nNow I am afraid to do so.\"\n\n\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\" replied Herman.\n\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\n\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\n\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\nexpect to find you there on my return.\"\n\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","ed at last by the following:\n\n\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and",". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made","obeyed her summons and found her\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\nfriendship and generosity.\n\n\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,"],["had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As","\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made",". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\nNow I am afraid to do so.\"\n\n\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\" replied Herman.\n\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\n\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\nexpect to find you there on my return.\"\n\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\n\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \""],["the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made","to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\n\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\npapers and entered a","\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after the Countess, she felt herself jostled and a note was\nthrust into her hand. Turning, she saw the young officer at her elbow.\nAs quick as thought, she put the note in her glove and entered the\ncarriage. On her return from the drive, she hastened to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","\n\n\"No; why do you ask?\"\n\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\n\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and, left to herself, Lisaveta glanced\nout of the window. Soon, a young officer appeared at the corner of the\nstreet; the girl blushed and bent her head low over her canvas.\n\nThis appearance of the officer had become a daily occurrence. The man\nwas totally unknown to her, and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked up to the window where\nLisaveta Ivanovna sat.\n\n\"Whom do you wish to present?\" asked the girl.\n\n\"Naroumov; do you know him?\"\n\n\"No; is he a soldier?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"An engineer?\"\n\n\"No; why do you ask?\"\n\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\n\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and,",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,","his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n","spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\n\n\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\" cried a young officer, who had just\nentered the room. \"I have come to ask a favor of you.\"\n\n\"What, Pavel?\"\n\n\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath"],["ued him from his embarrassment.\n\n*****\n\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\na club at St. Petersburg. His long experience secured for him the\nconfidence of his companions, and his hospitality and genial humor\nconciliated society.\n\nThe gilded youth flocked around him, neglecting society, preferring the\ncharms of faro to those of their sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\nonly too willingly.\n","table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\n\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\nagain.\n\n\"Permit me to choose a card,\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a","of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\n\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\n\n\"The tray wins,\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\n\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n","banker.\n\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\naround his lips.\n\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions","\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\nsoon out of debt.\"\n\n\"A fable,\" remarked Herman; \"perhaps the cards were marked.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,",". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into","\n\n\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\nI never win.\"\n\n\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\" remarked one of the\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \"Here you are\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\nplayed nor bet all night.\"\n\n\"Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"","sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\nonly too willingly.\n\nThe two officers found the apartments full. Generals and statesmen\nplayed whist; young men lounged on sofas, eating ices or smoking. In\nthe principal salon stood a long table, at which about twenty men sat\nplaying faro, the host of the establishment being the banker.\n\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\nshone with genial","ed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n\n\"How much is that?\" asked the banker; \"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\nwell.\"\n\n\"Forty thousand rubles,\" said Herman coolly.\n\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\n\n\"He has lost his wits,\" thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\"","banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a seven spot. The onlookers exclaimed,\nand the host was visibly disturbed. He counted out ninety-four-thousand\nrubles and passed them to Herman, who accepted them without showing the\nleast surprise, and at once withdrew.\n\nThe following evening he went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He","thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\"\n\n\"What of it?\" replied Herman, nettled. \"Do you accept it or not?\"\n\nThe banker nodded in assent. \"I have only to remind you that the cash\nwill be necessary; of course your word is good, but in order to keep the\nconfidence of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\n","Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\" said\nTomsky. \"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\"\n\n\"Why?\" inquired a chorus of voices.\n\n\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her"],["to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked up to the window where\nLisaveta Ivanovna sat.\n\n\"Whom do you wish to present?\" asked the girl.\n\n\"Naroumov; do you know him?\"\n\n\"No; is he a soldier?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"An engineer?\"\n\n\"No; why do you ask?\"\n\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\n\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and,","\n\n\"No; why do you ask?\"\n\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\n\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and, left to herself, Lisaveta glanced\nout of the window. Soon, a young officer appeared at the corner of the\nstreet; the girl blushed and bent her head low over her canvas.\n\nThis appearance of the officer had become a daily occurrence. The man\nwas totally unknown to her, and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made","\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after the Countess, she felt herself jostled and a note was\nthrust into her hand. Turning, she saw the young officer at her elbow.\nAs quick as thought, she put the note in her glove and entered the\ncarriage. On her return from the drive, she hastened to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework","spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\n\n\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\" cried a young officer, who had just\nentered the room. \"I have come to ask a favor of you.\"\n\n\"What, Pavel?\"\n\n\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked","rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\n\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\npapers and entered a","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n","ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\nhave been told about him. He is said to have discovered the elixir of\nlife, the philosopher's stone, and many other equally marvelous things.\nHe had money at his disposal, and my grandmother knew it. She sent him a\nnote asking him to come to see her. He obeyed her summons and found her\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\ncolors, and ended by telling","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play","Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\" said\nTomsky. \"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\"\n\n\"Why?\" inquired a chorus of voices.\n\n\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses"],["is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after the Countess, she felt herself jostled and a note was\nthrust into her hand. Turning, she saw the young officer at her elbow.\nAs quick as thought, she put the note in her glove and entered the\ncarriage. On her return from the drive, she hastened to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection","to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked up to the window where\nLisaveta Ivanovna sat.\n\n\"Whom do you wish to present?\" asked the girl.\n\n\"Naroumov; do you know him?\"\n\n\"No; is he a soldier?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"An engineer?\"\n\n\"No; why do you ask?\"\n\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\n\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and,","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n","\n\n\"No; why do you ask?\"\n\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\n\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and, left to herself, Lisaveta glanced\nout of the window. Soon, a young officer appeared at the corner of the\nstreet; the girl blushed and bent her head low over her canvas.\n\nThis appearance of the officer had become a daily occurrence. The man\nwas totally unknown to her, and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence","rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,","to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\n\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\npapers and entered a","ed at last by the following:\n\n\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and","spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\n\n\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\" cried a young officer, who had just\nentered the room. \"I have come to ask a favor of you.\"\n\n\"What, Pavel?\"\n\n\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath"],[". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into","\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\nsoon out of debt.\"\n\n\"A fable,\" remarked Herman; \"perhaps the cards were marked.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\n\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\n\n\"The tray wins,\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\n\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n","table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\n\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\nagain.\n\n\"Permit me to choose a card,\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a","\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman, and all other thoughts\nfrom the brain of the young officer. All his ideas merged into a single\none: how to turn to advantage the secret paid for so dearly. He even\nthought of resigning his commission and going to Paris to force a\nfortune from conquered fate. Chance rescued him from his embarrassment.\n\n*****\n\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\na","banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a seven spot. The onlookers exclaimed,\nand the host was visibly disturbed. He counted out ninety-four-thousand\nrubles and passed them to Herman, who accepted them without showing the\nleast surprise, and at once withdrew.\n\nThe following evening he went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He","add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\n\n\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\n\n\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\nto know.\"\n\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\nwhiffs, then continued:\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.","\n\n\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\nI never win.\"\n\n\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\" remarked one of the\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \"Here you are\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\nplayed nor bet all night.\"\n\n\"Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"","ed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n\n\"How much is that?\" asked the banker; \"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\nwell.\"\n\n\"Forty thousand rubles,\" said Herman coolly.\n\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\n\n\"He has lost his wits,\" thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\"","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,"],["table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\n\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\nagain.\n\n\"Permit me to choose a card,\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n","\n\n\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\nI never win.\"\n\n\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\" remarked one of the\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \"Here you are\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\nplayed nor bet all night.\"\n\n\"Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"","ued him from his embarrassment.\n\n*****\n\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\na club at St. Petersburg. His long experience secured for him the\nconfidence of his companions, and his hospitality and genial humor\nconciliated society.\n\nThe gilded youth flocked around him, neglecting society, preferring the\ncharms of faro to those of their sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\nonly too willingly.\n","ed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n\n\"How much is that?\" asked the banker; \"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\nwell.\"\n\n\"Forty thousand rubles,\" said Herman coolly.\n\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\n\n\"He has lost his wits,\" thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\"","a cavalry officer, the long winter night had\nbeen passed in gambling. At five in the morning breakfast was served\nto the weary players. The winners ate with relish; the losers, on the\ncontrary, pushed back their plates and sat brooding gloomily. Under\nthe influence of the good wine, however, the conversation then became\ngeneral.\n\n\"Well, Sourine?\" said the host inquiringly.\n\n\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\nI never win.\"\n\n\"","of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\n\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\n\n\"The tray wins,\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\n\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a","sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\nonly too willingly.\n\nThe two officers found the apartments full. Generals and statesmen\nplayed whist; young men lounged on sofas, eating ices or smoking. In\nthe principal salon stood a long table, at which about twenty men sat\nplaying faro, the host of the establishment being the banker.\n\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\nshone with genial","Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\" said\nTomsky. \"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\"\n\n\"Why?\" inquired a chorus of voices.\n\n\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses","\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\nsoon out of debt.\"\n\n\"A fable,\" remarked Herman; \"perhaps the cards were marked.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,","\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","banker.\n\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\naround his lips.\n\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions","understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses to gamble,\" objected Naroumov.\n\n\"Have you never heard her story?\"\n\n\"No--\"\n\n\"Well, then, listen to it. To begin with, sixty years ago my grandmother\nwent to Paris, where she was all the fashion. People crowded each other\nin the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro,",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\"\n\n\"What of it?\" replied Herman, nettled. \"Do you accept it or not?\"\n\nThe banker nodded in assent. \"I have only to remind you that the cash\nwill be necessary; of course your word is good, but in order to keep the\nconfidence of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\n","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a seven spot. The onlookers exclaimed,\nand the host was visibly disturbed. He counted out ninety-four-thousand\nrubles and passed them to Herman, who accepted them without showing the\nleast surprise, and at once withdrew.\n\nThe following evening he went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He","\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play"],["\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely",". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\nNow I am afraid to do so.\"\n\n\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\" replied Herman.\n\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\n\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity","rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\nexpect to find you there on my return.\"\n\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\n\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\npapers and entered a","spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\n\n\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\" cried a young officer, who had just\nentered the room. \"I have come to ask a favor of you.\"\n\n\"What, Pavel?\"\n\n\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked"],["said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after",". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\n\n\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\n\n\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\nto know.\"\n\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\nwhiffs, then continued:\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.","\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play","\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\nsoon out of debt.\"\n\n\"A fable,\" remarked Herman; \"perhaps the cards were marked.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n","in the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro, then. On one occasion, while\nplaying with the Duke of Orleans, she lost an enormous sum. She told her\nhusband of the debt, but he refused outright to pay it. Nothing could\ninduce him to change his mind on the subject, and grandmother was at\nher wits' ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\nhave","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","obeyed her summons and found her\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\nfriendship and generosity.\n\n\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.","\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\" said\nTomsky. \"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\"\n\n\"Why?\" inquired a chorus of voices.\n\n\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses","ed at last by the following:\n\n\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a"],["tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence.\n\n\"You are a monster!\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\n\n\"How are you going to get out of the house?\" inquired Lisa. \"It is\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\n","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\n\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said",". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\nNow I am afraid to do so.\"\n\n\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\" replied Herman.\n\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\n\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity","\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\n\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\nsilence","end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\nexpect to find you there on my return.\"\n\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made",". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into","ed at last by the following:\n\n\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\nthis room and","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","obeyed her summons and found her\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\nfriendship and generosity.\n\n\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother."],[", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her",". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into","\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\nsoon out of debt.\"\n\n\"A fable,\" remarked Herman; \"perhaps the cards were marked.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a","of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\n\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\n\n\"The tray wins,\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\n\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand","table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\n\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\nagain.\n\n\"Permit me to choose a card,\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made","banker.\n\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\naround his lips.\n\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,","banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a seven spot. The onlookers exclaimed,\nand the host was visibly disturbed. He counted out ninety-four-thousand\nrubles and passed them to Herman, who accepted them without showing the\nleast surprise, and at once withdrew.\n\nThe following evening he went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He"],["Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\n\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\nmore than she supposed he did.\n\n\"Of whom are you speaking?\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","\nadventure had been discovered.\n\n\"Of the remarkable man,\" was the reply. \"His name is Herman.\"\n\nLisa made no reply.\n\n\"This Herman,\" continued Tomsky, \"is a romantic character; he has the\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\"\n\n\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you","\n\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\nundressing.\n\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon","table, as she was in the habit\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\n\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\n\n\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Count","is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\nHerman?\"\n\n\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\"\n\n\"Where has he seen me?\"\n\n\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her.","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\nthe return of the old Countess.\n\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\nHerman watched","tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\n\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\nhe saw that she was dead!\n\n*****\n\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\nshe felt relieved to see that he was","of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\nsteps to look into the casket. As","had acted. She was thinking of all this\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\nviolently.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\n\n\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"My God! What are you saying?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\"\n\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through","then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\n\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","\n\n\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\nI never win.\"\n\n\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\" remarked one of the\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \"Here you are\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\nplayed nor bet all night.\"\n\n\"Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"","to her chamber to\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\n\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\npapers and entered a","banker.\n\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\naround his lips.\n\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions","spent as much time at\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\n\n\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\" cried a young officer, who had just\nentered the room. \"I have come to ask a favor of you.\"\n\n\"What, Pavel?\"\n\n\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\"\n\n\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\"\n\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked"],["said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely","of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\n\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\n\n\"The tray wins,\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\n\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand","\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","ed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n\n\"How much is that?\" asked the banker; \"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\nwell.\"\n\n\"Forty thousand rubles,\" said Herman coolly.\n\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\n\n\"He has lost his wits,\" thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\"","\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\nsoon out of debt.\"\n\n\"A fable,\" remarked Herman; \"perhaps the cards were marked.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,","table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\n\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\nagain.\n\n\"Permit me to choose a card,\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n",". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into","\n\n\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\nI never win.\"\n\n\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\" remarked one of the\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \"Here you are\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\nplayed nor bet all night.\"\n\n\"Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"","\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a seven spot. The onlookers exclaimed,\nand the host was visibly disturbed. He counted out ninety-four-thousand\nrubles and passed them to Herman, who accepted them without showing the\nleast surprise, and at once withdrew.\n\nThe following evening he went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He","Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\" said\nTomsky. \"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\"\n\n\"Why?\" inquired a chorus of voices.\n\n\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","banker.\n\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\naround his lips.\n\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\npolitely answering all questions","thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\"\n\n\"What of it?\" replied Herman, nettled. \"Do you accept it or not?\"\n\nThe banker nodded in assent. \"I have only to remind you that the cash\nwill be necessary; of course your word is good, but in order to keep the\nconfidence of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\n","ued him from his embarrassment.\n\n*****\n\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\na club at St. Petersburg. His long experience secured for him the\nconfidence of his companions, and his hospitality and genial humor\nconciliated society.\n\nThe gilded youth flocked around him, neglecting society, preferring the\ncharms of faro to those of their sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\nonly too willingly.\n"],["\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\n\n\"The old woman!\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled","went again. His appearance was the signal for\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\n\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\n\n\"The ace wins,\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\nit.\n\n\"Your queen is killed,\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\n\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely"," GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEEN OF SPADES ***\n\n\n\n\nProduced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE QUEEN OF SPADES\n\nBy Alexander Sergeievitch Poushkin\n\nTranslated by H. Twitchell\n\nCopyright, 1901, by The Current Literature Publishing Company\n\n\nAT the house of Naroumov, a cavalry officer, the long winter night had\nbeen passed in gambling. At five in the morning breakfast was served\nto the weary players.",", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\nfor such he seemed to be.\n\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"","in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\nshuffled, and the gambling went on.\n\nHerman became a lunatic. He was confined at the hospital at Oboukov,\nwhere he spoke to no one, but kept constantly murmuring in a monotonous\ntone: \"The tray, seven, ace! The tray, seven, queen!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Queen Of Spades, by \nAlexander Sergeievitch P",". She came\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\n\n\"I have come to you against my will,\" she said abruptly; \"but I was\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\nagain.\"\n\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\n\nHe rose and went out into","\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\nsoon out of debt.\"\n\n\"A fable,\" remarked Herman; \"perhaps the cards were marked.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,","the young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\n\n\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\" came from the\nwithered lips.\n\n\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath","said Herman, in a calm voice. \"I have not\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\"\n\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\n\n\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\" pleaded\nthe young man; \"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\nand--\"\n\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her","pay his debts.\"\n\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\n\n\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\" asked Herman\nafter a pause.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \"You old\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\"\n\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\nthrew back her head and put out her","bler, whose imagination had been strongly\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought, \"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\"\n\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\nabout the desired acquaintance.\n\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\ncarriage after","add to your embarrassment.\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\n\n\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\n\n\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\n\n\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\nto know.\"\n\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\nwhiffs, then continued:\n\n\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.","\n\n\"I hardly think so,\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\n\n\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\"\n\n\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play","in the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro, then. On one occasion, while\nplaying with the Duke of Orleans, she lost an enormous sum. She told her\nhusband of the debt, but he refused outright to pay it. Nothing could\ninduce him to change his mind on the subject, and grandmother was at\nher wits' ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\nhave","\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman, and all other thoughts\nfrom the brain of the young officer. All his ideas merged into a single\none: how to turn to advantage the secret paid for so dearly. He even\nthought of resigning his commission and going to Paris to force a\nfortune from conquered fate. Chance rescued him from his embarrassment.\n\n*****\n\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\na","on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\ndebts.\"\n\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\nand taking his leave.\n","of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\"\n\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\n\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\n\n\"The tray wins,\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\n\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand","crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\nthe table.\n\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\n\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\n\nHerman then showed his card--a","Play interests me greatly,\" replied the person addressed, \"but I hardly\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\"\n\n\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\" said\nTomsky. \"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\"\n\n\"Why?\" inquired a chorus of voices.\n\n\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\nrefuses","ed\nwithout replying.\n\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\npiece of chalk.\n\n\"How much is that?\" asked the banker; \"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\nwell.\"\n\n\"Forty thousand rubles,\" said Herman coolly.\n\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\n\n\"He has lost his wits,\" thought Naroumov.\n\n\"Allow me to observe,\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \"that\nyour stake is excessive.\""]],"string":"[\n [\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\\nsoon out of debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fable,\\\" remarked Herman; \\\"perhaps the cards were marked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,\",\n \"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\\\" said\\nTomsky. \\\"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" inquired a chorus of voices.\\n\\n\\\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses to gamble,\\\" objected Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Have you never heard her story?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, then, listen to it. To begin with, sixty years ago my grandmother\\nwent to Paris, where she was all the fashion. People crowded each other\\nin the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro,\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\\n\\n\\\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\\n\\n\\\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\\nto know.\\\"\\n\\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\\nwhiffs, then continued:\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\\n\\n\\\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\\\" cried a young officer, who had just\\nentered the room. \\\"I have come to ask a favor of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What, Pavel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked\",\n \"in the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro, then. On one occasion, while\\nplaying with the Duke of Orleans, she lost an enormous sum. She told her\\nhusband of the debt, but he refused outright to pay it. Nothing could\\ninduce him to change his mind on the subject, and grandmother was at\\nher wits' ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\\nhave\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \"obeyed her summons and found her\\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\\nfriendship and generosity.\\n\\n\\\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\",\n \"ed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\\n\\\"How much is that?\\\" asked the banker; \\\"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\\nwell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Forty thousand rubles,\\\" said Herman coolly.\\n\\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\\n\\n\\\"He has lost his wits,\\\" thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\"\n ],\n [\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\nNow I am afraid to do so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\\\" replied Herman.\\n\\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\\n\\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \"end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\\nexpect to find you there on my return.\\\"\\n\\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\",\n \"ed at last by the following:\\n\\n\\\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\\n\\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework\",\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\",\n \"obeyed her summons and found her\\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\\nfriendship and generosity.\\n\\n\\\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\"\n ],\n [\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\\n\\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\\\" said\\nTomsky. \\\"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" inquired a chorus of voices.\\n\\n\\\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \"ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\\nhave been told about him. He is said to have discovered the elixir of\\nlife, the philosopher's stone, and many other equally marvelous things.\\nHe had money at his disposal, and my grandmother knew it. She sent him a\\nnote asking him to come to see her. He obeyed her summons and found her\\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\\ncolors, and ended by telling\",\n \". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\nNow I am afraid to do so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\\\" replied Herman.\\n\\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\\n\\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"obeyed her summons and found her\\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\\nfriendship and generosity.\\n\\n\\\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\",\n \"tered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched the proceedings with a curiosity not unmingled with\\nsuperstitious fear. When at last she was attired in cap and gown, the\\nold woman looked less uncanny than when she wore her ball-dress of blue\\nbrocade.\\n\\nShe sat down in an easy chair beside a table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and\",\n \"rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,\",\n \"spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\\n\\n\\\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\\\" cried a young officer, who had just\\nentered the room. \\\"I have come to ask a favor of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What, Pavel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"ed at last by the following:\\n\\n\\\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and\"\n ],\n [\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\nNow I am afraid to do so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\\\" replied Herman.\\n\\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\\n\\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity\",\n \"rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \"tered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched the proceedings with a curiosity not unmingled with\\nsuperstitious fear. When at last she was attired in cap and gown, the\\nold woman looked less uncanny than when she wore her ball-dress of blue\\nbrocade.\\n\\nShe sat down in an easy chair beside a table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\",\n \"his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\\n\\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\\nexpect to find you there on my return.\\\"\\n\\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\"\n ],\n [\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\\nsoon out of debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fable,\\\" remarked Herman; \\\"perhaps the cards were marked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\\n\\n\\\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\\n\\n\\\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\\nto know.\\\"\\n\\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\\nwhiffs, then continued:\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\",\n \"of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\\n\\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\\n\\n\\\"The tray wins,\\\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\\n\\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand\",\n \"\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman, and all other thoughts\\nfrom the brain of the young officer. All his ideas merged into a single\\none: how to turn to advantage the secret paid for so dearly. He even\\nthought of resigning his commission and going to Paris to force a\\nfortune from conquered fate. Chance rescued him from his embarrassment.\\n\\n*****\\n\\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\\na\",\n \"his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\\n\\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"tered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched the proceedings with a curiosity not unmingled with\\nsuperstitious fear. When at last she was attired in cap and gown, the\\nold woman looked less uncanny than when she wore her ball-dress of blue\\nbrocade.\\n\\nShe sat down in an easy chair beside a table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\",\n \"of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\\n\\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\\n\\n\\\"The tray wins,\\\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\\n\\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\\n\\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\\nagain.\\n\\n\\\"Permit me to choose a card,\\\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\",\n \"ed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\\n\\\"How much is that?\\\" asked the banker; \\\"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\\nwell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Forty thousand rubles,\\\" said Herman coolly.\\n\\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\\n\\n\\\"He has lost his wits,\\\" thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\\nsoon out of debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fable,\\\" remarked Herman; \\\"perhaps the cards were marked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\\nI never win.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\\\" remarked one of the\\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \\\"Here you are\\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\\nplayed nor bet all night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a seven spot. The onlookers exclaimed,\\nand the host was visibly disturbed. He counted out ninety-four-thousand\\nrubles and passed them to Herman, who accepted them without showing the\\nleast surprise, and at once withdrew.\\n\\nThe following evening he went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"ued him from his embarrassment.\\n\\n*****\\n\\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\\na club at St. Petersburg. His long experience secured for him the\\nconfidence of his companions, and his hospitality and genial humor\\nconciliated society.\\n\\nThe gilded youth flocked around him, neglecting society, preferring the\\ncharms of faro to those of their sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\\nonly too willingly.\\n\",\n \"in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled, and the gambling went on.\\n\\nHerman became a lunatic. He was confined at the hospital at Oboukov,\\nwhere he spoke to no one, but kept constantly murmuring in a monotonous\\ntone: \\\"The tray, seven, ace! The tray, seven, queen!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Queen Of Spades, by \\nAlexander Sergeievitch P\",\n \"\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman, and all other thoughts\\nfrom the brain of the young officer. All his ideas merged into a single\\none: how to turn to advantage the secret paid for so dearly. He even\\nthought of resigning his commission and going to Paris to force a\\nfortune from conquered fate. Chance rescued him from his embarrassment.\\n\\n*****\\n\\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\\na\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled, and the gambling went on.\\n\\nHerman became a lunatic. He was confined at the hospital at Oboukov,\\nwhere he spoke to no one, but kept constantly murmuring in a monotonous\\ntone: \\\"The tray, seven, ace! The tray, seven, queen!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Queen Of Spades, by \\nAlexander Sergeievitch P\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\\nsoon out of debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fable,\\\" remarked Herman; \\\"perhaps the cards were marked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\",\n \"of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\\n\\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\\n\\n\\\"The tray wins,\\\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\\n\\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand\",\n \" GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEEN OF SPADES ***\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nProduced by David Widger\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nTHE QUEEN OF SPADES\\n\\nBy Alexander Sergeievitch Poushkin\\n\\nTranslated by H. Twitchell\\n\\nCopyright, 1901, by The Current Literature Publishing Company\\n\\n\\nAT the house of Naroumov, a cavalry officer, the long winter night had\\nbeen passed in gambling. At five in the morning breakfast was served\\nto the weary players.\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\\n\\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\\nagain.\\n\\n\\\"Permit me to choose a card,\\\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\",\n \"ed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\\n\\\"How much is that?\\\" asked the banker; \\\"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\\nwell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Forty thousand rubles,\\\" said Herman coolly.\\n\\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\\n\\n\\\"He has lost his wits,\\\" thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"No; why do you ask?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\\n\\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and, left to herself, Lisaveta glanced\\nout of the window. Soon, a young officer appeared at the corner of the\\nstreet; the girl blushed and bent her head low over her canvas.\\n\\nThis appearance of the officer had become a daily occurrence. The man\\nwas totally unknown to her, and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked up to the window where\\nLisaveta Ivanovna sat.\\n\\n\\\"Whom do you wish to present?\\\" asked the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Naroumov; do you know him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No; is he a soldier?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An engineer?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No; why do you ask?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\\n\\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and,\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,\",\n \"\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after the Countess, she felt herself jostled and a note was\\nthrust into her hand. Turning, she saw the young officer at her elbow.\\nAs quick as thought, she put the note in her glove and entered the\\ncarriage. On her return from the drive, she hastened to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection\",\n \"his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework\",\n \"spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\\n\\n\\\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\\\" cried a young officer, who had just\\nentered the room. \\\"I have come to ask a favor of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What, Pavel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked\",\n \"to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\\n\\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\\npapers and entered a\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\\\" said\\nTomsky. \\\"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" inquired a chorus of voices.\\n\\n\\\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \"end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\\nexpect to find you there on my return.\\\"\\n\\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\\n\\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"banker.\\n\\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\\naround his lips.\\n\\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\nNow I am afraid to do so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\\\" replied Herman.\\n\\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\\n\\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\"\n ],\n [\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked up to the window where\\nLisaveta Ivanovna sat.\\n\\n\\\"Whom do you wish to present?\\\" asked the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Naroumov; do you know him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No; is he a soldier?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An engineer?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No; why do you ask?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\\n\\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and,\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\\n\\n\\\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\\\" cried a young officer, who had just\\nentered the room. \\\"I have come to ask a favor of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What, Pavel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked\",\n \"banker.\\n\\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\\naround his lips.\\n\\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"No; why do you ask?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\\n\\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and, left to herself, Lisaveta glanced\\nout of the window. Soon, a young officer appeared at the corner of the\\nstreet; the girl blushed and bent her head low over her canvas.\\n\\nThis appearance of the officer had become a daily occurrence. The man\\nwas totally unknown to her, and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence\",\n \"his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\\nI never win.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\\\" remarked one of the\\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \\\"Here you are\\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\\nplayed nor bet all night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\\n\\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\\npapers and entered a\",\n \"ed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\\n\\\"How much is that?\\\" asked the banker; \\\"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\\nwell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Forty thousand rubles,\\\" said Herman coolly.\\n\\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\\n\\n\\\"He has lost his wits,\\\" thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What of it?\\\" replied Herman, nettled. \\\"Do you accept it or not?\\\"\\n\\nThe banker nodded in assent. \\\"I have only to remind you that the cash\\nwill be necessary; of course your word is good, but in order to keep the\\nconfidence of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\n\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\"\n ],\n [\n \"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\\\" said\\nTomsky. \\\"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" inquired a chorus of voices.\\n\\n\\\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses\",\n \"spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\\n\\n\\\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\\\" cried a young officer, who had just\\nentered the room. \\\"I have come to ask a favor of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What, Pavel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked\",\n \"ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\\nhave been told about him. He is said to have discovered the elixir of\\nlife, the philosopher's stone, and many other equally marvelous things.\\nHe had money at his disposal, and my grandmother knew it. She sent him a\\nnote asking him to come to see her. He obeyed her summons and found her\\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\\ncolors, and ended by telling\",\n \"his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"obeyed her summons and found her\\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\\nfriendship and generosity.\\n\\n\\\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"in the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro, then. On one occasion, while\\nplaying with the Duke of Orleans, she lost an enormous sum. She told her\\nhusband of the debt, but he refused outright to pay it. Nothing could\\ninduce him to change his mind on the subject, and grandmother was at\\nher wits' ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\\nhave\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"ed at last by the following:\\n\\n\\\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and\",\n \"add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\\n\\n\\\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\\n\\n\\\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\\nto know.\\\"\\n\\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\\nwhiffs, then continued:\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"tered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched the proceedings with a curiosity not unmingled with\\nsuperstitious fear. When at last she was attired in cap and gown, the\\nold woman looked less uncanny than when she wore her ball-dress of blue\\nbrocade.\\n\\nShe sat down in an easy chair beside a table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and\",\n \"his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\\n\\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said\",\n \"understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses to gamble,\\\" objected Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Have you never heard her story?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, then, listen to it. To begin with, sixty years ago my grandmother\\nwent to Paris, where she was all the fashion. People crowded each other\\nin the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro,\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\nNow I am afraid to do so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\\\" replied Herman.\\n\\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\\n\\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\",\n \"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\\\" said\\nTomsky. \\\"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" inquired a chorus of voices.\\n\\n\\\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\\nsoon out of debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fable,\\\" remarked Herman; \\\"perhaps the cards were marked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\\n\\n\\\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\\n\\n\\\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\\nto know.\\\"\\n\\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\\nwhiffs, then continued:\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\",\n \"understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses to gamble,\\\" objected Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Have you never heard her story?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, then, listen to it. To begin with, sixty years ago my grandmother\\nwent to Paris, where she was all the fashion. People crowded each other\\nin the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro,\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"ued him from his embarrassment.\\n\\n*****\\n\\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\\na club at St. Petersburg. His long experience secured for him the\\nconfidence of his companions, and his hospitality and genial humor\\nconciliated society.\\n\\nThe gilded youth flocked around him, neglecting society, preferring the\\ncharms of faro to those of their sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\\nonly too willingly.\\n\",\n \"ed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\\n\\\"How much is that?\\\" asked the banker; \\\"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\\nwell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Forty thousand rubles,\\\" said Herman coolly.\\n\\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\\n\\n\\\"He has lost his wits,\\\" thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\",\n \"of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\\n\\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\\n\\n\\\"The tray wins,\\\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\\n\\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand\",\n \"banker.\\n\\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\\naround his lips.\\n\\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions\",\n \"table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\\n\\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\\nagain.\\n\\n\\\"Permit me to choose a card,\\\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\",\n \"to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked up to the window where\\nLisaveta Ivanovna sat.\\n\\n\\\"Whom do you wish to present?\\\" asked the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Naroumov; do you know him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No; is he a soldier?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An engineer?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No; why do you ask?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\\n\\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and,\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\"\n ],\n [\n \"to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\\n\\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\\npapers and entered a\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\nNow I am afraid to do so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\\\" replied Herman.\\n\\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\\n\\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity\",\n \"\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after the Countess, she felt herself jostled and a note was\\nthrust into her hand. Turning, she saw the young officer at her elbow.\\nAs quick as thought, she put the note in her glove and entered the\\ncarriage. On her return from the drive, she hastened to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \"end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\\nexpect to find you there on my return.\\\"\\n\\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\",\n \"opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\\npapers and entered a shop to read them.\\n\\nIn no wise daunted by this rebuff, he found the opportunity to send\\nher another note in a few days. He received no reply, but, evidently\\nunderstanding the female heart, he presevered, begging for an interview.\\nHe was rewarded at last by the following:\\n\\n\\\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\\no'clock\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\"\n ],\n [\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\nNow I am afraid to do so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\\\" replied Herman.\\n\\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\\n\\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\\n\\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\\nexpect to find you there on my return.\\\"\\n\\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"ed at last by the following:\\n\\n\\\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and\",\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \"obeyed her summons and found her\\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\\nfriendship and generosity.\\n\\n\\\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\"\n ],\n [\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\nNow I am afraid to do so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\\\" replied Herman.\\n\\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\\n\\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\\nexpect to find you there on my return.\\\"\\n\\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\\n\\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\"\n ],\n [\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \"to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\\n\\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\\npapers and entered a\",\n \"\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after the Countess, she felt herself jostled and a note was\\nthrust into her hand. Turning, she saw the young officer at her elbow.\\nAs quick as thought, she put the note in her glove and entered the\\ncarriage. On her return from the drive, she hastened to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"No; why do you ask?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\\n\\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and, left to herself, Lisaveta glanced\\nout of the window. Soon, a young officer appeared at the corner of the\\nstreet; the girl blushed and bent her head low over her canvas.\\n\\nThis appearance of the officer had become a daily occurrence. The man\\nwas totally unknown to her, and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked up to the window where\\nLisaveta Ivanovna sat.\\n\\n\\\"Whom do you wish to present?\\\" asked the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Naroumov; do you know him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No; is he a soldier?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An engineer?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No; why do you ask?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\\n\\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and,\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,\",\n \"his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \"spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\\n\\n\\\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\\\" cried a young officer, who had just\\nentered the room. \\\"I have come to ask a favor of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What, Pavel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\"\n ],\n [\n \"ued him from his embarrassment.\\n\\n*****\\n\\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\\na club at St. Petersburg. His long experience secured for him the\\nconfidence of his companions, and his hospitality and genial humor\\nconciliated society.\\n\\nThe gilded youth flocked around him, neglecting society, preferring the\\ncharms of faro to those of their sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\\nonly too willingly.\\n\",\n \"table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\\n\\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\\nagain.\\n\\n\\\"Permit me to choose a card,\\\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\",\n \"of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\\n\\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\\n\\n\\\"The tray wins,\\\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\\n\\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\",\n \"banker.\\n\\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\\naround his lips.\\n\\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\\nsoon out of debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fable,\\\" remarked Herman; \\\"perhaps the cards were marked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,\",\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\\nI never win.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\\\" remarked one of the\\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \\\"Here you are\\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\\nplayed nor bet all night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\\nonly too willingly.\\n\\nThe two officers found the apartments full. Generals and statesmen\\nplayed whist; young men lounged on sofas, eating ices or smoking. In\\nthe principal salon stood a long table, at which about twenty men sat\\nplaying faro, the host of the establishment being the banker.\\n\\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\\nshone with genial\",\n \"ed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\\n\\\"How much is that?\\\" asked the banker; \\\"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\\nwell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Forty thousand rubles,\\\" said Herman coolly.\\n\\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\\n\\n\\\"He has lost his wits,\\\" thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\",\n \"banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a seven spot. The onlookers exclaimed,\\nand the host was visibly disturbed. He counted out ninety-four-thousand\\nrubles and passed them to Herman, who accepted them without showing the\\nleast surprise, and at once withdrew.\\n\\nThe following evening he went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He\",\n \"thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What of it?\\\" replied Herman, nettled. \\\"Do you accept it or not?\\\"\\n\\nThe banker nodded in assent. \\\"I have only to remind you that the cash\\nwill be necessary; of course your word is good, but in order to keep the\\nconfidence of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\n\",\n \"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\\\" said\\nTomsky. \\\"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" inquired a chorus of voices.\\n\\n\\\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\"\n ],\n [\n \"to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked up to the window where\\nLisaveta Ivanovna sat.\\n\\n\\\"Whom do you wish to present?\\\" asked the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Naroumov; do you know him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No; is he a soldier?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An engineer?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No; why do you ask?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\\n\\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and,\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"No; why do you ask?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\\n\\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and, left to herself, Lisaveta glanced\\nout of the window. Soon, a young officer appeared at the corner of the\\nstreet; the girl blushed and bent her head low over her canvas.\\n\\nThis appearance of the officer had become a daily occurrence. The man\\nwas totally unknown to her, and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \"\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after the Countess, she felt herself jostled and a note was\\nthrust into her hand. Turning, she saw the young officer at her elbow.\\nAs quick as thought, she put the note in her glove and entered the\\ncarriage. On her return from the drive, she hastened to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework\",\n \"spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\\n\\n\\\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\\\" cried a young officer, who had just\\nentered the room. \\\"I have come to ask a favor of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What, Pavel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked\",\n \"rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\\n\\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\\npapers and entered a\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\",\n \"ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\\nhave been told about him. He is said to have discovered the elixir of\\nlife, the philosopher's stone, and many other equally marvelous things.\\nHe had money at his disposal, and my grandmother knew it. She sent him a\\nnote asking him to come to see her. He obeyed her summons and found her\\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\\ncolors, and ended by telling\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\",\n \"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\\\" said\\nTomsky. \\\"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" inquired a chorus of voices.\\n\\n\\\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses\"\n ],\n [\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after the Countess, she felt herself jostled and a note was\\nthrust into her hand. Turning, she saw the young officer at her elbow.\\nAs quick as thought, she put the note in her glove and entered the\\ncarriage. On her return from the drive, she hastened to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection\",\n \"to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked up to the window where\\nLisaveta Ivanovna sat.\\n\\n\\\"Whom do you wish to present?\\\" asked the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Naroumov; do you know him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No; is he a soldier?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An engineer?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No; why do you ask?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\\n\\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and,\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"No; why do you ask?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl smiled and made no reply.\\n\\nPavel Tomsky took his leave, and, left to herself, Lisaveta glanced\\nout of the window. Soon, a young officer appeared at the corner of the\\nstreet; the girl blushed and bent her head low over her canvas.\\n\\nThis appearance of the officer had become a daily occurrence. The man\\nwas totally unknown to her, and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence\",\n \"rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,\",\n \"to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\\n\\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\\npapers and entered a\",\n \"ed at last by the following:\\n\\n\\\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and\",\n \"spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\\n\\n\\\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\\\" cried a young officer, who had just\\nentered the room. \\\"I have come to ask a favor of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What, Pavel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\"\n ],\n [\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\\nsoon out of debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fable,\\\" remarked Herman; \\\"perhaps the cards were marked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\\n\\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\\n\\n\\\"The tray wins,\\\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\\n\\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\",\n \"table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\\n\\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\\nagain.\\n\\n\\\"Permit me to choose a card,\\\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\",\n \"\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman, and all other thoughts\\nfrom the brain of the young officer. All his ideas merged into a single\\none: how to turn to advantage the secret paid for so dearly. He even\\nthought of resigning his commission and going to Paris to force a\\nfortune from conquered fate. Chance rescued him from his embarrassment.\\n\\n*****\\n\\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\\na\",\n \"banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a seven spot. The onlookers exclaimed,\\nand the host was visibly disturbed. He counted out ninety-four-thousand\\nrubles and passed them to Herman, who accepted them without showing the\\nleast surprise, and at once withdrew.\\n\\nThe following evening he went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He\",\n \"add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\\n\\n\\\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\\n\\n\\\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\\nto know.\\\"\\n\\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\\nwhiffs, then continued:\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\\nI never win.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\\\" remarked one of the\\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \\\"Here you are\\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\\nplayed nor bet all night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"ed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\\n\\\"How much is that?\\\" asked the banker; \\\"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\\nwell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Forty thousand rubles,\\\" said Herman coolly.\\n\\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\\n\\n\\\"He has lost his wits,\\\" thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\"\n ],\n [\n \"table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\\n\\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\\nagain.\\n\\n\\\"Permit me to choose a card,\\\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\\nI never win.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\\\" remarked one of the\\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \\\"Here you are\\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\\nplayed nor bet all night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"ued him from his embarrassment.\\n\\n*****\\n\\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\\na club at St. Petersburg. His long experience secured for him the\\nconfidence of his companions, and his hospitality and genial humor\\nconciliated society.\\n\\nThe gilded youth flocked around him, neglecting society, preferring the\\ncharms of faro to those of their sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\\nonly too willingly.\\n\",\n \"ed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\\n\\\"How much is that?\\\" asked the banker; \\\"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\\nwell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Forty thousand rubles,\\\" said Herman coolly.\\n\\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\\n\\n\\\"He has lost his wits,\\\" thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\",\n \"a cavalry officer, the long winter night had\\nbeen passed in gambling. At five in the morning breakfast was served\\nto the weary players. The winners ate with relish; the losers, on the\\ncontrary, pushed back their plates and sat brooding gloomily. Under\\nthe influence of the good wine, however, the conversation then became\\ngeneral.\\n\\n\\\"Well, Sourine?\\\" said the host inquiringly.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\\nI never win.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\\n\\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\\n\\n\\\"The tray wins,\\\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\\n\\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\",\n \"sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\\nonly too willingly.\\n\\nThe two officers found the apartments full. Generals and statesmen\\nplayed whist; young men lounged on sofas, eating ices or smoking. In\\nthe principal salon stood a long table, at which about twenty men sat\\nplaying faro, the host of the establishment being the banker.\\n\\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\\nshone with genial\",\n \"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\\\" said\\nTomsky. \\\"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" inquired a chorus of voices.\\n\\n\\\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\\nsoon out of debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fable,\\\" remarked Herman; \\\"perhaps the cards were marked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"banker.\\n\\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\\naround his lips.\\n\\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions\",\n \"understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses to gamble,\\\" objected Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Have you never heard her story?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No--\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, then, listen to it. To begin with, sixty years ago my grandmother\\nwent to Paris, where she was all the fashion. People crowded each other\\nin the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro,\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What of it?\\\" replied Herman, nettled. \\\"Do you accept it or not?\\\"\\n\\nThe banker nodded in assent. \\\"I have only to remind you that the cash\\nwill be necessary; of course your word is good, but in order to keep the\\nconfidence of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\n\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a seven spot. The onlookers exclaimed,\\nand the host was visibly disturbed. He counted out ninety-four-thousand\\nrubles and passed them to Herman, who accepted them without showing the\\nleast surprise, and at once withdrew.\\n\\nThe following evening he went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\nNow I am afraid to do so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\\\" replied Herman.\\n\\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\\n\\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity\",\n \"rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As he looked down it seemed to him that\\nthe rigid face returned his glance mockingly, closing one eye. He turned\\nabruptly away, made a false step, and fell to the floor. He was picked\\nup, and, at the same moment, Lisaveta was carried out in a faint.\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant,\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\\nexpect to find you there on my return.\\\"\\n\\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\\n\\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\\npapers and entered a\",\n \"spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\\n\\n\\\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\\\" cried a young officer, who had just\\nentered the room. \\\"I have come to ask a favor of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What, Pavel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked\"\n ],\n [\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\\n\\n\\\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\\n\\n\\\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\\nto know.\\\"\\n\\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\\nwhiffs, then continued:\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\\nsoon out of debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fable,\\\" remarked Herman; \\\"perhaps the cards were marked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\",\n \"in the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro, then. On one occasion, while\\nplaying with the Duke of Orleans, she lost an enormous sum. She told her\\nhusband of the debt, but he refused outright to pay it. Nothing could\\ninduce him to change his mind on the subject, and grandmother was at\\nher wits' ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\\nhave\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"obeyed her summons and found her\\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\\nfriendship and generosity.\\n\\n\\\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\\\" said\\nTomsky. \\\"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" inquired a chorus of voices.\\n\\n\\\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses\",\n \"ed at last by the following:\\n\\n\\\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\"\n ],\n [\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence.\\n\\n\\\"You are a monster!\\\" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.\\n\\n\\\"How are you going to get out of the house?\\\" inquired Lisa. \\\"It is\\nnearly daylight. I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\n\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon he\\nheard the vestibule door open. He thought it was his orderly, returning\\nlate, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the\\nshuffling sound of loose slippers.\\n\\nThe door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said\",\n \". I intended to show you the way to a secret staircase,\\nwhile the Countess was asleep, as we would have to cross her chamber.\\nNow I am afraid to do so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Direct me, and I will find the way alone,\\\" replied Herman.\\n\\nShe gave him minute instructions and a key with which to open the street\\ndoor. The young man pressed the cold, inert hand, then went out.\\n\\nThe death of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind.\\n\\nHerman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror\\nand disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were\\nnot the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The\\npoor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death\\nof her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in\\nsilence\",\n \"end the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a\\ncorridor; from this a spiral staircase leads to my sitting-room. I shall\\nexpect to find you there on my return.\\\"\\n\\nHerman trembled like a leaf as the appointed hour drew near. He obeyed\\ninstructions fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\",\n \"ed at last by the following:\\n\\n\\\"To-night we go to the ambassador's ball. We shall remain until two\\no'clock. I can arrange for a meeting in this way. After our departure,\\nthe servants will probably all go out, or go to sleep. At half-past\\neleven enter the vestibule boldly, and if you see any one, inquire for\\nthe Countess; if not, ascend the stairs, turn to the left and go on\\nuntil you come to a door, which opens into her bedchamber. Enter\\nthis room and\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\\nThe Countess Anna Fedorovna was seated before her mirror in her\\ndressing-room. Three women were assisting at her toilet. The old\\nCountess no longer made the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she\\nstill clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"obeyed her summons and found her\\nin great distress. She painted the cruelty of her husband in the darkest\\ncolors, and ended by telling the Count that she depended upon his\\nfriendship and generosity.\\n\\n\\\"'I could lend you the money,' replied the Count, after a moment of\\nthoughtfulness, 'but I know that you would not enjoy a moment's rest\\nuntil you had returned it; it would only add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\"\n ],\n [\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\\nsoon out of debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fable,\\\" remarked Herman; \\\"perhaps the cards were marked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\",\n \"of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\\n\\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\\n\\n\\\"The tray wins,\\\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\\n\\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand\",\n \"table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\\n\\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\\nagain.\\n\\n\\\"Permit me to choose a card,\\\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \"banker.\\n\\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\\naround his lips.\\n\\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\",\n \"banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a seven spot. The onlookers exclaimed,\\nand the host was visibly disturbed. He counted out ninety-four-thousand\\nrubles and passed them to Herman, who accepted them without showing the\\nleast surprise, and at once withdrew.\\n\\nThe following evening he went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He\"\n ],\n [\n \"Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was not.\\n\\nStrangely enough, that very night at the ball, Tomsky had rallied her\\nabout her preference for the young officer, assuring her that he knew\\nmore than she supposed he did.\\n\\n\\\"Of whom are you speaking?\\\" she had asked in alarm, fearing her\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"\\nadventure had been discovered.\\n\\n\\\"Of the remarkable man,\\\" was the reply. \\\"His name is Herman.\\\"\\n\\nLisa made no reply.\\n\\n\\\"This Herman,\\\" continued Tomsky, \\\"is a romantic character; he has the\\nprofile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles. It is said he\\nhas at least three crimes on his conscience. But how pale you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman did not recover his usual composure during the entire day. He\\ndined alone at an out-of-the-way restaurant, and drank a great deal, in\\nthe hope of stifling his emotion. The wine only served to stimulate his\\nimagination. He returned home and threw himself down on his bed without\\nundressing.\\n\\nDuring the night he awoke with a start; the moon shone into his chamber,\\nmaking everything plainly visible. Some one looked in at the window,\\nthen quickly disappeared. He paid no attention to this, but soon\",\n \"table, as she was in the habit\\nof doing before retiring, and her women withdrew. As the old lady sat\\nswaying to and fro, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Herman\\ncrept out of his hiding-place.\\n\\nAt the slight noise the old woman opened her eyes, and gazed at the\\nintruder with a half-dazed expression.\\n\\n\\\"Have no fear, I beg of you,\\\" said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Count\",\n \"is only a slight headache. But why do you talk to me of this\\nHerman?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I believe he has serious intentions concerning you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where has he seen me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At church, perhaps, or on the street.\\\"\\n\\nThe conversation was interrupted at this point, to the great regret of\\nthe young girl. The words of Tomsky made a deep impression upon her, and\\nshe realized how imprudently she had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her.\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"fully, and, as he met no one, he reached the old lady's\\nbedchamber without difficulty. Instead of going out of the small door\\nbehind the screen, however, he concealed himself in a closet to await\\nthe return of the old Countess.\\n\\nThe hours dragged slowly by; at last he heard the sound of wheels.\\nImmediately lamps were lighted and servants began moving about. Finally\\nthe old woman tottered into the room, completely exhausted. Her women\\nremoved her wraps and proceeded to get her in readiness for the night.\\nHerman watched\",\n \"tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her hands as if to protect herself; then\\nthey dropped and she sat motionless.\\n\\nHerman grasped her arm roughly, and was about to renew his threats, when\\nhe saw that she was dead!\\n\\n*****\\n\\nSeated in her room, still in her ball-dress, Lisaveta gave herself up to\\nher reflections. She had expected to find the young officer there, but\\nshe felt relieved to see that he was\",\n \"of the Countess had surprised no one, as it had long been\\nexpected. Her funeral was attended by every one of note in the\\nvicinity. Herman mingled with the throng without attracting any especial\\nattention. After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead\\nface, the young man approached the bier. He prostrated himself on the\\ncold floor, and remained motionless for a long time. He rose at last\\nwith a face almost as pale as that of the corpse itself, and went up the\\nsteps to look into the casket. As\",\n \"had acted. She was thinking of all this\\nand a great deal more when the door of her apartment suddenly opened,\\nand Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling\\nviolently.\\n\\n\\\"Where have you been?\\\" she asked in a frightened whisper.\\n\\n\\\"In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead,\\\" was the calm reply.\\n\\n\\\"My God! What are you saying?\\\" cried the girl.\\n\\n\\\"Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death.\\\"\\n\\nThe words of Tomsky flashed through\",\n \"then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the\\nfloor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned\\nto his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.\\n\\nTwo fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman,\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\\nI never win.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\\\" remarked one of the\\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \\\"Here you are\\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\\nplayed nor bet all night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"to her chamber to\\nread the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear. It was\\na tender and respectful declaration of affection, copied word for word\\nfrom a German novel. Of this fact, Lisa was, of course, ignorant.\\n\\nThe young girl was much impressed by the missive, but she felt that\\nthe writer must not be encouraged. She therefore wrote a few lines of\\nexplanation and, at the first opportunity, dropped it, with the letter,\\nout of the window. The officer hastily crossed the street, picked up the\\npapers and entered a\",\n \"banker.\\n\\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\\naround his lips.\\n\\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions\",\n \"spent as much time at\\nher toilet as she had done sixty years before. At the window a young\\ngirl, her ward, sat at her needlework.\\n\\n\\\"Good afternoon, grandmother,\\\" cried a young officer, who had just\\nentered the room. \\\"I have come to ask a favor of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What, Pavel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to be allowed to present one of my friends to you, and to take\\nyou to the ball on Tuesday night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the ball and present him to me there.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a few more remarks the officer walked\"\n ],\n [\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \"of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\\n\\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\\n\\n\\\"The tray wins,\\\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\\n\\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand\",\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"ed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\\n\\\"How much is that?\\\" asked the banker; \\\"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\\nwell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Forty thousand rubles,\\\" said Herman coolly.\\n\\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\\n\\n\\\"He has lost his wits,\\\" thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\\nsoon out of debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fable,\\\" remarked Herman; \\\"perhaps the cards were marked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,\",\n \"table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions and constantly smiling.\\n\\nAfter the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began\\nagain.\\n\\n\\\"Permit me to choose a card,\\\" said Herman, stretching out his hand over\\nthe head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\",\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,\\nI never win.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?\\\" remarked one of the\\nmen, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. \\\"Here you are\\nwith the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither\\nplayed nor bet all night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a seven spot. The onlookers exclaimed,\\nand the host was visibly disturbed. He counted out ninety-four-thousand\\nrubles and passed them to Herman, who accepted them without showing the\\nleast surprise, and at once withdrew.\\n\\nThe following evening he went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He\",\n \"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\\\" said\\nTomsky. \\\"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" inquired a chorus of voices.\\n\\n\\\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"banker.\\n\\nHe was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face\\nshone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered\\naround his lips.\\n\\nNaroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged\\nhim not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than\\nthirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each\\ncoup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,\\npolitely answering all questions\",\n \"thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What of it?\\\" replied Herman, nettled. \\\"Do you accept it or not?\\\"\\n\\nThe banker nodded in assent. \\\"I have only to remind you that the cash\\nwill be necessary; of course your word is good, but in order to keep the\\nconfidence of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\n\",\n \"ued him from his embarrassment.\\n\\n*****\\n\\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\\na club at St. Petersburg. His long experience secured for him the\\nconfidence of his companions, and his hospitality and genial humor\\nconciliated society.\\n\\nThe gilded youth flocked around him, neglecting society, preferring the\\ncharms of faro to those of their sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman\\nto accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation\\nonly too willingly.\\n\"\n ],\n [\n \"\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed\\nimpossible that he could have made such a mistake. As he stared at the\\ncard it seemed to him that the queen winked one eye at him mockingly.\\n\\n\\\"The old woman!\\\" he exclaimed involuntarily.\\n\\nThe croupier raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled\",\n \"went again. His appearance was the signal for\\nthe cessation of all occupation, every one being eager to watch the\\ndevelopments of events. He selected his card--an ace.\\n\\nThe dealing began: to the right, a queen; to the left, an ace.\\n\\n\\\"The ace wins,\\\" remarked Herman, turning up his card without glancing at\\nit.\\n\\n\\\"Your queen is killed,\\\" remarked Tchekalinsky quietly.\\n\\nHerman trembled; looking down, he saw, not the ace he had selected,\\nbut the queen of spades. He could scarcely\",\n \" GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEEN OF SPADES ***\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nProduced by David Widger\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nTHE QUEEN OF SPADES\\n\\nBy Alexander Sergeievitch Poushkin\\n\\nTranslated by H. Twitchell\\n\\nCopyright, 1901, by The Current Literature Publishing Company\\n\\n\\nAT the house of Naroumov, a cavalry officer, the long winter night had\\nbeen passed in gambling. At five in the morning breakfast was served\\nto the weary players.\",\n \", and as she was not accustomed to coquetting\\nwith the soldiers she saw on the street, she hardly knew how to explain\\nhis presence. His persistence finally roused an interest entirely\\nstrange to her. One day, she even ventured to smile upon her admirer,\\nfor such he seemed to be.\\n\\nThe reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than\\nHerman, the would-be gambler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"\",\n \"in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.\\nWhen he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were\\nshuffled, and the gambling went on.\\n\\nHerman became a lunatic. He was confined at the hospital at Oboukov,\\nwhere he spoke to no one, but kept constantly murmuring in a monotonous\\ntone: \\\"The tray, seven, ace! The tray, seven, queen!\\\"\\n\\n\\n\\n\\n\\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Queen Of Spades, by \\nAlexander Sergeievitch P\",\n \". She came\\nclose to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.\\n\\n\\\"I have come to you against my will,\\\" she said abruptly; \\\"but I was\\ncommanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession\\nare the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use\\nof each card, and after the three have been used you must never play\\nagain.\\\"\\n\\nThe fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door\\nclose, and again saw the form pass the window.\\n\\nHe rose and went out into\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer. Grandmother made some\\nexcuse for not having brought any money, and began to punt. She chose\\nthree cards in succession, again and again, winning every time, and was\\nsoon out of debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fable,\\\" remarked Herman; \\\"perhaps the cards were marked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards,\",\n \"the young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her lips as if about to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It was only a jest; I swear to you, it was only a jest,\\\" came from the\\nwithered lips.\\n\\n\\\"There was no jesting about it. Remember Tchaplitzky, who, thanks to\\nyou, was able to pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apath\",\n \"said Herman, in a calm voice. \\\"I have not\\ncome to harm you, but to ask a favor of you instead.\\\"\\n\\nThe Countess looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending\\nhim. Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her\\near and repeated his remark. The listener remained perfectly mute.\\n\\n\\\"You could make my fortune without its costing you anything,\\\" pleaded\\nthe young man; \\\"only tell me the three cards which are sure to win,\\nand--\\\"\\n\\nHerman paused as the old woman opened her\",\n \"pay his debts.\\\"\\n\\nAn expression of interior agitation passed over the face of the old\\nwoman; then she relapsed into her former apathy.\\n\\n\\\"Will you tell me the names of the magic cards, or not?\\\" asked Herman\\nafter a pause.\\n\\nThere was no reply.\\n\\nThe young man then drew a pistol from his pocket, exclaiming: \\\"You old\\nwitch, I'll force you to tell me!\\\"\\n\\nAt the sight of the weapon the Countess gave a second sign of life. She\\nthrew back her head and put out her\",\n \"bler, whose imagination had been strongly\\nexcited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" he thought, \\\"if the old Countess would only reveal the secret to\\nme. Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her sympathy?\\\"\\n\\nWith this idea in mind, he took up his daily station before the house,\\nwatching the pretty face at the window, and trusting to fate to bring\\nabout the desired acquaintance.\\n\\nOne day, as Lisaveta was standing on the pavement about to enter the\\ncarriage after\",\n \"add to your embarrassment.\\nThere is another way of freeing yourself.'\\n\\n\\\"'But I have no money at all,' insisted my grandmother.\\n\\n\\\"'There is no need of money. Listen to me.'\\n\\n\\\"The Count then told her a secret which any of us would give a good deal\\nto know.\\\"\\n\\nThe young gamesters were all attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, took a few\\nwhiffs, then continued:\\n\\n\\\"The next evening, grandmother appeared at Versailles at the Queen's\\ngaming-table. The Duke of Orleans was the dealer.\",\n \"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly think so,\\\" replied Tomsky, with an air of importance.\\n\\n\\\"So you have a grandmother who knows three winning cards, and you\\nhaven't found out the magic secret.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must say I have not. She had four sons, one of them being my father,\\nall of whom are devoted to play; she never told the secret to one of\\nthem. But my uncle told me this much, on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play\",\n \"in the streets to get a chance to see the 'Muscovite Venus,' as she was\\ncalled. All the great ladies played faro, then. On one occasion, while\\nplaying with the Duke of Orleans, she lost an enormous sum. She told her\\nhusband of the debt, but he refused outright to pay it. Nothing could\\ninduce him to change his mind on the subject, and grandmother was at\\nher wits' ends. Finally, she remembered a friend of hers, Count\\nSaint-Germain. You must have heard of him, as many wonderful stories\\nhave\",\n \"\\ntwo bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace\\nsoon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman, and all other thoughts\\nfrom the brain of the young officer. All his ideas merged into a single\\none: how to turn to advantage the secret paid for so dearly. He even\\nthought of resigning his commission and going to Paris to force a\\nfortune from conquered fate. Chance rescued him from his embarrassment.\\n\\n*****\\n\\nTchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened\\na\",\n \"on his word of honor. Tchaplitzky,\\nwho died in poverty after having squandered millions, lost at one time,\\nat play, nearly three hundred thousand rubles. He was desperate and\\ngrandmother took pity on him. She told him the three cards, making him\\nswear never to use them again. He returned to the game, staked fifty\\nthousand rubles on each card, and came out ahead, after paying his\\ndebts.\\\"\\n\\nAs day was dawning the party now broke up, each one draining his glass\\nand taking his leave.\\n\",\n \"of my patrons, I prefer the ready money.\\\"\\n\\nHerman took a bank-check from his pocket and handed it to his host. The\\nlatter examined it attentively, then laid it on the card chosen.\\n\\nHe began dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a tray.\\n\\n\\\"The tray wins,\\\" said Herman, showing the card he held--a tray.\\n\\nA murmur ran through the crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand\",\n \"crowd. Tchekalinsky frowned for a second only,\\nthen his smile returned. He took a roll of bank-bills from his pocket\\nand counted out the required sum. Herman received it and at once left\\nthe table.\\n\\nThe next evening saw him at the place again. Every one eyed him\\ncuriously, and Tchekalinsky greeted him cordially.\\n\\nHe selected his card and placed upon it his fresh stake. The banker\\nbegan dealing: to the right, a nine; to the left, a seven.\\n\\nHerman then showed his card--a\",\n \"Play interests me greatly,\\\" replied the person addressed, \\\"but I hardly\\ncare to sacrifice the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Herman is a German, therefore economical; that explains it,\\\" said\\nTomsky. \\\"But the person I can't quite understand is my grandmother, the\\nCountess Anna Fedorovna.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" inquired a chorus of voices.\\n\\n\\\"I can't understand why my grandmother never gambles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see anything very striking in the fact that a woman of eighty\\nrefuses\",\n \"ed\\nwithout replying.\\n\\nHerman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a\\npiece of chalk.\\n\\n\\\"How much is that?\\\" asked the banker; \\\"excuse me, sir, but I do not see\\nwell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Forty thousand rubles,\\\" said Herman coolly.\\n\\nAll eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.\\n\\n\\\"He has lost his wits,\\\" thought Naroumov.\\n\\n\\\"Allow me to observe,\\\" said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, \\\"that\\nyour stake is excessive.\\\"\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"questions":{"kind":"list like","value":["How does Tomsky say his grandmother got her fortune back?","How does Hermann gain access to the elderly countess's house?","What causes the elderly Countess's death?","What scares Hermann at the elderly Countess's funeral?","When the ghost appears to reveal the secret cards, what other two things does the ghost demand?","Which card does Hermann bet on, instead of the Ace, that causes him to finally lose at cards?","What does Hermann see when he looks at the Queen of Spades card?","Why doesn't Lizavyeta marry Hermann as planned?","When Hermann is committed to the insane asylum, what phrase does he repeat over and over?","What nationality is Hermann?","What is Hermann's job within the Imperial Russian Army?","Who's grandmother was an ederly countess?","Who is quite obsessed with finding out Tomsky's grandmother's card game secrets?","Who does Hermann send love letters to?","How does Hermann threaten the countess?","Who did Hermann confess the killing to?","What did Lizavyeta feel was Hermann's motive behind sending her letters?","Which establishment did Hermann play cards at?","Who ends up marrying Lizavyeta?","How does Hermann persuade Lizavyeta to let him in the house?","What are the secret cards?","Where do the men gamble?","Where is Hermann sent to live?","Who did the countess learn the secret of the cards from?","What happens when Hermann threatens the countess with a pistol?","Who tells Hermann the identity of the secret cards?","What army does Hermann serve in?","Which card is played that loses Hermann's fortune?","Who appears on the Queen of Spades card?"],"string":"[\n \"How does Tomsky say his grandmother got her fortune back?\",\n \"How does Hermann gain access to the elderly countess's house?\",\n \"What causes the elderly Countess's death?\",\n \"What scares Hermann at the elderly Countess's funeral?\",\n \"When the ghost appears to reveal the secret cards, what other two things does the ghost demand?\",\n \"Which card does Hermann bet on, instead of the Ace, that causes him to finally lose at cards?\",\n \"What does Hermann see when he looks at the Queen of Spades card?\",\n \"Why doesn't Lizavyeta marry Hermann as planned?\",\n \"When Hermann is committed to the insane asylum, what phrase does he repeat over and over?\",\n \"What nationality is Hermann?\",\n \"What is Hermann's job within the Imperial Russian Army?\",\n \"Who's grandmother was an ederly countess?\",\n \"Who is quite obsessed with finding out Tomsky's grandmother's card game secrets?\",\n \"Who does Hermann send love letters to?\",\n \"How does Hermann threaten the countess?\",\n \"Who did Hermann confess the killing to?\",\n \"What did Lizavyeta feel was Hermann's motive behind sending her letters?\",\n \"Which establishment did Hermann play cards at?\",\n \"Who ends up marrying Lizavyeta?\",\n \"How does Hermann persuade Lizavyeta to let him in the house?\",\n \"What are the secret cards?\",\n \"Where do the men gamble?\",\n \"Where is Hermann sent to live?\",\n \"Who did the countess learn the secret of the cards from?\",\n \"What happens when Hermann threatens the countess with a pistol?\",\n \"Who tells Hermann the identity of the secret cards?\",\n \"What army does Hermann serve in?\",\n \"Which card is played that loses Hermann's fortune?\",\n \"Who appears on the Queen of Spades card?\"\n]","isConversational":false},"answers":{"kind":"list like","value":[["With the secret of the three winning cards","playing cards"],["By writing love letters to the Countess's ward, Lizavyeta ","Lizavyeta"],["She dies of fright when Hermann interrogates her about the secret cards","died of fright"],["He sees her open her eyes to look at him ","she opens her eyes"],["That Hermann must play only once each night, and also marry Lizavyeta ","he can only play cards once each night and he must marry Lizavyeta"],["Queen of Spades","Queen of spades"],["He sees the Queen winking at him ","The old countess"],["He has gone mad, so she marries someone else ","She found out he said he loved her as a way to get the secret from her "],["Three seven ace, three seven queen!","Three, seven, ace! Three, seven, queen!"],["German","German"],["Officier of the engineers","officer of the engineers"],["Tomsky","Hermann"],["Hermann","Hermann"],["Lizavyeta","Lizavyeta"],["With a gun","With a gun"],["Lizavyeta","Lizavyetta"],["It was a mask for greed","Greed"],["Chekalinsky's Tavern","Chekalinsky's salon"],["A state official","A state official"],["By writing her love letters","Professing his love for her"],["Three, seven, ace","three, seven, ace"],["Chekalinsky's salon","imperial russian army"],["The Obukhov asylum","Asylum"],["The Count of St. Germain","count of st. germain"],["She dies of fright.","she dies"],["The countess's ghost","the ghost of the countess"],["Imperial Russian Army","the Imperial Russian Army"],["Queen of Spades","queen of spades"],["The countess","The countess"]],"string":"[\n [\n \"With the secret of the three winning cards\",\n \"playing cards\"\n ],\n [\n \"By writing love letters to the Countess's ward, Lizavyeta \",\n \"Lizavyeta\"\n ],\n [\n \"She dies of fright when Hermann interrogates her about the secret cards\",\n \"died of fright\"\n ],\n [\n \"He sees her open her eyes to look at him \",\n \"she opens her eyes\"\n ],\n [\n \"That Hermann must play only once each night, and also marry Lizavyeta \",\n \"he can only play cards once each night and he must marry Lizavyeta\"\n ],\n [\n \"Queen of Spades\",\n \"Queen of spades\"\n ],\n [\n \"He sees the Queen winking at him \",\n \"The old countess\"\n ],\n [\n \"He has gone mad, so she marries someone else \",\n \"She found out he said he loved her as a way to get the secret from her \"\n ],\n [\n \"Three seven ace, three seven queen!\",\n \"Three, seven, ace! Three, seven, queen!\"\n ],\n [\n \"German\",\n \"German\"\n ],\n [\n \"Officier of the engineers\",\n \"officer of the engineers\"\n ],\n [\n \"Tomsky\",\n \"Hermann\"\n ],\n [\n \"Hermann\",\n \"Hermann\"\n ],\n [\n \"Lizavyeta\",\n \"Lizavyeta\"\n ],\n [\n \"With a gun\",\n \"With a gun\"\n ],\n [\n \"Lizavyeta\",\n \"Lizavyetta\"\n ],\n [\n \"It was a mask for greed\",\n \"Greed\"\n ],\n [\n \"Chekalinsky's Tavern\",\n \"Chekalinsky's salon\"\n ],\n [\n \"A state official\",\n \"A state official\"\n ],\n [\n \"By writing her love letters\",\n \"Professing his love for her\"\n ],\n [\n \"Three, seven, ace\",\n \"three, seven, ace\"\n ],\n [\n \"Chekalinsky's salon\",\n \"imperial russian army\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Obukhov asylum\",\n \"Asylum\"\n ],\n [\n \"The Count of St. Germain\",\n \"count of st. germain\"\n ],\n [\n \"She dies of fright.\",\n \"she dies\"\n ],\n [\n \"The countess's ghost\",\n \"the ghost of the countess\"\n ],\n [\n \"Imperial Russian Army\",\n \"the Imperial Russian Army\"\n ],\n [\n \"Queen of Spades\",\n \"queen of spades\"\n ],\n [\n \"The countess\",\n \"The countess\"\n ]\n]","isConversational":false},"document_id":{"kind":"string","value":"fcead81b066d683547be06440e91d8b181819fad"},"split":{"kind":"string","value":"train"}}},{"rowIdx":37,"cells":{"text":{"kind":"list like","value":[["gate. The rangy figures of Aquilonian pikemen and forest runners\nmingled with the shorter, stockier forms of Bossonian archers.\n\nHe was not greatly surprised that the governor received them himself.\nAutocratic society with its rigid caste laws lay east of the marches.\nValannus was still a young man, well knit, with a finely chiseled\ncountenance already carved into sober cast by toil and responsibility.\n\n'You left the fort before daybreak, I was told,' he said to Conan. 'I\nhad begun to","'They're at the\nedges of the marsh, about nine miles from here. Blast it! They'll be cut\noff and butchered to a man! Listen! One man can warn the people on the\nroad. Go ahead and wake them up and herd them into Velitrium. I'll go\nand get the men gathering the salt. They'll be camped by the licks. We\nwon't come back to the road. We'll head straight through the woods.'\n\nWith no further comment Conan turned off the trail and hurried down the\ndim","the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\ntaken. Slasher rumbled deep in his throat, his hackles stiff and his\neyes balls of green fire. Balthus remembered the grim apparition that\nhad taken the head of the merchant Tiberias not far from that spot, and\nhe hesitated. The thing must be following Conan. But the giant Cimmerian\nhad repeatedly demonstrated his ability to take care of himself, and\nBalthus felt his duty lay toward the helpless sett","told him Tiberias had heard the loon\ncall when he rode through the gate on his mule, with his glassy stare. I\nwagered he'd come back without his head.'\n\nConan grunted enigmatically, motioned Balthus to ease the litter to the\nground, and then strode off toward the governor's quarters, with the\nAquilonian at his heels. The tousle-headed youth stared about him\neagerly and curiously, noting the rows of barracks along the walls, the\nstables, the tiny merchants'","back to the road. We'll head straight through the woods.'\n\nWith no further comment Conan turned off the trail and hurried down the\ndim path, and Balthus, after staring after him for a few moments, set\nout along the road. The dog had remained with him, and glided softly at\nhis heels. When Balthus had gone a few rods he heard the animal growl.\nWhirling, he glared back the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\nt","had just crossed a small glade when he wheeled answering the\nconviction of his primitive instincts that he was being followed.\nStanding motionless among the bushes he heard the sounds of the\nretreating settlers fade away. Then a voice called faintly back along\nthe way he had come: 'Conan! Conan! Wait for me, Conan!'\n\n'Balthus!' he swore bewilderedly. Cautiously he called: 'Here I am.'\n\n'Wait for me, Conan!' the voice came more distinctly.\n\nConan moved","centuries. You need hardening.'\n\nThat was true; the Bossonian marches, with their fortified villages\nfilled with determined bowmen, had long served Aquilonia as a buffer\nagainst the outlying barbarians. Now among the settlers beyond Thunder\nRiver there was growing up a breed of forest-men capable of meeting the\nbarbarians at their own game, but their numbers were still scanty. Most\nof the frontiersmen were like Balthus--more of the settler than the\nwoodsman type.\n\nThe sun had not set","my path to let\none go by.'\n\nValannus lifted his head and met Conan's gaze squarely.\n\n'Conan, more depends on you than you realize. You know the weakness of\nthis province--a slender wedge thrust into the untamed wilderness. You\nknow that the lives of all the people west of the marches depend on this\nfort. Were it to fall, red axes would be splintering the gates of\nVelitrium before a horseman could cross the marches. His majesty, or his\nmajesty's advisers","Maybe the boy was going to enter the service; maybe take\nup land on the river. Well, that's what will happen to every man, woman\nand child this side of Thunder River if we don't get them into Velitrium\nin a hurry.'\n\nBalthus' knees trembled as he followed Conan. But there was no hint of\nweakness in the long easy stride of the Cimmerian. There was a kinship\nbetween him and the great gaunt brute that glided beside him. Slasher no\nlonger growled with his head to the trail","It was an old\ntrail, partly grown with new young growth, and this growth had recently\nbeen broken down. Balthus realized this fact more by feel than sight,\nthough Conan seemed to see like a cat in the dark. The Cimmerian showed\nhim where broad wagon tracks turned off the main trail, deeply indented\nin the forest mold.\n\n'Settlers going to the licks after salt,' he grunted. 'They're at the\nedges of the marsh, about nine miles from here. Blast it! They'll be cut\noff and but","deeper into the ancient\nwilderness. Presently he grunted with satisfaction. They had reached a\nspot where the underbrush was more scattered, and an outcropping of\nstone was visible, wandering off southward. Balthus felt more secure as\nthey followed it. Not even a Pict could trail them over naked rock.\n\n'How did you get away?' he asked presently.\n\nConan tapped his mail-shirt and helmet.\n\n'If more borderers would wear harness there'd be fewer skulls hanging on\nthe altar-huts. But","of knights who rode from the East to visit the barons of the\nmarches. There are no ostriches in this forest, are there?'\n\n'They came from Kush,' answered Conan. 'West of here, many marches, lies\nthe seashore. Ships from Zingara occasionally come and trade weapons and\nornaments and wine to the coastal tribes for skins and copper ore and\ngold dust. Sometimes they trade ostrich plumes they got from the\nStygians, who in turn got them from the black tribes of Kush, which lies\nsouth","broke into the road\nleading east.\n\n'Now run!' grunted Conan. Balthus set his teeth. It was nineteen miles\nto Velitrium, a good five to Scalp Creek beyond which began the\nsettlements. It seemed to the Aquilonian that they had been fighting and\nrunning for centuries. But the nervous excitement that rioted through\nhis blood stimulated him to Herculean efforts.\n\nSlasher ran ahead of them, his head to the ground, snarling low, the\nfirst sound they had heard from him.\n\n'Picts","\nThey had covered more than a mile, and the muscles in Balthus' sturdy\narms were beginning to ache a little, when a cry rang shuddering from\nthe woods whose blue shadows were deepening into purple.\n\nConan started convulsively, and Balthus almost let go the poles.\n\n'A woman!' cried the younger man. 'Great Mitra, a woman cried out then!'\n\n'A settler's wife straying in the woods,' snarled Conan, setting down\nhis end of the litter. 'Looking for a","settler's wife straying in the woods,' snarled Conan, setting down\nhis end of the litter. 'Looking for a cow, probably, and--stay here!'\n\nHe dived like a hunting wolf into the leafy wall. Balthus' hair\nbristled.\n\n'Stay here alone with this corpse and a devil hiding in the woods?' he\nyelped. 'I'm coming with you!'\n\nAnd suiting action to words, he plunged after the Cimmerian. Conan\nglanced back at him,",". The soldiers believe Zogar's boast\nthat he could summon the forest beasts to slay his enemies.\n\n'I have three hundred pikemen, four hundred Bossonian archers, and\nperhaps fifty men who, like yourself, are skilled in woodcraft. They are\nworth ten times their number of soldiers, but there are so few of them.\nFrankly, Conan, my situation is becoming precarious. The soldiers\nwhisper of desertion; they are low-spirited, believing Zogar Sag has\nloosed devils on us","s death for us all. You can take as many men as you wish.'\n\n'A dozen men are better for a job like that than a regiment,' answered\nConan. 'Five hundred men couldn't fight their way to Gwawela and back,\nbut a dozen might slip in and out again. Let me pick my men. I don't\nwant any soldiers.'\n\n'Let me go!' eagerly exclaimed Balthus. 'I've hunted deer all my life on\nthe Tauran.'\n\n'All right. Valannus, we'","ship\nbetween him and the great gaunt brute that glided beside him. Slasher no\nlonger growled with his head to the trail. The way was clear before\nthem. The yelling on the river came faintly to them, but Balthus\nbelieved the fort was still holding. Conan halted suddenly, with an\noath.\n\nHe showed Balthus a trail that led north from the road. It was an old\ntrail, partly grown with new young growth, and this growth had recently\nbeen broken down. Balthus realized this fact","sonian marches. If the Aquilonians would cut up some of the\nbig estates of their barons, and plant wheat where now only deer are\nhunted, they wouldn't have to cross the border and take the land of the\nPicts away from them.'\n\n'That's queer talk from a man in the service of the Governor of\nConajohara,' objected Balthus.\n\n'It's nothing to me,' the other retorted. 'I'm a mercenary. I sell my\nsword to the highest bidder. I never","may be\nalive with them. We've got to risk it. We're about six miles south of\nGwawela.'\n\nHe wheeled and ducked as a bow-string twanged. Something like a white\nflash of light streaked through the bushes. Balthus knew it was an\narrow. Then with a tigerish bound Conan was through the bushes. Balthus\ncaught the gleam of steel as he whirled his sword, and heard a death\nscream. The next instant he had broken through the bushes after the\nCimmer"],["back to the road. We'll head straight through the woods.'\n\nWith no further comment Conan turned off the trail and hurried down the\ndim path, and Balthus, after staring after him for a few moments, set\nout along the road. The dog had remained with him, and glided softly at\nhis heels. When Balthus had gone a few rods he heard the animal growl.\nWhirling, he glared back the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\nt","Balthus forgot his hunger and weariness.\nThe yells grew louder as they advanced, and above the devilish screaming\nthey could hear the deep shouts of the soldiers. Just as Balthus began\nto fear they would run into the savages who seemed to be howling just\nahead of them, Conan swung away from the river in a wide semicircle that\ncarried them to a low rise from which they could look over the forest.\nThey saw the fort, lighted with torches thrust over the parapets on long\npoles. These cast a flickering","the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\ntaken. Slasher rumbled deep in his throat, his hackles stiff and his\neyes balls of green fire. Balthus remembered the grim apparition that\nhad taken the head of the merchant Tiberias not far from that spot, and\nhe hesitated. The thing must be following Conan. But the giant Cimmerian\nhad repeatedly demonstrated his ability to take care of himself, and\nBalthus felt his duty lay toward the helpless sett","And Balthus had seen that which still prickled his flesh. He\ncould not refute the monstrous thing which Conan's words implied.\n\n'I've heard that there's an ancient grove sacred to Jhebbal Sag\nsomewhere in this forest,' said Conan. 'I don't know. I've never seen\nit. But more beasts _remember_ in this country than any I've ever seen.'\n\n'Then others will be on our trail?'\n\n'They are now,' was Conan's disquiet","fires that never lit the eyes\nof men bred to the ideas of civilization. In that instant he was all\nwild, and had forgotten the man at his side. In his burning gaze Balthus\nglimpsed and vaguely recognized pristine images and half-embodied\nmemories, shadows from Life's dawn, forgotten and repudiated by\nsophisticated races--ancient, primeval fantasms unnamed and nameless.\n\nThen the deeper fires were masked and Conan was silently leading the way\ndeeper into the forest.\n\n'","had just crossed a small glade when he wheeled answering the\nconviction of his primitive instincts that he was being followed.\nStanding motionless among the bushes he heard the sounds of the\nretreating settlers fade away. Then a voice called faintly back along\nthe way he had come: 'Conan! Conan! Wait for me, Conan!'\n\n'Balthus!' he swore bewilderedly. Cautiously he called: 'Here I am.'\n\n'Wait for me, Conan!' the voice came more distinctly.\n\nConan moved","\nBalthus groped for and found a projecting root which he grasped. No word\nwas spoken. All instructions had been given before the scouting-party\nleft the fort. As silently as a great panther Conan slid over the side\nand vanished in the bushes. Equally noiseless, nine men followed him. To\nBalthus, grasping the root with his paddle across his knee, it seemed\nincredible that ten men should thus fade into the tangled forest without\na sound.\n\nHe settled himself to wait. No word passed between him and the","settler's wife straying in the woods,' snarled Conan, setting down\nhis end of the litter. 'Looking for a cow, probably, and--stay here!'\n\nHe dived like a hunting wolf into the leafy wall. Balthus' hair\nbristled.\n\n'Stay here alone with this corpse and a devil hiding in the woods?' he\nyelped. 'I'm coming with you!'\n\nAnd suiting action to words, he plunged after the Cimmerian. Conan\nglanced back at him,","still shuddering through the forest in grisly echoes, put\non an extra burst of speed and plunged after him.\n\nThe Aquilonian slid to a stumbling halt, almost colliding with the\nCimmerian who stood in the trail over a crumpled body. But Conan was not\nlooking at the corpse which lay there in the crimson-soaked dust. He was\nglaring into the deep woods on either side of the trail.\n\nBalthus muttered a horrified oath. It was the body of a man which lay\nthere in the","felt a pain in his side, and running\nbecame torture. He blundered against the bushes on each side of the\ntrail. Conan pulled up suddenly, turned and stared back down the dim\npath.\n\nSomewhere the moon was rising, a dim white glow amidst a tangle of\nbranches.\n\n'Shall we take to the woods?' panted Balthus.\n\n'Give me your ax,' murmured Conan softly. 'Something is close behind\nus.'\n\n'Then we'd better leave the trail!' exclaimed Balthus.\n",". Indeed it was only a\nfew instants' fleeting glimpse they had of it--a tall, shadowy thing of\nmisty flame floating through the thickets. Then it was gone, and the\nforest crouched in breathless stillness.\n\nWith a snarl Conan plunged through the intervening foliage and into the\ntrail. His profanity, as Balthus floundered after him, was lurid and\nimpassioned. The Cimmerian was standing over the litter on which lay the\nbody of Tiberias. And that","and rolled, and men\nclawed and shrieked in frantic flight.\n\nBalthus felt something jerk at his wrists, and then, miraculously, he\nwas free, and a strong hand dragged him behind the post. Dazedly he saw\nConan, felt the forest man's iron grip on his arm.\n\nThere was blood on the Cimmerian's mail, dried blood on the sword in his\nright hand; he loomed dim and gigantic in the shadowy light.\n\n'Come on! Before they get over their panic!'\n\n","autiously he called: 'Here I am.'\n\n'Wait for me, Conan!' the voice came more distinctly.\n\nConan moved out of the shadows, scowling. 'What the devil are you doing\nhere?--Crom!'\n\nHe half crouched, the flesh prickling along his spine. It was not\nBalthus who was emerging from the other side of the glade. A weird glow\nburned through the trees. It moved toward him, shimmering weirdly--a\ngreen witch-fire that moved with purpose and intent.\n\nIt","won't take to the woods until\nwe have to. We can make better time on this trail. Now buckle down to it\nand run as you never ran before.'\n\n'They got over their panic cursed quick!' panted Balthus, complying with\na fresh burst of speed.\n\n'They're not afraid of anything, very long,' grunted Conan.\n\nFor a space nothing was said between them. The fugitives devoted all\ntheir attention to covering distance. They were plunging deeper and\ndeeper into the wilderness and getting farther away","\nBalthus realized that they did not yet know their prisoner had escaped.\nFrom other sounds he believed that the warriors, directed by the shrill\nvoice of Zogar Sag, were destroying the wounded serpent with arrows. The\nmonster was out of the shaman's control. A moment later the quality of\nthe yells was altered. Screeches of rage rose in the night.\n\nConan laughed grimly. He was leading Balthus along a narrow trail that\nran west under the black branches, stepping as swiftly and surely as if\nhe trod a well","forest devil. This is the fifth, by Crom!'\n\n'What do you mean?'\n\n'Did you ever hear of a Pictish wizard called Zogar Sag?'\n\nBalthus shook his head uneasily.\n\n'He dwells in Gwawela, the nearest village across the river. Three\nmonths ago he hid beside this road and stole a string of pack-mules from\na pack-train bound for the fort--drugged their drivers, somehow. The\nmules belonged to this man'--Conan casually indicated the corpse with\n","it.\nBalthus recognized a grim determination not to be hunted away from the\nriver which they must cross if they were to warn the men in the fort.\nBehind them rose more loudly the yells of the forest men. Balthus\nbelieved the Picts had reached the glade where the bodies of the slain\nmen lay. Then further yells seemed to indicate that the savages were\nstreaming into the woods in pursuit. They had left a trail any Pict\ncould follow.\n\nConan increased his speed, and Balthus grimly set his teeth and kept on","from ear to ear as if by a razor-sharp blade. The short\nsword still in its scabbard seemed to indicate that he had been struck\ndown without a chance to fight for his life.\n\n'A Pict?' Balthus whispered, as he turned to peer into the deepening\nshadows of the forest.\n\nConan shook his head and straightened to scowl down at the dead man.\n\n'A forest devil. This is the fifth, by Crom!'\n\n'What do you mean?'\n\n'Did you ever hear of a Pictish w","coming with you!'\n\nAnd suiting action to words, he plunged after the Cimmerian. Conan\nglanced back at him, but made no objection, though he did not moderate\nhis pace to accommodate the shorter legs of his companion. Balthus\nwasted his wind in swearing as the Cimmerian drew away from him again,\nlike a phantom between the trees, and then Conan burst into a dim glade\nand halted crouching, lips snarling, sword lifted.\n\n'What are we stopping for?' panted Balthus,","deeper into the ancient\nwilderness. Presently he grunted with satisfaction. They had reached a\nspot where the underbrush was more scattered, and an outcropping of\nstone was visible, wandering off southward. Balthus felt more secure as\nthey followed it. Not even a Pict could trail them over naked rock.\n\n'How did you get away?' he asked presently.\n\nConan tapped his mail-shirt and helmet.\n\n'If more borderers would wear harness there'd be fewer skulls hanging on\nthe altar-huts. But"],["the eastern cities would sneer at his primitive\nmagic-making as the mummery of a fakir; yet he has driven mad and killed\nfive men in a manner no man can explain. I wonder if he himself is\nwholly human.'\n\n'If I can get within ax-throwing distance of him I'll settle that\nquestion,' growled Conan, helping himself to the governor's wine and\npushing a glass toward Balthus, who took it hesitatingly, and with an\nuncertain glance toward Valannus.\n\nThe governor turned toward Conan","toward Balthus, who took it hesitatingly, and with an\nuncertain glance toward Valannus.\n\nThe governor turned toward Conan and stared at him thoughtfully.\n\n'The soldiers, who do not believe in ghosts or devils,' he said, 'are\nalmost in a panic of fear. You, who believe in ghosts, ghouls, goblins,\nand all manner of uncanny things, do not seem to fear any of the things\nin which you believe.'\n\n'There's nothing in the universe cold steel won't cut,'","s death for us all. You can take as many men as you wish.'\n\n'A dozen men are better for a job like that than a regiment,' answered\nConan. 'Five hundred men couldn't fight their way to Gwawela and back,\nbut a dozen might slip in and out again. Let me pick my men. I don't\nwant any soldiers.'\n\n'Let me go!' eagerly exclaimed Balthus. 'I've hunted deer all my life on\nthe Tauran.'\n\n'All right. Valannus, we'","young sir. I wish more of your people would\ncome. We need men used to forest life. Many of our soldiers and some of\nour settlers are from the eastern provinces and know nothing of\nwoodcraft, or even of agricultural life.'\n\n'Not many of that breed this side of Velitrium,' grunted Conan. 'That\ntown's full of them, though. But listen, Valannus, we found Tiberias\ndead on the trail.' And in a few words he related the grisly affair.\n\nValannus paled. 'I did not know","my path to let\none go by.'\n\nValannus lifted his head and met Conan's gaze squarely.\n\n'Conan, more depends on you than you realize. You know the weakness of\nthis province--a slender wedge thrust into the untamed wilderness. You\nknow that the lives of all the people west of the marches depend on this\nfort. Were it to fall, red axes would be splintering the gates of\nVelitrium before a horseman could cross the marches. His majesty, or his\nmajesty's advisers","iers to where he lay dead drunk in a thicket. At the importunities\nof Tiberias, Valannus threw Zogar Sag into a cell, which is the worst\ninsult you can give a Pict. He managed to kill his guard and escape, and\nsent back word that he meant to kill Tiberias and the five men who\ncaptured him in a way that would make Aquilonians shudder for centuries\nto come.\n\n'Well, Soractus and the soldiers are dead. Soractus was killed on the\nriver, the soldiers in the very shadow","do not seem to fear any of the things\nin which you believe.'\n\n'There's nothing in the universe cold steel won't cut,' answered Conan.\n'I threw my ax at the demon, and he took no hurt, but I might have\nmissed, in the dusk, or a branch deflected its flight. I'm not going out\nof my way looking for devils; but I wouldn't step out of my path to let\none go by.'\n\nValannus lifted his head and met Conan's gaze squarely.\n\n'Conan","is loosed upon us, the soldiers will desert in a\nbody! The border will be left unguarded and nothing will check the sweep\nof the dark-skinned hordes to the very gates of Velitrium--maybe beyond!\nIf we can not hold the fort, how can they hold the town?\n\n'Conan, Zogar Sag must die, if we are to hold Conajohara. You have\npenetrated the unknown deeper than any other man in the fort; you know\nwhere Gwawela stands, and something of the forest trails across the\nriver","\ndead on the trail.' And in a few words he related the grisly affair.\n\nValannus paled. 'I did not know he had left the fort. He must have been\nmad!'\n\n'He was,' answered Conan. 'Like the other four; each one, when his time\ncame, went mad and rushed into the woods to meet his death like a hare\nrunning down the throat of a python. _Something_ called to them from the\ndeeps of the forest, something the men call a loon, for lack of a better\nname, but only","ir pikes jangled against each other as they thrust shut the gate,\nchin on shoulder, and Conan asked testily: 'Have you never seen a\nheadless body before?'\n\nThe face of the soldiers were pallid in the torchlight.\n\n'That's Tiberias,' blurted one. 'I recognize that fur-trimmed tunic.\nValerius here owes me five lunas. I told him Tiberias had heard the loon\ncall when he rode through the gate on his mule, with his glassy stare. I\nw","the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\ntaken. Slasher rumbled deep in his throat, his hackles stiff and his\neyes balls of green fire. Balthus remembered the grim apparition that\nhad taken the head of the merchant Tiberias not far from that spot, and\nhe hesitated. The thing must be following Conan. But the giant Cimmerian\nhad repeatedly demonstrated his ability to take care of himself, and\nBalthus felt his duty lay toward the helpless sett","\nthe distance between him and his straining companion. Balthus puffed a\ncurse. Among the settlements of the Tauran he was accounted a good\nrunner, but Conan was leaving him behind with maddening ease. Then\nBalthus forgot his exasperation as his ears were outraged by the most\nfrightful cry he had ever heard. It was not human, this one; it was a\ndemoniacal caterwauling of hideous triumph that seemed to exult over\nfallen humanity and find echo in black gulfs beyond human ken","bound for the fort--drugged their drivers, somehow. The\nmules belonged to this man'--Conan casually indicated the corpse with\nhis foot--'Tiberias, a merchant of Velitrium. They were loaded with\nale-kegs, and old Zogar stopped to guzzle before he got across the\nriver. A woodsman named Soractus trailed him, and led Valannus and three\nsoldiers to where he lay dead drunk in a thicket. At the importunities\nof Tiberias, Valannus threw Zogar Sag","Something_ called to them from the\ndeeps of the forest, something the men call a loon, for lack of a better\nname, but only the doomed ones could hear it. Zogar Sag has made a magic\nthat Aquilonian civilization can't overcome.'\n\nTo this thrust Valannus made no reply; he wiped his brow with a shaky\nhand.\n\n'Do the soldiers know of this?'\n\n'We left the body by the eastern gate.'\n\n'You should have concealed the fact, hidden the corpse somewhere in the\nwoods. The",". The soldiers\nwhisper of desertion; they are low-spirited, believing Zogar Sag has\nloosed devils on us. They fear the black plague with which he threatened\nus--the terrible black death of the swamplands. When I see a sick\nsoldier I sweat with fear of seeing him turn black and shrivel and die\nbefore my eyes.\n\n'Conan, if the plague is loosed upon us, the soldiers will desert in a\nbody! The border will be left unguarded and nothing will check the sweep\nof the","gate. The rangy figures of Aquilonian pikemen and forest runners\nmingled with the shorter, stockier forms of Bossonian archers.\n\nHe was not greatly surprised that the governor received them himself.\nAutocratic society with its rigid caste laws lay east of the marches.\nValannus was still a young man, well knit, with a finely chiseled\ncountenance already carved into sober cast by toil and responsibility.\n\n'You left the fort before daybreak, I was told,' he said to Conan. 'I\nhad begun to","had just crossed a small glade when he wheeled answering the\nconviction of his primitive instincts that he was being followed.\nStanding motionless among the bushes he heard the sounds of the\nretreating settlers fade away. Then a voice called faintly back along\nthe way he had come: 'Conan! Conan! Wait for me, Conan!'\n\n'Balthus!' he swore bewilderedly. Cautiously he called: 'Here I am.'\n\n'Wait for me, Conan!' the voice came more distinctly.\n\nConan moved","Maybe the boy was going to enter the service; maybe take\nup land on the river. Well, that's what will happen to every man, woman\nand child this side of Thunder River if we don't get them into Velitrium\nin a hurry.'\n\nBalthus' knees trembled as he followed Conan. But there was no hint of\nweakness in the long easy stride of the Cimmerian. There was a kinship\nbetween him and the great gaunt brute that glided beside him. Slasher no\nlonger growled with his head to the trail","the rest of us prisoners when we were so weak\nfrom fighting we could fight no more. They butchered nine of us then and\nthere. It was when Zogar Sag died that I got my chance to break free and\nrun for it.'\n\n'Zogar Sag's dead?' ejaculated Conan.\n\n'Aye. I saw him die. That's why the Picts didn't press the fight against\nVelitrium as fiercely as they did against the fort. It was strange. He\ntook no wounds in battle. He was dancing",". The soldiers believe Zogar's boast\nthat he could summon the forest beasts to slay his enemies.\n\n'I have three hundred pikemen, four hundred Bossonian archers, and\nperhaps fifty men who, like yourself, are skilled in woodcraft. They are\nworth ten times their number of soldiers, but there are so few of them.\nFrankly, Conan, my situation is becoming precarious. The soldiers\nwhisper of desertion; they are low-spirited, believing Zogar Sag has\nloosed devils on us"],["a stake painted black as was the one to\nwhich he was bound. A man sagged in his bonds there, naked except for\nhis leathern breeks, whom Balthus recognized as one of Conan's woodsmen.\nBlood trickled from his mouth, oozed sluggishly from a gash in his side.\nLifting his head as he licked his livid lips, he muttered, making\nhimself heard with difficulty above the fiendish clamor of the Picts:\n'So they got you, too!'\n\n'Sneaked up in","were traveling slowly, on foot and on the overloaded horses. The\nswift-footed Picts would run them down within a mile, unless--he took\nhis position behind a tangle of fallen logs beside the trail. The road\nwest of him was lighted by the burning cabin, and when the Picts came he\nsaw them first--black furtive figures etched against the distant glare.\n\nDrawing a shaft to the head, he loosed and one of the figures crumpled.\nThe rest melted into the woods on either side of the road. Slasher\n","be ten or eleven heads at least. A deadly sickness assailed him. He\nfought a desire to retch. Beyond the heads lay the bodies of half a\ndozen Picts, and he was aware of a fierce exultation at the sight. The\nforest runners had taken toll, at least.\n\nTwisting his head away from the ghastly spectacle, he became aware that\nanother post stood near him--a stake painted black as was the one to\nwhich he was bound. A man sagged in his bonds there, naked except for\nhis leathern","within miles of Gwawela. All the Picts are gathered in that vicinity.\nWe'll circle wide around them. They can't track us until daylight.\nThey'll pick up our path then, but before dawn we'll leave the trail and\ntake to the woods.'\n\nThey plunged on. The yells died out behind them. Balthus' breath was\nwhistling through his teeth. He felt a pain in his side, and running\nbecame torture. He blundered against the bushes on each side of the\ntrail. Con","with meager household furnishings; it was burning; the oxen lay\nnear with their throats cut. A man and a woman lay in the road, stripped\nand mutilated. Five Picts were dancing about them with fantastic leaps\nand bounds, waving bloody axes; one of them brandished the woman's\nred-smeared gown.\n\nAt the sight a red haze swam before Balthus. Lifting his bow he lined\nthe prancing figure, black against the fire, and loosed. The slayer\nleaped convulsively and fell","\nLooking back as they entered the thick growth, Balthus beheld the wall\ndotted with black heads as the savages peered over. The Picts were\nbewildered. They had not gained the wall in time to see the fugitives\ntake cover. They had rushed to the wall expecting to repel an attack in\nforce. They had seen the body of the dead warrior. But no enemy was in\nsight.\n\nBalthus realized that they did not yet know their prisoner had escaped.\nFrom other sounds he believed that the warriors, directed by the shrill\n","of him. From the noise they\nwere making in their progress he knew they were not Picts. He hailed\nthem.\n\n'Who's there?' challenged a harsh voice. 'Stand where you are until we\nknow you, or you'll get an arrow through you.'\n\n'You couldn't hit an elephant in this darkness,' answered Conan\nimpatiently. 'Come on, fool; it's I--Conan. The Picts are over the\nriver.'\n\n'We suspected as much,' answered the leader of the men, as they strode\n","\nA week before, Balthus would have laughed at any such preposterous\nsuggestion. Now he made no reply. He had seen the unconquerable ferocity\nof the men who dwelt beyond the frontiers.\n\nHe shivered, casting glances at the sullen river, just visible through\nthe bushes, at the arches of the trees which crowded close to its banks.\nHe kept remembering that the Picts might have crossed the river and be\nlying in ambush between them and the fort. It was fast growing dark.\n\nA slight sound ahead of them","Conan. The Picts are over the\nriver.'\n\n'We suspected as much,' answered the leader of the men, as they strode\nforward--tall, rangy men, stern-faced, with bows in their hands. 'One of\nour party wounded an antelope and tracked it nearly to Black River. He\nheard them yelling down the river and ran back to our camp. We left the\nsalt and the wagons, turned the oxen loose and came as swiftly as we\ncould. If the Picts are besieging the fort, war","that cat. As soon as\nhe got his wits back Zogar sent him after us. The Picts would follow\nhim, but he'd leave them far behind. He'd circle the village until he\nhit our trail and then come after us like a streak. They couldn't keep\nup with him, but they'll have an idea as to our general direction.\nThey'd follow, listening for his cry. Well, they won't hear that, but\nthey'll find the blood on the trail, and look around and find the body\nin the brush. They'","ank back against the huts, and the shaman still stood\nfacing the gate that was like a black opening to let in the night.\n\nCold sweat burst suddenly out on Balthus' skin. What new horror would\ncome through that gate to make carrion-meat of his body? Sick panic\nassailed him and he strained futilely at his thongs. The night pressed\nin very black and horrible outside the firelight. The fires themselves\nglowed lurid as the fires of hell. He felt the eyes of the Picts upon\nhim--hundreds","crude but strong litter.\n\n'The demon isn't going to get Tiberias' head if I can help it,' he\ngrowled. 'We'll carry the body into the fort. It isn't more than three\nmiles. I never liked the fat fool, but we can't have Pictish devils\nmaking so cursed free with white men's heads.'\n\nThe Picts were a white race, though swarthy, but the border men never\nspoke of them as such.\n\nBalthus took the rear end of the litter, onto which","us urged that she herself mount\nwith them, but she shook her head and made one of the younger women\nride.\n\n'She's with child,' grunted the old woman. 'I can walk--and fight, too,\nif it comes to that.'\n\nAs they set out, one of the women said: 'A young couple passed along the\nroad about dusk; we advised them to spend the night at our cabin, but\nthey were anxious to make the fort tonight. Did--did--'.\n\n'They met the Picts,' answered Balthus briefly, and the woman","rise from his victim, his\ngreat jaws dripping blood.\n\nBalthus said nothing as he looked down at the pitiful forms in the road\nbeside the burning wain. Both were young, the woman little more than a\ngirl. By some whim of chance the Picts had left her face unmarred, and\neven in the agonies of an awful death it was beautiful. But her soft\nyoung body had been hideously slashed with many knives--a mist clouded\nBalthus' eyes and he swallowed chokingly. The tragedy momentarily\n","of the trail.\nThree dropped with arrows through them--and the remaining pair\nhesitated. One turned and ran back down the road, but the other lunged\nover the breastwork, his eyes and teeth gleaming in the dim light, his\nax lifted. Balthus' foot slipped as he sprang up, but the slip saved his\nlife. The descending ax shaved a lock of hair from his head, and the\nPict rolled down the logs from the force of his wasted blow. Before he\ncould regain his feet Slasher tore his throat out.\n\nThen","\n\n'What did you say to the Pict?' asked Balthus.\n\n'Told him to pull into shore; said there was a white forest runner on\nthe bank who was trying to get a shot at him.'\n\n'That doesn't seem fair,' Balthus objected. 'He thought a friend was\nspeaking to him. You mimicked a Pict perfectly--'\n\n'We needed his boat,' grunted Conan, not pausing in his exertions. 'Only\nway to lure him to the bank. Which is worse--to betray a Pict who'","or beast scream\nbefore. He fell between me and the fire they'd built to roast me,\ngagging and frothing at the mouth, and all at once he went rigid and the\nPicts shouted that he was dead. It was during the confusion that I\nslipped my cords and ran for the woods.\n\n'I saw him lying in the firelight. No weapon had touched him. Yet there\nwere red marks like the wounds of a sword in the groin, belly and\nneck--the last as if his head had been almost severed from his body.\nWhat",". They had left a trail any Pict\ncould follow.\n\nConan increased his speed, and Balthus grimly set his teeth and kept on\nhis heels, though he felt he might collapse any time. It seemed\ncenturies since he had eaten last. He kept going more by an effort of\nwill than anything else. His blood was pounding so furiously in his\neardrums that he was not aware when the yells died out behind them.\n\nConan halted suddenly. Balthus leaned against a tree and panted.\n\n'They've quit!' grunted","they were anxious to make the fort tonight. Did--did--'.\n\n'They met the Picts,' answered Balthus briefly, and the woman sobbed in\nhorror.\n\nThey were scarcely out of sight of the cabin when some distance behind\nthem quavered a long high-pitched yell.\n\n'A wolf!' exclaimed one of the women.\n\n'A painted wolf with an ax in his hand,' muttered Balthus. 'Go! Rouse\nthe other settlers along the road and take them with you. I'll scout\nal","'Some kind of devilment,' muttered the forest runner. 'They might have\ngathered here to watch Zogar's magic-making. He'll make some rare magic\nwith our carcasses. Well, a border-man doesn't expect to die in bed. But\nI wish we'd gone out along with the rest.'\n\nThe wolfish howling of the Picts rose in volume and exultation, and from\na movement in their ranks, an eager surging and crowding, Balthus\ndeduced that someone of importance was coming. Twisting his head"],[", and won't stop until\nthey're all killed. And there are too many of them for the men in the\nfort to kill. We couldn't break through, and if we did, we could do\nnothing but die with Valannus.'\n\n'There's nothing we can do but save our own hides, then?'\n\n'Yes. We've got to warn the settlers. Do you know why the Picts are not\ntrying to burn the fort with fire-arrows? Because they don't want a\nflame that might warn the people to",".\n\n'We've failed to warn the fort, and I see now it would have done no good\nif we had succeeded. The fort's too poorly manned. A few more charges\nand the Picts will be over the walls and breaking down the gates. But we\ncan start the settlers toward Velitrium. Come on! We're outside the\ncircle the Picts have thrown around the fort. We'll keep clear of it.'\n\nThey swung out in a wide arc, hearing the rising and falling of the\nvolume of the yells, marking each charge and rep","they were anxious to make the fort tonight. Did--did--'.\n\n'They met the Picts,' answered Balthus briefly, and the woman sobbed in\nhorror.\n\nThey were scarcely out of sight of the cabin when some distance behind\nthem quavered a long high-pitched yell.\n\n'A wolf!' exclaimed one of the women.\n\n'A painted wolf with an ax in his hand,' muttered Balthus. 'Go! Rouse\nthe other settlers along the road and take them with you. I'll scout\nal","'ve got\nto get back across the river and give the warning. The settlers on the\nVelitrium road must either get into the fort or back to Velitrium. While\nthe Picts are besieging the fort, war-parties will range the road far to\nthe east--might even cross Thunder River and raid the thickly settled\ncountry behind Velitrium.'\n\nAs he talked he was leading the way deeper and deeper into the ancient\nwilderness. Presently he grunted with satisfaction. They had reached a\nspot where the underbrush was more scattered,","and came in sight of the\nfirst settler's cabin--a long, low structure of ax-hewn logs. In an\ninstant he was pounding on the door. A sleepy voice inquired his\npleasure.\n\n'Get up! The Picts are over the river!'\n\nThat brought instant response. A low cry echoed his words and then the\ndoor was thrown open by a woman in a scanty shift. Her hair hung over\nher bare shoulders in disorder; she held a candle in one hand and an ax\nin the other. Her face was colorless","\nA week before, Balthus would have laughed at any such preposterous\nsuggestion. Now he made no reply. He had seen the unconquerable ferocity\nof the men who dwelt beyond the frontiers.\n\nHe shivered, casting glances at the sullen river, just visible through\nthe bushes, at the arches of the trees which crowded close to its banks.\nHe kept remembering that the Picts might have crossed the river and be\nlying in ambush between them and the fort. It was fast growing dark.\n\nA slight sound ahead of them","us urged that she herself mount\nwith them, but she shook her head and made one of the younger women\nride.\n\n'She's with child,' grunted the old woman. 'I can walk--and fight, too,\nif it comes to that.'\n\nAs they set out, one of the women said: 'A young couple passed along the\nroad about dusk; we advised them to spend the night at our cabin, but\nthey were anxious to make the fort tonight. Did--did--'.\n\n'They met the Picts,' answered Balthus briefly, and the woman","were traveling slowly, on foot and on the overloaded horses. The\nswift-footed Picts would run them down within a mile, unless--he took\nhis position behind a tangle of fallen logs beside the trail. The road\nwest of him was lighted by the burning cabin, and when the Picts came he\nsaw them first--black furtive figures etched against the distant glare.\n\nDrawing a shaft to the head, he loosed and one of the figures crumpled.\nThe rest melted into the woods on either side of the road. Slasher\n","over the forest.\nThey saw the fort, lighted with torches thrust over the parapets on long\npoles. These cast a flickering, uncertain light over the clearing, and\nin that light they saw throngs of naked, painted figures along the\nfringe of the clearing. The river swarmed with canoes. The Picts had the\nfort completely surrounded.\n\nAn incessant hail of arrows rained against the stockade from the woods\nand the river. The deep twanging of the bow-strings rose above the\nhowling. Yelling like wolves, several","back--and the fort, but that's getting too devilish close to the river.\nThe Picts steal over to burn and murder--as that one did. They don't\nalways come singly. Some day they'll try to sweep the settlers out of\nConajohara. And they may succeed--probably will succeed. This\ncolonization business is mad, anyway. There's plenty of good land east\nof the Bossonian marches. If the Aquilonians would cut up some of the\nbig estates of their barons, and plant wheat where now only deer","A Pict, by the gods!' exclaimed the wayfarer.\n\nThe burning blue eyes turned upon him.\n\n'Are you surprised?'\n\n'Why, they told me at Velitrium and again at the settlers' cabins along\nthe road, that these devils sometimes sneaked across the border, but I\ndidn't expect to meet one this far in the interior.'\n\n'You're only four miles east of Black River,' the stranger informed him.\n'They've been shot within a mile of Velitrium. No settler between\nThunder River and","within miles of Gwawela. All the Picts are gathered in that vicinity.\nWe'll circle wide around them. They can't track us until daylight.\nThey'll pick up our path then, but before dawn we'll leave the trail and\ntake to the woods.'\n\nThey plunged on. The yells died out behind them. Balthus' breath was\nwhistling through his teeth. He felt a pain in his side, and running\nbecame torture. He blundered against the bushes on each side of the\ntrail. Con","Marshes beyond that, too. That's why an attack\nmust come from the west, across Black River. Conajohara's just like a\nspear, with a point nineteen miles wide, thrust into the Pictish\nwilderness.'\n\n'Why don't we keep to the canoe and make the trip by water?'\n\n'Because, considering the current we've got to brace, and the bends in\nthe river, we can go faster afoot. Besides, remember Gwawela is south\nof the fort; if the Picts are crossing the river","Conan. The Picts are over the\nriver.'\n\n'We suspected as much,' answered the leader of the men, as they strode\nforward--tall, rangy men, stern-faced, with bows in their hands. 'One of\nour party wounded an antelope and tracked it nearly to Black River. He\nheard them yelling down the river and ran back to our camp. We left the\nsalt and the wagons, turned the oxen loose and came as swiftly as we\ncould. If the Picts are besieging the fort, war","ans\nand pushed back the frontier to Black River; but I doubt if you'll even\nbe able to hold what you've conquered, and you'll never push the\nfrontier any further westward. Your idiotic king doesn't understand\nconditions here. He won't send you enough reinforcements, and there are\nnot enough settlers to withstand the shock of a concerted attack from\nacross the river.'\n\n'But the Picts are divided into small clans,' persisted Balthus.\n'they'll never unite. We can whip any","might have crossed the river and be\nlying in ambush between them and the fort. It was fast growing dark.\n\nA slight sound ahead of them jumped his heart into his throat, and\nConan's sword gleamed in the air. He lowered it when a dog, a great,\ngaunt, scarred beast, slunk out of the bushes and stood staring at them.\n\n'That dog belonged to a settler who tried to build his cabin on the bank\nof the river a few miles south of the fort,' grunted Conan. 'The Picts\nslipped over and","'But the Picts are divided into small clans,' persisted Balthus.\n'they'll never unite. We can whip any single clan.'\n\n'Or any three or four clans,' admitted the slayer. 'But some day a man\nwill rise and unite thirty or forty clans, just as was done among the\nCimmerians, when the Gundermen tried to push the border northward, years\nago. They tried to colonize the southern marches of Cimmeria: destroyed\na few small clans, built a fort-town, Venarium","of him. From the noise they\nwere making in their progress he knew they were not Picts. He hailed\nthem.\n\n'Who's there?' challenged a harsh voice. 'Stand where you are until we\nknow you, or you'll get an arrow through you.'\n\n'You couldn't hit an elephant in this darkness,' answered Conan\nimpatiently. 'Come on, fool; it's I--Conan. The Picts are over the\nriver.'\n\n'We suspected as much,' answered the leader of the men, as they strode\n","in-cloth, a necklace of human\nteeth and a brass armlet. A short sword was thrust into the girdle of\nthe loin-cloth, and one hand still gripped a heavy black bow. The man\nhad long black hair; that was about all the wayfarer could tell about\nhis head, for his features were a mask of blood and brains. His skull\nhad been split to the teeth.\n\n'A Pict, by the gods!' exclaimed the wayfarer.\n\nThe burning blue eyes turned upon him.\n\n'Are you surprised?'\n","out of the Picts. Not a man who saw it was in the fighting before\nVelitrium. They hurried back across Black River. Those that struck\nThunder River were warriors who had come on before Zogar Sag died. They\nwere not enough to take the city by themselves.\n\n'I came along the road, behind their main force, and I know none\nfollowed me from the fort. I sneaked through their lines and got into\nthe town. You brought the settlers through all right, but their women\nand children got into Velitrium just ahead of those painted devils"],["ly. He cursed as he heard the shaft splinter\nagainst a tree, but Slasher glided away as silently as a phantom, and\npresently Balthus heard a thrashing and a gurgling; then Slasher came\nlike a ghost through the bushes, snuggling his great, crimson-stained\nhead against Balthus' arm. Blood oozed from a gash in his shoulder, but\nthe sounds in the wood had ceased for ever.\n\nThe men lurking on the edges of the road evidently sensed the fate of",", he loosed and one of the figures crumpled.\nThe rest melted into the woods on either side of the road. Slasher\nwhimpered with the killing lust beside him. Suddenly a figure appeared\non the fringe of the trail, under the trees, and began gliding toward\nthe fallen timbers. Balthus' bow-string twanged and the Pict yelped,\nstaggered and fell into the shadows with the arrow through his thigh.\nSlasher cleared the timbers with a bound and leaped into the bushes.\nThey were violently shaken","the arrow through his thigh.\nSlasher cleared the timbers with a bound and leaped into the bushes.\nThey were violently shaken and then the dog slunk back to Balthus' side,\nhis jaws crimson.\n\nNo more appeared in the trail; Balthus began to fear they were stealing\npast his position through the woods, and when he heard a faint sound to\nhis left he loosed blindly. He cursed as he heard the shaft splinter\nagainst a tree, but Slasher glided away as silently as a phantom","rolled down the logs from the force of his wasted blow. Before he\ncould regain his feet Slasher tore his throat out.\n\nThen followed a tense period of waiting, in which time Balthus wondered\nif the man who had fled had been the only survivor of the party.\nObviously it had been a small band that had either left the fighting at\nthe fort, or was scouting ahead of the main body. Each moment that\npassed increased the chances for safety of the women and children\nhurrying toward Velitrium.\n\nThen without warning a shower of arrows","the woods and\nturned wild--What now, Slasher, are you hunting the men who killed your\nmaster?'\n\nThe massive head swung from side to side and the eyes glowed greenly. He\ndid not growl or bark. Silently as a phantom he slid in behind them.\n\n'Let him come,' muttered Conan. 'He can smell the devils before we can\nsee them.'\n\nBalthus smiled and laid his hand caressingly on the dog's head. The\nlips involuntarily writhed back to display the gleaming fangs","build his cabin on the bank\nof the river a few miles south of the fort,' grunted Conan. 'The Picts\nslipped over and killed him, of course, and burned his cabin. We found\nhim dead among the embers, and the dog lying senseless among three Picts\nhe'd killed. He was almost cut to pieces. We took him to the fort and\ndressed his wounds, but after he recovered he took to the woods and\nturned wild--What now, Slasher, are you hunting the men who killed your\nmaster?'\n\nThe massive head swung","s garrison?' he asked.\n\n'I'm no soldier. I draw the pay and rations of an officer of the line,\nbut I do my work in the woods. Valannus knows I'm of more use ranging\nalong the river than cooped up in the fort.'\n\nCasually the slayer shoved the body deeper into the thickets with his\nfoot, pulled the bushes together and turned away down the trail. The\nother followed him.\n\n'My name is Balthus,' he offered. 'I was at Velitrium last night.","of the trail.\nThree dropped with arrows through them--and the remaining pair\nhesitated. One turned and ran back down the road, but the other lunged\nover the breastwork, his eyes and teeth gleaming in the dim light, his\nax lifted. Balthus' foot slipped as he sprang up, but the slip saved his\nlife. The descending ax shaved a lock of hair from his head, and the\nPict rolled down the logs from the force of his wasted blow. Before he\ncould regain his feet Slasher tore his throat out.\n\nThen","the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\ntaken. Slasher rumbled deep in his throat, his hackles stiff and his\neyes balls of green fire. Balthus remembered the grim apparition that\nhad taken the head of the merchant Tiberias not far from that spot, and\nhe hesitated. The thing must be following Conan. But the giant Cimmerian\nhad repeatedly demonstrated his ability to take care of himself, and\nBalthus felt his duty lay toward the helpless sett","from one armed man. But how do you know it was not\na Pict with some kind of a hook that rips instead of slicing? Did you\nsee it?'\n\n'Tiberias was an armed man,' grunted Conan. 'If Zogar Sag can bring\ndemons to aid him, he can tell them which men to kill and which to let\nalone. No, I didn't see it. I only saw the bushes shake as it left the\ntrail. But if you want further proof, look here!'\n\nThe slayer had stepped into the pool of","him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Conan had already killed one of the two he had chosen, and\nthe leap of the Aquilonian was a second late. The warrior was down with\nthe long sword through him even as Balthus' ax was lifted. Turning\ntoward the remaining Pict, Balthus saw Slasher rise from his victim, his\ngreat jaws dripping blood.\n\nBalthus said nothing as he looked down at the pitiful forms in","ously over one another in his\nfather's kennel yard. He sighed. The frontier was no less hard for\nbeasts than for men. This dog had almost forgotten the meaning of\nkindness and friendliness.\n\nSlasher glided ahead, and Conan let him take the lead. The last tinge of\ndusk faded into stark darkness. The miles fell away under their steady\nfeet. Slasher seemed voiceless. Suddenly he halted, tense, ears lifted.\nAn instant later the men heard it--a demoniac yelling up the river ahead\n","either side of the trail.\n\nBalthus muttered a horrified oath. It was the body of a man which lay\nthere in the trail, a short, fat man, clad in the gilt-worked boots and\n(despite the heat) the ermine-trimmed tunic of a wealthy merchant. His\nfat, pale face was set in a stare of frozen horror; his thick throat had\nbeen slashed from ear to ear as if by a razor-sharp blade. The short\nsword still in its scabbard seemed to indicate that he had","us\nreached out and grasped his shoulder. To his amazement, the man crumpled\nunder his touch and slumped down in the canoe. Twisting his body half\nabout, Balthus groped for him, his heart shooting into his throat. His\nfumbling fingers slid over the man's throat--only the youth's convulsive\nclenching of his jaws choked back the cry that rose to his lips. His\nfingers encountered a gaping, oozing wound--his companion's throat had\nbeen cut from ear to ear.","lips. His\nfingers encountered a gaping, oozing wound--his companion's throat had\nbeen cut from ear to ear.\n\nIn that instant of horror and panic Balthus started up--and then a\nmuscular arm out of the darkness locked fiercely about his throat,\nstrangling his yell. The canoe rocked wildly. Balthus' knife was in his\nhand, though he did not remember jerking it out of his boot, and he\nstabbed fiercely and blindly. He felt the blade sink deep, and a","the trail. The\nother followed him.\n\n'My name is Balthus,' he offered. 'I was at Velitrium last night. I\nhaven't decided whether I'll take up a hide of land, or enter\nfort-service.'\n\n'The best land near Thunder River is already taken,' grunted the slayer.\n'Plenty of good land between Scalp Creek--you crossed it a few miles\nback--and the fort, but that's getting too devilish close to the river.\nThe Picts steal over to burn and murder--as that","were traveling slowly, on foot and on the overloaded horses. The\nswift-footed Picts would run them down within a mile, unless--he took\nhis position behind a tangle of fallen logs beside the trail. The road\nwest of him was lighted by the burning cabin, and when the Picts came he\nsaw them first--black furtive figures etched against the distant glare.\n\nDrawing a shaft to the head, he loosed and one of the figures crumpled.\nThe rest melted into the woods on either side of the road. Slasher\n","been hideously slashed with many knives--a mist clouded\nBalthus' eyes and he swallowed chokingly. The tragedy momentarily\novercame him. He felt like falling upon the ground and weeping and\nbiting the earth.\n\n'Some young couple just hitting out on their own,' Conan was saying as\nhe wiped his sword unemotionally. 'On their way to the fort when the\nPicts met them. Maybe the boy was going to enter the service; maybe take\nup land on the river. Well, that's what will happen to every man, woman","tinged the glare he fixed on Zogar Sag.\n\nThe monster moved past the heap of bodies and the pile of gory heads\nwithout appearing to notice them. He was no scavenger. He hunted only\nthe living, in a life dedicated solely to slaughter. An awful hunger\nburned greenly in the wide, unwinking eyes; the hunger not alone of\nbelly-emptiness, but the lust of death-dealing. His gaping jaws\nslavered. The shaman stepped back; his hand waved toward the woodsman.\n\nThe great cat","ship\nbetween him and the great gaunt brute that glided beside him. Slasher no\nlonger growled with his head to the trail. The way was clear before\nthem. The yelling on the river came faintly to them, but Balthus\nbelieved the fort was still holding. Conan halted suddenly, with an\noath.\n\nHe showed Balthus a trail that led north from the road. It was an old\ntrail, partly grown with new young growth, and this growth had recently\nbeen broken down. Balthus realized this fact"],["and drawn your image\nin blood on the white tiger's hide that hangs before the long hut where\nsleep the Four Brothers of the Night. The great serpents coil about\ntheir feet and the stars burn like fire-flies in their hair.'\n\n'Why have the gods of darkness doomed me to death?' growled Conan.\n\nSomething--a hand, foot or talon, he could not tell which, thrust out\nfrom the fire and marked swiftly on the mold. A symbol blazed there,\nmarked with fire, and faded, but not before","before now,' snorted Conan. 'Why didn't\nyou kill me then, if you could?'\n\n'My brother had not painted a skull black for you and hurled it into the\nfire that burns for ever on Gullah's black altar. He had not whispered\nyour name to the black ghosts that haunt the uplands of the Dark Land.\nBut a bat has flown over the Mountains of the Dead and drawn your image\nin blood on the white tiger's hide that hangs before the long hut where\nsleep the Four Brothers of the Night","of the Dark Land, and they will tell you of the old gods\nwhich are not dead, but sleep in the outer abysses, and from time to\ntime awake.'\n\n'I'd like to see what you look like,' muttered Conan, working his ax\nfree, 'you who leave a track like a bird, who burn like a flame and yet\nspeak with a human voice.'\n\n'You shall see,' answered the voice from the flame, 'see, and carry the\nknowledge with you into the Dark Land.'\n\nThe flames leaped and sank, dwind","a damned Pictish swamp devil? A friend called me.'\n\n'I called in his voice,' answered the other. 'The men you follow belong\nto my brother; I would not rob his knife of their blood. But you are\nmine. Oh, fool, you have come from the far gray hills of Cimmeria to\nmeet your doom in the forests of Conajohara.'\n\n'You've had your chance at me before now,' snorted Conan. 'Why didn't\nyou kill me then, if you could?'\n\n'My brother had not painted a","The loon\nwhich is messenger to the Four Brothers of the Night flew swiftly and\nwhispered your name in my ear. Your head will hang in the altar-hut of\nmy brother. Your body will be eaten by the black-winged, sharp-beaked\nChildren of Jhil.'\n\n'Who the devil is your brother?' demanded Conan. His sword was naked in\nhis hand, and he was subtly loosening the ax in his belt.\n\n'Zogar Sag; a child of Jhebbal Sag who still visits","the rest of us prisoners when we were so weak\nfrom fighting we could fight no more. They butchered nine of us then and\nthere. It was when Zogar Sag died that I got my chance to break free and\nrun for it.'\n\n'Zogar Sag's dead?' ejaculated Conan.\n\n'Aye. I saw him die. That's why the Picts didn't press the fight against\nVelitrium as fiercely as they did against the fort. It was strange. He\ntook no wounds in battle. He was dancing","the eastern cities would sneer at his primitive\nmagic-making as the mummery of a fakir; yet he has driven mad and killed\nfive men in a manner no man can explain. I wonder if he himself is\nwholly human.'\n\n'If I can get within ax-throwing distance of him I'll settle that\nquestion,' growled Conan, helping himself to the governor's wine and\npushing a glass toward Balthus, who took it hesitatingly, and with an\nuncertain glance toward Valannus.\n\nThe governor turned toward Conan",".\n\nConan shook his head impatiently.\n\n'A man from the Tauran couldn't mistake the mark of a panther's claws.\nNo. It's a forest devil summoned by Zogar Sag to carry out his revenge.\nTiberias was a fool to start for Velitrium alone, and so close to dusk.\nBut each one of the victims seemed to be smitten with madness just\nbefore doom overtook him. Look here; the signs are plain enough.\nTiberias came riding along the trail on his m",". The soldiers\nwhisper of desertion; they are low-spirited, believing Zogar Sag has\nloosed devils on us. They fear the black plague with which he threatened\nus--the terrible black death of the swamplands. When I see a sick\nsoldier I sweat with fear of seeing him turn black and shrivel and die\nbefore my eyes.\n\n'Conan, if the plague is loosed upon us, the soldiers will desert in a\nbody! The border will be left unguarded and nothing will check the sweep\nof the","do not seem to fear any of the things\nin which you believe.'\n\n'There's nothing in the universe cold steel won't cut,' answered Conan.\n'I threw my ax at the demon, and he took no hurt, but I might have\nmissed, in the dusk, or a branch deflected its flight. I'm not going out\nof my way looking for devils; but I wouldn't step out of my path to let\none go by.'\n\nValannus lifted his head and met Conan's gaze squarely.\n\n'Conan","expectation of ripping talons and fangs leaping from the\nshadows.\n\n'Wait!'\n\nConan turned, squatted and with his knife began scratching a curious\nsymbol in the mold. Stooping to look at it over his shoulder, Balthus\nfelt a crawling of the flesh along his spine, he knew not why. He felt\nno wind against his face, but there was a rustling of leaves above them\nand a weird moaning swept ghostily through the branches. Conan glanced\nup inscrutably, then rose and stood staring somberly down at",". Indeed it was only a\nfew instants' fleeting glimpse they had of it--a tall, shadowy thing of\nmisty flame floating through the thickets. Then it was gone, and the\nforest crouched in breathless stillness.\n\nWith a snarl Conan plunged through the intervening foliage and into the\ntrail. His profanity, as Balthus floundered after him, was lurid and\nimpassioned. The Cimmerian was standing over the litter on which lay the\nbody of Tiberias. And that",", 'if he can order the beasts to do his bidding,\nwhy doesn't he rouse them all and have them after us? The forest is full\nof leopards; why send only one after us?'\n\nConan did not reply for a space, and when he did it was with a curious\nreticence.\n\n'He can't command all the animals. Only such as remember Jhebbal Sag.'\n\n'Jhebbal Sag?' Balthus repeated the ancient name hesitantly. He had\nnever heard it spoken more than three or","autiously he called: 'Here I am.'\n\n'Wait for me, Conan!' the voice came more distinctly.\n\nConan moved out of the shadows, scowling. 'What the devil are you doing\nhere?--Crom!'\n\nHe half crouched, the flesh prickling along his spine. It was not\nBalthus who was emerging from the other side of the glade. A weird glow\nburned through the trees. It moved toward him, shimmering weirdly--a\ngreen witch-fire that moved with purpose and intent.\n\nIt","of dead Picts--I counted seven, brained by his ax, or disemboweled\nby the dog's fangs, and there were others in the road with arrows\nsticking in them. Gods, what a fight that must have been!'\n\n'He was a man,' said Conan. 'I drink to his shade, and to the shade of\nthe dog, who knew no fear.' He quaffed part of the wine, then emptied\nthe rest upon the floor, with a curious heathen gesture, and smashed the\ngoblet. 'The heads of","of him. From the noise they\nwere making in their progress he knew they were not Picts. He hailed\nthem.\n\n'Who's there?' challenged a harsh voice. 'Stand where you are until we\nknow you, or you'll get an arrow through you.'\n\n'You couldn't hit an elephant in this darkness,' answered Conan\nimpatiently. 'Come on, fool; it's I--Conan. The Picts are over the\nriver.'\n\n'We suspected as much,' answered the leader of the men, as they strode\n","How do you know they weren't killed by the Picts?' demanded Balthus.\n\nConan pointed to the corpse of the merchant.\n\n'You think that was done with a knife or a sword? Look closer and you'll\nsee that only a talon could have made a gash like that. The flesh is\nripped, not cut.'\n\n'Perhaps a panther----' began Balthus, without conviction.\n\nConan shook his head impatiently.\n\n'A man from the Tauran couldn't mistake the mark of a panther","is loosed upon us, the soldiers will desert in a\nbody! The border will be left unguarded and nothing will check the sweep\nof the dark-skinned hordes to the very gates of Velitrium--maybe beyond!\nIf we can not hold the fort, how can they hold the town?\n\n'Conan, Zogar Sag must die, if we are to hold Conajohara. You have\npenetrated the unknown deeper than any other man in the fort; you know\nwhere Gwawela stands, and something of the forest trails across the\nriver","s death for us all. You can take as many men as you wish.'\n\n'A dozen men are better for a job like that than a regiment,' answered\nConan. 'Five hundred men couldn't fight their way to Gwawela and back,\nbut a dozen might slip in and out again. Let me pick my men. I don't\nwant any soldiers.'\n\n'Let me go!' eagerly exclaimed Balthus. 'I've hunted deer all my life on\nthe Tauran.'\n\n'All right. Valannus, we'","wilderness and\nmake them do his bidding. They would say it is a lie, if they dared.\nThat's the way with civilized men. When they can't explain something by\ntheir half-baked science, they refuse to believe it.'\n\nThe people on the Tauran were closer to the primitive than most\nAquilonians; superstitions persisted, whose sources were lost in\nantiquity. And Balthus had seen that which still prickled his flesh. He\ncould not refute the monstrous thing which Conan's words"],["ly. He cursed as he heard the shaft splinter\nagainst a tree, but Slasher glided away as silently as a phantom, and\npresently Balthus heard a thrashing and a gurgling; then Slasher came\nlike a ghost through the bushes, snuggling his great, crimson-stained\nhead against Balthus' arm. Blood oozed from a gash in his shoulder, but\nthe sounds in the wood had ceased for ever.\n\nThe men lurking on the edges of the road evidently sensed the fate of","rolled down the logs from the force of his wasted blow. Before he\ncould regain his feet Slasher tore his throat out.\n\nThen followed a tense period of waiting, in which time Balthus wondered\nif the man who had fled had been the only survivor of the party.\nObviously it had been a small band that had either left the fighting at\nthe fort, or was scouting ahead of the main body. Each moment that\npassed increased the chances for safety of the women and children\nhurrying toward Velitrium.\n\nThen without warning a shower of arrows","of the trail.\nThree dropped with arrows through them--and the remaining pair\nhesitated. One turned and ran back down the road, but the other lunged\nover the breastwork, his eyes and teeth gleaming in the dim light, his\nax lifted. Balthus' foot slipped as he sprang up, but the slip saved his\nlife. The descending ax shaved a lock of hair from his head, and the\nPict rolled down the logs from the force of his wasted blow. Before he\ncould regain his feet Slasher tore his throat out.\n\nThen","s garrison?' he asked.\n\n'I'm no soldier. I draw the pay and rations of an officer of the line,\nbut I do my work in the woods. Valannus knows I'm of more use ranging\nalong the river than cooped up in the fort.'\n\nCasually the slayer shoved the body deeper into the thickets with his\nfoot, pulled the bushes together and turned away down the trail. The\nother followed him.\n\n'My name is Balthus,' he offered. 'I was at Velitrium last night.","him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Conan had already killed one of the two he had chosen, and\nthe leap of the Aquilonian was a second late. The warrior was down with\nthe long sword through him even as Balthus' ax was lifted. Turning\ntoward the remaining Pict, Balthus saw Slasher rise from his victim, his\ngreat jaws dripping blood.\n\nBalthus said nothing as he looked down at the pitiful forms in",", he loosed and one of the figures crumpled.\nThe rest melted into the woods on either side of the road. Slasher\nwhimpered with the killing lust beside him. Suddenly a figure appeared\non the fringe of the trail, under the trees, and began gliding toward\nthe fallen timbers. Balthus' bow-string twanged and the Pict yelped,\nstaggered and fell into the shadows with the arrow through his thigh.\nSlasher cleared the timbers with a bound and leaped into the bushes.\nThey were violently shaken","Lifting his bow he lined\nthe prancing figure, black against the fire, and loosed. The slayer\nleaped convulsively and fell dead with the arrow through his heart. Then\nthe two white men and the dog were upon the startled survivors. Conan\nwas animated merely by his fighting spirit and an old, old racial hate,\nbut Balthus was afire with wrath.\n\nHe met the first Pict to oppose him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Con","driving his knees at the youth's groin. Suddenly he attempted to shift\nhis knife to his free hand, and in that instant Balthus, struggling up\non one knee, split the painted head with a desperate blow of his ax.\n\nHe sprang up and glared wildly about for his companion, expecting to see\nhim overwhelmed by numbers. Then he realized the full strength and\nferocity of the Cimmerian. Conan bestrode two of his attackers, shorn\nhalf asunder by that terrible broadsword. As Balthus looked he saw the\nCimmer","the arrow through his thigh.\nSlasher cleared the timbers with a bound and leaped into the bushes.\nThey were violently shaken and then the dog slunk back to Balthus' side,\nhis jaws crimson.\n\nNo more appeared in the trail; Balthus began to fear they were stealing\npast his position through the woods, and when he heard a faint sound to\nhis left he loosed blindly. He cursed as he heard the shaft splinter\nagainst a tree, but Slasher glided away as silently as a phantom","released him and ran into the building where the skulls hung. Balthus\nfollowed him. He got a glimpse of a grim stone altar, faintly lighted by\nthe glow outside; five human heads grinned on that altar, and there was\na grisly familiarity about the features of the freshest; it was the head\nof the merchant Tiberias. Behind the altar was an idol, dim, indistinct,\nbestial, yet vaguely man-like in outline. Then fresh horror choked\nBalthus as the shape heaved up suddenly with","the woods and\nturned wild--What now, Slasher, are you hunting the men who killed your\nmaster?'\n\nThe massive head swung from side to side and the eyes glowed greenly. He\ndid not growl or bark. Silently as a phantom he slid in behind them.\n\n'Let him come,' muttered Conan. 'He can smell the devils before we can\nsee them.'\n\nBalthus smiled and laid his hand caressingly on the dog's head. The\nlips involuntarily writhed back to display the gleaming fangs","the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\ntaken. Slasher rumbled deep in his throat, his hackles stiff and his\neyes balls of green fire. Balthus remembered the grim apparition that\nhad taken the head of the merchant Tiberias not far from that spot, and\nhe hesitated. The thing must be following Conan. But the giant Cimmerian\nhad repeatedly demonstrated his ability to take care of himself, and\nBalthus felt his duty lay toward the helpless sett","us\nreached out and grasped his shoulder. To his amazement, the man crumpled\nunder his touch and slumped down in the canoe. Twisting his body half\nabout, Balthus groped for him, his heart shooting into his throat. His\nfumbling fingers slid over the man's throat--only the youth's convulsive\nclenching of his jaws choked back the cry that rose to his lips. His\nfingers encountered a gaping, oozing wound--his companion's throat had\nbeen cut from ear to ear.","curving back slightly for the stroke. Balthus gazed\nwith glazed, hypnotized stare into that loathesome gullet down which he\nwould soon be engulfed, and he was aware of no sensation except a vague\nnausea.\n\nAnd then something that glinted in the firelight streaked from the\nshadows of the huts, and the great reptile whipped about and went into\ninstant convulsions. As in a dream Balthus saw a short throwing-spear\ntransfixing the mighty neck, just below the gap","either side of the trail.\n\nBalthus muttered a horrified oath. It was the body of a man which lay\nthere in the trail, a short, fat man, clad in the gilt-worked boots and\n(despite the heat) the ermine-trimmed tunic of a wealthy merchant. His\nfat, pale face was set in a stare of frozen horror; his thick throat had\nbeen slashed from ear to ear as if by a razor-sharp blade. The short\nsword still in its scabbard seemed to indicate that he had","been hideously slashed with many knives--a mist clouded\nBalthus' eyes and he swallowed chokingly. The tragedy momentarily\novercame him. He felt like falling upon the ground and weeping and\nbiting the earth.\n\n'Some young couple just hitting out on their own,' Conan was saying as\nhe wiped his sword unemotionally. 'On their way to the fort when the\nPicts met them. Maybe the boy was going to enter the service; maybe take\nup land on the river. Well, that's what will happen to every man, woman","lips. His\nfingers encountered a gaping, oozing wound--his companion's throat had\nbeen cut from ear to ear.\n\nIn that instant of horror and panic Balthus started up--and then a\nmuscular arm out of the darkness locked fiercely about his throat,\nstrangling his yell. The canoe rocked wildly. Balthus' knife was in his\nhand, though he did not remember jerking it out of his boot, and he\nstabbed fiercely and blindly. He felt the blade sink deep, and a","ship\nbetween him and the great gaunt brute that glided beside him. Slasher no\nlonger growled with his head to the trail. The way was clear before\nthem. The yelling on the river came faintly to them, but Balthus\nbelieved the fort was still holding. Conan halted suddenly, with an\noath.\n\nHe showed Balthus a trail that led north from the road. It was an old\ntrail, partly grown with new young growth, and this growth had recently\nbeen broken down. Balthus realized this fact","the trail. The\nother followed him.\n\n'My name is Balthus,' he offered. 'I was at Velitrium last night. I\nhaven't decided whether I'll take up a hide of land, or enter\nfort-service.'\n\n'The best land near Thunder River is already taken,' grunted the slayer.\n'Plenty of good land between Scalp Creek--you crossed it a few miles\nback--and the fort, but that's getting too devilish close to the river.\nThe Picts steal over to burn and murder--as that","Balthus forgot his hunger and weariness.\nThe yells grew louder as they advanced, and above the devilish screaming\nthey could hear the deep shouts of the soldiers. Just as Balthus began\nto fear they would run into the savages who seemed to be howling just\nahead of them, Conan swung away from the river in a wide semicircle that\ncarried them to a low rise from which they could look over the forest.\nThey saw the fort, lighted with torches thrust over the parapets on long\npoles. These cast a flickering"],["the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\ntaken. Slasher rumbled deep in his throat, his hackles stiff and his\neyes balls of green fire. Balthus remembered the grim apparition that\nhad taken the head of the merchant Tiberias not far from that spot, and\nhe hesitated. The thing must be following Conan. But the giant Cimmerian\nhad repeatedly demonstrated his ability to take care of himself, and\nBalthus felt his duty lay toward the helpless sett","him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Conan had already killed one of the two he had chosen, and\nthe leap of the Aquilonian was a second late. The warrior was down with\nthe long sword through him even as Balthus' ax was lifted. Turning\ntoward the remaining Pict, Balthus saw Slasher rise from his victim, his\ngreat jaws dripping blood.\n\nBalthus said nothing as he looked down at the pitiful forms in","ship\nbetween him and the great gaunt brute that glided beside him. Slasher no\nlonger growled with his head to the trail. The way was clear before\nthem. The yelling on the river came faintly to them, but Balthus\nbelieved the fort was still holding. Conan halted suddenly, with an\noath.\n\nHe showed Balthus a trail that led north from the road. It was an old\ntrail, partly grown with new young growth, and this growth had recently\nbeen broken down. Balthus realized this fact","had just crossed a small glade when he wheeled answering the\nconviction of his primitive instincts that he was being followed.\nStanding motionless among the bushes he heard the sounds of the\nretreating settlers fade away. Then a voice called faintly back along\nthe way he had come: 'Conan! Conan! Wait for me, Conan!'\n\n'Balthus!' he swore bewilderedly. Cautiously he called: 'Here I am.'\n\n'Wait for me, Conan!' the voice came more distinctly.\n\nConan moved","the eastern cities would sneer at his primitive\nmagic-making as the mummery of a fakir; yet he has driven mad and killed\nfive men in a manner no man can explain. I wonder if he himself is\nwholly human.'\n\n'If I can get within ax-throwing distance of him I'll settle that\nquestion,' growled Conan, helping himself to the governor's wine and\npushing a glass toward Balthus, who took it hesitatingly, and with an\nuncertain glance toward Valannus.\n\nThe governor turned toward Conan","Lifting his bow he lined\nthe prancing figure, black against the fire, and loosed. The slayer\nleaped convulsively and fell dead with the arrow through his heart. Then\nthe two white men and the dog were upon the startled survivors. Conan\nwas animated merely by his fighting spirit and an old, old racial hate,\nbut Balthus was afire with wrath.\n\nHe met the first Pict to oppose him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Con","the woods and\nturned wild--What now, Slasher, are you hunting the men who killed your\nmaster?'\n\nThe massive head swung from side to side and the eyes glowed greenly. He\ndid not growl or bark. Silently as a phantom he slid in behind them.\n\n'Let him come,' muttered Conan. 'He can smell the devils before we can\nsee them.'\n\nBalthus smiled and laid his hand caressingly on the dog's head. The\nlips involuntarily writhed back to display the gleaming fangs","told him Tiberias had heard the loon\ncall when he rode through the gate on his mule, with his glassy stare. I\nwagered he'd come back without his head.'\n\nConan grunted enigmatically, motioned Balthus to ease the litter to the\nground, and then strode off toward the governor's quarters, with the\nAquilonian at his heels. The tousle-headed youth stared about him\neagerly and curiously, noting the rows of barracks along the walls, the\nstables, the tiny merchants'","ly. He cursed as he heard the shaft splinter\nagainst a tree, but Slasher glided away as silently as a phantom, and\npresently Balthus heard a thrashing and a gurgling; then Slasher came\nlike a ghost through the bushes, snuggling his great, crimson-stained\nhead against Balthus' arm. Blood oozed from a gash in his shoulder, but\nthe sounds in the wood had ceased for ever.\n\nThe men lurking on the edges of the road evidently sensed the fate of","\nBalthus realized that they did not yet know their prisoner had escaped.\nFrom other sounds he believed that the warriors, directed by the shrill\nvoice of Zogar Sag, were destroying the wounded serpent with arrows. The\nmonster was out of the shaman's control. A moment later the quality of\nthe yells was altered. Screeches of rage rose in the night.\n\nConan laughed grimly. He was leading Balthus along a narrow trail that\nran west under the black branches, stepping as swiftly and surely as if\nhe trod a well","driving his knees at the youth's groin. Suddenly he attempted to shift\nhis knife to his free hand, and in that instant Balthus, struggling up\non one knee, split the painted head with a desperate blow of his ax.\n\nHe sprang up and glared wildly about for his companion, expecting to see\nhim overwhelmed by numbers. Then he realized the full strength and\nferocity of the Cimmerian. Conan bestrode two of his attackers, shorn\nhalf asunder by that terrible broadsword. As Balthus looked he saw the\nCimmer","back to the road. We'll head straight through the woods.'\n\nWith no further comment Conan turned off the trail and hurried down the\ndim path, and Balthus, after staring after him for a few moments, set\nout along the road. The dog had remained with him, and glided softly at\nhis heels. When Balthus had gone a few rods he heard the animal growl.\nWhirling, he glared back the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\nt",";\nthen: 'Listen!'\n\nHe stopped short, half crouching, sword ready, transformed into a savage\nfigure of suspicion and menace, poised to spring and rend. Balthus had\nheard it too--a wild scream that broke at its highest note. It was the\ncry of a man in dire fear or agony.\n\nConan was off in an instant, racing down the trail, each stride widening\nthe distance between him and his straining companion. Balthus puffed a\ncurse. Among the settlements of the Tauran he was","Maybe the boy was going to enter the service; maybe take\nup land on the river. Well, that's what will happen to every man, woman\nand child this side of Thunder River if we don't get them into Velitrium\nin a hurry.'\n\nBalthus' knees trembled as he followed Conan. But there was no hint of\nweakness in the long easy stride of the Cimmerian. There was a kinship\nbetween him and the great gaunt brute that glided beside him. Slasher no\nlonger growled with his head to the trail","behind them.\n\nConan halted suddenly. Balthus leaned against a tree and panted.\n\n'They've quit!' grunted the Cimmerian, scowling.\n\n'Sneaking--up--on--us!' gasped Balthus.\n\nConan shook his head.\n\n'A short chase like this they'd yell every step of the way. No. They've\ngone back. I thought I heard somebody yelling behind them a few seconds\nbefore the noise began to get dimmer. They've been recalled. And that'","s death for us all. You can take as many men as you wish.'\n\n'A dozen men are better for a job like that than a regiment,' answered\nConan. 'Five hundred men couldn't fight their way to Gwawela and back,\nbut a dozen might slip in and out again. Let me pick my men. I don't\nwant any soldiers.'\n\n'Let me go!' eagerly exclaimed Balthus. 'I've hunted deer all my life on\nthe Tauran.'\n\n'All right. Valannus, we'","Balthus forgot his hunger and weariness.\nThe yells grew louder as they advanced, and above the devilish screaming\nthey could hear the deep shouts of the soldiers. Just as Balthus began\nto fear they would run into the savages who seemed to be howling just\nahead of them, Conan swung away from the river in a wide semicircle that\ncarried them to a low rise from which they could look over the forest.\nThey saw the fort, lighted with torches thrust over the parapets on long\npoles. These cast a flickering","toward Balthus, who took it hesitatingly, and with an\nuncertain glance toward Valannus.\n\nThe governor turned toward Conan and stared at him thoughtfully.\n\n'The soldiers, who do not believe in ghosts or devils,' he said, 'are\nalmost in a panic of fear. You, who believe in ghosts, ghouls, goblins,\nand all manner of uncanny things, do not seem to fear any of the things\nin which you believe.'\n\n'There's nothing in the universe cold steel won't cut,'","build his cabin on the bank\nof the river a few miles south of the fort,' grunted Conan. 'The Picts\nslipped over and killed him, of course, and burned his cabin. We found\nhim dead among the embers, and the dog lying senseless among three Picts\nhe'd killed. He was almost cut to pieces. We took him to the fort and\ndressed his wounds, but after he recovered he took to the woods and\nturned wild--What now, Slasher, are you hunting the men who killed your\nmaster?'\n\nThe massive head swung","\nThe other nodded, without taking offence.\n\n'I am Conan, a Cimmerian.'\n\n'I've heard of you.' Fresh interest quickened Balthus' gaze. No wonder\nthe Pict had fallen victim to his own sort of subtlety. The Cimmerians\nwere barbarians as ferocious as the Picts, and much more intelligent.\nEvidently Conan had spent much time among civilized men, though that\ncontact had obviously not softened him, nor weakened any of his\nprimitive instincts. Balthus' apprehension"],["talked\nin hushed voices, and men with red-stained bandages drank their ale\nsilently in the taverns along the river bank.\n\nThere, to Conan the Cimmerian, moodily quaffing from a great wine-glass,\ncame a gaunt forester with a bandage about his head and his arm in a\nsling. He was the one survivor of Fort Tuscelan.\n\n'You went with the soldiers to the ruins of the fort?'\n\nConan nodded.\n\n'I wasn't able,' murmured the other.","'s\nsteep-thatched, diamond-paned house, of the fat cows browsing through\nthe deep, lush grass, and the hearty fellowship of the brawny,\nbare-armed plowmen and herdsmen.\n\nHe felt lonely, in spite of his companion. Conan was as much a part of\nthis wilderness as Balthus was alien to it. The Cimmerian might have\nspent years among the great cities of the world; he might have walked\nwith the rulers of civilization; he might even achieve his wild whim\n","ines had been pushed, with slaughter and\nmassacre. But the dark-skinned people did not forget that once\nConajohara had been theirs.\n\nThe guard inside the eastern gate bawled a challenge. Through a barred\naperture torchlight flickered, glinting on a steel head-piece and\nsuspicious eyes beneath it.\n\n'Open the gate,' snorted Conan. 'You see it's I, don't you?'\n\nMilitary discipline put his teeth on edge.\n\nThe gate swung inward and Conan and his","It was an old\ntrail, partly grown with new young growth, and this growth had recently\nbeen broken down. Balthus realized this fact more by feel than sight,\nthough Conan seemed to see like a cat in the dark. The Cimmerian showed\nhim where broad wagon tracks turned off the main trail, deeply indented\nin the forest mold.\n\n'Settlers going to the licks after salt,' he grunted. 'They're at the\nedges of the marsh, about nine miles from here. Blast it! They'll be cut\noff and but","had just crossed a small glade when he wheeled answering the\nconviction of his primitive instincts that he was being followed.\nStanding motionless among the bushes he heard the sounds of the\nretreating settlers fade away. Then a voice called faintly back along\nthe way he had come: 'Conan! Conan! Wait for me, Conan!'\n\n'Balthus!' he swore bewilderedly. Cautiously he called: 'Here I am.'\n\n'Wait for me, Conan!' the voice came more distinctly.\n\nConan moved","the rest of us prisoners when we were so weak\nfrom fighting we could fight no more. They butchered nine of us then and\nthere. It was when Zogar Sag died that I got my chance to break free and\nrun for it.'\n\n'Zogar Sag's dead?' ejaculated Conan.\n\n'Aye. I saw him die. That's why the Picts didn't press the fight against\nVelitrium as fiercely as they did against the fort. It was strange. He\ntook no wounds in battle. He was dancing","about the council fires.'\n\nBalthus involuntarily recoiled, staring. It seemed incredible that the\nman walking tranquilly at his side should have been one of those\nscreeching, blood-mad devils that had poured over the walls of Venarium\non that long-gone day to make her streets run crimson.\n\n'Then you, too, are a barbarian!' he exclaimed involuntarily.\n\nThe other nodded, without taking offence.\n\n'I am Conan, a Cimmerian.'\n\n'I've heard of you","of him. From the noise they\nwere making in their progress he knew they were not Picts. He hailed\nthem.\n\n'Who's there?' challenged a harsh voice. 'Stand where you are until we\nknow you, or you'll get an arrow through you.'\n\n'You couldn't hit an elephant in this darkness,' answered Conan\nimpatiently. 'Come on, fool; it's I--Conan. The Picts are over the\nriver.'\n\n'We suspected as much,' answered the leader of the men, as they strode\n","of the Dark Land, and they will tell you of the old gods\nwhich are not dead, but sleep in the outer abysses, and from time to\ntime awake.'\n\n'I'd like to see what you look like,' muttered Conan, working his ax\nfree, 'you who leave a track like a bird, who burn like a flame and yet\nspeak with a human voice.'\n\n'You shall see,' answered the voice from the flame, 'see, and carry the\nknowledge with you into the Dark Land.'\n\nThe flames leaped and sank, dwind","gate. The rangy figures of Aquilonian pikemen and forest runners\nmingled with the shorter, stockier forms of Bossonian archers.\n\nHe was not greatly surprised that the governor received them himself.\nAutocratic society with its rigid caste laws lay east of the marches.\nValannus was still a young man, well knit, with a finely chiseled\ncountenance already carved into sober cast by toil and responsibility.\n\n'You left the fort before daybreak, I was told,' he said to Conan. 'I\nhad begun to","young sir. I wish more of your people would\ncome. We need men used to forest life. Many of our soldiers and some of\nour settlers are from the eastern provinces and know nothing of\nwoodcraft, or even of agricultural life.'\n\n'Not many of that breed this side of Velitrium,' grunted Conan. 'That\ntown's full of them, though. But listen, Valannus, we found Tiberias\ndead on the trail.' And in a few words he related the grisly affair.\n\nValannus paled. 'I did not know","the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\ntaken. Slasher rumbled deep in his throat, his hackles stiff and his\neyes balls of green fire. Balthus remembered the grim apparition that\nhad taken the head of the merchant Tiberias not far from that spot, and\nhe hesitated. The thing must be following Conan. But the giant Cimmerian\nhad repeatedly demonstrated his ability to take care of himself, and\nBalthus felt his duty lay toward the helpless sett","ible that ten men should thus fade into the tangled forest without\na sound.\n\nHe settled himself to wait. No word passed between him and the other man\nwho had been left with him. Somewhere, a mile or so to the northwest,\nZogar Sag's village stood girdled with thick woods. Balthus understood\nhis orders; he and his companion were to wait for the return of the\nraiding-party. If Conan and his men had not returned by the first tinge\nof dawn, they were to race back up the river to the fort and report","Maybe the boy was going to enter the service; maybe take\nup land on the river. Well, that's what will happen to every man, woman\nand child this side of Thunder River if we don't get them into Velitrium\nin a hurry.'\n\nBalthus' knees trembled as he followed Conan. But there was no hint of\nweakness in the long easy stride of the Cimmerian. There was a kinship\nbetween him and the great gaunt brute that glided beside him. Slasher no\nlonger growled with his head to the trail","rebuild the fort?'\n\n'No; Conajohara is lost to Aquilonia. The frontier has been pushed back.\nThunder River will be the new border.'\n\nThe woodsman sighed and stared at his calloused hand, worn from contact\nwith ax-haft and sword-hilt. Conan reached his long arm for the\nwine-jug. The forester stared at him, comparing him with the men about\nthem, the men who had died along the lost river, comparing him with\nthose other wild men over that river. Conan did not","the eastern cities would sneer at his primitive\nmagic-making as the mummery of a fakir; yet he has driven mad and killed\nfive men in a manner no man can explain. I wonder if he himself is\nwholly human.'\n\n'If I can get within ax-throwing distance of him I'll settle that\nquestion,' growled Conan, helping himself to the governor's wine and\npushing a glass toward Balthus, who took it hesitatingly, and with an\nuncertain glance toward Valannus.\n\nThe governor turned toward Conan","deeper into the ancient\nwilderness. Presently he grunted with satisfaction. They had reached a\nspot where the underbrush was more scattered, and an outcropping of\nstone was visible, wandering off southward. Balthus felt more secure as\nthey followed it. Not even a Pict could trail them over naked rock.\n\n'How did you get away?' he asked presently.\n\nConan tapped his mail-shirt and helmet.\n\n'If more borderers would wear harness there'd be fewer skulls hanging on\nthe altar-huts. But","We should either have given him presents and sent him home, or else\nhanged him,' sighed the governor. 'You advised that, but----'\n\n'But it's hard for you Hyborians to learn the ways of the outlands,'\nsaid Conan. 'Well, it can't be helped now, but there'll be no peace on\nthe border so long as Zogar lives and remembers the cell he sweated in.\nI was following a warrior who slipped over to put a few white notches on\nhis bow. After I split his head I fell in with","ship\nbetween him and the great gaunt brute that glided beside him. Slasher no\nlonger growled with his head to the trail. The way was clear before\nthem. The yelling on the river came faintly to them, but Balthus\nbelieved the fort was still holding. Conan halted suddenly, with an\noath.\n\nHe showed Balthus a trail that led north from the road. It was an old\ntrail, partly grown with new young growth, and this growth had recently\nbeen broken down. Balthus realized this fact","a damned Pictish swamp devil? A friend called me.'\n\n'I called in his voice,' answered the other. 'The men you follow belong\nto my brother; I would not rob his knife of their blood. But you are\nmine. Oh, fool, you have come from the far gray hills of Cimmeria to\nmeet your doom in the forests of Conajohara.'\n\n'You've had your chance at me before now,' snorted Conan. 'Why didn't\nyou kill me then, if you could?'\n\n'My brother had not painted a"],["the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\ntaken. Slasher rumbled deep in his throat, his hackles stiff and his\neyes balls of green fire. Balthus remembered the grim apparition that\nhad taken the head of the merchant Tiberias not far from that spot, and\nhe hesitated. The thing must be following Conan. But the giant Cimmerian\nhad repeatedly demonstrated his ability to take care of himself, and\nBalthus felt his duty lay toward the helpless sett","Lifting his bow he lined\nthe prancing figure, black against the fire, and loosed. The slayer\nleaped convulsively and fell dead with the arrow through his heart. Then\nthe two white men and the dog were upon the startled survivors. Conan\nwas animated merely by his fighting spirit and an old, old racial hate,\nbut Balthus was afire with wrath.\n\nHe met the first Pict to oppose him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Con","the woods and\nturned wild--What now, Slasher, are you hunting the men who killed your\nmaster?'\n\nThe massive head swung from side to side and the eyes glowed greenly. He\ndid not growl or bark. Silently as a phantom he slid in behind them.\n\n'Let him come,' muttered Conan. 'He can smell the devils before we can\nsee them.'\n\nBalthus smiled and laid his hand caressingly on the dog's head. The\nlips involuntarily writhed back to display the gleaming fangs","from ear to ear as if by a razor-sharp blade. The short\nsword still in its scabbard seemed to indicate that he had been struck\ndown without a chance to fight for his life.\n\n'A Pict?' Balthus whispered, as he turned to peer into the deepening\nshadows of the forest.\n\nConan shook his head and straightened to scowl down at the dead man.\n\n'A forest devil. This is the fifth, by Crom!'\n\n'What do you mean?'\n\n'Did you ever hear of a Pictish w","back to the road. We'll head straight through the woods.'\n\nWith no further comment Conan turned off the trail and hurried down the\ndim path, and Balthus, after staring after him for a few moments, set\nout along the road. The dog had remained with him, and glided softly at\nhis heels. When Balthus had gone a few rods he heard the animal growl.\nWhirling, he glared back the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\nt","him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Conan had already killed one of the two he had chosen, and\nthe leap of the Aquilonian was a second late. The warrior was down with\nthe long sword through him even as Balthus' ax was lifted. Turning\ntoward the remaining Pict, Balthus saw Slasher rise from his victim, his\ngreat jaws dripping blood.\n\nBalthus said nothing as he looked down at the pitiful forms in","And Balthus had seen that which still prickled his flesh. He\ncould not refute the monstrous thing which Conan's words implied.\n\n'I've heard that there's an ancient grove sacred to Jhebbal Sag\nsomewhere in this forest,' said Conan. 'I don't know. I've never seen\nit. But more beasts _remember_ in this country than any I've ever seen.'\n\n'Then others will be on our trail?'\n\n'They are now,' was Conan's disquiet","\nBalthus realized that they did not yet know their prisoner had escaped.\nFrom other sounds he believed that the warriors, directed by the shrill\nvoice of Zogar Sag, were destroying the wounded serpent with arrows. The\nmonster was out of the shaman's control. A moment later the quality of\nthe yells was altered. Screeches of rage rose in the night.\n\nConan laughed grimly. He was leading Balthus along a narrow trail that\nran west under the black branches, stepping as swiftly and surely as if\nhe trod a well",". Indeed it was only a\nfew instants' fleeting glimpse they had of it--a tall, shadowy thing of\nmisty flame floating through the thickets. Then it was gone, and the\nforest crouched in breathless stillness.\n\nWith a snarl Conan plunged through the intervening foliage and into the\ntrail. His profanity, as Balthus floundered after him, was lurid and\nimpassioned. The Cimmerian was standing over the litter on which lay the\nbody of Tiberias. And that","still shuddering through the forest in grisly echoes, put\non an extra burst of speed and plunged after him.\n\nThe Aquilonian slid to a stumbling halt, almost colliding with the\nCimmerian who stood in the trail over a crumpled body. But Conan was not\nlooking at the corpse which lay there in the crimson-soaked dust. He was\nglaring into the deep woods on either side of the trail.\n\nBalthus muttered a horrified oath. It was the body of a man which lay\nthere in the","driving his knees at the youth's groin. Suddenly he attempted to shift\nhis knife to his free hand, and in that instant Balthus, struggling up\non one knee, split the painted head with a desperate blow of his ax.\n\nHe sprang up and glared wildly about for his companion, expecting to see\nhim overwhelmed by numbers. Then he realized the full strength and\nferocity of the Cimmerian. Conan bestrode two of his attackers, shorn\nhalf asunder by that terrible broadsword. As Balthus looked he saw the\nCimmer","Balthus forgot his hunger and weariness.\nThe yells grew louder as they advanced, and above the devilish screaming\nthey could hear the deep shouts of the soldiers. Just as Balthus began\nto fear they would run into the savages who seemed to be howling just\nahead of them, Conan swung away from the river in a wide semicircle that\ncarried them to a low rise from which they could look over the forest.\nThey saw the fort, lighted with torches thrust over the parapets on long\npoles. These cast a flickering","It lifted its head, its eyes glowing like balls\nof fire, and growled low in its throat. And at that instant Conan hurled\nthe ax.\n\nAll the weight of arm and shoulder was behind the throw, and the ax was\na streak of silver in the dim moon. Almost before he realized what had\nhappened, Balthus saw the leopard rolling on the ground in its\ndeath-throes, the handle of the ax standing up from its head. The head\nof the weapon had split its narrow skull.\n\nConan bounded from the bushes","a stake painted black as was the one to\nwhich he was bound. A man sagged in his bonds there, naked except for\nhis leathern breeks, whom Balthus recognized as one of Conan's woodsmen.\nBlood trickled from his mouth, oozed sluggishly from a gash in his side.\nLifting his head as he licked his livid lips, he muttered, making\nhimself heard with difficulty above the fiendish clamor of the Picts:\n'So they got you, too!'\n\n'Sneaked up in","ly. He cursed as he heard the shaft splinter\nagainst a tree, but Slasher glided away as silently as a phantom, and\npresently Balthus heard a thrashing and a gurgling; then Slasher came\nlike a ghost through the bushes, snuggling his great, crimson-stained\nhead against Balthus' arm. Blood oozed from a gash in his shoulder, but\nthe sounds in the wood had ceased for ever.\n\nThe men lurking on the edges of the road evidently sensed the fate of","had just crossed a small glade when he wheeled answering the\nconviction of his primitive instincts that he was being followed.\nStanding motionless among the bushes he heard the sounds of the\nretreating settlers fade away. Then a voice called faintly back along\nthe way he had come: 'Conan! Conan! Wait for me, Conan!'\n\n'Balthus!' he swore bewilderedly. Cautiously he called: 'Here I am.'\n\n'Wait for me, Conan!' the voice came more distinctly.\n\nConan moved","settler's wife straying in the woods,' snarled Conan, setting down\nhis end of the litter. 'Looking for a cow, probably, and--stay here!'\n\nHe dived like a hunting wolf into the leafy wall. Balthus' hair\nbristled.\n\n'Stay here alone with this corpse and a devil hiding in the woods?' he\nyelped. 'I'm coming with you!'\n\nAnd suiting action to words, he plunged after the Cimmerian. Conan\nglanced back at him,","and rolled, and men\nclawed and shrieked in frantic flight.\n\nBalthus felt something jerk at his wrists, and then, miraculously, he\nwas free, and a strong hand dragged him behind the post. Dazedly he saw\nConan, felt the forest man's iron grip on his arm.\n\nThere was blood on the Cimmerian's mail, dried blood on the sword in his\nright hand; he loomed dim and gigantic in the shadowy light.\n\n'Come on! Before they get over their panic!'\n\n","ship\nbetween him and the great gaunt brute that glided beside him. Slasher no\nlonger growled with his head to the trail. The way was clear before\nthem. The yelling on the river came faintly to them, but Balthus\nbelieved the fort was still holding. Conan halted suddenly, with an\noath.\n\nHe showed Balthus a trail that led north from the road. It was an old\ntrail, partly grown with new young growth, and this growth had recently\nbeen broken down. Balthus realized this fact","fires that never lit the eyes\nof men bred to the ideas of civilization. In that instant he was all\nwild, and had forgotten the man at his side. In his burning gaze Balthus\nglimpsed and vaguely recognized pristine images and half-embodied\nmemories, shadows from Life's dawn, forgotten and repudiated by\nsophisticated races--ancient, primeval fantasms unnamed and nameless.\n\nThen the deeper fires were masked and Conan was silently leading the way\ndeeper into the forest.\n\n'"],["\nBalthus realized that they did not yet know their prisoner had escaped.\nFrom other sounds he believed that the warriors, directed by the shrill\nvoice of Zogar Sag, were destroying the wounded serpent with arrows. The\nmonster was out of the shaman's control. A moment later the quality of\nthe yells was altered. Screeches of rage rose in the night.\n\nConan laughed grimly. He was leading Balthus along a narrow trail that\nran west under the black branches, stepping as swiftly and surely as if\nhe trod a well","is loosed upon us, the soldiers will desert in a\nbody! The border will be left unguarded and nothing will check the sweep\nof the dark-skinned hordes to the very gates of Velitrium--maybe beyond!\nIf we can not hold the fort, how can they hold the town?\n\n'Conan, Zogar Sag must die, if we are to hold Conajohara. You have\npenetrated the unknown deeper than any other man in the fort; you know\nwhere Gwawela stands, and something of the forest trails across the\nriver","; but\nwith Balthus it was slower, more laborious work.\n\nNo sound came from behind them. They had covered more than a mile when\nBalthus said: 'Does Zogar Sag catch leopard-cubs and train them for\nbloodhounds?'\n\nConan shook his head. 'That was a leopard he called out of the woods.'\n\n'But,' Balthus persisted, 'if he can order the beasts to do his bidding,\nwhy doesn't he rouse them all and have them after us? The","ible that ten men should thus fade into the tangled forest without\na sound.\n\nHe settled himself to wait. No word passed between him and the other man\nwho had been left with him. Somewhere, a mile or so to the northwest,\nZogar Sag's village stood girdled with thick woods. Balthus understood\nhis orders; he and his companion were to wait for the return of the\nraiding-party. If Conan and his men had not returned by the first tinge\nof dawn, they were to race back up the river to the fort and report","the rest of us prisoners when we were so weak\nfrom fighting we could fight no more. They butchered nine of us then and\nthere. It was when Zogar Sag died that I got my chance to break free and\nrun for it.'\n\n'Zogar Sag's dead?' ejaculated Conan.\n\n'Aye. I saw him die. That's why the Picts didn't press the fight against\nVelitrium as fiercely as they did against the fort. It was strange. He\ntook no wounds in battle. He was dancing","decorate Zogar's\naltar.'\n\n'But what thing is it that can cry like a woman and laugh like a devil,\nand shines like witch-fire as it glides through the trees?' gasped\nBalthus, mopping the sweat from his pale face.\n\n'A swamp devil,' responded Conan morosely. 'Grab those poles. We'll take\nin the body, anyway. At least our load's a bit lighter.'\n\nWith which grim philosophy he gripped the leathery loop and stalked down\nthe trail","t sleep. I kept hearing drums talking\nacross the river.'\n\n'They talk each night,' reminded the governor, his fine eyes shadowed,\nas he stared closely at Conan. He had learned the unwisdom of\ndiscounting wild men's instincts.\n\n'There was a difference last night,' growled Conan. 'There has been ever\nsince Zogar Sag got back across the river.'\n\n'We should either have given him presents and sent him home, or else\nhanged him,' sighed the governor. 'You advised that, but----'\n","from one armed man. But how do you know it was not\na Pict with some kind of a hook that rips instead of slicing? Did you\nsee it?'\n\n'Tiberias was an armed man,' grunted Conan. 'If Zogar Sag can bring\ndemons to aid him, he can tell them which men to kill and which to let\nalone. No, I didn't see it. I only saw the bushes shake as it left the\ntrail. But if you want further proof, look here!'\n\nThe slayer had stepped into the pool of",". The soldiers believe Zogar's boast\nthat he could summon the forest beasts to slay his enemies.\n\n'I have three hundred pikemen, four hundred Bossonian archers, and\nperhaps fifty men who, like yourself, are skilled in woodcraft. They are\nworth ten times their number of soldiers, but there are so few of them.\nFrankly, Conan, my situation is becoming precarious. The soldiers\nwhisper of desertion; they are low-spirited, believing Zogar Sag has\nloosed devils on us","I've ever seen.'\n\n'Then others will be on our trail?'\n\n'They are now,' was Conan's disquieting answer. 'Zogar would never leave\nour tracking to one beast alone.'\n\n'What are we to do, then?' asked Balthus uneasily, grasping his ax as he\nstared at the gloomy arches above him. His flesh crawled with the\nmomentary expectation of ripping talons and fangs leaping from the\nshadows.\n\n'Wait!'\n\nConan turned, squatted and with","voice from the flame, 'see, and carry the\nknowledge with you into the Dark Land.'\n\nThe flames leaped and sank, dwindling and dimming. A face began to take\nshadowy form. At first Conan thought it was Zogar Sag himself who stood\nwrapped in green fire. But the face was higher than his own and there\nwas a demoniac aspect about it--Conan had noted various abnormalities\nabout Zogar Sag's features--an obliqueness of the eyes, a sharpness of\nthe ears, a wolfish thin","hes that fringed the\nbank when Conan pulled him back. Then he heard a rhythmic splashing, and\npeering through the leaves, saw a dugout canoe coming up the river, its\nsingle occupant paddling hard against the current. He was a strongly\nbuilt Pict with a white heron feather thrust in a copper band that\nconfined his square-cut mane.\n\n'That's a Gwawela man,' muttered Conan. 'Emissary from Zogar. White\nplume shows that. He's carried a peace talk to the","\nright hand; he loomed dim and gigantic in the shadowy light.\n\n'Come on! Before they get over their panic!'\n\nBalthus felt the haft of an ax shoved into his hand. Zogar Sag had\ndisappeared. Conan dragged Balthus after him until the youth's numb\nbrain awoke, and his legs began to move of their own accord. Then Conan\nreleased him and ran into the building where the skulls hung. Balthus\nfollowed him. He got a glimpse of a grim stone altar","bound for the fort--drugged their drivers, somehow. The\nmules belonged to this man'--Conan casually indicated the corpse with\nhis foot--'Tiberias, a merchant of Velitrium. They were loaded with\nale-kegs, and old Zogar stopped to guzzle before he got across the\nriver. A woodsman named Soractus trailed him, and led Valannus and three\nsoldiers to where he lay dead drunk in a thicket. At the importunities\nof Tiberias, Valannus threw Zogar Sag","forest devil. This is the fifth, by Crom!'\n\n'What do you mean?'\n\n'Did you ever hear of a Pictish wizard called Zogar Sag?'\n\nBalthus shook his head uneasily.\n\n'He dwells in Gwawela, the nearest village across the river. Three\nmonths ago he hid beside this road and stole a string of pack-mules from\na pack-train bound for the fort--drugged their drivers, somehow. The\nmules belonged to this man'--Conan casually indicated the corpse with\n","the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\ntaken. Slasher rumbled deep in his throat, his hackles stiff and his\neyes balls of green fire. Balthus remembered the grim apparition that\nhad taken the head of the merchant Tiberias not far from that spot, and\nhe hesitated. The thing must be following Conan. But the giant Cimmerian\nhad repeatedly demonstrated his ability to take care of himself, and\nBalthus felt his duty lay toward the helpless sett",".\n\nConan shook his head impatiently.\n\n'A man from the Tauran couldn't mistake the mark of a panther's claws.\nNo. It's a forest devil summoned by Zogar Sag to carry out his revenge.\nTiberias was a fool to start for Velitrium alone, and so close to dusk.\nBut each one of the victims seemed to be smitten with madness just\nbefore doom overtook him. Look here; the signs are plain enough.\nTiberias came riding along the trail on his m","the past four or five miles, but he was afraid of the beasts\nthat obeyed Zogar Sag. His faith in the curious symbol wavered a little\nnow. But Conan had dismissed the possibility of beasts tracking them.\n\nA ghostly whiteness spread through the dense branches; the patches of\nsky visible altered in hue, grew from pink to blue. Balthus felt the\ngnawing of hunger, though he had slaked his thirst at a stream they had\nskirted. There was complete silence, except for an occasional chirp of a\n","the army which conquered Conajohara has been\nwithdrawn. You know the force left me is inadequate, especially since\nthat devil Zogar Sag managed to poison our water supply, and forty men\ndied in one day. Many of the others are sick, or have been bitten by\nserpents or mauled by wild beasts which seem to swarm in increasing\nnumbers in the vicinity of the fort. The soldiers believe Zogar's boast\nthat he could summon the forest beasts to slay his enemies.\n\n'I have three","\nA low hill pitched upward, girdled and covered with thick trees and\nbushes. Near the crest Conan slid into a tangle of jutting rocks,\ncrowned by dense bushes. Lying among them they could see the jungle\nbelow without being seen. It was a good place to hide or defend. Balthus\ndid not believe that even a Pict could have trailed them over the rocky\nground for the past four or five miles, but he was afraid of the beasts\nthat obeyed Zogar Sag. His faith in the curious symbol wa"],["\nBalthus realized that they did not yet know their prisoner had escaped.\nFrom other sounds he believed that the warriors, directed by the shrill\nvoice of Zogar Sag, were destroying the wounded serpent with arrows. The\nmonster was out of the shaman's control. A moment later the quality of\nthe yells was altered. Screeches of rage rose in the night.\n\nConan laughed grimly. He was leading Balthus along a narrow trail that\nran west under the black branches, stepping as swiftly and surely as if\nhe trod a well","the rest of us prisoners when we were so weak\nfrom fighting we could fight no more. They butchered nine of us then and\nthere. It was when Zogar Sag died that I got my chance to break free and\nrun for it.'\n\n'Zogar Sag's dead?' ejaculated Conan.\n\n'Aye. I saw him die. That's why the Picts didn't press the fight against\nVelitrium as fiercely as they did against the fort. It was strange. He\ntook no wounds in battle. He was dancing","; but\nwith Balthus it was slower, more laborious work.\n\nNo sound came from behind them. They had covered more than a mile when\nBalthus said: 'Does Zogar Sag catch leopard-cubs and train them for\nbloodhounds?'\n\nConan shook his head. 'That was a leopard he called out of the woods.'\n\n'But,' Balthus persisted, 'if he can order the beasts to do his bidding,\nwhy doesn't he rouse them all and have them after us? The","\nright hand; he loomed dim and gigantic in the shadowy light.\n\n'Come on! Before they get over their panic!'\n\nBalthus felt the haft of an ax shoved into his hand. Zogar Sag had\ndisappeared. Conan dragged Balthus after him until the youth's numb\nbrain awoke, and his legs began to move of their own accord. Then Conan\nreleased him and ran into the building where the skulls hung. Balthus\nfollowed him. He got a glimpse of a grim stone altar","beasts who remember are brothers and speak the same tongue.'\n\nBalthus did not reply; he had strained at a Pictish stake and seen the\nnighted jungle give up its fanged horrors at a shaman's call.\n\n'Civilized men laugh,' said Conan. 'But not one can tell me how Zogar\nSag can call pythons and tigers and leopards out of the wilderness and\nmake them do his bidding. They would say it is a lie, if they dared.\nThat's the way with civil","I've ever seen.'\n\n'Then others will be on our trail?'\n\n'They are now,' was Conan's disquieting answer. 'Zogar would never leave\nour tracking to one beast alone.'\n\n'What are we to do, then?' asked Balthus uneasily, grasping his ax as he\nstared at the gloomy arches above him. His flesh crawled with the\nmomentary expectation of ripping talons and fangs leaping from the\nshadows.\n\n'Wait!'\n\nConan turned, squatted and with","and raced back to the circle. The ring of men split, divided with\ndesperate haste to right and left. Balthus saw the women and naked\nchildren scurrying to the huts. They peeked out of doors and windows. A\nbroad lane was left to the open gate, beyond which loomed the black\nforest, crowding sullenly in upon the clearing, unlighted by the fires.\n\nA tense silence reigned as Zogar Sag turned toward the forest, raised on\nhis tiptoes and sent a weird inhuman call shuddering","Lifting his bow he lined\nthe prancing figure, black against the fire, and loosed. The slayer\nleaped convulsively and fell dead with the arrow through his heart. Then\nthe two white men and the dog were upon the startled survivors. Conan\nwas animated merely by his fighting spirit and an old, old racial hate,\nbut Balthus was afire with wrath.\n\nHe met the first Pict to oppose him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Con","decorate Zogar's\naltar.'\n\n'But what thing is it that can cry like a woman and laugh like a devil,\nand shines like witch-fire as it glides through the trees?' gasped\nBalthus, mopping the sweat from his pale face.\n\n'A swamp devil,' responded Conan morosely. 'Grab those poles. We'll take\nin the body, anyway. At least our load's a bit lighter.'\n\nWith which grim philosophy he gripped the leathery loop and stalked down\nthe trail","and rolled, and men\nclawed and shrieked in frantic flight.\n\nBalthus felt something jerk at his wrists, and then, miraculously, he\nwas free, and a strong hand dragged him behind the post. Dazedly he saw\nConan, felt the forest man's iron grip on his arm.\n\nThere was blood on the Cimmerian's mail, dried blood on the sword in his\nright hand; he loomed dim and gigantic in the shadowy light.\n\n'Come on! Before they get over their panic!'\n\n","ible that ten men should thus fade into the tangled forest without\na sound.\n\nHe settled himself to wait. No word passed between him and the other man\nwho had been left with him. Somewhere, a mile or so to the northwest,\nZogar Sag's village stood girdled with thick woods. Balthus understood\nhis orders; he and his companion were to wait for the return of the\nraiding-party. If Conan and his men had not returned by the first tinge\nof dawn, they were to race back up the river to the fort and report","driving his knees at the youth's groin. Suddenly he attempted to shift\nhis knife to his free hand, and in that instant Balthus, struggling up\non one knee, split the painted head with a desperate blow of his ax.\n\nHe sprang up and glared wildly about for his companion, expecting to see\nhim overwhelmed by numbers. Then he realized the full strength and\nferocity of the Cimmerian. Conan bestrode two of his attackers, shorn\nhalf asunder by that terrible broadsword. As Balthus looked he saw the\nCimmer","forest devil. This is the fifth, by Crom!'\n\n'What do you mean?'\n\n'Did you ever hear of a Pictish wizard called Zogar Sag?'\n\nBalthus shook his head uneasily.\n\n'He dwells in Gwawela, the nearest village across the river. Three\nmonths ago he hid beside this road and stole a string of pack-mules from\na pack-train bound for the fort--drugged their drivers, somehow. The\nmules belonged to this man'--Conan casually indicated the corpse with\n","from one armed man. But how do you know it was not\na Pict with some kind of a hook that rips instead of slicing? Did you\nsee it?'\n\n'Tiberias was an armed man,' grunted Conan. 'If Zogar Sag can bring\ndemons to aid him, he can tell them which men to kill and which to let\nalone. No, I didn't see it. I only saw the bushes shake as it left the\ntrail. But if you want further proof, look here!'\n\nThe slayer had stepped into the pool of",",\nbestial, yet vaguely man-like in outline. Then fresh horror choked\nBalthus as the shape heaved up suddenly with a rattle of chains, lifting\nlong misshapen arms in the gloom.\n\nConan's sword flailed down, crunching through flesh and bone, and then\nthe Cimmerian was dragging Balthus around the altar, past a huddled\nshaggy bulk on the floor, to a door at the back of the long hut. Through\nthis they burst, out into the enclosure again. But","It lifted its head, its eyes glowing like balls\nof fire, and growled low in its throat. And at that instant Conan hurled\nthe ax.\n\nAll the weight of arm and shoulder was behind the throw, and the ax was\na streak of silver in the dim moon. Almost before he realized what had\nhappened, Balthus saw the leopard rolling on the ground in its\ndeath-throes, the handle of the ax standing up from its head. The head\nof the weapon had split its narrow skull.\n\nConan bounded from the bushes","is loosed upon us, the soldiers will desert in a\nbody! The border will be left unguarded and nothing will check the sweep\nof the dark-skinned hordes to the very gates of Velitrium--maybe beyond!\nIf we can not hold the fort, how can they hold the town?\n\n'Conan, Zogar Sag must die, if we are to hold Conajohara. You have\npenetrated the unknown deeper than any other man in the fort; you know\nwhere Gwawela stands, and something of the forest trails across the\nriver","him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Conan had already killed one of the two he had chosen, and\nthe leap of the Aquilonian was a second late. The warrior was down with\nthe long sword through him even as Balthus' ax was lifted. Turning\ntoward the remaining Pict, Balthus saw Slasher rise from his victim, his\ngreat jaws dripping blood.\n\nBalthus said nothing as he looked down at the pitiful forms in","the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\ntaken. Slasher rumbled deep in his throat, his hackles stiff and his\neyes balls of green fire. Balthus remembered the grim apparition that\nhad taken the head of the merchant Tiberias not far from that spot, and\nhe hesitated. The thing must be following Conan. But the giant Cimmerian\nhad repeatedly demonstrated his ability to take care of himself, and\nBalthus felt his duty lay toward the helpless sett","the past four or five miles, but he was afraid of the beasts\nthat obeyed Zogar Sag. His faith in the curious symbol wavered a little\nnow. But Conan had dismissed the possibility of beasts tracking them.\n\nA ghostly whiteness spread through the dense branches; the patches of\nsky visible altered in hue, grew from pink to blue. Balthus felt the\ngnawing of hunger, though he had slaked his thirst at a stream they had\nskirted. There was complete silence, except for an occasional chirp of a\n"],["of him. From the noise they\nwere making in their progress he knew they were not Picts. He hailed\nthem.\n\n'Who's there?' challenged a harsh voice. 'Stand where you are until we\nknow you, or you'll get an arrow through you.'\n\n'You couldn't hit an elephant in this darkness,' answered Conan\nimpatiently. 'Come on, fool; it's I--Conan. The Picts are over the\nriver.'\n\n'We suspected as much,' answered the leader of the men, as they strode\n","ch an arrow.\n\nThe Pict had run his canoe in close to the shore, and staring up into\nthe bushes, called out something. His answer came in the twang of the\nbow-string, the streaking flight of the arrow that sank to the feathers\nin his broad breast. With a choking gasp he slumped sidewise and rolled\ninto the shallow water. In an instant Conan was down the bank and wading\ninto the water to grasp the drifting canoe. Balthus stumbled after him\nand somewhat dazedly crawled into the canoe. Con","Conan. The Picts are over the\nriver.'\n\n'We suspected as much,' answered the leader of the men, as they strode\nforward--tall, rangy men, stern-faced, with bows in their hands. 'One of\nour party wounded an antelope and tracked it nearly to Black River. He\nheard them yelling down the river and ran back to our camp. We left the\nsalt and the wagons, turned the oxen loose and came as swiftly as we\ncould. If the Picts are besieging the fort, war","build his cabin on the bank\nof the river a few miles south of the fort,' grunted Conan. 'The Picts\nslipped over and killed him, of course, and burned his cabin. We found\nhim dead among the embers, and the dog lying senseless among three Picts\nhe'd killed. He was almost cut to pieces. We took him to the fort and\ndressed his wounds, but after he recovered he took to the woods and\nturned wild--What now, Slasher, are you hunting the men who killed your\nmaster?'\n\nThe massive head swung",". They had left a trail any Pict\ncould follow.\n\nConan increased his speed, and Balthus grimly set his teeth and kept on\nhis heels, though he felt he might collapse any time. It seemed\ncenturies since he had eaten last. He kept going more by an effort of\nwill than anything else. His blood was pounding so furiously in his\neardrums that he was not aware when the yells died out behind them.\n\nConan halted suddenly. Balthus leaned against a tree and panted.\n\n'They've quit!' grunted","\n\n'What did you say to the Pict?' asked Balthus.\n\n'Told him to pull into shore; said there was a white forest runner on\nthe bank who was trying to get a shot at him.'\n\n'That doesn't seem fair,' Balthus objected. 'He thought a friend was\nspeaking to him. You mimicked a Pict perfectly--'\n\n'We needed his boat,' grunted Conan, not pausing in his exertions. 'Only\nway to lure him to the bank. Which is worse--to betray a Pict who'","steel as he whirled his sword, and heard a death\nscream. The next instant he had broken through the bushes after the\nCimmerian.\n\nA Pict with a shattered skull lay face-down on the ground, his fingers\nspasmodically clawing at the grass. Half a dozen others were swarming\nabout Conan, swords and axes lifted. They had cast away their bows,\nuseless at such deadly close quarters. Their lower jaws were painted\nwhite, contrasting vividly with their dark faces, and the designs on\ntheir mus","might have crossed the river and be\nlying in ambush between them and the fort. It was fast growing dark.\n\nA slight sound ahead of them jumped his heart into his throat, and\nConan's sword gleamed in the air. He lowered it when a dog, a great,\ngaunt, scarred beast, slunk out of the bushes and stood staring at them.\n\n'That dog belonged to a settler who tried to build his cabin on the bank\nof the river a few miles south of the fort,' grunted Conan. 'The Picts\nslipped over and","gutturals of a Pict. Then he realized that Conan had\ncalled to the paddler in his own tongue. The man started, scanned the\nbushes and called back something, then cast a startled glance across the\nriver, bent low and sent the canoe shooting in toward the western bank.\nNot understanding, Balthus saw Conan take from his hand the bow he had\npicked up in the glade, and notch an arrow.\n\nThe Pict had run his canoe in close to the shore, and staring up into\nthe bushes, called out something.","killed us outright. I can't blame Conan. Ordinarily we'd have gotten to\nthe village without being discovered. They don't keep spies on the river\nbank as far down as we landed. We must have stumbled into a big party\ncoming up the river from the south. Some devilment is up. Too many Picts\nhere. These aren't all Gwaweli; men from the western tribes here and\nfrom up and down the river.'\n\nBalthus stared at the ferocious shapes. Little as he knew of Pictish\nways, he","Lifting his bow he lined\nthe prancing figure, black against the fire, and loosed. The slayer\nleaped convulsively and fell dead with the arrow through his heart. Then\nthe two white men and the dog were upon the startled survivors. Conan\nwas animated merely by his fighting spirit and an old, old racial hate,\nbut Balthus was afire with wrath.\n\nHe met the first Pict to oppose him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Con","a damned Pictish swamp devil? A friend called me.'\n\n'I called in his voice,' answered the other. 'The men you follow belong\nto my brother; I would not rob his knife of their blood. But you are\nmine. Oh, fool, you have come from the far gray hills of Cimmeria to\nmeet your doom in the forests of Conajohara.'\n\n'You've had your chance at me before now,' snorted Conan. 'Why didn't\nyou kill me then, if you could?'\n\n'My brother had not painted a","You went with the soldiers to the ruins of the fort?'\n\nConan nodded.\n\n'I wasn't able,' murmured the other. 'There was no fighting?'\n\n'The Picts had fallen back across the Black River. Something must have\nbroken their nerve, though only the devil who made them knows what.'\n\nThe woodsman glanced at his bandaged arm and sighed.\n\n'They say there were no bodies worth disposing of.'\n\nConan shook his head. 'Ashes. The Picts had piled them in the fort and\nset fire to the fort","ing of.'\n\nConan shook his head. 'Ashes. The Picts had piled them in the fort and\nset fire to the fort before they crossed the river. Their own dead and\nthe men of Valannus.'\n\n'Valannus was killed among the last--in the hand-to-hand fighting when\nthey broke the barriers. They tried to take him alive, but he made them\nkill him. They took ten of the rest of us prisoners when we were so weak\nfrom fighting we could fight no more. They butchered nine of us then and\nthere. It","deeper into the ancient\nwilderness. Presently he grunted with satisfaction. They had reached a\nspot where the underbrush was more scattered, and an outcropping of\nstone was visible, wandering off southward. Balthus felt more secure as\nthey followed it. Not even a Pict could trail them over naked rock.\n\n'How did you get away?' he asked presently.\n\nConan tapped his mail-shirt and helmet.\n\n'If more borderers would wear harness there'd be fewer skulls hanging on\nthe altar-huts. But","of dead Picts--I counted seven, brained by his ax, or disemboweled\nby the dog's fangs, and there were others in the road with arrows\nsticking in them. Gods, what a fight that must have been!'\n\n'He was a man,' said Conan. 'I drink to his shade, and to the shade of\nthe dog, who knew no fear.' He quaffed part of the wine, then emptied\nthe rest upon the floor, with a curious heathen gesture, and smashed the\ngoblet. 'The heads of","it.'\n\nThey swung out in a wide arc, hearing the rising and falling of the\nvolume of the yells, marking each charge and repulse. The men in the\nfort were holding their own; but the shrieks of the Picts did not\ndiminish in savagery. They vibrated with a timbre that held assurance of\nultimate victory.\n\nBefore Balthus realized they were close to it, they broke into the road\nleading east.\n\n'Now run!' grunted Conan. Balthus set his teeth. It was nineteen miles\n","a stake painted black as was the one to\nwhich he was bound. A man sagged in his bonds there, naked except for\nhis leathern breeks, whom Balthus recognized as one of Conan's woodsmen.\nBlood trickled from his mouth, oozed sluggishly from a gash in his side.\nLifting his head as he licked his livid lips, he muttered, making\nhimself heard with difficulty above the fiendish clamor of the Picts:\n'So they got you, too!'\n\n'Sneaked up in",". The\nwoods seemed empty of life. Conan believed that all the Picts were\ngathered in the vicinity of Gwawela, if indeed, they had not already\ncrossed the river. He did not believe they would cross in the daytime,\nhowever.\n\n'Some woodsman would be sure to see them and give the alarm. They'll\ncross above and below the fort, out of sight of the sentries. Then\nothers will get in canoes and make straight across for the river wall.\nAs soon as they attack, those hidden in the woods on the","the wagons, turned the oxen loose and came as swiftly as we\ncould. If the Picts are besieging the fort, war-parties will be ranging\nup the road toward our cabins.'\n\n'Your families are safe,' grunted Conan. 'My companion went ahead to\ntake them to Velitrium. If we go back to the main road we may run into\nthe whole horde. We'll strike southeast, through the timber. Go ahead.\nI'll scout behind.'\n\nA few moments later the whole band was hurrying sout"],["ly. He cursed as he heard the shaft splinter\nagainst a tree, but Slasher glided away as silently as a phantom, and\npresently Balthus heard a thrashing and a gurgling; then Slasher came\nlike a ghost through the bushes, snuggling his great, crimson-stained\nhead against Balthus' arm. Blood oozed from a gash in his shoulder, but\nthe sounds in the wood had ceased for ever.\n\nThe men lurking on the edges of the road evidently sensed the fate of",", he loosed and one of the figures crumpled.\nThe rest melted into the woods on either side of the road. Slasher\nwhimpered with the killing lust beside him. Suddenly a figure appeared\non the fringe of the trail, under the trees, and began gliding toward\nthe fallen timbers. Balthus' bow-string twanged and the Pict yelped,\nstaggered and fell into the shadows with the arrow through his thigh.\nSlasher cleared the timbers with a bound and leaped into the bushes.\nThey were violently shaken","the arrow through his thigh.\nSlasher cleared the timbers with a bound and leaped into the bushes.\nThey were violently shaken and then the dog slunk back to Balthus' side,\nhis jaws crimson.\n\nNo more appeared in the trail; Balthus began to fear they were stealing\npast his position through the woods, and when he heard a faint sound to\nhis left he loosed blindly. He cursed as he heard the shaft splinter\nagainst a tree, but Slasher glided away as silently as a phantom","rolled down the logs from the force of his wasted blow. Before he\ncould regain his feet Slasher tore his throat out.\n\nThen followed a tense period of waiting, in which time Balthus wondered\nif the man who had fled had been the only survivor of the party.\nObviously it had been a small band that had either left the fighting at\nthe fort, or was scouting ahead of the main body. Each moment that\npassed increased the chances for safety of the women and children\nhurrying toward Velitrium.\n\nThen without warning a shower of arrows","the woods and\nturned wild--What now, Slasher, are you hunting the men who killed your\nmaster?'\n\nThe massive head swung from side to side and the eyes glowed greenly. He\ndid not growl or bark. Silently as a phantom he slid in behind them.\n\n'Let him come,' muttered Conan. 'He can smell the devils before we can\nsee them.'\n\nBalthus smiled and laid his hand caressingly on the dog's head. The\nlips involuntarily writhed back to display the gleaming fangs","build his cabin on the bank\nof the river a few miles south of the fort,' grunted Conan. 'The Picts\nslipped over and killed him, of course, and burned his cabin. We found\nhim dead among the embers, and the dog lying senseless among three Picts\nhe'd killed. He was almost cut to pieces. We took him to the fort and\ndressed his wounds, but after he recovered he took to the woods and\nturned wild--What now, Slasher, are you hunting the men who killed your\nmaster?'\n\nThe massive head swung","of the trail.\nThree dropped with arrows through them--and the remaining pair\nhesitated. One turned and ran back down the road, but the other lunged\nover the breastwork, his eyes and teeth gleaming in the dim light, his\nax lifted. Balthus' foot slipped as he sprang up, but the slip saved his\nlife. The descending ax shaved a lock of hair from his head, and the\nPict rolled down the logs from the force of his wasted blow. Before he\ncould regain his feet Slasher tore his throat out.\n\nThen","s garrison?' he asked.\n\n'I'm no soldier. I draw the pay and rations of an officer of the line,\nbut I do my work in the woods. Valannus knows I'm of more use ranging\nalong the river than cooped up in the fort.'\n\nCasually the slayer shoved the body deeper into the thickets with his\nfoot, pulled the bushes together and turned away down the trail. The\nother followed him.\n\n'My name is Balthus,' he offered. 'I was at Velitrium last night.","the way he had come, and was startled to see a\nvague ghostly glow vanishing into the forest in the direction Conan had\ntaken. Slasher rumbled deep in his throat, his hackles stiff and his\neyes balls of green fire. Balthus remembered the grim apparition that\nhad taken the head of the merchant Tiberias not far from that spot, and\nhe hesitated. The thing must be following Conan. But the giant Cimmerian\nhad repeatedly demonstrated his ability to take care of himself, and\nBalthus felt his duty lay toward the helpless sett","from one armed man. But how do you know it was not\na Pict with some kind of a hook that rips instead of slicing? Did you\nsee it?'\n\n'Tiberias was an armed man,' grunted Conan. 'If Zogar Sag can bring\ndemons to aid him, he can tell them which men to kill and which to let\nalone. No, I didn't see it. I only saw the bushes shake as it left the\ntrail. But if you want further proof, look here!'\n\nThe slayer had stepped into the pool of","him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Conan had already killed one of the two he had chosen, and\nthe leap of the Aquilonian was a second late. The warrior was down with\nthe long sword through him even as Balthus' ax was lifted. Turning\ntoward the remaining Pict, Balthus saw Slasher rise from his victim, his\ngreat jaws dripping blood.\n\nBalthus said nothing as he looked down at the pitiful forms in","ously over one another in his\nfather's kennel yard. He sighed. The frontier was no less hard for\nbeasts than for men. This dog had almost forgotten the meaning of\nkindness and friendliness.\n\nSlasher glided ahead, and Conan let him take the lead. The last tinge of\ndusk faded into stark darkness. The miles fell away under their steady\nfeet. Slasher seemed voiceless. Suddenly he halted, tense, ears lifted.\nAn instant later the men heard it--a demoniac yelling up the river ahead\n","either side of the trail.\n\nBalthus muttered a horrified oath. It was the body of a man which lay\nthere in the trail, a short, fat man, clad in the gilt-worked boots and\n(despite the heat) the ermine-trimmed tunic of a wealthy merchant. His\nfat, pale face was set in a stare of frozen horror; his thick throat had\nbeen slashed from ear to ear as if by a razor-sharp blade. The short\nsword still in its scabbard seemed to indicate that he had","us\nreached out and grasped his shoulder. To his amazement, the man crumpled\nunder his touch and slumped down in the canoe. Twisting his body half\nabout, Balthus groped for him, his heart shooting into his throat. His\nfumbling fingers slid over the man's throat--only the youth's convulsive\nclenching of his jaws choked back the cry that rose to his lips. His\nfingers encountered a gaping, oozing wound--his companion's throat had\nbeen cut from ear to ear.","lips. His\nfingers encountered a gaping, oozing wound--his companion's throat had\nbeen cut from ear to ear.\n\nIn that instant of horror and panic Balthus started up--and then a\nmuscular arm out of the darkness locked fiercely about his throat,\nstrangling his yell. The canoe rocked wildly. Balthus' knife was in his\nhand, though he did not remember jerking it out of his boot, and he\nstabbed fiercely and blindly. He felt the blade sink deep, and a","the trail. The\nother followed him.\n\n'My name is Balthus,' he offered. 'I was at Velitrium last night. I\nhaven't decided whether I'll take up a hide of land, or enter\nfort-service.'\n\n'The best land near Thunder River is already taken,' grunted the slayer.\n'Plenty of good land between Scalp Creek--you crossed it a few miles\nback--and the fort, but that's getting too devilish close to the river.\nThe Picts steal over to burn and murder--as that","were traveling slowly, on foot and on the overloaded horses. The\nswift-footed Picts would run them down within a mile, unless--he took\nhis position behind a tangle of fallen logs beside the trail. The road\nwest of him was lighted by the burning cabin, and when the Picts came he\nsaw them first--black furtive figures etched against the distant glare.\n\nDrawing a shaft to the head, he loosed and one of the figures crumpled.\nThe rest melted into the woods on either side of the road. Slasher\n","been hideously slashed with many knives--a mist clouded\nBalthus' eyes and he swallowed chokingly. The tragedy momentarily\novercame him. He felt like falling upon the ground and weeping and\nbiting the earth.\n\n'Some young couple just hitting out on their own,' Conan was saying as\nhe wiped his sword unemotionally. 'On their way to the fort when the\nPicts met them. Maybe the boy was going to enter the service; maybe take\nup land on the river. Well, that's what will happen to every man, woman","tinged the glare he fixed on Zogar Sag.\n\nThe monster moved past the heap of bodies and the pile of gory heads\nwithout appearing to notice them. He was no scavenger. He hunted only\nthe living, in a life dedicated solely to slaughter. An awful hunger\nburned greenly in the wide, unwinking eyes; the hunger not alone of\nbelly-emptiness, but the lust of death-dealing. His gaping jaws\nslavered. The shaman stepped back; his hand waved toward the woodsman.\n\nThe great cat","ship\nbetween him and the great gaunt brute that glided beside him. Slasher no\nlonger growled with his head to the trail. The way was clear before\nthem. The yelling on the river came faintly to them, but Balthus\nbelieved the fort was still holding. Conan halted suddenly, with an\noath.\n\nHe showed Balthus a trail that led north from the road. It was an old\ntrail, partly grown with new young growth, and this growth had recently\nbeen broken down. Balthus realized this fact"],["of the trail.\nThree dropped with arrows through them--and the remaining pair\nhesitated. One turned and ran back down the road, but the other lunged\nover the breastwork, his eyes and teeth gleaming in the dim light, his\nax lifted. Balthus' foot slipped as he sprang up, but the slip saved his\nlife. The descending ax shaved a lock of hair from his head, and the\nPict rolled down the logs from the force of his wasted blow. Before he\ncould regain his feet Slasher tore his throat out.\n\nThen","into\nthe town. You brought the settlers through all right, but their women\nand children got into Velitrium just ahead of those painted devils. If\nthe youth Balthus and old Slasher hadn't held them up awhile, they'd\nhave butchered every woman and child in Conajohara. I passed the place\nwhere Balthus and the dog made their last stand. They were lying amid a\nheap of dead Picts--I counted seven, brained by his ax, or disemboweled\nby the dog's fangs, and there were",", he loosed and one of the figures crumpled.\nThe rest melted into the woods on either side of the road. Slasher\nwhimpered with the killing lust beside him. Suddenly a figure appeared\non the fringe of the trail, under the trees, and began gliding toward\nthe fallen timbers. Balthus' bow-string twanged and the Pict yelped,\nstaggered and fell into the shadows with the arrow through his thigh.\nSlasher cleared the timbers with a bound and leaped into the bushes.\nThey were violently shaken","Lifting his bow he lined\nthe prancing figure, black against the fire, and loosed. The slayer\nleaped convulsively and fell dead with the arrow through his heart. Then\nthe two white men and the dog were upon the startled survivors. Conan\nwas animated merely by his fighting spirit and an old, old racial hate,\nbut Balthus was afire with wrath.\n\nHe met the first Pict to oppose him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Con","with meager household furnishings; it was burning; the oxen lay\nnear with their throats cut. A man and a woman lay in the road, stripped\nand mutilated. Five Picts were dancing about them with fantastic leaps\nand bounds, waving bloody axes; one of them brandished the woman's\nred-smeared gown.\n\nAt the sight a red haze swam before Balthus. Lifting his bow he lined\nthe prancing figure, black against the fire, and loosed. The slayer\nleaped convulsively and fell","they were anxious to make the fort tonight. Did--did--'.\n\n'They met the Picts,' answered Balthus briefly, and the woman sobbed in\nhorror.\n\nThey were scarcely out of sight of the cabin when some distance behind\nthem quavered a long high-pitched yell.\n\n'A wolf!' exclaimed one of the women.\n\n'A painted wolf with an ax in his hand,' muttered Balthus. 'Go! Rouse\nthe other settlers along the road and take them with you. I'll scout\nal","rolled down the logs from the force of his wasted blow. Before he\ncould regain his feet Slasher tore his throat out.\n\nThen followed a tense period of waiting, in which time Balthus wondered\nif the man who had fled had been the only survivor of the party.\nObviously it had been a small band that had either left the fighting at\nthe fort, or was scouting ahead of the main body. Each moment that\npassed increased the chances for safety of the women and children\nhurrying toward Velitrium.\n\nThen without warning a shower of arrows","been hideously slashed with many knives--a mist clouded\nBalthus' eyes and he swallowed chokingly. The tragedy momentarily\novercame him. He felt like falling upon the ground and weeping and\nbiting the earth.\n\n'Some young couple just hitting out on their own,' Conan was saying as\nhe wiped his sword unemotionally. 'On their way to the fort when the\nPicts met them. Maybe the boy was going to enter the service; maybe take\nup land on the river. Well, that's what will happen to every man, woman","him with a ferocious swipe that split\nthe painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the\nothers. But Conan had already killed one of the two he had chosen, and\nthe leap of the Aquilonian was a second late. The warrior was down with\nthe long sword through him even as Balthus' ax was lifted. Turning\ntoward the remaining Pict, Balthus saw Slasher rise from his victim, his\ngreat jaws dripping blood.\n\nBalthus said nothing as he looked down at the pitiful forms in","within miles of Gwawela. All the Picts are gathered in that vicinity.\nWe'll circle wide around them. They can't track us until daylight.\nThey'll pick up our path then, but before dawn we'll leave the trail and\ntake to the woods.'\n\nThey plunged on. The yells died out behind them. Balthus' breath was\nwhistling through his teeth. He felt a pain in his side, and running\nbecame torture. He blundered against the bushes on each side of the\ntrail. Con","\nA week before, Balthus would have laughed at any such preposterous\nsuggestion. Now he made no reply. He had seen the unconquerable ferocity\nof the men who dwelt beyond the frontiers.\n\nHe shivered, casting glances at the sullen river, just visible through\nthe bushes, at the arches of the trees which crowded close to its banks.\nHe kept remembering that the Picts might have crossed the river and be\nlying in ambush between them and the fort. It was fast growing dark.\n\nA slight sound ahead of them","were traveling slowly, on foot and on the overloaded horses. The\nswift-footed Picts would run them down within a mile, unless--he took\nhis position behind a tangle of fallen logs beside the trail. The road\nwest of him was lighted by the burning cabin, and when the Picts came he\nsaw them first--black furtive figures etched against the distant glare.\n\nDrawing a shaft to the head, he loosed and one of the figures crumpled.\nThe rest melted into the woods on either side of the road. Slasher\n","at such deadly close quarters. Their lower jaws were painted\nwhite, contrasting vividly with their dark faces, and the designs on\ntheir muscular breasts differed from any Balthus had ever seen.\n\nOne of them hurled his ax at Balthus and rushed after it with lifted\nknife. Balthus ducked and then caught the wrist that drove the knife\nlicking at his throat. They went to the ground together, rolling over\nand over. The Pict was like a wild beast, his muscles hard as steel\nstrings.\n\nBalthus was striving to maintain","\nLooking back as they entered the thick growth, Balthus beheld the wall\ndotted with black heads as the savages peered over. The Picts were\nbewildered. They had not gained the wall in time to see the fugitives\ntake cover. They had rushed to the wall expecting to repel an attack in\nforce. They had seen the body of the dead warrior. But no enemy was in\nsight.\n\nBalthus realized that they did not yet know their prisoner had escaped.\nFrom other sounds he believed that the warriors, directed by the shrill\n","it.'\n\nThey swung out in a wide arc, hearing the rising and falling of the\nvolume of the yells, marking each charge and repulse. The men in the\nfort were holding their own; but the shrieks of the Picts did not\ndiminish in savagery. They vibrated with a timbre that held assurance of\nultimate victory.\n\nBefore Balthus realized they were close to it, they broke into the road\nleading east.\n\n'Now run!' grunted Conan. Balthus set his teeth. It was nineteen miles\n","build his cabin on the bank\nof the river a few miles south of the fort,' grunted Conan. 'The Picts\nslipped over and killed him, of course, and burned his cabin. We found\nhim dead among the embers, and the dog lying senseless among three Picts\nhe'd killed. He was almost cut to pieces. We took him to the fort and\ndressed his wounds, but after he recovered he took to the woods and\nturned wild--What now, Slasher, are you hunting the men who killed your\nmaster?'\n\nThe massive head swung","the trail. The\nother followed him.\n\n'My name is Balthus,' he offered. 'I was at Velitrium last night. I\nhaven't decided whether I'll take up a hide of land, or enter\nfort-service.'\n\n'The best land near Thunder River is already taken,' grunted the slayer.\n'Plenty of good land between Scalp Creek--you crossed it a few miles\nback--and the fort, but that's getting too devilish close to the river.\nThe Picts steal over to burn and murder--as that","us urged that she herself mount\nwith them, but she shook her head and made one of the younger women\nride.\n\n'She's with child,' grunted the old woman. 'I can walk--and fight, too,\nif it comes to that.'\n\nAs they set out, one of the women said: 'A young couple passed along the\nroad about dusk; we advised them to spend the night at our cabin, but\nthey were anxious to make the fort tonight. Did--did--'.\n\n'They met the Picts,' answered Balthus briefly, and the woman","rise from his victim, his\ngreat jaws dripping blood.\n\nBalthus said nothing as he looked down at the pitiful forms in the road\nbeside the burning wain. Both were young, the woman little more than a\ngirl. By some whim of chance the Picts had left her face unmarred, and\neven in the agonies of an awful death it was beautiful. But her soft\nyoung body had been hideously slashed with many knives--a mist clouded\nBalthus' eyes and he swallowed chokingly. The tragedy momentarily\n",". They had left a trail any Pict\ncould follow.\n\nConan increased his speed, and Balthus grimly set his teeth and kept on\nhis heels, though he felt he might collapse any time. It seemed\ncenturies since he had eaten last. He kept going more by an effort of\nwill than anything else. His blood was pounding so furiously in his\neardrums that he was not aware when the yells died out behind them.\n\nConan halted suddenly. Balthus leaned against a tree and panted.\n\n'They've quit!' grunted"],["\n'Have you got a horse?'\n\n'In the stable,' she groaned. 'Oh, hurry!'\n\nHe pushed her aside as she fumbled with shaking hands at the bars. He\nled the horse out and lifted the children on its back, telling them to\nhold to its mane and to one another. They stared at him seriously,\nmaking no outcry. The woman took the horse's halter and set out up the\nroad. She still gripped her ax and Balthus knew that if cornered she\nwould fight with the desperate courage of a she-pan","ly. He cursed as he heard the shaft splinter\nagainst a tree, but Slasher glided away as silently as a phantom, and\npresently Balthus heard a thrashing and a gurgling; then Slasher came\nlike a ghost through the bushes, snuggling his great, crimson-stained\nhead against Balthus' arm. Blood oozed from a gash in his shoulder, but\nthe sounds in the wood had ceased for ever.\n\nThe men lurking on the edges of the road evidently sensed the fate of","but\nthe sounds in the wood had ceased for ever.\n\nThe men lurking on the edges of the road evidently sensed the fate of\ntheir companion, and decided that an open charge was preferable to being\ndragged down in the dark by a devil-beast they could neither see nor\nhear. Perhaps they realized that only one man lay behind the logs. They\ncame with a sudden rush, breaking cover from both sides of the trail.\nThree dropped with arrows through them--and the remaining pair\nhesitated. One turned and ran back down the road, but the","'ve gone ahead to butcher the settlers in their beds! Come\non!'\n\nAhead of them presently they saw a small blaze through the trees, and\nheard a wild and ferocious chanting. The trail bent there, and leaving\nit, they cut across the bend, through the thickets. A few moments later\nthey were looking on a hideous sight. An ox-wain stood in the road\npiled with meager household furnishings; it was burning; the oxen lay\nnear with their throats cut. A man and a woman lay in","the end of the poles, and was carrying his\nshare of the load with one hand, while the other gripped his naked\nbroadsword, and his restless gaze roved the sinister walls about them.\nThe shadows were thickening. A darkening blue mist blurred the outlines\nof the foliage. The forest deepened in the twilight, became a blue haunt\nof mystery sheltering unguessed things.\n\nThey had covered more than a mile, and the muscles in Balthus' sturdy\narms were beginning to ache a little, when a","had gone to the\nsalt licks the day before, unsuspecting of any danger. One of the young\nwomen seemed dazed, the other prone to hysteria. But the old woman, a\nstern old veteran of the frontier, quieted them harshly; she helped\nBalthus get out the two horses that were stabled in a pen behind the\ncabin and put the children on them. Balthus urged that she herself mount\nwith them, but she shook her head and made one of the younger women\nride.\n\n'She's with","been everything except a king, and I may be that,\nbefore I die.' The fancy pleased him, and he grinned hardly. Then he\nshrugged his shoulders and stretched his mighty figure on the rocks.\n'This is as good life as any. I don't know how long I'll stay on the\nfrontier; a week, a month, a year. I have a roving foot. But it's as\nwell on the border as anywhere.'\n\nBalthus set himself to watch the forest below them. Momentarily he\nexpected to see fierce painted faces thrust through","had been silent for hours. He kept\nblinking, unconsciously trying to see through the deep gloom. The dank\nnight-smells of the river and the damp forest oppressed him. Somewhere,\nnear by, there was a sound as if a big fish had flopped and splashed the\nwater. Balthus thought it must have leaped so close to the canoe that it\nhad struck the side, for a slight quiver vibrated the craft. The boat's\nstern began to swing, slightly away from the shore. The man behind him\nmust have let","\nThey had covered more than a mile, and the muscles in Balthus' sturdy\narms were beginning to ache a little, when a cry rang shuddering from\nthe woods whose blue shadows were deepening into purple.\n\nConan started convulsively, and Balthus almost let go the poles.\n\n'A woman!' cried the younger man. 'Great Mitra, a woman cried out then!'\n\n'A settler's wife straying in the woods,' snarled Conan, setting down\nhis end of the litter. 'Looking for a","curving back slightly for the stroke. Balthus gazed\nwith glazed, hypnotized stare into that loathesome gullet down which he\nwould soon be engulfed, and he was aware of no sensation except a vague\nnausea.\n\nAnd then something that glinted in the firelight streaked from the\nshadows of the huts, and the great reptile whipped about and went into\ninstant convulsions. As in a dream Balthus saw a short throwing-spear\ntransfixing the mighty neck, just below the gap","ness just\nbefore doom overtook him. Look here; the signs are plain enough.\nTiberias came riding along the trail on his mule, maybe with a bundle of\nchoice otter pelts behind his saddle to sell in Velitrium, and the\n_thing_ sprang on him from behind that bush. See where the branches are\ncrushed down.\n\n'Tiberias gave one scream, and then his throat was torn open and he was\nselling his otter skins in Hell. The mule ran away into the woods.\nListen! Even now you can hear him","that they too were watched, fiercely, hungrily, with the mercilessness\nof ancient hate. The forest beyond the river might seem desolate and\nvacant of life to the ignorant eye, but life teemed there, not alone of\nbird and beast and reptile, but also of men, the fiercest of all the\nhunting beasts.\n\nThere, at the fort, civilization ended. Fort Tuscelan was the last\noutpost of a civilized world; it represented the westernmost thrust of\nthe dominant Hyborian races. Beyond the river","won't take to the woods until\nwe have to. We can make better time on this trail. Now buckle down to it\nand run as you never ran before.'\n\n'They got over their panic cursed quick!' panted Balthus, complying with\na fresh burst of speed.\n\n'They're not afraid of anything, very long,' grunted Conan.\n\nFor a space nothing was said between them. The fugitives devoted all\ntheir attention to covering distance. They were plunging deeper and\ndeeper into the wilderness and getting farther away","released him and ran into the building where the skulls hung. Balthus\nfollowed him. He got a glimpse of a grim stone altar, faintly lighted by\nthe glow outside; five human heads grinned on that altar, and there was\na grisly familiarity about the features of the freshest; it was the head\nof the merchant Tiberias. Behind the altar was an idol, dim, indistinct,\nbestial, yet vaguely man-like in outline. Then fresh horror choked\nBalthus as the shape heaved up suddenly with","youth stared about him\neagerly and curiously, noting the rows of barracks along the walls, the\nstables, the tiny merchants' stalls, the towering blockhouse, and the\nother buildings, with the open square in the middle where the soldiers\ndrilled, and where, now, fires danced and men off duty lounged. These\nwere now hurrying to join the morbid crowd gathered about the litter at\nthe gate. The rangy figures of Aquilonian pikemen and forest runners\nmingled with the shorter, stockier forms of Bossonian arch","through the trees beside the trail. He shot three arrows and\nthrew the bow away. As if sensing his plight, they came on, not yelling\nnow, but in deadly silence except for a swift pad of many feet.\n\nHe fiercely hugged the head of the great dog growling at his side,\nmuttered: 'All right, boy, give 'em hell!' and sprang to his feet,\ndrawing his ax. Then the dark figures flooded over the breastworks and\nclosed in a storm of flailing axes, stabbing knives and ripping","